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pellucid-constellations · 5 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, angst babyyy <3

a/n: I'm going insane and crazy and every iteration of that. I love writing this fic so much I want it tattooed on my forehead. Thanks, love you all <3

Main Masterlist ♡

You were in and out of sleep for the next few days—much to your displeasure.

After attempting to down all the herbal remedies Azriel’s healer had left and continuing to care for your daughter without missing a beat, Azriel had made it clear that that would not fly. You told him several times to go home and not burden himself with caring for the two of you, but he was entirely too stubborn to listen to you.

You even watched as his shadows left and returned with messages for him, sure that his High Lord was calling him home.

But Azriel still stayed.

He made food, he served the food, and he fed Melanie, coaxing her delirious eyes open to make sure she took medicine at the right times. You weren’t completely incapacitated, but it didn’t matter; Azriel wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger.

He answered the door to the apothecary several times, sending away customers after collecting payments and restocking shelves, somehow privy to the knowledge of the store. You weren’t entirely confident that he wasn’t overcharging everyone or putting things in random places.

A few times, when sleep fought for the space in your mind, you felt fingers in your hair, along your face, across your shoulders. Each brush would send you deeper into the void you avoided so adamantly, and you were ignoring the fact that you had never felt safe enough to fall asleep in front of other people until now.

You caught Azriel holding Melanie on a few occasions.

You would crack an eye open after an unexpected bout of sleep and he’d be rocking her in his arms, bouncing her to sleep as she lay her flushed face on his shoulder.

Azriel had never told you if he had experience with children. Sure, he mentioned his closeness with Nyx and how much he loved his nephew, but that was… different from this. The ease with which he held Melanie, the instinct he seemed to have towards her—it felt different. Looked different.

You felt an unexplainable sense of safety as you watched them.

Melanie would pull back from his shoulder and arrange her fingers on the planes of Azriel’s cheeks and he would smile at her. And you felt safe.

You found more energy on the third day of the fever.

You got out of bed and took some semblance of a bath, fumbling around in the bathroom without much coordination. Your head was still fuzzy and an ache still permeated deep within your muscles, but the feeling was lessened.

It wasn’t until after your bath that you realized you hadn’t checked on Melanie the moment you woke up.

You hadn’t shot out of bed and raced to her room as you had done almost every morning since she was born.

You hadn’t feared that she was somehow taken from your home, from your arms—that she was in danger of being ripped from your grasp and sent back to Autumn to live out the same cruel fate you were destined for.

A small voice in the back of your mind offered a gentle whisper, reminding you that it was because of Azriel that you found that brief moment of peace.

You pushed it back.

With a shiver, you made your way down the narrow hallway to your daughter’s bedroom.

Empty.

You felt your heart rate tick up in a small bout of panic, but you were calmed by a fluttering in your chest just as quickly. The light pressure led you into the kitchen and then flushed into a warm bloom as the scene in front of you unfolded.

Melanie was bundled up in a blanket and sat atop the kitchen counter as Azriel whisked the contents of a bowl. She was talking her head off about something that happened at school and Azriel was nodding his head with each exasperated huff she let out. Another glance told you that Melanie had eaten an entire plate of food before you’d entered, a feat in itself as your daughter hardly ate to begin with—let alone when she was sick.

“Mommy!” Melanie cheered, wrapping her arms around your neck as you entered the quaint kitchen. “I thought you were gonna sleep forever. I wanted to wake you up but Mr. Azriel said you had to sleep to get better so he made me lunch.”

“Lunch, huh?” you smiled, gathering her into your arms and sliding her off the counter.

“Uh-huh. You slept through breakfast and lunch. Aren’t you hungry, mommy?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Well, you should have Mr. Azriel’s pancakes.” Melanie yawned. Her blinks became longer. “They’re so good, mommy. He should live with us and make them all the time.”

From the stove, you heard Azriel breathe out a laugh. You glanced at him through your lashes as you held Melanie in your arms, the broad expanse of his wings barely contained in the kitchen. The shirt he wore strained against his arms as he shifted a pan on the burner and he didn’t look back as the two of you spoke.

“I think I need a nap,” Melanie proclaimed, rubbing at her heavy eyes. “I thought I was a big girl at school now and didn’t need to take naps. You told me that, mommy.”

You tore your gaze from Azriel’s back and offered your daughter a soft smile. “Well, you need rest to get better, too. So it’s okay for you to take naps right now.”

“I don’t like having hot blood. This is so annoying.”

You jutted your head back at her statement and made to have her explain, but Melanie shimmied from your arms and scampered off to her room before you could make a sound, her blanket dragging behind her.

That left you alone with Azriel.

“Hot blood?” you asked, leaning against the counter and attempting to appear casual in your own home. It was still surreal that he was up here—making pancakes in your kitchen—when just a few days ago, you never would have let him get past the stairs.

Azriel hummed and flicked the burner off, leaning his back on a nearby counter to face you. “I think she heard what Madja said when she was explaining what was wrong with you both. Mel’s been calling it hot blood. I didn’t—I didn’t think it was my place to correct her.”

You pressed your lips into a line and rubbed your forearm in some attempt of comfort. “Right.” A long pause. Azriel didn’t press you to speak. You did anyway to fill the dead air. “You really didn’t have to stay for as long as you did. I know this place isn’t what you’re used to and it must have been a handful with Mel—”

“I wanted to stay,” Azriel interrupted. He stepped forward and placed a hand on your forehead, ignoring the tension you felt weighing on your shoulders. “You’re still warm.”

“I feel a lot better. Almost completely fine. It would be okay… if you had somewhere to go. If you had to leave, I mean.”

The hand on your forehead slid down to your chin and tilted your face up. Azriel’s gaze flickered between your eyes—back and forth with a furrowed brow as if trying to parse out a deeper meaning behind your words or solve a puzzle you hadn’t presented. His hand was hot against your chin in a way it wasn’t against your forehead.

“You should eat,” he settled on. He brushed your still-damp hair back from your face before turning on his heel. “Mel was right. I make great pancakes and you haven’t eaten in a while. Lucky for you she didn’t finish all of them. She was close, but there are a few left.”

You let him fuss, watched him as he rooted around the cupboards to pull out a plate and a glass, and tried to figure this out now that you were more coherent.

Azriel had stayed—for almost three days he had stayed at your apartment and cared for you and your daughter as if it was expected. Each time you had woken up he had been there, coaxing water and bone-dry broth into your mouth before helping you see Melanie and then helping you to fall back to sleep. He had held your daughter and made her pancakes and he was still here.

Could this somehow be nefarious? Some ploy to get close to you just to use you as a bargaining chip and send you back home? Had the High Lord demanded that his Spymaster keep a close eye on you and this was the outcome?

No.

No, that couldn’t be the reason Azriel was setting a plate down on the counter beside you. That couldn’t be why he caught your eye with a worried gaze and seemed to pinpoint your inner turmoil almost instantly.

But why?

His visits over the past few weeks had been welcomed—confusing at first, but a welcomed break from the mundane, anxiety-fueled life you lived. You had grown comfortable with him and Melanie had begun asking for him when she showed you her art projects or had questions about the walks of life. You had come to expect his presence in your store and found yourself looking forward to the chance to see him outside of Melanie’s school.

But what could he possibly have to gain from making himself a constant in your life?

You had asked before, a single question with a simple “Why not?” for a response that you had brushed off. Because it wasn’t too much of a big deal for him to stop by or help you lift the apothecary boxes or let Melanie talk his ear off.

But this was a big deal.

It was a big deal when he sat beside you until you fell asleep and it was a big deal that he was still standing here now, inches from you, eyes boring into yours.

“Why are you doing this, Azriel?”

Your question seemed to suck all of the air from the room. Azriel winced to such an infinitesimal degree you almost missed it. His fingers twitched as they rested on the counter. The plate of food sat forgotten, its intended distraction wasted.

“I’ve already said.”

You shook your head. “‘Why not’ was okay when you were stopping by the apothecary a few times a week and flirting with me for fun. It was okay when you were saving me from nosey teachers and opening doors when my hands were full. It was okay when this—” you jabbed your finger between your chest and his “—didn’t involve you in my apartment holding my daughter until she fell asleep. I need more than why not, Azriel. I need to understand if… if…”

“What?” he whispered so close the air between you warmed.

When had he gotten so close?

“I need to know if this isn’t safe. If there’s some other reason for all of this.”

This time, when Azriel winced, he flinched. His body seemed to stun and his face twisted into a frown etched with such an uncomfortable pain it was difficult to look at.

He spoke as his head shook. “I’ve told you this isn’t… I want you to feel safe with me. I thought I would have proved that was possible after this.”

“You have,” you were quick to reply. “I wouldn’t have been able to take care of Mel if you hadn’t been here. But, that’s the thing. I don’t even know how you knew to come here. You walked in asking if I was okay—asking where Melanie was. I know your shadows spy, but why, Azriel? Why take such an interest in me? In us?”

“Is it not enough to just want to know you?” he asked, his words tight and pained.

“No. For others, maybe. But not… not after everything I’ve been through. Not when everything I have could be ripped away. I need a reason, Azriel. I can’t let this happen without one. I can’t put Melanie in danger.”

“I don’t understand,” Azriel pleaded. He got closer, wrenching his head down to find your eyes. “Help me to understand. What danger are you in? I can explain, but I can’t protect you without knowing.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, tugging at your hair and regretting the action as a headache bloomed. You took a step back until your back met the kitchen wall.

“You can’t protect me, Azriel. You can’t.”

“I could if you—”

“It doesn’t make sense that you want to! You work for the High Lord. You spy for him! Do you have any idea what any of that means in the grand scheme of things? What it could mean if someone found out that the Night Court’s Spymaster was suddenly asking around about someone from Autumn?”

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, confusion marring his features, but you were breathing faster, the fever and the panic combining beneath your skin.

“I have stayed hidden for five years—five. I shouldn’t have sent Melanie to school. I shouldn’t have asked for help from anyone. If… if someone finds me—”

“No one will find you. Hey—hey.” Azriel invaded your space, your back against the wall and his hands against your face. His eyes softened as they caught yours. “No one is going to find you. You need a reason why I want to be here with you? Why I care about you and Mel?”

Your jaw quivered under his fingers. You nodded in place of speech, unable to find words that wouldn’t make tears fall down your cheeks.

Azriel stared back at you with so much torture and conflict in his eyes you almost wanted to take back the request. He took several breaths and seemed unsure of his next words. But he held your face in his hands with such surety, strong fingers unshaken.

The Shadowsinger brought you forward with the guide of his palms until his lips met your forehead.

And then he pulled back and said, “You are my mate. I want to keep you safe—to protect you and Melanie—because you are my mate. You are what I’ve been waiting for for hundreds of years and if you want nothing to do with me after this, that’s fine. But if you’ll have me, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

part 6

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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amialunatic · 2 months ago

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Just trust me baby..

divider credits to @anitalenia

Based on anon request: would you be willing to write a sam fic about his first time between him and reader where she has scars from her time with a vamp nest (say she was taken a while back and that’s how she got into hunting) and she’s insecure and a little anxious with having his mouth on her body because of the way she was once treated but sam is very patient and understanding. basically just really sweet and sam is catering and talks her through it :,)

Warning: Light smut, Fingering, Sam Winchester/ Hunter!Reader, Fem!Reader, brief mention of readers time in vampire nest.

A/N: Omg my first actual fic. I'm quite stoked to be putting it out. Nervous too. I hope you all like it. I'm starting simple and soft core ig.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

“Hey, you awake?” Dean called from the driver’s seat. That jolted you from down the memory lane. They were returning from the hunt. It was rough. At least 10 vampires. 3 newly turned, innocent, and pain-stricken but unable to control themselves. You guys had to kill them all. Everyone sustained injuries. That was natural. You getting bitten was not. You tried your best to not get bitten as it brought back nightmares that lasted quite a while than you cared to admit.

Sharp teeth piercing you had been a routine for weeks. Until you were rescued by Bobby and the boys. They found you on the brink of death. Several weeks of hospitalization later, you were fit to hunt. You hunted alone, focused mostly on vampires. And sometimes with the boys if the targets were nests. Helping those trapped there brought you catharsis. You wanted to be the hunter you needed all those weeks. And you strived your best to be that.

As you got out of Impala to the motel you were staying, you realized how tired you were. Slumped shoulders and bitten forearms, you moved slowly to your room. In the background, you hear Dean invite Sam for a drink and he refuses. As soon as you enter the room, you get into the shower. Maybe warm water can block out the sensations, the fangs that haunt your mind when you close your eyes. It never has, but you always hope it does this time. As you get out, red from the shower, you hear a knock. Sam’s voice calls out “Hey, it’s me.”

You open the door to see him standing at the door frame all fidgety. “I didn’t think you’d be showering.” he looked unsure almost second guessing his decision.

“I was done.” You moved back as he let himself in. Awkwardly standing with his arms on the chair, brows furrowed he asks “You okay?”. “As ok as you’d be after ganking a bunch of vampires I guess” you tried to lighten the situation. But Sam was having none of that “ You got bitten”. “Yes Sam, vampires bite. That’s like their whole MO.” you poured sarcasm to derail the conversation. This enraged Sam. “Don’t downplay this” his voice raises.

Reaching your breaking point and seeing that Sam wouldn’t leave you without a confrontation, you spit out the truth “You wanna know? OK. I’m fucking tired and I’ll probably have nightmares for days." Your outburst continued as you paced the room in a dressing gown. "You wanna know how weak I am, how the thing that happened to me years ago still brings me to my knees? There you go”. These moments were always followed by tears for you. But he didn't have to know that. You move across to the window facing the half-empty parking lot and turn away, not wishing to humiliate yourself further.

You hear the shuffling of feet as you feel two large hands wrap around me. “Y/N..” his voice laced with sympathy and concern. You lean into his familiar hug, your back nestled against his chest, his warmth enveloping your core. “Sam. I..I don’t want you..guys to see me weak. I am not weak.” you sigh. Sam chuckles “Now that’s the dean-est sentiment I’ve heard you express.” you appreciated his efforts to cheer you up.

“Hey it’s not like you too to sit around and express your feelings” you counter.

He sighs “I know. Me and Dean. Not the greatest examples of sharing feelings. But..you can tell stuff to me. You know that right?” He continues. “Also I don’t think you’re weak at all. Infact you’re one of the most badass hunters for recovering and facing your fears.”

You look down with a grateful smile “Thanks Sam.” As you turn around to face him, you take in his face. His eyes look desperate. Like he is trying to convince you that he can be your safe place. That you needn’t be scared of being vulnerable. And you can’t help but place a kiss between his furrowing eyebrows. Those lines that form when he is worried. You wanted to stop those and let him convince you. To forget the pain and nightmares even for a moment.

“Kiss me”

He looked at you, slightly surprised. “Now? You sure?”.

They had made out before. But this felt different. Somehow more intense, somehow more desperate.

“Yeah Sam, kiss me. Now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He bend down, caught your face with his hands as he pressed his lips on to yours. Restrained strength flowed through his hands that he tried to keep in check while pure gentleness caressed your lips. He lifted you effortlessly so your faces were leveled as he continued kissing you, gently tugging your lower lip with his teeth drawing out sighs. You mindlessly tugged his flannel, wishing it’d disappear.

“Patience” He chuckles as placing you on the desk, your back against the wall. You hastily removed the buttons one by one while he untied the knot of your dressing gown in a nanosecond. Your freshly showered skin glistening with water drops stops him in his tracks. As he stares at your underwear-clad body mesmerized, he stops to notice the bite on your forearm, still fiery red, even with the ointment around it. Around your shoulder and neck were faint scars. He caresses the skin around the bite, careful not to cause you any pain. After gently running his fingers along the scars when he looks back to your eyes he only notices your fierce stare, bestowed on his eyes, his swollen lips, and his now visible body, muscular and oh so strong. How you wanted him to take you then and there.

Not wishing to drag it any longer, he starts kissing you again as you gently run your hands through the battle scarred abdomen of his. Moving down to trace a drop of water from your jaw to your neck, he presses gentle kisses coaxing you to lean back your head opening up your neck and chest in the process. He practically groans as he gently nibble across you neck connecting to your shoulder.

In a flash, you freeze and push him away. All of it happened so sudden, Sam stared at you one feet away, confused. In a moment of clarity, it dawned on him. He gently came close to you and tentatively caressed your sides. Your apologetic eyes said everything it needed to. He lifted your chin up to him.

“hey hey..baby. , it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked at you concern etched in his forehead. When you remained silent he coaxed you “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just..I..was bitten..mouths on my body.” you shudder, visions running through the back of your eyes

“ Does it bring back memories?” He gently asks

“Sometimes, I just can’t block it. I want to Sam, believe me. I want this. I want you..so bad.” I look at him desperate.

“I know. But you know I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with right? We don’t have to do this at all”

“I want to. Sam. I need you.” you lock eyes with him, forehead burrowing

His eyes searched mine for any trace of hesitation. Seeing none, he reaffirms gently “Do you trust me, baby?” “I do” I whisper as I breath out.

“You can stop me whenever you need to.”

A corner of his lips curled revealing the deep dimple. “So no biting I guess?”

“Yeah, no biting.” You bit your lips slyly. “ Well not you anyway”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart” He nudge your lips again easing them apart. As the same time, his hands part your thighs as he stepped impossible close.

You feel his hands slipping the robe off you. Before long, his long fingers were moving closer to your core. His fingers slipped in to your panties and finding the wetness pooling, he groans. I met his gaze, my eyes a blend of desperation and embarrassment at being so affected by him. “Sam..”.

“I know baby” He looks at you for permission before plunging his finger in the wetness. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your fingers never managed to reach that deep. He ease it out. And again and again until you were a slobbering mess. To add to the torturous pleasure he lifts his palm so each thrust is paired with your clit being rubbed enough to cause friction but not enough to tip over. This was agony but delicious agony.

Sam looks into your convulsing face, his features radiating nothing but the desire to please you. To make you forget, to have a moment of pleasure, away from the darkness that consumes both of you. As you almost reach the height of pleasure, he adds in yet another finger. Through your hazily closed eyes, you don't see him kneeling. Suddenly you feel his warm mouth enveloping your clit. You gasp as your eyes flew open. “Sam..Sammy..” you say tentatively.

“Trust me baby..this will feel good” his voice is laced with soothing promise.

Before you can have further doubts, pleasure blankets you and drags you up to the height of it. As he sucks and laps gently, your hands involuntarily wander through his luscious locks. Finally with a cry and grasp of his hair, you tip over. His hands and lips soothe you through the fall with barely-there touches of your slit.

“oh god..that was..” you breathe heavily through your mouth as you struggle to push words out. Sam leans over and kiss you sloppily, with a goofy smile. “it’s cute to see you all thoughless and spent”

“Sam..you little jerk” you say in amidst panting.

“Hey remember I was the one making you moan my name a moment ago. Some gratitude” he smirks.

“And I’ll make you do the same, just you wait” you rope your hands through his neck pulling him.

"Is that a threat or a promise, honey? Either way, I'm all in." He interlocks his lips with yours, the deepening kiss tasting like an invitation for round two.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

MAybe there should be a second part! Idk. This felt long but not long enough at the same time. Please let me know if anyone would like a second part. I'll try to write one (meaning I'll probably stress over it and write it in 2 weeks)

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #jared padalecki #sam winchester fluff #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader

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bunnywritesjunk · 2 years ago

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My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks.

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization.

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read.

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.'

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega.

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match.

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega.

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down.

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed.

“What? Mom, you're too loud.”

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled.

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you.

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.”

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say.

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.”

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.”

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out.

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside.

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say.

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock.

“Come in.” You said.

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly.

Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily.

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page.

‘Congratulations!’ It read.

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag.

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply.

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously.

“Please hold while I transfer you.”

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve.

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?”

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.”

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.”

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?”

“No not at the moment.”

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.”

“Bye.”

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?”

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.”

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall.

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV.

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.”

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in.

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly.

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded.

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance.

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand.

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on.

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her.

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in.

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued.

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly.

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.”

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso.

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him.

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you.

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?”

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him.

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first.

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress.

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said.

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused.

“Put them on.” You encourage him.

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?”

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod.

“Thank you, Leibe.”

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?”

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day.

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?”

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled.

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in.

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?'

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.”

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.”

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through.

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant.

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?”

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask.

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.”

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well.

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.”

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said.

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign.

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled.

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said.

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex.

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said.

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words.

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation.

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.”

“Alright then, that's all that matters.”

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask.

“I also had a good time, liebe.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.”

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek.

“I'll see you soon, love.”

3K notes · View notes

st4rbwrry · 9 months ago

Text

━━━ ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 & 𝑤𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 ♱ t.f

warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.6k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded, university setting, violence i.e fighting, readers obsessed & it's lowkey giving omega/alpha trope lmao, public sex at a skate park, running from police, oral [ m.], riding, titty sucking, praise, minors aren't allowed!

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; this is a repost of one of my old fics so enjoy!

blood. it's seeped into the pearl white t-shirt of the man walking down the hall past you, dripping from his mouth, the look in his eyes careless as he held onto the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. to this day it felt like you were seeing him in slow motion. you could still hear how fast your heart paced, the intense eye contact between you two, your sneakers squeaking against the university's floors, hallway empty other than you, and the professor beside him.

his other hand was buried into his jean pockets, strolling with his chin up as if he wasn't phased by his injury, like he barely felt it. the dark-haired man burned his eyes into you, side-eyeing you and your skimpy cheer uniform, wanting to smirk at how entranced you were by him but couldn't given the pain on his face. for some reason you wanted so badly to ask if he was okay. clearly, he wasn't. the man had just been in a brutal fight where a student cut the side of his mouth with a switchblade. this you found out later in the day at lunch. people wouldn't stop talking about it. fushiguro, they called him. it was only his last name, simply because that's all people would refer to him as.

there was no explanation for your sudden infatuation for him. it was nonsensical. you never felt anything like that before, and you've only looked at him for literally no more than ten seconds. it was even more intense the moment you walked past each other, both of you looked back to catch another gaze for a few seconds, only you were too stunned, eyes widening and quickly whirling your head back around. he was suspended. why? he wasn't even the one to start the fight. since he had a reputation, it was easy for the school to see him as the bad apple. you actually despised the fact that the culprit who started the brawl was back in school only a week after while fushiguro remained absent.

i want to see him again. he's all you could think about. this town wasn't too big, so it's odd that you haven't gotten even a glimpse of him the entire two weeks he's been gone. not while walking the streets, not the mall where every person in town visited—then again he didn't seem like the type to do that. not the tattoo shop you worked at part time . . . nothing. friday comes around and you're stuck at work, the usual. since the shop you worked at didn't close until 2AM, your manager decided to let you out an hour early just to rest up for the weekend, thankfully off.

for some odd reason, you weren't tired, even after working a full week on top of dealing with courses and mastering cheer routines. balling the plaid black and white flannel your hands created sweater paws with tighter in your fist, you stroll peacefully down the sidewalks looking at the pretty city lights, blasting rock music until coming into view with an overnight bodega, wanting a few snacks for the night since you knew you were going to be up reading on your phone until possibly five in the morning.

you're greeted by the owner, smiling and waving, making sure to turn down your music to listen in on your surroundings. grabbing mostly chips and beef sticks, you hold all of your junk to your chest while making your way over to the refrigerators, needing a real drink since you haven't had one since jesus invented the calendar. trailing your fingers across the cool cans, you scrunch your face up at any budweiser, yards, or bud light. beer? hell no. wine sounded more like it. as you go to reach for a bottle, you catch a glimpse at a buff man at the front counter; midnight hair, all black clothing, knu skool vans, and a skateboard clutched between his right underarm hand. his items are being rung up, but you can't stop staring, squinting your eyes knowingly towards the stranger. why does he look so familiar?

"see you around, fushiguro," the man waves off, your eyes widening at the name, nearly tripping over a rack full of peanuts as you watch him nod once and exit the store, seeing the side of his face where his recent scar laid.

he's already out the store, and you rush to the counter, checking out after having to show your i.d. for the wine, saying goodnight as you snatch the clear plastic bag with a 'thanks!' and rush towards the mysterious man halfway down the block. he has his airpods in, so he doesn't hear how loud you're breathing or the thuds of your sneakers hitting the gravel. you practically bunny hop beside him making the insanely huge man jump a little, thick brows scrunching with annoyance at the inconvenience beside him. he pauses his music, never stopping his tracks as he continues to walk with you beside him.

"hey, stranger," you cheekily grin.

"hey," his voice is gruff, slightly scratchy. you clear your throat, ignoring the whiplash you were just given. "what are you doing out this late? pretty girls should be home around this time. it's not safe."

wow, protective already. you raise your brows at his sentence, slightly shocked he didn't tell you to fuck off—at least with that wording. wait, he called me pretty?!

"pretty girls have adult responsibilities. i just got off of work. besides, shouldn't reckless students be on house arrest around this time?"

he ignores you, so you come up with something else. "how's your scar?"

"it's a scar," he sighs.

"when will you be back in school?"

"not sure."

"in my opinion, i think that jackass dick sucker should get his shit kicked in. what fucktard cuts someone in the face?"

the man stops abruptly, causing you to let out an 'oof' as you bump into his side, the man giving you zero attention as he drops his skateboard on the ground to use, stepping onto it and begins to stroll away.

you drop your mouth open. "rude!"

"why are you talking to me?" he doesn't even have to yell, his voice is deep enough for you to still hear him. huffing, you jog towards him, trying your best to keep up with him.

"i like you!" you groan, irritated that he was being so ignorant, and that he was making you run in a goddamn skirt.

fushiguro laughs, and the reaction stuns you, as if he wasn't capable of such an action. "you don't know me. we go to the same uni, that doesn't make us friends."

"i'd like to be your friend, though, asshole."

"i don't need any friends."

"a girlfr—"

"no," he shuts down sternly, stopping at a walkway, looking both ways before crossing the street. you roll your eyes, chewing your inner cheek when you notice he's heading to a skate park just across the road, dark and empty, a few street lights illuminating just enough light for him to see the cemented ramps.

like he's getting away from talking to me that easily. you let a car pass by before rushing behind the muscular man, fushiguro seeing your presence once more and releasing an exasperated sigh. he just wanted to be alone. "guessing 'no' isn't in your vocabulary," he scowls, taking a seat at the edge of a ramp.

"no," you say, a cocky smile following.

he scoffs, digging into his grocery bag for a pack of skittles and a green apple flavored vape pen, laying on his back on the gravel to stare up at the moon, blowing out the vapor he sucked into his mouth. you pout your lips, taking a seat next to him, reaching into your bag for your wine, knocking a few sips down in silence.

"what's your deal?"

"i just find you interesting."

"no one talks to me. so why are you?"

"not even pretty girls like me?" biting your lip, you scan over his face, and it remains the same; stagnant. "i know there's women bowing at your feet to fuck you."

toji rolls his eyes, a habit. "whoever i fuck is none of your concern."

"so he's not a virgin, duly noted," you whisper to yourself.

"name."

"[♡]."

"cute," is all he says before standing to his feet, taking one more puff out of his pen before grabbing his skateboard and positioning it on the ledge of the ramp, steadily dropping his foot and falling down. you watch him with fascination as he skates, laying your chin in your palms with your elbows on your knees, leaning in like an attentive child. he looked so pretty under the moonlight.

this daydream ends when you notice a group of four men far behind bushes, titling your head to see them clearly. one of them, lanky with shoulder-length blonde hair, is seen handing the person before him a clear bag with tablets in them, and in return, gets cash. they're dealing drugs. minding your business, you turn your attention back to fushiguro whom notices this, and easily you can see the anger flash in his eyes as he jumps off his skateboard and lands on his feet beside you. it's not until the group of three approaches the two of you that you see why he's mad.

the guy dealing drugs just so happened to be river, aka the asshole who slashed his face. he stalks closer with a nasty laugh, clicking his tongue as he keeps mainly his attention on the big man beside you. "fushiguro!"

"toji," he corrects, not fond of people using his last name. toji, you repeat in your head. hot.

"good to see you all healed."

"healed is an understatement."

awe shit, you just know some shit is going down. you gather yourself, standing nearby but not too far behind him.

"the fuck do you want?" toji snarls, and you swallow your own lips, barricading an inappropriate sound.

river holds up a few clear zip lock bags stashed with drugs from his hoodie pocket, jangling them with a grin. "selling the goods. do you want some? ohh, wait. that's rude of me, i forgot you lived in a household full of mentally unstable people who feen for drugs."

you couldn't help but fix your posture and stand in front of toji before he beat the asshole to a pulp. by all means, don't hesitate. but, you wanted your turn first. toji doesn't allow it to phase him, since he's heard similar things a million times. what's funny is that this kid barely knows him, yet he seemed to acquire so much intel on his life.

"watch your fucking mouth," you seethe, face close to his and fists balled up. "before i cut your tongue out, then what will you have to talk shit?"

"out the way, bitch," river snarls, his hand wrapping tightly around your arm to yanking you to the side. "none of this has to do with you."

murder could sum up the stone cold stare in toji's eyes, the man inhaling before kicking his skateboard away, emerging forward with his head slightly cocked to the side. until you make this direct back to you by standing back in between again, scowling up at river who's ready to strike you this time, but, doesn't have the chance as you ball your fist and punch him hard across his jaw, not once either. the second hit is an uppercut. then comes the finale; kneeing him in the dick where he stumbles to the ground with a strained grunt.

toji stares down at the back of your head with an impressed raise of his brow, an ounce of his anger sufficing.

"last thing i am is a bitch. i'll fuck you up if you say some stupid shit like that to me again. the fuck," you're not even half done, marching forward until toji grabs your forearm and stops you, whipping your head around to catch his gaze, telling you to chill out without saying it. really, he's amused. but this isn't your fight.

he crosses around you, crouching down to river's level, latching his hand around his collar and dragging him to his feet without any emotion implanted on his face. it's all in his eyes. he's pissed that he insulted you. furious that he scarred his perfectly imperfect face. the nerve.

"the only reason you're alive is because i couldn't kill you on school grounds. don't think you're getting away so easily after what you did to my fucking face."

punch. the hit is so hard it makes you jump, practically hearing the bones in river's nose crack as toji hits him again, and again, again. all in his face to make a point. he's bleeding excessively, his so called 'friends' waiting until he's half beaten to try in step in.

"step back unless you wanna get fucked up next," he points, voice ravenous, making the two men freeze nervously. you shift in your spot, pushing back the acknowledgment of dampness between your legs.

"like i was saying," toji sniffs, ducking when river makes a lousy attempt at throwing a punch, toji grabbing his wrist, balling it in his palm as if it were a piece of paper, twisting his arm as river screams. toji pins it behind his back, shoving him down on the ground where he then presses his right shoe on the side of his bruised face. "don't look so tough without your knife now, huh? you're stupid to even try that on someone you just met. you don't know me. you don't know where the fuck i'm from."

"fuck. you," he spits out blood over toji's vans. you hold a hand over your heart dramatically, upset about him ruining his shoe. not so much about the fact that he's brutally assaulting a freshman, a kid. a kid whose also old enough to know right from wrong. he stepped into the wrong territory like an adult, so now, he'll get his ass whopped like one. he's lucky toji didn't press charges.

should i kill him? he wanted too, badly. the kid ruined his face, a scar impossible of fading into nothingness. it's there for life. he's an idiot kid. besides, he couldn't traumatize you like that. actually, he's scared you've seen worse. sighing, he picks the boy up once again and shoves him in the arms of his friends who weakly support him. river's sight is barely there, heaving over the gravel.

"i advise you not to cross my path, since i'm back tomorrow."

you gasp, catching everyone's attention. "you are?! oh my god."

toji's eyes widen the moment you squeal happily and jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around him. he's stuck, hands instinctively going to your waist, watching one of the guys before him turn beet red and quickly divert his attention to a tree. toji now realizes your skirt is riding up your ass, rolling his eyes and turning the other way, setting you down and tugging it back in its position with a clench of his jaw.

river stands from his feet, shoving away his friends and holding his gushing nose while staring dead at his partner who was beginning to grow a boner. he scoffs, disgusted. "tomato, quit acting like you don't jerk off to porn every week. it's just an ass."

"a nice one," the other says, boldly.

toji folds his arms across his chest, you mocking him by doing the same, waiting for the group to disperse. river, their wonderful leader, steps up to toji who ups his chin, ready to clock him, as if what he had gotten wasn't enough.

"this isn't over."

"yeah, they all say that. just make sure you take that advice seriously if you'd like to see another day," toji grits his teeth, river holding back his tongue, letting out a small 'tsk' before stumbling off with his posse.

"bitch ass," you mumble.

"enough," he snaps his finger in your face. you swallow, his hard stare and sudden closeness makes your stomach do backflips. fuck, he's so hot. "you're stupid for attacking him. he could've hurt you."

"stupid for standing up for myself? nah. as for him hurting me? you wouldn't have let that happen."

"says?" he sassed.

"i can see it in your eyes," toji's eyes divert to your plush lips, watching you move closer until you're chest to chest, feeling your hardened nipples graze him through your lace crop top. "you want me, therefore, you gotta keep your prize clean."

the sound of a switchblade catches him off guard, seeing you pull the weapon from your back, grabbing the bottom of your skirt and shredding off a long piece straight across.

"what are you doing?"

"your knuckles are bleeding," you say, tucking the blade away before grabbing his hand which he's stubborn on releasing strength before finally relaxing his hand, letting you bandage it. when you lower your lips to his palm, he feels his chest warm up, your teeth locking onto a piece of the fabric to pull the knot you made tighter. "all done."

you stroll away from him, taking a seat in your original position, wine and his skittles in your hand.

"hey, didn't you but your own shit?" he growls, stomping near you, the barbaric man so intriguing to toy with. he snatches them from you, sitting down and popping some into his mouth.

"share atleast." you pout.

he sighs. "hold out your palm."

giddy, you do as he says, toji pouring the contents into your hand, swinging your legs as you happily enjoy them.

"prize."

"huh?"

"it's what you said earlier. that i have to keep my prize clean. is that your way of saying you're rewarding me?"

"i think you're a cool ass person underneath that cold," you poke his chest. "quiet exterior. i salute you for not taking shit from so many people that look at you like a threat instead of a person. maybe i'm exaggerating, maybe i'm delusional, but . . . i feel like i see myself in you. or at-least the person i'm trying to become."

"vacant?" he jokes.

"admirable," you correct with a tiny smile, toji blinking. finishing your drink and tossing your head back, you hum contently from the feel of nighttime breeze. "from what i've heard, you deal with a lot, so i admire you for still being you aside from, you know, bullshit."

"that was sweet, i'm disgusted."

you hit his shoulder, sucking your teeth as he laughs wholeheartedly. he sits up, dark eyes hunting you like prey as you run your fingers through his straight hair, leaning closer to press a gentle kiss to his healing scar.

"i'll kill him for this," you fume silently, highly upset that a human being could do this to another. you knew it hurt like hell that day, he just didn't want to show it.

"it's nice to have someone care, i've never had that."

"me neither," those single pecks of kisses turn into multiple, the alcohol in your system giving you the balls to direct the situation, holding his face still in both your hands before gently kissing him. "let's care for each other."

toji grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in, opening his mouth to slip his tongue over yours, moaning through the pain on his face and deepening the kiss, free hand groping your ass over the thin black skirt you wore, thighs covered in fishnet stockings. you exhale, disconnecting your lips, licking them to relinquish the taste of him, desire fueling you completely. you sit on your knees, ignoring the pain of the concrete, deciding to shrug off your flannel and bundle it up beneath you; substitute for a pillow.

he's gawking at you like a hawk, groaning as you trail your lips over his neck, kissing, sucking, all while unzipping his jeans and pulling his heavy cock out, brick hard for a good minute now. it rose when you told him you'd kill river just for cutting his face. couldn't help it.

"been thinkin' about you all week," your head lowers, and his skin prickles with heat the moment those full lips encase his cock. you whimper with satisfaction before wrapping your dainty fingers around, barely fitting.

"me fuckin' too," his jaw drops, tossing his head back while leading his hand to your head to gently guide you, hissing once he easily hits the back of your throat that compresses around him salaciously. he hasn't gotten head in a while, almost forgot how good it felt. so much better than his hand. you moan from the approval, gyrating your hips in the air after feeling how soaked you were. your head bobs and your lips glide to his exact desire.

his thigh twitches the more you gag or swallow him down, a lewd pop sounding the empty park as you kiss along the underside where a prominent vein pulsates, sensually kissing at his tip, slicking the point of your tongue between his slit which makes him gasp, the sensation ticklish. you took pleasure in giving men head, making you drunk off it every time.

"ooh, fuck," toji throws his head back, slowly thrusting up into your mouth, hearing him hit into your throat, pupils flipping white. you moan when he whispers 'baby' or whimpers out a 'stay here' before holding your head down for a second or two, keeping that warmth around his cock a little longer, letting you go and to his surprise, not coughing.

you leave your tongue to drool over his tip, licking your swollen lips before hiking up your skirt, toji holding the back of your thighs as you arch above him, chest in his face, gasping as he latches his mouth over your nipple through your shirt. tearing open your stockings, imbedding his fingers into your skin, so fucking soft it makes his dick jump. you smelt nice, you looked pretty, you made him feel good . . . a prize indeed.

arching your back, you keep your left knee to the ground while your right foot remains flat, leg bent as you lift your ass and slick your entrance over his timid head, biting hard on your lower lip as you sink yourself down, clenching tight. the burn is pleasurable, so fucking thick you weren't sure if he'd even fit.

"you can do it, be gracious. aren't you rewarding me?" toji drags his teeth over your neck, behind your ear, clasping your hair once again. he's right, you totally can. it's just been a while since you've had anything remotely close to his size. you slowly work your hips to accommodate him, shuttering the lower you reach, taking a minute until he's somewhat in.

"feel that? how deep i am?" he taunts, hands gripping your hips to sink you down entirely, closing his eyes in bliss. you cry out.

toji finds it amusing that you're so fussy and talkative while engaging in conversation, but when he's smacking your ass and grunting by your ear each time you drop your ass down onto his jean covered thighs, grinding on his cock pruriently, you're not much of a shit talker. instead, you're sensitive, extremely. he rushes his fingers over your clit; you're crying. he pulls your hair; you're whimpering. he tongues your nipples over your top; you're screaming. he couldn't think properly. he's done this plenty of times, many women. with you, it's different. is it because there's an actual connection? he's fond of you. how the fuck was that possible after being in your presence for only two hours?

"yes, yes, yes," the deluge of whines makes the black haired man spellbound. your nails are forming crescents into his shoulders the faster you bounce, the two of your breaths mingling in the air, panting quicker.

"fu—fuck," toji's brows curl, paying close attention to the lecherous noise of your pussy taking him, dripping down his lower half like a faucet. "i'm getting fucking close."

"fuck me back," you plead, shifting forward as a way of telling him to lay down. he sighs shakily, your voice so goddamn venereal it's killing him. he tells you not to stop, laying on the gravel and bending one of his legs he uses to push up into you, getting rougher, bruising your flesh as he fucks you hard until you salivate, tongue sticking out and pupils scrolling back into your skull.

"good girl, cum for me," he hovers his hand inches away from your ass before hitting you over and over, your small hands compared to his balling up the black shirt on his chest, hips buckling and downright filthy moans leaving your throat as you cum to his command.

"the hell are you kids doing?!" a flashlight shines over the two of your faces, and you swear your heart falls to your ass. it's a cop. shit. gasping, you hide and hop off of him without hurting him, toji laughing as the two of you scramble to gather yourselves.

"go, go!" you yell, yanking his arm as you both run out of the park, toji being sure to snatch up his skateboard, leaving everything else behind. sprinting, the two of you rush past bushes, cars, and streets until you come in contact with a dark alleyway.

"fuck, we got caught," you laugh as you check the corner of the graffitied passageway in search for the cop you're almost sure didn't have the patience to chase either one of you.

a rough hand grabs onto your cheek, turning your gaze back to him, eyes sparkling under the dimly lit street lights. a solemn looks paints his features, fingers digging into your cheeks to make your lips pout. he traces his thumb over them, and you can tell what he wanted, reading him so well. he pushes you down to crouch before him, snagging your hair to lock you still while pulling his aching cock back out. by docility, you spread your lips apart, welcoming him with pride. he wastes no time, sliding his dick as deep as he desired and pounding until he's satiated. keeping that hand in your hair, the other resides below your chin, cupping it gently while fucking your mouth savagely.

"baby, fuck," he's spent, knees bending as he cums with a breathy moan, head resting on the wall behind your body. it's a lot since he's still sailing through his orgasm, slowly rolling his hips. you fall back, gulping before sucking him clean, making sure to hollow your cheeks, giggling when he whines. he's glaring down at you, always, dark hair dismantled over his forehead. you kiss his tip, licking your lips before tucking him back into his jeans and zipping him up.

toji helps you to your feet, wrapping his hand around your neck before kissing you tenderly, melting in his hold.

"good girl," he slips his tongue in your mouth, squeezing any part of you he liked. everywhere, basically.

good girl. it has you throbbing all over again. his praises felt warm. made you feel submissive, small, obedient. "wanna come to my house?"

toji nods, smiling shyly. "sure."

"can i tony hawk my way there?!" you ask excitedly.

toji raises his brow, shrugging with a chuckle. "okay?"

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x black reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #jjk fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.

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diamonddaze01 · 2 months ago

Note

Haiiii it's me again! Yes me the one who requested for jeonghan drabble. I wanna tell you that you wrote it so beautifully. The last part hit right into my heart. You conveyed every emotion so perfectly. I loved it!

I wanna request for another jeonghan drabble no. 70. Make them be rivals yk enemies to lovers. I love that trope. Oh and if you make jeonghan jealous in that fic it'll be sooo good!

Lastly love you <3333

sore memories

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "I didn't realize I needed your permission." au: college au | warnings: mentions of sex a/n: hello you are so so sweet! thank you for coming off anon to introduce yourself! I hope you love this as much as mafia!hannie

The party was alive with music, laughter, and too many faces you didn’t care to remember. Somewhere in the haze of flashing lights and sticky floors, you were trying to lose yourself in the evening. The guy in front of you—tall, generic, and charming enough—was speaking, but you weren’t listening. Not really.

Not when you could feel Jeonghan’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

He leaned casually against the far wall, a picture of ease, holding a drink he probably wasn’t even sipping. His dark hair fell just enough into his eyes to look unintentional, and his lips curled in that signature smirk that could both captivate and infuriate. You hated how often it did the latter.

And, like clockwork, it started again—the simmering irritation in your chest, the sense that wherever Jeonghan was, peace was not. It always came back to this—the constant back and forth, the verbal sparring that sparked every time you crossed paths. You’d known Jeonghan for years, and if you could go back and change one thing, it would be meeting him.

It had started your first year of college, at a party much like this one. Jeonghan had been a stranger then, someone with an effortless charm that made people gravitate toward him. He’d introduced himself with that smirk of his, cocky and self-assured in a way that should’ve been a warning. Instead, you’d found yourself drawn to him, his easy banter and sparkling eyes too intriguing to resist.

By the end of the night, you’d ended up in his bed, tangled in his sheets and his laughter. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like something real.

Until you woke up the next morning to find the bed empty. No Jeonghan. Just a hastily scribbled note on his pillow.

“Thanks for the fun. See you around.”

The humiliation had crawled through your chest like a slow burn, leaving behind a simmering anger that hadn’t dulled with time. You’d told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the sting of his absence—and that damned note—had never quite faded.

It wasn’t just the note, though. It was the way Jeonghan acted after, like nothing had happened. Like you were just another face in the crowd. The way he leaned into every conversation with a smirk, always teasing, always too close. Like he enjoyed watching you bristle.

And now, years later, nothing had changed. Except maybe everything had, because the resentment wasn’t enough to drown out the spark that flared every time you locked eyes with him.

You looked away, focusing on the man in front of you. He was tall, his voice smooth, but the words might as well have been water hitting glass. You nodded along out of politeness, sipping your drink and willing yourself to stay in the moment.

But Jeonghan was watching. You could feel it—the subtle weight of his gaze, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

And, inevitably, he approached. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in pretending to care about whatever the guy was saying. But then came the unmistakable sensation of being under a spotlight, the air around you shifting with his presence.

“Having fun?” His voice was warm honey with a razor’s edge.

Your grip tightened slightly on your cup as you turned to him, your smile thin. “I was.”

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that sent an unwanted flicker of heat through you. His eyes roved over you briefly, his gaze lingering like he was assessing your armor. He tilted his head toward the guy who had already started to drift away. “That guy,” he said with mock interest. “He your type?”

You let out a sharp exhale, already bracing for the inevitable headache. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he replied, his smirk widening just enough to betray the lie. His eyes sparkled with something teasing, as though you were his favorite game to play. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who’d settle for boring.”

Your jaw clenched, your nails biting into the plastic of your cup. “And you would know, wouldn’t you?”

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face—too fast to name but heavy enough to make you pause. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual nonchalance. “Touché,” he murmured.

He stepped closer, and you fought the instinct to take a step back. He had a way of closing the space between you with casual arrogance, like the mere act of breathing the same air was his right.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jeonghan pressed, his voice soft but insistent, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

The irritation bubbled over. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

His smirk faltered, just slightly, and you caught the faintest hint of something raw in his expression. His fingers curled around the rim of his cup, tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, steadier. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend I don’t care.”

For a moment, the noise of the party faded, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You opened your mouth to retort, but the look in his eyes stopped you short. There was something unnervingly honest there, a vulnerability that threw you off balance.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less pointed. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated motion that sent a few strands falling messily across his forehead. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of his words was too much. “That night—I left because I didn’t know what else to do. I woke up, and it scared the hell out of me how much I wanted to stay. So, I ran. And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

The confession hit like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers tightened around your cup, and you looked away, your vision blurring slightly as the memory of that morning resurfaced.

“You left a note,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know,” he said, his tone softer now, tinged with guilt. “It was a coward’s move. But believe me when I say, it wasn’t because you didn’t matter.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, searching for any sign of insincerity. But his body betrayed no games, no walls. His hands fidgeted with his cup, his posture slightly tense, and for the first time, he didn’t seem so untouchable.

“Why now?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His lips parted, his tongue darting out briefly to wet them before he answered. “Because I’m tired,” he said simply, his shoulders squaring again as if he’d made some unspoken decision. “Tired of pretending I don’t care, tired of seeing you with guys who’ll never know you the way I do.”

His gaze burned into yours, unyielding, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him.

“Say the word,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly, sending a jolt through your skin. “And I’ll walk away. But don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You swallowed hard, the words lodged in your throat as your chest tightened. Your gaze dropped to the floor, your heart warring with your pride.

“You don’t get to break my heart twice,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The faint tremor in your words made his expression crumble, his hand reaching out hesitantly before falling back to his side. “I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone catching you off guard. “Not this time.”

And for the first time in years, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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kurokawaia · 7 months ago

Text

❛ Jealousy ❜

Jiang Cheng X Fem!Reader

WC;3.4 k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; afab reader, she her pronouns, jealous feelings, NSFW, smut, PIV, PWP, rough sex, begging, breeding, praise, implied manhandling, possessiveness, implied size kink, reader is depicted to be shorter that him + probably more i cant think of

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯:: (filled request) Hii! I read your fic with LWJ and oh my gosh I fell in love and cant wait for part 2 🤩I have some idea and I'd like to ask you very very nicely if you could write a fic with jiang cheng (fluff to smut if it's okay) when wwx returns and he finds out that JC is married and maybe reader is busy answering all the questions that wwx has and JC gets jealous? 🤭Thank you in advance and take care! <333 - ANON

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

You stood at Lotus Pier's busiest entrance, awaiting Jiang Cheng's return, the autumn breeze playing with your hair. News had reached you: the one who was famous for his cruelty, Wei Wuxian, had reappeared. And you couldn't help but feel bubbles of anxiety rising up in your chest. You've never seen Wei Wuixian before but knew he was Jiang Change brother.

When Jiang Cheng finally arrived, he had a guarded expression, his eyes darting around the crowd. His gaze landed on you, and immediate relief crossed his face before it settled back into its usual stoic mask.

"Jiang Cheng," you called softly, stepping forward. "Glad to see you back."

He grunted in acknowledgement, attention captured just a moment by the reappearance of Wei Wuxian from the crowd, as brash and bright as ever.

"Jiang Cheng!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his loud voice attracting the attention of everyone else in the courtyard. "It's been so long!"

There was a tense muscle in Jiang Cheng's jaw, but he returned the brief greeting. You watched as Wei Wuxian immediately peppered Jiang Cheng with questions, asking him everything that had happened over the years. You knew Jiang Cheng's temper did not hold much patience for Wei Wuxian's antics.

"You must have so much to tell," you cut in, diverting Wei Wuxian's focus from Jiang Cheng. "Why don't we sit down and catch up?"

You pulled Wei Wuxian out, leaving Jiang Cheng by himself, his expression inscrutable, but you sensed that he was irritated. All the time as you answered Wei Wuxian's questions on you, and in particular on how you and Jiang Cheng are married, that it is of very recent development, you could not resist peeking at Jiang Cheng.

Even his face was tense, with crossed arms, as he just stood watching the two of you. Occasionally, his gaze would flicker to you, and his features would tighten subtly.

Hours passed with stories and laughter until finally, Wei Wuxian seemed to run out of questions. "I should let you get back to your duties," he said, grinning as he gave you a playful nudge. "But we'll catch up again soon, right?"

"Definitely," you assured him and watched him walk back through the crowded streets back to Jiang Cheng. As one or two more words were exchanged between the two, a feeling arose within you that something must have changed that profound relationship between you and Jiang Cheng.

The courtyard had emptied now, and Lotus Pier was settling into its nighttime calm, when Jiang Cheng found you standing at the edge of the water, looking out over the moonlit surface.

"It really seemed like you were enjoying your catching up," he said, his voice betraying evident jealousy.

"He had many questions," you said carefully, turning toward him. "I only wanted to make sure he felt welcomed."

Jiang Cheng's face slightly darkened. "You were busy," he grumbled back, his voice a shade sharper than usual.

"I'm sorry if I neglected you," you said softly, drawing closer. "But you know Wei Wuxian—once he starts talking."

"He never stops," Jiang Cheng finished, his face twitching slightly with annoyance. "It's like nothing's changed."

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Things have changed, Jiang Cheng," you said at last, meeting his gaze. "We've changed."

His face averted, jaw clenched. "Have we?"

You reached out to touch his arm. "Yes," you persisted, pressing on with a firm tone. "We have come a very long way since those days."

He didn't answer right away, but when he turned back to you, the tension did seem to relax a bit in his face. "I know," he agreed in a low voice. "It's just that."

"Just what?" you pressed on softly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing him again, it brings back memories," he finally admitted, almost whispering. "And seeing you with him."

You squeezed his arm reassuringly. "You don't need to be jealous, Jiang Cheng," he said softly. "Wei Wuxian and I share a history, but you and I share something different."

"It doesn't matter," he replied, reaching out his hand to squeeze my plump cheeks. "You are my wife." He put an emphasis on the 'My'. Very sacredly and respectfully, you murmured, moving in closer to his touch, the warmth of his hand on your cheek. "And you are my husband."

He looks at you again with an expression that softens to relief tinged with possessiveness. "I don't want to lose you," he tells you with the whisper of fear folded into his voice.

"You won't," you reassured him, reaching up to place your hand over his. "Wei Wuxian may have returned, but my heart belongs to you."

His eyes locked onto yours for a really long time while the moonlight gleamed off his. "Promise me," he whispered, and his thumb stroked your cheek lightly. "Promise me you'll be standing with me here forever."

"I promise," you whispered back. "I'll be here always, Cheng."

"You're mine, Y/n," Jiang Cheng huffed before he yanked your face toward his and press his lips roughly against your own, staring for a second before you closed your eyes,.

His tongue slid inside your warm cavern, tangling with your tongue and causing a gasp to slip from your mouth against his. The noise was muffled by Jiang Cheng's mouth, and your hands shakily placed themselves on his chest, still in shock from the surprising action he did, in public, no less.

He wasn't usually this forward, but you weren't protesting, you loved the feeling that you received when Jian Cheng kissed you.

Jiang Cheng's hand resting on the centre of your back trailed down, slipping around to your chest, where it was about to untie the sash that held your hanfu together. You pulled away hastily, a pout on your lips as Jiang Cheng looked down at you confused.

"What?" he scoffed.

"Not outside," you mumbled, head falling to his shoulder and he sighed, realizing.

He only wanted you to the extent of proving to everyone that you were his and his alone.

So that Wei Wuxian would finally leave you alone.

A gasp left you at the lips when Jiang Cheng picked you up, seamlessly making your figure appear minute in contrast to his own as he carried you to your shared room and placed you with slight haste onto the bed.

Jiang Cheng undresses his robes, revealing a body—bared, yet meant only for your eyes. You watch the muscles on his back ripple slightly as he unties the knot in his hair, black stands falling down his back before he makes his way over to you.

Straddling your hips, he began slowly undoing the sashes and ties to your hanfu. You let out a sigh at the pace that your lover was going at. Small hands hold the wrists of Jiang Chengs and he quirks a brow.

"Cheng, p-please," you breath out, face flushed and embarrassed. ".please b-be faster."

"Alright," Jiang Cheng hummed, untying your Hanfu at a faster rate.

He made room on top of you, tousling tongues again as he slipped your socked panties down your smooth legs. Jiang Cheng's long, thin fingers slide down your slicked folds and burrow past them, a mewl eliciting from your mouth.

Your arms tighten around his back and neck as his fingers press against your throbbing clit, and you are washed with pleasure, breathless and craving more. A moan leaves your parted lips as your back arches into his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut, but Cheng studied every minuscule movement and reaction your body made as his fingers toyed with your puffy clit, getting slicked by your arousal. Your legs squeeze around his hips, moans stringing out your mouth before you felt his digits slid to your seeping hole.

In less than an instant, the two fingers slipped inside your gummy soaked walls, causing your eyes to snap open. "Feel good?" Jiang Cheng questioned. You could only nod frantically.

"So good," you whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your spongy walls. "I–It feels so good, Cheng."

"Yeah? And who's making you feel this good?" He asked, and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Y - You're makin' me feel s' good, Jiang Cheng," you whimper. "So good

It's too intense, the perfect combination of pleasure and pressure that you can't contain from being blasted by your voice and into his shoulder. You press your lips to his shoulder, muffling the sounds that come out from the depths of you. His fingers plunged into you, and the heat moved throughout your system, tormenting every thought within you. Each little movement, each curve, sent electric shocks of pleasure radiating through your body.

Jiang Cheng's fingers are slick as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touches. The combination between the fingertips of a master and the strength of the connection has you pressed ever closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. Time stood still, a second of pure bliss, as you are consumed by wonderful pleasure coursing through your system.

His fingers did not stop their rhythm and went on pumping in and out of your getting-leak hole. There was a foreign tension developing inside your lower stomach; the pleasure tightened inside your stomach.

You shakily wrap your legs around his, your body quivering in anticipation of each and every one of his moves, responding to his every touch. Chant's of his name were leaving your mouth, voice filled with desire and need while comfort words left his mouth to stabilize you.

Tears welled in your eyes wanting to desperately release the coil that was growing in your stomach.

"Cheng, please," you sob out, wanting that euphoric tension to empty into your body.

But he complies, pressing the pad of his thumb into your clit with a soft groan, yet another layer of pleasure to stack onto what already was. It's pure electricity. You let my back arch in response. "Beg for it," Jiang Cheng hummed against your skin.

"Please, Cheng," I sob. "I need to. So good. Making me feel so good."

"More," he said, teeth digging into my neck, my head thrown back against the pillow.

"Please, please, please," you whimper. "I need it, Cheng," you mewl. "Please, I need it," you mumbled out and Jiang Cheng lifts his head from your neck, admiring the trails of splotches of red.

Jiang Cheng cupped your chin with his free hand, angling your face toward him with eyes staring intently into your own. "Louder," he hummed, leaning in, wanting to hear the words simply spill from those plumped, pretty lips.

Your eyes screw shut as you continued on, desperate for the release you so desperately needed. "Please, please."

"Look at me when you beg for me," he barked, his eyes working, trying to see you fall apart underneath him.

Your his, no one elses.

Eyes snapped open at his command, wanting to release badly. "I want it, please, Cheng, I want you so bad, only you, please," you whimper and you saw his eyes flicker in approval causing a swell of happiness to surge through your body.

"That's it," he reassured, allowing you to release, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure rises, the tension building with every second that passes until you teeter on the edge of release. It's a pure moment of surrender, where the pleasure is supreme and you are overtaken by the overwhelming ecstasy that floods over you.

Waves of ecstasy hit you, leaving your legs trembling and weak, unable to stand even for the greatest sensation. He slips his fingers from your drenched hole, and you continue trembling from the aftertaste of the orgasm.

A mewl leaves your mouth at the sensation of his fingers leaving your soaked cunt. Jiang Cheng pressed his lips against yours, not as rough as before but still with the same impression, and you moan into the kiss.

"I wan' more," you whimper out through his tongue entangled with yours.

"Yeah?" Jiang Cheng hums against your lips and you nod.

"God, I need you, so bad," you add. "Cheng, please, can't leave me like this."

Jiang Cheng filled you around, your stomach pressed against the bed while his abs were flush against your back. His hands moved to grip behind your small ones, rendering your ability to squirm out of Jiang Cheng's hold.

Jiang Cheng's breath sent shivers down your ear, and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation. Now, your core was getting wetter; your body was trying to squirm away from the imposing hold he had on you.

Jiang Cheng slid his hands in this subtle push-and-pull motion, changing his hold so one of his hands can grip both of yours above your head and careful not to get your hair caught in-between the movements. You let out a content sigh as Cheng rose his body just a little, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance.

"Sodden," he murmurs against your ear, and then takes a bite of the collagen, and you gasp at the unexpected move.

Then, you felt a heavy, pulsing head press against your clit, and you moaned from the contact. You tried to squirm away from the cause of pleasure, only to be unable to do so, for Jiang Cheng knew your body better than you did yourself—he knew you were going to try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight on you once more.

You held your breath as Jiang Cheng sank his flesh into your spongey walls, the ridges squeezing his length with every thrust into your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths as Jiang Cheng's length nudged the deepest spot within you.

"'Look how you take me in,' he grunts. 'Such a good little slut.' You sigh in pleasure at degrading praise—the way he knew you enjoyed being worshiped in an abasement. He savored his words, words that hit so deep, and in a way, he never wanted to call you anything else.".

But he didn't move, he wanted to savor how you wanted to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Jiang Cheng's cock prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Those hot, tender kisses made their way from your ear down to that dip of your neck to your shoulder right as, with an exhale that breathlessly kills you, Jiang Cheng rolled his hips into yours. A moan slipped out from your mouth, his thick length scraping over all the sensitive spots of your heated insides.

Jiang Cheng splay your legs apart with his knees, so any inclinations from you are ensured to be suppressed with his efforts to keep you still. Underneath him, your beautiful body paled in comparison to his colossal frame. He hoped that you would not budge from his ensnared arms. And true enough, he had his way.

He speeded up further in his own movements, his cock thrusting deep in my needy hole, strained moans and whining leaving your throat. Jiang Cheng could be heard panting in your ear, letting out the occasional deep groan with the sounds that made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Jiang Cheng was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip knocking against that soft, gummy spot inside my cunt, and I felt I could fly over the edge, scream out in fulfilment. "Found it," he breathed into you, making you let out a moaned sigh, shaking against him with the pleasure. "Found it, hm?" Jiang Cheng smirks. "Am I making you feel so good, huh?"

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of his hips, but as you arched back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. "Y-yeah," you sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "B-but. Too much. Slow down, too much."

His hips picking up in pace now, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, how contradicting he thought your words were, you were denying your body the release that you so desperately needed. "Your taking me so well though," Jiang Cheng added. "You can take it, your so close."

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You had the sudden instinct to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't; his weight was too heavy for you to move against him. You were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"I—I wanna come," you cry out mewling. "So big, you feel so big, Jiang Cheng."

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened, your hips getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifting you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Jiang Cheng hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Taking me so deep, making me feel so good, making you feel so good, aren't I?" Jiang Cheng moaned, drawing back from your mouth and pushing the arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripple again against his lower abdomen, watching your pussy with grey eyes'. Watching how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of arousal around the base of his cock. "Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Jiang Cheng groaned with his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched you fall apart and tremble from his dick, with broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

A satisfied smirk came onto Jiang Cheng's face as he watched those tears that welled in your fluffy lash line spill down your smooth cheeks. "Look how good you are taking me," groaned Jiang Cheng. "So good. Love you so much."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad. 'M love you too!"

You clench around his length as he picks up his pace. Instantly accommodating the speed, your moans escalate. Chasing with a deep moan, he mumbled in my ear while he leaned down, and my insides stirred, clenching around his length. "How much you need me?" rasps Jiang Cheng in your ear.

"Want you bad!" you whimper, being unable to grasp any thoughts that swelled into your head. "You make me feel so good!"

"Say it again, wanna hear it," Jiang Cheng grunts his teeth grinding together.

You moan out, your body trembling. "You make me feel so good, Cheng, want you so much," you hiccup out as the coil in your stomach tightened while his heavy balls slapped against your swollen clit.

"Nnggh, that's it," Jiang Cheng groans back, not allowing you to say anything towards the end, wantonly ready to fill your cunt up with his seed.

"Please, Cheng, I wanna come," you moan. "Want you to make me come."

"That's it," he groaned, and you spasmed around his length, as your high washed over you, your legs shaking, as his weight pressed down even more than it already was. He didn't slow his thrusts—a fact rather evident, as I let out whimper after whimper of overstimulation—but Jiang Cheng continued to help it, his hips rutting into mine, helping me ride out my orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan he was back, lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, cumming, spilling inside me which caused me to moan into his kiss. Jiang Cheng slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt before fingering the liquid back into your cunt.

The grip of Jiang Cheng's hands on your hips tightened a bit as he gracefully rolled you to lie on your back and pulled back far enough so you could see the intensity in his eyes as he dipped down, taking your lips in a chaste but at the same time almost possessive kiss. The world faded away. There was just you two in that shared moment of intimacy.

And when the kiss finally ended, his forehead rested against yours. "You are mine," he murmured with voice filled with affection. "Mine and nobody else's."

Your heart swelled with the words he uttered, causing a warmth in your chest as you nodded. "Yes, Jiang Cheng," you replied softly, your voice tender and kind. "I'm yours and yours only."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

#mdzs x reader #mdzs smut #x fem! reader #afab reader #jiang cheng x reader #jiang cheng smut #jiang cheng x fem! reader #jiang cheng x fem! reader smut

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year ago

Note

hi!

I saw you were in desperate need of requests for our lovely Slytherin boys, so I figured I'd help haha.

Would you be inspired by "how the Slytherin boys would spend a rainy Sunday morning with you?" if not it's alright :)

love <3

How the Slytherin Boys Would Spend a Rainy Morning with You

Request: Would you be inspired by "how the Slytherin boys would spend a rainy Sunday morning with you?" if not it's alright :)

Hi! This is my first time doing one of these, so hopefully I do alright. Besides Regulus, I’ve never written for these characters, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of it. Also, I’ve never read the fics Enzo and Mattheo are from, so this is just a little bit of research and a vibe I'm going with. If you think anything is out of character, please tell me, I’m happy getting any feedback to use in later work. Also, I’m ignoring that the boys' dorms are in the dungeons, since I wanted to put a window for some of them. Anyways, thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it :)

(Warnings: mentions of insomnia, insecurity, smoking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Theodore Nott:

i think he’s definitely an insomniac. any amount of noise is going to wake him up, and then he’ll just be in his head till he finally forces himself out of bed.

i do think the sound of rain would make him tired too, but it would be so distracting that he couldn’t sleep through it. he’d be so frustrated, and maybe a little grumpy.

before you, he’d use the time to smoke outside under a covering undisturbed. but with you, he just wouldn’t be able to bring himself to get out of bed. he wants to go smoke, but he’s not about to wake you up. you’d ask him if he wants to go outside once you wake up, but he’d just shake his head.

you’re a much needed distraction, and he just wants to be close to you. i think he’s a bit touch starved, and he’d want you to hold him while he rests a little while longer.

nap time if he can fall asleep for sure. you’d be able to see how tired he was, and just gently try to coax him to rest for a little while longer till the rain passed.

Theo had been up for quite a while when you finally stirred. It was still quite early, and you had not intended on getting up until you felt the empty spot in the bed next to you. You found him sitting at the foot of the bed, a far off look in his eye. You furrowed your brows in confusion, sitting up to reach out to him. He nearly jumped up as he felt your hand on his shoulder, only relaxing when he turned around to see you gazing up at him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, running your thumb along the curve of his shoulder. “Can’t sleep?”

He just nodded his head to the window where you could see the rain breaching the wake of the Black Lake. “The rain. It woke me up a little bit ago.”

“A little bit?” You asked, trying to hide your frown when you saw the dark rings developing around and under his eyes.

He hadn’t slept well the past couple of nights, and you were hoping he was going to do better with you sleeping with him. But the weather had other plans.

He let out a frustrated sigh, having to take a calming breath. “Just maybe an hour or two.”

You could tell how aggravated not being able to sleep was making him. He couldn't sleep when he tried–and he couldn’t stay asleep once he finally managed to drift off. It was a vicious cycle, and you wished you could ease his pain. You looked over to the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, seeing that one had been pulled out but not lit.

You gave his shoulder a squeeze, your voice soft. “Wanna go outside and smoke? I’ll come with you if you do, just let me–”.

Theo could feel embarrassment bubbling in his chest, feeling his skin heat. You knew him so well, even when neither of you had to say anything. You just understood how he ticked, and sometimes that frightened him.

He knew there was nothing about him that you judged or looked down on–he knew that. But sometimes, with how gentle and understanding you treated him, he’d begin to feel like a burden. Like he was something you convinced yourself you had to fix out of obligation, not because you wanted to. He couldn’t have been more wrong, but it was hard for him to see that. And when he saw you going out of your way to try and help him, he shut it down.

“No, pretty girl,” he interrupted, reaching up to cradle your cheek in his palm. “I’ll go later. Go back to sleep. You don’t need to be up for a while.”

You could feel your chest tighten. He needed your help, but he didn’t know how to ask for it–he didn’t know how to accept it. The day had barely started, and you could see how drained he was already. And with a full week of classes coming up?

He wasn't going to make it.

“Come here, sweet boy,” you pleaded, laying back down against the pillows and opening your arms. “Forget about the rain for a moment. Just lay with me for a bit. You don’t have to sleep–just close your eyes and breath.”

Theo almost said no.

He was so close to shaking his head and brushing you off, but he couldn’t ignore the look in your eyes. You wanted to hold him just as much as he needed to be held, and he was so exhausted that he didn’t have it in him to argue. He finally relented, crawling back into bed with you under the covers. He rested his head against your chest, letting his arms settle around your waist. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It was quiet for a moment as you stared up at the ceiling, his gaze set on the window.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he murmured after a moment, pressing a kiss into your skin. “It’s nice.”

You smiled, knowing he could hear how your heart fluttered at his words. “Good. Focus on that, not the rain. Close your eyes, baby. Just rest.”

—

Lorenzo Berkshire:

this man is 100% the kind of guy that stomped in puddles as a little kid after it rained, even if his parents yelled at him for it.

he’d want to let you sleep, but he’d be so excited that—if you didn’t wake up fast enough—he’s easing you awake and begging you to come outside with him.

he wouldn’t want you getting wet tho, he doesn’t want you catching a cold or feeling uncomfortable. he just wants to be able to look at you while he enjoys his morning.

if you wanna splash in the puddles with him, he’ll get over himself and agree. but if you get sick, you’re getting a firm “i told you so,” but of course he’d take care of you anyways.

he’d think you look ADORABLE, even if you were soaked. once you get back inside to change, you better believe that man is throwing you one of his hoodies before you have a chance to put on something else.

You groaned as the bed shifted next to you, and a hand gently pulled at your shoulder. It was far too early for you to be up—Enzo especially, who loved nothing more than to sleep in—and you shrugged away as you buried your face in the pillows.

“Honey, please,” Enzo pleaded with you, a warm hand coming to cup your cheek. “I can’t wait any longer.”

You cracked one eye open, peering up at him with a huff of frustration. “What is it?”

“It’s raining!” He said excitedly, rolling out of bed to peer out the window.

You smiled, letting out an exasperated chuckle. You groaned as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Enzo was practically halfway out the window already, leaning over the rail to see the grounds below.

“It rains nearly every week, darling,” you said, the covers pooling around your waist.

“Not like this,” he rationalized, coming back over to the bed to put on his shoes. “The puddles down there are massive.”

You smiled wider, leaning down to the foot of the bed where he was sitting to wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re so adorable, sometimes. Still a kid at heart, I think. My life would be a lot happier if I could see it like how you see yours.”

“Actually, I’m adorable all the time,” he corrected, turning around to press a kiss to your cheek. “But you’re the reason my life is happy. Jumping in those puddles downstairs will just make me happier. Come with me?”

You nodded, throwing on some clothes before following him down the stairs to the ground below.

You winced as he slipped before steadying himself, letting out a laugh as he continued running. You internally urged him to be more careful, but you couldn’t help but smile from under the covered archway as he splashed around in the water, a dreamy glaze over his eyes. It must have been quite the sight to anyone looking out the windows above you.

One of the most popular Slytherins in the entire school–splashing around in puddles like a child.

After a moment, you stepped out into the rain with him. He held out a hand for you to steady yourself, before placing his hands on your waist to keep you from slipping. He smoothed your hair back to keep it from matting to your face when you stilled.

“Go back under the cover, sweetheart. It’s too cold. I don’t want you getting sick out here.”

You shook your head, letting your arms settle around his neck. “And why would I do that? You’re out here. You’re just as likely to get sick.”

“Yes, but I have you to take care of me. You’ll end up with Madam Pomfrey if you get sick, she’s a lot more capable of taking care of you than me.”

You shrugged, blinking the rain out of your eyes. “Poppy and I get along quite well.”

Enzo let you stay out with him another moment longer, before he was leading you both back inside. As soon as you got back up to his dorm, he was casting a Warming Charm on you and shoving you into the bathroom to change clothes. The second you stepped out, he was helping you pull one of his hoodies over your head.

“Better?” You asked, grinning when his cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

He nodded, pulling you close. “Better.

—

Mattheo Riddle:

rainy day? oh, you mean never come out from under the covers day?

he’d absolutely whine about being cold. expect cold feet touching your legs, even when you’re squirming and trying to push him away. he’s not letting go. you’re his personal heater.

he’s definitely using it as a day to just be close to you and talk. he hardly ever lets himself be completely vulnerable around you, but being this close to you makes him feel like he can. just listen as best you can, and he’ll value that time with you so much.

i do think he’d get a bit uncomfortable and restless after a while, but he’d still want to keep talking to you like this. so you’d come up with some excuse to bring him somewhere else secluded so he can still be open with you but more comfortably.

but getting wet? an absolute no from him. wherever you take him has to be dry, or you will be hearing about it from him for the rest of the day.

You woke up to ice cold feet rubbing against your shins, opening your eyes with a gasp. Mattheo had wrapped himself around you tightly, his arms trapping you in his hold.

“Mattheo!” You whined, trying to squirm away. “Matty, please get your feet off me. And, for Merlin’s sake, put on socks! I told you last time!”

“I can’t get out of bed in this weather! It’s too cold, darling.”

You could practically feel his teeth chattering. He nuzzled his head into your neck, but you could feel his grin when he slid his foot down your leg. You eventually relented, turning around in his hold to face him so he could pull you closer.

“Come here, you big baby,” you mused, making it a point to kick his foot away before you hooked your leg around his to warm him up.

You stayed like that for a long while, his head tucked up into your neck. Every once in a while, he’d murmur something into your skin, his voice low as he talked to you. You listened, muttering praises into his ear and coaxing him to continue every time there was a moment of silence. It was unusual to have him be this open with you, and you weren’t about to let him pull away.

After a while, Mattheo started to fidget. He’d stretch a limb one at a time before curling back into you, continuing to talk. You could see the strain on his face—you could hear it in his voice. Finally, you reached for your wand, casting a Warming Charm over you both. You stood up, pulling on a hoodie of his before passing another one to him.

“Come on, my love. Your bed is too tiny and the dungeons are too cold for us to both be cooped up in here all day. Let’s get you warm somewhere else.”

He grumbled as he pulled himself out of bed, but he eagerly took the hand you offered him. “If I get rained on I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day.”

“We both know that’s not true, darling,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand before pulling him out the door.

—

Regulus Black:

early riser for SURE.

like he’s definitely the type to wake up in the morning and just lay there and think. and with you there, he’d be more than content to just lay with you and listen to the rain.

he strikes me as the kind of person who likes an overcast sky. the sound of rain is calming, the sight of you is calming, and he wouldn’t feel like he needed to get up or do something productive. he’d just lay there and wait till you woke up to see what you wanted to do.

he really values his alone time, but he’d also appreciate sharing that time with you sometimes. you don’t have to talk, either. silence is good sometimes, and it brings him peace.

but he’s definitely the type that wants to stay in under the covers and just have the day with you. and if the rain stopped in the next ten minutes? he doesn’t care. he’s declared it a rainy day, and you can’t change his mind.

Regulus had been up for hours by the time you woke up. He had propped himself up against his headboard, and gently moved you to where your head was resting against his stomach. He had been absentmindedly smoothing his hand over your hair when you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him.

He felt you move your head, smiling down at you. “Morning, love.”

You took a deep breath, smiling as the fresh air from the open window gently wafted in. You reached for his free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“It’s finally raining,” you mused, peering out the window before dropping your head back down against his stomach. “I’ve been waiting all week for it to rain. Looks like it’s clearing up, though.”

“Is it? Well, we’ll ignore that, won’t we? I don’t feel like moving today. I’ll move tomorrow.”

You chuckled into his skin, tracing your fingertips just under the hem of his shirt. “I assume that means I’m not moving either, am I?”

Regulus just hummed, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as you settled yourself back into him. It was quiet for a moment as you both rested, feeling each other’s chests rise and fall. Regulus felt the worries of the day quite literally blow away, allowing himself this time with you. And with how relaxed you looked in his arms, he knew you felt the same way.

“Let me know if you’re getting hungry, alright?” He asked softly just as you were beginning to drift back off. “We can go down.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you nuzzled closer to him. He smiled to himself, finally tearing his eyes away from you to look back out the window.

— A/N - Hi! I’m so sorry that some of these are a bit longer than others, I just find it easier writing for some of the boys. I have such a soft spot for Theo, and I got a little carried away. I promise to make the next one a little more even and fair. Thank you again for reading and submitting prompts, I’ll gladly take any more you have! I hope you enjoyed this :)

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys react #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #regulus black #regulus black x reader

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majinael · 9 days ago

Text

"i need a friends to lovers kaiser x reader fic with a deep focus on his trauma and his toxic coping mechanisms and he's slowly doing better thanks to the reader, healthy love with the reader heals him, and he learns what it is to be loved :((

i don't want smut i want DEEP EMOTIONAL INTIMACY !!!!!!

i swear people don't get his character like i do, my baby needs LOVE"

from @krys4h

here we go for a part 1 :3

★michael kaiser x she/her pronouns reader (can be interpreted as GN)

★3,6k words

★songs associated : one & two

I had known Michael Kaiser since the day I was assigned as the team’s nurse. In my line of work, I’d learned to connect with every player on a professional yet friendly level—it was part of treating them with care. Most of them warmed up to me quickly, eager to share stories or jokes during their treatment sessions. But Kaiser? He was something else entirely.

Rarely injured, he was almost like a ghost in my office. When I did see him, it was brief, and he would insist he didn’t need anything. His arrogance would radiate even in those fleeting moments, accompanied by a dismissive smirk that said, I’m untouchable.

During my breaks, I often watched the team train from the sidelines or walked through the gym and facilities. It was fascinating to observe them push their limits, but truthfully, I was never particularly drawn to football. It felt more like a job perk than a passion.

The first real conversation I had with Kaiser wasn’t in my office or the gym but on the field during an unplanned encounter. After sitting at my desk for hours, buried in work, I needed a breather. Wandering aimlessly, I found myself by the field. It was supposed to be empty, yet there he was, surrounded by several soccer balls lying on the damp grass.

I stopped, my curiosity piqued as I watched him shoot a goal with such precision and power that it left me speechless. The ball sliced through the air like it was destined for the net, hitting its mark flawlessly.

“Impressive,” I murmured aloud, my voice breaking the silence.

Kaiser turned, his signature cocky smile already plastered on his face as his gaze landed on me. “Of course it is,” he replied smoothly, his ego inflating visibly. But before he could bask in my compliment, I raised an eyebrow and added, “But can you actually pull that off in a real match?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and almost condescending. “I wouldn’t train something useless,” he retorted, brushing off the challenge. But then, to my surprise, he launched into an explanation of the technique. “The Kaiser Impact Magnus,” he called it, and as he spoke, his words were laced with passion and precision.

I was captivated. His knowledge and ability to articulate something so complex left me staring, wide-eyed.

“That’s... wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “You’re really smart. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it. Would you mind if I watched you play? I promise I won’t be a bother.”

He smirked, tilting his head arrogantly. “Of course, you’d want to watch. Sit still, pretty.”

For the next hour, I sat on the barrier of the field, watching him train. His movements were mesmerizing—the way his blue-tipped hair framed his sharp features, the rise and fall of his chest as he pushed himself relentlessly, the calculation in his eyes as he analyzed every play. It wasn’t just skill; it was artistry.

I couldn’t help but stare, completely unaware of the stray ball ricocheting off the goalpost and hurtling toward me until it struck me square in the face.

Pain exploded across my nose as I fell back onto the wet grass. My vision blurred, and as I tried to gather my bearings, I heard footsteps approaching.

Kaiser loomed over me, his expression torn between amusement and mild concern. “Could’ve dodged that, y’know,” he said, a faint chuckle escaping. “Really, I can’t tell if you’re lucky or unlucky. The ball usually doesn’t even come this way.”

Blinking up at him with an innocent, dazed expression, I felt a sharp sting of both pain and embarrassment. My nose throbbed relentlessly, blood trickling down onto my shirt, while specks of wet dirt clung stubbornly to my cheek. He crouched slightly, pulling a tissue from his bag nearby, and for a fleeting moment, I noticed something unusual in his eyes—an almost imperceptible softness that seemed out of place.

What was he seeing? Whatever it was, it must have stirred something unfamiliar in his chest. I remembered an interview where he mentioned his fascination with faces of despair, but I doubted that was what I wore now. No, this wasn’t despair—it was vulnerability, raw and unguarded,I looked just like a defenseless kid and it lingered between us like a secret neither of us knew how to acknowledge.

“Don’t look at me like it was intentional,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Here. Wipe that off. You look horrible.”

Taking the tissue, I stood unsteadily, trying to laugh off my humiliation. “At least I’m fully awake now,” I joked, though my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

My optimism seemed to amuse him. He smirked, returning to his training, but as droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, I lingered.

“It’s raining,” I called out, expecting him to follow me inside. When he didn’t respond, I hesitated. “Michael? Are you not coming inside? You’ll get sick. Training can wait.”

He shrugged without looking at me, the raindrops glistening in his hair. “Worry about yourself. I’m fine.”

Something about his nonchalance struck a nerve. If I were as talented, as admired, as incredible as him, wouldn’t I take better care of myself? Yet, there he was, drenched in rain, pushing himself as though he had something to prove.

I watched him for a moment longer before turning away, a strange ache settling in my chest. Back in my office, I tried to focus on work, but the sight of him—so brilliant, yet so reckless—stayed with me. It wasn’t the first time I noticed how different he was from the others, but now, for some reason, I couldn’t shake the thought.

And for the first time, I wondered what it was that drove Michael Kaiser to treat himself like he was anything less than extraordinary.

The next morning, I made my way to the cafeteria at around 9 a.m., craving a much-needed coffee. While chatting casually with the bartender, I heard familiar footsteps behind me. Turning around with my coffee in hand, I spotted Kaiser lounging on one of the couches, his attention fixed on the TV replaying football matches.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I approached him. His usual cocky posture remained intact, but something about his red-tinted nose caught my attention. Without hesitation, I plopped down beside him.

“Red nose... Is someone sick?” I teased lightly, trying to catch his attention.

His infamous grin spread across his face, almost as if it were second nature. “Mind your business,” he quipped, barely sparing me a glance.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well actually, I’m the nurse. This is my business.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He turned to me, his grin softening into something that resembled amusement. “Fair,” he conceded, “but I’m not sick. Some idiot just threw a ball at me.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because that happened to me recently too.”

His gaze narrowed, a playful glint lighting up his striking blue eyes. “Are you calling me an idiot?” he asked, leaning slightly toward me, his tone light but teasing.

The sheer audacity of the situation made me burst into laughter, while I was taking a sip—resulting in the coffee exploding spectacularly all over my white shirt and on my face.

For a moment, silence hung between us before Kaiser’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then came his reaction: “You look insanely stupid right now,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching.

“I know,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning as I avoided his stare, mortified by my rather unusual clumsiness.

His laugh was instant and unrestrained, echoing in the nearly empty cafeteria. But it wasn’t his usual mocking chuckle; no, this laugh seemed genuine. His shoulders shaking as his eyes grew watery. It was... different. And somehow, the sound pulled me in.

Caught up in the absurdity of the situation and the rare warmth of his laughter, I found myself laughing too—though not at the coffee-stained mess I’d become, but as an answer to his laugh. Seeing Michael Kaiser, of all people, like this was oddly disarming.

“I should probably clean this up,” I said awkwardly after a moment, standing up to leave.

His gaze lingered on me as I walked away. I could feel it like a weight on my back, even as I disappeared into the hallway.

Left alone, Kaiser’s attention shifted to his reflection in the darkened TV screen. For a fleeting second, he caught sight of himself wearing an unguarded, genuine smile. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“She’s an idiot,” he though.

He shook his head, refocusing on the replay, but the corners of his mouth twitched again, the thought of witnessing another one of my shenanigans lingering in his mind far longer than he cared to admit.

As the day unfolded, I buried myself in paperwork for two and a half hours before rushing to the field. He was still there.

This would become a habit—an unspoken agreement. Neither of us addressed it, but it was clear.

When I approached, his trademark smirk appeared. "Are you stalking me, or are you missing me already?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I chuckled in response, leaning casually against the barrier. Before I could come up with a clever retort, he shot a ball directly at me. I barely dodged it this time.

"Good reflexes," he said with a slow clap, clearly entertained.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I shot back, sarcasm masking the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. My heart raced, but I kept my composure.

The ball rolled to a stop behind me. I picked it up and shot it back at him with, let’s say… slightly less precision. The ball missed him completely and soared into the goal instead.

His expression was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "Lucky shot," he muttered.

I grinned triumphantly. "Skill only."

He scoffed. "Tch." And with that, he turned his back to me, resuming his drills, pretending I no longer existed.

I stood closer than usual now, watching him. "Don’t you have a water bottle?" I asked.

"Some idiot stole mine today," he grumbled. "When I find out who it is—"

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. If I were the culprit, I’d want to stay far, far away from Michael Kaiser.

Time passed, and at some point, he noticed me on the other side of the field, awkwardly mimicking his movements.

"That’s not how it’s done," he called out, exasperation lacing his tone.

He placed a ball on the ground, letting it roll for a moment before striking it with flawless precision. "Like that."

"You make it look easy," I said, walking closer to the goal. "Maybe I should try from here."

I attempted his move, but as the ball ricocheted off the goalpost and left the field I looked up at him.

"You’re terrible at this," he said, barely hiding his amusement.

"Good thing I’m not a footballer," I shot back. "But I can’t say you’re a good teacher."

His eyebrow arched. "It’s not difficult, you idiot."

"Not for the great Michael Kaiser," I teased with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes but, to my surprise, set up another ball. This time, he explained each step while executing the move.

"That wasn’t so bad was it?" I asked proudly, succeeding after his clearer explanation.

He ignored me, returning to his training with a quiet huff.

I leaned against the goalpost, watching him intently. "I wish someone had taught me how to play football too. It looks so fun when you do it."

"Too?" he asked, his tone sharp. "I learned how to play alone."

I blinked, surprised. "No way. Your parents must’ve been amazing athletes then."

That’s when everything froze. He stopped mid-step, and for a moment, even the soft drizzle seemed to halt.

A lump formed in my throat. Had I said something wrong?

Without turning to me, he replied bitterly, "No, they're not."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, driving an invisible wedge between us. I felt like I’d crossed a line I didn’t even know existed.

Instinct told me to leave, so I did—quietly, without another word.

I spent the night overthinking it all, replaying the scene in my mind. For days, I didn’t see even a shadow of him. He hadn’t left his usual spots; our timings just seemed to miss each other.

And it left me wondering: What the hell just happened?

That was until I was called onto the field during a training match. Noel Noa scolded me lightly for not being there as I usually was, but the weight of my guilt over the situation with Kaiser left me too drained to respond.

A player had injured himself, and “as usual”, he refused to seek my help. I had a small idea of who it might be.

Fate had an odd sense of humor, I thought, bringing us together in the most inconvenient ways.

As I approached him, he sat on the grass, glaring down at it as though it had personally offended him. His posture screamed irritation, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Hello, Michael,” I greeted, keeping my voice even.

No answer. Just a sharp glare in my direction, like a dagger aimed straight at my chest. I swallowed hard.

“Let me take care of you,” I offered.

“I told him I didn’t need your medical attention. What part of that does he not understand?” His tone was biting, his disdain palpable.

I sighed softly and crouched in front of him. “Michael.”

His eyes widened slightly at the sound of his name before flicking away from mine.

“Please,” I continued, my voice gentler. “At least let me take a look.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, as if granting me a favor, and muttered, “I don’t need your help.”

“But I need your well-being,” I countered, my voice cracking faintly.

“No, you don’t,” he shot back, his tone quieter this time. “I’ll be fine.”

I tilted my head, offering him a patient smile. “I doubt Noel will let you play unless you let me take a look.”

That argument seemed to hit its mark. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from his pocket. It was smeared with sticky, drying blood. Someone must have stepped on it with their cleats. My stomach churned imagining the pain it must have been.

I sat down beside him and took his injured hand gently in mine, studying the wound. “This might sting a little,” I warned as I began cleaning the blood away with alcohol and tissues.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, focused on my task.

When I glanced up, I noticed his expression had softened. It wasn’t the usual arrogance or anger I’d come to associate with him—it was something different, quieter, almost vulnerable.

I continued cleaning the wound, careful and deliberate, as though I were handling something fragile. When I finished, I held his hand for a moment longer than necessary, expecting him to snatch it back. But he didn’t.

There was something profoundly strange about his demeanor. He sat there, a paradox of composure and vulnerability, his posture steady yet his eyes betraying a depth of confusion I’d never seen before. His gaze held an unnameable expression, something I couldn’t quite decipher, as if the moment we’d just shared was far more intimate than either of us had anticipated. The silence between us was heavy, not with tension, but with the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

“Hey, Michael?” I asked softly. His head turned toward me, but he said nothing.

“Are you okay?” I added with a bright smile.

Still silence.

I stood up and rummaged through my bag. “Here,” I said, holding out a water bottle. “When Noel told me what happened, I knew it was you. I remembered you said someone stole yours last week.”

His gaze flicked between the bottle and me, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse.

So much gentleness and care all of a sudden was probably more than he could comprehend but he gently took it and looked up at me all in silence.

“I’ll tell Noel you’re good to go. If you need your bandages changed or anything else, my office is always open,” I said, standing.

As I walked away, I felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as though I’d just witnessed something rare and fleeting—a glimpse of the real Michael Kaiser, the one hidden beneath the sharp edges and icy walls.

When I returned to Noel and reported that Kaiser was ready, he called him back to the field with a simple gesture. I sat on the sidelines, watching Michael play with an attentiveness I hadn’t felt before.

To me, he wasn’t just Michael Kaiser, the arrogant genius striker. He was someone I could call a friend. A friend I was proud to have, even if he could never know.

hiiii! I am trying so so hard to keep him in character xo, I hope you like this first part, the second part is here ;) don't hesitate to give me feedback love y'all

#michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #female reader

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and have been reading a lot of it recently 🫶

I have a request, but may follow a more sensitive topic? I was wondering if you could write a fic with Idia, Cater, Rollo (twisted wonderland), or Welt, Ratio, Boothill (honkai star rail) comforting a recovering reader struggling with SH.

I can understand the denial of this request, as it can touch on a sensitive topic, but it would mean a lot to me if you considered it. I've been struggling with this for a while and it would be nice to have some comfort with recovery.

Again, I adore your work and I hope you can consider my request.

Idia, Rollo, Cater and Welt, Ratio, Boothill with a Recovering Reader

Warnings: Mentions of SH

i hope you're doing well now anon. i'm so so proud of you and i'm cheering you on in your recovery. if you wanted something different, please let me know!

it's a sensitive topic that i don't have first hand experience in, so i hope that nothing comes off as insensitive.

Idia Shroud

It had been one of those days. The weight of everything felt suffocating, and you couldn’t quite shake the heaviness that clung to your chest. The dorm felt too loud despite the silence, and yet somehow still too empty. You needed an escape—something to distract from the gnawing thoughts that tugged at the edges of your mind.

So, naturally, you found yourself at Ignihyde.

You didn’t say much when you got there. It wasn’t like you needed to. Idia was sitting at his usual setup, bathed in the glow of his multiple monitors, tapping away with his game controller. He didn’t glance up, but his fingers paused just for a second.

“You, uh, can sit over there if you want,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely to a cushion beside him. “No big deal, really. You can just… chill.”

You took the offer, sinking into the seat beside him. Idia never pressed for conversation, which you appreciated more than words could express. The quiet was comforting in a way that only he could provide. His presence wasn’t demanding, nor was it suffocating—it was just there, a steady companion when everything else felt too much.

After a few minutes of just the sounds of the game filling the air, Idia spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“I’m not, like, great at pep talks or anything.” His eyes stayed glued to the screen, a blush dusting his cheeks. “But, like, if you ever… I dunno, need a distraction or something, you can always come by. We can game or… just sit. Whatever works.”

It was such a simple offer, but the sincerity in his voice cut through the haze of your thoughts. You knew Idia wasn’t one for big gestures or emotional outbursts, but his awkward, roundabout way of offering support warmed something deep inside you. He understood—maybe more than anyone else—the desire to escape, to disappear into a world where the problems of reality couldn’t touch you.

The next few times you visited, the routine was the same. Quiet, gaming, the occasional muttered commentary from Idia. But there was something so comforting in the routine, in knowing you didn’t have to explain yourself. That he didn’t expect anything from you, just your presence.

One evening, as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, Idia hesitated, fidgeting with his controller before finally speaking.

“You’re, uh… You’re important, you know that, right? Like, I don’t have many people I’d say that to, but you’re… one of them. Just… don’t disappear, okay?”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you, and you found yourself blinking back the sting of tears. It was a simple statement, but it held the weight of his affection and worry, wrapped in the awkward delivery that was so uniquely him. You didn’t have to say anything; you knew he wasn’t expecting a response.

Instead, you just stayed. That night, in the warmth of his presence and the soft hum of the game, you felt a little less alone.

Cater Diamond

You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until you found yourself dragged into Cater’s latest selfie spree. He had a way of sneaking up on you with his usual grin and carefree energy, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as he pulled out his phone.

“Hey! How about we grab some quick pics? No filters this time, just the two of us being real.”

Normally, you’d groan, roll your eyes, and let Cater have his fun without thinking much of it. But today, the idea of being in front of a camera, of capturing yourself as you were now, felt… daunting. You hesitated, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt, your eyes downcast.

Cater, as perceptive as ever, didn’t let it slide.

He turned the camera away for a moment, his smile softening just slightly as he glanced at you. “Hey, no pressure, seriously. We don’t have to do the whole selfie thing if you’re not feeling it. I just thought… you know, we could capture some real moments.”

You glanced up at him, noticing the way his usual carefree demeanor had gentled. Cater might act like everything was all fun and games, but he was more in tune with people’s emotions than he let on. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t pushing—just offering a moment of distraction, of fun, if you wanted it.

After a long pause, you finally shrugged, offering a small smile. “Okay, one picture.”

Cater beamed, but it wasn’t his usual bright, showy grin. It was soft, genuine, like he understood what a big step this was for you.

The selfie session wasn’t as performative as you’d expected. Cater didn’t force you into poses or try to make you laugh when you weren’t in the mood. He just stood beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders, and snapped a couple of candid photos. There was something comforting in the simplicity of it, in the way he let you just be.

After a while, he pulled back and glanced at his phone, showing you one of the photos. It wasn’t perfect—your smile was a bit lopsided, your hair a little messy—but Cater grinned at it like it was the best picture he’d ever taken.

“See?” he said, his tone light. “No filters needed. You’re perfect just like this.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you found yourself blinking back tears you hadn’t realized were there. Cater, ever perceptive, noticed immediately and nudged you gently with his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be ‘camera-ready’ for me. I like you as you are, messy hair and all.”

Later that evening, when you checked your phone, you found the photos he’d sent you. Beneath one of them, he’d written: "Real friends don’t need filters. You’re more than enough, just as you are."

And for the first time in a while, you believed it.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo had always been the type to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You admired his conviction, his sense of duty, but today, as you sat beside him in the quiet of the garden, it was hard to find comfort in his seriousness.

You had come to him seeking solace, though you weren’t sure if Rollo’s stoic demeanor would offer the comfort you needed. He wasn’t one for soft words or gentle encouragement, but something about the way he watched the world with such intensity made you feel like he saw through the chaos swirling inside you.

For a long while, the two of you sat in silence, the rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the stillness. You expected Rollo to stay silent, as he often did, but after a moment, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“There’s a battle you’re fighting,” he said, not looking at you. “A battle within yourself. I understand.”

His words startled you, not because they were untrue, but because they were so unexpectedly... personal. You glanced at him, finding his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve fought similar battles,” he continued, his tone measured. “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, to believe you’re fighting alone. But you’re not. You never have to be.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and for the first time, you realized just how much you had been carrying by yourself. Rollo’s offer of support was understated, as was his way, but the sincerity behind it was impossible to ignore.

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through. But I’m here. I’ll stand with you, as long as you need.”

The weight of his promise hit you harder than you expected, and without a word, you found yourself leaning into his steady presence. He didn’t flinch or pull away—he simply let you rest, offering the quiet strength you didn’t realize you needed.

Welt

Welt’s calm demeanor had always been a source of comfort for you, but today, it felt especially grounding. After a long day of battling your inner turmoil, you found yourself seeking him out, hoping his presence could soothe the storm raging inside.

You didn’t have to say anything when you arrived. Welt, ever perceptive, seemed to understand without words. He led you to a quiet spot under the stars, his gaze gentle as he sat beside you.

“The stars have always been a reminder to me,” he said softly, looking up at the sky. “No matter how dark it gets, there’s always light somewhere. You just have to look for it.”

You followed his gaze, the twinkling lights above offering a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in days. The silence between you was comforting, not suffocating, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

Welt turned to you, his expression kind. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you’re going through, you have people who care about you. And if you ever need a reminder, just look at the stars.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made your chest ache. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that. The stars twinkled above, and you found yourself nodding, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I don’t want to burden anyone,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Welt shook his head, a gentle smile breaking across his face. “You’re never a burden. Reaching out is part of being human. We all have our battles, and sharing them makes them lighter. You have to let others in, even when it feels hard.”

You looked away, feeling the warmth of his presence wrap around you like a comforting blanket. Welt had a way of putting things into perspective, of making you feel seen without demanding anything from you. His understanding was a lifeline, a beacon guiding you through the darkness.

“What if I keep struggling?” you asked, the fear spilling out before you could hold it back.

“Then we’ll face it together,” he replied with quiet confidence. “Every time you feel lost, remember that I’m here, and so are the others. Just like the stars—sometimes hidden, but always there.”

As the cool night air wrapped around you, you leaned into Welt’s side, allowing the silence to envelop you both. You felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a little, the comfort of his unwavering presence bolstering your resolve.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you finally said, your voice steadier.

“Me too,” Welt replied, glancing up at the stars once more. “And remember, no matter how dark it gets, you are never truly alone.”

Dr. Ratio

Dr. Ratio sits across from you, his expression calm and thoughtful. He’s not the type to rush into emotional outbursts, but the concern in his gaze is unmistakable.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says quietly, voice steady. “I know the weight you’re carrying is immense, but you’re stronger than it.”

You nod, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as he continues. “One step at a time. We’ll make sense of it together. Just know—I’m here for you.”

He reaches out, his hand resting gently on yours. His grip is firm but comforting, grounding you in the moment. The logical part of him is evident in his approach—he breaks things down into manageable pieces, knowing that’s what you need right now.

“There’s no shame in struggling, and there’s no shame in asking for help. It’s okay to feel lost, but you won’t always be. Healing isn’t linear, but each day is progress.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, soothing the anxious storm swirling inside. As you lean into his comfort, he offers you a small smile, the kind that tells you things will get better, even if it doesn’t feel that way now.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out today,” he adds, his thumb gently tracing soothing patterns over your skin. “But I’ll be here, however long it takes.”

Boothill

Boothill isn’t the type to hover, but he knows when someone’s hurting—he’s been there too many times himself. His heavy boots clunk against the floor as he approaches you, sitting down beside you in a quiet, solid presence.

“Life’s got a way of takin' pieces outta you,” he says, voice gravelly. “But you don’t gotta do this alone, partner.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond, but Boothill doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. It’s a gesture so simple, yet so grounding. You can feel his steady heartbeat, his unwavering support.

“You’re tougher than you think,” he continues, his voice softer now, “but even the toughest folks need a hand sometimes. Ain’t no shame in leanin’ on someone.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself lean on him, just a little. Boothill’s grip tightens ever so slightly, and he lets out a quiet sigh, as if holding the weight of the world alongside you.

“We’ll get through this, partner,” he murmurs, “one step at a time.”

Boothill isn’t one for long speeches, but the sincerity in his voice is more than enough. You feel the warmth of his presence, the understanding in his quiet demeanor, and for a moment, the weight you’ve been carrying doesn’t feel so heavy.

And with that, you know you’re not alone.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #welt x reader #boothill x reader #dr ratio x reader #ratio x reader #tw: sh mention

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simplygojo · 5 months ago

Text

What Was I Made For?

author's note ⸺ Soooo I am not sure where your request went in my inbox...but this one is for you @maryhyun254!! I lovedddd this request. Thank you so much for submitting my friend!!

P.s. I did have to play “What Was I Made For” twice while reading the fic, so maybe put the song on repeat while reading too (for the vibes).

pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader

word count ⸺ 2.1k

warnings ⸺ existential dread, self worth issues, reader uses female pronouns

The silence of the night felt suffocating, blanketing the Jujutsu High grounds in an eerie stillness that you could never quite get used to. No matter how many nights you spent here, the emptiness always pressed in on you, threatening to crush the air from your lungs. You found yourself wandering again, your thoughts heavy, your steps aimless.

You didn’t know why you felt this way—so out of place, so lost. Lately, it seemed as though nothing made sense. Every mission blurred together, each day folding into the next until all you had left was this hollow feeling in your chest. You couldn’t shake it, couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it clung to you like a shadow.

You reached the courtyard, your feet stopping of their own accord. The cool breeze bit at your skin, but you welcomed the discomfort—it reminded you that you were still here, still alive. But for what?

What was I made for?

The thought had been gnawing at you for days, echoing in your mind like a haunting song. You had been taught that as a sorcerer, you had a purpose. To protect, to fight, to uphold balance. But somewhere along the way, you had forgotten why any of it mattered.

You slumped down onto a stone bench, elbows resting on your knees as you stared at the ground. You didn’t even notice the familiar presence approaching until you felt his gaze on you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold sitting out here like that.”

Gojo’s voice was light, teasing as always, but you could hear the undercurrent of something deeper. He wasn’t here by coincidence.

You didn’t bother looking up, your voice low, defeated. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” His tone softened, and suddenly he was there beside you, sitting so close that his arm brushed yours. For a man who could always command a room, Gojo had a strange ability to slip into these moments as if he belonged there, no questions asked.

You shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting his gaze. “Why are you here?”

Gojo tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Something’s up.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Distant? No. I’ve just been… trying to figure out why I’m even here.”

There it was. The truth. The question that had been eating away at you for days, weeks, maybe longer. You weren’t like him—like Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. The one who always seemed so sure of himself, so certain of his purpose. You were just you, and lately, that didn’t seem to be enough.

Gojo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, gazing up at the night sky as if contemplating your words. You could feel the weight of his silence, pressing against you, urging you to continue.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel… empty.”

Gojo shifted beside you, turning his head to look at you fully. “You think I don’t feel that way too?”

You blinked, finally glancing up at him. His eyes, though hidden behind those familiar dark sunglasses, seemed to burn with a quiet intensity. “What do you mean?”

He let out a soft sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring your posture. “Being the strongest… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re Gojo Satoru. You don’t get to complain about being the strongest.”

Gojo chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “That’s where you’re wrong, y/n. You think being the strongest means I don’t feel lost? Like I don’t question why I was given this power? I ask myself every damn day.”

His words hung in the air between you, sinking into your skin, wrapping around your heart. You hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not from the man who seemed invincible, untouchable.

“Then why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Gojo turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Because there’s more to it than just being strong. It’s about what you do with it. Who you protect, who you fight for. That’s what keeps me going.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in ways you weren’t prepared for. Protecting. Fighting for someone. It sounded so simple when he said it, but for you, it felt unreachable, like a distant dream you could never quite touch.

“But I don’t know what I’m made for,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, his fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand. The contact was brief, almost fleeting, but it sent a shiver through you. “You don’t need to be like me. You don’t have to be the strongest to matter.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his for any hint of deception, but all you found was sincerity. It was rare to see Gojo like this—unguarded, open. Vulnerable, even. It made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

“But what if I can’t do it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not enough?”

Gojo’s hand slipped fully into yours then, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the moment. “You are enough, y/n. You’re here. That’s enough.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart clench, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the weight of everything finally catching up to you, or if it was just Gojo—the way he always seemed to know what you needed to hear, even when you didn’t know yourself.

You swallowed thickly, your gaze dropping to where your hands were intertwined. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”

Gojo’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gentle reassurance. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Or tomorrow. Just… let yourself feel. Whatever it is.”

The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, and you hated how vulnerable you felt in front of him. But Gojo didn’t pull away, but instead, he held you tighter, his hand warm against yours, grounding you in the quiet comfort of his presence. The tears fell freely now, and you couldn’t stop them, even if you wanted to. All the doubts, the fears, and the weight of your own self-worth came crashing down, and for once, you let it happen. You let yourself break.

Gojo didn’t say anything, didn’t offer platitudes or try to fix you. He just sat there, silent and steady, his hand never leaving yours. It was enough. His presence was enough.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs finally subsided, leaving you feeling lighter, though raw and exposed. You wiped at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling as you tried to collect yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Gojo interrupted softly, his voice unusually gentle. “You’re allowed to feel this way. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you realized, his bright eyes locked onto yours, no longer hidden behind his sunglasses. The way he looked at you—so open, so real—made your breath catch in your throat.

Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Do you ever feel like you weren’t made for this? Like… maybe you weren’t meant to be a sorcerer?”

Gojo let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting to the night sky for a moment before returning to you. “Every day. There’s always this pressure to live up to something, to be someone… but no one ever tells you what happens when you don’t know what that ‘something’ is.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Gojo—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one everyone looked up to, relied on—felt that way too? It was almost too much to believe. But as he spoke, there was no trace of his usual teasing tone, no cocky smirk. It was just him, raw and honest in a way you rarely saw.

You leaned in a little, your forehead almost brushing his shoulder as you stared at the ground. “Then why do we keep going?”

Gojo’s hand tightened around yours, and when he spoke, his voice was low, serious. “Because none of us were made for anything, y/n. It’s the path we make that matters. We choose who we become, what we fight for. The rest… it’s just noise.”

His words seemed to reverberate in the stillness, sinking into your heart and filling the empty spaces. You swallowed hard, his gaze now fixed solely on you. The vulnerability in his voice, the quiet strength behind his words—it was all so different from the Gojo you thought you knew.

Without thinking, you shifted closer to him, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body, his breath on your skin. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, then back to his eyes. The air between you was charged with something you couldn’t name, something that made your heart race.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t wait for you to finish. In one smooth, deliberate movement, his hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His touch was soft, reassuring, but there was an urgency to the way his eyes searched yours, as if he were asking for permission. And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The world around you seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving only the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way his hand cradled your face like you were something precious, something worth holding onto. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t about desire or passion. It was about understanding—an answer to all the doubts and fears you had shared tonight.

You kissed him back, your free hand instinctively reaching up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He responded with a soft sigh against your lips, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss just slightly. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but there was an undeniable intensity to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to tell you something without words.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. You stayed like that for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

His voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and unguarded, that made your chest tighten. You had never seen him like this before—so real, so human.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession.

Gojo’s hand moved from your face to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Me too,” he said softly. “But being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re alive. And you’re not alone in this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from relief—from the quiet comfort of knowing that even in your uncertainty, even in your fear, Gojo was there with you. That maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to have all the answers.

“You’re not alone,” he repeated, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

Gojo’s lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more certain. It was a promise, a reassurance that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all of your doubts, your fears, and your hope into it.

When he pulled away again, his eyes locked onto yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Step by step.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as the warmth of the night wrapped around the two of you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the question that had been haunting you—what was I made for?—didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Because maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about being made for something.

Maybe it was about choosing your own path. Maybe it always has been...

author's note II ⸺ THIS IS VERY POORLY EDITED, PLEASE FORGIVE ME ILY THANKS FOR READING <3

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cas-kingdom · 11 months ago

Text

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

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bangchansdirty-slut · 6 months ago

Note

🍊hi I'm the one who requested the jay fic

First it was so good(I've read several of your fics so I'm not surprised)

I was thinking of a park 2 were sunghoon is the cold member of the friend group and finds out about jay and m/n but thinks jay bottoms and follows m/n after school cause he is secretly curious about bottoming

(Also I'm nervous to ask this but do you write for ni-ki cause I had a cute story in mind w/ no smut cause I know some people who get really heated about this)

Ps it's OK if you don't I just thought it would be OK to ask cause you seem chill and not likely to go ballistic on me(it's happening before so it give me anxiety)

Our Secret Part .2

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Jock!Jay x Switch!Nerd!Male reader x Bttm!Jock!Sunghoon

Genre: smut

Requested

Pt.1

More: Masterlist

A/n: Thank you all for the requests. I'm currently working on them, so I don't know when my next post will be, but stay tuned. Requests are still open. Also, I write for all the members of Enhypen. Also, I hope this is what you requested and I did it well.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"You're going to be late for your math test, Jay," Sunghoon called out as Jay lingered by the lockers, his eyes glued to M/n's retreating figure.

Jay nodded absently, his mind still swirling with the memories of their last secret encounter. "Yeah, I know," he murmured, pushing off from the locker and heading towards his class. He couldn't shake the feeling that Sunghoon had noticed something different about him, but he brushed it off. He had always been the quiet, stoic one of the group—his friends wouldn't suspect a thing.

As the days passed, Jay and M/n's secret grew stronger, fueled by the stolen moments in the bathroom and the risky glances they shared in the hallways. Each meeting was a clandestine dance of desire, the thrill of discovery heightened by the fear of exposure. Jay felt alive in a way he never had before, the excitement of their secret trysts overshadowing the mundane routine of school and the increasingly dull camaraderie of the ENHYPEN.

One noon, as the bell rang and the hallways filled, Sunghoon lingered, his eyes narrowed as he watched M/n slip into the bathroom. His curiosity piqued, he waited, his thoughts racing. He knew Jay had been acting differently, and the whispers of their secret had reached his ears. He couldn't help but feel a strange mix of jealousy and fascination—Jay, the golden boy of the group, breaking their unspoken code of heteronormativity. Sunghoon found himself drawn to the bathroom door, his heart pounding in his chest.

As the minutes ticked by, he heard the faint sound of the lock turning. He waited, his breath held, until the door opened a crack. Jay stepped out, his face flushed, and their eyes met. For a split second, Jay's expression was one of pure terror, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk. "What's up, Sunghoon?" he said casually, as if he hadn't just been caught in a compromising situation.

Sunghoon felt his own face heat up, unsure of what to say. He'd never been one for confrontation, preferring to keep his thoughts and feelings buried beneath a layer of stoicism. But something about the situation, the raw passion he'd glimpsed, had shaken him to his core. "I need to talk to you," he said, his voice firm.

Jay raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Can it wait until after school?"

Sunghoon's curiosity won out over his nerves. "No, it can't."

Jay sighed, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. "Fine." He led the way to an empty classroom, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Once the door was closed, Jay turned to face Sunghoon, his expression unreadable.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. "What's going on with you and M/n?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his stomach.

Jay leaned against the desk, his eyes never leaving Sunghoon's. "What makes you think anything's going on?"

Sunghoon's voice was low, almost a growl. "Don't lie to me, Jay. I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you touched him in the bathroom."

Jay's smirk fell away, and he took a step closer to Sunghoon, his eyes searching for any sign of judgment or disgust. "It's not like that," he said softly. "I just… I can't explain it."

Sunghoon's gaze never wavered. "You don't have to. But if you're going to keep this up, you need to be careful. The others can't find out."

Jay nodded, his throat tight. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Sunghoon studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "But why M/n?" His voice was filled with confusion and a hint of accusation. "You could have anyone you want."

Jay looked away, his eyes misting over. "It's not about who I can have. It's about who I want. And…who makes me feel alive." He took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And it's not just about me. It's about you too, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Jay took a step closer, his voice barely audible. "I know you've been watching us. And I know you've been…curious." He paused, watching Sunghoon's reaction closely. "You've always been so closed off, but I've seen the way you look at M/n when you think no one's watching. The way your eyes follow him, the way you get all tense when we talk about him."

Sunghoon's face grew hot, his heart racing. He hadn't realized his feelings were so transparent. "What are you saying?" he managed to choke out.

Jay stepped even closer, his voice a gentle murmur. "I'm saying that maybe you're not as straight as you think you are." He reached out and placed a hand on Sunghoon's arm, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through Sunghoon's body. "And if you ever want to explore that…I could help you."

Sunghoon's mind raced. He had never considered the possibility that his curiosity about M/n went beyond mere fascination. The idea of Jay guiding him through this uncharted territory was both terrifying and intriguing. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Jay's hand on his arm, then back up to meet his gaze. "What are you proposing?"

Jay's eyes searched Sunghoon's, looking for any sign of rejection. "I'm saying that we could all learn from each other, you know? M/n and I, we've got this… connection. And maybe you could find something like that too." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "I know you're curious about bottoming. I can see it in the way you watch us."

Sunghoon felt his cheeks flush, his eyes darting away from Jay's intense gaze. "How did you…?"

Jay gave a knowing smile. "It's not that hard to see, Sunghoon. And I've been there. I know what it's like to have those thoughts, to wonder." He took a step closer, invading Sunghoon's personal space. "But you don't have to wonder anymore. You can experience it."

Sunghoon's breath hitched, his eyes locked on Jay's. "How?" he whispered, the word barely audible.

Jay's smile grew, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "Well, we could start with you watching us. Or, if you're ready, we could try something with you." He leaned in, his breath hot against Sunghoon's ear. "I'd be gentle, I promise."

Sunghoon's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of excitement and fear. He had never allowed himself to act on his curiosity, always pushing it down, telling himself it was just a phase. But Jay's words resonated with him, whispering the promise of a freedom he had never dared to dream of.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice shaky. "I'll join."

Jay's eyes lit up with excitement, and he gave Sunghoon's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Good," he said, his voice filled with a gentle confidence. "Meet us in the bathroom after school. We'll make sure it's empty."

The rest of the day was a blur for Sunghoon. He couldn't focus on his classes, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. He found himself glancing at Jay and M/n during lessons, his imagination running wild with what the two of them had been doing together. The anticipation was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his entire world was about to change.

When the final bell rang, Sunghoon's stomach twisted into knots. He gathered his books, his legs feeling like jelly as he made his way to the designated bathroom. He checked his watch, ensuring that the coast was clear, and slipped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. The tiles were cold under his feet, echoing his nervousness as he approached the last stall.

The door was slightly ajar, and he could see Jay's shoes peeking out. He took a deep breath and knocked lightly. "It's just me," he murmured. The door swung open, and Jay's warm smile was the first thing he saw. M/n was there too, looking equally nervous but with an unmistakable spark of excitement in his eyes.

Jay stepped aside to let Sunghoon in, his hand lingering on the small of his back. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes flicking to M/n, who gave him a tentative smile. "I… I think so."

Jay's hand slipped away, and M/n took its place, his touch feather-light. "We'll go slow," he promised, his voice soothing. "You can tell us to stop anytime."

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes darting between the two of them. Jay's gaze was filled with understanding, while M/n's was a mix of excitement and apprehension. They both knew the risks involved in what they were about to do, but the allure of the unknown was too tempting to resist.

M/n reached out and took Sunghoon's hand, leading him into the stall. The space was tight, but the three of them managed to fit, their bodies pressing against each other in a way that was both awkward and thrilling. Jay leaned against the wall, watching as M/n began to undo Sunghoon's pants. "Relax," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Sunghoon's.

M/n's hands were gentle as he pulled Sunghoon's cock free, his thumb tracing the vein that pulsed with desire. Sunghoon's eyes closed, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt M/n's warm breath against his skin. Jay's own erection was clear, pressing against the fabric of his jeans as he watched the scene unfold.

M/n took Sunghoon in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip before taking him in deeper. Sunghoon's breath hitched, his knees threatening to buckle. He'd never felt anything like this before—the wet heat, the suction, the way M/n's eyes never left his own. It was like he was being claimed, and he couldn't get enough.

Jay stepped closer, his hand sliding around to cup Sunghoon's ass, pulling him closer to M/n's eager mouth. "Look at him," Jay whispered, his voice thick with lust. "You're doing so good."

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open, meeting Jay's intense gaze. He felt exposed, but also protected, like he was part of something intimate and beautiful. Jay's hand began to move in slow, firm circles, massaging the tension from his muscles as M/n continued to suck him off. It was a sensation like no other, and Sunghoon found himself letting go of his inhibitions.

Jay leaned in and kissed Sunghoon, his tongue probing the depths of his mouth as M/n's tongue swirled around his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that had Sunghoon's toes curling in his shoes. He felt Jay's hand move down to join M/n's, the two of them working in tandem to bring him closer to the edge.

The kiss grew more passionate, Jay's hand gripping Sunghoon's ass tighter as M/n's pace increased. Sunghoon's hips began to move, his body taking over as he lost himself in the moment.

M/n's eyes flicked up to meet Sunghoon's, a silent question in his gaze. Sunghoon nodded, his eyes glazed with desire, and M/n took that as his cue to push him over the edge. He sucked harder, his hand moving in time with his mouth, until Sunghoon was panting and trembling, his release spilling out into M/n's eager mouth.

M/n pulled away, a smear of cum on his lips, and looked up at Sunghoon with a smug satisfaction. Jay stepped back, giving them space as M/n turned to face the newcomer. With a swift movement, M/n pulled his own pants down, exposing his already hard cock. He bent over, his asshole puckering slightly, and reached back to spread his cheeks. "I want you inside me," he murmured, his voice filled with a need that was impossible to ignore.

Sunghoon's eyes widened, his own cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He stepped closer, his hands shaking slightly as he positioned himself behind M/n. Jay watched, his own erection straining against his boxers, as Sunghoon tentatively pushed the tip of his cock into M/n's waiting hole. M/n's breath hitched, his body tensing before he began to relax, allowing Sunghoon to slide in deeper.

Jay's eyes darkened with need as he stepped behind Sunghoon, his own erection demanding attention. He quickly shimmied out of his pants and boxers, revealing his hardened length. Without a word, he pushed into Sunghoon, who gasped at the sudden intrusion. Sunghoon's cock was still semi-hard, and the sensation of Jay's thickness entering him was a shock. But as Jay began to move, Sunghoon felt his body respond, his cock swelling back to life as he pushed into M/n.

The two of them started to move in sync, creating a rhythm that was both erotic and slightly uncomfortable in the cramped stall. Sunghoon's hands gripped the divider for support as Jay's hips slapped against his ass, driving him deeper into M/n. The sound of their muffled moans filled the small space, mixing with the rustle of clothing and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

M/n's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Sunghoon's cock push into him, filling him in a way he hadn't experienced before. The mix of pleasure and pain was exhilarating, and he couldn't help but push back, urging Sunghoon to go deeper. Jay watched, his own desire building as he saw M/n's body react to the new sensation. He knew exactly what M/n needed, and he was eager to give it to him.

With each thrust, Sunghoon felt himself growing more accustomed to the sensation of being the one in control, the one to give pleasure. His own cock was hardening again, and he couldn't deny the excitement of having Jay's thick length inside him as he claimed M/n. The feeling was strange, but not unwelcome. It was like he was discovering a new part of himself, a part that was just as hungry for connection as the rest of him.

M/n's moans grew louder, his body shuddering with each powerful push. He reached back and grabbed onto Sunghoon's hips, pulling him closer, urging him to go harder. Sunghoon's hand found its way to M/n's cock, stroking him in time with their movements. The three of them were lost in the moment, their bodies moving together like they were made for this.

Sunghoon's grip tightened on the divider as Jay's pace grew more insistent. He could feel Jay's cock pounding into his ass, and the friction was driving him wild. He pushed into M/n with renewed vigor, his own climax building. M/n's cries grew more desperate, and Sunghoon knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, M/n came, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Sunghoon felt the warmth of M/n's release spill over his hand, and the sight of M/n's face, contorted with pleasure, was almost too much for him to handle. He came, his own cock pulsing inside M/n, filling him up as he buried his face in the crook of M/n's neck, biting down to muffle his own cries.

Jay watched, his own climax approaching rapidly. Cumming inside Sunghoon was an intoxicating thought, but he held back, wanting to savor the moment. He leaned in and whispered into Sunghoon's ear, "You're doing so good, baby." His voice was thick with lust, his breath hot against Sunghoon's skin.

Sunghoon's eyes met Jay's, and he felt a rush of emotion. He had never felt so wanted, so desired. He pushed back into Jay one last time, and Jay's cock slammed into his prostate, sending him over the edge. Jay groaned, his own orgasm ripping through him as he filled Sunghoon with his cum.

The three of them stood there, panting and trembling, their bodies still connected. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. They were a tangle of limbs and desire, a secret no one else knew about.

M/n pulled away, panting heavily, his body spent and trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Jay followed suit, his cock slipping out of Sunghoon with a wet pop. They both stepped back, giving Sunghoon a moment to process what had just happened. He looked between them, his eyes glazed with a mix of confusion and exhilaration.

"Was it good?" Jay asked, his voice hoarse from his own recent release. Sunghoon nodded, his cheeks still flushed. "It was… intense," he managed to say, his voice shaking slightly.

M/n straightened up, his own pants back in place, and handed Sunghoon a wad of toilet paper. "You did great," he said with a gentle smile, the air between them thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

Sunghoon took it, his hand shaking as he cleaned himself up. He couldn't believe what he had just done, but there was no denying the satisfaction that hummed through his body. He looked up at Jay and M/n, their expressions a mix of pleasure and anticipation. "I… I liked it," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jay stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Sunghoon's waist. "I knew you would," he said with a wink. "But remember, this stays between us."

#bangchansdirty-slut #sunghoon x male reader #jay x male reader #park sunghoon x male reader #jay park x male reader #enhypen x male reader #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

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atzfilm · 7 months ago

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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [eight.]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

— pairing; ot8/reader (mingi/f.reader & hongjoong/f.reader focused); 7.1k

— chapter warnings; death, death mentions, murder mentions, slightly gory

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

Chapter 8:

The heat is all consuming.

Your moist grip struggles against the metal chains digging into your skin, slipping as you attempt to get a firm grasp. The dried blood isn’t exactly helping you, chipping off each time you attempt to pull. You can feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you. He hasn’t stopped telling you that it’s nearly impossible for someone of your strength to break it, but you cannot help but try. You can’t let yourself succumb to whatever those creatures are planning to do to you.

“Solaris, you’ll exhaust yourself.”

You shake your head, hitting the metal against the floor. It does not make even the slightest dent, rattling. “We’re not going to die here, Wooyoung.”

“We will if someone catches you trying to escape,” he breathes, lids heavy. “Just sleep for a bit, I’ll throw something at you to wake you up if someone comes.” You look around the two of you, the cell completely empty. Not even a single rock decorates the floor. His chuckle is strained as he observes the confused look on your face. “Joking.”

You let go, attempt in vain. Your gaze roams over Wooyoung instead; body completely covered in tightened rope, feet outstretched but bound to metal hoops welded into the floor, arms lifted above him, fingers spread with smaller hoops keeping them from moving. Likely bound so tightly he is unable to even flick a finger. It is as if they have molded him into the wall, only his head free.

“You’ve never looked at me with such worry,” he notes. “Perhaps I should find myself on the brink of death often.”

“Did they hurt you?” You ask, though the answer is obvious.

They hit a blunt object against your temple as you entered the cell, Wooyoung already trapped when you arrived. His head was limp, hanging forward. Though now he is speaking, you can see the wounds on his body, clothing wrinkled and torn. The creatures barely touched you. Your fabric is slightly ripped, but it is meager in comparison to him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says simply, avoiding the question entirely. You lean yourself back against the wall, desperate to push the thoughts of San from your mind. You have seen too much death since knowing them. Seeing one of them die, though, that was the last thing you ever expected. Your own chest aches with the loss. You could only fathom how Wooyoung has fared.

“It didn’t look too painful, right?”

“Hm?” You look at him.

“San. It didn’t look painful when he died, did it? Do you think it hurt badly?”

You press your lips together. He looks exhausted, but his eyes never leave yours, flicking down to the movement of your lips. Swearing soon follows, head shaking softly. “He didn’t deserve it. He cared so much, so so much. All he wanted was to belong, to care for us. But we let him down.”

He closes his eyes. “I could feel it. His soul being ripped from mine. It felt like someone dug a dagger into my chest and pulled out each rib. It was so painful, I could only imagine what it felt like for him.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “I never saw San cry before.”

“I'm sorry,” you say softly. That's all you can say. Seeing someone you love so violently gone - You could barely hold back your own tears as he died below you.

He hums, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “Can't wait to kick his ass when I see him again. He promised he wouldn't die before me,” Wooyoung huffs, shutting his eyes. “They never explained how much it would hurt.”

You're unable to respond, comforting words lost. If you could at least hold his hand you would, but your restraints prevent it. All you can offer is silence.

“He did like you. Had an odd way of showing it, but he did. He talked about you while we were alone when you were gone. Sure, most of it was scolding and jabs, but he only does that with people he cares about. Did, that.”

Wooyoung’s head lifts, lips tight.

You follow his gaze, eyes widening as your head tilts up.

“Shouldn't a creature of Lilith be in the pits of hell torturing wretched souls?” Wooyoung spits, face distorting into disgust. “You decide to waste your time on the two of us instead?”

The creature's mouth opens, a foul smell scorching the air. “A burden that Lilith brought to me. Your bodies should have been disposed of long ago.” Its bulbous eyes shift to you. “Especially one of her kind.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses between breaths. A violent crack echoes through the air as you try twisting around the creature to see. Your heartbeat rattles against your eardrums, panic settling in. He can’t die, he can’t.

The creature stares down at you, his hand wrapping around your neck. It’s large enough to cover your mouth as well, strained breaths through the wrinkled skin that holds you captive. If you could tell Wooyoung to stop talking you would, but the hand seems to melt your lips shut as it snarls down at you, the tugging of your hands doing nothing to help. The touch her you die moment isn’t really one you’d prefer being in - the creature could easily snap your neck.

“Shit,” Wooyoung curses. There’s a bit of space between the creature's shoulder and head for you to follow the noise. Wooyoung struggles to pull against the metal, blood dripping down his restraints as he grunts. “You’re messing with a kumiho, you worthless cun-”

The metal prison door flies across the room, bending against the concrete walls. The creature turns around, but it is not quick enough. Its hand is violently pulled off of you, thrown against the same wall. You squint through the action, trying to catch who exactly has entered.

“Mingi?” Wooyoung says loudly.

Mingi shifts in and out of existence, wings tendons strained as he attacks the creature. The sounds are disgusting, flesh torn, bones cracking. Mingi’s thrown to the ground near you, covered in a blackened substance. His eyes shine, iridescent. His fingers sink into your flesh, and you gasp. He glances back at you briefly, an apologetic look in his eyes as he shields you from the onslaught. He grunts as his back is beaten. The sound of tearing skin is not unfamiliar to you. You cannot do anything but stare, this time completely defenseless with your hands tied. A brief reprieve in the attack allows him to move swiftly, his grasp on you gone. You see his hand sink into the creature before anything else. Darkened crimson coats his fingers as he pulls it back. He grunts, his free hand twisting into paws, sharp tendons cracking in the air. He grips the creature by its neck, tossing it through the open doorway. He glances between Wooyoung and yourself, running over to Wooyoung first. Mingi hisses when his hand touches the metal.

“Foxglove.”

“Why’d you think I've been stuck in here so long,” Wooyoung murmurs.

Mingi rolls his eyes, closing his eyes as he whispers a cantation. The strange glow to the metal seemingly dissipates. He pulls on the welded metal against the wall, ripping out chunks of the surface before doing the other.

“I didn’t need saving,” Wooyoung tugs on the bolts, relief spreading across his face once they drop from the wall. His bones crack as his once shapeshifted arm goes back to normal, fingers outstretched as he sighs. He takes a slow breath, before looking at the two of you. “Oh sh-t, your wings, Mingi.”

You can hear the dripping of blood as Wooyoung points it out.

“It’s nothing. Looks to me like you did need me,” Mingi crouches next to you, glancing over your restraints. He pauses as he touches it, a distressed look passing over his face. You expected him to flinch back as he did with Wooyoung’s, but his fingers wrap around it easily.

No foxglove.

“Mingi-”

“It’s fine, Wooyoung,” his tone seems final. Wooyoung stares at him before sighing.

“Hongjoong didn’t come?” Wooyoung’s voice is soft as Mingi grips the metal and rips it from confining you. He shakes his head slowly, hand brushes against the metal burns on your wrist. You wince at his touch, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking back at Wooyoung.

“He’s been preoccupied as of late,” Mingi holds out a hand and you grasp it, steadying yourself on two feet. “But he informed us of your location. You can further discuss it with him when we arrive back. Can you create a path? The energy in here should suffice.”

“But…”

“They’ll find us if you delay any longer, Wooyoung.”

A grumble leaves Wooyoung’s lips but he nods anyway, quick whispers spilling from his tight expression. The air tightens then expands, a gust of wind nearly unbalancing your already unstable stance. Mingi grips your forearm, eyes flicking down to your lips before moving back to your gaze. The last time you were pulled through, San kissed you. It’s likely not too different now. Mingi opens his mouth to speak but Wooyoung interrupts, pushing himself between the two of you. Mingi’s grip on you is gone, gaze wandering for a moment before he enters the pathway, leaving the two of you alone. You only catch the gruesome look of his backside briefly before he’s gone.

“Ready?” Wooyoung asks, and you nod. His lips press against yours, and you’re pulled into the portal.

—

He’s pulled from you right when you leave the portal. A groan and laugh echoing around the house as he’s pulled into someone’s arms. Yunho’s grip is tight as he holds him, his body trembling. Teasing leaves his face as he sighs, pulling him closer. It is intimate enough that you look away, watching as the others greet him coming back. You feel odd, their attachment to one another something you yearn for. You spot Jongho amongst the spark, a relieved look on his face as he studies you. A pitiful part of you expects for him to walk over and embrace you but he does the opposite, leaving the room entirely. Everyone is occupied enough that you decide to walk around the others, making your way to your room.

You feel his gaze before you see it, eyes flicking down the long hallway. Seonghwa stands there, arms crossed against his chest. He barely glances at you but you can see how his gaze lingers on your wounds, lips tight and jaw strained. Once you blink he is gone. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth, your hand wrapping around the brass knob before pushing your door open.

Exhaustion swarms your body once you enter your room, slumping against the wooden floors, narrowly missing a wide crack. The chaos that was once in your room is now gone, the blood coating the floors nowhere to be found, wooden boards put back in their place. The only evidence of there being any sort of fight lies in the hole in the wall, wood piled beneath it. Likely to board it up temporarily. It looks like no one has gotten the chance to do much - nails and bolts piled along with it. It was likely Yunho or Jongho who cleaned up your room enough for it to be livable - you remind yourself to thank them at some point in the future. Once things have settled a bit.

The stench of sweat and blood still simmers in the area, nose wrinkling. Your eyes move over to your doorway, the final moments of San with you spreading across your mind. His death is not forgotten. A few painful swallows of spit later, you shakingly crawl to your bathroom, shutting the door behind you. The weight of the past few events almost cripples you, your eyes shut as you struggle to hold back your tears.

You’re not sure how much more you can handle. The isolation is getting to you - you used to have Soobin to grieve with. And if it weren’t him, it was your mother, your family. They kept you from spiraling, from sinking further and further into yourself. But you have no one. You look at the reflection of yourself. The bruises on your neck are darkening, deepening the longer you stare at yourself. The urge to call your mother vanishes the longer you stare at the mirror. Subjecting her to the possibility of this happening - you gag at the mere thought. You don’t want to involve anyone else. No one you care about.

It is a strange feeling, the amount of people in this home should be suffocating. And yet, you just feel so lonely.

—

The bowl beneath you distorts. Your vision blurs as you stare, fading in and out of focus. You can hear the birds chirp as they glide through the thickened forest in front of you. You look up, a chill brushing against the raised bumps of your arms.

No one has told you why Wooyoung and yourself were taken. The others have been busy. Hongjoong has not left his room, preoccupied. The horrid look in Mingi's eyes when he pulled you from your cell still haunts you. It was almost soul crushing as his nails dug into your flesh, the wounds are wrapped in gauze still.

Chopsticks slide through your lips, grains of rice mush. You haven’t the energy in you to protest as Seonghwa slid it to you, disappearing before you could thank him. The fear of hatred in his eyes stops you from ever meeting his gaze. He warned them all of what you being here would do. Of what was to come. The two of you haven’t discussed it amongst yourselves but you can feel the blame being spat at you whenever you are in the same room. Enough so that you promptly leave before a word gets out.

No one has really spoken to you since you came back. Even Jongho could barely muster a greeting, words murmured as he left you alone. All you’ve felt is alienation. Leaving was at some point an option, but now, after everything that has happened, it’s the last thing on your mind. San’s sacrifice would have been for nothing if you waltzed out of this home and into death a town away.

It makes sense why you’ve been left alone. It just doesn’t make the feeling go away knowing that.

You force the last scoop of rice into your mouth, swallowing dryly as you stand. The eerie sound of the hallways greets you as you enter, your steps swift and sure.

You walk past Yeosang’s room. The others’ words ring true – it is shut, not a breath of sound escaping through the thin cracks around the door. You'd never attempt to open it. You grieved on your own even though San only began caring for you at the very end. Yeosang and San though, they were attached. Every room you walked in they were always in deep conversation, lightened with laughter. Yeosang's annoyed expression was often softened by the warm look in his eyes when they spent time together. They are all mates but there was just something special between the two. Something you noticed with Yunho and Mingi, Wooyoung and Hongjoong. A bond unlike any other. Your gaze lingers only for another second before you leave, hands wrapped around the rim of the bowl. Wooyoung hasn't left his room either, not even to mess with you, which was fine.

You just can't get used to the silent hallways.

The kitchen is thankfully empty. You waste no time scrubbing the bowl, praying that no one enters while you are alone.

A low groan as you place the bowl in the cabinet fills the silence. You turn, almost stumbling back at the sight.

A blue tint coats his fingertips as he grips the counter. You're unmoving, staring at the carcass of what he once was. A groan escapes blackened lips as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees. His fingers let go of the counter, instead gripping his grayed hair. You can see himself in him if you ignore the obvious signs of decay. His clothing is what he wore that night, stained with his blood and yours. You dare not squint to see if the hole is still in his body, stomach twisting.

“He is still not alive, not fully.”

It's no surprise that Hongjoong follows, his eyes trained on San's crumbled body. There's a strange gleam in his eyes as he watches him. As if he's proud of what he turned his dead mate into. You cannot see anything in San but horror. He oddly does not smell like death, but you dare not get closer to see if he… it… does.

“Do the others know?”

His gaze meets yours. “I wouldn't give their hopes up for something like this. He may turn up dead again.”

“Hongjoong…”

“He is quite marvelous, isn’t he?” Hongjoong’s hands brush his hair tenderly, warmth in his gaze. “He is not himself, but he will be soon. If it all works, this would help the others see reason. They won’t be as upset anymore. We all can be happy again.”

“This, that isn't San. San is dead–”

Fingers wrap around your neck before you can utter another word. His eyes are solid white as he tightens his grip, jaw clenched. You gasp for air, fingers clawing at his hand, desperate for him to let go. Your bruises throb against his fingers. He only tightens before loosening. You suck in a long breath, cupping your neck as you try to regain your sense of self. He seems to catch himself as he rests his eyes on yours.

“San is alive. Not fully but he will be. He must be,” Hongjoong looks back at him. “I'm taking him to your town. He is still a Seelie, unfortunately. He will need their positivity to gain enough strength to live again. I would have forfeited your life, but you reek of pessimism. Delicious for me, but repulsive for him.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

“You aren't going to kill them, are you? The townspeople?”

Hongjoong laughs. You see his arm raise but your momentum isn't enough to stop his touch. He holds your chin between his fingers. “What do you want from me, girl? You hope for reassurance, for something other than this, than us?” his grip only tightens as his harsh words drip from his lips. His eyes seem to darken the longer he looks at you, steady on yours. “I will kill them all for San to live if I must.”

“Let me go.”

“I am not letting you go. You are not leaving. You will never leave.”

“Hongjoong–”

His eyes flutter close, a slow breath entering his throat. He opens them again, grin slowly growing on his face. “We will be your final hope, kumiho. You are ours. Not those soon-to-be-dead humans. Grow to care less for them, it will be better for you in the end once you see their graves.”

He leans forward, eyes steady on yours. “You are mine. Even if you yourself do not believe it. Come, San.” He reaches out his hand. San's hand touches his as Hongioong entwines their fingers. “Time to feed.”

He is gone with a blink.

—

Mingi's strikes are harder. He does not stop in his attacks, immediately swiping his opposing sword when you block one. Your breaths are rapid as you desperately try to keep up with his moves. They soon grow faster, your vision blurring trying to keep up.

“Mingi–” you grunt, dunking with another wide swing of his sword. It slices through the air, the sound audible. Fear grows as he continues, eyes seemingly glazed over. This is no longer a practice for you. “Mingi!”

He does not flinch at your shouting, sword raising again. This time you grab the pole he gave you, immediately throwing it against his chest. A loud boom surrounds you, your hands flying to your ears. Mingi's sword drops from his hands and to the mats. He’s thrown back several yards, body hitting a large tree behind him. Your eyes widen, stumbling to your feet. You leap over scraps of wood to get to him, panicked. His breaths are struggling as you crouch next to him, holding your hand against his chest.

“Mingi? Mingi, are you okay?”

He begins to laugh, head lifting. A bruised lip and swollen eye greet you, the pit in your stomach tightening at the sight. You cup his face, turning his head to the right. Cuts cover his skin from the splintered wood. All he does is chuckle as he watches your worried gaze.

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” you say.

“You did what you needed to do, nymph,” his hand encloses yours, lifting it from his face. He lets it go, touching his skin. He winces, sighing. “It wasn't your full strength, but it was enough. We might not be at a dead end with you after all.”

“You did that on purpose?” You stand, speaking slowly. “I thought you were losing yourself.”

His expression is aghast as he examines you. “Never. I have too much to protect to let my mind wander in a match.”

Frustration cannot help but rise in your body as you look down at him. The longer you stare, the longer your own mind wanders. The way San's eyes looked at you, slowly glossing over. The resigned look on his face. The blood. The Seelie dead beneath your fingertips. All of the blood.

You shut your eyes, taking a breath. You turn, leaving Mingi on the ground as you go back to gather your things. You hear him standing from his spot but you ignore him entirely, the horrible thoughts growing. The same face that has haunted you each time you've closed your eyes. Your own mind begins to mold it into the faerie just behind you.

“Are you truly this upset?” Mingi stops you from zipping your bag, hand covering the opening. Your hand wraps around his wrist to tug him away, removing it when a small grunt leaves his lips as you grip too harshly on a new wound.

“I hurt you, Mingi,” you say. “And you laughed.”

“You were supposed to hurt me. That's how you get better at fighting. It's what we do.”

“You should have told me.”

“You wouldn't have fought as hard if I did.”

You turn around, meeting his eyes. His wounds are slowly healing, but the ill feeling has yet to leave your body. “You should have told me.”

His eyes rest on yours. “I won't coddle you. Weakness will not help you, nymph. You saw the way San fell. I’m doing this to help you protect yourself, and to stop one of us from intervening when we see you being targeted. A few cuts and bruises shouldn’t stop you from practicing. We aren’t done.”

He will never understand it. It is his nature - violence, chaos, blood. For a time you thought there to be something more there. And maybe there is. But right now, as your eyes follow his movements, the empty look in his eyes, all you see is nothing. Eerily, the longer you stare, the longer you feel that same odd feeling as the last time you spoke to Soobin.

Like he is not entirely himself.

“I’ll practice with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Why are you so insistent with this, Mingi? We’re done for tonight,” You tug on your bag again, but he does not let go. “Mingi.”

“Do you think we do not think of San every waking moment? Do you believe us faeries to be so heartless that we do not grieve his absence?”

“I never said that.”

“But you stare at me as if it’s true. I am doing this for you, for us, kumiho. And if you were the least bit less selfish you would see what my intentions are. He died protecting you. Do you expect me to just stand back and watch each of us continue to die because we are shielding you? Do you think it fair that our lives are lost because of you?”

Your thoughts move back to Wooyoung, his hands cupping your face, head pressing against yours. It’s not your fault, solaris. Sometimes things just happen, and we cannot do anything to stop it. Don’t put this on yourself, please.

“I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“And yet here we are,” he lets go of your zipper, pushing the bag against your chest. You stumble slightly, and he grips the bag, steadying you. Mild disgust coats his face, “Take a reprieve. We start again after I feed.”

—

Sweat drips down your body, soaking your clothing as you heave against the mats. Mingi is not too far away, humming to himself as he packs the training gear away. He has not asked you once if you were alright and you do not blame him. You cough, blood splattering against the mats.

“Shit,” you mumble, hands roaming for your water bottle. You grab it with shaky hands, swirling fresh water in your mouth before spitting it in the grass near you. It’s fine, just a bit of dry mouth. Nothing alarming. Your chest tightens as you shut your eyes, trying to calm your own heartbeat down.

A hand appears in front of you, a small bottle. The liquid inside almost glows, thickened as you take it from him. “It’s revivify. It will only take a few minutes to help. One sip is enough for now.”

“Thanks,” you open the bottle, glancing inside. The stench is a bit sweet, though your nose does not quite agree with it. Swallowing it is a struggle in itself, your throat pulsing, threatening to regurgitate it back to the mats. But you force it down, a rumble echoing.

“Keep the rest.”

“Are you sure?” You struggle to your feet.

“We have no use for it since it cannot work on Unseelie. It wouldn’t work on us even if we desired it. It is supposed to work on humans, and although you are not one, it doesn’t hurt to try,” He glances at your bag sitting on the bench, grabbing it. “I will leave this outside your room.”

“Thank you.”

He looks at you. “I am doing this for your own good, you see it, no? It is destiny, just as it was for us to meet you, for San to die. It all was supposed to happen.”

“You believe in destiny?” You raise your brow. “You seem like the last person in your whole house to believe in it.”

“All faeries do,” Mingi shrugs. “It is fate for us to meet, just as it is for you to come to your city, to leave your partner, to be out here with me now. Even as we speak it is words that were already ingrained within us.”

“Makes it feel like we don’t have freedom of choice.”

His brows furrow. “How so?”

“If it is all predestined, how could we decide how things go? How this all ends? Why even try when we are forced along a linear path?”

“Ah…” he nods slowly. “You still have the simple mind of a human.”

“Doesn’t answer the question,” you frown.

“I said it is all fate, but I didn’t say that fate is linear. Each path we take is what we choose, but it is fate that brings us together, just as it is fate if we are brought apart. But that is too difficult for you to comprehend now.” He looks at you strangely. “How are your wrists?”

You look down, finger brushing against the forgotten wounds. It isn’t welted like before, but it’s scarring over, a deeper color contrasted against your skin. You’ve all but pushed that experience from your mind, too tortuous to dwell on amongst everything else. “I haven’t thought of it.” You admit, glancing at him. “Too many things going on right now for me to cry about something like this.”

His eyes rest on your wrists, before glancing away. “I pushed you farther than need be today. I overestimated how much strength you have in this human form.”

“I understand.” There’s an apology between his words, somewhere. You glance at his back. The pure horror that crossed Wooyoung’s face when he saw it in the imprisonment. Your quick glance was enough to see that it was painful. Horribly so.

“Are you okay?”

He furrows his brows, “I told you I was fine before.”

“No, I mean,” you hesitate. He closed off when Wooyoung questioned it, there’s no doubt he’d do the same to you. But you cannot help but try. “Your wings, your back. Are you okay?”

His eyes widen only minimally before resting. “Fine.” His steps are fast, not waiting for even a moment to hear what you have to respond. You stare at the potion in your hand, thoughts scattered. Perhaps he does care, in his own strange way.

Later that night, you find a small bag containing a potion hanging on the doorknob to your room with a scrawled note. The loneliness feeling shifts as you read it.

For your wrists. -M

—

Your gaze is unable to shift from your hands. Numb, cold from the breeze escaping through the gaping hole in your room. It's partially boarded up, a box of nails and wood slacks resting beneath it. Humorous given the situation – you don’t doubt the faeries you reside with have some sort of fix it spell on their roster. But you've insisted on doing it yourself. Splinters dig into the tender skin, your thumb rubbing against the risen surface. It is not enough to make you feel half of what the others felt, but it helps. You press your thumb into the small wooden splinters, pain ringing your nerves as you bleed.

Your new door flings open, nearly breaking off its hinges. You flinch, moving away from the sound. Hongjoong stands there, gaze scanning the room swiftly before resting on you. The once cocky Unseelie looks oddly haggardly, skin oily, hair no longer neatly styled. As if he just awoke from a slumber, clothing barely thrown on his figure. He sighs, fingers pinching his nose.

“You are not hurt.” He murmurs.

You raise your palm to him, before dropping it, picking up the tweezers near you. “Nothing a few hours of picking at my skin wouldn't fix. You almost broke my door, by the way.”

“I smelled blood.”

There's a light film of blood on your palm, but it's barely a teaspoon. “The wood pricked me.”

“Could you be even a bit more careful, kumiho?”

You laugh dryly, “No demonic creatures breaking through the walls again, if you were worried about that.”

His oddly concerned expression soon disappears. He grips your doorknob, ready to swing it back into its place. Just before he closes it, his eyes flick to you. “Caring for yourself shouldn't be such a feat.”

“It was a mistake, that’s all,” you murmur.

“Why lie? Remember where you are and what has happened. Unseelie may not care as Seelie do, but an ounce of sympathy would work wonders.”

The door shuts. You watch as the knob drops from its place, rolling against the wooden floor.

—

Your existence is not forgotten in the room. Body cemented into the loveseat as the discussion, fingers brushing against the potted plant San once cared for. Their words are heated, speaking in a language you cannot understand aside from names. Yeosang is not in the room as you predicted. Seonghwa paces back and forth, arms gesturing wildly, pointing at you every so often. Wooyoung’s tempered voice responded with a bit of annoyance, his presence far away from you not unnoticed. In fact, it seems that Jongho is the only one who could even stand your presence, passing you a novel before sitting on the armrest of your chair.

“Death is something we cannot overcome by merely forgetting it,” Hongjoong’s words ring, speaking in a language you can understand, looking at you briefly. Seonghwa does not attempt to hide the annoyance in his expression. “We must do something, or others may think we are weak.”

“They can try,” Yunho says, leaning against the archway. “Their attempts will be in vain.”

“Them trying is what I am actively avoiding.”

“We are Unseelie, Hongjoong. Someone attempting to take over happens every few centuries. They have likely found out about San’s death already, and Wooyoung being taken. It is only a matter of time before a group enters the meeting place. And they have questioned her presence already,” Seonghwa looks at you. “She should be removed.”

“And taken by Seelie? Is that the wisest thing to do?” Hongjoong scowls. “Once she is able to use her abilities without forgetting and they have control of her, we will all die.”

“She has already caught the attention of Lilith. We must kill her then.”

Your hand stills on the leave your brushing against, turning to Seonghwa. His back is facing you as he says it, waiting for Hongjoong to reply. He’s greeted with silence instead, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “What use does she have to live? We remove any chance of her growing to learn her skills and killing us, or leaving and finding herself in the hands of another group of fae. It is the best solution.”

“You would allow San’s death to be in vain, Seonghwa?”

All of you turn to the voice. Yeosang’s hands grip the doorway, eyes narrowing as he stares at him. Though the Unseelie is far, you can see the glimpse of a knowing smile on Yunho’s lips. Seonghwa looks pained as he meets his gaze, a slight step forward. “Yeosang.”

“Answer me.”

“It is the best solution.”

“You have not answered.”

“San would see reason in my choice if he were in my shoes.”

“You have endlessly criticized Hongjoong for his choices and yet make a selfish one of your own.”

“I am thinking of us. I have always thought of us. How can you not see that? Why don’t any of you see it? All because of this… thing?” He points at you. “It’s my fault for not killing her in the beginning. I allowed all of this to happen. We would have already moved on from this town, far away enough that even the thought of her would never be. But I have accepted that I made a bad decision. I wish that you all accept my words when I say keeping her around is a bad decision.”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “San’s death is not yours to take blame. It is not that simple-”

“I don’t want to see any of you die again.” The angst in his voice is palpable, strained. He grips the table near him, eyes glued to the floor. “I want you all to live. Please, please consider this. I won’t ask for a vote because I know where it would lead. Just, please.”

Hongjoong’s hand reaches out to touch his arm, but Seonghwa pulls it away from him harshly. “I’m tired of having these pointless fucking meetings when everyone dismisses my words. I am tired of it all. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” He leaves, shoulder harshly pushing through Yunho’s body as he exits.

Yunho reaches out a hand as Yeosang stumbles, murmuring words you cannot understand in his ear. He nods slowly, reaching an arm around his neck. The height difference is steep, but close enough for Yunho to help him out of the room. The others seem to leave not too long after, Hongjoong standing in the same spot once it's just the two of you left. The idea of being alone with him is uncomfortable enough that you begin to follow the others out. Until he speaks.

He never quite shuts up.

“We’re not killing you,” Hongjoong says. “We’ve decided on that already.”

“I feel so much better now that you say it,” you mumble. “I don’t fault Seonghwa for wanting to get rid of me. You’ve all been through so much since we’ve known each other.”

You exit the room, the soft steps of Hongjoong not too far behind. You expect him to stay behind when you walk outside, but he follows well. You stop walking, turning to look at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be able to kill you,” Hongjoong explains. “Many of them may hate me if I arrived without you with me. But if you made the decision on your own, it would be no fault of mine.”

“You want me to kill myself?”

“No,” he says after a moment. “I still cannot find the reason for their fascination with you. But I do not want that. Do you want to die tonight?”

You’ve been brave. Leaving them behind once before, dealing with that Seelie before San came to save you. Before, you thought you’d be able to survive without them by your side. But now? Even with the weapon that Mingi gave you, doubt settles within you. Your eyes flick up to the house. To the barely boarded up hole on your porch.

“No.”

“Then why are you not trying hard enough in your training? You have overcome danger before – we all saw the aftermath ourselves. Or, maybe…” he pauses, a strange look crossing his face. “Maybe your body knows that it is not a life threatening emergency, enough so that you would show your true form. Perhaps you just need a push.”

Hongjoong’s hand grips your arm, dragging you deeper into the forest. “I can test it now.”

“What the hell are you doing?” You grip his hand, but it is in vain. His nails dig into your skin as he pulls you, your pace struggling to keep up to the quickness of his. His gaze is lost as he paces through. “Hongjoong this isn’t funny.”

“Unfortunately I’m not trying to be humorous,” he glances down at you. “I will need to attempt to kill you in order to see if it works.”

The forest begins to dwindle, and soon you hear the sound of waves. You’ve been out in this area with Soobin before, know that your town rests near large cliffs. You visited it more often than not, standing at the treeline as you looked out into the ocean. He drags you to the edge, ignoring your pleas. Your hand digs into his sleeve, begging him to not do this. To realize what he's doing is wrong.

“Hongjoong please,” you say desperately, voice hoarse. He grabs your hand, ripping your grip off.

“I don't want you to die,” he says softly. “But this… this could help. This could show us your true potential, y/n. Don't you see it?”

Your name rolls off his tongue like a curse. The word is strong enough to stun you for a brief moment. But just the pause in time for him to dangle you over the ledge. His gaze is far gone, his free hand brushing against your cheek. Black pupils stare back at you, his brown hair a sheer white. His touch grows colder and colder as he touches your cheek, hums echoing around the forest. You grew unafraid of them all since you've been with them for months – thinking that your life was safe enough. But the blank gaze of his, the eerie tune that falls from his lips, it is not caring. It is not human.

“The others will know.”

“They will forgive me once you come back alive.”

“This isn't humane–”

“Neither of us are humans, kumiho. We do not need to follow the morality of human law. Can't you see it? I'm saving you. This is me saving you.” His lips brush across your cheeks, indecipherable Latin whispered into your ear.

He lets go.

#fic: wonderwall #ot8 x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst

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