#sorry for the long paragraph oop

[skyward-floored]

Would you mind if I just send a snippet?

My brain just reminded me that I have technically updated 2 fics today and that clogging the tags is a jerk move.

First of all, sure! I’d love a snippet!

Second of all... I don’t think two or three (or even four) fics is clogging the tag?

Clogging tags is stuff like making the same exact post ten times to try and get attention, or tagging every post you make with inapplicable tags, or uploading all thirty fics you wrote for a monthly challenge in the space of ten minutes. Not just a handful of fics! I mean, if I have stuff written I’m going to post, I like to space it out so it’s more enjoyable, but that’s not really the same.

...this turned into a mild rant, apologies 😅 But yeah. I don’t think it’s tag clogging?

[kwillow]

will theo ever be happy

Maybe in another life.

[heyitspersephone]

Thinking about stranger things again now that the strikes are over and how, narratively, it would be way, WAY cooler to have Mike get Vecna’d instead of Will in s5

It’s just something about the way Mike’s trauma is never addressed or handled in any way?? Like, he hugs his mom twice and then when he was depressed in season 2 and 4 nobody did anything (his parents scolded him for his behavior in s2 ig but that’s not support). His best friend went missing leaving from his house, he watched his body get pulled from the quarry, watched El (in his eyes) kill herself stopping the demogorgon, watched Will be possessed, saw Bob die, was in Star Court when everything went down, saw Billy die, had his best friend move away, was SHOT AT (and really too few people talk about the shooting in Cali bc omg??), buried a body, and watched the apocalypse start. And that’s just off the top of my head.

(And yes I’m aware that the other characters (especially Will) are traumatized too but I will get to my point in a second just hold on)

The plot is geared towards this idea that Will and Henry have to have some big face off (and they should, in my opinion, but I don’t think it should be in a possession, or at least not the the Vecna kind of possession, yk?) but that makes it all the better, writing wise, to have mike be the one in danger. Will was helpless and hiding in s1, I think Will should get his big strong moments in s5 where he gets to be the hero of the story.

It would just be a lot more fun to work with Mike being Vecna’d than Will, because what are we going to bring up with Will’s visions? His dad? His sexuality? The events of s1 from his perspective? It would be cool to see, for sure, but we already know most of that. Mike, on the other hand, has a number of untapped things, like jumping off the quarry, why he’s so hesitant to tell El he loves her, how someone who was smart and kind enough to take El in in s1 and come up with the spy and sauna plans in s2 and s3 could turn into the oblivious asshole that he was in s3 and s4 (he needs therapy, ik, I still love his character but I want to explore the reasons he went from his s2 characterization to his s3 one)

It would be a very interesting parallel, I think, to explore Mike’s thought processes in this way, especially with all of Mike’s repression business (bc whether you ship byler or milkvan he is repressing his feelings HARD. Like, beyond his inability to say I love you there’s the fact that he doesn’t bring up the apparent many times he called pre-s4 during the Rink O Mania fight?? That literally would’ve absolved him of guilt in that argument since he WAS reaching out to Will the whole time? Hellooooo????).

Anyways, this all brings me to my main point: Vecna targets isolation as much as he targets trauma and guilt. The whole party was traumatized by the events in s1, s2, and s3, but Max was the one targeted. Plus, Henry went for Fred, Chrissy, and Patrick (I think his name was Patrick) instead of going for the perceivably easy targets that the mcs would make (ik narratively that would’ve made it more boring but shhh), so why Max and those three specifically? They were isolated. Lucas and Erica have each other, Dustin goes to Steve and Robin, Will and El have each other and Jonathan and Joyce, Nancy probably goes to Jonathan, and who does Mike go to?

No one. And don’t say Nancy because if those two have heart to hearts then I’m the next coming of Christ. Max separated herself from the Party in the aftermath of her grief and guilt over Billy, and it feels quite obvious that Mike was doing the same (like I said, he has repression issues). So Mike is traumatized, alone, and guilty (be it Will getting taken from Mike’s house, losing El in front of him multiple times, the many deaths he has witnessed, or the internalized homophobia angle), which makes him more of a target than Will, in my opinion (or at least an easier one, especially given his tendency to put himself on the line during fights (quarry, most of s2, s3 mindflayer fight), which would set him up on the suicidal ideation path)

Furthermore, as I’ve seen a few other people point out (and I can’t find the posts but one of them had eight screenshots of the various moments), Mike is always the one getting in the way, so it would be a strategic move for Henry to target him to get him out of the picture. Mike was the one that found El and got her involved in saving Will s1, he was the one who came up with the spy plan and called out the ambush in s2, he was the one to monologue Will out of his possession s2, he was the one with the sauna plan for Billy in s3, he was the one trying to help El get the strength to fight s4 (even if the monologue sucked ass it’s the intention that counts). As much as people like to hate on Mike, he is in the leader position most of the time when the party is grouped up (barring his mental health struggles slowing that down beginning of s3 and throughout s4, but he’s still capable of it). He’s the idea man, and he’s the one whose character’s foundations were built on the desire to keep his friends safe, so it would be a very fun plot line to watch him be the one targeted in s5. Like Will said, as lovestruck and cheesy as he was, Mike is the heart of the party when he’s on his A-game, so Henry should 100% be trying to keep him in the issues he’s been struggling with.

Obviously, Will and El are the Targets with a capital T for Henry since they’re the ones that got away or whatever, but I think Mike is a weakness of Will’s (and El’s tbh but also I think they need to have separate character arcs and I don’t exactly ship milkvan) that should be exploited.

TL;DR: Mike should get Vecna’d instead of Will in s5 because it would make sense in lore and be a very cool way to resolve his character arc

[oh-no-its-bird]

Adjusting my glasses and squinting at my ask box

One of you guys REALLY wants edo tensei tobirama huh

[raionmimi]

Someone once told me that they loathe Medb because she objectifies people, and I can't help but agree. From her creation of Cu Alter to her relationship with Skadi, and then something Fergus mentioned twice, once in the manga and once in Summer 4. But, rather than seeing this in a negative light, as the person who mentioned this, I couldn't help but find this an interesting fault because the story, for the most part, treats this as neither fully bad or completely good Because viewing it through this lens makes Skadi and her relationship uniquely realistic because, while Medb is doing it for completely warped and selfish motives, it also highlights the fact that Skadi needs a self-severing person in her life to get over her troubles and eluvates her in such a intersting manner. Or, in another situation, how she basically earns Cu alter's respect via sheer tenacity through that viewpoint but also caused the american singularity. I had these thoughts swriling around my head the past few days I couldn't help but to wonder what the biggest Medb fan would think about this.

A lot of people, including your friend, view America as a "I have you now, my pretty" scenarios from what I've seen. America plays it up that Medb "gets to have" Cu as an object of affection. Higashide specifically wanted the player to think that, so it comes off as a surprise in the reveal when Alter admits that he's fighting for Medb's wish on his own free will the whole entire time.

(TL;DR: at the bottom before the cut)

When you go back, you realize that there is a lot of foreshadowing that this was the case the whole time. Namely that Cu Alter has so much autonomy and free will for someone who is supposedly "under control." Medb never gets mad at him when he disagrees with her, and the fact that he would debate with her at all is extremely telling when she's usually pretty pushy as a person when it comes to what she thinks is the correct line of action

Both Medb and Cu have their own ideas of what it means to be a king and a hero. For Cu, we know that he doesn't care for honors and titles, but Medb had to work her ass off to get a title for her own safety and to be taken seriously by others. Cu (probably) thought he was well meaning for telling Medb that he didn't want to hurt or kill her because she was a woman, but to her, it was insulting that he wouldn't view her as a warrior when she had gone through a fuckton to get to where she was. He accepted that he was going to die in a blaze of glory, while she can't understand how he can just go throw his life away without ever properly taking her on when everyone thinks of her as the villain of his story.

So there's an obvious disconnect between the two. The fact that they DO talk about this, change each other's minds, and disagree is where the development lays. By the end of the singularity, Alter is able to recognize Medb's efforts as a queen, which was the main validation she wanted from him. Medb also arguably understands that Cu isn't how she thought he’d be that if you notice, anytime they're together, she no longer brings up how she thinks he should act. She just thinks what he does is really cool instead, so they’ve basically gotten the chance to get to know each other better and come to some sort of understanding

The only problem is that Higashide never actually addresses the issue on Cu's end. Personally, I don't really mind tooo too much because Medb's emotions is what I care more so about in the dynamic, but it still leaves a very huge "What even are his thoughts about this?" And I dont mean Alter, I mean the original Cu. It's very clear by the stark difference in how Medb talks to Alter and Cu that she thinks Cu is much colder to her than he actually is. But she also was able to talk to Alter more genuinely because with his emotions suppressed, it was like talking to someone who would never actually respond in a way that would be too overwhelming where she'd have to be on guard. But that's only a stepping stone to the actual problem.

Cu cares a great deal about Medb as a person because if he wasn't aware of her circumstances when they were alive, he does now that they're servants. He mentioned her in HA before she was even in FGO and says that a ton of bad things happened to her and she's a product of what happened to her. But he still doesn't do anything about it in a way that's actually helpful. He treats Medb like someone he feels like he has to take care of, even if she's troublesome, instead of acknowledging his own flaws that got him into the situation with her in the first place.

He still has chivalrous view of women that can be seen as patronizing like telling Medusa in Extella that he doesnt want to fight or kill women when Medusa had the clear advantage. He chooses Nero over Tamamo because Tamamo reminded him too much of Medb. He talks about how he wants to be more reliable to Medb in his voiceline, even to the point of making a promise to her that we still have NO idea what it could possibly have been about. He avoids Medb when she's up to mischief, yet when she asks for help he is immediately willing to do whatever. Even to the point that Knocknarea in LB6 is confused as to why he's so eager and willing to help her.

Cu's thoughts are a huge piece of the puzzle missing that if you don't pay attention to how he handles Medb, it comes off as one sided when it's more like two people avoiding communicating the root of a problem.

I highly doubt that his side would ever occur as the closest there has come to being critical of Cu's actions is the consequences of his thing with Fand and Emer in the Vday events with Caren and Bazett. Do agree that sometimes, other writers will just use Medb's love for him as a gag to idk fill up the spaces or something. It can be funny but if that's all she does, then ya I get the criticisms esp when their actual convos are way funnier. I have more thoughts on them, but I've already wrote so much lmao

Very cool and poggers of the manga to have Cu Alter kneeling down and accepting a kiss from her tho

TL;DR: Medb and Cu have lore to build off of + that there are flaws to be addressed. Makes the subtle growth very cool and leeway for further Medb development and complexities.

---

Putting the rest under the cut because I'm critical of the way Sakurai writes Medb and Skadi. Read if u want, but know that I'm kind of a hater so I'd rather you look at something you like instead.

Sakurai's writing with Skadi doesn't have the benefit of lore to easily play around with though. TL;DR at the bottom.

The problem is that the writers never really fleshed out Scathach that much, nor did they have the latter interact much with Medb. The whole premise of this dynamic is that Medb thinks Skadi is Scathach and she's surprised that "Scathach is acting different than she usually does" and keeps trying to get Skadi to act "like she usually does"

But Medb doesn't even really know Scathach, they hardly talked. Like ever. There's like 5 lines of dialogue from between 2018 to now between the two across the American singularity to events and voice lines. Most of the time, they don't even directly talk to each other. Unlike her thing with Alter, Medb has never come to an understanding with Scathach, nor does she really have any reason to care about her

The writing has to rely on existing character dynamics that... was hardly there to begin with makes it crumble that much faster to me personally. It'd make more sense if they had actually written a LOT of interaction with each other to the point of them influencing each other's characters, whether in a positive or negative way. But as it stands, it'd make more sense for Medb to react to the gap difference between Ushi and Taira than Scathach and Skadi because the writers chose to give more depth to Ushi and Medb as frenemies.

I was never a fan of Medb Skadi writing because it comes off as a cheap way to introduce Skadi into the Chaldea dynamics. It's nothing like Ushi or Ex and Medb, Knocknarea and Castoria's level of development, where it'd make sense. Not to mention, nothing about Skadi is remotely what Medb is interested in. If it had been the other way around, where Skadi was introduced first and then Scathach showed up, it'd make a bit more sense given who Medb usually hangs out with or talks to

Sakurai mainly utilizes Medb as a mouthpiece of how cute and uwu Skadi is rather than having any meaningful development between the two across multiple events. It just gets weird and sometimes even creepy at times, esp when you remember Higashide's Medb had never been sexual towards Alter. But Sakurai's Medb sexually harasses Skadi when Medb herself is a SA victim?? And she writes Medb as calling herself tainted in a diff event????? Even Minase treated Medb better in the Prisma Illya event. Like, I don't hate Sakurai, but she can be very hit or miss with me on certain things.

You can compare Skadi to almost any other character that Medb has interacted with, and it's severely lacking. Neither one's lore is really addressed until Skadi's interlude and even then, Medb doesn't really have much to do with it, she's just "I will lend you a Cu (caster) because I'm already holding two Cu's hands right now"

I don't mind if people like Skadi, but I just don't think Sakurai handles Medb and Skadi well together. It comes off as either shoe horned yuri bait at worst, and not knowing where to put Skadi since she didn't have much connection to any character in her LB at best that she just slapped her onto Medb for the vague Scathach connection. There is no lessons learned, no real understanding of each other, and it's just Medb doing what she wants. There's no balance or substance that I personally like

I admit that I have not read her summer event parts to know how she develops with other characters though. I'm still very :// about the transphobia with her changing Caeneus's spirit origin without his consent because she "wanted Caeneus to fit in with the other girls" which doesn't help much when she calls Caeneus tainted because of their SA in the lostbelt.

I just don't really care much for the character or the writing between her and medb, so that's why you'll hardly ever see me talk about her.

Apologies because I know you went in talking positively, but I agree with your friend on this one. It does come heavily across as objectification and one of those ships you'd meme on as "gay ship for straight ppl (with a male audience in mind specifically)" and is not treated well, so I personally ignore it.

TL;DR: I dont like Skadi writing or Medb/Skadi writing. I do not mind if other do tho, so like its just do ya own thing, yfeel?

Anyways, ship Castoria x Knocknarea

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Ok we're pretty much not going to see eye to eye on this and that's fine, nothing you have said makes me think that genetics matter more than the anatomy that a person is born and raised with, but I'm not going to tell you you are wrong if you want to define people born with vaginas as male based on their chromosomes. I'll never think genetics matter more than the body one actually has since so many genes are suppressed and however the sry gene is suppressed or expressed in KS varies from person to person. I have read about some cases of people with KS growing up as female and then transitioning to male because once they learned they realized that being intersex was the cause of them never fitting in with other female people. I've also read cases of people with KS who never noticed the effects of the sry gene and did not feel like their body resembled any semblance of a man when they learned about their condition, and there are other people who had much more ambiguous anatomy and never fit in with either sex on a functional level. I haven't yet heard of a person with KS being raised male and discovering they are intersex as adults because the doctors didn't clock them as intersex at birth. To me it seems like the second x chromosome usually has more influence over phenotype than the y chromosome does, but I'm not intersex and I'm fine with letting intersex people speak for themselves about what their sex is.

The way you worded this strongly implied to me that you think even cis women with endocrine disorders have a doping advantage. I take issue with that idea which is why i brought it up (being born with a competitive advantage is not the same as doping in my book) Your latest reply makes me think you don't actually think that and I misinterpreted this, but that's how I interpreted it and why I brought up XX females. I think even if a woman with KS has atypical testosterone levels for a female, if those levels are still within the range that a female could naturally produce then it's not really accurate to say that they have male levels of testosterone. Especially if they have a vagina and literally do produce a level of testosterone that is in the female range but not the male range.

Of course these things are situational and we would need numerous in depth tests on khelif's body to determine where she falls, so I understand why you might feel that's all irrelevant and unnecessary when intersex athletes could just join the trans people in a campaign to compete in their own special league. I am also in favor of trans specific competitive leagues, but I truly don't see the need of excluding intersex people from cis sports. especially when you consider the demographic of intersex people who did not discover their condition until decades into their lives (potentially up to 1/3 of intersex people experience this, although intersex people suffer from large research data gaps). Obviously there is no way to enforce keeping all intersex people out of high school or college sports teams, unless sex tests become mandatory to participation, which may out unwitting children as intersex and expose them to increased bullying from their peers. So having separate leagues that are intersex inclusive is not the fix-it cis people think it is.

[biff-adventurer]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #19: Weal

It was the good kind of ache. Exhausted, bones broken, scarred and scabbed, Biff lay in his bed with a happy sigh. He hadn’t fought so hard in a while, and the sights they had seen! The passions they shared! Their thrilling dance of death! He looked forward to someday doing it again, perhaps with four less people this time. He wasn’t sure how long it took kami to accumulate an aramitama, but he hoped there would be another battle with similar stakes. Watching Mikazuki shift and change like a true moon’s god was a delight he would not soon forget. The old man certainly had tricks up his great, big sleeves!

He thought, then, of those tantalizing eyes. He’d never noticed how truly lovely they were, though he’d always believed both the blade and its tsukumogami to be of the utmost beauty. The old man had impeccable taste. Er… Biff bit his lip. If he truly cared for Mikazuki, shouldn’t he have been thinking ‘grandfather’? His heart cringed and he puzzled over it. For so many days since they’d met, it had felt right. Dear grandfather, sweet jiji, gilded granddad and all the rest! The words turned to ash on his tongue. Did the battle change something?

There, right there. The flutter at his heart.

“Well, fuck.”

He was head over heels in love with someone else. He didn’t have time to have a second crush! Oh, what to do? He rolled around in bed, suddenly unfeeling all the wondrous wounds on his body, restless with dissatisfaction. Was it even possible to love two people at once? It was, of course, and he loved her. The star that followed him forever. And anyway, weren’t they meant to be? Yes, of course. The thought of her cooled his heart and he sighed in relief. She knew him, all of him, and she promised to always be with him. That was enough for him.

Besides, a little crush on a new friend was to be expected. Mikazuki Munechika was, after all, the most beautiful blade under heaven. It was like the thrill of loving a celebrity, wasn’t it? There was nothing wrong with that. Hopefully, it would not change a thing between them.

Well, except for the ‘grandda’ bit. A tiny change like that would probably go unnoticed, though, so there was nothing to worry about!

[rhythmelia]

Thinking bout laundry

@prismatic-bell has a nifty post up about the technique of laundry stripping (with some discussion of the history of it, what it's for, the fact that Arizona has very hard water. Sorry you're dealing with a lot of shitty people in the notes prismatic-bell :/) here:

And I was just thinking about how, while laundry stripping is a kind of heavy-duty option you might do every so often, there's something that I do on a more regular basis that might also help.

Caveats apply of course, depending on your level of strength and mobility and spoons, and while my area has hard water, it's probably not quite as full of minerals as Arizona, and I don't have a water softener machine that my water passes through (my grandparents' house down the block that was built in the 70s does, and we have to periodically buy salt for it, and replace the dang thing every decade or so).

So I and probably many folks like me have a sideways loading HE (high efficiency) washing machine. Doesn't use a ton of water, doesn't really have a soaking option the way the older upright top-loading washing machines do.

I like to do this with my laundry before I toss it in that machine:

[ID: a shower stall with a large basin full of soaking laundry resting on the floor of it, some fabric being spot-treated for stains sitting outside the basin, and a smaller basin full of a few items of clothing that's had the water somewhat squeezed out of it. Plus a bar of laundry soap. /end ID]

I'm depending on the power of osmosis, lol. I plop a large basin into my shower, fill it with water and a little bit of the regular liquid laundry detergent that I use in the washing machine (we buy the hypoallergenic no scents kind), and then put my laundry in to soak for at least an hour, longer if I get busy because executive function? what's that lol.

(just don't soak it too long or you start getting a musty smell, but tbh I. uh. have had that happen to me too many times, and having it hang outside to dry for a day or so will deal with it. :P I'll soak a load of stuff at night to deal with in the morning and it's fine? The time I didn't have it in me to deal with for a few days was. Not great :P)

I know everyone says use cool water because hot sets stains, I've used warm water because I have poor circulation and I haven't noticed a difference personally? idk

For my clothes that have things like blood or grease stains, I'll spot treat with Oxyclean stain remover first and let it sit out of the basin for about 10 minutes per instructions, then dunk it in with the rest.

Back when I had a top-loader washing machine, I would use that soaking setting. Now I have to do it manually. And the soaking with the soap and water allows for my sweat and "the smell of youth" per my mom [wails Smells Like Teen Spirit into the void] to leach out into the water. And I might do some extra scrubbing with the laundry bar (laundry soap from Chinese or Korean brands bought from my local Chinese or Korean grocery, less slimy and disintegrate-y compared to body soap) for any items that need a bit more attention, like socks or underwear, or the underarms of tops that show antiperspirant residue.

Wet clothes are heavy, so I'll squeeze or gently wring out the water I can and take multiple trips to my washing machine with a smaller basin. Also now is the time to stick the more delicate stuff (like my cloth masks or some of the shirts with nice iron on designs) in the mesh laundry cylinders or bags. And make sure clothes are turned inside out to protect the nice side from the friction of clothes rubbing against each other.

I don't use fabric softener, typically wash all my clothes on cold-cold water cycle, and I generally hang my clothes out to dry when weather allows (and indoors when it doesn't), and I feel like my clothing has stayed in decent condition for a long (long) time, without too much fading or the fabric feeling icky.

I'm curious what other people do with their laundry? I deal with a lot of executive dysfunction, so I'm usually about 70% of the time managing to get my soaked laundry into the machine before too much time has passed lol.

[hxsbeens]

comfort.

pairing(s): Angel Dust x gn!reader

fic contents/warnings: probably ooc Angel, reverse comfort, i rushed the ending because i didn’t know where to go from there oops, mentions of abuse and a brief mention or two about sex, Angel’s hurt

authors note: woo first work on here :D it’s alright i guess, i haven’t properly written since like september lmao. also not proofread, although my mother did read the first few paragraphs and saw a few errors so thank you mom 🫶🏽

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

your head was just about to hit the pillow when the door creaked open, making your head snap towards it amidst the darkness of the room. the clacking of heels signaled one’s entrance. they were careful, attempting to stay quiet as they navigated their way through the darkness.

of course, you knew who they belonged to—especially when you heard the quiet hiss followed by a hushed curse.

“Angel?”

the sound of your voice caused a suspension in those very same footsteps. you heard another silent “fuck” as the owner of the voice slowly turned to you.

“i-i’m sorry, sugar,” ANGEL DUST apologetically stammered, tightening the pink, fluffed out robe around his slender form. “i didn’t wake ya, did i? what’re you doin’ up so late?”

you slowly sat up, squinting your eyes in an attempt to see him through the dark room. “no…no, i was just about to head to sleep, actually.” you reach over towards the nightstand and turned on the web-patterned lamp, now able to get a better look at your better half. the very moment the room was lit to that extent, the spider instantly tensed and clutched his robe tighter to his fluff, blinking narrowed eyes to adjust them to the sudden lighting. from where he stood, you could easily see the parts of him he tried to conceal, for your sake.

one of his eyes were starting to bruise—though, from where you sat, it was difficult to tell whether or not it was already there. there’s a dark blue circle on his neck, one that connects to the curve of his shoulder. you couldn’t tell if it was a bruise or hickey. there were probably more, but the silk wrapped around his body covered what you couldn’t see.

your eyes didn’t linger long—you made sure they didn’t. you knew he’d hate it if you stared at him while he looked so - was so vulnerable.

instead, you lightly tossed the covers off you, throwing your legs off the side of the mattress. you and Angel looked at each other, and, silently, you extended your arms expectantly. he gave you a skeptical look. “what’re ya gettin’ at?” he inquired, and you could hear the hoarseness in his voice. it must’ve been a rough night for him…obviously.

“is it so bad that i just want to hug you right now?” you watched as he took in a breath — almost like he wanted to say something smart in return, something filled with his usual sass and wit. but he didn’t.

his fingers tightened around the fluff of his robe, and, with small, reluctant steps, Angel Dust dragged himself over to you, suddenly feeling a lot heavier than he did when he first got back.

once he stood between your arms and legs, he looked down at you, his forehead creasing with the furrow of his eyebrows. you could see the tears gathering at his bottom eyelids, even if he did try to blink them away before they became noticeable.

you were taken slightly aback when he dropped to his knees, having to spread them on the floor a bit so he was able to shove the crown of his head into your stomach. it didn’t take long for you to cradle his head, soothingly running your fingers through his fur. in kin, his upper arms wrapped around you, the ones lower reaching up to grasp your wrists. his touch desperate.

“we don’t have to talk about it, sweetie,” you whispered, feeling his upper shoulders shake slightly as he took in a sharp, trembling intake of breath. “we can just…sit here. until you’re ready for bed.”

he sobbed quietly in your arms. “im tired, [nickname].”

“i know, baby.”

“why’s it always have to be me he plays with? why can’t i ever get a break? it’s- it’s like he knows to only call me in when i’m finally fine!”

“i know.”

“why does-“

you silence him by cupping his face, lifting his head to look at you. his fur was getting wet with his tears, and his makeup ran with the streaks. he hiccuped, tensing for a moment. he was still so, so unused to the gentle treatment, especially after such a night.

you don’t say anything. you just stroke his cheeks, your thumbs running over the pink freckles over his white cheeks as you looked at each other. you smile as he slowly leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as he tried to savor the feeling of comfort once more. your hands were so warm, so familiar. they almost instantly brought him back from his head.

you pull him back in, and he holds you tighter, desperate — but in a different font of it.

“An-..” you pause, looking down at him carefully. this wasn’t Angel Dust with you, not right now, and you knew that. “Anthony?”

he’s silent. but his hoarse voice sounds from where his head is, his voice slightly muffled.

“..yeah?”

“i love you.”

…

“i… i love you, too, [name].”

you both sat like that for a moment; you holding and comforting him, and him embracing the affection without any comments. he wasn’t tense anymore, relaxing fully in your entrusted hold on both him, and his beaten heart. you knew he trusted you. and he knew it all the same. it was hard for him to believe, and even grasp the reality of at first, but he…sort of came to terms with it.

“i just don’t understand how someone like you could love someone as broken as me.” he once told you. and you had no doubt that he was thinking it again, right in this very moment.

you didn’t say anything about it. you wouldn’t want to bring him down again after getting him calm.

instead, you proposed, “how about we go shower? you smell like sex, and i just got these sheets washed. i don’t want our bed smelling like an asshole.”

Angel let out a little laugh at your words, finding your own distaste (or, hatred, more specifically) for his “boss” amusing. “only if you join me,” he replied, looking up at you with a smile. you smiled back. “of course. i’d be stupid not to.”

“damn right, you would.”

you laughed, and he looked at you with a love-stricken gaze. one of which you returned.

he would be alright - he knew it.

and he had you to thank for it.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[bambisspeckles]

A Cigarette, A Guiding Light, My Guardian Angel

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

*pics for aesthetic purposes only!

CW: simon is kinda gross (its my fav simon im sorry), depictions of a mildly unhealthy relationship but everyones happy, reader is going through it, simon also has his own issues but nothing is specifically mentioned, very light religious themes (literally one paragraph), simon is also a little mean but like teasing mean, mild editing, lmk if i missed anything!!

WC: 3.6k (oops!)

Summary: Simon finds a stray, only it's not an animal: It's you.

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It's winter again.

The cold, biting air nips at your skin as you wander the streets streets of Manchester, your mind in a constant daze. You've been wandering for awhile now, traveling on trains, staying in hostels, shelters, and sketchy hotels, with no place to call home, the one you once had a place you vowed never to return to. It's scary, lonely, the world feels so big when you wander with only the clothes on your back and a few things to your name.

You get desperate, especially during times like this. It's so cold out and your winter coat is wearing, seams splitting apart, and new holes appearing on the fabric everyday. You've tried shelters but most are full, not that you'd be able to afford to stay long anyhow, and hostels in Manchester cost too much per night. You're exhausted, your feet blistering, and your shitty winter boots are rubbing against the back of your ankle. You feel much like the sky above, dark, gray, cloudy.

Sometimes you consider knocking on peoples doors, begging for shelter and a hot meal but the fantasy ends as quickly as it begins, there's no point in begging for something people won't give you. You don't entirely blame these hypothetical strangers though, the world is crazy and hard, most of them are probably barely holding on themselves, how could you expect them to take care of you, even if only for a night. Not to mention it's dangerous for them, what if you're crazy? You're not but they don't know that. You don't know if they're crazy either.

That might be a chance you're willing to take though.

The sun is beginning to set and the air is growing frostier by the minute, you know shops will close soon so you'll only be able to camp out in them for so long. You wonder if it's even worth it, going into a nice warm cafe only to be kicked to the bitter cold is almost worst than just staying it, the warm and cozy atmosphere taunting you with what you can't have. It's cruel, begging on the street, the looks of pity from strangers, it all feels like one humiliation game, like god is taking pleasure in watching you lie down like a kicked dog.

Some nights you beg him to take you out, others you beg him to provide you hope, a guiding light, a guardian angel, anything that might give you hope to keep trudging on. It is said in times of struggle people either turn to god, or walk away from him.

You think you're somewhere in between.

Something snaps you out of your thoughts, a shadowy figure walking down a dark alleyway you were passing by. You know better than to follow monsters into the dark, and maybe if you were still the girl you once knew, you'd shrug it off and continue down the sidewalk, just like anyone else would. Only you're not like anyone else now. You're detached from society, the dirt on the bottom of people's shoes, you're not even sure you're seen as human anymore.

You can call but no one will answer.

It's normal for your, how have people put it? Your kind, to reside in alleyways, dark hallways the rest of the world wouldn't dare to touch. It's where the dirty go, the sick go, the broken go. You think you fit that bill well now, and since you do, you ignore the way your gut screams at you to turn around, and run back to the light. You've learned there is no hope in the light, so perhaps you'll find it in the dark. You walk further into the alley, the darkness making it feel like a never-ending tunnel. Everything you expect to be there is there, used needles and empty bottles, bodies slumped over, you're not quite sure if they're dead or alive.

Dirty. Broken. Sick.

Everything is there, everything except what you're looking for. You not even sure what it is, all you know is that you haven't found it yet. Perhaps it's not a thing you're looking for, maybe it's a person. Darkness envelopes you like a cold, uncomforting blanket, it feels like tendrils of murkiness are wrapping around your body, pulling you further into your own misery. You're not really sure how long you walked, it was likely only a few minutes but with the state of your mind it felt like hours. You can tell you've finally reached the end when you can squint and see a brick wall in front of you.

God, what did you expect. It was a whole load of nothing, of course it was. The cold was probably getting to you and you can't imagine you're in the best mental state at the moment, of course you're not! You just walked down a dark alleyway, I mean no one willingly does that unless they're mentally unwell and-

"You shouldn' follow strange men into dark alleyways girl." A deep, gravelly voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You take a quick moment to collect yourself, your voice practically a squeak as you talk.

"W- what makes you think I was following you." The man laughs at that and you finally turn to look in his direction, the orange glow of a cigarette butt guiding your gaze towards him.

'Wha' else would you be following? Or are you tryin' to tell me you walked down an alleyway jus' cause." There's a cocky, almost teasing lilt in his voice. It makes you scowl, not that he can see.

"I don't know why I came down here." You reply honestly and there's a helplessness that unwillingly seeps through your voice. You're afraid it reveals too much.

You hear the man huff at your words before he speaks again.

"Go home. S' not safe for such a little' bird like you to be out here all alone." You faintly feel the thick smoke from his cigarette as he blows out, tendrils of ash caressing your skin

"I don't have one, not anymore." You're not sure why you tell him this. He doesn't care, he can't save you.

Perhaps, foolishly, you hope he will.

"Bit dramatic are you?" The man takes another drag of his cigarette and you huff at is words.

"I'm not being dramatic, it's true. I don't have a home, I thought it'd be obvious with my unsightly appearance." He chuckles at that.

"Can't see you well in the dark… Perhaps we should step into the light, hm?" You hear the man shift in place for a moment, the sound of ruffling clothes filling your ears.

"There's not much to see in the light either." There's a beat of silence before the man speaks once more, his shadowy figure leaning closer to you.

"Come home with me bird." It's more of a demand than a question.

"I'm not some whore for hire." The bite in your voice causes him to grunt rather harshly, flecks of orange ember falling onto your skin.

"M' not tryin' to fuck you. Said' you got no where to go, m' offerin' you a place to stay. Take it or leave it bird." He blows out one final puff of smoke before the orange glow of the cigarette butt slowly dissipates into the night, the odd comfort of the dull light dissipating with it.

You clench your jaw for a moment, the sound of your grinding teeth filling the tense silence. Perhaps if you were still the person of your past, you'd say no, but if you were the person of your past you wouldn't be here at all. You're no longer integrated into society, no longer part of a community, you have nothing and no one yet the world keeps spinning, how foolish you were to think you mattered at all. Who are you to think you're above anyone else? Everyone just wants the same as you, a warm bed and a hot meal.

There are many paths to the same place after all.

With a long, breathy sigh, you nod into the darkness and though you doubt the man can see it, he somehow knows you've said yes.

"Smart thing you are." He coos at you so softly and it makes your stomach twist, though the underlying purr of his words makes your heart thrum just a bit.

Not that you'd say that out loud. \ You don't feel very smart at the moment, but who knows, maybe the monster in the dark can offer you more than an angel in the light.

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Simon knows better than to pick up strays, especially one as clueless as her, they're more trouble than it's worth; Dirty, sick, broken. He already has to continuously pick up the pieces of his past, millions of little shards that he has to take the time to glue back together, over and over again, he doesn't want to do that for anything else. He's always been firm in it too. Johnny constantly pokes fun at him, telling him his heart is colder than he originally thought, that perhaps he'd find a bit of joy in a disheveled little thing.

Johnny probably meant a cat though.

Instead, Simon's got himself his very own bird. He had no intention of caging you, truly he didn't, he was content to send you on your way, send you out of his life. But when the moonlight hit your features just right, a vulnerable glow in your eye visible, and the helplessness in your voice seeped out, he couldn't help himself. Simon never acts based off his wants, off his selfishness, but perhaps just once, he could have a pet of his own.

So that's what he does. He takes you, and you don't put up much of a fight. Willingly following him out of the dark alley and back into society, bright street lights causing him to squint his eyes. He asks your name and you tell him so sweetly. You're scared and unsure, he wants to tell you not to worry, that he's a bad man but he'd never hurt a helpless thing like you. Eyes all wide and glassy, furrowed brows, and pouty lips. He wonders how such a soft bird like you ended up shunned from the world. You don't look like a junkie, and you told him yourself your no whore for hire, when he looks at you all he sees is a helpless kitten, separated from all her purebred friends, and tossed outside for tomcats like him.

You fidget anxiously when he ushers you towards his car, his calloused hand moving onto your lower back to guide you softly, causing you to stiffen up for a moment. He chuckles meanly at that. Your fretting continues in the car and Simon's not sure what more he can do to calm you down, after all, he's never dealt with a stray before.

He resolves to leave you be, eventually you'll realize that his home is yours, that you're safe now, that he'll take care of you. You'll let yourself be pampered by him and he'll have a trophy to show off to the world, a pretty little thing perched on his arm like a good little bird.

Simon doesn't like strays, but he sure does like you.

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The man tells you his name his Simon and he doesn't tell you much more, you don't bother asking anything else, maybe you should. He takes you to his home, it's empty and lifeless, you think it speaks on the kind of man he is, you're not sure if it should scare you. You linger in the entryway unsure of what to do, it feels strange to be in a home, strange in a way you never thought it could. You feel out of place, uncomfortable, there's something inside you screaming, telling you to run away. Unfortunately, you don't want to play the cards you've been dealt and now you're forced to draw. Perhaps it's a mistake, if it is you're not sure you care.

"You jus' goin' to stand there bird?" Simon's voice startles you, pulling you out of your dazed state.

"Sorry…" You're quiet, a bit shy even, and you're not sure how to feel about the smirk that grows on Simon's face at your discomfort.

"Nothin' to apologize for," He says gruffly. "Come inside." So you do. Shuffling your feet against the wooden floorboards as you make your way over to him.

He guides you into the kitchen, a rough hand on your lower back as he silently urges you to take a sit in a small dining chair. You don't move for a moment so he drags the chair out for you, it's wooden legs screeching against the floor. He stares at you as you settle and you can't quite tell what he's looking for. You're in such a vulnerable state, emotionally rubbed raw, and physically you're sure you're much weaker than before. It's scary, and with his gaze your palms begin to sweat.

You wonder if this is what being prey feels like? Bottom of the food chain; the weakest link.

Simon feels much like a predator, stalking you, watching you. At any moment he could decide to rip you open, take whatever he wants from you, leaving your carcass behind as evidence of what he's done. He watches you for a few moments longer before his gravely voice breaks through the stillness.

"You must be hungry bird, why don' we get you somethin' to eat?" You nod at him timidly and he grunts back before turning around to rummage in his fridge.

"Don' have much to eat right now…" His voice trails off for a moment before it picks up again. "Can order take out, unless you're starvin' right this second." You shake your head at him, a pathetic 'no' escaping your lips. He tilts his head a bit and you realize 'no' may have been to vauge.

"I can wait." Your voice suddenly finds you again but it's still nothing more than a whisper.

He hums at you before picking up his phone and dialing a number. He places an order of what sounds like Chinese food and then hangs up the phone, the clacking of the screen against the tiled countertops causing you to cringe a bit.

"S' the only place open this late," He explains suddenly. "Would've asked you wha' you want but nothin' else is open." You shrug your shoulders and he chuckles at you.

"Timid thing you are, you know that bird?" You don't respond but he doesn't expect you to. Instead, he opens the fridge again, pulling out a half empty of beer before turning on his heels and walking over to his couch.

You watch as he sinks down into the cushions, the fabric stained and worn down, sipping on his beer while watching whatever happened to be on TV. You stay sat in his dining chair, eyes trained on his hulking figure sat on the couch, your body fidgeting in the uncomfortable piece of furniture. You want to speak but the words feel heavy on your tongue, to be honest you're not even sure what you'd say.

"You think loud." His gruff voice cuts through your dazed state and you jump in your seat.

"Sorry…" It's all you can think to say, you're not even sure what you're sorry for. You think maybe you're sorry for letting someone see you like this, weak and pathetic, sorry for letting him see you so timid and scared, not because you feel pity for him.

But because you pity yourself.

"Come on," He pats the small space next to him on the couch. "Doubt' you've had any good entertainment for a while… I know I haven't." The way he speaks sends a shive down your spine, the look in his eye nothing short of predatory. That's when it really clicks in your head that this man, Simon, isn't a good man. He didn't take you in because kindness blooms from his heart, he took you in because you're his prey, his pet.

You stare at him for a moment before shuffling over to the couch and plopping down into the stiff cushions. He makes a pleased sound at your obedience and it both fills you with butterflies and maggots, you feel disgusted at yourself for enjoying the scrap of praise he provides. You barely even know this man but every instinct in you is telling you to please him, to let him do what he wants to you, and in turn you get taken care of.

Or maybe, you'll only ensnare yourself more.

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Simon isn't sure how he's meant to take care of a stray like you. You're skittish, you jump at his voice and tense at his touch, it makes him grind his teeth together, struggling to resist the urge to sink his teeth into your soft skin until you submit. He doesn't want to scare, for once in his life he wants something soft to call his own, but the first step to caging a bird and clipping it's wings is getting it to trust you and he's truly lost on how to do that.

Logically, he know it will take time, but this is one of the rare moments he's not sure he has the strength in him to be patient. He knows he has to be, you're scared and playing the game of survival, pushing you too fast will only frighten you but it's hard for him to stray from his ways. Seldom can you teach an old dog new tricks.

Perhaps he needs help, someone who knows what scared little strays need to feel loved and safe. Simon has already bought you food, he really thought a clueless kitten like you would be cuddled up to him by now. He understands though, and one day you will too. He decides to ask Johnny, something he'd normally avoid doing but he's got a knack for taming strays.

Afterall he tamed Simon.

Once you've been bathed and fed he sent you off to sleep, ushering you into his tiny bedroom, gray bedsheets still tucked under the mattress. He thought it was cute that you felt guilty for taking the bed, and he had to assure you many times that it was alright and he'd be fine, though your pouty lip was quite the (unintentional) invitation to share the bed. When he was sure you were tucked in for the night he slipped out onto his balcony to call Johnny.

"Johnny." Simon could hear his own voice crackle through Johnny's side of the line.

"Lt! Callin me so late at night aye? M' I your booty call sir?" He could hear Soap chuckle on the other end of the line and he let out an exasperated sigh at that.

"Need your help Johnny." He can hear the Scotsman shift around a bit and he stifles a snort at the image of Johnny sitting up right in his chair over this.

"Aye, of course Ghost." Simon huffs out through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"How d'ya take care of a stray?"

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

Things have gotten better with Simon. He's still grumpy and stoic, and truthfully he treats you more like a pet than a person, but (not so) secretly you think you like it. At first you were worried he'd take advantage of your vulnerability but he never really did, you always did what he said and that kept Simon satisfied. On the rare occasion you messed something up or didn't do what he asked of you, he make a point not to yell at you, instead he'd squeeze you tight and lowly tell you to 'quit your cryin'.'

You would both make a point to ignore the shivers it sent down your spine.

Perhaps your unorthodox relationship with Simon wasn't the healthiest, you were entirely dependent on him and you both liked it that way. Simon made sure you knew you had freedom, he gave you many opportunities to take advantage of it but you never did and you think that was his plan all along. You were already broken, all he had to do was build you back up, shape you exactly the way he wanted, and then you'd never run.

Not that you think you'd want to either way.

He wasn't mean, or cruel, just a bit twisted and lonely. He never hurt you, or treated you unfairly, you were his bird, and he made sure you knew that.

As the months transpired you find that you've grown grossly infatuated with him. He took you in, nursed you back to health, gave you all the attention and love that you needed to blossom and now you're completely his. Simon had his issues, you had yours, but somehow they mesh together in a way that creates a peace rather than chaos. It was a mundane, domestic life that both of you were content with.

Perhaps if you were still the old you, you'd hate him more than anything, but you now understand broken people more intimately than anyone would ever want to, and somehow it's been the greatest gift life has handed to you. When Simon holds you close, squeezes you tight, and tells you how much you're his, you find it hard to do anything besides melt into him, to feel anything besides adoration.

You were two broken people that somehow made a whole, and you were lucky you did. It could've been so much worse, things could have been so much harder, but he saved you, and though he'd never say it out loud, you saved him too.

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

AHHH! I'm so freaking sorry for my absence, 12th grade is the year of dealing with many things so I've been super busy with it all! I wrote bits and pieces of this during my free time so it might not be entirely cohesive but I pray its good enough! Love and miss you all dearly <3 take care of yourself MWAH!!

as always likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[luminouslywriting]

hello, how are you feeling? Your Band of Brothers headcanons are amazing so I was wondering if you could do a headcanon of "how the guys would react if they were in a company-wide meeting and as soon as the reader walks in, they fall over", I feel like it would be a good idea Hahaha. Thank you very much for your attention on this request, I understand if you can't do it but I hope so.💕

Hey Nonny!! I'm doing much better today :) thank you for asking! How are you sweetheart? Sorry this has taken so long to get to! Hopefully you enjoy!

Cut for length, more under the cut, short paragraph form:

Dick Winters:

-This man is so embarrassed but he's doing his best to move on with the meeting and pretends like nothing happened. He really will just straight up have this moment haunt him though because he did NOT need to oust his crush on you that publicly to his men. An oomph moment for sure.

Lewis Nixon:

-Can easily play it off for kicks and giggles? He blames it on being tipsy and then just attempts to move on because he doesn't like people staring at him for too long, especially in his embarrassing moments. He also adds some light flirting into the conversation later.

Ronald Speirs:

-Literally doesn't fall over?? I'm sorry, but there's just no way that this man would do that unless he was intentionally tripped (and then someone is surely getting murdered haha).

Buck Compton:

-Slightly embarrassed but has his friends dust him off and plays it off with a joke about something more embarrassing from his college days. It unfortunately lives rent-free in his head though and now he's realizing that you saw that and you'll likely remember it forever. Oof for sure.

Carwood Lipton:

-Quickly gets back up and doesn't make a big deal about it. But on the inside? Oh this man is suppressing a major blush and is just trying to focus on the meeting at hand. If anyone ever brings it up to him in the future, he has a face of exasperation and has likely heard all of the jokes about it already.

Joe Liebgott:

-No one is surprised??? Like that man fell over so quickly when you walked in and they were all just *smh fr*. But he just tries to catch your attention and catch your eye during the meeting so he can figure out what you thought of the entire thing/if you'll ever give him a chance lol. The answer is yes, but he should just ask you himself.

Donald Malarkey:

-Gets teased relentlessly by his friends but he's lowkey too lovesick to care?? He's also just silently hoping that you didn't see him completely fall over because that was an accident and he was just leaning a little too far as he tried to watch you walk in. That's his bad, but hopefully you missed that.

Eugene Roe:

-Not a single person says anything. Not a single person even acts like they saw it. This man's embarrassing moment lives in only his own brain because not a single person thought it was because of you. And that's their medic who they respect the hell out of. He's slightly mortified and grumbling, but he'll get over it.

Bill Guarnere:

-Gets teased lightly by some close friends but he's out here with a death glare for anyone that tries to bring it up in general. He was also embarrassed and quickly got up. He shut up and paid attention during the meeting....but he also snuck looks over at you to make sure that you didn't see it haha.

Joe Toye:

-Not a single person dares to tease this man about it. He's ready to throw hands and bring up their embarrassing moments if they try. But there are a few people that might mention your name and your reaction to get a light level of blush on this man's face. Oops?

George Luz:

-Immediately shaded by everyone he's ever joked about. Immediately makes a joke to make everyone laugh and keep the situation light-hearted. And if you laugh at the joke? His fall was well worth it to see your smile or laugh haha.

[galacticrps]

His brow furrows at the ‘command,’ he noticed it the first time but hadn’t actually registered in his head what Strade was doing. He was ordering him around, snapping his fingers like he was supposed to listen to that. Like he was a pet. That didn’t sit well with him.

He heard the beep, seemingly coming from his collar, and then is led over to a door. The basement. The collar doesn’t go off now, as Ren had warned the other day. Strade must’ve turned something off so it didn’t.

“Right. Ok.” That’s simple enough. He’s pretty strong even if one might not think it at first, so he can do that without too much of an issue he thinks. But then he notices it. Strade did leave the door wide open. He stares for a moment too long. Strade had already disappeared out said door. Would he have another chance like this one? Especially since Ren said the collar would go off if he got too close to that door?

He’s thinking about it. He really is. He doesn’t know where this house is, or if he’d get far. He hadn’t gotten a good look outside until now… well, still really hasn’t, actually.

He wonders if Ren sees him right now. Sees how he’s looking. Debating.

He wants to grab Ren by the hand and drag him out the door too. But he knows Strade probably didn’t turn his collar off. Not if he wasn’t going to be helping. Would it just keep going off the entire time, or was it only in a certain proximity of the house? He can't afford to find that out.

He doesn’t want to just leave him here either though…

He’s taking way too long. He needs to make up his mind. Strade is probably going to be back in here any second now and is probably going to be irritated that he hasn’t done what he’d said.

If he runs, if he makes it far enough, maybe he can come back and get Ren somehow. He still has access to that site where they first met. Could message him on there.

He doesn’t think about the fact that Strade might not let Ren talk to him anymore if he does manage to escape.

Fuck it. He runs.

Runs like he had that first time, as fast as he can, except this time it’s not into Strade. Hopefully. He bolts out the door, and if there’s any protests from Ren or anything, he ignores them. I’m sorry, Ren, he thinks briefly. He’s not entirely sure why.

Special Treat

[zhongrin]

Miss rin, the al haitham and nahida comic you put out? It's not helping me in staying loyal to my husband tartaglia 😭 how are you able to elicit such responses from me no matter the medium?? Writing or through visual art, your art brings out the same reactions in me everytime without fail. The said reaction being squealing and giggling madly while kicking the air 😭

Sorry if this turned out to be too long but in short I just wanted to remind you that you're awesome and your blog makes me unfaithful to my man (Am I complaining idk... no I'm absolutely not complaining, tartaglia is ig)

Also thank you every delicious fic you put out for us, I kinda feel honoured that you choose to share your writing with us here... they're scrumptious (especially your angst fics oof I'm in love)

Have a great day and take care, miss rin! ❤❤❤

[ yan!mafia boss!al haitham + child!nahida x nanny!reader comic -> ]

(⸝⸝⸝O﹏ O⸝⸝⸝) uehdhejjfskjfsk mx naya you're a blessing to me fr <3 everytime i see you in my notifs i go "!!! *imaginary ears perk up & tail starts helicopter-ing*"

ngl your first paragraph is making me brainrot even more…. forgive me for the word vomit below oops

cw. yandere, implied kidnapping

childe who's one of the executives under tsaritsa, another mafia family that rules snezhnaya. this man gives me obsessed yandere stalker vibes, but at the very least his upbringing makes him respect you enough to not make it your problem.

... that is, until he stalks you one day and saw you coming out of a luxury penthouse… and al haitham's seeing you off.

the thread holding his restraints snap.

childe is a protector through and through. he's only doing this so you'll be safe. you're none the wiser to what kind of man al haitham is, but that's okay! you have him! his hands might not be clean either ー heck, he probably has more blood in his hands personally compared to al haitham, but he can take care of you better, that he can promise! he'll be with you 24/7 unless he needs to go out of a mission! he'll cook you your favorite foods, he's practiced enough times to be able to make it blindfolded by now! he knows how many pillows and bolsters and blankets and plushies and the kind of pajamas that'll let you sleep the deepest, he has the same soap and shampoo and moisturizer you use daily in his place, he has a wardrobe full of clothes in your style he knows you'd like and the accessories you've pined through transparent glass because you had to save moneyー you see?

you'll be happy with him. so you understand why he has to do this, right?

Right?

[adventuresinpyjamas]

yes I know, I'm late, that is my bad... I was so depressed this morning. never fear though because I just turned myself into a vampire and it helped

I have a QotD! (question now)(or 2)

Are you studying STEM (or STEAM, i fw that), Humanities, or what? What do you enjoy about the structure of learning in your subject, and what are you jealous of in others?

personally, as a humanities student primarily (arch is too humanities to be considered STEM by STEM, and too STEM to be considered humanities by humanities), sometimes I get jealous of people who have to study for exams, like in the good old fashioned route memorisation with flashcards and stuff... sometimes my brain just needs a break and to ingrain what I know directly into my subconscious. I get burnt out from writing essay after essay after essay, especially when my discipline at my university is notoriously difficult to get HDs (7s or As) in with essays. Sometimes I just want to learn, absorb and retain rather than have to create, yk? probably only bc I'm burnt out rn tho

Day 16 /28

124

to do

edit and cut down section of essay on Newes (again)

add to section based on the new docs found? (I think I will so it's not just a source analysis)

sift through bibliography to find sources

run/walk

once again I have added more that needs to be footnoted, so get onto that

email prof

see people (I'm going insane again)

write paragraph on Fian

write paragraph on daemonologie

make sure my essay answers a fucking question for the love of god

CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT (it is time to start culling words because I have no intro/ conclusion/ Daemonologie paragraphs and my wc is like 4.5k)

Aim for:

write intro and conclusion

cite as much as I can

choose semester subjects or AT LEAST look at pre-reading for Tudors and Rome

bibliography hhhhhhhh

I am sitting at the library and I look like a vampire for accountability, the only thing that is ruining my Dark Academic (tm) look is my massive fuckin computer....

also I realised yesterday how much I HATE using computers to study, I function so much better on physical paper... rip to me I should never have started taking notes on paper at age 10

Duo

3/3 lessons

0/7 spoken exercises

5/5 80% or higher

Forest

0/1 any tree

0/45 mins any tree

0/80 mins Plum Blossom (not a chance it is locked still)

sorry for the insanely long post btw oops

[emeraldiis]

citizen’s arrest (Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader)

A/N: i’m so down bad for this man i’m so sorry for this

EXPLICIT/MDNI

AO3 Link

Summary: After a long day of riling each other up, the tension between you and Leon finally snaps, but not in the way he’s expecting.

sub!leon, bondage, slight edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, making leon cry bc he feels so good <3

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: some light recreational drug use at the beginning. just pot, and only for a few paragraphs so it’s easy to skip over if you’d like!

Leon eyed you from the other side of the couch, arms folded across his chest and lips curled in a familiar smirk. With one eyebrow raised, he gestured to the joint in your hand. “I could have you arrested for that, y’know.” He said cheekily. He was teasing, trying to get under your skin. Had been all night.

It was a game you played with him often. A cat and mouse. It’d started this morning, when he’d chastised you for speeding on the way to the grocery store, then again for jaywalking when you darted across a near-empty road without bothering to use the crosswalk. By then, you’d caught on. You knew exactly what he wanted when he scolded you like that, faking irritation at things he deemed “crimes.” He wanted you to act up. More specifically, he wanted you to give him a reason to break out those steel handcuffs of his at the end of the day.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips to the paper, inhaling gently. Truth be told, you were pushing it. Although he technically wasn’t a cop anymore, he still had the authority to actually arrest you. But that had just made it all the more thrilling when you had brought out the pot, giggling at Leon’s scandalized expression. He didn’t really have a problem with it, but it was a bold move, nonetheless.

The high was seeping into your system already, loosening your muscles and giving the room a hazy glow. Your inhibitions were at an all time low, and the warmth pooling in your stomach urged you to finish the game, to bring it to an end so you could finally feel his touch. You knew you’d probably catch hell for the smoking, and the thought nearly made you shiver. But you figured, if you were already in for a punishment, might as well earn it.

In a single motion, you turned and swung a leg over Leon’s lap, settling yourself across his legs gracefully. You watched his blue eyes widen, then flutter shut as you leaned closer. As his lips parted in anticipation for a kiss, you exhaled softly. Smoke poured from your lungs, across his tongue. Long fingers flew to your hips in surprise, tightening enough to bruise. The contact made you sigh, and your breath hitched as his shaky exhale wafted across your face. It wasn’t nearly enough to get him high, but that hadn’t been your intention anyway. No, you just wanted him to snap, to teach you a lesson like he’d been threatening to all day.

Inhaling deeply through your nose to steady your nerves, you leaned back and watched as Leon’s eyes snapped open, then narrowed at you. He tightened his jaw, blush spread high on his cheeks, creeping down his neck. Before he had a chance to speak, you smirked, and said, “Oops, now you’re guilty, too. Do I need to perform a citizen’s arrest, officer?”

Leon swallowed hard before answering, eyes raking shamelessly along your body. “You, uh,” he took a shaky breath, trying again, “That’s not how it works.”

The quiver in his voice took you by surprise. You’d expected anger, for him to grab you by your hair and drag you roughly to the bedroom. His meekness was uncharted territory. Hell, you’d never even seen him flustered before. Leon was the epitome of composure, even on the nights he spent taking you apart, voice low and even as he whispered filthy promises. And as much as you tried to get to him, the furthest you ever got was the soft, breathy moans he let slip when he was close.

His teeth dug into his bottom lip, eyelids sinking further down until he gazed at you from under his lashes. You knew that look well. As subtle as it was, there was intent behind it. That look meant that he’d realized his mistake, and was set on regaining the upper hand.

But you were a dog with a bone. Just one falter of his bravado had you intrigued, had proven that there was a treasure under all that control. You wanted, no, needed, to see more.

Despite your newfound obsession, you still considered it. Leon was generous when he took the reins, and you couldn’t deny that you were tempted. Especially when one of his hands left your hip to pluck the joint from your fingertips, then stretched to extinguish it in the ashtray on the end table. But there was something in the way he sighed when his hand returned to the skin between your shorts and tank top. There was a hint of impatience behind the noise, and it drove you wild.

So instead of melting against him like he expected, you sat straighter, brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “I dunno, I don’t think I can just let you go. Someone has to uphold the law here.” You said. You’d feel silly, if it weren’t for the way his rapidly filling cock twitched under you at the subtle threat.

He chuckled, the sound breathy, and leaned in to nuzzle your palm. “Oh, is that right?” His hands tugged at your hips as if to coax you to roll them, and you allowed yourself a few moments of relief. The soft drag of tented sweatpants across the dampening seat of your shorts made you gasp, and you had to force yourself to stop.

“Yeah, so knock it off and keep still,” you scolded, grasping his wrists and placing his hands at his sides. What you suspected was a protest died on his lips as you brushed your lips across his ear and whispered, “Be good for me.”

It was impossible to miss the sharp buck of his hips. He stilled them immediately, pressing them back into the couch as if to overcompensate for his slip. You leaned back again, a frown on your face despite the excitement brimming under your skin. “I said keep still.”

“Mm, and what if I don’t want to do that?” He did his best to sound unfazed, defiant, but he kept his hands where you told him to, and didn't press against you again. But really, the dead giveaway that he was more into this than he was letting on was the way his breath hitched when your palm settled at the base of his neck.

Such a quiet sound, not much louder than a whisper, but it sent a thrill up your spine. You applied a bit of pressure, and Leon’s eyes flew up to meet yours. There was still a fire left behind them, a sharp hunger in his blown pupils that reminded you how fragile your command over him was. Like a caged lion; one sign of weakness, and he’d rip you to shreds.

So you steeled your resolve, grinning lazily. “If you don’t like this, then why can I feel you throbbing against my ass?”

Leon clenched his jaw. Twitch. “I—“

Whatever complaint he was about to make died as the hand not on his neck came up to rub gently at his cheek. “It’s okay,” you cooed, using the same condescending tone that he’d used on you so many times. “I’ll give you what you need.”

You could tell how close he was to giving in; you’d worn that same look of desperate need far too many times in his presence. Brows furrowing, mouth pressed in a tight line, eyes struggling to stay locked on yours. So far gone, and you’d barely even touched him. You hardly noticed that you were just staring until he spoke up.

“Like what you see?” He said, his grip on his composure slipping further, but lingering. When you took a moment to respond, he shifted under you impatiently and finally broke eye contact. “C’mon, baby. Don’t jus’ stare at me all night.”

“But you’re so pretty,” you said softly, and dipped down to trail kisses along his jawline.

Leon sighed contentedly and tipped his head back to allow you better access. When you reached a small patch of skin just below his ear, you bit. Not too hard, but far from gentle.

He choked on a surprised moan, just like you knew he would. His hand rose to stroke up and down your back, instinctively pressing your body closer. You tsk’ed in annoyance and sat back once again. “I didn’t want to have to do this, officer. But you’ve left me with no choice.” Sliding off of his lap and standing earned you a frustrated huff, but he almost growled when your hand latched around his wrist and yanked him up. “You’re going to have to come with me.”

He followed wordlessly as you led him by the wrist to the bedroom. There was a brimming electricity in the air, and you could feel your heart speed up as you motioned for him to get on the bed. He was oddly quiet, but obeyed nonetheless. When he was comfortably stretched out, propped up on his elbows, you moved to stand at the end of the bed.

Leon’s eyes tracked your every move as you made a show of peeling off your tank top, then tugging off your shirts until you were left in nothing but soaked panties. You crawled onto the bed slowly, half-expecting him to grab you and ruin your plans. But he kept still, hands twitching by his sides, lip caught between his teeth.

You had half a mind to reach into the nightstand drawer for the cuffs, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do any good to rush this; you needed to ease him into it.

As soon as you were close enough, he pushed himself further up on his arms to meet you in a bruising kiss. You let him lick into your mouth without protest, only pausing for a moment to help him pull his shirt up and off, tossing it aside carelessly. Sitting back in his lap and shifting your hips to get comfortable, you smoothed your hands over his chest. He made a soft sound against your lips at both the gentle touch and the pressure against his straining cock. Every bit of ground you gained, every clue to his crumbling restraint was like music to your ears. In a search for more, you pulled away to kiss down his neck.

You lost count of the marks you’d bitten into his skin. You were drunk on the way he squirmed and sighed with every suckling kiss, the way his hips tilted subtly into yours in an attempt to find friction.

Already feeling yourself getting carried away, you pulled back to calculate your next move.

Leon pouted when you detached your mouth from his neck. “Why’d you stop, angel?” He asked, voice infuriatingly steady. He was back to seduction, already sitting up straighter to reach your breasts with his lips. His hand came to a rest at your lower back, and it was a pleasant, if unwelcome heat.

You nearly toppled off of his lap trying to dodge his greedy mouth. His hand at your back pressed in hard and steadied you before you fell, but the narrow of his eyes suggested he was mere seconds away tackling you off of the bed himself. Weighing your options, you finally decided to just go for it. If you didn’t do something quick, he’d turn the tables before you knew it.

Bracing your hands behind you on Leon’s thighs, you leaned as far back as he allowed and gave him a coy look. “I thought I said no touching.” Your eyes darted over to the nightstand drawer. “Do I need to detain you?”

He reluctantly pulled his hand away and stared up at you for a moment, processing. His pupils were blown, leaving only a sliver of sapphire blue. They drifted over, following yours, then snapped back up in understanding. Leon laughed nervously, shifting under you. The fading blush on his face bloomed again, and when he cleared his throat, you hesitated.

“Ah, sorry,” you said dumbly, grimacing. “If that isn’t something you’re comfortable with-“

You were interrupted by a pair of lips slamming into yours as he lunged forward. Leon’s hands flew up to hover behind you; he didn’t touch, didn't break the rules, but they were there to ensure you didn’t lose your balance in the frantic motion.

He kissed you breathless, and everything else faded into the background when his tongue shoved into your mouth. You were too caught up in his desperate affection to protest. A breathy moan escaped you when Leon retreated, nipping at your bottom lip in the process.

“What, can’t handle me without restraints?”

It was a challenge, and you grinned wolfishly as you shoved him back down. His back hit the mattress, a soft rush of air leaving his lungs. “Call it a fail safe,” you said, already leaning over to open the drawer and grabbing the cuffs.

He hesitated briefly when you dangled them in front of yourself, then slowly raised his arms above his head. Despite the daring look in his eyes, you could sense trepidation. “Is this really okay?”

The last of his confidence fell away at your question, and his eyes softened in embarrassment. “Yeah, it is. I’ve just never, uh, been on this side of it.”

You rested your hands on his ribs and rubbed your thumbs in small circles across his skin in what you hoped was a soothing motion. “Just say the word, and we’ll stop,” you said gently.

He nodded and pressed his wrists together, signaling that he was ready.

Slowly, giving him enough time to stop you if he needed to, you reached up to close one cuff over his wrist, loop the chain through the headboard, and secure his other hand. Once you were satisfied that he wouldn’t be able to slip out, you sat back and searched his face for any signs of discomfort. “Too tight?”

Leon hummed and tugged lightly at the cuffs, then shook his head. “No, they’re fine.” His hips pressed restlessly up into you, the hard line of his bulge grinding against your clothed pussy. “What’re you gonna do to me?” He seemed to be a bit more relaxed now, arching an eyebrow and staring you down expectantly.

You shivered, wondering if you’d ever get used to the intense gaze of those baby blues. But you were far from finished, so you reigned in your own arousal and stepped off the bed for a moment to slide off your panties. You didn’t waste any time clambering back on the bed, crawling up until you were straddling his face and bracing your hands on the headboard. “You were awfully mean to me today, so I think you should start by making it up to me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathed, staring wide eyed up at your soaked heat. In all honesty, sitting on his face was more of a reward than anything else. There were very few things he loved more than your thighs wrapped around his head, nearly smothering him as he buried himself in your folds. A sharp rattle startled you, then made you grin as you realized he was straining to touch you against the cuffs. “Sit the fuck down already,” he growled impatiently.

Well, you were about to lower yourself, but his tone made you pause. “So bossy,” you scolded, letting go of your hold on the headboard to toy with the chain linking his wrists. “You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands.”

Leon was silent for a moment, but you could feel the growing frustration emanating off of him. “Sit the fuck down, please,” he said finally.

It was far from polite, but you figured it was good enough. Without warning, you dropped down onto his face. You weren’t worried about hurting him, he’d proven time and time again that your full weight on his face was what he wanted. Usually, he’d grab at your hips and thighs to press you down harder onto his face, but all he could do now was lick desperately into your cunt.

There was no buildup. He dove straight in, tongue swiping roughly across your clit and then down to dip into your entrance. With a strained groan, you dropped your head, panting as you stared down at him. His eyes caught yours instantly, and they flashed darkly before they drifted shut.

He moaned breathlessly when you ground yourself down against him, the vibrations making you whine. You’d always suspected that he laid the noises on thick when his mouth was between your legs just to rile you up further, but a quick glance behind you told a different story. The tent in his sweatpants was twitching almost violently, leaving him with a damp spot as his hips arched up into nothing.

Through the haze of pleasure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d been so neglected. Moaning softly in reluctance, you raised yourself up off of his face.

Leon whined and chased you as far as his bound hands allowed, which wasn’t very far. “No, come back,” he pleaded. The headboard shook as he tugged at the cuffs again.

“Relax,” you said, trying to slow your breathing. “Just turning around.” A little gracelessly, you swung a leg over and turned so that you were facing towards his lower body. You couldn’t see his face like this, but it was a small price to pay for the noises you were about wring from him.

It was easy to spot the moment when Leon realized what was about to happen, because he cursed harshly and writhed under you. It wasn’t often that you found yourselves in this position, but it always turned into a game of who could unravel the other first. He typically won, but tonight you had the upper hand.

You had to suck in a breath and steady yourself when you lowered back down onto his face. Like before, he wasted no time in devouring you, plush lips pulling and sucking at your clit and making you cry out.

Panting hard, you bent at the waist and dropped down onto your elbows. At first, you didn’t grant him the relief of fully undressing him. You simply pulled his sweatpants down to his thighs and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the damp fabric of his boxers. He choked out a muffled gasp beneath you, hips twitching up when you licked messily at where the tip would be.

He couldn’t sit still, legs trembling as he fought the urge to grind roughly against your mouth. With a pained groan, he nipped ever so gently at your clit, a demand to get on with it already.

Greedy for his pleasure as well as your own, you finally pulled him free from his boxers and slid them down to join his pants. His cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the head shining from where he’d been making a mess in his clothes, and your mouth watered.

When your lips made contact with him, he rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust of his tongue into your quivering cunt. You gasped out a moan, and then, not to be outdone, took him to the hilt in one go.

As always, you couldn’t suppress the gag at his huge cock pressing deep in your throat. He let out a strangled whine, and you forced yourself to relax and breathe through your nose. Easier said than done, given that he was still lapping eagerly at your pussy, edging you closer and closer to bliss.

Starting into a quick rhythm, you rolled your hips against his face, chasing your release as you bobbed your head.

His hips were relentless when they pushed up into your mouth, and you knew your voice would be ruined when you finished, but you didn’t care. All that mattered were the muffled moans vibrating against you, and the hot glide of his tongue.

When his thighs began to shake and his hips stumbled in their needy rhythm, you knew he was as close as you were. You pulled off of him with a gasp to say in a rasped growl, “Don’t even t-think about cumming.”

He whimpered—whimpered, into you, the sound nearly sending you over the edge right then and there. You returned your mouth to his cock with a strangled noise, moving with renewed fervor.

With a near sob, muscles tensing and twitching as he tried to hold on, Leon pressed his face as hard as he could manage. You weren’t sure how he was able to breathe, but you didn’t let up. Not when his head was tilting down and he was catching your clit with his nose on every roll of your hips.

The pressure made your eyes roll back, and your hands flew to claw into his hips as you nearly collapsed onto him. Pulling off to suck in a pained gasp, you cried out. “L-leon, fuck.” The heat was ratcheting higher and higher, sweat beading at your forehead and body trembling. “‘m gonna cum, Leon, right there!”

Your back arched up as your orgasm crested, the walls of your cunt throbbing over and over again. Each wave of pleasure drew a whine of overstimulation from your lips as Leon refused to let up. He moaned desperately, drinking in your release like it was water to a dying man. The muscles of his stomach went taut as his hips snapped up. It was a testament to his everlasting self control that he was able to bite back his own climax.

Leon lapped up your slick as it could grant him the relief he needed, and it wasn’t long before you were whining and squirming away. “G-good boy,” you panted, lifting yourself away from him.

He fell back against the pillows and gasped for air, and you watched blearily as another drop of precum welled at the head of his cock. On quaking legs, you spun back around to face him.

If you looked up pussydrunk in the dictionary, you were sure you’d find an image of Leon’s face exactly as it was right now. His lips were swollen and shiny from your wetness, his eyes glassed over, chest rising and falling rapidly with desperate pants. “You did—“ you broke off to shudder with a final after shock. “You did so well, so good for me.”

Leon melted at the praise, eyelids fluttering and mouth parting in a needy sigh. “Yeah?” He mumbled, half delirious. “You—you gonna let me fuck you now?”

Your mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smirk. As beautiful as he was undone like that, you still needed one more thing from him. “Say please, pretty boy.”

The handcuffs clacked together. “C’mon, I know you need it, too.” Hardheaded as always.

But he was right; you needed him inside of you like you needed air. Even so, you weren’t giving up that easily. With a grin, you sat your soaked pussy down on his cock. Not in, of course. All you did was pin it between his tense stomach and you, but it still made him jolt.

“Holy sh—mmh,” he groaned, hips already trying to fuck his cock through your slick folds. “So wet.”

“All you gotta do is ask nice,” you said breathlessly. The thick head of his shaft rubbed deliciously against you, and your hips bucked, catching the tip of him on the very edge of your hole.

Leon nearly splintered the headboard with how hard he yanked, and you had a brief flash of worry for his poor wrists. “Fine, fuck, fine. Please, let me fuck you. Please.”

Your head whirled with the rush of power. “Good boy,” you praised, and promptly took every inch of him inside your wet cunt. Your voice broke off in a high moan of pain and pleasure as he stretched you, echoing his near howl.

“Please move please move please—“

His back arched as you ground down, head thrown back in the pillows. You braced your hands on his chest and began a slow rhythm, humming at the friction. He pulsed within you, eyebrows drawing together tight as he chewed on his lower lip.

“You feel so good,” you moaned, letting yourself get lost in the steady grind, the back and forth drag of his cock against your sweet spot. “So fucking pretty, always make me feel so good.”

The praise made Leon shudder, almost violently. He huffed and dug his heels into the mattress, slipping as he attempted to buck into you. “Hah, fuck. Faster, please?” The begging was coming easier to him now, it seemed. And it sounded just as beautiful as you’d hoped.

Rewarding him, you sped up your movements until you were bouncing in a punishing rhythm. Already, you could feel yourself hurtling to a near frightening precipice. It built in your pelvis until you were sobbing, clawing at Leon’s chest for even an ounce of sanity. “G-gonna cum again,” you managed to say through your helpless whimpers.

Leon nodded swiftly, finally finding his footing and matching your pace with sharp thrusts. His mouth hung open, eyes fully unfocused now. They drifted down to your breasts, to the roll of your hips, to the sink of his cock into your tight heat. Finally, he settled from staring adoringly up at your face. It made you melt.

“Mmh, ahn, can I—fuck!” A clench of your walls around him had Leon crying out shamelessly. He sucked in a deep breath, jaw working as he fought to speak. “Can I cum with you? Please?”

Your throat was too tight to respond. All that came out was a bitten off whine as you began to tip over the edge.

When your hips stuttered and your cunt began to pulse in quick bursts of electricity, Leon wailed. Head thrown back, eyes rolling, body trembling. “Please, I can’t,” he sobbed. “I’m gonna—I can’t.”

You barely heard him through the ringing in your ears from your second peak, but you somehow found the awareness to lean down to smash your lips to his. “F-fill me up, baby.”

He was helpless against your demand. “Oh my god, oh, fuck,” he babbled, entire body locking as his back snapped up. “C-cumming,” was all he managed to get out as he fell to pieces.

And it really was a gorgeous sight. He fought hard to keep his eyes on you, even as the waves of bliss forced full body spasms through his muscles. Choking on whimpers and gasps, he convulsed, working you through your own aftershocks with the involuntary bucking of his hips. Hot cum painted your walls and seeped out, and the filth of it all sent you sky high.

You switched to a gentle grind as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed back into the mattress. Even that small motion was threatening to overwhelm him, making him whine high in his throat.

As exhausted as you were, you still weren’t sated. Surprising even yourself, you again picked up the pace of your rolling hips, relishing in the overstimulated fire that burned in your nerves. “Gimme one more, sweet boy,” you murmured down to your trembling lover.

You knew he could. He’d done it before, catching you by complete surprise the first time. He’d simply kept going after spilling into you, growling and moaning as he forced another peak from himself. “Party trick,” he’d said in response to your wide eyes after he finally came to a stop.

Leon twitched and whimpered again, shaking his head as you began to bounce on his still-hard cock again. “N-no, wait,” he begged, eyes squeezing shut.

You halted immediately, and placed a comforting hand on his chest. “Sorry, sorry. We can be done, baby.”

To your shock, he shook his head again. “D-don’t stop, I just,” he looked away in embarrassment, face red. “Can you uncuff me? Wanna hold you.”

Your eyes softened as you gazed lovingly down at him. “Of course, baby,” you whispered, reaching over to grab the key from the nightstand. You reached up to unlock the cuffs in an instant, and he rubbed at his aching wrists while you set the handcuffs aside.

“‘m good now,” he mumbled, already grabbing at your hips to coax you back into your rhythm.

“You sure?” You asked as you began to move again. Your hands came up to cup his face, and he nuzzled into the touch.

Nosing at your palm happily, he moaned out, “Yes, now mm—make me c-cum again.”

As much as you were enjoying this, your sensitive body could only take so much more. Every movement of your hips sent shockwaves up your spine, and you knew it wouldn’t take much to send you over the edge again.

Leon wasn’t much better off. He was whining, hands leaving your hips to grab at your shoulders and pull you in to clutch you close to his chest.

Your lips found his once again. He was grabbing at you everywhere, your hair, your waist, your thighs. You moaned at the attention, but pulled back when you felt wetness hit your cheek. Leon’s eyes were red rimmed, overstimulated tears brimming and spilling over. “Y-you okay?”

“Yes,” he hissed, trying to catch your lips again. “G-gonna cum again, ah, oh god, d-don’t stop.”

Even with his trembling, he managed to work a hand in the tight space between your bodies until he could rub tight circles around your clit.

It was shamefully quick, but that small action alone sent you crying out into your third release of the night.

That was all Leon could take before he was burying his face in your neck and spilling into you, teeth sinking down hard just below your ear. His wrecked moans and spasming body worked you through your own pleasure, and you clung tight to him as you waited for your legs to stop shaking. As you rode the high for as long as you could, you whispered sweet words and praises into Leon’s ear. “You did so well, baby. So good for me, my good boy.”

All he responded with was a quiet sigh and one more soft noise of absolute ecstasy as he held you tight against him.

It felt like a lifetime before your head stopped spinning enough to sit up. Both of you let out whines at the sensitivity as you slipped off of him and rolled to his side. A gush of cum slipped from you, wetting your thighs and the sheets, but you were too exhausted to mind.

“Do you need anything, sweets? Water, a shower?”

He shook his head. “In a minute, just wanna lay with you for a sec’.”

Leon was sniffling, wiping at his damp cheeks. You reached for him and tugged until his head was on your chest, cushioned by your soft breasts. “That was…” you trailed off.

“So fucking good,” he finished for you, burying his face in your skin.

You stroked his hair idly and hummed. “You liked it, then?”

With a shuddering sigh, Leon chuckled, the sound raspy and low. “Didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did, but…yeah. Yeah, I really liked it.” He sat up a bit, looking up to give you a sleepy smile. “But tomorrow I’m going to get you back double, capiche?”

Your eyes widened. “But I-“

He cut you off with a smirk and tapped the tip of your nose with his pointer finger. “Nope, no buts. I’m gonna make you cry.”

And because you were apparently a glutton for punishment, you scoffed. “What, like you did?”

He laughed again, and you knew you were in for it when he simply cuddled closer to you and kissed at your overheated skin. “Nah, not like that.” His grin was damn near predatory when he looked back up. “Tomorrow, you’re gonna see what crying really is.”