#takes a dab out of desperation for pain relief

[killerplink]

DEVOUR

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 2,8k

Plot: After a brutal night on patrol, Dick comes home sore, bruised, and aching for relief. You take it upon yourself to help him unwind.

CW: 18+, smut, established relationship, deep throating, cum swallowing, masturbation, finger fucking, a bit of fluff ✨

Dick stumbles through the front door sometime after midnight, looking like he's been through hell and back, and he might as well have been. Blüdhaven never lacks crime, never gives him a break, and he's always out there fighting it, night after night, no matter how much it wears him down.

The suit is scuffed, his lip is split, and you know he's sore just from the way he moves—stiff, tense, muscles wound tight from the night's work. But no matter how brutal the night gets, his favorite part of every day is always the same—coming home to you.

"Dick, baby, you look like shit," you murmur, but there's no bite in it, just worry, just love.

He chuckles, breathless, kicking off his boots. "Feel like it, too."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours softly, but you notice the way he winces slightly, just the faintest hint of pain behind his expression. His hand presses against the couch for support, his body still heavy with exhaustion and soreness. But even as he winces, his kiss is tender, a stark contrast to the tension in his muscles.

He doesn't let it stop him, though. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slowly slipping into your mouth, desperate to feel something other than pain, something that can make him forget about the night's brutality.

You reach up, cupping his face gently, your thumb brushing across his jaw. His skin is warm and smooth, feeling soft under your touch. You kiss him back slowly, savoring the taste of him, the way his lips move against yours despite the ache in his body.

The tension in him fades with your touch, his breath soft as he exhales. You let your fingers trace along his face, grounding him, showing him without words that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.

A hot shower helps, washing away the blood and grime, easing some of the ache. When he steps out, towel slung low on his hips, you're already waiting, first-aid kit open, ready to tend to the bruises and scrapes he can't just sleep off.

"Sit, baby."

He obeys, spreading his legs slightly as he settles onto the couch. You step between them, your fingers gentle as you dab at the cut above his brow, then move lower, tending to the scrape along his ribs.

His hands—large, warm, still calloused from the night's work—find your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin. There's nothing overtly sexual about it, not at first, just quiet affection, just him touching you because he needs to, grounding himself in the warmth of your body.

You don't miss the way his eyes soften, the way he looks at you, like you're the only thing that matters. Like you're the only reason he comes home. Your touch is careful, practiced, but he still hisses when you press an alcohol wipe to his skin.

"Sorry," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, soothing him the way you always do.

And maybe it's the way he melts under you, or maybe it's just the way he looks—hair damp, muscles flexing under your touch, towel still hanging precariously off his hips—but fuck, you want him.

Want to make him forget about the pain, the bruises, the tension still lingering in his body.

So you press another soft kiss to his jaw, then lower, lips grazing his throat, his muscular chest. His breath stutters as you sink to your knees between his legs, fingers trailing over his stomach, teasing along the waistband of his towel.

"Baby," he murmurs, voice already strained, already knowing.

You tilt your head, blinking up at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, though your hands are anything but. One tug, and the towel falls open, his cock already half-hard, lying heavy against his thigh.

Pretty, just like the rest of him.

Because even his dick is beautiful—long, thick, flushed a deep shade of pink at the tip, veins running along his shaft, curving just slightly in a way that always hits just right inside you.

He's gorgeous everywhere, even here, even like this, leaking precum and twitching under your touch, aching to be inside you, to stretch your needy cunt open and fill you up just the way you love.

You hum, dragging your fingers up his length, tracing the veins, teasing the flushed, leaking tip with your thumb. He throbs under your touch, jaw clenching as his breath hitches.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock, tasting the first bead of precum. "Let me take care of you, baby."

And then you part your lips and take him in.

His head drops back against the couch with a low groan, fingers threading into your hair as you sink down, slow and deliberate, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him deeper. The stretch of him on your tongue is perfect, thick and heavy, and you moan around him just because you can't help it.

His cock is so big in your mouth, your lips stretched wide around him, your jaw already aching as you push yourself further down his length. He's barely even halfway in, but you don't stop—you need this, need to make him fall apart for you.

"F-fuck, that mouth—"

His grip in your hair tightens, not pushing, just holding, like he needs the anchor, like the pleasure is already threatening to pull him under. You work him slow at first, sucking, licking, teasing your tongue along the underside of his dick just to feel the way he shudders.

But you don't hold back for long—you can't. Not when he sounds so good, not when he's gripping the couch like he's barely holding on.

So you take a breath, relax your throat, and sink down.

His gasp is sharp, raw, his hips jerking just slightly as his cock slides deep, deeper, past your tongue, past your gag reflex, until your nose is flush against his pelvis. Your throat clenches around him, and his entire body shakes.

"Holy fuck—"

The thought barely registers in his head before you swallow, your throat tightening around his cock, sucking him down like you need it, like you're fucking starving for him.

"Jesus," he rasps, breath shuddering, "fuck, baby—"

Your nails dig into his thigh as you bob your head, deep throating him over and over, your throat stretched perfectly around him. He's never felt anything like it—so fucking hot and wet and tight, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock just right.

You're gonna fucking ruin him.

His jaw clenches, his abs tightening as he fights the urge to just fuck your throat, to chase the heat of it, to feel you struggle and choke around his dick. But you're already pushing yourself, already moaning like you love it, like you need this just as much as he does.

And that's what kills him the most—the way you enjoy this, the way you look at him, your eyes all hazy and desperate as you take him deeper, your throat convulsing around his cock.

Then you pull back just enough to take a breath, spit trailing from your lips to his length as you stroke him, looking up at him with those eyes, so fucked-out, so eager.

"You taste so fucking good," you murmur, tongue flicking over the head of his cock, licking up his precum. "Even your dick is perfect."

He laughs, breathless, wrecked. "Jesus, baby—"

Then you're back on him, sucking hard, letting him feel just how much you love this—love him. You moan around his dick, the vibrations making him curse, making his grip tighten in your hair.

But you need something too. Your free hand dips between your thighs, pushing your panties to the side, rubbing slow circles against your clit before sinking two fingers into your soaked cunt.

It's not enough, not even close. Your fingers are too short, too small, and they'll never stretch you like his do, never reach as deep as his cock does, but it's something, something to take the edge off as you swallow him down, your lips stretched wide around his cock.

Dick notices immediately. His eyes—half-lidded, dark with lust—flick down to where your hand moves between your legs.

"Are you—" his breath shudders out of him as you suck him deeper. "Fuck—touching yourself?"

You nod, moaning around his cock, your fingers fucking into your soaked cunt, the slick sound obscene as you work yourself open.

"That's—" his voice breaks on a groan as you take him deeper, nose pressing to his pelvis. "That's so fucking hot, baby—"

You don't give him a choice.

His cock throbs on your tongue, his abs tightening as you work him harder, faster, chasing his release as you fuck yourself with your fingers, already so close.

His grip in your hair tightens, tugging just enough to pull you back. And he fucking growls, fingers tangling in your hair. "Baby, I'm gonna—"

You take him back down, sucking him deep, moaning as you work your fingers faster inside yourself, already on the edge. He curses, hips jerking as he loses it, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat as his entire body tenses.

You swallow everything, moaning around him, letting him feel just how much you love this—love him. His cum coats your tongue, salty, thick, filling your mouth before you swallow it all, dragging your lips off his cock with a filthy, wet pop.

And that's it—that's it—the taste of him, the wrecked, desperate look in his eyes as you lick your lips, the way his cum still lingers on your tongue.

You whimper, fucking yourself faster, harder, hips grinding against your own fingers until you snap—a ragged, breathless cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure hits hard. Your swollen clit pulses, heat rushing through your body in waves, your cunt clenching down on your fingers, desperate for something more, something bigger, something his.

Your fingers work you through it, slick dripping down your thighs, soaking your hand as you shudder and moan, your body trembling, overstimulated and aching for him even as your orgasm ravages you.

And fuck, the way he watches you—eyes dark, lips parted, his still-sensitive cock twitching at the sight of you falling apart just from sucking him off. His jaw tightens, breath caught in his throat as his gaze locks onto the way your fingers rub slow, teasing circles over your oversensitive clit, how your soaked fingers slip from your fluttering hole, still dripping, still needy.

"Jesus, baby," he rasps, voice thick with heat and awe, his hands cupping your face, aching to touch you. "You're so fucking beautiful like this."

He knows that was good, knows it wasn't enough, knows you're still throbbing for him. And you need him to fix it.

Dick groans, pulling you up into his lap, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, filthy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. He licks into your mouth, hot and messy, his tongue sliding against yours, teasing, claiming, making you whimper into him.

His hands are already between your thighs, fingers slipping through your wetness, making you shudder. He groans against your lips, dragging his fingers through the slick dripping from your cunt, teasing your entrance before sliding up to your throbbing clit, his touch possessive, relentless. He circles it slowly, too slowly, smirking against your mouth when you whine, hips jerking forward, needy for more.

"Already so wet for me," he murmurs, voice thick with lust, fingers pressing against your clit just right, making you tremble. "Such a messy little thing, aren't you, baby?"

And you are—soaked and desperate, aching for every touch, every filthy little thing he's about to do to you.

Before you can recover, before the last wave of pleasure even fades, his fingers sink inside you—two at first, long and perfect, stretching you open in a way your own never could. A sharp gasp catches in your throat, your cunt clenching down on him instinctively, still sensitive, still reeling, but fuck, you love it.

"One more, baby," he murmurs, voice low, wrecked, pressing soft kisses to your jaw as his fingers fuck into you, slick and messy, teasing the spot inside that makes you sob. "Give me another, yeah? Let me feel you squeeze my fingers this time."

His voice is so desperate, so needy, like he needs this more than air, like he's begging you to cum for him again, just once more.

And fuck, how could you ever tell him no?

Your thighs are still shaking, muscles twitching from your last orgasm, but you spread them wider, letting him see just how messy you are, just how needy he's made you. His fingers are still inside you, knuckles deep, fucking soaked, and when you clench down around them, whining, his breath shudders.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, eyes dark, heavy-lidded, watching you like you're the only thing in the world.

And when you rock your hips down, sinking onto his fingers with a broken gasp, he just lets you—fuck, he even helps you.

His other hand grips your hip, fingers digging in just enough to hold you steady, and every time you slide down, he curls his fingers just right, dragging against that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back, makes your stomach tighten, pulse with the need to cum again.

"Yeah? That's what you needed?"

His voice is all heat, all filth, dripping with praise and greed, and fuck, you can only nod.

"More," you whisper, voice shaky, wrecked.

And he gives it to you.

He spreads his fingers, stretching you just a little wider, just enough to make your hips stutter, to make you whimper. The lewd, wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out fill the room, mixing with your ragged moans, and fuck, you're close.

"You wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

He's watching you fall apart, his cock twitching where it rests against his stomach, aching, throbbing, but he doesn't stop. He just fucks his fingers up into you harder, faster, matching the desperate way you ride them, chasing your high.

You're soaked, dripping, his hand shiny with it, and he loves it—loves how sloppy, how shameless you are for him.

Your walls clench down, pulsing around him as you gasp, moan, your whole body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you.

And fuck, the way he groans, the way he grinds his dick against your thigh, so wrecked, so desperate, tells you—he's just as fucking gone for you.

He grinds his still-hard cock against your soaked folds, feeling just how needy you still are, how your clit twitches when he rubs against it. He slides just the tip in—just to tease, just to hear you whimper—and he smirks against your mouth when you try to sink down onto him.

"Easy, baby," he murmurs, lips brushing yours, his voice low, wrecked, teasing. "You're still shaking."

And you are—still sensitive, still throbbing, still fluttering from the way he just fucked you open on his fingers. But it's not enough. Your cunt is aching for him, soaking for him, and when he nudges the head of his cock against your entrance, you whine, desperate.

"Please," you breathe, your lips brushing his, sticky, wet, still tasting like him.

But he's in no rush.

He slides the tip in, just enough to stretch you, just enough for your pussy to cling to him, and the way your slick coats his cock, mixing with his precum, makes his jaw clench.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, watching as he pulls back, just to see the way your arousal sticks to him, the way your cunt flutters around nothing, needy.

Then he does it again. Slipping just the tip in. Pulling back. Watching your slick drag across his cock.

It's torture. It's heaven. And fuck, it's so messy.

You kiss him hard, hot, sloppy, licking into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, moaning when he grinds the head of his cock against your aching clit.

"You want it that bad?" he murmurs against your lips, teasing, wrecked, cocky.

And God, you do. You whimper, grinding down, your clit rubbing against the head of his cock, so desperate, so fucking needy for him to just—

"That was—" he breathes, but the words seem to escape him.

"Hot as fuck?" you murmur against his lips.

He laughs, still breathless, still wrecked. "Yeah. That."

And you know he's already planning how to return the favor as he finally slides deep inside your aching pussy.

[biggrimace]

Well Worth it | Fred Weasley

Part 1 / 2

Part: 1, 2

Summary: You are heavily pregnant with your and Fred's first child and have just gone into labour. Part 2 of "Back Pain".

Warnings: pregnant reader, description of birth, vomit mentioned.

Word Count: ~2233

—

George wasted no time in rushing you to St. Mungo's. Thankfully, the pain from the contractions was so blinding that you remember almost nothing about the ride over or even being admitted, so the chaos was lost to you. The most you remember was the frantic voice of Fred arguing with his twin about the speed he was driving, a small argument between him and the nurse at the reception desk about your room, and finally getting some heavy-duty pain-killing potions. That is the clearest memory that you have; the relief, although minor, was still incredible.

You weren't very far along, only dilated 6cm and having contractions every 5 or so minutes. Fred was doing everything he could to help you through the process and comfort you. He massaged your back, walked with you throughout the halls of St. Mungo's, provided ice chips, and constantly asked nurses and doctors for updates. The latter getting not only on yours but the staff's nerves ever so slightly. George stayed for as long as he was allowed before the staff told him to leave; Fred promising to keep him up to date on the progress as he walked him out of the room.

Mmmmmm... Freddie, this sucks...

You groaned from where you stood bent over the bed, rocking side to side as you rode through another contraction. Fred just sighed, feeling disappointed he couldn't do more for you, trying his best to comfort you with another massage. As the pain came to an end, an overwhelming sense of nausea overcame you.

I'm going to be sick again...

You whined. Fred just nodded and grabbed the bedpan. After the last hour or so of running back and forth from the bathroom, he decided it was a better method than trying to get you to the toilet in time. As you emptied the already vacant contents of your stomach into the pan, Fred sighed again, rubbing your back. He took the pan to the bathroom to clean it up, and you crawled into the hospital bed, curling onto your side.

You must be farther along now...

He muttered to himself as he walked out of the bathroom and looked you over. He couldn't help but worry about you. He hated to see you in such agony and wanted to help you feel better. Maybe if I had brought you here sooner... I should've brought you here sooner... He would think to himself repeatedly, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't have made any difference. He made his way to the door and peered outside into the hallway, desperately looking for another doctor to bother and ask to check you over.

Freddie, please... The doctor was just here, and I have not dilated anymore... Stop bothering the staff...

You pleaded less for the staff's sanity and more for your own. The constant poking and prodding make the experience more unpleasant than necessary, and you just want a moment to yourself before being bombarded by doctors again. Fred went to argue, but after seeing your misty eyes and the slight pout on your lip, he surrendered, nodding and moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

I wish I could do more to help.

He sighed as he gently tucked a few stray hairs behind your ear and wiped some sweat from your forehead with a cold washcloth.

I know Freddie, you've told me a couple times now.

He released a single breathy chuckle and smiled down at you. A smile you returned as you closed your eyes in an attempt to take the time you had left before your next contraction to rest. A calming silence fell between the two of you as Fred continued to adore you in silent worry and dab at your forehead.

You're running low on Trick Wands, by the way.

Your sudden comment made him pause, his brows furrowing as he pondered whether he heard you correctly. You opened your eyes half-lidded and teasingly smiled up at him, exhaustion evident in your features.

Pardon?

He asked, still baffled, a smile rising on his face at the bizarre situation. You lifted yourself to lean on your elbow, your head being propped up by your hand.

You are running low on trick wands. You and George will have to make some more before they completely run out.

Your response was so nonchalant as if it was a simple conversation occurring over dinner, he couldn't help but chuckle.

Darling, do you realize that is not my highest priority right now?

He asked with a stunned smile, you faked a gasp and shook your head disapprovingly.

Fred Weasley, I think this is a matter of great importance. What could possibly be a bigger priority than the store's inventory?

Your question was sarcastic, of course. Fred couldn't help the laugh that arose from him, enjoying your ability to still be cheery in your state.

Well, yn. I don't know if you are aware, but our baby is currently on the way. I do believe that is far more important than inventory.

You paused and pondered for a moment before nodding and falling back into your pillow, tucking your arm underneath.

I suppose you're right.

You agreed. The both of you break out into a fit of laughs for a moment before they die down, and again, you enjoy a calm beat of silence. You close your eyes again, breathing deeply as you feel the beginning stages of another contraction. Fred leans down to kiss your forehead, and you look up into his eyes as he pulls away.

I love you, darling.

He whispers with a love-sick smile. You smile back weakly, but before you can respond, another contraction racks your body, causing you to groan. The once peaceful, laughter-filled environment is overshadowed by pain and worry once again.

—

At 9pm, you were in active labour. You were fully dilated, thankfully, and it was time to push. Fred moved himself out of the way of the many doctors and nurses who began preparing for the arrival of your baby, finding his spot at your side. He grasped your hand tightly, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to provide more leverage for pushing. You were a mess at this point, and you looked it even though Fred was adamant that you looked amazing. Liar. You were fed up at this point and beyond frustrated, the last 12 hours of labour making you reconsider getting pregnant altogether.

This child better be worth it, Weasley.

Fred cringed slightly at the worn tone of your voice, the constant groaning and yelling from the pain taking its toll.

I promise, darling, it will be.

He reassured you, squeezing your hand and kissing your temple.

I want it out! NOW!

You screamed in frustrated exhaustion. You were done, in fact, you were done four hours ago, so now you were beyond done.

We have to wait for the next contraction before you can start pushing Mrs. Weasley, just a few more seconds.

The nurse explained in a voice that was much too cheery, making you even more annoyed. You groaned and threw your head back in displeasure, Fred whispering encouraging words to you as you waited.

Ok, push Mrs. Weasley. As hard as you can for ten seconds.

The doctor instructed; you literally felt your whole body squeezing with the contraction as you began to push. The pressure became immense, and you thought you might explode. You were sure that you were crushing Fred's hand, but you didn't care; he didn't seem to mind either, much too focused on helping you through this process.

OK perfect. Take a moment and catch your breath.

The Doctor instructed as the contraction died down. Suddenly, You felt overwhelmed. Call it fatigue, exhaustion or maybe the mind-numbing pain, but you began to panic. I can't do this. It's too much. I'm too tired. I can't do this. What if I'm a bad mother. I am a bad mother. Your mind was racing, and your breathing was picking up in a hectic way.

Mrs. Weasley, you need to relax.

The nurses tried to calm you and coach you through it, but they were no help. In fact, they made it much worse, feelings of being a failure growing as they pleaded with you. Fred could see the panic in your eyes as they darted all over the room, and between the faces of the medical staff, he could tell that you were not ok, and they were only making it worse. It was as if a primal instinct took over him.

Alright, that's enough! You're making it worse! Back off!

He stood a bit straighter, giving him a more demanding presence and stared daggers into each member of staff until they gave you some room to relax. Once he was satisfied, he turned to you.

Darling, you need to calm down, please. I need you to take a deep breath and try to relax.

His tone was quiet, trying its best to be calm but still fluctuating slightly with anxiety. You just shook your head, not even looking at him, your eyes stuck on your bump and the doctor between your legs.

I can't... I can't do this... I'm a bad mother... I can't do this...

You weren't even speaking to him; you were just babbling like you were in some kind of hypnotic trance.

Mr. Weasley, your wife needs to push again.

The doctor addressed Fred. He nodded and turned back to you.

You can. You've already done so much. This is the last bit of it. You can do this, and we are going to have our baby, and you are going to be an incredible mother. Please yn.

He pleaded.

Mrs. Weasley!

The doctor called. You turned to Fred, looking for some kind of reassurance. He offered a loving smile and a quick nod.

I love you, darling. You can do this.

He reassured. You took a few deep breaths, staring into his eyes before nodding and turning to the doctor.

You must push Mrs. Weasley.

He demanded, trying his best to be understanding and patient. You nodded and tightened your grip on Fred's hand before taking a deep breath and beginning to push again.

—

It took an hour and a half of pushing before your baby girl was born. She came out screaming; you wouldn't be surprised if she woke the whole hospital. Fred was a mess of tears, wearing a wide and proud smile as he watched the doctors lift her from between your legs. You ushered him to follow as they went to clean her up, not wanting him to take his eyes off of her since you were preoccupied with the aftercare of giving birth. Now it was around 1 in the morning, you and her had been taken care of, and the medical staff had left the room, allowing some privacy for your new family. You held her delicately in your arms, staring down at her beautiful face and petting it softly with your forefinger. Fred sat beside you on the bed, one arm around you and his other hand running along her full head of hair.

You were right, Freddie. She was well worth it.

You admitted as you adored your daughter. There was a beat of silence before Fred spoke up.

You did wonderful yn.

He whispered, neither of you taking your eyes from the baby; you chuckled as tears began to gather in your eyes.

Well, you did help. I didn't make her alone, you know?

You said, causing him to chuckle. He gently grabbed your head with his free hand, pulled it to his lips, and planted a kiss on your temple.

I mean it, you were incredible.

He was so genuine in his remark. You turned towards him, and after seeing the incredible amount of love and adoration that he held in his eyes, you couldn't help the tears that began to escape.

Thank you, Freddie. But I mean it, too. I couldn't have done it without you.

He teared up at this, smiling, he whispered.

I love you.

You smiled back, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips before whispering.

I love you, too.

The both of you took in the moment before turning back towards your daughter. Fred noticed after a while that you were growing tired and offered to take the first watch over the baby. With a short laugh, you agreed, kissing her softly before handing her off and settling into your hospital bed. Fred moved to the armchair beside your bed. He was nervous holding her at first, worried he might break or drop her, but after a few moments, he grew very comfortable with it. Confident even. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, falling more and more in love with her every second they were together.

Hello, my love, It's Daddy, I hope you recognize my voice. I just wanted to tell you that I am so happy you are finally here... Your Mummy did a wonderful job bringing you into this world. I am so proud of her...

He looked up at you, happy to see you getting some good rest, then back to his daughter who yawned.

We both love you very much. Get some sleep, my love. Daddy's here... Always.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

[sunnyie-eve]

5. Beautiful

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Series: Devious Opportunity

Pairing: (Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Notes: Hinted Smut, Incest, Pregnancy, Childbirth,

| MASTERLIST |

The two pass time catching up and just talking and sitting in silence. At the moment Aegon had his head resting on her lap as she played with his hair, "Lets go for a ride on Sunfyre." He sits up with a smile.

"And we run into my father up there on his way back?" She laughs.

"What if we just fly far away? Leave Westeros together. No one to stop us from seeing and talking to each other."

"Aegon, I can't do that." She tells him so he shuts her up by leaning in with his hand cupping the back of her skull making their lips touch. Aegon let his tears fall freely, and Celeste could taste them in the kiss. Sighing in slight relief as she cupped his face, her soft skin on his encouraging him to look at her.

"I'm here for you." She tells him holding his face as she placed feather light kisses all over him, hearing him let out a quiet whimper as she finally connected her lips with his on her own. Aegon suddenly became more forceful, his desperation pouring into the kiss, grabbing onto her waist with a bruising grip.

Right before the sunrises both Celeste and Aegon wake up from their little rest then she watches him fly off heading back to Kings Landing. She felt a bit bad because their last words to each other was her telling him to just move on and forget about her. She didn't want him getting in trouble from Otto, his mother, or her father. She cared about him and didn't want him going through it.

"You know how hard that is going to be for me?"

"Ageon, please for me so I don't have to worry about you." She tells him.

"Celeste please."

"Aegon, I care you but I don't feel the same." She lies to him, "I don't love you like that. I didn't feel anything during our time together."

He stays quiet getting on Sunfyre leaving her and that would be the last time they ever saw or talked to each other until another two years.

Walking back to her room she sees her father sitting on her bed waiting with a disappointing look on his face, "You have nothing to worry about, father. I told him to forget about me." She tells him.

"Aegon came all the way here to see you?"

"Yes, he just left." She looks over at him, "I'm not sorry."

"I know," He stands up walking up to her, "But I'm sorry." He lets her know before leaving her room.

-

Sitting on the sofa in her room reading Jace wonders in taking a seat next to her, "Are you here to bug us again with your presence?" She asks keeping her eyes on the pages.

"I'm not bugging them just you." He smiles, "They like when I poke at them." He pokes at her swollen belly making the babe move.

"They're moving because you're bothering them, Jace." She turns her head to look at him still poking her belly with a smile.

"I say differently. They love their uncle Jace."

"Technically you aren't their uncle. You're their cousin." She corrects him so he hits her.

"I'm their uncle." He smiles then notices the look on her face as she touches her stomach. "I'll get my mother." He gets up rushing out of the room.

Screams of pain ends up shaking the walls as hours pass by, "I can't do this anymore! Please make it stop!" Celeste yells, clawing at the bed-sheets.

"You can do it dear. You're a strong girl." Rhaenyra holds one of her hands to help her through it, "You're doing a great job."

"I can't take it anymore." She cries squeezing her hand as one of the handmaids dab at her forehead with a cloth.

"You're almost there."

Celeste groans in pain, "I can feel the head. Just a few more pushes." She's told.

Groaning even loudly, her teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked her frame. Pain radiated down her spine and into her groin. She felt like she was being ripped apart at the seams.

"You hear that? You're almost done. You're doing so good."

She squeezed onto Rhaenyra's hand as hard as she could, pushing with all the strength in her body. The harder she pushed, the sooner it would be over. She needed it to be over. With a final push, her vision began to blur and blank mind went blank.

Before she knew it, loud cries pulled her back to Earth, and coo's from the handmaidens filled the room. She laid back with a sigh of relief. As she relaxes Rhaenyra smiles at the baby before Celeste is told to keep pushing.

"I'm not done?!" She groans still pushing.

"It's twins." She's told as she gives birth to the last one.

"Both are girls." Rhaenyra tells her with a smile.

Celeste holds both of her babies to her chest while looking at them she starts to cry feeling something she's never felt before. "Is this feeling normally?" She laughs wiping her tears away.

"Yes, especially with your first." Rhaenyra tells her.

The handmaids clean up both Celeste and the babies before leaving her to rest for a bit. Laying in her clean bed she looks over at the babies next to her in a crib. She couldn't help but find her girls so beautiful. It was love at first sight with her.

Later when Celeste was well rested enough Jace and Luke were excited to meet the baby, "We hear it was girls!" Luke shouts so Jace tells him to quiet down.

"Yes," Celeste smiles.

"What did you decide to name them?" Jace asks as she hands them each a baby..

"Dahlia," She motions to the one Jace was holding, "And Astraea," She looks at the one Luke was holding.

The boys found them both beautiful just like her mother was. They took turns holding them till Daemon entered the room so they left them alone. Daemon walks over looking at Celeste holding the girls. Stepping closer he takes in how they looked.

"They're about identical to you when you were born." He speaks up.

"I didn't know you were even around then for that." Celeste says not looking at him but her girls in her arms. "Do you want to hold them?" She looks at him and he steps back, "Father, please."

Daemon steps forward taking Dahlia from her first and she could have sworn she saw him smile a bit, "That's Dahlia, she has a mole near her eye while Astraea has one on the tip of her nose." She lets him know who was who.

"I thought I was doing the right thing with you. I should have had you with me." He lets out looking over at her.

"I forgive you, father."

[imagineweasley]

Through Pinky Promises

neville longbottom x reader

summary: you're in the thick of the war and you and neville have relocated yourselves and a couple other students into hiding. you go out one night to patrol the halls and get caught by the carrows.

read epilogue here!

warnings: violence/torture, descriptions of injuries, angst

word count: 1.6k

submit requests here! | masterlist

When you came to, your head was pounding. A moan escaped your lips but you couldn't get her body to do anything else. You felt something cold, something damp gently dab your forehead, and the cold shocked your senses enough for you to open your mouth.

"What..."

"I'm here, y/n. I'm here." A shaky voice reached your ears, but barely. It felt familiar... but you couldn't place your finger on whose it was. Whoever it was, your body relaxed a little upon hearing the voice, and you were going to take any relief you could. You were quickly losing consciousness again... you tried so hard to hold on, to stay out of the blackness, but you couldn't... it was too hard... you felt your eyes grow heavy and close again...

You were screaming. Screaming and screaming endless screams, a noise so bloodcurdling it could not possibly be coming from your body. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every neuron in your brain was firing, trying desperately to keep you alive. This was a pain unlike any other. What that red flash of light was doing to your body shouldn't be physically impossible --

You jolted awake.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, STOP!"

"Y/n! What's wrong!" The blackness in your vision was fading quickly but the pain was lingering and your limbs were still twitching. A crowd of concerned faces of the students surrounded you: Seamus, the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan, and all the other students who had gone into hiding with you and Neville a few weeks ago. Stumbling through the small crowd was Neville, wand aloft just in case.

He reached you and grabbed your face with both hands in panic. "I -- help me Neville, help me, please, it hurts, it hurts." As you collapsed into your boyfriend's chest sobbing, he waved away the students' stares ferociously.

"Love, it's okay, you're out. You're safe with me, you're back with us. They're not hurting you anymore." He swallowed back tears and it felt like a rock was sliding down his throat. You were shaking like a leaf and heaving with sobs. Neville knew very well these nightmares, how you wake up sweating and crying out after those torturous nights with the Carrows, and even though they were living in a godless time, he prayed to anyone out there that he would be able to take on your pain.

Neville stroked your hair as your pain subsided and with them, your sobs. You were fully conscious now, and the events of the previous night were hitting you. You had left the Room of Requirement which had become yours and many other students' shelter, to patrol the halls to help any students in trouble. This was not a regular thing the DA did and Neville protested, but you just had a feeling something terrible was going to happen, and he could not stop your will; he never could.

And something terrible did happen, but not in the way that you thought. As you crept around a corner, you came face-to-face with Alecto Carrow, who had smiled a manic, terrifying, slow grin, and struck you with the Cruciatus curse right there in the hall, for everyone to hear your agony. She was making an example out of you, a warning for any other student who dared to go against their dictatorship.

She had then dragged your limp body to her office, where she had taken turns with Amycus, her equally cruel brother, torturing you to try to get you to confess where the other students were hidden. The siblings had it out especially for you and Neville, since you two were acting as the leaders of the student revolution. They had sliced you open and beat you half to death for what seemed like hours before Neville and Seamus had burst through the door and somehow stolen you back.

When your breath slowed and you weren't gasping for air anymore, you were finally able to get a good look at Neville.

His eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion, puffy with tears, and he had some open gashes across his cheekbones and arms that had not been there before.

You gasped at the sight. "Neville, what are these?"

He laughed low and soft, and stroked your cheek. "It's so like you to be worrying about me when you're the one who's been locked up with them all night." You stayed silent, demanding an answer, and with a sigh, he said, "Seamus and I were hit a few times when we were getting you, but it's no big deal. You were nearly bled out by the time we managed to get in, Parvati's been working all night to close up those wounds."

You glanced around Neville and met the eyes of Parvati Patil, who was wringing out a washcloth into a basin of red water. You shivered at the sight of your blood staining the water. You mouthed a grateful thank you at her and she merely smiled and waved you off, indicating she did not need the thanks, then pointed her wand at the basin and replaced the bloody water with clean water.

Seamus appeared at your side and his eyes were also red and screwed up with concern.

"How is she?"

"I'm doing just fine and dandy, Seamus." You held up a feeble thumbs up. "Thank you for saving my life."

Seamus sighed with relief and his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Thank Merlin. You were looking pretty bad there."

"Thanks, Seamus."

He laughed and returned to his sleeping bag, finally plopping down to get some rest.

Your chest was lightening minute by minute and the pain was finally merely a whisper, so you took some time to examine your worn body. There was a large gash across your chest and down your legs, and the rest of your body was bruised. A slight sting on your right cheek told you that there was another gash there. Thankfully, the wounds were almost closed up and the bruises were a sickening yellow, but the shade meant that Parvati's efforts had not gone to waste.

Suddenly, you felt Neville's hand, which was still on your leg, shaking. You looked up, startled, to see that he was overcome with sobs. He was barely breathing from trying to cry silently as to not bother you or anyone else, but it did not seem like he had much control over the tears.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him and he nearly fell into you. "Honey, what's wrong?"

His arms made their way around your waist and he gasped in between sobs, "I'm... so... sorry!" His voice broke between each word with the effort to try and gather himself.

You couldn't do anything except stroke his hair and let tears stream down your face. They soaked his hair and some ran down his neck. Suddenly, he pulled away, grabbed your face, and crashed his lips onto yours. His face was wet with tears (and frankly, a bit of snot), but you didn't care. Your tears mixed with his as he pulled you closer to his body. Perhaps all you needed to heal was this kiss. The pain was already gone.

You stayed like this, kissing each other with the desperation of almost losing each other again, only interrupted by the occasional hiccup from one of you, until you ran out of breath and had to pull apart. You were breathing heavily, but not from the nightmares anymore. Neville had somehow ended up nearly on top of you and holding you up by your waist. He leaned his forehead on yours and whispered, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be the one crying."

"It's okay, Neville. I'm actually flattered that you think so highly of me." You both laughed and Neville replied, "I love you more than anything in the world. I was ready to die for you last night, and I still am."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes again, and he kissed them away. "I love you too, Neville. Please don't die on me."

"Then don't get yourself caught like that." Neville smiled wryly at you, half-joking, half-serious. "You are amazing and I know you were only trying to keep people safe, but we need you. You're the smartest witch in this room and we'd -- I'd be lost without you. I know I can't stop you from going out there again but promise me you'll take it easy for the next few days."

He knew you so well. You paused, as you had already been mulling over how to not get caught the next time you slipped out to patrol, but you caught a glimpse of terror in your boyfriend's eyes and caved. With a shaky breath, you held your pinky out to him. "I promise." Neville smiled and linked his pinky with yours. He kissed you again, much gentler this time.

"Get a room you two!" Seamus called out from his bed on the floor, grinning mischievously. The tension in the air dissipated as the rest of the students laughed for what seemed like the first time in days.

"If you haven't noticed, dear Seamus, this is the only room we have and trust me, if I could get another room to get away from you, I would!" Neville grinned back at Seamus who laughed again and flashed a rude gesture in response.

Neville turned back to you. "Now, you need to get some sleep. Doctor's orders." He grabbed a stray pillow and fluffed it for you, then placed it beneath your head. Your stomach knotted at the thought of slipping back into a nightmare, and you tightened your pinky, which was still linked around his.

"Please, stay with me?"

With a kiss on your nose and a deep groan of relief as he lowered himself onto the pillow next to you, he replied, "I wasn't planning on going anywhere, beautiful."

And held in his arms, your pinkies remained locked together, and you didn't have any nightmares that night.

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ PUNCH THE WALL ﹗two

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ skz hhj, hjs, ksm, yjn x any reader . pt2 to this ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤangst, estb. relationship ㅤ warnings arguing, moderate cursing, and anxiety attack ㅤ﹢ㅤ0.2k per member wc

◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›

Hyunjin splashes his paint to the canvas to create an effect but he knew his anger was accelerating it somehow. He is angry at himself for getting all riled up instead of comforting you. The fear that has been grasping him since your hit has slowly dissolved to annoyance in himself and his trust.

Getting up he pushes the pallette away with force and takes off his smock throwing it to the corner. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway, he thinks before he leaves and walks towards the shared bedroom. His attempt is futile as he feels you bump to him and he stills himself before catching you so you don’t trip.

“Hyun-" your voice dies down in your throat as he presses his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. You stumble lightly from the pressure but Hyunjin holds your hands lightly before parting and says, “Sorry for that, I didn’t know how to fix it.” Your remorse dissolves into a giddy feeling as you mouth an ‘I am sorry’ and Hyunjin kisses it right out of your mouth. Again.

◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›

Jisung’s breath becomes normal as you follow the regular procedure his doctor has advised you about. His fingers which were formerly clutching your shirt are now loosening and you feel relief flooding your veins as his sobs reduce to light sniffles. You hold him tightly and your hands run through his hair trying to calm him more.

A few minutes later, Han looks up and it pains you to see his tear-stained face and you slowly dab under his eyes with your sleeves. “I am sorry,” you whisper and his hold tightens around you as he blubbers, “Please don’t leave me.”

Your heart clenches at his voice as you feel his head rest against you and you reply, “I won’t ever.” “Okay,” he replies and you stay in his embrace as long as he holds you. Because all you could want is to never let him go.

◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›

Your sobs have died down but you keep sitting in the bathroom and look at the full-length mirror Seungmin had installed. There you are, a red-eyed monster who punches walls in anger. The gears shift in your mind and a stray tear rolls down your cheek as Seungmin’s expression paints over your mind again and again.

He is probably going to leave you now.

You jump lightly in surprise, feeling Seungmin’s familiar scent inside and quickly rub your eyes. Looking up, you see him walking towards you, sitting beside you, and saying, “Don’t overthink.” Two words. And suddenly you throw himself in his arms and your sobs return choking your voice while you desperately try to apologise. Seungmin shushes you and caresses your back as he holds you tightly. He quietly starts to tell you how he should have consoled you but you don’t let him talk too much as you peck him lightly and he stares at you with his bug puppy eyes before kissing you properly.

◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›

You look at the clock and worry takes over your features as your boyfriend still doesn’t return from his walk. He had just muttered lightly about going before leaving through the door three hours ago. You had refrained from calling him knowing you messed up a lot but as the clock strikes twelve you reach for your phone and dial his number.

You expect it to go to voicemail so when Jeongin’s voice flows through the speaker you are more than surprised. You sit up straight and let your voice not quiver as you ask, “Where are you? It has been three hours.” He hums lightly and you hear a distant “thank you” from him as your brows furrow in confusion before you hear his answer, “Picking up our favourite take-away.”

“Oh,” you say and he adds, “Don’t worry, I am on my way home.” He cuts the call and you stare at the door forever until you hear the lock click and you jump up. As soon as the door swings you hurry over and hug him tightly as tears escape your eyes. He hugs you back, the boxes poking your skin but you don’t care as you feel him smiling against your neck.

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤpart two because everyone requested. tysm for reading, please reblog to support me. ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr @ka0ila @weird-bookwormㅤ to be added to taglist, send me an ask or comment under my postsㅤ⋆ㅤ main mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi

© arafilez on tumblr. please do not copy and repost my work as your own.

[kingstonromcom]

Talk 2 Me // Miles Morales

Masterlist | Join Taglist !!

↳ tags : miles morales x male reader, miles morales x reader, male reader, marvel,itsv 2, itsv, spiderverse itsv

↳ pronouns used : he/him/his (I think they is also used)

↳ word count : 710

↳ note : i apologize for just now posting this bbgs here's a fanfic I would like to read :)).

The night was colder than usual, the city's skyline illuminated by the distant glow of neon lights. Miles Morales swung through the city as Spider-Man, his lithe form moving gracefully between buildings, but tonight was different. His movements were strained, every swing an effort, and the grace replaced with a hint of desperation.

Finally, he landed on a rooftop, panting heavily. His suit was torn, and bruises marred his skin. The pain was evident in his eyes as he contemplated his next move. The danger he faced tonight had been greater than he'd anticipated. He needed a safe place to rest and recover.

A familiar address came to his mind, a place where he knew he would find solace. With a renewed determination, he launched himself from the rooftop, swinging towards your apartment.

As Miles landed softly on your balcony, he rapped lightly on the glass door. His breath hitched as he waited, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. The door slid open, revealing you in pajamas. Concern etched across their face as they took in Miles' battered appearance. Without a word, they stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

Miles managed a faint smile, gratitude shining in his eyes. He didn't need to explain; they understood. He was safe here.

The reader led Miles to the bathroom, where they retrieved a first aid kit. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, and gently began to clean his wounds. The silence between them was comfortable, a mutual understanding that words weren't necessary right now. Your touch was gentle and soothing, each careful movement a balm to Miles' battered body.

Miles winced as you dabbed antiseptic on a particularly nasty bruise, and he instinctively reached out to grip their hand. His touch conveyed more than words ever could – the trust he placed in them, the vulnerability he rarely showed.

As you worked, tending to his injuries with practiced care, Miles couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. Why did he keep putting himself in these situations? Was he doing more harm than good? And why was he drawn to the reader like a moth to a flame?

His thoughts were interrupted your voice broke the silence, soft and comforting. "You're safe here, Miles."

He met their gaze, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I know."

You finished bandaging his wounds and sat back, studying him with concern. Miles mustered a tired smile, trying to reassure them. "I'll be fine. Just need some rest."

You nodded, but there was something more in your gaze – a question that went unspoken. Miles tilted his head, curiosity getting the better of him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice gentle yet filled with curiosity. "Why do you keep pushing yourself like this, Miles? You're just a kid."

Miles chuckled softly, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. "I guess I feel like I have to, you know? With great power…"

"Comes great responsibility," you finished for him, a small smile tugging at their lips. "But you also have the responsibility to take care of yourself."

Miles nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes it's hard to balance."

You reached out, tilting his chin up to meet their eyes. "You don't have to do it alone, Miles."

Miles held their gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within him – gratitude, longing, and a newfound sense of connection. Without thinking, he whispered the words that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Mi amor."

You blinked, surprised by the endearment in his tone. Miles flushed slightly, realizing he'd spoken without thinking. But your eyes softened, and you smiled warmly.

"Rest for now, Miles," you urge him, your voice a soothing melody. "We'll figure everything out together."

As Miles settled onto your couch, his exhaustion finally catching up with him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort he hadn't experienced in a long time. In the quiet of the night, as he drifted off to sleep, he knew he had found a place where he truly belonged.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 11

Guys, it's happening!!!

04th August 1987- Part 2

"What do you mean 'the baby's coming?" Now it was him being in panic. She surely didn't intend to give birth right here and now…?! "I mean what I said, you idiot!", Camilla snarled, closing her eyes as the next contraction painfully yerked through her body. "I'm not a fucking midwife, Milla!", Andrew snarled back, looking at her in total desperation. She couldn't be serious. She couldn't have the baby here and now, with only him by her side, he was a man, he had no idea of these kinds of things, what on earth was he supposed to do? "No, but you're a fucking soldier so please start behaving like one, you wannabe Silver Stick in Waiting!", she almost screamed at him, not in order to be rude but in order to encourage him because she knew he could do it. Of course, this wasn't the birth any of them had been expecting or hoping for but sometimes nature had the weirdest of ideas and she'd rather have her baby delivered with the help of her husband at home than in the car on the way to hospital. "W-What… shall I do?", he asked, looking at her like a little boy on his first day at school. "What would you do if I was an injured companion of yours?", she countered and noticed in relief how this comparison seem to work: "I'll get you somewhere safe and quiet … and then get some… clean towels, sheets and blankets, hot water…" "Yeah…", she confirmed, desperately holding on to him when she was, again, struck by the next contraction. "You can do it, Andy! I know you can! Please…", she whispered and he gently lifted her up and carried her over to her bedroom again, placed her there and then rushed downstairs to go and fetch the other things. While Camilla tried to prepare herself and the baby as good as possible with some breathing exercises, her husband managed to organise everything they needed, including a tiny little glass of champagne for the mum-to-be. He had heard once that it made the birth easier but it was going to be her decision eventually; he was just trying to make it as comfortable as possible for her. Before returning upstairs, he called the Ambulance in Swindon and explained their situation and they promised him that a doctor and nurse would be there within less than an hour. 'Less than an hour…', he thought, shaking his head, trying to overshadow his anxiety with irony and emptied his own, not so tiny, glass of champagne in one go. "Alright, old man.", he said to himself when looking into the mirror in the staircase gallery. "Seems like you're going to be a midwife tonight."

The good thing was that none of them was afraid or ashamed in any way as they were still husband and wife, parents, a family and there was nothing breaking new to it all, even when Andrew helped Camilla getting rid of her nighty and spread her legs apart so that the baby would find its "way out" as smoothly and naturally as possible, there was nothing he hadn't seen before and nothing that'd have made either of them uncomfortable. "I'm so glad that the children aren't here.", Camilla sighed between two meanwhile immense painful labour contractions. "So am I!", Andrew nodded. "Imagine how they'd be making fun of their old dad playing midwife…" Almost tenderly, he dabbed her forehead with a towel and almost accidentally stroked her cheek. "I'm so proud of you.", he whispered and Camilla wasn't sure whether she'd rather laugh or cry about this unexpected declaration of love but was hit by another heavy labour contraction before she could have thought twice. "Okay, Andy…", she declared when the pressure to push became almost unbearable, bravely pulling herself together. "It's time now… it might take me a few pushes but… as soon as you see her head…" "Don't worry, Milla, I'll have it.", he assured her and once more she thanked God for having sent him to her in this very situation. As much as she loved Charles, he'd never have been able to keep as calm right now as Andrew but it helped a lot and she knew they were going to make it together.

It didn't take long until the head became visible and "midwife Andrew" was in charge gently holding it up while the mother gave another few pushes until the baby finally arrived, announcing herself with an enormous cry, which eventually made the mum cry, too. She didn't cry in pain, she cried in relief and in thankfulness that everything had gone so well and the baby seemed alright. Quickly Andrew wrapped the little girl up warmly in a clean towel and carefully cleaned her little face as Camilla told him to, before he placed the little bundle on his wife's chest. "Hello little one!", Camilla greeted her newborn daughter and kissed her softly on her forehead. "I'm your mummy and I love you so much.", she whispered teary-eyed. How beautiful her little daughter was, how absolutely perfect from head to toe… "Shall we thank Daddy for being our hero tonight?", she asked her, invitingly looking over to Andrew who seemed a bit awkward and overwhelmed, having watched the moving scene from the edge of the bed. "B-but what about… the… afterbirth?", he asked insecurely, looking at the umbilical cord that was still connecting mother and child, but Camilla shook her head. "Let the ambulance deal with that later. Come here." Sighing Andrew did as commanded and carefully laid down beside her. It felt strange to be so close to her again but not in a negative way, especially not after what had just happened. They had delivered a baby together. A wonderful, beautiful, perfect little baby which would hopefully be happy and healthy for a lifetime and have a glorious childhood in their family. Everything could have been perfect, if only he'd been the real father. "Sush, Andy. You're her daddy. You literally brought her to life. She's yours just as she's mine." These wonderful words made him tear up as well and, overwhelmed by emotions, he couldn't help leaning forward - and kissed her…

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 9- The Indigo Streak That Becomes the Eye

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: little over 1.8 k

Warnings: descriptions of the outcome of torture (not too explicit), cleaning severe wounds

--------------------------------------------------------

You kneel by his side, reaching out to his back before stopping yourself. You bring your hand to his neck, desperately searching for a pulse. Finding it, you breathe a sigh of relief. His pulse was weak, but still there.

“Samuel.” You whisper. “Samuel, please wake up.”

You bend over, your forehead coming to a rest on the side of his head as you sob. You hear someone enter the room but don’t look over. Metal scrapes against the stone floor and the footsteps leave again before you look up. On the floor by the cell door are two small platters, each holding a piece of bread and a small metal cup of water.

An idea pops into your mind before you rip the rest of Samuels shirt, opening the back of it up completely. You grab one of the cups, returning to his side. You take a deep breath before you pour its contents over the mangled skin of his back. He hisses, his eyes barely opening as he frantically looks for you. He turns slightly, a broken cry leaving his mouth as pain claws at his back.

“It’s ok- I’m here, Samuel. Don’t try to move, please.”

He only sobs as you tear the sleeve of your shirt off, using the fabric to begin to gently dab at his skin. He cries out at the contact, sending more tears cascading down your cheeks.

“I know- I know it hurts, Samuel. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry but I have to do this, we have to clean it.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet and raspy, his throat sore from his cries. “Just do it, please get it over with.”

You wet the fabric with the remaining water left in the cup, once again gently dabbing his back as he winces. Once you’re satisfied enough, you place the fabric on the platter next to the stale piece of bread.

“I know it hurts, I know it hurts so much, but I need you to move a little. Just to get you more comfortable.”

He nods weakly, and you grasp his forearms as you help half drag him closer to the wall. You sit with your back against it, pulling Samuel towards you until he can rest his head on your thigh. He lets out a deep sigh, his eyes closing as he gets as comfortable as he can.

“Hey, you need to rest but- but you have to promise to stay with me. I can’t do this alone, Samuel. Please.”

Once again, he offers a weak nod, this time against your thigh. One of your hands finds his as the other comes to rest on his head, gently brushing through his tangled mess of hair.

“Stay with me, Samuel. Stay with me.”

~

You sit in silence for what feels like days, the sun setting and rising again through the small cell window the only clue to you of how much time had really passed. You don’t sleep, fearing that the next time you opened your eyes, Samuel would be dead. Each time he moves slightly in his sleep, wincing at the pain, you breathe a small sigh of relief. He was still alive. In excruciating pain, but still alive.

As the sun signals to you that it is midday, a man enters the room, two metal platters in his hands. He slides them into the cell next to the others that still sat mostly untouched. He looks at you, a hint of sadness on his face as he stands on the other side of the bars. You look back at him, surveying his face, sensing something familiar. Finally, recognition hits you, knocking the air from your lungs. You knew this man, he had been part of your father’s crew, one of his closest friends. He had been family to you growing up.

“Vail?” The name is a whisper, hoping that if you were wrong about who he was, he wouldn’t hear it.

He nods slightly. “Been a long time, kid.”

You move to stand, to rush towards him as far as your chains would allow you but stop yourself, not wanting to disturb Samuel beneath you.

“Vail please.” You say tearfully. “Please help us.”

“I can’t, I’m so sorry. Helena has this room surrounded. I could never get the two of you out unnoticed, especially with the state your friend is in.”

“Please, anything.” You sob out. “Medicine, a dagger, anything.”

He sighs deeply, stealing a glance at the door behind him quickly. He reaches through the bars, grabbing the empty cup you had used to clean Samuels wounds with.

“I’ll be back.” is all he says before he leaves you once more.

You wait with Samuel, still holding his hand as you lightly stroke his hair. Vail eventually returns, cup in hand. He sets it within the bars, quickly taking a step back as he nervously eyes the door.

“More water?” you say, confusion thick in your tone.

“Give it a whiff, kid. I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do.” With that, he leaves just as fast as he had come in, leaving you and Samuel alone once more.

You ease Samuel off your leg, gently lowering his cheek to the stone floor as he scowls weakly in his sleep. Making your way over to the cup, you pick it up and bring it to your nose. The intense scent of pure alcohol immediately burns your eyes and throat. Your confusion only lasts for a second before you whip your head back to Samuel.

You rush over to him, placing a hand on his bicep and lightly shaking him.

“Samuel. Samuel wake up.”

“Hm?” He cracks his eyes open.

“I know one of Helena’s men. He was friends with my father growing up. He got me something to help.”

Samuel raises his head slightly, and you hold the cup out to him. The second he smells it, he begins to reach out for it.

“Good. Something to ease the pain.”

You move the cup out of his grasp. “No. If you’re going to drink anything, it’s going to be water.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Then what the hell is the point of that?”

You offer him a sympathetic gaze, saying nothing as the wheels turn in his head.

“Oh. Fuck.”

“We have to, if it gets infected, I have nothing else to treat it with. You’ll die.”

He props himself up on his elbows, and you hand him the fabric you had ripped from your shirt, something to bite down on. He takes it, placing it between his teeth before nodding to you. Your hand not holding the cup finds his, taking it in your own as you begin to pour the liquid onto his wounds.

Pain shoots through your hand as he grips it, squeezing his eyes shut, his scream muffled by the fabric in his mouth. You empty only half the cup onto his back, pouring a small amount onto his arm and wrists as well, wanting to save the rest for later if needed.

Samuel spits the fabric out, breathing hard as his tears fall onto the floor beneath you.

“Can you sit up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let me help.” He does, and you gently turn him to his side, helping him cross his legs beneath him as you push him upright.

His hands grip your shoulders as he adjusts to the new position, his back burning with a pain he had never felt before. You ease him out of his ruined shirt, placing it on the floor beside you before you grab the ripped fabric of your shirt sleeve. You tie it around the gash on his arm gently, finding his shirt once more as you move to kneel behind him. You fold it carefully, wanting what little fabric you had to cover as much as it could. Without saying a word, you press the fabric to his skin, drawing a cry of pain from Samuels lips. You tie the arms of his shirt around his stomach before making your way over to the platters still by the cell door.

You take two of them, sitting back down in front of Samuel hunched over on the floor. Bringing one of the cups up to his lips, you nudge him into a more upright position.

“Lean your head back a little.”

He glares at you, snatching the cup from your hands. “I’m not an invalid. I can do it myself.”

His words sting, but you say nothing as he tries to bring the cup to his lips on his own. He winces, immediately dropping his arm as his shoulder blade catches a deep gash on his upper back.

“I’m sorry. Can you please help me?” he asks quietly, shame in his voice from his treatment of you as well as not being able to take care of his own basic needs.

“It’s ok, Samuel.” you say as you take the cup from his hands, bringing it to his lips and helping him tilt his head back enough to drink some of the water.

You reach for a small piece of bread, ripping it into smaller pieces as you offer it to him. He takes it, bringing it to his mouth slowly.

“I should be ok. You need to eat, too.”

Seeing that he was managing alright on his own, you silently hand him the platter with the rest of his bread on it before grabbing your own. You try not to drink all the water in your cup, wanting to save some as you didn’t know when they would send food and water in again. You repeat the process you had done with Samuel’s bread to your own, chewing each ripped up stale piece thoroughly as you sit in silence.

You both eventually finish, pushing the empty platters and cups across the floor until they sit on the other side of the bars.

“Do you want to lay back down?” you ask quietly.

“No, that was killing my neck.” He winces as he slowly brings a hand up to rub at his sore neck muscles. “It’s fine, I can sit against the wall.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. “We don’t know what’s been on those walls, we can’t risk infection.”

You open your legs slightly, raising your arms to offer him a seat in between your legs, his back against your chest.

He looks at the wall, next to you. “Fine.” Is all he says before he crawls over, sitting on the stone as he leans back into you, wincing at the contact. You drop your arms, and they come to a rest across his chest as he leans his head back against your shoulder.

“I’m glad I’m locked in here with you, Polaris.” He whispers before glancing over at you. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Of course, Samuel. We have to take care of each other in here.”

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: the title, of course, is taken from the lyrics to The Indigo Streak

[strawberyieskit]

Shanyu Confession

Daiyu hisses in pain, her hand pulling away completely bloodied. She clenched her hand, inhaled deeply, and trenched on. 

Daiyu continues running through the forest with no plan in mind. Her only goal being to get away as far as possible from Shan. She couldn’t bear to be near her, not when she knows what is at stake.

Daiyu assures herself that she made the right decision to stay away from Shan so that Shan’s reputation wouldn’t be tainted by the likes of her. (But oh, how she desperately wishes Shan was here with her, though)

Eventually, Daiyu spots an abandoned house. She nearly collapses in relief and braces herself up with her sword. She trembles as she walks over the house and nearly cries when she spots a bed.

While a bit dusty, the bed was made, as if someone had been expecting her for a long time.

Daiyu’s sword is placed against the bed frame. 

She sits on the bed and removes her outer layers, leaving Daiyu in her undergarments. She assesses her wound, determining the damage. Hissing at the wound, she leans over to her robe’s pockets, searching for bandages. 

Mercifully, Daiyu did have some bandages on hand. Using her handkerchief, she carefully dabs at the wound, wincing in pain throughout the whole process. 

As she bandages her wound up, the sound of leaves rustling was heard in the distance. Daiyu tenses up, with her hand hovering over her sword. The rustling grew in sound, approaching closer. Her hand is now wrapped tightly around her sword. 

Daiyu curses to herself - she forgot to put up protective talismans when she came in, too relieved at the sight of temporary comfort to think of further protection.

To her surprise, it was Shan who came through the door. She quickly floors her face into a scowl, as if irritated at the very presence of Shan. 

Shan appeared as if she was on a leisurely stroll, and she just so happened on Daiyu. Daiyu wanted to hate her in that moment (no she could never truly hate Shan). 

Shan strolls up to her, her robes flowing behind her, as if she were a goddess gracing her follower with her mere presence. Daiyu scowls further at the thought. 

Caught up in her thoughts, Daiyu doesn’t notice Shan sitting next to her, with Shan’s sword placed next to her’s. 

Daiyu startles out her thoughts at the sight of Shan leaning into her space.

“…Seems like you got into trouble without me, hm?”

Bringing her hand forward, abruptly stopping in front of Daiyu’s wound. Shan looks up at Daiyu, eyes big and round.

“May this one assist you?”

Daiyu blinks rapidly, her face turning away heated. “This one is perfectly capable of bandaging themselves up.” 

Shan simply smiles, as if placating a child. “Yet this one is bleeding, and still has not yet wrapped themself up properly.”

Daiyu turns her head at that, glaring at Shan. In order to prove herself, Daiyu proceeds to wrap herself.

Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. Daiyu struggles wrapping the bandages around her body, with Shan watching in amusement. Daiyu lifts her arm a bit too high, and immediately hisses at the pain that the action brought to her. Shan’s amusement was wiped off her face, with concern quickly replacing it.

Shan immediately hovers her hands over the bandages, her eyes glancing over to Daiyu for permission. Daiyu stares back.

Daiyu huffs, “Go ahead.” The corners of Shan’s lips merely twitched up, before thinning out into concentration. Shan takes the bandages and proceeds to wrap them around Daiyu’s wound. Much to Daiyu’s disgruntlement, Shan was not only wrapping her properly, but also going at it much faster than her.

Daiyu looks at Shan’s profile. “…What are you doing here? It’s awfully far from where you once were.” Shan merely hums back, “I was once with you. You weren’t there, but you are here now. I simply followed you.” 

Daiyu jerks her head, disbelieving at Shan’s words. 

“Shan! You can’t simply follow me wherever you want.” 

Shan simply smirks at that, tightening the knot to the bandages. Daiyu will never admit that she squeaked a bit when Shan did that (Shan definitely took note of it - how desperately she wants to hear more like it). Shan looks at Daiyu, looking into her eyes for the first time since Shan came into the abandoned house. 

Briefly, Shan thought how defenseless they were, and quickly threw up some protective talismans to ward off unwanted guests. Daiyu merely gave this a glimpse, and provided Shan with a reluctant nod. 

“Daiyu, this one doesn’t need to follow you if you don’t run away.”

Daiyu jerks away from Shan at that statement. Sensing her movement, Shan placed her hands on Daiyu’s waist, minding Daiyu’s wound, and pulled Daiyu towards herself. Daiyu gasps, placing her hands on Shan’s shoulders. She looks at Shan, fire in her eyes. Looking at Shan, however, her fire immediately douses out.

For all that Shan employs a pleasant mask to the outside world, her eyes stilled the fire in Daiyu.

Daiyu could only pick out sadness and  frustration (frustration at what?) out of Shan’s eyes. Shan’s gaze captured her, vast orbs that seem to both provide Daiyu with both the answers and questions of this world. 

“Daiyu.” Daiyu jerks out of her trance, shaking her head lightly to rid of any effect. Shan watches this in amusement, wondering what might be going through Daiyu’s head.

Daiyu bites at her bottom lip, unaware of Shan zoning in on her biting.

“This one … had an errand to go to.” 

Shan blinks. “An errand? At this time of hour? Try again.”

“Umm, I needed to … go to the restroom!”

“This far out into the forest? A forest located at least 4 to 5 hours away from our previous stay?”

Daiyu could only look at the wall, balling her fists up tightly. Shan looks down at Daiyu’s hands, and places her hand over Daiyu’s balled up hand. Daiyu jumps up at the touch, and pushes herself off from Shan.

Shan looked mildly disappointed at the loss of contact, but was far more interested to see what Daiyu will do or say (if it’s to run away or something like that, Shan may consider using her ribbon to trap Daiyu to the bed frame). 

“Shan! Don’t you know who I am?” Shan looked at her curiously and was about to open her mouth. 

“I’m the one who killed your teacher! Your mentor! I destroyed 3 major sects for simply disrespecting me! I’m prophesied to be the Great Disaster of this world!”

Daiyu paces back and forth, deep in her rant. Shan merely nods along with the points brought up. Shan brings her hand up to Daiyu’s hand. Daiyu’s hand jerks away  from Shan. 

“Shan, don’t you understand? I killed your teacher, people from sects, and I tried to kill you! You should stop following me, clearly I’m out to get you!”

“…Are you done?” Daiyu spins around to look at Shan, and is taken back. Shan does not look mad or upset like Daiyu thought she would be. She simply looked passive, as if they were talking about the weather and not how Daiyu tried to kill Shan in her sleep. 

“I have traveled with you long enough to know this now - you killed my teacher because he became possessed. You went against those sects because they killed your family. As for trying to kill me…”

Shan stands up, and walks over to Daiyu. Shan raises her arms, and gestures to herself. “I’m very much alive.” Shan lowers her arms and walks closer to Daiyu. Daiyu steps backwards, unknowingly towards the bed.

“Admit it Daiyu, you could not bear to kill me. That’s why you ran away, wasn’t it?” 

The back of Daiyu’s knees hits the edge of the bed frame, with Daiyu falling backwards. She winces at the sudden fall, and pushes herself up onto her elbows, intending to sit up. This intention was destroyed when Shan went to straddle Daiyu’s lap. Shan’s hands were then placed on the bed, next to her elbows.

Daiyu stilled, her upper half held aloft with her elbows locked in place. 

Shan’s face was so close to Daiyu’s face (Daiyu never knew that Shan had a mole on her right eyelid. She was overcome with the thought to -) Daiyu shakes her head.

“…Shan, you don’t understand-“ 

“I understand plenty.”

Shan’s voice held a firmness that Daiyu has heard many times before. Daiyu wanted to groan - she was unfortunately familiar with this tone of voice. Once Shan got like this, nothing will change her mind (yet Daiyu still adores her all the same). 

“Shan, you don’t get it. I’m meant to be the Great Disaster of this world and-“

“I can’t be near you because of this?”

One of Shan’s eyebrows rose in mocking question. Daiyu flushes. (A part of Shan perked up seeing the flush, noticing how it seemed to go further underneath Daiyu’s under robes). 

“Shan, you will get hurt because of me-“

“Says who? The old fart who came up with that prophecy?”

Daiyu’s jaw dropped at the blatant disregard for the old master (no matter how much Daiyu agreed with Shan).

“Shan!”

Shan merely smiles, “yes?”

Daiyu stutters, attempting to convince Shan to stop trying to be so close to her. 

“Shan, surely this one would hold you back from becoming a Duke again-“

A finger was held to Daiyu’s lips. Daiyu and Shan looked down at the finger (well, as well as Daiyu could look at a finger on her mouth). Unbeknownst to Daiyu, Shan’s eyes darkened, her hazel eyes giving way to black. 

“Daiyu, since when have you decided what I want to do in my life?”

Daiyu looks up at Shan at this, Shan’s finger still on her lips.

“…I have thought that is what I wanted all my life, up to when I received the title and when I lost it. And yet, I now find myself not caring if I get my title back.”

Daiyu was shocked to hear this.

“I-I—I did not know this is how you felt.”

Shan’s gaze felt as though it pierced through her very soul.

“Of course you didn’t know, I have never brought it to you. I had thought my intentions towards you were made clear.”

Daiyu blinks rapidly. “I-Intentions?”

“Yes, my intentions towards you. But since you clearly have no idea what I’m talking about, let this one make it clear to you.”

Shan leans in further towards Daiyu’s face, her lips merely a breath away.

“I love you.” 

Daiyu gasps at this, and suddenly Shan’s mouth is on her’s. Daiyu’s hands quickly went to Shan’s shoulders, but this led to Daiyu falling back onto the bed, a plume of dust flying up from her fall.

Daiyu’s eyes are wide open, not yet processing that Shan was kissing her. 

Shan paid no mind to this. She hums at Daiyu’s lips, finally getting to taste them once more. Shan moved her lips slowly, as if to not spook Daiyu. 

Daiyu squeezes her eyes shut and squirms around, hoping that it would get Shan to stop (oh, she truly didn’t want Shan to stop, and Shan knew this. If Daiyu truly wanted Shan to stop, Shan would have been across the room the moment Shan straddled her). 

This merely encouraged Shan to keep kissing, stealing Daiyu’s breath. One of Shan’s hands moves from the bed to Daiyu’s ear, and softly rubs Daiyu’s earlobe.

Daiyu pulls away and gasps. “Haah…Shan”

Shan’s whole body stilled. Daiyu, unaware of what she just did, pants at Shan’s hand. Daiyu is unsure if she wants Shan to continue or stop. 

Shan’s hand slowly rubs Daiyu’s earlobe again. Daiyu continues to pant at this, her legs rubbing together. 

“Daiyu”

Daiyu opens her eyes (huh, when did that happen) to the sight of Shan’s pupils nearly blown out. Daiyu gasps at the sight (did…did she do that?). 

“This one wants to know if you wish to continue.”

Daiyu hesitates, “…continue what?” 

Shan bluntly replies, “ Should we continue, we will end up having sex.” Daiyu gulps at this, her own pupils becoming blown out. 

"We do not need to have sex should you wish it, but know that my control can only handle so much."

Daiyu pursues her lips together, and looks at Shan through her lashes. Shan near groaned at the sight. 

“…Would..” Daiyu gulps. “…Would this be a one-time thing?” Shan immediately replies back, “If that is what you wish.”

Daiyu shakily inhales, and looks Shan in the eye.

“Do you truly love this one?”

“Yes.”

Daiyu bites her lip at that, and nods to herself.

“This one…this one does not know what love is meant to feel like. …This one merely knows that they want to be at your side at all times.”

Shan’s eyes grew impossibly wide at Daiyu’s honesty. 

“I don’t know when it happened, I just knew that I wanted to see you smile, to laugh with you, to hug you through your harsh times. I convinced myself that being at your side would be enough, and yet I felt more and more greedy for your attention. I knew that this was supposed to be temporary-“

Shan immediately growls. Daiyu pushes forward.

“…and yet when I ran from you, the further I got from you, the more something in me ached. But I couldn’t bear the thought of you being associated with me, knowing that you could be harmed just by being near me.”

Daiyu looks back at Shan. “But if this is what love is, then…” Daiyu inhales deeply as if to steel herself. “I love you too.”

[musingmemories]

Breathe. Breathe. Bre...

Stars danced in front of Sae-byeok's fluttering eyes, heartbeat roaring in her ears and lungs burning as though her brain were desperately alerting her she wasn't getting oxygen. No shit from the literal bear paws clenched in a vice grip around her throat. Consciousness began to slip away to the tunnel vision starting to sink in, groaning at the thought that Deok-su's ugly mug would be the last thing she'd see. Why couldn't it be her brother smiling again? All this fighting just to see the rare joy illuminate his features, happy to be reunited with their mom, safe from North Korea's fascist regime? Hell, she’d even settle for Gi-hun's dumb face staring down at her all pathetic, with those big wide eyes in shock, terror, or confusion.

Or… one with coyly pursed lips always looking like she was about to burst out laughing, observant, catlike onyx orbs studying and reading Sae-byeok’s mind in the final moments.

The pocketknife Sae-byeok carried all the way here slipped from her fingers, surrender unwilling, legs kicking slowing in their swinging momentum, clatter of metal hitting the flooring echoed and faded. Darkness approached. Then, the grip around her throat was ripped away, and air rushed to Sae-byeok’s lungs greedily, painfully, body collapsing in a heap to her knees, coughing raggedly in an attempt to remember and regain the flow of breathing. What the hell happened…? Had she been saved—? Expecting to find Gi-hun — if anyone — there, it was Deok-su’s body still towering over her howling in pain just before he crumpled into his wound like making himself smaller would somehow take it all away. Behind his crouched torso, Sae-byeok found her savior in the blinking lights — Ji-yeong.

Without a second breath, Deok-su rounded on the petite woman with a force driven by anger and survival after yanking out the tiny knife and throwing it aside, winding up and cracking a single punch that knocked Ji-yeong out cold with a sickening THUD! to the ground. He started hobbling forward to finish the job, and Sae-byeok was already on him with a fury battle cry as she pushed her body to move, darting forward to grab the knife and leaping onto Deok-su with the aggression of a wildcat, sinking the knife into the side of his neck, hitting the jugular. Blood sprayed Sae-byeok in a shower of red, grip slippery but not enough to stop Sae-byeok from taking it out and driving it back in. Once. Twice. Three times… until Deok-su’s grasps on her arms loosened, entire body slumping to the ground in violent twitches before he went completely still.

Heaving ragged breaths, Sae-byeok repocketed her knife, crawling over to Ji-yeong’s side as lights flickered on and flooded over them, Sae-byeok relieved to find Ji-yeong was breathing. A split lip the worst of her worries, blood gushed over the nose, mouth, down the chin to the white of her uniform shirt. She’d be fine. The other outcome was much worse… something Sae-byeok had seen all too many times. The pink suits filed in, business as usual while Sae-byeok half-carried, half-dragged Ji-yeong to the bathroom. A glance to the mirror and it was confirmed she looked like a horror movie scream queen covered in Deok-su’s blood. Rather than give in to the panic that scrambled to her chest to get it off, Sae-byeok focused on getting Ji-yeong cleaned up instead.

Water running as background noise, Sae-byeok made a couple trips back and forth for fresh tissue paper, crimson blossoming over white when dabbed at the wound. She stopped when Ji-yeong hissed, stirring finally, and Sae-byeok’s relief was masked with her usual neutral poker face. She wasn’t sure what to say right away, onyx boring into onyx, thank you not something she could utter because Ji-yeong getting involved had been stupid and not asked for. But rather than demand it, Ji-yeong called out her bedside manner… and the look on her face, transparent from mind to expression. ‘You don’t have to look at me like I’m stupid.’ It brought bitterness to the tip of Sae-byeok’s tongue. “But you are stupid. You want nice and tender touches? Save someone else next time.” Continuing her ministrations with as much of a gentle touch as she could muster, Sae-byeok’s gaze was hardened with concentration… and disappointment. “That dumbass was going to kill you, and would’ve made a field day of it.” Pausing, Sae-byeok sighed in frustration, blood starting to dry in her hair as she shook her head. “Why the fuck would you do that? You should’ve stayed hidden like everyone else.”

@fablesuntold

@musingmemories sent: [ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds — From Kang Sae-byeok to Ji-yeong ✨

To those naive enough to believe they were safe during the rest bites provided between the games.. they were sure in for a nasty surprise. The lights in their bunker shut off as usual, deafening silence following as the remaining players settled down on their beds for the night.. only this time? The air in the bunker felt eerily charged with something Ji-yeong couldn’t quite place her finger on. The events that unfolded and followed that feeling all happened too fast for her to truly comprehend. First came the hushed whispers; incoherent from where she was situated.. followed by the devious shuffles of bare feet padding against the laminated ground. More silence, and then.. carnage. The death count rocketed sky high faster than most of the players could even make it out of their beds in hopes to protect themselves. Agonised screams and war cries erupted through the darkness, some drowned out by gut-wrenching gargles as they choked on their own blood.

Through the blinding lights that began to flicker throughout the room, blood splatters could be seen painting both floor and walls with bright scarlet stains. However, that wasn’t what Ji-yeong’s stare had fixated itself on. She was too busy watching the intense struggle going on between two players; Player 067 whom had found herself pinned up against the wall with player 101’s hands squeezing tightly around her throat in a ferocious attempt to choke her out. The fight wasn’t going in Sae-byeok’s favour, evident in how her eyelids threatened to flutter closed and her chest heaved in futile attempts to suck in some much needed air— something Deok-su wasn’t going to let happen if the wicked grin tugging at his lips was anything to go off.

Their struggle was only going to end one way.. and that was with Sae-byeok dead if somebody didn’t step in. Normally, Ji-yeong wouldn’t have bothered. It was every man and woman for themselves in a place like this.. but ever since tug of war and Sae-byeok’s kind invitation to join her team? She’d felt an unexplainable pull toward the other woman.. one that couldn’t go ignored.

Catching a glimpse of something metallic glistening under the lights as it slipped from Sae-byeok’s fingers, Ji-yeong’s mind automatically registered the switchblade and with one swift movement, she’d darted forward to swipe it up from where it had clattered to the ground, and like a women possessed.. she drove it forcefully into Deok-su’s thigh— twisting the blade until the thug was forced to loosen his grip on Sae-byeok to focus on his own pain. She had to admit, hearing him yell out and watching him practically almost wither to the ground was satisfying.. less so, to find herself on the receiving end of his counterstrike in the form of a harsh punch to the face which had knocked her out cold.

Whatever happened after that? Ji-yeong didn’t know.. but when she finally began to stir, she quickly realised she was no longer in the bunker with the other players. Instead, she found herself sitting on the tiled ground of the bathroom floor.. Sae-byeok crouched down in front of her with bloody tissues dabbing at her split lip, pain quick to register the more she began to really come to.

Could she be any less gentle? And did she have to wear that exact same judging look she always showcased in those cold, onyx coloured orbs? “..What?” Intimidating as Sae-byeok was, Ji-yeong refused to shy away from her blank stare, meeting it with her own. “Anybody ever tell you that you should work on your bedside manner?” Whatever.. Ji-yeong had suffered through worse injuries than this in prison. Even more so at home. This was nothing in comparison. “Oh come on, you don’t have to look at me like I’m stupid, you know~?”

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hiii :)

You have successfully reactivated my love for Stiles by reposting 1 (one) gif set of him, so here I am with a request for him:

Maybe something about him coming home after a particularly rough fight/encounter with something supernatural and cleaning his wounds? Just taking care of him, because he looks bad this time, so you fix him up and get him all comfy :) and maybe with prompts 18 and 24 if you want :))

No rush though and I hope you have a nice day <3

UH DUH I'M SO HAPPY TO HAVE SPARKED THIS INTEREST.

"How come the best game of my life turned into getting kidnapped by my best friends girlfriends grandfather?" Stiles asks, hissing a bit as I dab gently at his cheek, my jaw clenching at the pain that riddles his fragile body.

"It's your luck, babe." I whisper, trying my best to suppress the anxiety that's bubbling in my chest, my heart pounding against my ribs at the thought of Stiles strung up and beaten into submission. His brows are furrowed as I glance over the rest of him, catching the bruises that are beginning to line his freckled collarbones, skin that's typically littered with different types of bruises.

"Don't look at me like that." Stiles mutters, reaching out to take the first aid kit out of my hands, tossing it to the bed beside us. My eyes lift to meet his sad gaze, watching as a sad smile stretches across his bloody and bruised lips.

"They hurt you-"

"I know-"

"I had no clue where you were for hours, Stiles. It was hell for me." I whimper pathetically, my shoulders deflating in defeat as I move impossibly closer to him, tucking my face in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around me without hesitation, pressing his lips to my hairline. "All I wanted to do was celebrate your win cuz I was so damn proud of you." I chuckle tearily, listening to the sound of his heart beating against his chest as laughter rumbles through him.

"I did pretty damn good, didn't I?" He asks quietly, tilting his head to look down at me, catching my gaze in a reassuring glance. His eyes flicker back and forth between mine, his hand reaching up to caress. my jaw sweetly as I try desperately not to look at his injuries. "The lsat thing I need is you worrying about me when I've already got my dad breathing down my neck and asking way too many questions." He laughs, trying his best to ease the anxious tension in the room.

Cracking a smile, his face falls a bit in relief as I relax a bit into him, realizing he's here, with me and no longer in harms way. I give him a simple nod before getting back to tending to his wounds, pressing my fingers against the muscles on his chest and ribs, listening for any noises of discomfort. He doesn't jolt away from my gentle touch, just watches me nervously work, knowing this is more for my state of mind than his.

"I think I'm okay." He nudges me playfully. "Statistically, if I had internal bleeding, I'd be long gone by now." He snorts, sending me a wink before pulling his bloody shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground before flopping back on his bed.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Stilinski." I chuckle, laying down beside him with a huff, relieved to finally be back in his arms and knowing he's safe.

"No problem, it's what I'm here for."

A few moments pass by, Stiles memorizing every inch of my face as I track his freckles and moles all the way down his chest to the plates of his abdomen, appreciating the quietness, the calm in the middle of a supernatural storm.

"I think that I’m going crazy because every time I look at you, my brain short circuits." He grins cheesily, his voice coming out barely over a whisper as my brows lift teasingly.

"I think that's called a concussion- are you sure you don't want to go get checked out by Melissa? We'll tell her you got jumped after the game or something." I taunt, watching his eyes roll with a sarcastic scoff.

"Oh because that's way more believable than what really happened? Ouch, babe."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

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[cyprus-green]

Dramione Prompt: Does it hurt?

NSFW 18+ , BDSM, Daddy Kink, Pain Kink

The heavy supple leather of the flogger connects again. Tender skin turns red, her moans echo around the room.

'Does it hurt?'

'No, Sir.'

'Oh, no?'

Before she can answer the swish and clack of 22 tails hitting her pussy steals her breath away.

Then he does it again and again. After a handful of hits, she's begging for relief. He tuts and coos at her pleas.

'Shhh, I know darling. I know.'

His cool fingers kiss her stinging skin, and she keens at the gentle touch. She's swollen. From arousal, from punishment, perhaps both.

A quick rub of her clit through her puffy outer lips gives her cause to buck against the pressure.

When she mewls he lifts his hand and he gets close to her ear again. She's nodding through tears, high off the lingering sting.

'Lets try that again, shall we?' He whispers.

Hitting her cunt with the entire flat of his hand, she squeals into the air and hes kissing her cheek, taking in her salty tears.

'Does it hurt?'

'Yes, Sir'

'How bad?'

'Please no more, please, Sir'

He follows a path of tears, kissing down her neck. His hand slaps her cunt again, and he kisses her jaw sweetly as she screams.

'Please, please...' ,she sobs.

'Please what, my slut?'

His fingers come down and spread her pussy, revealing an obscene amount of arousal pooling between her lips. He tuts at her vocal response.

'Oh, Gooooddsss' she's bucking, her face red, sweat on her brow. She's consumed by the heady high of pain and pleasure.

A few circles have her arching. She wails when she feels two fingers plung into her roughly. He's working her body into a frenzy.

His mouth sucks on her inner thigh. She wails again as he curls his fingers and begins pumping them faster. And faster.

Without any forewarning he pulls out and removes himself from her. The cry she makes is pitiful.

'What is it, naughty girl?'

'Daddy, please!'

An involuntary groan leaves his chest and he quickly rubs at her clit again.

'Oh...Daddy, is it?' His eyes shine in mischevious delight. It's always something special watching his Granger sink deeper into subspace.

'What do you need, my pretty girl?'

'Daddy! Please I need to come!' Her whine is high pitched and desperate.

He coos at her and slaps her cunt once before roughly pumping his fingers into her again.

'Daddy! Daddy-' she chokes on her words as he presses his lips against her messy, swollen cunt.

Her cries carry beyond the walls of the room.

'What do you want, Princess?'

'Please, can I come? Please? Daddy, it hurts. It aches so bad... I need it. Please!'

Her desperation peaks as she wails.

His answer nearly brings her over the edge, as he growls into her.

'Come on my lips. Come for me. Be a good girl and come for your Daddy.'

That's all the permission she needs as he licks and sucks on her clit mercilessly, still pumping into her over and over.

The orgasm that tears through her has Hermione bucking her hips as she clenches tightly around three of his thick fingers.

Her orgasm crashes over her, fire and sweet release, pain and delicious need as he finger fucks her through the blissful spasms.

Her comedown is long but it gives him time to lick her clean.

By the time she's done, his chin glistens with her come. She stares up at him with exhausted and vulnerable eyes. She's never looked more beautiful.

Before she can say a word, her hands and legs are released from their cuffs. He wastes no time gathering her naked body against his own.

His hard chest is hot against her cheek. His lips come down to her brow and she can feel him flicking his wand. When she turns, he's conjured a cup of water, a few rags and an ice pack. He hands her the glass and watches her patiently, as she gulps it down.

His hand gently spreads her legs and with one hand he gathers the damp towel, gently dabbing her sensitive core. He whispers gently to her as he cleans.

'Such a good girl, for Daddy.' ...'You did so good, darling.' ...'Gods, you're perfect.' ... 'You're so fucking beautiful.'

After drying her, he cleans his mouth and presses his lips against her temple. Gently he places the ice pack between her thighs.

'Feels better?'

'Feels perfect. Thank you, Daddy.' She sighs into him. She's exhausted, but oh so content. Floating above the clouds where subs go to dream. His hands caress and flutter over her body...

And before he knows it, his beautiful Granger is asleep against him.

Looking around the room he supresses a chuckle. It's thrashed. Rope and cuffs discarded on the floor. A flogger and riding crop lay halfhazardly on the sofa. Clothes are strewn about. The room smells like sweat and sex.

What a perfect night.

[just-jordie-things]

A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself.  Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you.  The boy was downright insane about it.  Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times.  But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene.  He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore.  And you made him pinky promise.  That’s a big deal.  And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out.  “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing.  “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast.  And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes.  “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess.  Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster.  Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday.  And even if something came up, he always always, called.  But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder.  And there was a time that you’d thought he never would.  Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers.  And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way.  In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though.  It started with your ex boyfriend.  He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms.  And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms).  That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger.  And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things.  It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls.  So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him.  “-midnight.  Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet.  But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light.  His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone.  Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him.  “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling.  Your voice was soft, and low.  You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore.  Not when you looked so disappointed in him.  

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room.  Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane.  Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure.  But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room.  He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually.  It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it.  That promise was important to you, because he was important to you.  And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent.  Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore.  And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek.  Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing.  In fact, it was the worst thing.  It meant he messed up beyond redemption.  And he’d never fucked up that bad before.  Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious.  Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth.  He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship.  You knew what came next.  The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse.  Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut.  Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye.  It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now.  You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better.  Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore.  “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes.  Richie didn’t look back at you.  He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself.  From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him.  “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands.  You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you.  But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment.  You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows.  Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to.  “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly.  “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away.  But you bit your tongue.  Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am.  But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach.  Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened.  You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up.  “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about.  He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start.  “Come on, the truth”  

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst.  His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell.  Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away.  I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless.  You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you.  And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you.  But this wasn’t like before.  He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart.  Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do.  (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed.  His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum.  His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him.  “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence.  You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added.  “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words.  Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear.  And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely.  “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away.  He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had.  He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be.  And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like.  Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer.  He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck.  “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls.  “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent.  “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter.  And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush​

xoxo ~ jordie

[dumbikawa]

Fighting /W HQ Boys And Being Comforted By Their Teammate

GN!Reader | Angst to Fluff | Warnings: None

Characters: Oikawa, Akaashi

A/n: I tried to edit the format on mobile so I hope everything is in the right place lmao

OIKAWA

- Oikawa had been training much more than usual, which was already an ungodly amount as it is, leaving the two of you barely any time to talk let alone hang out.

- You understood, though, to some degree. Volleyball was his passion and Nationals was his last chance, in his mind, to prove he was good enough. Winning this was everything to him.

- You tried to bring him snacks every day either in-between classes, before practice, or after practice because it was obvious he wasn’t taking care of himself the way he should, and it pained you.

- The night before they left for Nationals, you waited for him to get out of practice so you could wish him luck in person since they’d be leaving early the following day. Your planned speech was forgotten, though, when you noticed a slight limp in his step.

- Not being able to hold back your concerns anymore, you asked him about it, and he snapped at you before heading off in the opposite direction.

- That night you walked home alone. Well, almost. Iwaizumi found you, knowing the route since often all three of you often walked together.

- He allowed you to rant about his sometimes idiotic best friend, explaining how you had been desperately trying to keep the relationship afloat, how understanding you were when he couldn’t spend any time with you, and the various ways you tried to take care of him since apparently he wasn’t capable of doing it himself. Yet, he showed his appreciation by yelling at you?

- Iwa laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, his attempt at comfort. You leaned forward and gave him a quick hug, thanking him for allowing you to just complain and blow off steam.

- What neither of you noticed, though, was an apologetic, guilty Oikawa watching as his best friend did the job he had ran here to do, and, honestly, probably doing a better job then he would’ve. It was only natural for you to gravitate to somebody who could actually be there for you, he thought. He should’ve known it would happen sooner rather than later, so he turned and walked away.

You feel slightly idiotic as you step out of your car and follow the crowd towards the packed stadium. After not returning any of your calls or texts from last night or this morning, and the last exchange you had with him being less than stellar, you’d still made the drive to watch him at Nationals because, despite all that happened, you loved him much more than he even knew, and you wouldn’t miss this for the world. Whether it ended in celebrations or tears, you wanted to be by his side through it all.

And, as heartbreaking as it was to watch their final match, you realized there would be no celebrating.

-

It hadn’t sunk in yet. He refused to believe the pain, the dedication, the putting everything else on hold had only led him to defeat. It wasn’t possible. He needed to stay strong, though. He couldn’t allow himself to cry afterwards with the rest of his team.

He trailed behind as they walked out of the gym, his eyes betraying him as they watered while he tried to scan the stands for a face he wasn't even sure would be there. You were another thing he had sacrificed to be here. The best thing he had in his life next to volleyball. Why would you want to see him after he was so awful? Especially when he had nothing to show for it.

Yet, there you were. The sadness he couldn’t yet express was written on your face. His eyes trailed down and noticed you were wearing one of his sweatshirts. That’s when it all came crashing down on him, and there you were to catch him.

“I-I wasn’t...I wasn’t good enough,” he stammers, his muscular body colliding with your sturdy figure. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, finding comfort in the way his sweatshirt now smelled like your perfume. “Not for my team, not for you--”

“Tooru,” you hum, his name feeling like home coming from your lips, “what are you talking about ‘for you’?” You place your hands on either side of his face, pulling him back just enough so you can look into his teary eyes.

“I saw you with Iwa after I--” His face contorts in pain as he thinks back to his words from last night and more tears spill past his lashes. “You turned to someone else because of me.”

Your heart breaks at the thought of him seeing that and thinking that you’d begun to move on from him, as if that were even a possibility.

“No, no, baby. I was upset, yes, but Iwa was just making sure I was okay. He could never replace the love I feel being in your arms or the butterflies I get when kissing you. Nobody could.” Oikawa feels his rigid body softening at your words, allowing himself to believe that’s the truth.. “I wish you would take care of yourself, or, at least, let me help pick up the slack. I’m so proud of you, your team is proud of you, and, most importantly, you are good enough, okay?” He wasn’t sure there were any tears left for him to cry, but another wave of sobs rack through his body. You pull him closer, whispering reassurances and sweet nothings for only him to hear while tracing soft circles on his back.

He felt a weight lifting off his shoulders as he allowed himself to relax in your arms. He wasn’t sure if it was from knowing you were still there for him, or if it was because, regardless of how it ended, it was all over and that provided a confusing relief in itself.

All he focused on, though, was the thought that there was no one else he wanted by his side for the rest of his life.

AKAASHI

- Akaashi felt the self-doubt creeping up on him. It seemed like he’d been on a steady decline in nearly every aspect of his life lately; volleyball, school, and even his relationship with you.

- His sets felt messy and it was only a matter of time before his team would take notice of it. And with practice nearly every night after school, he wasn’t finding the time to get the work done that he needed for classes. Then there was you. He never thought he was good enough for you and with everything else weighing his mood down, he didn’t want to make you feel bad, too.

- That’s when he’d put up a wall between him and everybody else, including you.

- You knew the moment he pulled back and decided to give him some space for a week or two, hoping that’s what he needed.

- When that didn’t work, you decided to ask him about it. Even if he didn’t want to talk about it, perhaps just knowing you were still there would be enough to make him feel a little better.

- Safe to say, it didn’t go as you’d planned.

- “I have to get these assignments done, y/n, I don’t have time to talk.” Keiji, I just want to-- “Y/n! I can’t right now, can’t you see? I can’t deal with this at the moment.”

- You didn’t feel like fighting, so you left, letting the door slam shut behind you.

For the first time since you and Keiji started dating, you wore your own hoodie to school. There was no inherent statement behind it, but if he wanted to take it as some sort of low blow you didn’t care. It had been a couple days since you left his house with tears pooling in your eyes and it felt like your heart was hurting more and more each day the two of you didn’t talk. 

Bokuto could tell there was something off between the two of you. He’d observed it weeks before, but figured it wasn’t his place to necessarily say anything. At this point, though, it had been going on for too long and he didn’t like seeing two of his closest friends hurting.

“Hey y/n!” Bokuto’s cheery call cut through your miserable mood. You hadn’t been swinging by to watch practice and avoided the dining hall, so you weren’t seeing him as much as you’re used to. You found it easy to return his ear to ear grin and began walking with him in the direction of the gym.

“It might not be my place to ask, but what happened?” The smile slipped right off your face and you had to physically turn away to avoid meeting his puppy dog eyes that would have you telling him everything.

Your eyes begin to water as your mind walks back through that night. A scoff leaves your lips as you begin to dab away the escaping tears. Bokuto, alarmed and guilty that he made you cry, envelops you in a bone-crushing hug. It felt...incredible, though. In trying to get Akaashi to open up, you forgot to follow your own advice.

Everything spilled out as you let the tears fall on Bokuto’s blazer. How Akaashi had pulled away so you tried to give him space. That when you attempted to talk to him about it he lashed out at you. Bokuto listened thoughtfully, recognizing times he’d seen his friend put up these same walls before. There wasn’t much he could offer in the way of advice, but all you needed was for him to listen.

Akaashi watched you pull away from Bokuto’s arms and laugh at something he’d said, a genuine smile gracing your lips. It hadn’t occurred to him how long it’d been since he saw you smile like that. He felt awful for what he said the other day and regretted it all the moment he saw the hurt on your face. Letting you go seemed like the best thing to do because maybe then you could find somebody to make you smile instead of cry. And, perhaps, you already had.

He closes his eyes with a sigh, letting himself slide down to the floor, thinking about the way you were smiling and imagining a scenario where it was because of him.

“Keiji?” Your soft voice pulls him from his thoughts as he looks up to see you standing a little bit away from him, an unsure look on your face.

“Y/n.” Everything he wants to say is stuck in his throat, so he settles for a simple, “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t enough, he knows, but you still sit down next to him.

“What’s going on in your head?” You hug your knees close to your body and turn to look at him. He wants so badly to reach out and hold your face, watching your eyes drift close when you lean into his touch.

“You deserve better. Someone happier like Bo. I’m not a good boyfriend--”

“When did you become a liar?” You cut him off, wanting to stop his harmful train of thinking immediately. He’s taken aback, not sure what to say, so you continue. “Do you remember when you brought me my favorite food because my favorite character died? Or how whenever we’re in a crowd you put your hand behind your back for me to hold so we don’t get separated?” He wants to smile, thinking back to those moments, but remembering the things he said the other day stops him.

“But I’ve been so horrible to you recently.”

“You haven’t been horrible, Keiji. You’ve just got a lot going on up there. There’s no pressure to tell me about it, but I’m here and I’m not leaving unless you really want me to.” 

Nothing else had to be said. He leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. Your arm goes around him, a physical affirmation that your words are true. One talk wasn’t going to solve everything. The self-doubt would still be there, and they might always be. But he felt comfort in the fact that he could share more with you without that fear of bringing you down with him.

[goonification]

yungi smut

[18+] Mingi gets hard before stages and has no idea why. Neither does Yunho but he’s happy to help.

The fast-paced voice of a MC echoed through the hallways over a loudspeaker to introduce the lineup for the night’s show. No one was listening too carefully though to the tinny voice, as the livestream usually only acted as a reminder that, in the same building, the Music Bank stage was soon to be lively with performances for the next 90 minutes. It wasn’t uncommon for the muffled sounds of the host to be overshadowed by the busy chatter of stressed out staff and excited idols, donning various elaborate and colourful outfits. 

It was less than an hour until Ateez were supposed to be rounded up and ushered to the wings of the stage, prepared to give the nth performance of their most recent comeback.

While most idols we’re counting down the minutes to their upcoming stages, Mingi was rushing back to his group’s green room, hoping to god it was empty.

He scuttled through the crowds, politely bowing at passing staff and tucking behind ongoing interviews to not draw attention to himself. A lanky, 6ft man with a hand on his crotch lumbering through the background of someone’s acrostic poem segment would be bound to draw the wrong kind of online attention.

Hand grasping the doorknob of their assigned green room with relief, the sounds of the hallways were snuffed with the thick door shutting behind him. 

He gave the space a quick once-over, falling at ease when he found it seemingly empty. With the room barren of members or staff, Mingi pressed his back to the door as a makeshift lock and shamelessly dropped his pants below his waist.

This wasn’t an uncommon scenario.

There are plenty of different ways that the human body can react to a stressful situation. Some people overthink to the point of a headache. Others have physical reactions, like shaking or sweating. Some people even feel faint or collapse.

However, Song Mingi got boners. Plain and simple. He doesn’t know why it happens. Often, he doesn’t even know when it’ll happen. 

The regularity of stage fright had faded away to a fear of the past. With the exception of the occasional special stage, Mingi typically didn’t get stressed out over every individual performance but, for some godforsaken reason, his body seemed to know what a pre-show countdown sounded like and reacted regardless. 

Nervous or not, popping a semi backstage was a shamefully familiar feeling for Mingi. He was well aware that there had been a couple of fancams where his half-hard cock made far more of an appearance than he wanted and, determined to not repeat history if he could help it, intended to try de-escalating his problem before stepping foot on stage this time.

Mingi looked down at his dick, standing fully upright.

It was mocking him.

Frustrated at his situation, Mingi furrowed his brow, scowling at his penis before feeling grateful that no one saw him do that. Nothing like a healthy dose of random horniness to cloud every crevice of his brain with a layer of fog, stopping him from thinking rationally. 

He collected his composure with a deep breath, using his knees to pinning his pants at his mid-thigh in case someone entered unexpectedly, and got to work.

A large hand wrapped around the proportionately large shaft and began to pump, so quickly in fact that his whole body lurched forward at the sudden relief. It wasn’t long before his knees instinctively spread and baggy pants fell to his ankles. There was no use picking them back up. Not a minute could be wasted. The door behind him could open at any second. With his very noticeable presence missing, someone was bound to be looking for him to reunite him with his members.

Mingi didn’t know how much time he had. A few drops of spit and a dab of precum was all he could gather as lube, forcing him to slow down his pace to avoid discomfort. Mingi whined. He knew this wouldn’t take long at all if he was back in the dorms with his usual creamy lotion or the constant flow of a soapy shower to keep his length slick.

He could practically hear the threat of a ticking clock in his head. The bustling sounds of people on the other side of the door weren’t helping. The MC’s voice echoed again, saying something about a commercial break, probably the first of several. He was desperate to fix his problem fast and would need to try something different.

A shaky second hand joined the first, holding it steady as his hips took on the task instead. The closed tunnel of his fist stopped the air from drying away his precious moisture, allowing for a more comfortable friction than before.

“Ah-” Mingi couldn’t stop the escape of a single low moan as he fucked his hand, balls slapping against his curled fingers and stretched wrist with each thrust.

It felt good, definitely better. But he was still too distracted. While his new technique was undoubtedly more successful than the first, his brain was still going a mile a minute with the looming reminder of the risk he was taking. His hands were shaking, needing to readjust their grip every few seconds. 

Mingi didn’t want to cry; he had just had his makeup done. Yet, still, every shaky slip of his hands was contributing to a growing frustration. 

It was becoming more difficult to keep quiet. Mingi was being assaulted with the buildup of both dull pleasure and throbbing pain and needed some way to express it. Small grunts were turning into breathy moans, low and long, to try to keep the sounds contained in the room.

Suddenly, even through welling tears, his eyes caught sight of a slight movement caught in one of the dressing room mirrors. What Mingi assumed were just piles of jackets on a couch began to shift, before he noticed the pant legs of a stage outfit, matching the one Mingi was currently “wearing”, donned on a long set of legs. A pair of large boots stuck upright off the end of the couch.

“You’re terrible at staying quiet.” Yunho’s familiar voice spoke out from under the pile before he threw a heavy jacket off of his head, exposing his tired face in the reflection of the mirror. He was basically eye-level with Mingi’s cock.

“Ah, what the fuck!” Mingi shouted, trying and failing to pull up his pants. In that moment, he silently cursed the stylists for always putting him in the baggiest outfits. He repeated his expletive of choice. “What the fuck were you doing under there?”

Yunho squinted tightly, shaking his head as his eyesight adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light of the room. “I had a headache and couldn’t find the light switch.”

“Oh.” Mingi stood dumbfounded and beet-red. Yunho was as giant as he was and it wasn’t like he was exactly hidden. He mentally scolded himself for not checking the room better before fully exposing himself, accidentally baring his entire cock and balls to his friend.

“I knew you were horny earlier!” Yunho exclaimed, like it was his own personal victory for guessing correctly. “You were all bouncy and quiet during stage rehearsal. Kinda like before you take your extra long showers. Always before the stages too, huh? Why is that?”

Mingi shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He especially didn’t know that Yunho was so attentive to his behaviour. It made him think back to every time he busted what he thought was a secret nut but maybe he wasn’t so private after all.

It was a lot of information to take in with his pants around his ankles. He had so many questions. Mingi started with an easy one. “Why didn’t you say anything when I came in here? I would’ve stopped.”

“Honestly, I thought you were here to get me.” Yunho was fixing his hair at the mirror, composing himself while stealing occasional glances of Mingi’s cock in the reflection. “At least, until I heard you all -” He mocked the deep timbre of Mingi’s voice and moaned comically. Painfully to Mingi, even the unflattering imitation made his exposed dick twitch. He hoped to god Yunho was too busy laughing at him to tell.

Noticing the shift in posture, Yunho offered some comfort, not wanting his friend to feel too embarrassed. “I didn’t mind. Really.”

“But why did you scare me like that?” Mingi’s embarrassment shifted to anger. Yunho’s logic wasn’t making any sense and Mingi still didn’t have a plan for how he was going to get his dick down.

Yunho avoided the question. “How long until we go on?”

“Huh?” Without context, the request went right over Mingi’s head.

“Fine, I’ll look for myself.” Yunho raised an eyebrow before checking a nearby phone. “Forty seven minutes until our stage? That’s tons of time.” 

The tension on Mingi’s face unwravled with a small ounce of relief. The events of what felt like hours of pure frustration likely took place over a mere thirty seconds. He just needed to be reminded.

Still, the reality was that Mingi was rock hard and not as alone as he thought. As one problem disappeared, another became even more prominent. Yunho made his way towards Mingi and the door, hopefully to leave the room, and pretend he saw nothing. 

Even in that best case scenario, Mingi wasn’t sure if he could ever recover from the mortification of what just happened.

Wanting to drop the hint and give Yunho better access to the door, Mingi shifted to the side, movement restricted from the pants still pooled around his legs and too ashamed to pick them up.

However, Yunho didn’t turn towards the door. He instead turned his attention towards Mingi, who had backed himself into a corner. They were uncomfortably close considering the fact that Mingi’s lower half was fully nude.

Yunho smiled stupidly as though the confusion on Mingi’s face was unwarranted. “What? You were struggling to get off, right?”

“Yes...” Mingi admitted, still confused over what exactly his friend was doing. “It was that obvious?”

“Believe me, I know what it sounds like when you’re getting off. What I just heard sounded like a struggle to me.” Yunho never broke eye contact with Mingi. There was a glint of joy in his eyes as he explained his thought process, while never actually revealing his intentions.

Everything he said only raised even more questions. So many that Mingi didn’t have the brain capacity to sort through. Right now, he was more curious why Yunho had him cornered in their dressing room. 

“Mingi,” Yunho uttered his name as though he was scolding him with endearment. Telling him off for being so apparently stupid even thought Mingi thought his confusion was very much justified. “Do you want me to help you?”

Yunho wanted to jerk him off? Mingi thought he had heard wrong.

On first thought, it would fix both problems at once and still leave time to spare, even if the idea of his friend touching his dick would leave Mingi with a whole new slew of questions to plague him until they got back to their dorms. That is, if Yunho would even want to talk about it.

Mingi was getting ahead of himself. He needed to answer the question first.

He kept thinking, pushing through his stress and arousal to conduct a clear thought. Yunho was handsome. He was always clean and smelled good, and liked holding hands with Mingi. Though his qualifications were sparse, Mingi was almost surprised at just how unopposed he was to the idea of Yunho helping him cum. After all, that’s all it would be, right? A friend helping out a friend.

“C’mon, you’ll feel so much better afterwards. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Yunho pouted as he got closer to Mingi’s face. He was being sweet. Buttering the other boy up without knowing that it wouldn’t even take any convincing to get him to agree.

If only Mingi could answer the damn question. All he could muster up was the confidence for a moment of warm eye contact and a gentle nod.

It was signal enough for Yunho, who leaned in for a hesitant kiss. Mingi’s puffy lips were already parted and set to lock with his own. As they brushed against each other, Yunho’s tongue peaked out, sliding over Mingi’s bottom lip and making him shudder before dipping inside his gaped mouth. 

The gap between them closed even further when the fabric of Yunho’s pant leg accidentally brushed over Mingi’s hard cock, which was poking out and occupying most of the space between them. Mingi moaned into Yunho’s mouth, a gentle reminder that they had a goal to achieve.

“Mmm. No more,” Yunho sighed with regret. He pulled back as Mingi stupidly chased his lips in a daze. “We need to be quick, remember?” 

“But you don’t need to see your hands to jerk me off.” Mingi pouted comically, trying to convince him to return to their greedy kiss. He didn’t expect to enjoy kissing Yunho that much and was wondering if it could turn into a hobby of theirs.

Yunho simply chuckled, obviously knowing more than Mingi about his plans for his mouth. After a breathy “huh?” Yunho took the cue to drop to the floor.

Mingi froze. He was expecting a steady hand to help jerk him to completion at the most but this was so much more. The sight of Yunho on his knees, locked upright so he could keep his face raised inches from Mingi’s cock was making his head throb in more ways than one.

He watched as Yunho’s eyes darted around, carefully examining every inch of him as fast as possible. If he knew Yunho was going to be that close and personal with his junk, Mingi would have shaved that morning. 

“I knew you were big but, damn.” Yunho’s vision stayed locked on to Mingi’s shaft. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted. He looked just as needy as he felt.

“I mean, you don’t have to go d-” Mingi couldn’t even provide an alternative, let alone finish his sentence before Yunho’s tongue was curling itself around his head, soaking his cock with a sudden warmth. Mingi’s hand flew to the wall, then his thigh and, finally, Yunho's hair, needing to grab a fistful of something to keep him steady.

Yunho tilted his chin, relaxing into Mingi’s touch and exposing the length of his neck towards the ceiling. Still, he stayed connected via his tongue. Mingi gulped loudly at the sight of Yunho’s throat swallowing, which was suddenly looking very empty to him.

The soft stimulation prompted beads of creamy white to escape from Mingi’s cock, directly onto the flat surface of Yunho’s tongue. He moaned at the taste and vibrations surrounded Mingi’s stirring cock head. Embarrassingly and against his will, Mingi pushed forward a bit, cock sliding across Yunho’s tongue and spreading the pre-cum all over the wet muscle.

“Sorry.” Mingi sheepishly apologized as he returned his hips to where they were before but, to his surprise, Yunho bobbed his head. He artificially repeated the motion over and over until the entirety of the cock’s head was trapped inside Yunho’s mouth. His tongue was running indulgent laps as it circled the pulsing tip.

Mingi was a panting mess. He wasn’t sure if he should speak. Should he tell Yunho how it felt? Would that be too much?

It was then that Yunho’s gaze flickered up to make eye contact with Mingi. His eyes were glossy as though he was stuck in that moment. Mingi’s stomach did a flip at the sight. He was waiting for Mingi’s approval.

“It feels good, you know?” Mingi whispered as the fist in Yunho’s hair released to scratch at his scalp. Mingi didn’t exactly sound confident but Yunho could tell the words were genuine considering how the other boy was falling apart above him. The upper half of Yunho’s face lit up with a would-be smile at the praise.

Meanwhile, his mouth stayed open wide, lips surrounding Mingi’s cock with a gentle suction, before pushing forward slowly. Yunho didn’t look away, not even once, as Mingi watched his cock disappear inch by inch inside his friend's mouth.

“Jesus, Yunho...” He hissed as more of his shaft was coated with the slippery friction from Yunho’s spit.

Yunho was only two inches from fully swallowing Mingi’s cock before he came to a halt. As he paused, he shifted with discomfort on his knees. The breathing from his nose became more erratic, puffs of warm air bouncing off of Mingi’s pelvis. It was clear he had reached his limit. Even while he couldn’t get Mingi’s dick all the way down, his determination was admirable. Cute, even. It was especially impressive considering Mingi presumed it was Yunho’s first time doing this. 

Mingi dropped his hand to fall behind Yunho’s ear, rubbing his neck with a long thumb. Not experienced with dominant dirty talk, he merely offered a simple smile to let him know it was okay to retreat.

When Yunho began to pull back, Mingi caught sight of a bulge in his throat deflating as his dick reappeared. The thought of being that deep inside any of Yunho’s holes made him shudder with excitement.

Less than a second of the cold dressing room air had cruelly returned before Mingi’s dick was throbbing with need again. The shaft was a reddened, slobbery mess as Yunho cupped him against his hands before returning his mouth to the leaking tip.

Now, when Yunho bobbed down on the cock, his movements were more confident, knowing his limits and puffing up with pride over his abilities. Once he reached the checkpoint, he twisted two slippery hands over the base to make up the difference, fully covering Mingi’s large cock in one way or another.

This time, when Yunho pulled back, he tried sucking in his cheeks. He was so concentrated on making Mingi feel good, eyebrows furrowed in a way Mingi would’ve thought was adorable had the air not been just knocked out of his lungs by the new sensation of suction inside Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho never let the tip leave his lips before taking the entire shaft deep into his mouth again, producing extra spit only to suck it up again when he pulled back. It was clear he was enjoying himself discovering his newfound talent. 

Not as much as Mingi was enjoying himself.

The feeling was unlike anything Mingi had ever experienced. Yunho’s mouth was like being surrounded by an always-moving, sopping-wet warmth. The boy on his knees took the term ‘sucking’ dick very literally. Wet and sloppy sounds echoed through the tiny room as Yunho slurped at his cock. 

Mingi was fully collapsed against the wall at this point, fighting gravity to keep himself standing. His moans were deep, guttural and spurring Yunho to move even faster, knowing that Mingi must be close. 

He was. Mingi was seconds away from cumming and already panicking over where he was going to finish. As pretty as he would be covered in streaks of white, Yunho was already in his stage clothes and makeup, ruling out that option. Alternatively, it wasn’t like Mingi could just leave a puddle of his release on the green room floor. The clock was ticking and Mingi didn’t have any alternatives left.

Yunho, more intuitive than Mingi was aware of, must’ve sensed his panic. He looked up at Mingi as though he was trying to tell him something, eventually slowing his neck’s momentum to a standstill and grabbed his attention.

As Mingi’s eyes were full of panic, Yunho eased his fears with a small nod of approval, motions mostly restricted by his throat accommodating the deep curve of Mingi’s cock. Yunho’s eyes were glistening with tears but dark with determination. He was ready to let Mingi take over.

Mingi whimpered, clawing at the wall as he realized what Yunho was telling him. 

“In your mouth? Are you sure?”

A gurgle escaped from the back of Yunho’s throat as he pushed his limits even further, allowing the cock to sit the deepest it had been. Despite his gagging, his actions were entirely permissive, knowing he wouldn’t have to endure the pain for long before Mingi would finish.

Dormant hips sprung into motion, sliding back at first and dragging his cock along the inside of Yunho’s mouth. Strings of thick saliva followed the path, dripping from Yunho’s bruised lips. Carelessly, Mingi’s ass hit the wall with a thud with how roughly he fucked backwards, making Yunho wince in preparation for him to return.

When his hips snapped forward, it wasn’t as bad as Yunho expected. Sure, Mingi was rough in his desperation but the slickness of collected spit gave the cock a smooth re-entrance past Yunho’s lips, into his mouth, and down into his raw throat. Yunho couldn’t help but moan as he felt himself loosen up to accommodate, hoping that the sound got concealed beneath the low sounds of Mingi’s own pleasure.

Mingi fucked his willing mouth again and again, inching just a little deeper each time whether he knew it or not.

“Yunho. Feels good.” Mingi grunted out, unable to conceive proper sentences as his vision was flashing white with fast growing pleasure. “So good. Fuck.”

With the added motion of Mingi’s thrusts, those final two inches that he couldn’t quite conquer seemed like a task from forever ago, Yunho’s throat gladly opening itself up to accommodate until Mingi’s cock was buried completely. It wasn’t long until his nose was bumping against a set of abs.

Ready to be emptied, Mingi’s heavy balls smacked against Yunho’s chin with each greedy snap of his hips. It should’ve been humiliating but Yunho found himself arching into the motions. It felt good to have Mingi use him.

Yunho kept his needy gaze up at Mingi, watching the way his mouth fell agape and the muscles in his jaw clenched. His chest was heaving as he got closer and closer to completion. The sight inspired Yunho to work through the increasing soreness to help Mingi succumb to his pleasure.

“Ah!” Mingi yelled loudly and abruptly, followed by several softer stutters. His hips suddenly began to jerk in a rhythmless pattern he couldn’t quite control and then the first hot spurt of cum splashed against the back of Yunho’s throat. The second erupted into the cavern of his mouth as Mingi fell back further, shaking with pleasure.

Yunho hollowed his cheeks, not allowing Mingi to retreat any more and trapping the twitching cock inside his mouth. He sucked deeply and used the rest of his energy to relax the entire length of his throat and milk Mingi’s shaft until he was empty.

Mingi’s head fell back in awe as Yunho’s tongue lapped every last drop of cum that emerged from the hole on his tip. He was going above and beyond at this point, the aftershocks of Mingi’s orgasm already starting to subside.

“You can stop if you want.” Mingi’s voice was shaky, hoping Yunho wouldn’t take him up on the offer. The gentle warmth felt nice against his softening cock, easing him back to reality gradually instead of all at once.

“Mm, I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Yunho croaked out against his dick, giving the tip one final kiss before letting it fall limp against Mingi’s thigh.

They paused for a brief moment to catch their breath. Mingi dropped a hand to Yunho’s shoulder, giving it a soft massage as a thanks. “Are you okay?” 

Yunho tried to answer but, at first, the words got caught on their way out. Clearing his throat, Yunho choked out a laugh at the discovery of how raw his throat was. “It’s a good thing I didn’t plan to sing live tonight.”

Mingi giggled at the half-joke before yanking up his oversized pants, needing both hands to hold the flowy fabric up so they wouldn’t fall again. Kindly, Yunho helped him tuck the now satisfied cock away before zipping up his fly.

“You know you might have less of a problem if you just wore underwear?” Yunho poked roughly at the downsized but still prominent bulge in Mingi’s pants.

“But it’s uncomfy.” Mingi whined, clearly more willing to go the lengths of jerking off before a performance rather than just wear another layer. Tired and needing to conserve his energy, Yunho rolled his eyes and found another spare phone to check the time. He clicked on the homescreen with little care for the fact that one of their fellow member’s phones was currently being contaminated with Mingi’s dick particles.

“Was that really only ten minutes?” Yunho’s eyes widened at the screen and Mingi went red in the cheeks. “Guess I’m pretty good at that, huh?”

“Yeah. You could say that…” Mingi nodded, getting shy again as the realization set in that his best friend’s lips were just around his cock and they were already back to business as usual. That is, if they didn’t count how disheveled they both looked from the aftermath. Mingi ruffled his hair back to look as close as possible to how the stylists left it.

Not having too much time to dwell on what their new experience meant for their friendship, a loud knock on the door made both boys jump out of their skin. The knock was only a warning as the hinges creaked and the door swung wide, trapping Mingi behind it.

Panicked and then relieved, Mingi stumbled against a plastic knob on the wall, the room falling into darkness just in time for someone to enter the doorway.

“Yunho, are you in here?” Hongjoong’s voice carried through the small room until he saw Yunho by the mirror, hopefully only looking like he woke up from the best nap of his life and nothing else. Definitely nothing else…

“Hey, what are you doing in the dark?”  Luckily, he couldn’t see Mingi. His voice continued. “And why are you on my phone?”

Mingi cringed when Hongjoong snatched the phone back and placed it on the counter. He thankfully had no idea where Yunho’s hands had just been and he would probably never find out.

“Just checking the time.” Yunho replied nonchalantly, rubbing at his jaw.

“Yes, we’re on soon!” Hongjoong sounded excited. Enthusiastic about even the task of coraling up his fellow members for their performance. He seemed too distracted to notice Yunho dabbing away at his lips to clean himself off.

He patted Yunho on the back for encouragement before turning to leave out the open door. “Can you find Mingi on your way back too? We don’t know where he is.”

“Sure thing, Hyung!” Yunho did a goofy salute, playing the clueless role with ease as he bid Hongjoong farewell out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving both Yunho and Mingi in the pitch dark.

“Hey Yunho,” Mingi whispered loudly, as though the darkness would make it harder to hear.

“Hm?” Yunho’s boots squeaked as he turned to face the voice.

“I think I found the light switch.”

.

.

.

[taetaespeaches]

“To me, he’s everything.”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 2.9K beta reader(s): @stayjimin​

a/n: Hi lovelies! Why did I decide to write sad Tae? To make us all suffer perhaps? This is about Tae going through some stuff and writing pieces of Blue & Grey (with the english lyrics bc this is early stages) and Peaches trying to provide him comfort. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Waking up in the early morning, the sky was still dark making it difficult to see your surroundings. Grunting to yourself you lightly tossed underneath the comforter. Sighing, you reached out to feel the empty spot next to you, confirming your suspicions that your lover had left the bed sometime earlier in the night.

Sitting up, you focused your gaze on the dark shape of your dresser across the room as you listened closely for sounds outside the bedroom. Hearing none, you lifted yourself from the bed, a blanket in tow as you made your way out of the room.

The hallway was lit up from the glow of the living room light, and as you wrapped the blanket over your shoulders, your ears perked at the sound of Taehyung’s low timbre humming a mix of words and incoherent melody.

Stepping quietly across the floor, you listened intently to the few words you could understand. “I just wanna be happier,” rang in your ears, your heart pounding at the weight of the lyrics that came straight from your boyfriend’s mouth. Standing in the living room just feet away from where he sat on the floor, Taehyung took notice of you, his mouth opening in surprise.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, his eyes wide with guilt though you gently shook your head. “You sure?”

“Maybe your absence,” you smiled softly. He tried to return the expression, but it failed to meet his eyes. And that was the smile you’d been receiving for the past few weeks. His famous boxy grin, your favorite, was being flashed around much less in the recent days. “It’s like I can feel when you’re gone,” you told him quietly.

He didn’t respond, instead leaning back on his hands to support himself as he stared at your disheveled appearance. With a small head nod gesturing for you to go to him, you quickly and easily obliged.

You would have to be completely oblivious to not notice the man’s mood change in the past weeks; how he had more low days than high. It wasn’t the first time Tae had gone through something like this. He had a habit of pulling away and dealing with his emotions and thoughts in private, and you had learned over your several years of friendship to give him the space to work through it all before he would eventually come to you for help with whatever feelings remained.

But this bout seemed to hit him harder than in the past. And he hadn’t come to you yet.

Sitting next to him, you both stared into each other’s eyes, his darkened circles prominent on his golden skin.

“You look tired,” he noted, your eyebrows raising slightly. Sliding the banket of your shoulders, you draped it over yours and Taehyung’s laps.

“So do you,” you countered, the man’s lips curving upward just the tiniest bit as you tucked the blanket around his thighs. “Are you ever gonna share this track with me that’s been taking up so much of your time?” You questioned, playing up your jealousy of the subject of his attention.

“Are you feeling neglected, Peaches?” He teased, a glint flashing over his eyes for a quick moment that had your lungs exhaling in a brief relief.

“Of course not,” you smirked. “But like, I did wake up alone only to find you out here canoodling with this song again so,” you trailed off, Taehyung letting out a low chuckle, amused by your feigned bitterness for his newest creation.

“What was that?” He asked, your eyebrows raising in question. “Canood- what?”

“Canoodling,” you giggled lightly. He flashed you a look of confusion, a smile overtaking your features at how cute he appeared. “It means, like, cuddling,” you paused, “I think?” For the first time in a few days, Taehyung’s boxy smile overtook his face, meeting his eyes for just a brief moment. “Maybe that wasn’t the right word,” you thought aloud as Taehyung’s hand found yours, his fingers lightly squeezing yours.

Raising your hand to his lips, he left a sweet kiss to the back of it. “You’re the only one I want to canoodle with,” he assured you lightheartedly, you squinting at him skeptically.

“Well that’s just not true, I caught you cuddled up with Jungkook just last week,” you pointed out, Taehyung chuckling as he dropped his head so he looked down toward his lap. Watching him carefully, you admired the way his low laugh tumbled from his pretty lips. When he looked back toward you, his eyes widened.

“What?” He asked, taken aback by your intent stare.

Shaking your head, you turned your hand in his grasp to intertwine your fingers with his own. “What’s been going on, Dearest?” You asked him, your voice soft and quiet, gentle and concerned. He gave you a questioning expression, silently asking you to elaborate, though you both knew where the conversation was headed. “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

The man stared at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your features, clocking the concern etched within them. Sighing, he shrugged.

“Are you ok?” You asked him, watching as he clenched his jaw, shrugging once more. “Oh, baby,” you whispered through a small pout, squeezing his hand as he took a deep breath, attempting to calm his emotions.

Leaning toward him, you wrapped your other arm around his head, holding him so his face was placed in the crook of your neck. When his body shook slightly, you let go of his hand to bring your arms around his body, cradling him against you.

Neither of you spoke for several minutes, instead simply embracing each other as you allowed Taehyung the space and comfort to feel his feelings. Eventually, he lifted his head from your neck, his face level with yours though he avoided your eyes. Lifting your hands to his face, you gently used your thumbs to wipe under his eyes before flattening your palms against his cheeks to dab the wetness from them.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you sooner,” you told him, your voice soft but adamant, Taehyung’s eyes snapping to meet yours.

“Peaches, no,” he shook his head, though you cut him off with your own negation.

“No, I knew something was wrong, but I was just waiting for you to come to me,” you told him. “I should have talked to you sooner,” you insisted, one of your hands falling from his face to your lap, the other sliding down to his shoulder where you simply kept it, to show him you were there. You weren’t going anywhere.

Taking another deep breath in, Taehyung shook his head once more. Reaching for his phone, you watched as he tapped on the screen a few times before his low vocals resonated from the speaker, replaying the sounds you heard earlier that night.

The lyrics were a mix of random mumblings with stunning but sad lines of English that proved every suspicion you had of Taehyung being sad and lost.

“I’m sick and tired of everything, someone come save myself ‘cause I can’t take it anymore.”

He was crying out for help in this song; help from himself, his own mind. The man was begging for someone to come to his aid, just to lessen the pain.

“Every time I cry, every time I smile, can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and grey.”

As you watched him carefully, his gaze set on the phone in his hands as the soundwaves went up and down with his vocals, tears filled your eyes. Taehyung’s fans often took his quietness as a warning sign for how he was feeling. However, growing up alongside Taehyung, you’d witnessed the shift from an excitable young boy to a slightly less excitable grown man. You’d been there with him as his personality developed; matured.

No, his silence was never a warning sign for you. It could be quite comforting, actually. The warning sign was when his smile failed to meet his eyes. You’d seen it over the past days, weeks. Staring at him as the melody cut through the heavy air, all you could think was, why didn’t I help you, Dearest?

“I just wanna be happier, baby don’t you let me go.” The lyrics melted into sounds again before he sang melancholically, “Wish I could be stronger.” The recording cut, and Taehyung’s eyes stayed on the phone screen.

Squeezing his shoulder lightly, you dragged your hand toward the back of his neck so your fingers could sooth across his nape. “It’s beautiful,” you croaked, clearing your voice as Taehyung’s gaze shot up to meet yours, the emotion in your tone startling him. “It is,” you told him sincerely.

“Thank you,” he barely muttered, his eyes alert, his shoulders raised as if he was holding his breath.

“When you’re not ok, I’ll be your rock, you know,” you assured him, an exhale leaving his lips just before he wet them with a swipe of his tongue. “I should have addressed it sooner, but I know now,” you added with a small nod. “So lean on me.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” he resisted, though you could see in his eyes he desperately wanted the shoulder you were offering to him.

“Tae,” you breathed out with a small smile. “You’re too considerate for your own good, you know that?” Scoffing in response, he licked his lips once more. “You could never burden me. I’m your partner,” you whispered, your hand moving to cradle his jaw as you spoke to him.

With a sigh, his shoulders relaxed just as he leaned into your touch, resting his chin in your hand just slightly. You could feel the weight of it, and you were thankful for it.

“I just-” his lip trembled. “I have this great life,” he mumbled as his face contorted just the tiniest bit, tears brimming his eyelid but not yet falling. “I have this dream career, partner,” he nodded to you, “home life,” he glanced to the open room. “I have great friends, all these fans,” he shook his head as a tear slid down his cheek, collecting on the flesh of your thumb. “And yet, I’m still so fucking lost,” he sighed in frustration.

Instead of speaking, you moved your hand to gently swipe under his eyes with your thumb. “I don’t know, it’s just stupid,” he directed his gaze across the room, his stare intense though he wasn’t looking at anything in particular.

Shaking your head, you leaned into his line of vision, pulling his attention to you. “It’s not stupid, baby,” you spoke softly to him. “It’s human.”

“What kind of person feels this way when they have all these great things?” He questioned, making you pull your eyebrows together in a slight glare. “I’m sitting here with a woman who loves me and cares for me and I’m crying about feeling lonely and worthless,” he admitted in frustration. “I didn’t even want to tell you about all of this because I don’t want you thinking you’re not enough for me.”

“Tae, I’m not so naïve to think I can be the savior of all your days,” you locked your gaze on his as you spoke to him. “I know you love me, but I’m just a piece of your life, I’m one source of happiness,” you shrugged while shaking your head.

“You’re more than that,” he said sternly, frustrated by your downplayed importance in his life.

“I know that, and I hope I can lessen the pain and make things easier, but I’m never going to be able to make everything ok,” you explained to him. And that was the sad truth. No matter how much you loved him, you could never take his pain away. “That’s just not how things work.” Staring at each other, he gave you a small nod of understanding. “Coming to me with this isn’t going to make me feel insufficient or like I’m not part of your happiness,” you finished, Taehyung nodding as he pulled your hand from his face and held onto it tightly.

As you looked into his gaze, you could see further sadness swirling around his orbs. His irises were the same pretty brown, but the warmth was faded. The cold emotion in them made them appear like a desaturated version of themselves, appearing as an ashen grey.

“What else are you thinking?” You prodded, gently, but insistently.

Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he exhaled deeply, preparing to share more of the feelings he’d been keeping contained behind his stunning features.

“There’s a few things I know about myself,” he started, your attention fully on him as he opened his thoughts with the mysterious statement. “And that’s that I love you, I love my family, and I love being on stage with the guys in front of our fans. And this year I’ve seen how easily that part of me can be stripped away,” he nodded at his own words as your heart felt like it stilled. Because the stage was the one thing you couldn’t give him or assure him of its existence. “And it’s going to happen someday for good.”

You watched him thoughtfully as he explored his own thoughts, gathering them into words that he could speak, in hopes that you would understand.

“And I guess-” he shrugged. “Who’s left without that part of me?”

Without thinking over your response, you answered him with two words. “Kim Taehyung.” His eyes held your own as you cocked your head at him. “He’s left.”

“But who is he?” He asked, his fragile tone making him sound small.

Who is Kim Taehyung? You could fill book after book answering that question, as he was everything.

A small smile curved on your lips as you thought about who Kim Taehyung was to you. “I can’t tell you who he is to you,” you began, locking your eyes with his before you allowed your orbs to drag across his features, appreciating the man, drinking him in. “But to me, he’s everything.”

And at that simple statement, as you stared at your boyfriend’s lips, you noticed the way they just slightly quirked upward before he corrected the expression, remaining serious and self-doubting.

“You know the guy on stage is incredible,” you continued. “V is special and he’s amazing, but this guy right here,” you nodded to him, “sitting in his pajamas, expressing his fears and concerns,” you grinned. “He’s the most brilliant person I’ve ever known.” You watched as his jaw tightened, an obvious sign of the emotion that was bubbling within him.

“You glow, Taehyung. With and without V,” you told him sincerely, your voice becoming shaky as your own emotions made themselves present. “And I don’t mean to downplay that piece of you because he is you and he’s amazing and he’s helped you grow and become this incredible human being, but I just hope you know that with or without that part of yourself, you’re still a masterpiece,” you ranted, in a race to beat the incoming tears. “I hope you can look at yourself one day and see what I see. If only you could spend one day in my shoes and see yourself how I see you.”

The man’s body trembled as he brought a hand to his face, shielding it from you as he cried.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you shook your head, pulling his hand from his eyes. “Don’t hide from me.”

Taking a shaky breath, letting it out with a quiver of his pout, you smiled at him. “That boy who approached me on the street when we were kids wasn’t V. That was Kim Taehyung. The man who makes me toast with jam in the mornings isn’t V. That’s Kim Taehyung. The friend who’s been my shoulder to lean on and cry on all these years, the lover who supports me and believes in me, that’s all Kim Taehyung.”

With tears trickling down your face, mimicking Taehyung’s own emotions, you giggled at the pout on his lips that made him look like a younger version of himself.

“What?” He questioned, a small smile spreading on his lips, almost rectangular but not quite.

“You look like you’re seventeen,” you grinned, sitting up on your knees and inching towards him so you hovered above him, Taehyung’s youthful, tearful gaze looking up at you.

“I can’t fix this, and I can’t make you feel complete, and I can’t take away your concern for the future,” you told him with a small frown. “But I can be here to hold your hand and assure you that you’re going to be ok, whether you believe it right now or not. It’s ok to feel this way, I just don’t want you to feel like you have no one if you’re not on a stage,” you leaned toward him, pushing his dark wavy fringe out of his face to leave a sweet kiss to his forehead. Wrapping your arms around his head, you held his face against your chest as you left another kiss to his hair.

“You have people who love you, but most importantly, you have Kim Taehyung. And he’s my favorite person,” you smiled as you mumbled against his hair. The man hugged around your waist, holding you even closer to him. “I think you’re going to learn to love him,” you whispered through your grin. “He’s pretty fucking lovable.”