#the bloody bandage is great

[hirkyy]

[melancholyhigh]

ALL MINE.

ft. leon x f!reader

synopsis. you realize you're in love with your roommate. it sucks that he's ignoring you all of a sudden.

content. 4.7k words. smut. slight jealousy/possessiveness, subby leon, dry humping, handjob, finger sucking, praise & degradation kink, unprotected p in v (riding), overstimulation, creampie, slight subspace.

note. i had mental anguish while writing this so i apologize if it's not my best. i'm also sorry for being so inactive :((

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs <3

Leon S. Kennedy was probably the best roommate you could’ve asked for.

He had fit the criteria you hand conjured for the perfect housemate the first time you met. Leon was calm, and the apartment was pretty clean. From what you can tell, he cared enough about himself and his surroundings. 

Hell, the place looked almost uninhabited save for some trinkets and a few bits of his personality sprinkled about.

Only if you had known what you were getting yourself into when you had agreed to become his roommate.

–-

The first month of residing with Leon was great. You rarely crossed paths and never really communicated with each other due to how stressful looking for a new job was, and then proceeding to attend said job was tiring enough for you to make little social interactions.

He was relatively closed off as well. Not talking to you unless necessary or common courtesy such as a simple ‘Good morning.’

After you settled in, you noticed how much of a strange man Leon was. For one, when he did go to work, he left for weeks at a time, and in his return, he was even more closed off somehow. Leon doesn’t spare you a glance or a greeting, only grunting if you ask if he is alright.

He’s also covered in bruises and bandages, leaving you more concerned.

It made you question who really was your roommate.

In the first meeting you and Leon had, you inquired about his job, mostly to try and figure out how your schedule would work, but also with genuine interest. At the time, he merely shrugged, not answering your question point blank, telling you not to worry about it. 

He mentioned his past job as a police officer. You’d dare to ask him more about it, but you didn’t want to pry, leaving the questions for another day.

Lately, you’ve been wishing more than ever that he had answered the question instead of dodging it. In rare moments that you focus on anything else but your job, it often leads you to think about Leon and what he does while he’s away.

It annoys you too that he doesn’t tell you when he’s leaving. He doesn’t owe it to you, but some nights you think he’s getting a drink, only to return a few days later bloodied and bruised.

One night, your overthinking got the worst of you after Leon returned to your apartment in the worst condition you’ve seen in the past few months you’ve been living with him.

Up late, you were in the shared living room, wondering when he’d get home. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Leon. It was way longer than his usual business days. You had been worrying nonstop, not getting a wink of sleep. Was he dead? You’d be the first suspect on the list.

You had called him multiple times, all going to voicemail. That is until you heard the faint creaking of the front door. There he walked in, faced all fucked up. His lip busted, sporting ugly yellow and purple bruises all over the exposed flesh of his body, and a bandage wrapped around his left hand blotted with dry blood.

He was awkwardly shuffling into the room, trying not to wake, you presume. A bit late for that. 

“Where the hell were you, Leon?” your voice breaks the early morning silence. 

You see him jump slightly in surprise, almost dropping his bag. A different emotion washes through him. A mix of fright and guilt, it’s different from what you’re used to seeing him with.

Leon quickly composes himself, going back to his stoic expression. Taking his shoes caked in mud off at the front door, resting his bag down, he walks over to the kitchen opening the fridge. The light streams out, illuminating the kitchen as you follow him, awaiting an answer.

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it?” His back is turned to you, rummaging through the contents of the fridge.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” you stress with exhaustion, eyeing his injuries. “What the fuck happened to you.”

He flexes his broad shoulder before turning around to face you. His gaze pins you down before he’s back to ignoring you as he chugs the cold bottled water in his grasp. The fridge is still open, and it adds more nuisance within you.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs. He finally shuts the fridge close, only the moon’s light filtering into the room. “Why do you care, anyways?”

“‘Cause when you go missing, I’ll be the one locked up, Leon,” you say. He’s staring at you, trying to suppress a smirk. 

“You sure it’s not ‘cause you like me? I’m here to stay.” Is this fucker teasing you? He’s nothing like you first met him. Maybe it’s the blood loss. But to be fair, this is the first proper conversation you’ve had with him in months — you didn’t know how he actually was. 

Rolling your eyes, you ignore him, shifting your focus to his bandaged hand, blood seeping through the fabric. 

“Let me take a look at that, please,” you urge, taking his hand into yours. You overlook the questions blooming in your mind to tend to his injury.

“Okay.”

You turn the lights on, searching for a first aid kit. Once you retrieve it, you’re back in front of Leon, who’s sat patiently at the dining table. 

You roll the sleeves of your sweatshirt up before carefully peeling the fabric sticking to his bloody skin. The large gash on the back of his hand makes you uneasy. It’s deep, almost to the bone, and blood spills onto his pale skin.

“Your stitches reopened,” you tell him, cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. What did he do to warrant such an injury? “If it worsens, you need to go to the hospital.” 

“Mhm, you work with patients?” You shake your head, wrapping the wound with fresh gauze. 

“What’s your job, then?”

You scoffed, “Some office job. What’s got you busy, huh?”

“Some government bullshit.”

–-

That night the relationship you had with your roommate shifted. For the better, you supposed. 

You also bonded better with him the following morning while driving him to the hospital. He was so dramatic, yet he continued to undermine his clearly serious injury, refusing to go. The bleeding had not stopped, and you were worried it could get infected.

He was such a baby. You had bargained with him for his own health, promising to do his chores for a whole month so his hand doesn’t get amputated. 

You never really did figure out what his job was, but you guessed it was most likely confidential. It was a vague answer to your question. He could be lying, but once you’re not behind bars, you can’t complain.

You and Leon spent more time with each other.

Even though you had no idea what his job was, he did tell you why he couldn’t disclose such information, something along the lines of putting your safety in jeopardy. Wasn’t him as your roommate just as dangerous? But you didn’t bother. He had his reasons.

Leon, on the other hand, probably learned too much about you and your job. 

You weren’t familiar with the city or the people, so it was nice to talk to someone, and you may have gone overboard. You were here for a better quality of life, and it was significantly better than where you previously lived. 

You loathed your job. Your co-workers were so condescending and passive-aggressive. Not to mention, you couldn’t quit. It paid enough for you to shut your mouth. Well, not to Leon.

You’re sure he’s sick of you talking and complaining. And when you’re not complaining, you both still get along about other stuff. You mostly banter, though, because Leon is such a child.

The guy can barely care for himself, contradicting what you initially thought about him. You care for him most nights after his so-called ‘missions.’ You rebandage his wounds, scolding him for not caring about himself while he’s looped up on pain meds.

Any other night — when he’s actively not trying to get killed, and you’re not incredibly busy — you both get drunk to attempt to forget about responsibilities. Often you were spouting drunken, nonsensical rambles as Leon somehow listened to.

Ironically enough, Leon cared about your well-being more than you do. Maybe you’re delusional, but you swear he does more than a normal roommate should. It’s because you’re constantly checking up on him, you reasoned. He’s just a respectable person.

But what kind of roommate consistently asks about how you’re going? What roommate get you your favourite takeout when you’re not feeling your best? What roommate threatens to beat the shit out of your annoying co-workers?

But you’ve acknowledged that Leon wasn’t your average housemate. Not just his job, but who the fuck looks that good when they’re bleeding out?

–-

Your job has a celebration upcoming, the company’s 50th anniversary. You barely made it a year working for the place, but you want to make a good impression. You also don’t want to bore yourself to death, so why not coerce your lovely roommate to join you as your plus one?

“I’m not gonna go. Don’t you hate that place?” You stare up at him, sulking. 

“Good impressions,” you say before pleading, “C’mon, Leon, please. We can go to the bar after.”

He gives you an unimpressed look before turning away from you.

“I’ll pay for you.” You’re going to go broke because of this man. It catches his attention. 

“So desperate,” he chuckles.

“You’re going?”

“I’m gonna run you dry.”

–-

You definitely weren’t prepared to see Leon in a suit when you exited your room. He’s sat on the couch, his hand nervously running through his hair — notably slicked down with gel. 

“You that serious about making me go bankrupt?” You voice jokingly, breaking Leon out of his thoughts.

His eyes trail along your body, admiring the dress you wore — how it hugs the curves of your body — noticeably gulping as he stands up. The black suit fits his body, accentuating his broad physique and nice ass.

“I keep my promises. I hope you do too.” He says, before mumbling, “You look nice as well.”

You smile at him, ignoring the unusual feeling blooming in your stomach.

The event was indeed incredibly bland. You’re glad you bribed Leon into joining you. He’s been your saving grace. His sly quips and awful jokes have made the experience increasingly more bearable.

Your enjoyment seemed to fizzle when your co-workers wanted to converse with you. They never did before. Why would they now?

Then you realize too late that they’re not here for you. They’re there for the attractive male next to you. You watch in amusement as the girl blatantly ignores you in favour of Leon.

She’s sweet, you’d imagine, but Leon looks awkward, and there’s an uneasy feeling bubbling in your gut as she squeezes his arm in a flirting manner. The feeling is unlike what you’ve felt earlier.

You could go for a drink right now. 

The poor girl’s attempt at seducing Leon goes on longer than you’d like. He’s uncomfortable, and you admire her persistence, but it’s getting on your nerves.

Didn’t she get the memo? He’s your plus one.

You decide to interrupt their conversation, you’re not particularly proud of it, but you want to get drunk. Maybe you’re doing Leon a favour as well.

You pull him away, not offering an explanation, just the promise of getting wasted. 

When you’re at the bar, you both get settled, conversing and taking shots, all on you, of course.

Leon mentions that he understands why you hate your job and colleagues, and you laugh lightly at his claims. While you two talk, a few guys approach you, trying to get your number or asking to buy you a drink, ignoring Leon.

It wasn’t a usual occurrence, but it happened more often than not. And even though you find it flattering, it did begin to irritate you.

You politely declined their requests with an uncomfortable smile on your lips. It felt wrong to indulge in their proposals in front of Leon.

Leon’s eyes gleam with an unknown emotion as another guy approaches you. His grasp on the glass tightens, and it looks like it's about to shatter.

You once again deny the request. As you get more tipsy, your filter worsens as you half-heartedly refuse the poor guy. He walks away, visibly irritated. 

“That’s the fifth guy to ask for your number,” Leon states, taking a swig of his whiskey. His grip on the glass loosens, but his shoulders are still tense. 

You roll your eyes at his over-exaggeration. His suit’s jacket is off, revealing the white button-up shirt underneath. 

“I wasn’t interested. A few girls asked you out, too,” you declared bitterly. You’re not drunk per se, just very tipsy. 

“They’re not my type.”

“What’s your type?” Taking a sip from your drink, you observe Leon shake his head before downing his glass.

“Having fun?” you inquire, and Leon’s grateful you changed the topic.

“Liquor’s better when it’s free.”

–-

It’s the next day, and you haven’t seen Leon since. 

When you woke up, you had a pounding headache. You walked into the kitchen expecting to be greeted by an equally shit-faced Leon, but he was nowhere to be found. It was unlike him.

Usually, he’s already making fun of you for being a lightweight, and you attempt to make breakfast together. He’s probably still in bed. He did drink more than expected. It was a miracle you both got home in one piece.

You took some painkillers before heading back to bed. If you’re up to it, maybe you’ll make breakfast later. 

A few hours have passed, and still no sign of Leon. You wonder if he went to work, but that didn’t make sense. Why would he go to work with a hangover? Leon was a bit careless, though.

He was most likely ignoring you. That would be the last thing you wanted. He was the only person you cared to talk as pathetic as it sounds. Did you say something last night that upset him? He was his usual self, but you probably were too drunk to notice something off.  

He probably has work-related things to worry about. Not everything was about you. Though, you were still concerned.

You had camped in the kitchen for a while, waiting for Leon so you could confront him. You wanted to make sure he was alright.

When he did enter the kitchen, you tried to start a conversation, only for him to dismiss you entirely. He refused to respond to your troubles, getting what he needed and returning to his room. 

You thought it was a one-off thing, but sadly it wasn’t. Leon ignored you the following days, leaving you perplexed. You wished Leon would talk to you about what’s going on. Isn’t that what friends do? Communicate? Every attempt you tried to make was fruitless.

All he’s been doing was ignoring you, and it broke your heart.

His sudden indifference reminded you of when you first moved in. This abrupt disinterest in you left you staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, reflecting on your relationship with Leon. 

You despise how he’s been acting lately. 

You despise his reckless behaviour. You despise his hair that falls so perfectly. You despise how considerate he is. You despise how sweet he is to you. You despise how attractive he looks when he walks about the place shirtless, in short shorts that barely contain the flesh of his thighs and lay low on his hips when he’s sweaty after working out.

You despised how other girls looked at Leon. You despised how other guys looked at you, wishing it were him.

But you don’t hate him, far from it.

You loved his company. From the first night to the night at the bar. You wouldn’t want him to share that with anyone else. He was familiar, so it hurts that he’s been ignoring you. 

He’s treating the moments you’ve had with him seemingly worthless, the time you’ve shared — the late nights when you cared for him. The insecurities you have confided with him. Did it mean anything to him?

He most likely wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you doubt he could. His job explains itself, but you’re still worried as a friend — as his roommate.

Your overthinking has got the best of you, and fuck it. You’re going to confront Leon, whether he likes it or not.

–-

You’ve been building the courage to knock on his door for 20 minutes, pacing back and forth in front of his room door. You didn’t want to make him hate you more, but his bitchy attitude made you wonder why you even liked him in the first place.

Knocking on his door, you instantly regretted it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself, but you had to face him sooner or later. The door surprisingly opens, presenting you with a tired Leon dressed in nothing but his boxers. You probably just woke him up.

When you meet his soft gaze, his brows furrow, and he scowls. It’s been a while since he’s looked at you, so you can take what you can get. 

“What do you want?” Leon dully asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest as he leans on the door’s framing. Okay, so he’s talking to you after a week of silence, granted, not like he used to, but it’s something.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you counter bluntly, glaring at him. His facade crumbles, shoulders dropping as he frowns. He quickly recovers, scoffing and looking anywhere but at you.

“What are you talking about–” 

“I’m not a dumbass, Leon. Just why? Are you okay?” you quickly cut off his poor excuse of a response. He shakes his head, his messy hair concealing his eyes as he tries to reply.

The look you’re sending him gives him goosebumps as if you’re reading him with just a glance. You are, and it’s terrifying yet so arousing that you can do so easily. Your eyes don’t leave him, trying to figure out his problems. It’s equally arousing how much you care for him, looking through him like he’s glass. 

His composure crashes, stuttering an answer you’re unable to pick up. You stare at him, confused at his sudden nervous behaviour. 

Leon’s selfish for wanting you all to himself. He doesn’t want to hurt himself with the rejection that you may throw his way. He doesn’t want to feel like that even though your actions say otherwise. He wants to tell you that, but what he says is much more pathetic.

“God, it’s you,” he repeats. The look of disappointment that crosses your face hurts. It hurt that he’s the one that made you look so broken so quickly.

“What?” Your voice falters, but you’re curious despite the ache in your chest. You’re not surprised. Maybe, a bit shattered.

“Not like that. I mean, fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he tries to formulate his words, a blush dispersing on his pale cheeks. 

“I was fucking mad, okay? Not at you– never at you. I hated how those guys looked at you. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. You’re my roommate, for fucks sake, but–” He continues to ramble on, and the words he spews give you whiplash. 

You’re simultaneously flattered by his words and pissed. He was acting like a prick because he was jealous. As much as you were annoyed by his immature behaviour, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies swarming your stomach.

You impulsively crash your lips into his. He stops his rambling, startled, before melting into the kiss, his long lashes fluttering close. His plush lips move softly against yours. The kiss is soft and much better than either of you could’ve imagined.

Pulling away from him, you catch your breath, huffing, “You dumb boy.”

His cheeks darken in colour, the blush leading to the expanse of his chest. He grips your hips, tugging you closer to his body. You feel his dick hardening in confined in his boxers, pressed to your lower stomach.

“Fuck,” Leon gasps softly. You tuck strands of hair behind his ear, your nose bumping together as you admire his pretty face.

“All that from a little kissing?” you breathed against his bruised lips, your fingers toying with the waistline of his boxers. “You want me to help you, baby boy?”

“Yes, please.” 

You frown, moving away from his hold. His face falls, his brows furrow in confusion as he pouts. “C’mon, Leon. You really think you’re going to get to cum that easily after ignoring me?”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please touch me. I– I’ll be your good boy,” he pleads, moving back closer to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection. 

“Okay, sweetheart. You’ll get to cum if you behave.”

He captures your lips in a quick kiss, moaning softly before pulling away. He takes your hand, leading you into his bedroom, and you observe the new surroundings. Even though you’ve been roommates for nearly a year, you never saw the inside of his room. Posters of bands you weren’t familiar with were on the walls of his room. 

“On the bed, baby,” you coo, and Leon shuffles on the navy blue sheets of his bed, leaning against the headboard. You crawl onto the soft sheets, straddling him as you seat yourself on his plush thighs. His warm palms shoot to rest on your waist, softly squeezing them.

He tugs you closer to him, pressing your chest flat against his. Leon gasps softly, his nipples rubbing against the coarse fabric of your tank top.

“S’much better than I imagined,” he sighs, guiding your hips so your clothed cunt drags along his prominent bulge. He groans, feeling your cunt dripping, soaking through your panties and shorts. 

You move back from him, halting your movements on his hardening cock as you’re sat on his thighs once more. Your hands grip his arms, and even though he’s stronger than you, he ceases his motion. It’s so fucking hot how this huge man submits to you. 

“You’ve thought about me in your lap?” you tease, palming his erection through his boxers. The head leaks precum, staining the delicate fabric. “Playing with your pretty cock?”

“Mhm,” he whines softly, bucking his hips to your warm touch. His head tilts back, knocking the wooden headboard quietly as he writhes at your touch. 

“Ohh, you poor thing. Cummin’ in your hand wishing it was mine,” you mock, pulling Leon’s boxers down to reveal his throbbing dick flushed pink. It aches for your touch, twitching and smearing his precum on the dark curls on his happy trail.

“Fuck, yes.” Leon whimpers when you wrap your digits around his cock, squeezing it, oozing more precum, coating your fingers as you stroke him slowly. His hips eagerly thrust to meet your movement.

“So, so pretty.” The blush on his cheeks somehow deepens at your words. His head is spinning, and not just from your touch. He roughly grips his silken sheets, bunching them up. You thought he was pretty?

“God, baby, you’re the prettiest.” 

Fuck, had he said that out loud? 

His back arches as he nears his orgasm, pleasure rushing through his body. His thighs tremble as he spills his cum, coating your hand. You don’t stop tugging on his weeping cock, living for the little cries he makes from being overstimulated.

“Don’t, m’ sensitive– shit,” Leon whines, and you finally take your hand off his spent dick, admiring his cum dribbling onto your fingers. Leon props himself up, chest heaving as he tries to collect himself.

“Did I say you could cum?” you tease. Leon’s eyes widen for a second before pleading for forgiveness.

“I- I didn’t mean to. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll be your good boy.” He sniffles softly, and you take pity on his cries. You’ll punish him another time.

“It’s okay, honey. Can you open wide f’me?” you say. Leon does as he’s told, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out. You wished you could take a picture. 

You place your index and middle finger on his tongue, pressing down. Leon wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking his cum off them. Moaning softly, he peers up at you through his lashes and gags when you push your fingers further down.

“You’re such a slut, Leon,” you say, pulling your fingers out his mouth, lips slicked with his spit. You flicked his nipples, causing him to moan loudly. His cock is beginning to harden once more.

“I’m your slut.”

“Think you can go one more round, baby?” you asked, hovering over his rock-hard cock, before sinking down. Your drenched pussy through your thin shorts stimulates his overly sensitive dick, and he groans softly, squeezing your waist.

“Wanna take care of you too, angel,” he murmurs into your ear as you grind yourself onto his erection. “Can I eat you, please?”

“Maybe next time, honey.”

“Fuck, okay. Can you kiss me?” You press your lips to his softly, and he whimpers sweetly into your mouth. Pulling away from him, you take your shorts and panties off, and they’re fucking drenched. Leon tugs your tank top off, and you giggle at his eagerness.

Your body, so soft and warm, is pressed against Leon’s. It’s almost enough to make him cum, and he’s not enough inside you yet. You slide your dripping cunt along his shaft, ensuring he’s fully hard. Leon fucking whines each time the tip of his cock nicks your entrance, begging to plunge in.

Every time the tip nudges your clit, your cunt clenches, and each flutter sends his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Please, angel. Fuck me. Use me– I don’t care. ‘M all yours.” You guide his cock to your entrance before finally sinking down slowly. The tip enters you with a soft moan. He’s so fucking thick. Once fully sheathed in you, you grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re all mine to use, right? F- Fuck, you’re stretching me so good, Leon.”

Your tight walls hug him so tightly, and when you bounce on his cock, each drag of his sensitive dick adds to the building pressure in his tummy. He filled you so good, reaching spots you didn’t think were possible as you used him like your toy.

Leon thrusts his hips to meet your pace, your ass slapping his thighs, making obscene sounds. He can’t get enough of you. From your tits bouncing as you rode his cock, or the expression you hold when he hits that special spot. 

It’s so much better than he has imagined.

He rubs your clit with his thumb, a broken whimper leaving him when your gummy walls clench around him tightly. The pressure in his tummy was rising, and you were no better as he played with your clit.

“‘M so close, sweetheart. Can I cum in you, please?” he pleads, his hips stuttering to meet each of your moves. His pink lips parted, eyes barely stayed open, and he looked utterly ruined.

“Yes, baby.” You trail kisses along his neck, sucking marks along the column of his throat. You’re pleased with yourself that you’re the reason he has those marks now. Each bruise you suck on his flesh adds another butterfly to his tummy. He’s all yours now.

“Cum with me, please.”

After a few more thrusts, the pressure within him bursts he cums inside you, filling you with his warm seeds. You climax along with him. Your cunt spasms around his sensitive cock, gushing its arousal, clinging to his happy trail.

You collapse on top of him, your head falling on his shoulder. Leon kisses the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. You try to get off to clean yourself and Leon up, but arms encircle your waist, preventing you from doing so.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t want you leaving.”

You comply, laying with him, your skin, sticky with sweat and cum, clings to his as you both enjoy each other’s embrace.

[wildandsmile]

commission idea🤌 vampire blue lock au characters like rin/sae/kuni/nagi etc and for kinks maybe like pinning/degrading ykwim i have a thing for neck biting hense why i love vampire au so much

Rian,Sae,Kuni,Nagi. Bllk boy when you tell them it’s ok to bite you

Total Wc. 1.1k

Warning. Oral F receiving, fingering, biting, choking, teasing, degrading breeding, riding, jealousy , sweet aftercare

An. This is my first time writing for vampires so...... yeah

Rin

He loses his mind, asking you a hundred times if you're sure about it, over and over again.

But once you reassure him, you're done for; he seizes every chance to take a bite out of you he can.

There's something about the way your blood tastes that sends his undead body boiling.

Oh, and he's a sucker for bloody kisses, the taste of your lips on his while your blood still lingers on the tip of his tongue, it turns him on like nothing else could.

And don’t even get him started on you guys are having sex he loves to feel you ride him while his fang are deep in your neck

You gasped out slowly, "Rin no more, pls I can’t take anyone ." As tears streamed down your eyes, you couldn't grasp how long you'd been at it or how much blood you'd lost. All you knew was that weren’t leaving this room anytime soon."Come on, princess, be good for me, just one more taste, please," he pleaded, not giving you any time to reply before sinking his teeth deep into your skin, watching as the blood rained down your neck."Fuck you taste so delicious and you feel even better," he groans as he rolls his hips, attempting to force yet another sweet orgasm from your already flowing cunt. He eventually lets go of your neck, but not before licking a long hot lap across your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss. It felt good, and the irony only added to your excitement as Rin began to thrust deeply into you. "Come on now princess, let me treat you real good for giving me such a great meal."

Sae

He's nothing like his brother; when you mention he could bite you, he's all in, almost immediately.

You even had to set a limit on how many times a day he could drink from you, fearing he'd drain you dry.

But oh, the teasing—he adores it, especially when he hears that little moan escape your lips. And how wet you get just form his fangs

He LOVES going down on you and nibbling on your thighs; the taste of your blood and slick combined makes his head spin.

He's a HUGE aftercare guy, coming back with bandages, snacks, the whole shebang.

"Come on, slut, you can do better than that," he says into your already swollen cunt, sliding his tongue across your sloppy folds. You tried to pull away, but he pushed you hard into the mattress, keeping you in place so he could plunge his fingers deep within you and curl them in just the right position. "Fuck look pet you’re getting our sheets dirty for me" he says as he begins to rub himself through his clothes. "Don't you think I deserve a reward, pet?" he asked as he itches the tips his of fingers against your sweet spot, forcing you to melt in his hands and moan loudly.That must have been his answer because soon enough he’s licking long hot strips across your thigh before sinking his fang deep into your skin licking up all the blood that trickles down making sure not to waste a drop.“ You’re so addictive pet, but I think it’s time to give you what you want, ” he said as he wiped the blood off his face and licked it off his fingers. “I’m going to have to cancel my schedule cause we’re not leaving this room until you covered in my bite marks.”

Kunigami (Wild Card)

• Right then and there, he takes you up on that offer, no matter where you are.

• Throughout the entire encounter, he's a big bully, teasing and touching you, yet not allowing you to reciprocate.

• He revels in seeing you in that vulnerable state when he drinks your blood, something about your clinging to him that ignites him.

• His possessiveness leads him to bite you in places where there's no way to hide the marks.

• Despite his bullying nature and slight transformation, he still retains the same caring demeanor, as evidenced by your favorite food waiting on the table the next day with a note that reads, "Make sure to rest well today, doll."

"Didn't I tell you not to push me away doll face?" he says, slapping your ass hard. "Only good girls get what they want," he says, and you whimper an apology before turning your face away so he doesn't see the fire burning your cheeks. But it doesn't last long as Kuni slides his hands up your skirt and rubs tight circles on your clothed clit, feeling how wonderful and puffy you can become with just a few touches."You really are a dirty slut doll face is that why you covered up your bite mark cause you didn't want the world to know what a dirty girl you really were huh” he says as he peels the bandages off your neck, revealing all the bite marks you worked so hard to hide. "I worked so hard to paint this pretty neck like my canvas, and you cover it up," he says as he wraps his hands around your throat, hooking your panties to the side and sliding to figure in rolling them until you buck into him. In that instant, he sinks his fangs deep into your collar bone. "Guess I'll just have to cover all of you in my bite marks so you can't hide them again."

Nagi

Is lazy he just waves it off when you tell him and goes back to his video game

• However, should he catch you talking to another guy, especially another vampire, his demeanor takes a different turn.

• He's typically gentle about things, so don't expect too much until he's angered.

• When he does get upset, he becomes more animalistic, perhaps even draining you completely.

• Yet, he always apologizes the next day, showering you with the princess treatment, whether it's playing his game together or enjoying a nap side by side.

"Who the hell was that love?" Nagi asks, his eyes shining a venomous glow. You don't say anything because you know it will only add fuel to the fire, and so that's how you end up locked in a mating press as Nagi buries his cock deep inside you kiss up to your cervix and his fangs even deeper into your skin drain you of what little you have. You couldn't tell if you were seeing stars because he pulled so many orgasms out of you or because of the blood loss."You’re mine, mine, mine," he says as he pushes your leg deeper into your chest and licking a long lap across your leg before biting you hard and watching the blood trail down your leg. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it, even if I have to bite and knock you up to do so."

[kurogxrix]

Under Wraps

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

IN WHICH Bruce and you deal with the aftermath of your kidnapping.

WC: 1.8k

warnings: ANGST, mentions of kidnapping, injuries, PTSD, soft!Bruce.

A/N: Ive l’ost all motivation in writing as of recently and had to FORCE myself to write this for a whole ass month😭 so it’s really nothing great.

The tense silence that lingered between you two was suffocating, albeit all windows in the room being wide open. You just couldn’t get yourself to speak, and Bruce just didn’t know what to say. He never does, but you love him either way. it’s funny to see the cocky billionaire flaunt all of his riches out to the world while he softens for you.

You sat upon the edge of your shared bed with your head in your hands, unable to make out whatever you husband was fumbling with behind you. The feeling of being in the opposite man’s grasp was so fresh to you, like a new scar that your brain harboured. Not only mentally, but the haunting mark across your wrists and neck were yet another temporary reminder of what had happened to you that night.

Oftentimes throughout the night you found yourself being ashamed for a reason or the other. Your husband’s been through worse, so have your sons, and yet your brain couldn’t help but replay the disturbing images of the moment you’d lost Bruce at the gala. You sighed in the comfort of your hands, forcing your eyelids shut impossibly further than they already were to try and shoo the nightmares away.��

Your clothes laid messily somewhere across the floor, a bloody and muddy mess that Bruce had quickly drawn off of you before ushering you into a warm shower. He’d then dressed you in a silky robe, and that was the end of it before you’d end up on the edge of the bed, alone with your thoughts despite your husband being in the same room as you.

Your ears fell deaf to the sound of constant rustling of cloth, so much that you failed to hear him crouch before you as he settled comfortably on his knees. 

Rough hands gently pried at your own, pulling them away from their protective stance around your face. The sudden lack of covering made you scrunch your nose in dismay, but a quick look from those hazel eyes before you had you relaxing. Bruce made a quick work out of the situation, silent as ever as his hands came to undo the knot around your robe that he himself had previously tied. 

You didn’t complain as his hands pushed at your robe, revealing the naked torso that Bruce had seen so many times before. The soft sigh that escaped your husband didn’t go deaf to your ears, and you closed your eyes once more as you awaited for the tingly feeling of his fingers. Seconds passed in sterile silence before you finally felt the scarred skin upon your own, except instead of balm covered fingers, you were met with his warm, bare ones. 

You opened your eyes to the sight of your dishevelled husband staring down at your bruised torso, the balms and bandages that were once in his left hand now abandoned beside you on the bed. His right hand held onto your side like an anchor, wide thumb pressing against your stomach. Bruce kneeling between your open legs was a sight that you’d never get tired of, but this time you could only pray for it to end. 

Hazel iris traced the dark spots littering your torso with a shame that was beyond their ability. Tiny hairs across his hairline stuck to his forehead due to cold sweat, and you brought a hand down to smooth them behind, little to no care for the tacky fluid rubbing onto your hand. Slowly by slowly, you began caressing your way down his face, smoothing out the wrinkles accumulating on his face before stopping on the edge of his jaw. 

The feeling of your fingers, alive and warm upon his freshly shaven jaw caused his fingers to involuntary clench on your side. The painful hiss that escaped your mouth was enough to snap your husband out of his stance, fingers almost immediately unclenching from their grip. 

Masochistic as it was, you were somewhat glad for the pain. It reminded you that you were alive and well, there in the mansion with your husband. It also managed to get those brown eyes that you loved so much to snap upwards towards you. They held so many feelings in there that you believed you could not be able to tend to them all in one night.

“I’m sorry,” it left his lips faster than your brain could comprehend, and you were left dumbfounded yourself at those two little words. Meaningless in most relationships, those words were nothing that you’d ever hear coming on of the one and only Bruce Wayne’s lips. He was cocky, always flaunting his riches to those who seeked. 

“It’s okay, it only hurt for a second.” you lied, because the throbbing pain still coursing through your right side threatened to sell you out. You could tell that Bruce wasn’t buying it, so much for being Gotham’s greatest detective. Nevertheless, your hand resumed its delicate caressing upon his cheek, a ruse to take his mind away from the little slip up. 

You could practically see the gears turning inside his head, trying to decipher why in hell you would be lying to him about this out of everything. Yet again he’d worried far too much over you in one night, you wouldn’t let his mind collapse over something so minor. 

Bruce didn’t wait for your approval before shifting on his knees, hands grabbing at the balms that looked humorously tiny compared to his large palm. The cold paste spreads smoothly upon the tip of his fingers, and soon they’re on your skin. The sensation made you flinch, but the reassuring hand that laid on your knee made you calm down. You thought it was crazy how such a simple thing could make you relax so easily, yet again marriage and love were another crazy thing of their own.

Your fingers clenched on their own as you felt

your throat tightening. No. Hell no, you wouldn’t let Bruce see you cry after the hectic course of fucking hell of days that you’d put him through. That selfless side of you that was present most of the time was yelling at you to stay strong, and yet the sight of your burly, rough and yet caring husband doting after you following your accident, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

You fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging little crescent moon into the skin of your palm as

you gritted your teeth together to hold in a loud sob threatening to escape past your lips involuntarily. From his spot on the floor, Bruce froze at the sight of the soft, rhythmic movements that swayed at your chest. From the corner of his eyes nevertheless, and in the dimness of the enclosed room, his senses never failed him.

Tilting his face up to meet your own, his fingers unwillingly clenched around the poor tin can of balm upon his hands. The tears that you were trying so hard to keep in pooled at your waterline, entangling in your bottom lashes before escaping on their own accord. He watched as your chest shook, exasperation taking over your body before you could even cry to him. Yet you weren’t doing it, and for some reason Bruce knew that he had some part to play in it. 

He remained silent as his hand came to clutch onto your own. Then, the sobs shook you and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You jumped from your seat on the edge of the bed and straight into his awaiting embrace, arms thrown tightly around the broad neck. Bruce felt his heart squeezing at the sound of your distraught cries, like the Joker himself had his heart placed and chained on some sort of death carousel. 

Nothing was more painful to Bruce than family. The bad and the good hurt. Like when happiness would grasp at his heart so hard that it’d physically hurt. Only family could achieve that for him, yet life wasn’t always favourable, and the bat knew that better than anyone else. He could make a list of things, one shittier and more tragic than the other, that’s happened to Bruce ever since he was but a little boy, and yet, his heart never got more of in a twist than at the sight of a member of his family hurting. 

Your breath staggered, and your husband felt the warm exhale of you trying to stabilise yourself upon his neck. A large, ringless, and warm palm found its way to the small of your back like a collarless dog chasing home. Suddenly, another bare hand fell upon your back as Bruce embraced you against his chest fully. 

The room was void of any noise save for the agonising sounds of your pained sobs. Bruce didn’t need to ask anything, he didn’t need to inquire to know that you were hurt. All the more scared and traumatised after your encounter with the Joker. His large palm rubbed comforting circles along your back as you laid motionless in his warm embrace. 

“You’re home now,” he muttered, as though it would help appease all of the new scars and fears that you'd acquired in the span of a few days. 

“I’m glad.” you breathed out from your position in the crook of his neck, feeling like you’d break down again if you spoke too much. The both of you occupied your positions on the floor for far longer than normal, only splitting apart to rejoin the comfort of the soft mattress after you’d whined in pain following a slight movement to adjust yourself on his lap. 

Bruce made a quick and effortless job of carrying you back to bed, pausing in his movements when you’d told him you’d feel better to sleep with the side lamp on tonight. The frown on his face deepened at your comment, yet he didn’t allow you to see it as he kept his back to you despite complying. Settling in bed was even harder for you than you expected, unable to wrap your arms around the muscular torso of your husband and rest your head upon his chest as your injury unabled you to. 

Sleep didn’t come easy either, plagued with nightmares that previously didn’t exist in the far back of your mind. Bruce was here with you through it all, his sleeping habits aiding him to wake by the moment you’d stir awake. That night, Batman slept but Bruce didn’t, but the feeling of your pulse regaining its normal beat as you laid with your back against his chest erased Bruce’s ability to care. Safe and sound under the wraps.

-

anyways that was that….

[hellsburners]

in vino veritas

summary: the emperors have given the general a gift. pairing: general marcus acacius x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: smut, rough dom, top marcus, bottom male reader, sex pollen pic a/n: im seeing the movie tomorrow!

masterlist

A chill rolled down the general’s spine as he entered the throne room. Two golden chairs sat atop a dais, shining under the sunlight. Seated were the emperor’s with their bone white togas and their red hair. Acacius has seen great monsters in his conquests, but none as bloodthirsty and mad as these two. 

He was still bloodied from battle, dirt and soot covered his body, his chestplate dented and scratched. He dropped his sword on the marble floor, the clang of metal echoing the palace walls. 

“You have brought great honor to Rome, General,” the Emperor Geta said. His golden eyes gleaming with pride and greed under the sunlight. He gestures at the servants below the dais, where they fetch the general’s sword and pour him a glass of wine. The Emperor takes a sip of wine, the corners of his mouth smirking roguishly. 

“A feast must be made in your honor,” the younger emperor shouted in joy. “With the finest meals and a celebration in the colosseum!” 

“None is required, my emperors,” the general spoke. “I only wish for someone to tend to my wounds and a soft bed to lay in tonight.” 

He took a sip of his wine, the bitterness helped distract the ache in his body. He saw Caracalla whispering something to his brother, snickering and chuckling under his breath. Geta’s eyes widened, a smile forming from his lips. 

“Very well,” Geta clapped. 

The sound of his clap echoed in the room, a ringing sound forming in the general’s ears. He staggered back, his vision blurring—almost black. The wine, he thought. He fell hard on the floor, his body numb. He saw the two emperors walk down the dais, towering over him like roman statues of the gods. They both laughed maniacally

“In vit veritas, General.” In wine, there is truth. 

Marcus Acacius woke up from the sound of a fallen metal bowl. It was night time, the torches in the room were lit. He wasn’t in the throne room anymore, yet the fineries in the architecture and the furniture in the room signaled that he was still in the palace. 

“Forgive me, general,” you said. Picking up the fallen bowl and the cloth bandages scattered on the floor. You had tended to the general’s wounds. There weren’t many but it was imperative they be cleaned to reduce any infection. “How are you feeling?”

You saw the general rise from his bed, his wide frame casting shadows on the bed. He wore nothing but the bandages you wrapped around his chest and the silk blanket that covered his privates. He groaned, his voice hoarse and deep. “Fine I suppose, a bit sore.”

“That is to be expected. Your injuries, though minor, will take a few days to heal.” you said. You couldn’t help but stare at him, even as you cleaned his wounds. His thick wavy hair that you brushed until the dried blood came off. His tanned skin and his broken nose. You admired every feature almost as if you were looking at a god on earth. 

“They laced my drink with something, what was it?” Marcus spoke. His hands brushed over his thick thighs, bending down while his hair fell on his face. “I feel feverish and weak.”

“A flower from one of Rome’s colonies, once dried it turns into a fine powder that can be mixed into wine. It is undetectable from smell or taste,” You said. Fear rose to your throat. In front of you was the most dangerous man in Rome. Despite his weakness you knew, surely, he can kill you with ease. “In small doses it could be a sort of aphrodisiac the emperors have been using in their—parties. Large amounts can be quite lethal.”

The general tried to stand but to no avail. You rushed quickly to his aid. It was true, you tried to cradle his muscular arms and they were hot to the touch. He groaned, grabbing onto your arm tightly. The silk shifted under his legs, your eyes widened to see the silk was bulging. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“General,” you said in shock. 

“Tell me, boy,” his eyes were sharp like knives and dark like an abyss. “Is this part of their games?”

“This is a part of its effects, that is the truth,” you said, your face was close to his, his hand still gripping onto your arm. His breath was hot against your lips. But trust me, general, I had no part in this.”

“What will make it go away then?” he said, the silk pulled down the soft v of his pelvis, you could see the hint of hair in the middle. 

“Time is the only cure. It will take until sunrise for the effects to subside,” you said. He cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples. You pushed his hair back, your fingers cold against his skin. You rested your knee on the bed, your other hand caressing his broad shoulders. “But if there is anything I can do to help, my general.”

His hands wrapped around your neck, tight. His eyes stared at you with his brows furrowed. He dragged you down to the bed. He was now on top of you, he was wide and strong, his breath labored. His hands pinned you down, his nails digging into your skin. He dove down to your neck kissing you. Nibbling and licking down your skin. You tasted of salt and flowers, oddly sweet. 

“You will serve me, boy,” he said. “Until sunrise.”

You nodded. He ripped off your toga, tossing it aside, lost in the sea of silk. He continued to take his time on your body, kissing and sucking leaving marks all over. You moaned from his wet lips and his warm tongue, which trailed down your chest to your perked nipples. You could feel his rough facial hair scrape your skin, it stung but it sent more shivers through your body. 

“Then let me serve you,” You said, slowly changing places so that he was sitting on the bed, and you straddling his muscular thighs. You placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted of dried blood. He pulled you closer, kissing you roughly while you fought to take in the air. His tongue mixed with yours changing each other's taste. When you pulled back to breathe you saw that his pupils were dilated. 

You continued to trail kisses on his ear, slowly tracing the tip of your tongue down his neck and to his chest. You did the same with his nipples, licking and teasing which made him moan. It was godly, the way he sounded. Such brute strength in the battlefield long gone under your touch. Your hand went down to the growing ache in his center. His cock was aching hard and thick, the tip leaking. When you touched the bead of cum he shivered and cursed. You went down to place soft kisses around the shaft, taking in his soldier’s scent. You placed the pad of your tongue under the shaft and licked to taste the tip, engulfing the head as you went down—deep. 

“Fuck,” he said, his chest rising and falling. You sucked down and hollowed your cheeks as you came up, releasing the head with a loud pop. He placed a hand on your head and pushed you back down. You bobbed on his cock feverishly as he moaned more and more. He was shaking a bit, his hands pulling on your hair as he fucked into your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you took his thickness deeper into your throat. You could feel him getting close which is why he released his hold on you, you clutched your throat and coughed up. His thick cock was glistening wet with your spit, the tip a deep red. 

“Have you ever been with a soldier?” he said, panting. You shook your head, wiping your tears and your lips on the silk. “Then come here, boy. Let me show you how a soldier of Rome takes his price.” 

You held onto his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock into your hole, slowly pulling on your waist until he was fully inside. You dipped your head on the corner of his neck, slowly moving your hips in a rocking motion. You moaned in his ears like a wanton mess. His arms hugged your waist and pushed you deeper down his cock. He pulled on your hair to continue on leaving marks on your neck and chest. 

His hands wrapped around your neck as he kissed you more, his other hand found to stroke your hardness, your tip leaking a mess down his hand that made his strokes more slick. You were in ecstasy, like the drug had worked itself into your body as well. You went off his lap and sunk down on the bed with your face down on the silk, presenting your behind for him to use. He was like a lion eager for his prey. He took your hair and rammed his cock into you again. Fucking into you with so much force you could feel whatever expensive wood that was used on the bed creak. He panted like a man tired from a day’s work. His other hand pressing down your back so your ass arched more. 

“I am close,” he moaned. 

“Please, general, fill me,” you said. He pushed your face deeper down the bed, it felt as if he was crushing your skull. His thrusts became erratic and labored. The rhythm faltered from his sheer strength. He released with a strong grunt. His seed filled into your hole which made you feel full and warm. He collapsed on your back like a heavy bear. You tried to capture your breath. Slowly pushing him off.  You stood up to take back your toga, the sun peering from the horizon. You sat on the window with a watering can in your hands. You slowly poured water on the bright blue flower on your windowsill, a bag of gold coins next to it. You chuckled, the same chuckle Geta and Caracalla would do. “In vito veritas,” you smiled. Admiring the big man snoring on your bed.

hey y'all I'm back! please like and reblog with your thoughts I'd love to hear them! And if you have any more sweet sweet prompts about Marcus or any of Pedro's characters do send them on my inbox!

[stubz]

"Hey guys! 4 days and the rescue team will be here!...any luck with setting up that emergency shelter?" Quip looked towards the others.

They all groan and curse in response. The small group surrounded by pieces and parts and an instruction sheet.

"It's not hard...it's not! We have everything we need; food, water, first aid, enough to last us weeks! ...So why does our downfall have to because of a faulty packaging?!!" screams Glip throwing down the piece she was holding.

"We're not going to die! We'll just have to sleep in the shuttle tonight and bundle up close tonight..." sighs Quip.

The shuttle had crashed thanks to a malfunction on the navigation system which lead to the shuttle getting blindsided by a meteor shower.

No one was killed and the most injured would surely live and the planet they crashed on was a favorable one. They had plenty of emergency food and water but what they didn't have was a proper shelter. The planet they landed on was freezing cold in the night, reaching far below the negatives.

If only the emergency shelter included the much needed tools necessary to build it...

The night was cold and unforgiving. The shuttle creaked and groaned from the violent winds and accumulating snow on it's roof. The beings inside shivered and prayed that when they fell asleep they would wake up in the morning.

When morning came they had to dig themselves out of the shuttle. Over 3 feet of snow from last night. The roof sank in the center in a way that made everyone nervous.

"...just 3 days. We just have to make it through 3 more days and we'll be rescued." muttered Quip.

"If we don't get suffocated in our sleep that is...or freeze." grumbles Glip.

"Would it kill you to be positive?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Unlike you I don't have a fur coat to keep me warm in the night and stayed up all night worried that I wouldn't wake up if went to sleep!"

"Stop yelling! You're making the others worry!"

"You-!"

"The human is awake! She woke up!" shouted a purple looking avian.

During the crash the only one to really get injured was the human on board, having hit their head on impact and been unconscious for the past 30 hours.

"...how is she?!" calls Glip

"She's lost it! She's digging through the snow like a lunatic!"

Glip and Quip share a look before heading to the other side of the shuttle where the avian was and looked.

There several yards away was the human who was digging through the snow with her bare hands.

"What's she doing?" asks Quip.

"No idea! She was already awake when I went to check on her looking for something in the shuttle and then made break for it once she saw the door was open...think she's brain damaged or something." they muttered.

"...someone should check on her." Glip says before shoving Quip forward.

..

After some arguing and reminders that out of the three of them he was the most people friendly Quip trudged out where the human was to check on her.

She had dug a hole nearly 4 feet deep and showed no signs of stopping. The look in her eyes and bloody bandages on her head made Quip feel she was too far gone to the Great Stars but he had to the right thing.

"...heeyyyy...Kim...what uh, watcha doing there?" he asked a safe 5 feet away.

"Looking for tools...need tools for the shelter." she muttered.

"Tools? ...Kim the shelter didn't come with tools; they weren't lost in he crash." he tried to gently explain.

"Not those, different tools. Good tools that every planet has."

"And what...tools, are those?"

"Rocks and sticks!"

"...great! Good luck on that!" he walked as fast he could to the others, practicing how to gently break the news that the human was broken.

...

Hours passed and the human Kim had founded 3 rocks of different sizes, some large sticks, and taken whatever pieces of the shuttle that had broken off and put them in a pile in front of the Emergency Instantaneous Shelter manual.

The others looked on with pity with some looking disturbed at how proud she was for her findings.

No one stopped her when she started to grab the pieces of the E.I.S. and smash them together with her rocks and hunks of broken metal. Nor when they heard the scraping and screeching of the metal shards she twisted against them. Without tools it was worthless...plus the determined manic look in her eyes scared everyone too much.

When night was starting to fall everyone had taken refuge in the shelter again. Everyone but the human who was too focused and entertained by the smashing of rocks and scratching of metal.

"Kim! Come inside! You'll freeze out here!" ordered Quip.

"Human! You don't have fur or anything to keep you warm during the night!" Glip shouted.

The human looked at them and smiled, waving and shouting that she was almost finished.

"...she's a little out of it but she's well enough to come inside when she should." Glip pushed her friend through the shuttle door and together they joined the sleep pile.

....

When Glip surfaced from the snow that landed on her face she screamed for everyone to leave. The roof had finally gave and was seconds away from dropping a mountain of snow onto them all.

She grabbed Quip and the purple avian, Kal, and dragged their half-asleep panicked bodies out of the shuttle. When out she watched with them and the others the shuttle concaving from the snow.

The wind and snow bit and scratched their faces and exposed flesh. The shrieks and howls from the dying shuttle, their only hope of surviving the nights, seemed almost organic. The fear and realization of their fate made them shiver more than the cold did.

"DONE! ITS FINALLY FINISHED! LOOK! LOOK AT WHAT I BUILT!!!" The human popped up from the other side of the destroyed shuttle, eyes wide and glowing from the flare she held for light.

When no one came forward fast enough for her liking she scrambled over and grabbed Kal and dragged them towards the thing she built.

"ITS NOT AS NICE AS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN WITH REAL TOOLS BUT I LIKE IT! YOU CAN HAVE SECOND DIBS OF WHAT SPOT YOU WANT!" she shouted over the howling wind.

The two disappeared from view for a minute before Kal popped his head out screaming.

She had built the Emergency Instantaneous Shelter. With nothing but the rocks and pieces of metal she found. It wasn't perfect; a wall or two was dented, the roof was scratched and somewhat held up by two strong sticks she dug up, but it was warm, safe, and dry.

"...how in the f*ck did you build this?" Quip shivered as he climbed inside.

"I just followed the instructions, its pretty simple really." the human smiled.

"...but you didn't have any of the tools!" Glip shrieked.

"Well after reading the instructions I realized that a good rock would perfectly substitute like half of the tools I didn't have. And the metals shards I found worked great as screwdrivers!"

Glip opened her mouth to argue, to scream that a rock was nothing like the sophisticated tools that great engineering minds had invented...until she realized the human was right. The tools simply added the instant to instantaneous shelter. With them you build this grand 20 person shelter in 2 minutes. Without them it would take hours of hard labor.

"...how did you know that a rock would be the perfect substitute?"

"...I don't know. Its basically instinct to most of us. The perfect tool for a simple job is a big heavy object... rock."

"...rock." Glip repeated.

"Rock." the human confirmed.

*weeks later*

"Oh my god it is instinct!" Glip screams as she watches a group of human younglings use rocks to crack open other rocks to simply see the shiny patterns on the inside at the indoor park she walks through. With others using sticks to dig up more rocks to smash.

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[edenesth]

The Captain's Favourite

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

Struggling to steady your laboured breath, you pressed a trembling hand against the stab wound beneath your chest. Blinking rapidly, you attempted to regain clarity in your vision. From what you could discern, it seemed like the injury might not involve a vital organ, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

However, the stark reality hit hard – you were the sole medical professional on board.

You were always the one attending to the health of your fellow crewmates and never the one in need of medical attention. That all changed abruptly during the unexpected ambush launched by a rival pirate crew.

They strategically targeted a crucial member of the crew before escalating the assault further. The rationale was clear – if the ship's only medical personnel was incapacitated, who would attend to the wounded? Save for the captain, you were the next most important person on the vessel.

But the enemy was also aware you were so much more than just a doctor, "There she is, Captain Hongjoong's favourite. Get her," were the chilling words that you heard before feeling the sharp pain of a dagger piercing your abdomen.

The duration of the battle became a haze, with moments of consciousness slipping in and out as you observed, through blurred vision, your crewmates fighting back fiercely to defend your ship and all the treasures within.

The fight finally ended when your captain impaled the rival leader directly in the heart. Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, let out a weary exhale as he dropped his sword, "Take him and go, the rest of you. If you don't wish to join him in the afterlife." He commanded.

The rival pirates hastily moved to remove their leader's lifeless form from your ship without having to be told twice. It took no time for Captain Hongjoong to scan the surroundings anxiously, his heart racing as he searched for you.

"Wh-where is she—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed what seemed to be your boots tucked away in a corner, cleverly concealed behind barrels. The enemy had evidently gone to great lengths to ensure you wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

Without wasting a moment, he sprinted towards you, pushing all the obstacles out of his way with newfound strength fueled by desperation. His eyes widened, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of the red staining your shirt and your pale complexion.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare leave me!" Hongjoong screamed, gently pulling you into his arms, "Hey, look at me. I'm your captain, and I order you not to close your eyes."

However, no amount of commanding could mend your injuries, and he was acutely aware of that fact. Time blurred as he urgently directed his crew to transport you to the nearest town without delay. Losing you was not an option he was willing to entertain.

Drawing on his experience from observing you tend to injured crewmates countless times, the captain applied pressure and bandaged your wound to minimise the bleeding until you could receive proper medical treatment.

Upon arriving at the closest town, you were swiftly taken to a medical facility, where Hongjoong fought to catch his breath as they gently took you from his arms, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her," He gave the medical staff a firm glare, "You better."

The nurse nodded nervously, motioning for him to wait by the available bench. Everyone in the facility recognised him; it was the very place he had taken you away from many years ago. As a woman, you had been denied the chance to prove yourself despite being an apprentice there.

That changed the day Hongjoong arrived, bloodied and in need of help.

With all the doctors unavailable, you, the only trainee present, seized the opportunity to showcase your skills by treating the pirate captain.

While he rested after you tended to his injury, Hongjoong overheard a conversation between you and your superior. Rather than receiving praise for your competent work, you were berated for not adhering to the rules and taking matters into your own hands.

Enraged by what he heard, he proposed taking you in as the crew doctor. Despite being aware of his pirate status, you agreed because no one had recognised and acknowledged your skills the way he did.

As time passed, you'd grown to harbour feelings for one another. Though neither of you openly admitted to them, the entire crew was well aware of the captain's undeniable affection for you. They often wondered when Hongjoong would muster the courage to confess.

You were used to him always watching out for you; he would go to great lengths, even pretending to be unwell just to stay near you. He'd reprimand other crewmates for inconveniencing you with their minor issues; a total hypocrite himself. It was hard for you to not realise the fact that he was clearly favouring you, especially when everyone aboard has been calling you 'the captain's favourite' since day one.

Except he would always be in denial whenever teased about it, despite his actions proving completely otherwise.

Now, waiting anxiously, he regretted not revealing his feelings sooner. The thought of you potentially dying without knowing his love haunted him. Reflecting on missed opportunities, he questioned why he hadn't uttered those three words earlier. What was holding him back? What was he so afraid of?

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally allowed to see you. Entering the room where you rested, he held his breath until relief flooded over him at the sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your palm, "Oh, thank god, you're okay."

Tears streamed down his face silently, oblivious to the fact that you'd awakened to his sobs. You smiled weakly, moving your fingers to wipe his wet cheeks, "Who would've thought? The mighty Captain Hongjoong is crying for me."

His head shot up immediately, a tearful chuckle escaping him and he nodded, "That's right. Do you see the power you have over me?" Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never, "I love you so much, you know that? You mean the world to me."

You nodded, "I love you too, captain. Thought you'd never admit it."

Leaning in, he kissed your lips softly, "I'll tell you I love you every day now if I have to. And I refuse to let anything like this happen again. You're moving to my quarters at once."

If you thought he was joking, you were mistaken. Things were about to change drastically. Consider yourself promoted from crew doctor to the captain's most valuable treasure, as if you weren't already.

Now that we have Prince San, General Seonghwa, and Captain Hongjoong, I'm still contemplating what other roles to assign to the rest of the members.

Anyway, really hope you're all enjoying these imagines. Thanks for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[hyuuukais]

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

-

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

-

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

-

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

[ninibeingdelulu]

You got hurt on a mission ft. levi ackerman

a/n: today is my birthday youpi ! officially 8teen!

How your husband, Levi, react when you’re injured.

At first, Levi's expression would be carefully neutral, that trademark stoic mask firmly in place.

But those steel-grey eyes would instantly zero in on your injuries with laserlike intensity, cataloging every wound and judging their severity.

He'd immediately bark out a curt order for you to sit and not move while he gathered medical supplies.

That brusque tone would betray no hints of the internal turmoil and fear swirling inside seeing you bloodied and hurt.

As Levi tended to cleaning and dressing your wounds, his usual crass remarks and gruff manner would be completely abandoned.

Instead, his movements would be uncharacteristically gentle, deft fingers working with a delicate meticulousness you'd never seen before.

Not a single word would pass his lips the entire time.

Just a hyper-focused furrow of his brows and the occasional flicker of his jaw clenching hard enough you'd worry for his teeth.

The only sounds would be your soft inhales of breath whenever the antiseptic solution stung a bit.

Once the last bandage was taped down, Levi would sit back on his heels for a long moment, head bowed.

You'd be just about to open your mouth and try to reassure him when he'd suddenly surge forward without warning.

His powerful arms would engulf you in a grip just shy of painfully constricting.

Levi would haul you flush against his body, face buried in the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he pulled in great shuddering breaths.

You'd feel the slightest tremor race through him - the only hint at the profound fear he'd been grappling with at nearly losing you.

His voice, when it finally emerged, would be low and gritty with restrained emotion.

"Don't you ever...put me through that hell again, brat. You hear me?"

The reprimand would lack any real bite, more of a broken rasp muffled against your skin.

Then Levi would simply stay there, arms an unbreakable vise around you, shielding and anchoring you in the safety of his ironclad strength.

He'd rock you both in a subconscious soothing cadence, one hand cupping the back of your head protectively.

For once, the fearsome soldier would entirely let his guard down - allowing himself to temporarily succumb to vulnerability in your presence.

No arduous frontiers to map or battlelines to fortify in these precious moments after nearly losing you.

Only when you finally began drifting in a lulled, half-conscious state would Levi gather you up with reverent care.

He'd tuck you securely into your shared quarters, standing inscrutable vigil over your resting form like an immovable sentinel until the last vestiges of his internal tempest settled.

And tucked amid that steely regard would be one tiny glimmer of raw adoration and tenderness he only ever allowed you to witness.

A fleeting acknowledgment of the cherished nature of your presence having returned safely into his world once more - source of his singular, most profound devotion.

[juanarc-thethird]

Learn to lock the door!

Blake: *Enters Jaune's room* Hey Jaune, have you seen my... book?

Jaune is naked, with his cock deep inside a girl on all fours who looks just like Blake. But seconds later she transforms back into Emerald.

Jaune: We can explain.

Blake: *Horny* Fuck that, I'm in.

Moments later

Ruby: Hey Jaune have you seen... Blake?

Blake is on top of Jaune, balls deep, while Emerald is putting on her clothes so she can leave.

Jaune: Is not what it looks like!

Ruby: I don't care what it looks like, I'm in!

Moments later

Weiss: Hey Jaune, did you...

Ruby is fucked from behind by Jaune while he holds her by the neck with a bit of pressure. While Blake is fully dressed putting on her shoes.

Jaune: *red* Blake is a bad influence!!

Weiss: I'm next.

Moments later

Yang: Jaune, did you eat my…!

Jaune has Weiss in a Mating Press and hitting her little pussy hard like a piñata with his big cock. Ruby, on the other side, is dressed, recording what is happening.

Jaune: Your sister dared me to do it!!!

Yang: And I have another one for you~

Moments later

Pyrrha: Jaune, it's time for our tra- Eh?!!

Yang is on all fours while Jaune fucks her from behind while he pulls her hair. In the corner of the bed, Weiss is putting on makeup again to look presentable.

Jaune: She is came to me first!

Yang: *Giggles* Yes I did~

Pyrrha: Your form is wrong, let me help you.

Moments later

Nora: Jaune, have you seen- HOLY MOLLY!!!

Pyrrha has Jaune lying on his back and pressed against the bed without him being able to move, while she bounces on his cock like an animal in heat. On the other side Yang is sitting on a couch, watching what's happening while she touches herself.

Jaune: Help! My pelvis can't take it anymore!

Nora: Oh I give you a hand~

Moments later

Neon: What's up with the noise? Are you guys having a par-TYYYYY!!!!! *Shock*

Nora has Jaune against the wall while she fucks him using her big ass. Jaune can only hold onto her hips. Pyrrha, on the other side, is brushing her hair.

Jaune: This is not a party!!

Neon: *Takes a pic on her phone* It is now~

Moments later

Reese: Neon, are you here? What do you- HOLY SHIT!!

Jaune is sitting on the bed with his back leaning against the wall while Neon moves her hips slowly and sensually while they fuck. Nora is still naked talking to someone on her phone.

Jaune: Reese, what are you doing here?!!

Reese: *Smug* Duh, I came for the party~

Moments later

Arslan: *Ready to fight* Reese, I'm here! Why do you need... *Wide eye* Backup?

Reese is on her tiptoes leaning against the wall while Jaune fucks her intensely. Neon meanwhile is taking selfies with them two in the back.

Jaune: Wait, this is 100% completely consensual!

Arslan: In that case, I also consent.

Moments later

Velvet: Jaune? Nora told me to come see y-y-y-WHY?!! *Angry*

Arslan is hanging onto Jaune with her arms around his neck and her legs hanging in Jaune's arms, supporting her ass while he fucks her. Reese, meanwhile, is on a video call with someone showing how Arslan is getting fucked.

Jaune: Velvet?! Why are you angry?!

Velvet: I gave ya all the bloody signs 'n ya fucked her?! That Dick is mine!

Moments later

Coco: Hey Jaune, is Velvet here? She said she was going- HOLY FUCK!!!

Velvet is being bred with her legs hooked around Jaune, who is on top of her fucking her like there is no tomorrow with cum coming out of her. Arslan meanwhile is putting her bandages on her arms and hands.

Jaune: It was her idea! I swear!

Coco: Whatever her idea is, I want it too~

Moments later

May: Jaune? Nora told me to come her of- *GASP!!!* I-I-I!

Coco looks a mess, her makeup ruined, her hair messy, all thanks to Jaune. He is fucking her with her on top of him, close to his body, while his cock is hitting her insides in all the right places, giving her great pleasure. Taking this opportunity, Velvet uses her camera to take photos of all of Coco's lewd expressions.

Jaune: Wait! Please don't scream!

May: *Red* I WON'T LOSE!!

Moments later

Penny: *Smiling* Hello friend Jaune! I came here to get fuck!

May is bouncing on Jaune's lap while he sucks on the nipples of her huge tits. Coco, meanwhile, is taking some selfies, liking the new look.

Jaune: You what?!!

Penny: *She removes her clothes* I'm sex ready!!!

Moments later

Ciel: Penny, I know you are here! General Ironwood is calling- WHAT THE FUCK?!!

Penny is on all fours with her hand pressed against the bed while Jaune puts all his weight to fuck her from behind. Meanwhile, May is sleeping next to them in the bed covered with a sheet.

Jaune: Please don't tell Ironwood!

Ciel: If you convince me, maybe I won't do it~ *She licks her lips*

Moments later

Glynda: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!

Ciel is curled up with a pillow while lying on her side with her ass on the edge of the bed where Jaune is fucking her hard. Penny is currently on a video call with Ruby talking about her recent experience.

Jaune: *Panic* Prof. Goodwitch! It's not what it looks like?!

Jaune saying her name made the two girls panic as well.

Glynda: You girls get dressed and go to your rooms immediately!

The two girls do what they are told and run out of the room.

Glynda: And your Mr. Arc…

Jaune: *Worry* YES!!

*Click* Suddenly the sound of the door being locked is heard.

Jaune: Prof. Goodwitch?

Glynda: Now you're all mine~💕

Moments later

[spongebobiscool]

Summary After receiving an injury from a villan named Boom while working on the job, you were ordered to bed rest for the next weeks. You assumed you’d be spending those weeks alone, but from the knock on your door and the person behind it, you couldn’t be anymore wrong.

Pairings Katsuki Bakugou x reader

WC/ 942

A knock came to your apartment door and you walked up to answer it. To your surprise, it was the Katsuki Bakugou behind it. He had a muscled arm against the doorway, straining all of his muscles. You felt your breath hitch at the sight.

“Well, if it isn’t the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” You said sarcastically. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He rolled his eyes, painting his usual scowl across his face. “Listen extra-“ oh, here we go, “I just wanted to apologize for today.” He began, his face becoming serious.

Before answering the door, you were busy honing your wounds due to today's villian. He called himself Boom. Boom wanted to be just like Bakugou, a copycat in a way. And he was a tough one, having the power to send explosives kind of like Bakugou’s quirk but a little bit of a cheap knock off. That didn’t mean it was any less painful when he directed explosions your way and sent you flying to the nearest building.

And it really didn’t help when Bakugou took charge of the operation and because of it, the next harsh explosion was sent your way. A quick trip to the hospital later and you were told that you had a sprained ankle, a couple broken ribs and that you’d need to stay off the job for the next few weeks. You didn’t blame him for what happened, you were heros. It happens.

You could see the guilt behind his vermillion colored eyes. It was hard to pick you but you could see it. You shook your head at him, “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Things happen,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“But I’m a hero, and I put you in danger. I’m sorry,” he bowed his head to you and you nearly smiled. Who knew Katsuki Bakugou could have so much compassion for others?

With as much as you could, you moved to the side to show him the door. “Would you like to come in?” You asked. He seemed unsure but continued to walk through the door. With your sprained ankle, it was hard to take a step back. Especially because you limped toward the door and left you crutches against the couch.

You couldn’t stop yourself from realizing just how tall and big Katsuki Bakugou was. He wore a black tank top and sweatpants but converted himself off with a jacket. “I have tea if you want some,” you choked out. He nodded and watched you closely.

To get away from his hard stare, you turned on a heel and started walking. “I’ll make you some,” you said, limping out of his way but it took one chord to nearly send you to the floor. Thankfully, strong arms and a hard body grabbed onto your waist to keep you upright.

“I’ll make the tea,” he grumbled. “Now sit ya’ ass down,”

You rolled your eyes and did as he said while he went into the kitchen to make the tea. It didn’t take him long to figure out which one you liked the most. You only had 2 boxes of both you really liked. While the kettle was running, Bakugou went to sit by your side. “What’s all this?” He asked.

You looked down at the bandages and felt your cheeks heat up. “Nothing. I was just cleaning myself up-“

“Let me do it,” the shock hit you like a slap in the face. He wanted to do what? You watched him grab the alcohol and gauze, realizing that he was indeed serious. The wound was a slightly deep cut that hadn’t healed yet. “Where are you hurt?” He asked.

Hesitantly, you turned your back to him. The wound was on a lower region on your shoulder blade and it would require you to nearly remove your top. You pushed your hair out of his way, revealing your naked back to him and the harsh bloody slash that laid in your back.

You winced as he began working on your shoulder, cleaning up as much blood as he could. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

Wow, you never thought he would felt this guilty for a mistake. Things happen for us heros. It’s never one person's fault and it definitely wasn’t his. You shook your head again. “You don’t need to blame yourself.” You said. “It’s not your fault so please.”

He didn’t say anything after that and continued to clean your wound until he finally bandaged it up with another piece of gauze and a big ass bandaid. You felt his hand hovering over your back and you swallowed hard. The tension was so thick. “Why do you care so much?” You mustered up the strength to ask.

He scoffed. “I’ve always cared-“

You pulled up your shirt and turned to face him. You would’ve cowered from the intensity of his eyes if it wasn’t for the adrenaline rushing through your body and the alcohol you drank earlier. “Not like this,” you countered.

For the first time, you think you’ve might’ve broken him. Bakugou clears his throat and stands up. “I’m gonna check on the tea,”

You stood with him, calling after him, “Katsuki-“

He stopped. He stopped and turned around to face you. “Say that again,” he breathed. His chest rising and falling at a thunderous pace. His eyes, those vermillion colored eyes never left you.

“Say what,”

“My name,” he said. “Say it again,”

All the air left you, “and what if I don’t?”

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips as he walked over, towering over you. He pulled you close and you could just then tell the reason as to why he wanted to hear his name so bad. Yep, definitely big. “I’m okay with spending the rest of this night making you scream it,”

[a5tr0n0m1cal]

👉👈🥺 Sebastian patching an expendable up and being grumpy about it?

A stray bullet had ricocheted off the vent and into your side, making you cry out and fall to your stomach, you army crawl as much as you can through the vent before pulling yourself into the blessed safety of Sebastian’s shop.

Sweat beads your brow and you’re high on adrenaline, you sit leaning against the wall, gingerly touching your side just to confirm your fears, you were bleeding quite profusely. Fiery sensations spread up from the wound, all across your torsos right side. You paled, pressing your hand back to the wound starting to panic.

“Ahem.” A voice finally cuts through your panic enough for you to hear. “You going to buy something or are you just gonna bleed all over my floor?”

Right.

In all your panic you almost forgot to acknowledge him. “Sebastian.” You say his name, looking up at the mutated shop keeper. He cocks a brow at you, glowing cyan eyes unreadable. He tucks a stubborn piece of hair behind his webbed ear fins, a movement you’ve become familiar with when visiting him.

“Yeah?” He finally says, sounding annoyed. You’d be indignant if you weren’t so weak. You try to stand up, eyeing a medkit on his tail before feeling pain jolt through you, making you crumble back to the floor, droplets of flood splattering out. This was bad. Serious. You couldn’t die again, you had no more ferry coins.

“Please.” You say, trying to crawl, half scooting across the floor. “I’ll pay. Help me.” You plead.

Sebastian makes an annoyed sound, long thick tail flapping against the far wall in what you assume is irritation.

“This isn’t a nurses office.”

“I’ll give you everything I have.” You say, feeling woozy.

Sebastian sighs, leaning down from the great height he holds himself. Long enough he doesn’t even need to move from his spot to reach you.

Large cold hands seat your hand from your side, claws surprisingly gentle as they probe the wound. “Over here.” He grumbles, not giving you a warning as he hooks a hand under you, lifting you easily with just one palm.

He sets you down on a couple of crates pushed together, pushing on your shoulders till you’re lying down.

You vision is spotty but you catch his focused look behind his dangling esca. He yanks the medkit from his tail, flicking it open and rummaging around before finding something and biting the top off it. He spits the lid to the side and pours something on your side making you jump, pain burning through you.

“What the f-“ he keeps his third smaller arm pressed against your chest, keeping you down easily. “Quiet, I need to focus.” He snaps, threading a needle with his free hands. He meets your eyes briefly, you almost could swear with pity.

“This will hurt.” He says, prying your bloodied torn suit away from the wound.

“No really I had no ideAAAA” you cry out, feeling him slowly start to sew up your wound. It’s agonizing, but his heavy hand on your chest keeps you grounded. “Almost done, you’re doing fine.” He assures, giving you a comforting(?) squeeze. He finally closes the wound, biting the string and pulling out some bandages. You grunt as he sits you up, wrapping the bandages around your waist for you.

He’s very close. You dont think you’ve ever seen his face so up close. You notice small scars on his skin, scales that creep on the sides of his face, even gills that peek out from under his neck scarf. He clears his throat and you realize you’ve been staring at him.

“Th-thank you.” You say, lightly touching your side and feeling the bandages. He did a good job.

“Yeah well…” he lets go of you, leaning back and rising back to his usual height. “You owe me.”

You nod, moving slowly as to not rip your new stitches and retrieve all the data you’ve packed away on this run. You weakly hold it up to him and he takes it gingerly from your hand, claws brushing over the back of your hand. You swing your leg over the side of the crate, ready to leave.

“Be careful next time yeah? I don’t want that medkit to go to waste.” He says, with a lot less bite then you’re used to.

“Yeah. I got it. Thank you.”

He watches you leave, ear fins wiggling slightly.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

trying to put it into words / shining just for you

osamu dazai x reader

thoughts about helping dazai change his bandages. for the yail series 🫧

inspired by mirrorball

he is always running back home to you.

well, not always running. most of the time, he’s in a cab after a night drinking alone. or, he’s walking through the dimly lit streets of yokohama, something he can do as a man. simply put, he’s always returning to you.

he only gets an hour or two of sunshine each day. but its fine by him, if it means he stays handcuffed to you. he adores that smile, and wonders why you go to such great lengths to even catch a glimpse of it- a genuine one, at that.

he’s used to the perfomances, to calling you his pretty baby and giving you kisses on the forehead. he’s used to wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook, whispering some filthy thing about double suicide while complimenting you’re new perfume. he smiles, jokes, and acts for the masquerade revellers around him. he’ll get you out on the floor, shimmering beautiful, all to hide the pain that resides beneath the surface.

and sometimes, you’ll watch even as his shattered, bloodied edges glisten. he’s smart, and calculated, and a good man- at least, thats what he wants people to think. when he breaks, its in a million pieces.

however, late on a hush night, when no one is around, you can catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

“what happened to you!?” you scold, heaving him into the apartment. he can walk fine, but you need him in your arms to know he’s alive. blood stains your clothes and your floor, but mostly his wrists, soaking into the white gauze that covers his arms.

“i have a lot of enemies, bella.” he chuckles, hoping you didn’t see the way his eyes wince in pain when you examine his injuries closer. he’s either hazy from blood loss, or lightheaded from seeing you so worried. maybe both.

he’s hoping to avoid the inevitable. you’ll have to replace his bandages.

but he’s in too much pain to complain.

“samu.” you whisper, catching his attention. normally, he’d answer with a ‘yes, beautiful?’ or something flirty along those lines. but right now, he’s wounded, coming to you only half his weight.

you place a hand in his cheek. yes, the blood is bad. but the sadness in his eyes, the pure defeat, is so much worse.

“i’ll take care of you.” you say as you slowly begin to unravel the fabric.

he takes a deep breath, feeling the bloodied gauze peeling off from his skin. you’re about to see the labour, the locks and the pain he tries to keep hidden. he just wants to make you happy. and he worries this’ll do the opposite.

examining the injuries on his arm, you surmise a few stitches will do. but the multiple scars, faded with time and littering his skin, isn’t lost on you.

you tilt your head, lips quivering as you look at him. his eyes are looking downwards, head tilted avoiding your gaze. he’s trying to control his heartbeat like could do so easily in other intense situations. his hand squeezes yours tighter every passing minute.

he’s scared.

he ignores the sting of water and soap when you wash away the blood. he feels like the end is near, but he’s still on his tiptoes just wanting to shine for you and for everyone. he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. whether its a demon prodigy or a changed, good man, he’s afraid of being hurt.

but your touch calls off the circus and burns the disco down, gently handling his injury as you stitch it up. even when he’s still on that tightrope, still doing everything to keep you laughing at him, you stay. you stay for the charades and help him find himself afterwards.

he isn’t used to this.

but he won’t reject it.

dazai blinks staring at his injury, now tended too. he’ll have to let yosano check it in the morning, but for now, its enough.

he opens his mouth to make a joke about his near death experience. anything to avoid emotions, anything to keep you looking at him. he’s never been a natural. he just wants to try, try, and try.

but for once, he doesn’t feel like he needs to stay on that trapeze. with you, he can step down, and take a break from the show.

“thank you.” he whispers, hugging you with his good arm. “you saved my life.”

he makes sure to bury his face in your shoulder so you can’t see the pain, that true pain, etched on his face.

the calculations in his brain, the puzzles that told him vulnerability hurts you, didn’t add up to this. he showed you his weakness behind the circus show, and he was met with something else.

love. he concludes, feeling your arms hug him back.

“you scared me.” you sigh, kissing his cheek. “don’t do that again.”

he chuckles, and smiles. “no promises, belladonna.”

[scarletssienna]

Beggin' for Footnotes

Summary - Some things aren’t meant to last forever. And despite you and Wanda loving each other you’re not sure if it’s going to work out anymore. 4.0k word count

Warnings - Hurt (not much comfort), heavy angst, swearing, mommy Wanda, oral, fingering, face slapping, sub!reader, degradation, praise, begging, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, hair pulling, mean Wanda, edging, face-sitting, thigh riding

AN - This is my first post on here! I’ve done writings in the past but I thought I’d try a new format and space to post it! :)) I plan on continuing this if I can find the energy lol!

Part 2

18+, minors + men dni

Not every love was supposed to last. No matter how great, how wonderful, sometimes things still end. You knew Wanda like the back of your hand. And she knows you all the same. So when one of her vices came up after one of your worst fights, you could only watch. Wanda stood out on the back porch. Cigarette between her two fingers as she stared off into the darkness. There was this empty sickening in both of your stomachs that this may be the end. At this point, all options and solutions had been exhausted. You knew it was time. You watched out the kitchen window, unable to tear your eyes away as she slowly inhaled before a large cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, the cold temperatures enhancing it. Your fingers squeezed the sponge from the sink as soapy water flooded between your fingers. The dishes had been long forgotten lately as neither of you had had the energy to wash them. This was unusual for Wanda as she liked to keep the house showroom ready at all times. You forcefully ripped your eyes away from her as you began to wash the dishes, trying to make up for anything you could. To fix what you could in this messy situation. 

The house that had once been so loud with laughter and joy now lingered in empty silence. Your playlist of every song you two had loved played softly over the speakers around the house. If it had been several months ago you would have pulled her closely in your arms, dancing around the kitchen despite her laughs and teases about how cheesy it was. Her nose would crinkle as you sang along in Sokovian to one of her favorite songs. You butchered the pronunciation, but you would try, she could tell. She would have given in eventually and threaded her hands in your hair as she rested her forehead against yours. You would have kissed her, kissed her as if she was going to leave the second you let go. In this reality, she very well might.

You watched out the window again for a moment before getting distracted by the dish you were washing. The knife in your hands harshly tore against your flesh and you quickly dropped the knife into the sink, a soft yelp leaving your lips. You backed away quickly as blood began to drip down your hand. It was a quick scramble for the kitchen towel as you tried to stop the bleeding. Wanda had always been there to comfort you when you were injured in the past. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to stop it as tears quickly began to fall on your face. You let off a soft sob as you abandoned the dishes, heading upstairs to your shared bedroom. Hurrying into the bathroom you discarded the bloodied towel onto the sink countertops and washed the wound before messily bandaging it up. You had never been very good at doing it yourself so Wanda had always insisted on caring for you but you didn't think that was very well an option at this point. 

Tears flooded down your face as the events from the night tore your heart into shreds. You were no longer crying due to the injury. It was a different kind of pain. You stumbled over to the bed and threw your pants onto the floor before climbing into your side of the bed. The sheets were quickly pulled up to your chin as your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs. Quickly, you drifted off into a tired and pained sleep. 

When Wanda returned inside she hadn't expected to see dishes washed especially as she investigated further and saw the drops of blood on the floor and a bloody knife in the sink. Despite the fight, she still cared and loved you. She quickly rushed upstairs in an attempt to find you. When she noticed the door slightly ajar and silence in the room she quietly peaked her head in. She sighed relieved when she saw you asleep in bed, seemingly uninjured from her view. The smell of cigarettes covered her and she wandered quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the bathroom door behind her. For everyone but you her walls were high. She hardly let anyone in. and when she did, it felt as if it always ended this way. The feeling of being cursed towards relationships had set in. She washed her hair, going over the fight in her head as she wondered what could have gone differently, how she could save it. If it was even worth it at this point. 

Tensions had been rising over the past couple of weeks. You both had been working too much recently and had hardly had time for one another. It seemed as if every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, sleep, repeat. It had been killing you both. The littlest things set you both off. It would end up in screaming matches and sleeping alone every time. What set you both over the edge this time was not so little. Natasha, your mutual friend, had begun flirting with you. While she respected your relationship, she had always believed you two were not good for each other. So when you fought last week and you ended up at her house she had done nothing but comfort you. You thought nothing of Natashas' intentions but Wanda knew otherwise. This had sent her into a fit of rage when Natasha dropped you off this morning and kissed your cheek goodbye. 

You both fought for hours, arguing about anything that came to mind, but mainly Natasha. Had you understood and been able to read her mind as well, you would have understood her intentions and sided with Wanda, not seeing Natasha anymore. But you couldn't and this frustrated Wanda. When she attempted to control your mind you quickly noticed and this sent you two further down the line of fighting. You hated it when she used her powers on you. When you thought to yourself that you wished you could just forget everything that had happened Wanda broke. She had misunderstood. Thinking you had meant forgetting her. Silence fell over the fight and she went outside to have a cigarette. Her thoughts consumed her as her heart hurt. 

With how often the fights had been recently as well as how busy you've been, you'd not been intimate in weeks. The tension begins to tear you both apart. When she finished her shower she pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts before popping her head out the bathroom door to check if you were still sleeping. When she saw you, she had to determine what to do. Did she sleep with you? Or did she go to the guest room? She decided that you wouldn't want her in bed and quietly tip-toed to the guest room based on what she had misunderstood. That night she cried herself to sleep as well. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you woke up the next morning you sat up groggily and sighed to yourself as you didn't see Wanda in bed, the memories of the night prior sinking in. Despite your anger you went to see where she had slept for the night, mostly just wanting to make sure she hadn't ended up locked out on the porch freezing to death. You saw her asleep in the guest room, her makeup smudged and muddled from tears, and her shower. You sighed and went back to your room to get ready for the day. It was unusual for you to be up first and you made use of it, quietly leaving for work before she awoke. 

You returned home late that night, having gone to the bar after work with a few co-workers to unwind and relax. All you could think about was Wanda and the ache between your legs grew. You were mad, but maybe you needed that. You quietly entered the house, making a note to lock the door behind you before heading to find Wanda. You weren't extremely intoxicated, but the anger, lack of quality sleep, stress, and tequila were having a bit of an impact. You could tell she had been home for a couple of hours, the discarded takeout garbage by the trash. Suddenly she caught your eye outside on the back porch. Of course, she was smoking again. You thought to yourself before acting on impulse. You went to the door and harshly pulled the sliding door open. She let out a startled gasp that didn't happen often as she always seemed aware of your presence. 

“Get inside.” You said firmly in a tone that had been unusual for you to take on with her. You had always been the more submissive in the relationship. The words shocked you both a little. She obliged anyway, out of more surprise than anything. She put the cigarette out before coming inside. You shut the door behind her, looking into her eyes before quickly pressing her against the door in a bruising kiss. She yelped out of surprise before kissing back, her hands tangling into your hair. She ignored the taste of tequila on your lips as she knew she tasted like cigarettes and couldn't defend herself for that. 

You made quick work of snaking your hand underneath her shirt, groping her chest as your tongues began to fight. She had never seen this level of dominance out of you. While it surprised and intrigued her, she couldn't have it. You both knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of her as it had been entirely too long since you two had done anything together. Her hand tightened with a grip of your hair as she roughly pulled your head back, quickly beginning to kiss and nip at your neck. You let out a moan as she tugged at your hair, stumbling backward slightly as she pushed you off of her. 

“Upstairs. “ She muttered firmly. You could see the darkness in her eyes and did not question it, quickly moving upstairs to your room. The past few weeks your dynamic had been shallow and lacking. You both needed rules in life. You need a guideline to follow, and she needs an outlet of control. When you got upstairs you looked around the room, taking several deep breaths before going to crack a window to get some airflow. Your jaw clenched as you took a few deep breaths trying to focus on relaxing. You closed the curtains forcefully, a little too forcefully perhaps as they, along with the curtain rod came tumbling down. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall as you knew Wanda would be mad. As you heard her footsteps approach you quickly tugged off your shirt, tossing it in a pile alongside your discarded pants. You had already dug your grave and it was getting deeper. Thoughts raced through your head about what punishment would come. The more you thought the more your legs pressed together for any kind of release you could gain. Just as you sat down on the bed the door swung open. “What the hell was that?” She asked. Her voice was angry and her accent began to peak through her words as she spoke. Her head quickly turned and noticed the window. “Did you do this?” she asked in almost a patronizing tone. She knew you did it, the guilt on your face was obvious. 

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as she spoke, gnawing on it nervously as you considered your options. Slowly, you shook your head, the hesitation clear as tears brimmed your eyes. She walked over to you, one eyebrow raised in a way that she knew made you weak in the knees. She raised her hand before a loud echoing slap hit your cheek. You let out a moan and pressed your legs together harder as tears finally fell.  “Lying gets you nowhere. I'll ask you again, Detka.” she paused, faining tenderness as she wiped a tear away from your face. “Did you do this?” every word she spoke was drawn out and stern as she raised her eyebrow and held your chin in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. Slowly you began to nod, bracing yourself for the slap you knew was about to come. When she raised her hand a slap did not come. Instead, she giggled at your flinch and reached down, snapping your bra snap on your shoulder. “This is what happens when little girls try to do things that are too big for them,” she spoke slowly, making sure each word sunk in. “You didn't even have time to fully undress for Mommy.” she shook her head and snapped your bra strap once again before pushing you to lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of you, straddling one of your thighs as she ground her hips, working herself up. 

“Please Mommy,” you whined out softly as your hips raised into her, begging for any amount of pleasure you could get. Another slap fell hard across your cheek and you felt your thoughts slowly drift further into a fuzzy headspace. You moaned at the feeling. Her hand was wet from the tears that had fallen down your face and she made it a point to wipe her hand on your bare stomach. 

“I didn’t permit you to speak. Did I?” She asked firmly as she leaned down, kissing and nipping at your neck. You shook your head frantically as you struggled to keep your hands by your sides.  She slid her hands back up your stomach and muttered under her breath. “Good girl.” Before pulling your bra down to reveal your breasts. She wasted no time as she quickly kissed down towards your chest, taking the small bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around your nipple as her hand snaked down into your panties, finally touching you where you needed it most. She gasped dramatically and pulled her head up, locking eyes with you when she felt your wetness. Your face turned a deep shade of red as she proceeded to tease and taunt you for how wet you had been at her from only just slapping and teasing you. All of your thoughts were consumed by her in a fuzzy bliss. 

Without warning she slipped two fingers inside of you easily. Her fingers made quick work of pumping in and out, stretching and curling them just where you needed it most. You moaned loudly and wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her body closer to you as you hid your face in her shoulder, biting down softly on the tender flesh. This depicted a soft moan from Wanda as her hips jerked slowly against your thigh. She pulled her body back with a grin as she began to bite softly across your jaw. 

“Let me see your pretty face baby. I want to see you while I fuck you.” She said her fingers worked faster, her thumb reaching up to touch your throbbing clit. You blushed red as you looked into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window casting a moonlit glow across her face, a smirk forming across it. Just as quickly as she worked you up to an orgasm, she stopped. She pulled her hand away quickly and you found yourself frantically reaching for her wrist as your hips jerked underneath her.

“No! Mommy!” You yelled out exasperated as tears fell quickly from your eyes at the loss of sensation. She smirked down at you, her tongue slowly licking her lips. 

“You didn't think I'd let you cum that quickly after what a brat you've been the past few weeks little girl?” She asked in a patronizing manner as she pulled her hand out of your panties and brought her fingers to her lips. You moaned at the sight, her tongue licking her fingers clean, making a show of the process. Her fingers then slid into your mouth and you groaned at the taste of your arousal mixed with her. Your tongue swirled around her fingers as you proceeded to suck her fingers. 

“Please Mommy.” was all you could seem to muster out after she pulled her fingers out of your mouth. Your mind was clouded and fogged and just where Wanda wanted it. 

“Silly me,” she smiled as she looked down. “Mommy has been giving you all the pleasure, she completely forgot to undress.” she motioned towards her clothes before standing up. You groaned and reached for her when she stood, no longer touching you. You let out a soft murmur as your hands grabbed at her shirt, pressing your legs together. She stripped before walking back towards you. She tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them towards the pile of clothes before doing the same with your bra. You couldn't help but notice the wetness that had soaked Wanda's panties and now glistened her thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight as all you wanted to do was taste her. 

You knew how often you had fought lately and how the arguments left you due for punishment. You just weren't exactly sure what form it would take. Anticipation flooded through your body as you looked up into her eyes, your eyes wide and innocent. 

“You're going to eat me out until I cum, maybe then I'll give you what you want,” she stated firmly as she squeezed at your hips. Her touches were not gentle. Her fingers dug into your tender flesh, all of her anger, stress, and tension coming out onto you. You moaned at the touch, more sensitive and aware with each touch and mark she left across your body. She let go with a slap to your thigh and you groaned at the loss of her. You sat up and watched as she moved around the room, sitting on the bed in the middle, spreading her legs for you as she watched with dark eyes. “Come make Mommy feel good.” Her voice dripped with arousal as her words of encouragement enticed you further, not that it took much at this point though.

Quickly you moved and settled yourself between her legs. You slowly began kissing up her thighs, licking the path of arousal she had left for you. She grumbled impatiently above you, clearly already ready for attention where she needed it. Her hand snaked through your hair, gently at first as it stroked your scalp. She then grabbed a fistful, tugging your hair harshly as she forced you up higher, pushing your head between her legs. At the tug, you let out a loud moan as you cursed under your breath. You got the hint and stuck out your tongue quickly getting work between her legs. Your tongue licked up her slit before it brought fast attention to her clit. You brought your fingers up and slipped two fingers inside of her. You were kinder than Wanda had been to you, moving your fingers less harshly and aggressively. It worked nonetheless as she quickly rose to an orgasm with the combination of both your fingers and tongue. Her grip on your hair did not loosen as her hips began to jerk against your face. As she reached her peak she let out a loud moan, her hips moving frantically as she tugged harshly at your hair. The taste that hit your tongue made you moan as you quickly lapped up as much as she would allow before pulling your head away. 

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, a gentler hand moving to your neck. You leaned up her body as you kissed her passionately. When her tongue slid across your bottom lip and your mouth you eagerly allowed it entrance. A smile grew across her face as she pulled away. You whined at the loss but it was quickly relieved when she pressed a singular finger to your lips. 

“Mommy.” You moaned out as your hips began to grind against her stomach. Her hand snaked down her stomach to touch you, her fingers ghosting over your clit. 

“Come sit on my face Detka.” She said firmly as she adjusted her positioning, letting your thighs rest next to her head. You were hesitant yet eager as you slowly lowered yourself down, moaning loudly as her tongue finally made contact. Your hips jerked against her face as you ground against her tongue. You were worked up quickly, faster than ever as she seemed to know exactly where you needed it. She mumbled out from underneath you as she worked you up towards an orgasm. “Beg for it, Malyshka.”

Quickly words began to tumble out of your mouth as desperation to cum was needed. “Please, Mommy. Please!” You practically yelled as your hips jerked more, her nails digging into your thighs. “Please let me cum.” You begged. She complied with a grin.

“Cum for Mommy, Detka.” She said as her tongue moved rapidly beneath you. Instantly you reached your peak, reaching for the bead frame in front of you to steady yourself as you moaned loudly. When Wanda felt you had settled enough she gently pulled you down next to her and into her arms. You shook a little in Wanda's arms as she held you for the first time in weeks. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she slowly combed through the mess she had made, taking time to massage your scalp. All the thoughts of your fights had completely melted away and you were consumed by her and her embrace. 

“Mommy.” You murmured as tears began to fall on your cheeks again, your face nuzzling closely in the crook of her neck.

“You did so good baby, so good.” She praised quietly as she kissed behind your ear. Her fingertips found a gentle pattern of scratching up and down your back with one hand while the other massaged where she pulled your hair. Praise was whispered into your ear as she held you closely, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Slowly your sobs calmed and you settled into her embrace, slowly lifting your head to leave soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wanda.” The words left your mouth for the first time in weeks and a soft smile crept across your lips. Wandas' face glimmered with love as she pulled you into a kiss. 

“I love you too, Detka.” She whispered through kisses as she could only hold you closer. After a while of the silent embraces Wanda's thoughts of the fights crept back into memory. “We’re going to be okay.” She hesitated and looked towards you. “Right?” She spoke softly, her voice filled with fear at the thought of losing you. You nodded and kissed her softly, your mind foggy and cloudy as all you wanted was to be close to her. That night you slept close, tangled up in each other's love, neither wanting to pull away.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning when you woke up snuggled up in Wanda's arms felt different. The bliss that usually followed had dissipated and all you could think about was the pain of being with her. You gained a sinking pit in your stomach as guilt and fear coursed through your body. The flight response kicked in. You couldn't be with her, not now. Tears began to fall as you quickly but carefully left the bed and Wanda's embrace. Hurriedly you moved for some clothes as you threw on the closest things you could find without waking her. You reached for the door handle but paused. One glance back to Wanda confirmed it. You couldn't be here. So where did you go? Who greeted you with open arms? Natasha.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick? 

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson. 

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization. 

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses. 

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room. 

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip. 

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow. 

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair. 

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast? 

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered. 

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind. 

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window. 

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes. 

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge. 

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword. 

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight. 

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air. 

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night. 

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.” 

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you. 

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin. 

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass. 

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal. 

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact. 

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time. 

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie. 

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration. 

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside. 

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful. 

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost? 

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins. 

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less. 

Your own family had never been so generous. 

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity. 

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat. 

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.” 

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.” 

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night. 

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned. 

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?” 

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.” 

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges. 

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees. 

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?” 

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.” 

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.” 

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground. 

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets. 

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other. 

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched. 

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down. 

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly. 

Relentlessly. 

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding. 

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion. 

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.” 

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh. 

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.” 

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight. 

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain. 

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?” 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?” 

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?” 

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests. 

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist. 

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.” 

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily. 

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.” 

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.” 

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about. 

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies. 

You’d be found out in no time. 

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?” 

Can and not do. 

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals. 

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that. 

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips. 

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?” 

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past. 

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains. 

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you. 

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge. 

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?” 

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.” 

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief. 

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences. 

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools. 

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron. 

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds. 

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes. 

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers. 

There was no running from this. 

“Okay,” you whisper.

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