#their love is safe and comforting and i would like to be wrapped up in it

[witherby]

If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol

I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."

Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering

Masterlist is Here!

"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."

"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"

"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."

Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.

"Are they —"

"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."

"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"

"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."

Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.

"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.

"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."

"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"

"..."

"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"

"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal — the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."

Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.

"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."

"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."

"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."

Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.

"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."

"I'm all ears."

"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."

Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.

"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"

"Well. They're seventeen."

"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"

"Time flies. It's inevitable."

"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."

Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.

"You aren't due back for another week."

"We're wrapping it up tonight!"

"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."

"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."

"I'll pass the request along."

"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"

"...if you slick back your hair, yes."

Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.

--

True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.

You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.

"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"

"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."

You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."

"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.

"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."

"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."

You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.

"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."

"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track —"

"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."

"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.

"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"

You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."

"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.

"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."

"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"

"Uh, I can try."

Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.

"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."

"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"

You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."

"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."

"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"

"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.

"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."

"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"

"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."

"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."

Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."

Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.

The dip of another person's weight.

You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.

"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"

You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.

"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"

He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.

"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"I don't know your name."

You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.

"Do you need to?" You ask.

The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.

"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."

His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.

Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.

"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.

"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.

"Can I —" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."

Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.

"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"

"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."

You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."

"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."

"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"

Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.

"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."

You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.

In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.

[gvshing]

Roommate Vi✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Masterlist C.W. mentions of being drunk

Roommate Vi loudly plays her games in the middle of the night. It’s 2 am and she’s screaming at 14 year olds for getting her killed in Fortnite. “Dude! What the fuck! You were supposed to cover my ass!” Is all you hear, all night long, through the paper thin walls. When she gets too loud you’re throwing pillows at the wall. Her big ass headphones planted atop her head, denting her hair into the shape of them, tuning out the sounds of quiet thumps against her wall. You eventually have to go knock on her door to tell her to keep it down around 3 am. She has work in the morning, you can’t quite wrap your head around how she plays all night and still makes it in on time. Vi will apologize, embarrassment etching her features. Though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like seeing your frazzled state standing at her bedroom door every night. Cozied into your pajamas and a blanket wrapped around you, sheltering you from the cold. She keeps it cold as hell in the apartment. She runs naturally hot so you never complain, enjoying wearing the hoodies around the apartment and the old stained sweats you’ve owned since you were a teenager. They were more comfortable than the shorts that rode up or the tank tops you were always worried would move and flash her. She loved seeing your sleepy eyes and frizzy hair from all the tossing and turning trying to tune her out. She stays quiet for as long as she can, but she has a hard time controlling her volume when she’s angry or heavily enthused. Usually, she’ll get loud about an hour after you’ve scolded her, but that works for you. By that time you’re sound asleep.

Room mate Vi comes home drunk on the weekends after nights of bar hopping with her friends you still have yet to meet. Except in passing when they’re helping her get into the apartment. You’ll do a silent exchange of taking the load of Vi’s weight into your arms, nodding and a quiet thank you slipping through your mouth before they’re gone again. You’ll pull her into the room, wrecked from her getting ready earlier. Clothes thrown all over her bed and hair products splayed across her dresser. Moving the clothes to the side, you carefully help her into bed, she throws herself the rest of the way down and cackles loudly. “Woah! Hi Y/N! When did you get here? Or me? I missed you~” In a sing-song tone she’ll realize she made it home safe once again. She cracks her eyes open into slits to glimpse you taking her shoes off. Sighing loudly as you place the shoes on the ground, she huffs in annoyance. “What could you possibly be annoyed about, Vi? I’m helping you.” You say, frustration lacing your voice. You’re not mad that she’s come home like this again, she’s still young, that’s what she’s supposed to do at this age. Still worry swirls around your chest at the thought of her friends not being there one day, but deep down you know she’ll always make it out safe. She’s strong, even shit faced drunk. And to be honest, you never mind helping her after a night of drunken adventures. It warms your heart to know you can be there for her in such an intimate way, even if her drunken self always finds something to groan and pout about. She’ll continue sighing loudly until you sit next to her lying body on the bed. Stroking her hair until she settles, “I’m going to grab you water and some medicine for when you wake up, okay?” She groans once more and throws her arms around your waist, rapidly shaking her head, holding onto you until sleep finds her. You sneak out of her room and return with the hangover remedies, softly setting them down on the nightstand and quietly exiting the room, fearful you’ll wake her up.

In the morning, she’ll wake up in a haze, quickly take the medication and gulp down the water you left for her. She’ll stumble out of her bedroom, finding you in the kitchen making breakfast. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get that drunk or make you take care of me.” She apologizes profusely, clambering over to the table to sit down, wincing at the way her head pounds harder when she sits down a bit too hard. “I never mind, Vi. You’ll feel better soon. Want breakfast?” You both sit in silence until after she finishes eating. Slowly she’ll feel better and then you’ll recount your night of babysitting her drunken persona. Secretly, she loves when you take care of her, drunken or not. And you love to be the one taking care of her. Love the feeling of being useful to her. 

Room mate Vi has a bad day at work like 70% of the time. You’re not sure why she still works there if she hates it, but she needs the money and you can understand that. She slams the door open and closes it a bit loud and viscous. Stomping to her room to scream into a pillow and punch her mattress out of anger. You hesitantly walk up to her door and knock lightly. You hear a quiet ‘come in.’ through the door and you slowly open the door and stand in the threshold. “You- What’s wrong?” Anxiety spreading through you. You’re never mad at her for getting as rough as she does when she’s mad. But, it still makes you feel uneasy. She exhales a breath of irritation. “Just a bad day. Work fucking kills me. The customers have to be having meetings in the mornings about how they’re all going to come in and ruin my day. Like they have to be. It’s insane.” You give her a look of sympathy and walk over to her desk chair. “I’m sorry. Tell me about it?” She’ll rant for an hour about how every customer was rude, obnoxious or stupid. Ending it feeling better about her day having gotten it out of her system. You truly make her feel at ease.

Room mate Vi and you reserve Sunday nights to hang out together. Usually cozying up in the living room, a shared blanket and too many snacks for one night, a movie playing on the TV. Every Sunday you trade off who gets to pick the movie. Vi usually picks an action movie or a romcom that she makes you promise not to tell anyone she enjoys. You taunt her with the threat of telling whatever friend that brings her home that week and she’ll tickle you until you can’t breathe and you’re promising over and over you won’t actually tell anyone. She settles back into her spot and gleams with triumph. Throughout the night you guys always find yourself moving closer to the other until you’re practically cuddling. Snuggled into her side and her arm thrown around the back of the couch, that’ll eventually get tired of being up there and trail down to being wrapped around your shoulders instead. You fall asleep like that and she gently scoops you up and brings you to your room. Tucking you into bed, she’ll push your hair back behind your ear and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. She tells herself it’s normal to feel the way she does with you. You’re friends after all. She walks out of your room and softly closes the door. She stands in front of your door for a minute and catches her breath, waiting for her heart to slow down back to its normal pace. She just likes being around you. Nothing more, you’re a good friend. She finds herself staring at you, often, yeah. Friends do that. Catching herself missing you when you walk away, and imagines kissing you, more than she probably should, it happens, it’s normal. Yeah, friends feel that way sometimes. Sure.

Room mate Vi who isn’t able to convince herself she doesn’t like you when you come home one day, giddy about a first date you have that night. She starts feeling a searing jealousy rising in her. She can’t push it away and she’s pouting all day long. Sending you off with just a “Yeah, have fun. Be safe.” when you’re leaving. It leaves you perplexed, her sudden coldness. She sits at home, brooding, the rest of the night until you’re home. When she sees the look of disappointment on your face, she feels her heart leap. She feels bad for finding joy in your disappointment, but she can’t help herself. “Are you okay? Date not go well?” She hears the eagerness in her voice and inwardly winces. You huff and trudge to the couch, throwing yourself on it. You lay across her lap and stare up the ceiling. She strokes your hair and raises her eyebrows. A soft ‘hm?’ sound leaves her throat. “It wasn’t bad, but there just wasn’t any chemistry. I feel bad. I was so excited but she was so bland. I almost feel like she did it on purpose to drive me away. Maybe she didn’t want to go out and was just being nice when she said yes… I don’t know.” you sigh in defeat and toss yourself around to shove your face into her lap, shading your face away from her. She exhales softly and clears her throat, unease setting in. “Maybe? I doubt it. I bet she was just boring. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you? You’re so pretty and funny.” You snort in amusement. Twisting around to face her again. “You’re just saying that because you have to. But, I appreciate it.” She stares at you in disbelief. “I’m not just saying that, babe. You are a catch, people should feel blessed to be in your company. Let alone in such an intimate way.” You stare at her, unable to convince yourself that she’s being real. “Thanks, Vi. I appreciate you. It was just disappointing, but my feelings aren’t hurt.” She nods in a solemn agreement. She swallows her anxiety and reaches over to grab your hand. You interlock fingers and smile down at your connected hands. “Go on a date with me. I’ll show you what a good time with someone who values you, should feel.” You choke on your spit when you hear her say that and sit up fast. “What? I-” you stare at her and she continues staring at you, confidence spilling out from her. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She smiles mischievously. “Uh.. Okay. Fine. If you want to, you don’t have to do that just because you feel bad for me. That’ll make me feel worse.” You trail off and she shakes her head, chuckling lightly. “I mean it. I was going to ask you either way.” You laugh loudly and throw yourself back into her lap, covering your blushing face.

Room mate Vi plans the most thoughtful dates. A picnic with your favorite foods, stay at home movie night with a fort she made herself, though it looks janky and falls down a few times, surprise beach days. By the end of every date you share, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, feeling like you did a thousand sit ups from the pain of laughing too much and butterflies making a home in your chest. She always makes you feel that deserving feeling she preached to you. With her it felt easy, it made sense. And you felt silly for not seeing it earlier. It felt obvious that you both would be a good match together, but yet it took you so long. And it took her asking you. What if she didn’t say anything? Would you be living your life going on mediocre dates until the end of time? Either way, you’re glad you don’t have to do that. Glad you have each other.

Girlfriend Vi adores you and never goes a day without telling you how pretty and smart you are. She loves to see you shy away from her, loves to see your coy smile. You continue your Sunday movie nights, but with more kisses and cuddling now. You go with her on the weekends to watch how she gets herself to that point of drunken-ness. But, you’re the one taking her home now, not just tucking her in. You’re cuddling into bed next to her now. Her warmth radiates off her, no need for blankets when you have her to warm up. You wake up to her head shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around you and legs locking you in place. She snores lightly, peacefully resting off her hangovers, hard work days or rough workouts. You kiss her on the top of her head and snuggle closer into her, closing your eyes to drift off into that same peaceful rest. Feeling thankful you’ll never have to live without her or her calming presence. Even when she’s mad. 

[one-green-frog]

Hi! I was so happy when I saw that your requests were open for your platonic yandere batfam series, also I’m sorry if I send in too many, just do the ones that interest you bc I can’t wait to see them!!

Can I please request them dragging you to a family movie night and sleepover (if you want) together

Snuggled in

By now, it felt like you had lived at the manor since the very beginning. The grand halls, the endless corridors, and the hidden nooks and crannies—all of it was as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

Your life had settled into a new normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be when surrounded by the Wayne family and their complete and utter devotion to you. They were obsessed, and you knew it. Their attention was intense, overwhelming at times, but you had grown to accept it. Maybe even crave it. The way they cared for you, how they anticipated your needs before you even voiced them—it was comforting, intoxicating even.

Earlier today, Dick had texted you.

"Movie night. I'll come get you later."

There was no room for declination, not that you wanted to refuse. Movie nights were one of the best things about living at the manor, especially when everyone was present. It wasn’t just about the films—it was about them, about the closeness, the warmth of being surrounded by people who made you feel safe. Sure, you loved spending time with them individually, but when they were together, it felt like a real family, a family you never wanted to leave.

So, all that was left to do now was wait, to enjoy the "calm before the storm."

It didn’t take long before Dick appeared in your doorway, his signature grin in place as he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you toward the theater room. His grip was firm—just a bit tighter than necessary, as if he feared you might pull away. As if he was still afraid you might reject them.

You knew they had doubts. That paranoia whispered to them constantly, telling them that your love for them wasn’t real, that one day, if they let their guard down, you’d disappear. It hurt knowing they feared that, but at the same time, you understood. They knew what they were doing wasn’t exactly right. The way they needed you, the way they clung to you—it was too much, even by their own standards. And yet, they couldn’t stop.

And you? You didn’t fight it. Maybe you should have, but deep down, you liked the way they cared for you. How they made you feel wanted.

When you arrived, everyone was already there, and unsurprisingly, a spot had been saved just for you. Judging by the tension in the air, there must have been a fight before you got here. The privilege of sitting next to you wasn’t something any of them would just give up. It seemed that this time, Damian and Dick had won, both looking entirely too pleased with themselves while the others shot them varying degrees of annoyance.

But now that you were here, no one dared to argue.

Time with you was precious, something none of them wanted to risk ruining. You were the one thing that held them together, that kept them from spiraling apart. They all knew it.

“Jason, why don't you pick the movie?” you said as you settled into your seat.

Jason raised a brow, looking mildly surprised but pleased. He was always good at picking movies, always knowing exactly what suited your mood. Sometimes, he chose thrillers, knowing you enjoyed the adrenaline rush. Other times, he picked romances, sweet and indulgent. No matter what he chose, you knew it would be perfect.

But in the end, the movie never really mattered.

Because the real highlight was always the closeness, the warmth of your family surrounding you.

Dick wasted no time wrapping himself around you, his body practically molding to yours. He had always been the most physically affectionate, taking any excuse to hold you. On your other side, Damian leaned against you, quiet but solid, his presence grounding. He never admitted it, but during movie nights, he always ended up snuggled against you like a cat seeking warmth.

Time passed in a comfortable blur. The others rotated around you, each finding a way to be close. Jason would ruffle your hair as he got up to grab snacks, Tim would drape himself lazily against your side when exhaustion took over, and even Bruce—ever the stoic—would rest a steady hand on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there.

It was getting late, the movie long ended and the comforting presence of everyone slowly lulled you to sleep. You tried to fight it, wanting to enjoy the moment more, but at some point you lost the fight with sleep.

Your head grew heavier, your body sinking into the warmth around you. The others noticed almost immediately. Their voices quieted, movements slowed, as if afraid to wake you.

Bruce was the first to move. Carefully, he lifted you into his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, while Dick untangled Damian from your lap. He fell asleep first and somehow always ending up in your lap, snuggling into you as if seeking your warmth. The transition was smooth, practiced. They had done this before.

Your room was dark and quiet when Bruce laid you down, pulling the blankets over you with practiced ease. He lingered, brushing a hand through your hair, his eyes never leaving your face.

You had saved him. Saved all of them.

Bruce had long believed that some wounds would never heal, that his family would remain fractured, bound together only by shared tragedy. But then you came along—his son, his light, the one thing that brought them back together.

There were many things he regretted. Things he would never be able to fix.

But with you here, it felt like he had a second chance.

That was enough.

And as he sat beside you, watching over you as you slept, he let himself believe—just for tonight—that everything was exactly as it should be.

Taglist: @lilyalone

This was so much fun writing!

Thank you so much for requesting, I'll get to your other ask as soon as possible!

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Safe With You, Always

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: Discussions of reproductive rights, abortion laws, political distress, anxiety, feelings of helplessness, comfort, soft Simon, protective Simon, affirmations of love. If these topics are triggering or distressing for you, please take care of yourself and skip this story.

Author’s Note: This piece is deeply personal, reflecting the fear and frustration many women are feeling right now. If you’re struggling with the weight of everything happening, please know you’re not alone. Take care of yourself, and lean on the people who love you. Simon would want you to.

Summary: The world feels like it’s crumbling around you, and the weight of it all is unbearable. When fear and anger threaten to consume you, Simon reminds you that you’re not alone—that with him, you are safe.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The news droned on in the background, the screen glowing in the dimly lit living room, but you weren’t really watching anymore. The words blurred together, each headline another blow to your already fraying nerves. You gripped the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric as if it could somehow ground you.

It wasn’t just today. It wasn’t just one decision or one law—it was everything. It was the feeling of being powerless, of screaming into a void that only answered back with silence or worse, laughter. Every time you thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. Every time you thought, this has to be the last straw, another was added to the pile.

Your chest was tight, breath coming in uneven bursts as you pressed a hand against your sternum, trying to will away the anxiety curling in your ribs. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted—

The couch dipped beside you, and before you could even look up, a warm, calloused hand covered yours, easing the tension in your fingers.

Simon.

He didn’t speak right away, just reached for the remote and turned off the TV, casting the room into a soft, heavy silence. He let you breathe, let you process, before finally breaking the quiet.

“You’re shakin’, love.” His voice was low, gentle, but laced with quiet concern.

You swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “I—” Your voice cracked, and you sucked in a sharp breath, trying again. “I just feel so… so helpless.”

Simon exhaled slowly, shifting closer. He didn’t press, didn’t demand you explain—he just waited, patient and unwavering, the steady presence you needed.

You clenched your hands into fists, staring down at them in your lap. “It feels like the whole world is against us. Our rights, our choices… it’s like we’re not even people to them. Just something they can control.” Your breath hitched as frustration and fear tangled together in your chest. “I don’t—I don’t feel safe, Simon. I don’t feel safe anywhere.”

His grip on your hand tightened—not painfully, but firm enough to anchor you.

“I know.” His voice was rough with something deep, something barely contained. Anger? No. Fury. Not at you, never at you. But at the world that made you feel this way.

“I wish I could tell you it’s gonna get better tomorrow,” he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, steady circles against your skin. “That one day you’ll wake up and all this shite will be fixed. But I can’t.”

Your throat tightened. “Then what’s the point?”

Simon shifted, turning so he could cup your cheek in his palm. His touch was warm, solid—real. “The point is you don’t fight this alone.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, catching the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “The point is you’ve got people who love you, who will stand with you, fight for you. Me included.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “It just feels so… endless.”

“It does.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “But you’re not carrying this alone, yeah?” He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your skin. “I’ll carry it with you. For as long as you need. Forever, if I have to.”

A broken sound left your throat, something between a sob and a laugh, and Simon pulled you against his chest without hesitation. His arms locked around you, strong and unyielding, holding you together when you felt like falling apart.

“You’re safe with me,” he murmured against your hair. “No matter what, you’re safe.”

You curled into him, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like a lifeline, allowing yourself to believe him—if only for tonight.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 5

His wife was a stubborn madam. Cassian was glad for it. He needed his ego matching sometimes. He wasn’t always hot temper, he could be moulded and softened – but he wasn’t quite sure yet if his wife could. Nesta seemed brittle like she might snap if he pushed her too hard. The spark had been there when he’d tried to touch her. Invoking her anger was better than the shell of a female she’d been during the ceremony. Already, he was guilty that she hadn’t understood the words that were exchanged. He would teach her his language. It could be a way for them to bond. Illyrian was a beautiful language. With little else, they had plenty of songs and stories to keep them going through the bleak winter months. An immersion to Illyria would show her that his people were good and deserved to live.

At no point during the first few hours did Nesta make any attempt to join him in their marital bed nor did she make any attempt to leave. She simply remained huddled by the brazier, adding an extra log to it now and then. Once, she had edged close to the bed and Cassian had held his breath whilst pretending to sleep, but she simply dragged a blanket off the edge and wrapped it around herself.

Cassian was stubborn but he also valued his sleep, so he stopped feigning it and let himself sink into a slumber, safe with the knowledge that his wife was mere feet away – and that she couldn’t kill him in his sleep.

He was an early riser – and it seemed his wife was too. Cassian strode across the tent and attempted to kiss her forehead, but it was met with a swipe of her arms in the air and a hiss like a cat. Her hair was already neatly pinned back. Nesta’s eyes were bloodshot and there was a pallor to her skin. She hadn’t slept, not for a moment. The sight of the plate still half-full had his brow furrowing.

‘Why didn’t you eat?’

‘Not hungry.’

She was muted again as Cassian polished off the leftovers. It allowed him a chance to watch her. If Cassian didn’t know any better, he’d say the weight of the world was upon her shoulders. What worries could the sister of the high lady have? An eternal life of beauty and riches was one many would kill over.

He fished through the pile of clothing he’d had made for her to better suit the Illyrian weather – and to integrate her better. Nesta stood gripping the gown to her chest until he looked away, and only then did she hurriedly change clothes. 

‘Why can’t I wear my clothes?’

He touched two fingers to the thick fabric and was met with another snarl from his wife. ‘Not harming you,’ he said, unable to keep the taunt from his voice. ‘This is better for the cold.’

‘It is summer,’ she insisted.

Cassian laughed richly. ‘An Iron Crest summer, sweetheart. You’ll be lucky if it’s warm enough to roll your sleeves up.’

‘And winter?’

‘Well, Rhysand has agreed to build us a home here. So, when you meet with the shadowsinger, ensure you emphasise the necessity of haste.’ His fingers caressed her face and he withdrew them before she could swipe at him. ‘You won’t freeze. I have plenty of ways to keep you warm.’

‘How has nobody ever run you through with a blade?’

Nesta’s fire was beautiful. A female who traded barbs was so much better than one who kept her head down. Cassian loved to battle. Her insults were practically foreplay to him, so he couldn’t help himself from grinning down at her. The Mother had chosen well.

He gestured to a scar on his abdomen. ‘Somebody tried to gut me like a fish once.’

‘Who was it? I should like to shake their hand.’

‘That would be me,’ came the low, cold voice of the shadowsinger.

Cassian’s anger that the male had dared to enter his tent unpermitted was soon washed away with a greater fury as his wife stood and allowed Azriel to embrace her. She leaned into his touch, found comfort in it. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as Nesta held the shadowsinger tightly.

Her eyes were closed as Azriel peeled away. His hazel eyes searched her face.

‘You’re well?’

Cassian knew the question he wanted to ask. Did the Illyrian brute harm you?

Nesta dipped her chin in acknowledgement.

‘I’ll give you privacy. Bring Nesta to the brown tent on the eastern edge of camp. You’ll know it when you see it, shadowsinger.’

Cassian sauntered away, whistling as he went, to pretend that leaving his wife clutching Azriel’s arm didn’t feel like a grave wound. The shadowsinger was familiar, that was all. It did give him a little hope that she hadn’t entirely discounted Illyrians as a race worth keeping around.

He knew shadows would be sifting through every part of his tent, rifling through his belongings in search of secrets to present to their master. They would find nothing. Cassian was an open book. He kept no secrets. There would be no secret missives or written plots against the high lord because Cassian couldn’t write. He’d learnt to find the blessing in it rather than the curse. His plots were made by mouth alone with no evidence to be traced.

‘A late morning,’ said Balthazar in greeting.

‘I have a very beautiful wife,’ he replied.

The male dipped his head then joined him on the walk through the camp. Males were already training for the day. Each ring was carefully observed to report back on weaknesses. More than fighting, they’d go through rigorous drills to ensure cohesion in the ranks. They were to move as one fluid unit. When the call to battle came, Cassian’s males would survive.

He could hardly believe that it was the same camp that he’d been dumped in after breaking Rhysand’s bones. Only Devlon had stopped Cassian killing him that day by hauling him away by the scruff of his neck. Change had been difficult. There was no soft stepping or gentle words. Cassian had been a battering ram to force the changes he’d wanted to see. It would have been so easy to fall onto the same well-trodden paths as the others - to become bitter and jaded and hate the world. Hope could be a powerful thing. Hope had been the burning force that led Cassian along year after year. He dreamed of Illyria being a place that bloomed rather than a place to die. He bided his time, growing stronger, more powerful, until he was able to challenge the previous lord and hold the mantle for his own. He’d shed more blood keeping it until the tide began to change. The lower ranks – the bastards and weaker ones – and the youth that Cassian had always taken care of, shared his rations with, helped build tents with, came to his side. And they outnumbered the others. It was either follow or be conquered.

‘Isn’t it your day off?’

Balthazar shrugged. ‘I figured an extra pair of hands could be of assistance today.’

‘You think I can’t handle my wife?’

His friend snorted in response. ‘I’m surprised you’re alive.’

‘There’s a magical contract,’ Cassian admitted, feeling sheepish. ‘She’s forbidden from hurting me.’

That made Balthazar laugh himself hoarse. ‘The famed Lord of Bloodshed hiding behind magic so his wife doesn’t kill him.’

‘Laugh all you want. I’m glad to have a wife who’s capable of the act. I don’t like them meek.’

‘You don’t like them at all,’ he countered. ‘Or, you didn’t.’

Most Illyrians had weak magic, but the few like him that did have power were only cursed with the power to kill. Not a single Illyrian had ever shown the ability to heal. The high lord could have situated a few of the many healers at his disposal in Illyria, knowing full well that they ended their days sore and bloodied, but he did not. They were left only with herbal remedies that did little. With no way to truly prevent pregnancy, Cassian had never taken the risk. No female had ever really turned his head either. As a product of their society, females were meek. Too many of the females in Illyria were downtrodden. Whenever he saw a female with her head down, he almost wanted to marry her to simply save her from the family she had. But he couldn’t marry them all. He could be the change to the males though. Could put a stop to it for the next generation.

‘Well, this one gave me a piece of her mind when we first met,’ he admitted. ‘Couldn’t say no after that.’

That, and the fact it had felt as though an arrow had been shot into his heart when she looked at him with her blazing silver eyes. Mating bonds were sacred things. He was glad that he had waited. Glad that it was Nesta who he would share a forever with.

‘Well, I’ll be around if you need me.’

‘I won’t,’ Cassian reassured him.

Balthazar simply snorted again as he strolled away.

Cassian had done the morning rounds, checking in on his camp, when Azriel deigned to bring Nesta to him.

‘Fly away to your master.’

Azriel murmured something too low to hear in Nesta’s ear and Cassian felt himself tensing at the brush of his lips upon her skin. Then he was gone, dissolved into shadow.

His wife folded her arms across her chest. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

There were a group of females gathered already in the great tent who were clearing away the communal breakfast. It was always the same thing – a runny porridge – but in the summer months, they had fruit to go with it. It filled a hole and provided energy.

‘You’ll be preparing lunch.’

‘I’m an awful cook,’ she grumbled.

Cassian tutted. ‘That’s because you’ve not been cooking Illyrian dishes. Caeria, this is your new apprentice.’ He took Nesta by the shoulders to present her to one of the female elders in the camp. She had a sharp-tongue but a good heart. It was Caeria who oversaw the cooking and planned meals for such a number. ‘You’ll find my wife eager and willing. Make sure she eats then after lunch, send her to the big house.’

In front of him, Nesta seemed to simmer like a pot ready to boil over. For good measure, Cassian gave her a pat on the backside to urge her forwards.

Nesta’s head whipped round, nostrils flared. ‘How dare you.’

‘It didn’t harm you, did it?’ Cassian grinned.

She pressed her hands together in prayer then inhaled deeply. ‘When you die, this world will celebrate.’

He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Oh, look who found their claws.’

‘Do you plan to haunt me all day or may I have respite from your company?’

The females exchanged wary looks. Had a male spoken to him that way – without respect – it would be Cassian’s duty to ensure they remembered who they were speaking to. This female, this utterly brilliant female that he had the pleasure to call his mate, could shred him with her words for all he cared. He found joy in it.

‘I will find you after lunch. Would you like a kiss?’

‘Certainly not.’

He gave an exaggerated wince. ‘Soon you’ll beg me for them.’

‘If I ask Caeria to poison your meal, would the binding of our agreement allow that?’

Caeria went pale. ‘I would do no such thing, Lord Cassian.’

***

The arrogant toerag that was unfortunately her husband departed the tent with a spring in his step. She hated the male. There had to be a way to be free from him. A dissolution of the marriage. Perhaps Azriel would kill him for her. But he was valued here, Nesta could see already. There was a different feel to this camp than Windhaven.

Caeria directed her to a huge pile of vegetables that needed peeling.

‘You make breakfast and lunch every day?’

‘Yes. Evening meal too,’ she said, gesturing to the tent where many hands were busy. The bulk were females although there were younger males who weren’t quite adults helping to haul heavy sacks of grain and crops.

‘It must takes hours.’

Caeria gave a clucking laugh, ‘It takes an army to feed an army.’

It certainly did, Nesta realised. Many of the females who’d been involved with breakfast were the earliest risers of the camp. However, once they had cleaned up the many dishes, they departed for the day, their job done. Caeria explained how Cassian had changed things. All had to work for the benefit of the camp although it was only a few hours per day then they were free to take care of their homes or engage in other pursuits. A new set of workers arrived after breakfast had been eaten to assist with the lunch preparations then another group would come for dinner. They worked for three days then had a day of rest.

‘And do you have any choice in what you do?’ Nesta flexed her fingers which were stiff from clutching a knife. She was slower to peel the squashes with their thick skins and for everyone that she managed, Caeria had peeled two.

‘Mostly, it’s the way it has always been. Females clean and cook within the camp while males train. We also prepare clothing and take care of the children. The males have additional work – they must take care of the fields and the forges.’ Caeria offered her a brief smile. ‘Instead of trying to survive, we all work together now. These meals are provided free of coin, but to eat then we must help to plough the fields, to harvest the crops, to tend to the animals and tan leathers.’

She was fascinated by it. She was led to believe that Illyrians were purely violent with their only instinct being to fight. There was a heavy emphasis on agriculture here and everybody contributing to a flourishing society.

‘And the males enjoy this change?’

Caeria gave a slow nod. ‘Change has been slow, but it has happened. They work differently to us. Either they have morning duties then train after lunch or vice versa. Younger members of the camp train less, but apprentice in every area of the camp. Blacksmithing is popular in the winter for its warmth – and this tent for cooking. You will find that even on rest days, many of us still come to help where needed. Many hands make light work, Nesta.’

The pace of cooking was quicker than Nesta could truly manage so she felt as if she was treading water and trying to keep from drowning. Her headache remained pulsing quietly in her forehead and only when she grew dizzy did Caeria order her to sit and drink. She felt guilty to not offer any more help, but she was more of a hindrance. Food was given to her – a plate of squash and lentil dhal with half a flatbread – which she forced upon her aching stomach.

When they began cleaning the dishes, more arrived ready to prepare the evening meal. It was a machine that never slowed. Caeria rubbed a hand against Nesta’s back and prompted her on towards the big house.

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect inside, but a sudden onslaught of screaming and laughter was not it. Children barrelled down corridors or flew over her head. Some were hardly more than toddlers, but others were on the cusp of adulthood.

‘What is this place?’

‘A home for waifs and strays,’ announced Cassian as he waded towards them through the mass of children.

Caeria asked, ‘Lunch went down well?’

Cassian spread out his hands in answer. ‘Very well. Thank you for taking care of my wife.’

She bid them goodbye then Cassian slipped an arm around Nesta’s shoulders. She quickly threw it off, anger flaring in her chest. With food in her belly, Nesta wanted to return to the tent and sleep. Her night spent shivering was catching up to her now.

Cassian led the way up the stairs to the top floor where there were many beds organised in rows. Nesta counted thirty of them. A few girls sat on the beds talking and quickly fell into silence at their approach.

‘The girls room,’ he said, before dipping his head to them and leading Nesta down another set of stairs. This room had less beds but there were wooden toys and even a few woven baskets for babies. ‘This for the littlest ones. Those two beds in the corners are for females who sleep in the room with them.’

His hand pushed gently against her shoulder blades as they arrived back to the ground floor, but Cassian wasn’t done. They went beneath the ground where there were even more beds prepared. At his approach, the boys in the room hurriedly got to their feet as a mark of respect. There were only a few windows that allowed light in, but there seemed to be nowhere else in the house to keep them.

Before Cassian could speak, a boy flew across the room and latched his arms around Nesta’s waist.

‘Fedor,’ she breathed, a hand stroking through his dark hair.

A bell tolled through the house and the boys scarpered from the room. Fedor gave her a last squeeze then he was on his way too.

‘Where are they going?’

Cassian stroked her hair before Nesta could slap his massive hand away. ‘They live here permanently. These are the children without parents. We keep the boys and girls as far away from each other as possible and there are overnight duties here. In the last decade, there have been fewer arrivals from this camp – but we’ve had more from other camps like Fedor.’

He led her back towards the staircase and she asked, ‘What do they do here?’

‘They have lessons. The same for boys and girls. Sewing and tanning. Helping Caeria with the cooking. The boys love to show how strong they are and carry the crops from the fields to her.’ The hand on her back was hot. ‘And that leads me to this.’

Nesta entered a room where around forty pairs of eyes were staring at her. Boys and girls were sat on benches at long tables with crumbs from lunch underneath them on the floor. The voices of younger children echoed through the halls as her group remained staring.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Nesta whispered.

‘Teach them,’ he said simply. ‘Figure out what you need moving forward and we’ll make a plan. I’ll come back when it’s dark to escort you through camp.’ Cassian pointed a warning finger at the class. ‘Be good. My wife will tell me who has been the best.’

They all sat a little straighter on the benches, peering at her like a curiosity.

***

The hours whittled away quickly. Ruling was difficult for Cassian. Mostly he made it up as he went along and pretended that it was all part of his greater plan. When he trained, that was different. Time would speed up in those moments. Nothing felt more natural than a blade in his hands, the thrum of battle in his blood.

It was dark when he rushed to the big house for Nesta. The children were already deep into their dinner, the noise unbearable for long. But he was happy to see laughter on their faces. They would never know the struggles that he did. Twelve females oversaw the house, taking it in turns to be there during the days or night. They cared for the babies as if they were their own. Many of them had either lost their children or had never been able to experience carrying their own. More than a roof or food, these children experienced love. That would change their lives.

‘Where is my wonderful wife?’

Face taut, Nesta sat beside a window on the stairwell. He wouldn’t let her go to the tent until she’d sat and eaten. She forced in the mouthfuls with a bitter expression upon her face which he couldn’t tell was from the taste or directed at him. He did have the sense that a storm was coming for him.

Back in their tent, Cassian lit a fire in the brazier to chase away the edge of night then leant against the desk. ‘How was your day, my darling?’

‘Don’t give me that,’ she warned, brows raised.

‘I thought you’d like it. You seemed to enjoy Fedor’s company last time you were in Windhaven.’

‘You threw me in that room with all of those children staring at me, Cassian. I was completely unprepared and out of my depth.’

He frowned. ‘You can read and write, can’t you?’

Nesta made a choking noise. ‘And you expected me to teach forty of them with no parchment, no ink, no blackboard, no preparation. Some of them only speak Illyrian, did you know that? Do you know how humiliating it was to stand there with them gawping at me. All day long, I’ve been told to do this, do that, with no sensitivity to what I might want, to how I might feel.’

‘Nesta, what I-’

‘Do not interrupt me. I haven’t finished,’ she pressed on, voice rising. Cassian waited silently for her to continue. ‘Every choice is taken from me. In my life before, in Velaris, and now. Do you think I wanted faeries to come into my life and ruin it? Do you think I wanted to be forced into the Cauldron where I was broken and burnt until I became this… this monstrosity. Nobody has taught me about this magic writhing inside me. Nobody bothered to tell me how my life will change. And now this. You. My choice has been taken from me again. And this. This is my eternity? Forced to be at your side? Under your command? I didn’t choose this.’

The words were agony for her, he could tell from the tremble in her body, the pain flaring in her silver eyes.

‘The Mother decides,’ he said softly.

Cassian hadn’t ever expected to find a mate. Mating bonds were so rare and only ever occurred for an Illyrian with a high fae who would never look twice at them. And this female was so different to the others. So full of fire and pain.

‘The Mother?’ Nesta’s voice pitched even higher. ‘I am to believe in a deity that has never existed for me before. And why? What do I have to believe in? You are the one who dragged me to Illyria, not a make-believe figure.’

A pain like an arrow lanced through Cassian’s heart with the realisation. His voice was a whisper, as he said, ‘You don’t feel it.’

Cassian braced his hand upon the desk to keep from staggering. Only he had felt their bond snap. Nesta wasn’t arguing with him or throwing insults his way because she was playing hard to get. No, she was genuine because she didn’t feel the bond. The bond that Cassian had though about minute after minute since it snapped. The bond that had filled him with such joy.

He felt sick with himself. He had bargained for her like cattle, believing it was the only way for them to carve time together and accept the bond. No, to Nesta, he was an Illyrian brute, the same as all the others who had demanded a bride and she was the casualty. She was scared of him. The trembling last night hadn’t been in excitement over their marriage, no she was terrified of what he’d do to her – that he’d be the brute all Illyrians were.

Even now, with all of her words laid out in the open, Nesta seemed to shrink back from him. Her arms covered her body, shoulders curling inwards as if she was about to cower from his anger.

In silence, Cassian departed into the dark.

[onyourj-uls]

could you pls do yushi as a boyfriend pls? 🥺🙏

hi anon! thank you for your request and omg, ofc, i love yushi <3 me the happiest to write nct stuff 💚

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ yushi as a boyfriend

if yushi were your boyfriend, get ready for a relationship full of laughter, sweetness, and unforgettable moments. from his playful way of teasing you to those moments when his more caring and protective side comes out, he would make every day with him special.

꩜ thoughtful without even trying

yushi is the kind of boyfriend who seems like he’s not paying much attention, but in reality, he remembers everything. did you mention once that you love a specific dessert? the next time you go out, he’ll suddenly pull out a bag of that same sweet and casually say:

"oh, i saw it and thought of you." as if he doesn’t know he just made you melt.

꩜ playful and fun

he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh. whether it’s with silly impressions, bad jokes, or just teasing you affectionately, his goal is to see that smile on your face. he loves to mess with you, like hiding behind a door to scare you or calling you a random nickname just to see your reaction.

if you like video games, he’ll be the perfect gaming partner. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad, he’ll make every match fun. and if you lose, he’ll tease you with a smirk and say:

"want me to teach you?" (😼) while looking at you with that mischievous smile you can’t resist.

꩜ spontaneous dates and unforgettable moments.

he’s not the type to plan every detail in advance. instead, he’ll surprise you with last-minute plans that turn out to be the best memories. a simple walk can become an adventure because, suddenly, he decides to take you to a beautiful place he discovered or buy desserts from a hidden café.

he loves being on the move, but he also cherishes quiet moments. if one day you both just want to stay in, he’ll cuddle up with you on the couch, wrap his arms around you, and watch movies while shamelessly stealing your popcorn.

꩜ lots of skinship and sincere affection

When he’s comfortable, Yushi is all about physical touch. No matter where you are, he’ll always find a way to be close—holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, or resting his head on your shoulder when he’s tired.

If you’re with others, he’ll do little things like brushing his fingers against yours or playing with the sleeves of your sweater. But if you’re alone… well, that’s when the affection becomes more obvious: long hugs, spontaneous kisses, and that intense gaze that makes you forget everything else.

꩜ protective, but not overbearing.

he’s not overly jealous, but if someone crosses the line with you, his entire demeanor changes. he’ll go from being the chill guy to someone with a serious gaze and a more assertive posture. he won’t make a scene, but he’ll make sure everyone knows you’re with him.

if you’re feeling sad or worried, instead of pressuring you, he’ll give you space while making sure you know he’s there for you. a simple:

"If you need to talk, just tell me, okay?" will be enough to make you feel safe with him.

꩜ your number one fan.

no matter what you do, to yushi, you’re the best in the world. if you get dressed up, he’ll stare at you in awe before saying something like:

"how do you always look this pretty?" (😭😭😭)

if you’re working on something, he’ll hype you up with:

"you’re going to do amazing, i just know it."

and if you achieve something, he’ll hug you excitedly and tell you how proud he is of you.

even in the simplest moments, he’ll look at you with that soft expression, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

꩜ spicy touch.

even though he has that laid-back and sweet image, when the situation calls for it, yushi can completely catch you off guard. yhere’s something about the way his voice drops when he whispers in your ear, the way his fingers trace the edge of your clothes slowly, savoring every reaction you give him.

kissing him starts off slow and playful, but once he gets carried away, his intensity shifts. His hands explore your back with more firmness, pulling you closer, while his breath against your skin makes you lose all sense of time.

and the worst (or best) part? he knows exactly what he’s doing. that little smirk after seeing you flustered, the way he murmurs in a husky voice:

"what’s wrong? can’t handle this?"… (AaaaAaAaAaaaaaaAaaa😵‍💫😵‍💫)

and at that moment, you realize that, even though he acts innocent, yushi is far more dangerous than he seems.

🌼 yushi would be the kind of boyfriend who balances sweetness and intensity perfectly. he can be playful and chill, but when he wants to, he’ll make you feel like you’re the only person in his world♡

i had a lot of fun writing this! hope u like it<3

[exormilion]

vermilion tenderness

abby anderson/reader

word count: 4,144

summary: abby makes your endometriosis a bit more bearable. period comfort, non sexual nudity and intimacy.

note: i suffer a lot with my periods and decided to really write something endo-related cuz i think we deserve sum love and care <3 hope you like it :D

link to ao3

─୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ─

You were used to it by now.

Okay, well, maybe ‘used’ wasn't the right word when you were curled in bed with tears in your eyes and head pounding while you curled your arms around your belly, desperate for relief, but you already knew how it went.

This agony never had an end, all you could do was survive through it.

When you first arrived at the WLF, you did your best to keep it down. You were weak, this place was all you had now and you tried your damn best not to seem useless, a waste of resource, pushing past limits that had you sobbing quietly into your pillow at night, trying not to bother your past roomate.

It all went down the drain when you passed out during patrol, the warm day piling up with the cramps and the dizziness and you just faceplanted the soft grass, the sudden silence weirdly comforting and when you finally opened your eyes, strong arms held you sitted and supported your head, a woman with beautiful light eyes and angelic dark blonde hair and-

“Abby?”, you ask, mortified, finally coming back to yourself. You barely talked to the woman, too intimidated by her build, fame and friends, the popularity around her name was enough to keep you away. Her eyebrows were furrowed, face tense as she scanned you for any bruise. Eyeing around, you were glad it was at least the two of you, the other people patrolling far enough not to hear or see your embarrassing moment.

“What happened? Are you okay?”, she looks at your face, putting her palm on your sweaty, strangely cold skin, “You’re pale, have you eaten?”

Yeah, you have. You just had to make a quick stop to throw up until you were dry retching before the patrol, the nausea so intense you were praying you wouldn’t vomit bile on the car, eyes strained to your boots as you clutched your gun to your chest, breathing through your mouth and swallowing thickly.

“No, i- It’s fine. I tripped. Sorry.”, muttering, you tried your best to get away from her grasp, dying from embarrassment. She respected that but stayed kneeled on the floor next to you, curious.

“Tripped? Yeah, sure. On grass.”, her eyes studied around for the colleagues, and after making sure you were still alone and safe, she took her backpack from her back and looked for something inside.

You just sat there, still dizzy, feeling your fingers tingling and vision splotchy. It wasn’t worth trying to stay composed, she found you dropped to the floor like a brick and the damage was alredy done.

You blink when she offers you something - a silver package, and you look up at her in confusion.

“Food. Take a bite, looks like you need it”, she nudges your hand with it, expectantly.

You felt like crying. Just the idea of eating made you want to vomit, but the care in the act was enough to make you hold it down. Nodding, you take the wrap, opening the sandwich and taking a piece of the bread with your hand, chewing almost painfully on the bite.

“Thanks”, you swallow, your upset stomach alredy churning but you did your beat to swallow another two pieces before giving it back to her, wrapped carefully. She didn't comment on your lack of enthusiasm about food.

“No problem”, she puts the sandwich inside her bag again, still curious about your state. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod, fixing your backpack and taking your gun from where it was dropped, getting up slowly on shaky legs.

Able to walk again like a baby deer, you went back to patrol. You could feel Abby now following around and you couldn't even be mad about it - despite the embarrassment, it was somehow comforting to know that she would still look after you, even if you were pulling the team down.

The real shame would crawl inside your guts later, getting out of the truck. You both were the last to leave the trunk, Abby offering a hand to help with the big step and you could cry from how thankful you felt, the cramps down to your thighs and knees made the simple act seem like a mile run. Your feet hit the floor, you’re glad the truck ride is over, hands clutching your backpack strips anxiously.

“Oh, wait-”, she holds your wrist to hold you from leaving and told the other colleagues to go ahead as she wanted to talk to you. You were tired, in pain and now so anxious about the talk that you could faint all over again. “You… could have told me it was your period, you know? I know we barely talked, but i know it can be hard”

You swallow, face heating up. She looked shy about the topic and for someone her size she was extremely sensitive.

“How do you-”

Gasping, the awareness hits you. Did you leak? The uncomfortable warmth and stickiness between your legs couldn't have gone past the pad, right?

“Hey, it’s alright. Look, i can walk you to your room, i’m sure no one noticed it”, patting your shoulder gently, she nods her head, “It scared me, seing you unconscious like that. Come on, you could use some rest.”

The walk to your room was a bit awkward, Abby doing her best to shield the blood from behind your pants while you fidget with your thumbs till you were standing in front of your room, pondering what to do now.

“There you go. You should take a shower and rest for a bit”, another minute of silence follows before she speaks again, “Is it… always this bad? Your periods?”

“Yeah, it is”, Abby frowned at your answer. That wasn't normal, was it? “I’m used to it, it just gets worse from time to time”

“To the point you pass out?”

“Well, sometimes-”

“Have you talked to Nora?”

You haven’t, and you didn’t plan to - that was until Abby forced you to see the woman a few days after that talk, with a pang in her heart since you were still in terrible pain and bleeding but it would probably be for the better if Nora could see and understand how you were feeling.

Abby didn’t know why, but she was worried sick about you. When you first arrived, hurt, alone and nervously curled into yourself, she didn’t think much of it. She said a few words to you here and there, nothing that justified her need to take care of you but that was just how Abby was. She cared.

Nora asked you a feel questions, felt your bloated belly with the tips of her fingers (apologizing when you hissed and tensed but she wanted to understand the issue) while Abby sat on a stool by the exit of the closed tent, looking down at her hands respectfully but listening carefully.

“We don’t have much left about gynecology, the few books i managed to put my hands in wasn’t near enough…”, Nora helps you sit up on the gurney. She was pretty nice, you liked her - even if it was only because of Abby, not a lot of people validated your pain. “But there is this one condition called endometriosis and from what you’ve told me, it’s very fitting with your symptoms”

Abby perked up on her sit, looking curiously at her friend while she explained briefly how it worked. The conclusion made your shoulders sag and the blonde tense up.

“So there’s nothing to do about it?”, reluctantly she asked, sitting straight on the stool.

“There was never much study about it before the outbreak, so nothing is clear… i’m sorry”, Nora squeezes your shoulder, sighing. “The best you can do is always try to eat a bit to help with the dizziness, even when you’re nauseous, and stay hydrated. I mean very hydrated, as much as you can, you lose too much blood and throwing up as well… not good”

Great. Now that was a way of living.

“And”, she walks to her desk and takes a heavy green bag, preparing to leave. Nora never stayed at the same place for more than ten minutes - it was not easy to be a medic, “I’ll try to separate some meds and hygiene products that arrive to this wing when i can. It’s the best i can do. Sorry, i have to go, need to tend some guys that found a group of scars on patrol. Take care.”

She gave you a small smile and a nod, moving to the door. You heard her mutter a ‘look after her, hm?’ to Abby before disappearing from the medical tent, leaving behind your disappointed and tired self and the buff woman sitting awkwardly on the stool.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you kick your feet from where you where sitting on the gurney, getting up with a grunt. You look at Abby who got up as stepped closer and your tongue worked before you could think about it.

“Why… exactly are you doing this? You don’t have to waste your time, i won’t hold you guys behind”, eyes finding the floor when you notice her approach, you almost jump out of your skin when her rough palm finds your forearm, trying to get your attention.

“That’s not what i worry about, i’m worried about you”, that makes you huff and glare at her.

“Why would you worry about me?”, you laugh, rubbing your eyes. You were in so much pain that your thoughts were cloudy and you just wanted to scream and cry and turn into a little ball. “I just got here a few months ago, you barely know me… what do you want from me?”

She took your wrists in her hands, holding your hand away from your face so she could look right into your eyes when she talked to you.

“I don’t want anything, i just want you to feel a little better. That’s all.” her cheeks got a cute shade of pink as she thought about her words “I told you before, but i got really worried when i saw you passed out on patrol that day. I’m sorry if it’s making you uncomfortable, it wasn't my intention to suffocate you, i just… i can’t shake this feeling off”

Two weeks after that, you pulled her into a kiss.

She was teaching you how to shoot - you knew your way with a pistol, but bigger guns were still a work in progress and Abby was happy to give you a bit of her knowledge when period was over and the cramps lingering wasn’t nearly as bad as before.

Shotguns were scary, you quickly find out, the earmuffs did nothing to cover up the sound and by the time Abby put the thing in your hands, you could hear a ringing noise echoing.

“... got it?”

You didn’t, but you weren’t weak.

Holding the gun up like she did - or almost, as she brought one hand to your scapula and the other to your elbow, the booth tiny enough that she was almost pressed to you. Even with the earmuffs, you felt her voice deep in your ears.

“There we go. Keep your stance firm and you’re good.”

“Okay…”

You were definitely not as firm as you should, distracted by her. The recoil made the gun slam on your shoulder and almost hit your face, nothing much happened but the scare made you let out a yelp and widen your eyes.

“You okay?”, she laughed but eyed you with concern, taking off her earmuffs. “Recoil is the worst part, but you did well.”

The gun was put on the little desk as well as both earmuffs, you lean your hips against it to look at her, heart still strong on your chest.

“M good, just scared me. Should probably stick to a pistol till i get the grip, though”, you laughed too.

The smell of gunpowder was grounding, Abby smelled like gunpowder most of the time and you got used to it pretty quickly.

You got used to Abby pretty quickly - not only that but the hope of spending time with her lingered, specially when she checked on you everyday, asking about your pain and bringing you food when you felt bad enough not to go to the cafeteria. No one has ever shown this amount of care for you.

“You’ll learn quick, you’re doing well”, she walked closer to you on the table to unload the gun, your eyes attentive to her experienced hands as she did.

She was so kind to you. You wondered what you have done to possibly deserve a woman like that willingly wanting to make you feel better and caring for you, it made your heart clench on your chest.

“Mhm, i have a great professor”, tilting your head to the side, you notice how her hands falter on the gun and a stupid little smile finds her lips. She glances at you, something you didn’t know shining in her eyes.

“Oh? Should i be concerned about this professor of yours taking my teaching spot?”

Fuck.

“Hmmm, dunno. She’s really great…”

She completely abandoned the gun, crossing her arms over her chest with her head tilted as she stared into your face. Her forearms looked specially beefy and veiny when she did so, her usual thank top leaving nothing to imagination.

“I’ll go after this teacher of yous, tell her to be careful… no one steals my student like that”

You know what? Fuck this.

Wasn’t worth overthinking about this, specially not when Abby’s lips were so incredibly soft and her big body fit so comfortably against yours, her arms hugging you closer and making you feel tiny and safe. You weren’t able to spend a single day without her lips after that.

But that was months ago, and now you were sad and lonely and in indescribable pain inside yours and Abby’s room, a few desolated tears running down your face.

Your gut was telling you about something being off for a few days, but you were almost always in pain so it didn’t mean much until you woke up in the middle of the night in unbearable pain and raw red blood almost pooling under you. Abby woke with your movements and let out a compassionate hiss, arms dropping from your waist as she got up to help you to the bathroom. She was a blessed human.

Now, hours later, the bloodied sheets were gone, a washed out green one taking its place and the matress stained. Abby had to leave you to do something with someone - you didn’t know, you were so deep in pain when she talked that you just stared at her pretty face and nodded until she left with a kiss on the tip of your nose and another on your lips, saying she’d be back soon and wishing you better.

Not able to do anything but sulk, you stayed there. You got up twice the whole day, both to go to the bathroom and change the overfilling pads and pee painfully, quickly back to the cocoon on the bed and miraculously falling asleep.

It was restless and deep, somehow. You woke up feeling like you were ran over but the sun was alredy setting in the distance so it was a very long nap, enough for Abby to be back and sat by the end of the bed with a book in hand, the other gently gripping at your foot as she read.

Always the physical contact lover.

“Hey”, your voice was hoarse, breaking. She immediately closed the book and scooched closer to your head, laying next to you to put her face closer to yours.

“Hey, baby”, the kiss she gave your forehead felt almost healing, but maybe that was just her presence. “Still that bad?”

“Yeah, not good”, rasping out, you bury your face on her chest. She showered, smelled clean and so Abby, and you wished you could’ve showered with her. “Could've woken me… when you got back”

“You looked so tired even in your sleep, didn’t have the heart to bother your rest”, her arms wrapped around you, one of her hands slipping under your shirt to rub your lower back. It was a bad cramping spot but her hands always soothed you, even if just a tiny bit.

“Hm, but i wanna be with you…”

“I’m with you now, baby. Don’t worry”, she cooed, pressing you closer to her chest. “Did you eat anything today?”

The answer was a shake of your head. She expected that and didn’t pry, instead putting you delicately back in bed (she had to kiss you a few times and whisper against your mouth that she was not leaving and just needed to get something until you released her shirt) and finding her bag on the couch. You looked at her with half lidded eyes, a déja-vu hitting you when she took a wrapping and walked back to bed, sitting on the edge.

“Abby”, you whine, turning to the other side and pulling the comforter to your ears, “Don’t wanna eat, i’ll just throw it all up. It’s useless.”

Always so patient with you, she pulled the comforter down, getting your ear between her thumb and pointer and squeezing just a bit.

“I know you get sick, baby. I’ll never understand how it feels but i see how bad it gets and i hate seeing you like that. I’d never do this if it wasn’t for your own good.”, she cupped your cheek and turned your face in her direction, caressing your skin, “But the more you stay without eating the sicker you’ll get, and you can’t go without food forever. Please, just a bite? Just one?”

You hate her stupid puppy eyes and how they always work.

With her help, you sit up in bed. She moves to stay behind you and pulls your back against her chest, not minding your disgustingly sweaty shirt and clammy skin.

“I don’t wanna eat”, your murmur was almost tearful as you watched her open the burrito wrap, turning your face away against her arm to get away from the smell.

“Baby”, she cups your face with her free hand to look at you from an awkward angle thanks to the position you both sat on, concerned eyes finding yours with care. “Hey. I promise i won’t make you eat more than one bite, but you need to have a little something to eat today. I can’t even give you any meds if your stomach is this empty, ‘s not good for you.”

You held your breath while you chewed the damn thing to hide the taste and swallowed hard. You pushed the wrap back into her hand and sighed, gripping her thigh with discomfort.

“Hate this.”

“I know, baby, i hate it too”, she pecked your shoulder, leaving the food somewhere behind her on the bed. “What do you think about a warm shower?”

“Sounds heavenly, actually”, leaning your head back against her shoulder when you were sure the food wasn’t coming up again, you look at her through your lashes. “I know you already showered but can you help me?”

“Of course i can”, she gets up and takes you in her arms, one hand behind your knees and the other on your lower back, the walk to the bathroom was nothing to her while she held your weight.

“You didn’t have to carry me, you know”, you laugh, kissing her cheek before she put you sat on the toilet lid.

“I wanted to”, booped your nose, stretching her arm inside the shower to turn the hot water on. “Isn’t that the whole reason i work out? To carry my girlfriend anywhere she needs me to?”

“Mhm, that’s right. Work it, Anderson”

She helped you undress, your hand never leaving her shoulder since your dizziness has been a pain in the ass. Abby was completely unbothered by your blood and all the disgusting things surrounding this - she loved taking care of you, this would never be enough to push her away. Taking advantage of the fact she was crouched in front of you, a gentle kiss was given to your bloated lower belly, right under your bellybutton.

“I saw the dogs today. Helped Mel with the cleaning, Bear licked my entire face”, she got up and kicked her own clothes off. Her hands were gentle when she tied your hair away from your face and neck, not wanting to get it wet as it was already pretty late. By the time you had the spray of hot water on your back, blood dripped down your legs, turning the puddle under your feet a nasty orange color. She didn’t care, just found the soap and started washing your body. “Alice was Alice, always with that purple octopus she likes so much. They are just like little kids.”

“I love them so much”, you sigh, dropping your forehead on her shoulder. Being skin to skin with Abby made everything better - she was always so warm, so incredibly soft despite the muscles. You wish you could turn smaller to curl into a little ball and sleep on her tummy, like a cat.

“I love you”, her hands bring soap to your neck, rubbing the tender spots with the tips of fingers.

“Love you more”

She washed every inch of your skin with extreme care. Under your arms, your chest, belly, legs and feet, between your legs and, lastly, your face. She gathered soap on the tip of her fingers and massaged your cheeks, mindful of your eyes, your arms hugging her waist while she did so.

“Skin is so soft”, mutters her loving voice, brushing the bubbles from your face with her wet hand. She didn’t shower again, having undressed only to keep her clothes dry, working quick for a fast but calming shower, aware of the fact you only needed the bed and rest in moments like this.

Making sure you were stabilized and snuggled up with a towel, she left the bathroom just for a minute to look for a pair of panties. You’d both normally sleep naked with every inch of skin glued together - why she didn’t dress up again -, so your only coverage was the underwear with the pad safely stuck inside (bless Nora for actually saving a few for you) that Abby pulled carefully up your legs.

“Thanks, Abs. For all of this”, you put your towel back on the hook, suddenly fatigued all over again.

“Don’t thank me, baby. You know I love being able to take care of you”

Then you found yourself in bed again, heavy covers over your body and tangled with Abby. You laid on your belly (somehow, the pressure of the mattress on your belly helped a lot), Abby cuddled to your side with her cheek pressed on your shoulder and her arm resting on your lower back, caressing the skin from the side of your body with her rough fingers.

Always warm, always gentle. You never got tired of surprising yourself with how soft she could be.

You could feel her breast pressed against your arm and back, deep breathing pressing it harder into your skin and her heartbeat was strong, just like her heart. Selfless, big, pulsing hard inside that body but not for her own sake, never just that.

You turn to your side, getting face to face with her. Your whole body ached, the cramps were slowly creeping up your spine but nothing seemed as bad when her beautifully shiny eyes stared at you like you were the sun, even when you were in pain and insufferable.

One of your hands finds that little spot in the middle of her chest, feeling her heart in your palm. You wished you could cradle her pretty heart in your arms and tend to every little pain caused to it.

“Really, Abigail. I love you so, so much. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

And her smile. The way her cheeks went up and her cute little freckles moved with her skin, a little more apparent thanks to the summer sun, her eyes just a little squinted and always looking at you, her pouty lips pulled into the most beautiful and warm smile to ever exist.

The menstrual hormones were killing you. You wanted to bawl your eyes out every time you looked at your own girlfriend.

“There is nothing in this world I would rather do instead of taking care of you, baby. I love you more than anything and it means everything to me”, she kisses your lips, softly, and pulls you closer. “Now rest. Let’s sleep a bit of this pain away.”

[supernaturallyedsheeran]

Can't Lose you

Summary: After a close call leaves you hurt, Sam tends to your wounds, his worry growing as he realizes how much danger you’ve been in with him. In a moment of frustration, he confesses his feelings, and you promise him you’re not going anywhere. cw : fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, typical injury and blood, no use of y/n, characters: Sam Winchester, f!reader wc: 621 famdom: Supernatural

✧∘* ✧･ﾟ✨Masterlist ✨✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

The Impala's tires screeched as it pulled into the motel parking lot. You stumbled to open the door, your legs shaky, blood trickling from the gash on your forehead.

Sam was already out of the car around to your side and opening the door, bending down your level; his eyes immediately locking onto the blood. “Hey, easy. You okay?” he asked, his voice low, full of concern.

You didn’t have the strength to explain the pounding searing hot pain that ate at your skin. “I’ll be fine,” you mumbled, swaying slightly.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He didn’t buy it. “Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.” His tone was sharper than usual.

You nodded, sinking onto the passenger seat. Your head felt light, but you fought to stay awake. Sam was back in a minute, kneeling in front of you, his eyes softening as he saw the extent of your injuries.

"Don’t move," he ordered, voice tight as he pulled out antiseptic and gauze.

You winced when he dabbed alcohol on your wound. “Sorry,” he murmured, glancing at you. “Just a sec.”

You swallowed your discomfort. “It’s fine, Sam. Just a scratch.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, his voice a little too sharp. He gripped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt.”

You frowned, brushing his hand away. “Sam, I said I’m fine.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and stood up staring down at you, pathetically perched at the edge of the seat still inside the car. “You’re not fine,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. "You’re human, and I can’t keep watching you put yourself in danger like this. I can’t do it anymore.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Sam…”

“You’re reckless,” he bit out, turning back to you. “Every damn time we go on a hunt, you throw yourself into the fire like it doesn’t matter. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Not if I’m going to keep losing you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Sam… What are you—”

“I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care if I die tomorrow. But you? You…” He took a breath, his voice shaking now. “I can’t lose you, you hear me?”

Your stomach dropped. “Sam…?”

“I love you,” he said quickly, like the words were forced out of him. “I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter. I need you to be safe. I need you here. I—" His voice cracked, and he stopped, looking down.

The weight of it hit you. You felt everything, all at once. “Sam…” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to say it like this. But I can't keep watching you put yourself at risk. I can’t lose you.”

You grabbed his hands, pulling them to your thighs. “Sam, I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice muffled as you fought against the lump in your throat.

He pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you up and out of the car, his face buried in your hair. "I can't lose you," he repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less desperate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised again, holding him just as tightly, your fingers curling into his shirt, the blood from your forehead staining the front of his shirt.

You both stood there for a time, the impala door open, the dim interior light flickering against your silhouette, Sam's chin resting on your head, your wound drying on his shirt. In that moment, you knew Sam would never let you fall into trouble again, but he would also never let you leave his sight.

[baestruly]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ dating ━━ bellamy blake

⋆˙⟡ SO protective but not jaring

⋆˙⟡ he’s always asking how you are

⋆˙⟡ ❝good, princess?❞ 

⋆˙⟡ if you ever get hurt, he will never leave your side and will always be touching you in some way whether thats your hand or your head, he’s softly running his thumb up and down to comfort you

⋆˙⟡ ❝i’m so sorry this happened to you.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝if i could i would do anything to make your pain stop, princess, i’m sorry.” 

⋆˙⟡ he’s so jsjfjffdjfjgjf

⋆˙⟡ the biceps guys. 

⋆˙⟡ so ofc he’s gonna catch you staring whether thats if he’s doing absolutely nothing or training

⋆˙⟡ ❝like what you see, princess?❞ 

⋆˙⟡ he loves to see you get flustered so he’ll either keep asking you what you like so much or he’ll walk up slowly to you to kiss you (if you’re in private things will def escalate) 

⋆˙⟡ okay, he will literally watch you so closely all the time, especially when you’re in a hostile situation. yeah he looks around the area to make sure it’s safe first but after that his eyes burn into you to make sure you’re always okay or safe

⋆˙⟡ he just admires you so much 

⋆˙⟡ for example, if you were reading or drawing he will stare at you with the smallest softest smile ever 

⋆˙⟡ because he just loves you so much and can’t imagine ever loosing you

⋆˙⟡ ❝i can feel your stare, bell.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝too pretty to not look at.❞ 

⋆˙⟡ or he’ll just laugh and tuck strands of hair behind your ear 

⋆˙⟡ if you ask to train with him he will gladly agree 

⋆˙⟡ only because he knows he could always get the upper hand—but he never doubts you, he knows you could probably beat his ass but he knows all your weaknesses (he just knows you so well) 

⋆˙⟡ ❝bell, you don’t have to go easy on me.❞ 

⋆˙⟡ ❝is that right?❞ 

⋆˙⟡ he smirks when he beats you, pinning you to the ground gentle enough to not hurt you 

⋆˙⟡ sometimes he gets carried away that you get the upper hand 

⋆˙⟡ ❝i could get used to seeing you on top of m—❞

⋆˙⟡ you slap him lightly as you laugh 

⋆˙⟡ he doesn’t get CRAZY jealous — he knows you would never do anything to hurt him. but he does just get annoyed and becomes to you, adorably angry

⋆˙⟡ he’ll prob also be side eying who ever he’s jealous of

⋆˙⟡ ❝why are you pouting oh my god—❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝i’m not pouting.❞ 

⋆˙⟡ ❝is this because i was talking to the really handsome, lovely—❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝okay, enough.❞ 

⋆˙⟡ after s2 and the events at mount weather, you guys help each other through dark times

⋆˙⟡ at night, he's always the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you

⋆˙⟡ his way of trying to let you know you're safe, even if you get any nightmares, he will be there by your side in an instant

⋆˙⟡ will whisper sweet things into your ear and run his hand softly down your arm and hair until you can go back to sleep

⋆˙⟡ ofc he comes across as arrogant and scary to everyone but with you he just softens up sm

⋆˙⟡ he's super goal oriented and determined so if there's a way he can do something on his own (outside of camp) without you being at risk, 100% he's gonna do it

⋆˙⟡ he will not tolerate you ever talking bad about yourself he absolutely hates it because you're the most amazing person in the world to him

⋆˙⟡ will literally sit you down and start having this deep conversation about how much he values you and all the ways you shouldn't think that about yourself. he will always be there to support you

⋆˙⟡ knows how badass you are but swoops in when you need him

⋆˙⟡ he would be watching you in training beating someones ass and he's just off to the side, his arms crossed as he smirks at you

⋆˙⟡ he's just a proud bf !!

masterlist / bellamy blake masterlist

[mingoooossii]

Can you do both headcanons for park yoon ho and pi hyun wool? Thank you so much!

P. Han Ul and L. Hyeon Woo headcanons.

Kdrama: Study group

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, minor webtoon spoilers??(not that serious actually), might be a bit ooc

A/n: I'm not a fan of han ul AT all but woomin did it so well 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ I feel like a bit of kyungjun also came in??(Somehow)and Hyeon woo's character was kind of hard to grasp but i hope this is what you've been looking for anonie<33

Words: 692

Requested ♡

｡⁠*ﾟPi Han Ul.

• he wasn't really the one for relationships until he met you

• it isn't really logical considering his situation but he couldn't help it

• you managed to worm your way into his heart despite all the walls he put up

• at that point, i think he'd trust you enough to let that happen

• you're the only person he genuinely has a soft spot for, aside from his sister

• this also means that he'd be protective

• his sister would be fond of you and that just makes him instantly more inclined to ‘protect’ you

• he just wants to make sure that you'd be safe even if that means keeping you as a secret from his dad (and Minhwan but 🤷‍♀️)

• not really the affectionate type

• and because of his situation, he can be kind of closed of at times

• like don't expect him to be that open about his feelings

• he's just not used to it :( (this doesn't mean he loves you any less though)

• you'd be the one initiating physical contact most of the time but he does have his moments

• he likes laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair

• it helps him calm down and helps him go to sleep whenever he's having trouble

• i can also imagine him having a teasing side??

• he'd be very subtle with it though (a menace actually)

• but you'll know once you see his slight smirk

• kind of a jealous type but he wouldn't show it

• 100% the type to send silent death glares when he's annoyed

• but I can also see him being a bit cocky??

• not exactly in a ‘I’m better than you’ way but more like a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of way (hope that made sense 😭)

• so expect a snide comment or two

• but if he sees that you're uncomfortable with the other person, he will be taking action

• he’s definitely not the type to let things slide

｡⁠*ﾟLee Hyeon Woo.

• it takes him a while to accept that he had feelings for you

• once he does he'll be more open about it

• loves teasing you (that's his love lang basically)

• but he makes sure to not take it too far (actually hurting you is the last thing he wants to do)

• he's protective too.

• because him teasing you is one thing but when someone else does it??

• now that pisses him off.

• would not hesitate to throw hands if someone made you uncomfortable in anyway

• he's the jealous type but not overbearingly so (kind of)

• 100 % the type to judge (he wouldn't hide it AT ALL 😭)

• he does NOT gaf (his expression will say it all)

• but he wouldn't act immediately

• you were more patient than him with stuff like this so he knows that you could probably handle it

• but if it gets out of hand just give him a sign and he'll take care of the rest (🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️)

•he can be affectionate at times but he has to be in the mood for it

• so like expect random back hugs from him throughout the day

• especially if he's down

• he wouldn't say anything but just comes over to you and wraps his arms around you

• so please give him all the hugs you can!!

• headcanoning that he's actually a softie in disguise

• he's been through so much, so he doesn't really open up that easily

• but if he's really comfortable with you, i think he'd start to show his vulnerable side more

• however, this does NOT mean that he's a pushover in any way (he just trusts you that much)

• you were close with Ji woo (and Heewon too since you were in the same class)

• he doesn't really show it but it actually means so much to him (since you two were the two most important people in his life)

gen taglist: @mayflyfr

[greatprotector-if]

— OCS AS LOVE TYPES

tagged by @stephschoices to do this uquiz for some ocs and naturally i chose the 3 stooges <3 thank you very much for the tag i love uquizzes!!

tagging everyone reading this. i can do that right

KALLIAS — love that lasts

love unconditional, love unfailing. you love no matter what happens because you believe in the best – of you, and them. it will hurt and it will fail you, but this love tastes so sweet – you can never believe that it bitters sometimes. the way you choose to love unconditionally is incredible.

GALEN — love that strengthens

you make sure that people know that they are loved, and you give them strength when they need it the most. this is an ability that is rare; the love that you hold speaks wonders of yourself. i hope you're doing alright. isn't it exhausting always being the bigger person?

V — love that calms

this is sweet. i hope you know that you make others feel at ease around you. you're a gem, a blessing, a treasure – and you should know it. it's comfortable loving you. it's a privilege to be around you and to be let into your world.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)

⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you. 

💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair. 

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it). 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good). 

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor. 

💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you. 

D: Dirty Secret

👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!

💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though). 

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless. 

💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this. 

F: Favorite Position

👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock. 

💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands. 

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him. 

💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable. 

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another. 

💉: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture. 

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul. 

💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again. 

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence. 

👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad. 

💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax. 

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

👣: 

Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.

Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad. 

Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom. 

Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste. 

Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.  

💉: 

Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing. 

Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing. 

Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone. 

Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit. 

Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him. 

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together? 

💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time. 

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life. 

💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain. 

💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom. 

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth. 

💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more. 

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night. 

💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him). 

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.  

💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean! 

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally. 

💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form. 

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department). 

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke). 

👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life. 

💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him. 

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you. 

💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release. 

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat. 

💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time. 

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him. 

💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him. 

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock. 

💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly. 

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha. 

👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.  

💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido. 

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience. 

💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer. 

[sttoru]

.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it’s late at night and you try to cuddle with sukuna. keyword; try.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. fluff, angst (+comfort). heian era. size difference (readers referred to as small). sukuna’s a bit mean, but he also has a soft spot for you. miscommunication ? it gets solved. reader gets called ‘woman, doll’.

“what are you trying to do?” sukuna sighs. you’re up to something again, he figures. his red eyes follow your body as it crawls up to him on the bed.

you’re both tired after a long day of fulfilling some duties here and there around the estate. all you need is a big beefy man wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm and safe.

the perfect man for that is sukuna. those four arms of his wrapped around your small body feel like heaven.

“it’s called cuddling,” you retort. the sarcastic tone you used triggers a deep sigh from the sorcerer. sukuna holds back the urge to say something sarcastic as well.

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

. . he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him. the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it would be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still cannot fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence. his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

thus, it hurts. when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said. you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you. you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

the sorcerer doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

“you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other could follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head. your eyes are fixed on the back of your lover. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response. you whine at that, “put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is.

sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oh, you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity. the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away. he leans in and bites your lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you. ‘that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

[lokissweater]

“i would never lie to you.”

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.

word count: 2.3k

authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33

————————————————————————

toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.

as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.

he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.

so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.

but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.

his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.

you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.

every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.

toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.

but not right now.

not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.

and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.

upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.

he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.

“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.

he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.

but you only shook your head again.

toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.

you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.

his heart fucking broke.

“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”

he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.

he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.

he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.

“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”

“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”

he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.

“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”

toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.

fuck he felt like such a douche.

he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.

toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.

“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”

you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.

“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”

you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.

“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”

“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.

“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”

he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.

you felt his tension and pulled back.

“what?”

toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.

you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”

he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.

he typed for a minute then showed you.

“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”

you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”

he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.

“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”

your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.

he typed again.

“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”

“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.

“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”

he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”

“dicking around on my dick?”

you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”

you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.

“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”

his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.

“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”

you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”

toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”

“never.” he mouthed silently.

he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.

“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”

you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.

but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?

“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”

you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.

toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.

“do you promise?” you mumbled.

he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.

“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”

toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.

words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.

“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.

taglist!! <33: @saebaey

[prael]

Day 1: Scandal

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,260 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

They're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster. People scrambled in the aftermath, but the damage had been done, the proverbial milk spilt. And oh, did the milk spill alright. It sounds like everyone had tuned in right around the country. Hell, right around the world.

If they didn't catch it live, then they certainly caught the post-game replays.

There are a lot of those going around.

No amount of damage control could have prevented it from exploding all over the Internet and into every gossip rag imaginable. But damn it if her PR team hadn't tried to stop it anyway. They had gone on the offence—attacking everyone and anyone who had even so much as hinted at the incident. Filing every legal document they could just get it removed.

It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The ties are cut and you're both hung out to dry.

Well before it happened, there had been warnings. Karina was still fresh off the back of her first Dispatch leak. The two of them weren't even really dating. Two young, rich and hot adults were just fooling around, so once it hit the press and the online articles came in, she took the axe to that relationship right away. She could always find another dick to ride on.

That she did; your dick, and damn did she ride it.

It was a friend of a friend thing. You know one of those 'I showed this girl your picture and she wants to get to know you' things. To be honest, you thought it was a joke. Of course, you did. How often does some K-pop starlet want to have dinner with you?

Anyway, three months down the line and you're two and half months deep into, well, being deep into her.

Her apartment is nice. Her bed is nicer, or at least it is with her in it.

You spent night after night together doing every nasty, carnal thing she wanted. She loves it. You would come to realise she's a bit of a nymphomaniac—and you fucking love it. But, even still, you kept it casual. Kept it quiet.

Didn't work too well.

There was a close call, once.

You put it down to getting a little too comfortable. The guard slipped for just the briefest moment of weakness. Though, if anything, you would at least put part of the blame on the whole system. See, Karina can't catch a flight without the entire thing being documented. She arrives at the airport and they're all there waiting with cameras in hand to get the latest snap of her airport fashion as she comes out of the van. They know what flight she's on and the exact departure time, and then when she lands there's another group of fans waiting.

So it goes without saying, you two can't just waltz in there hand-in-hand. So you book the same flight, seated far enough away from her that no one would question a thing. You shouldn't speak, not until you're safely at the other end and in the privacy of the hotel room, but Karina is Karina.

So she texted you, this one time in the departure lounge. A twenty-minute window and directions to the toilets of the private lounge. There, in the small cubicle, you slipped down her jeans, turned her around, bent her over and made her feel good.

It was quick and messy. Nothing like how the sex would be in her hotel later that night. You had her cheek pressed against the door of the cubicle, your hand covering her mouth to stifle the noise, and your dick going balls deep in her hot pussy while her hand rubbed away at her clit. It was desperate and hungry—more the need to release the sexual tension than to enjoy it.

But damn was it fun.

She deepened the arch of her back and presented herself just that bit more for you and you watched every inch go inside her with each thrust. Watched as your cock spread apart those soft pussy lips of hers and vanished into the warm embrace of her body. Her ass shook as your hips slapped against it and eventually, her legs trembled so much that you had to wrap your arm around her waist to keep her up.

But when you came—and you came deep—someone entered the bathroom. Their presence was unknown until you heard the faucet run. For a brief, horrifying moment you thought it might be someone waiting to bust you.

A security guard or maybe a tabloid reporter ready to get their story. The scandal of the century? Not quite.

Just another passenger. They didn't even realise who they were next to as they washed their hands. But the idea that you both could've been caught, had Karina let that moan slip or if you hadn't just stopped pounding her against the door so hard that it rattled the hinges.

Afterwards, with your spent dick sliding out from between her tight thighs, it was something Karina whispered in your ear. She said, "That was close. We'll have to be more careful."

If only you knew just how careless she was about to be...

See, it was a pretty normal evening. She texted you a time to come over, and you took all the usual precautions. (There's a side door into the block and a service elevator that Karina made sure to get the passcode for.) Admittedly, you got there five minutes early, but it wasn't the first time it had happened, and since the first time, Karina made sure to leave a sock on the bedroom door just in case it happened again. She was streaming, you see, an Instagram live session. One of those things where the adoring fans get to listen to their idols talk about themselves, or their day, or sometimes with Karina, something a little out of the ordinary.

So you waited. A drink of water, sitting on her couch, and letting curiosity take over. You opened up her Instagram, watched her for a few minutes, and smiled to yourself because, as usual, she was simply being Karina. No topic, just rambling, but there were thousands watching anyway, because well, why wouldn't they?

A smile crept onto your face as you watched, knowing that she was in the next room, just looking that good, and soon enough you would be in there ravishing her. There were thousands upon thousands of other people, jealous of you without even realising you existed, who would give almost anything to be in your shoes—to be able to do the things you do to Karina. Fuck, some of them would probably sell everything they owned.

Then she started saying goodbye to people. Signing off, wishing them a good night, whatever. So you locked the phone and waited until she came down the hallway.

She was moving quickly, right towards you. Bare feet hitting the wooden floor in hurried little slaps. She jumped right into your lap without so much as a 'Hello', and she clamped her legs, clad in tight yoga pants, around your waist. She grabbed either side of your face and kissed you, a hand reaching back and pulling on the hair at the base of your skull as she did.

And it wasn't soft either.

It was fierce and aggressive. Her tongue forced its way into your mouth, pushing against your own, flicking over your teeth. She ground herself against the erection growing beneath her and breathed hot breath against your lips while biting down on the lower one.

"You," she gasped. "Take me to the bedroom... Now."

"Hi to you too," you joked, putting your arms under her butt.

She was so very easy to carry. Maybe because you had done it so many times before. But she had always been a light little thing, so slender apart from exactly the places you would want her to be big. It always made it so easy to pin her against the wall with her leg over your shoulder, to press her up against the shower and bounce her up and down on your cock while steam filled the bathroom. But mostly it was great because you could easily throw her down on the bed.

Tonight wasn't going to be any different.

Except it was, wasn't it? But neither of you knew that just yet.

As you walked toward her room, holding her gorgeous body up with nothing but a firm grasp on her ass, she kept whispering things to you. Whispered them right against your ear, her voice low and husky as she did. She told you about all the things that she wanted you to do to her. The things that she wanted to do to you. Like some raw, filthy script of a play long overdue to be performed.

"...and then I want you to put it right back in my pussy and cum in me again and again," she said it right as you pushed through the door. Look, Karina's room isn't that huge, but when you're dying to get your cock into her, going all the way to the bed seemed like such a pain when there was a perfectly good wall right there. You turned and pinned her against it.

There you two stayed for a while, locked in that embrace, kissing and nibbling. She wrestled your shirt off over your head while you peeled up her sports bra. You bent your head down to her chest and kissed along the valley between her breasts. Her soft skin warm against your lips, and you kept pressing them down on her, leaving faint wet marks until you reached one of those pert pink nipples. You cupped her tit and you sucked. Hard.

A little whimper of appreciation followed by a slight tremble through her body was the response.

You went from one to the other. Fingers caressing one and your mouth on the other, switching between them, never fully committing to either, keeping her guessing as to which nipple would feel the bliss next. Karina knew what she wanted, and she simply wouldn't wait. Maybe the rush to get fucked could be blamed for all of this.

See, while you sucked her tits, she pulled down her leggings and her underwear. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was convenience, but she didn't even pull them past her knees. Instead, as you continued your adoration, she unbuckled your belt and let your trousers fall to the floor. Your underwear didn't last long either. She gave a couple of lazy strokes up the length of your cock, just enough for her to feel it getting hard. Enough for her to know you could give her what she needs.

She twisted between you and the wall and leaned against it; her tits pressing against the white paintwork, and she stuck out her ass. "Don't hold back," she instructed. "I need it."

For all the focus you gave her tits, Karina does have a hell of an ass.

So with her arms up above her head and grasping high, she looked perfect. The swell of her hips, the curve of her ass—it was just to be grabbed and slapped. Those legs looked fucking perfect, slightly muscled from hours of dance practice but still so thin and lean. And between them... fuck. If there's such a thing as a pussy so good it should win awards then Karina better prepare her speech.

You weren't gentle.

Gentle doesn't work for her. Gentle is boring. Normal. Vanilla. Karina's tasted it all before and she's bored. You won't remember the first time she said those words to you. She made you promise not to judge her but she told you exactly how depraved and slutty she really wants to be in bed.

So when she said, "Fuck me hard," you did exactly that.

Spit on your cock was enough to get it slick. You stroked the tip up and down across her waiting pussy a couple of times and found the right place. Then you slid it right inside her, letting it rest buried for just a moment before you pulled back. You didn't even go halfway before you thrust it right back into her. Right down to the balls. Deep as you can go.

A pleasured hiss passed over clenched teeth as her cheek pressed against the wall and she nodded, just once, telling you that she wanted more. You fucked her harder, feeling her hot insides clench at your cock. Her hips smacked against the wall with each thrust, the room echoing with the sounds of your flesh coming together. The squelch of her wet hole was barely audible over her cries. Cries that steadily increased in volume the longer you held her against the wall, the more aggressively you bucked your hips against her, the harder you drove your dick into her body.

"Don't stop!" she cried out as her legs shivered.

No danger of that.

Maybe you should have.

Karina was struggling. To not fall apart in your hands, to hold herself against the wall, but also just to keep breathing as the intensity of your deep pounding washed over her, making her shudder and shake in front of you. One of her hands flew down to between her legs. The tips of her fingers went in a circle around her clit.

But as much fun as taking her against the wall was, she would fall if you continued.

So you did what you knew you could so easily do, just threw her. Her quivering body collapsed onto her bed after a small stumble. Right into the one place in the room, she shouldn't be.

See, Karina was sitting just here, maybe ten minutes earlier. You were watching, on your phone. She had chatted and joked and waved goodbye, just where you were about to fuck her.

She clambered up the bed and onto all fours, looking back at you with lust-drunk eyes, urging you on, needing to be fucked some more. So you crawled right up behind her, took a grip of those beautiful hips and you slipped your cock back inside her.

One stroke and you bottomed out within her.

Two strokes and she began moaning again.

By the third, you were slamming her forward with each push.

The bed creaked in protest as you hammered yourself into Karina, keeping up with what she wanted as she pushed back at you, meeting every buck of your hips with equal force and speed. At least one orgasm tore through her body. You felt it in the way her body contracted around your thick shaft as you drove it deep inside her, but also heard it in the way she screeched through gritted teeth. Saw it as she clawed at the blankets, grabbing handfuls of material and pulling at them as her body tensed up.

"Cum," she pleaded with just the one word.

And that's what you did. Her little pussy made sure of it. Feeling her spasm around you, squeezing your throbbing cock so tightly that you couldn't resist but join her in ecstasy. So you flooded her sweet cunt, sending ropes of cum into her waiting body, painting her walls, feeling every inch of her pussy pulse as her body urged yours to give her everything it had. Her cries mingled with the heavy panting as you emptied your balls within her.

You couldn't keep it up. Fucking Karina sometimes feels too intense, takes so much energy out of you, makes your muscles burn. So you had to withdraw from her and rest back on your haunches, catching your breath, your heart racing. But Karina is Karina.

She turned around and before you could move, she had taken hold of your thighs and moved forward. Her lips wrapped around the tip of your glistening cock and began sucking on it. As her tongue rolled across the slit and along the underside, tasting your seed and her own juices combined. Her cheeks hollowed, eyes staring up at you from behind damp hair and you felt her moans reverberating through you.

How can she do this every time? How can she make you recover so quickly? Because you did. No sooner had Karina placed her head in your lap than you grew hard again. You were left fighting that war against conflicting desires: whether to push her off and have her again or keep the pleasure of having her mouth on you. Every swirl of her tongue across the sensitive parts of your cock, the feeling of her lips gliding along its length, her throat opening and the tightness taking your crown.

"Oh shit..." you groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She didn't answer but you noticed her hips wiggle slowly side-to-side.

It wasn't long before she relinquished the grasp she had on your thighs and let you pull her into position. A roll onto her back. A pillow under her lower back. You hooked one leg over your shoulder while she held the other out wide, laying right on the edge of the bed. You sank into her again and again, rocking the entire bed with each thrust.

And how you only wish now that you had at literally any point taken a look to your right. Maybe you would have questioned why her phone was still there. Maybe you would have made her check the thing was actually off.

Of course, you know now the mistake that Karina made.

You pushed her down into the bed, pressing her leg against her chest as you fucked her. Fucked her deeply. You had changed the tempo now, switched to something slower, more powerful and purposeful. That load you left in her cunt made the whole thing a mess. You pounded into her and it spilt between you, running down her ass and soaking her bedding. Karina gasped as her second climax crashed through her.

Her phone caught it all.

Every minute.

When Karina came, so loud, so hard, so intense that she didn't know who or where she was, people were watching. Her fans watched. When she said your name as she stared up into your eyes with such gratitude, they were listening. And when you came for the second time, she made sure everyone could hear.

"I feel it," she whispered, her fingers digging into your arms. "I feel it. All of it. Give me more. Fill me."

She pulled at her thighs, spreading herself open and making you groan into the crook of her neck as your throbbing dick pulsed, unleashing another load of thick cum deep within her body, making another wonderful mess. Leaving her already soaked cunt saturated. Together you lay like that, two exhausted bodies wrapped in an embrace, your cock twitching, occasionally releasing a few drops inside her. Karina giggled.

"There's nothing better than that feeling," she groaned. "Nothing... better."

She looked right into your eyes as she said it.

"It's my favourite thing in the world."

So you kissed her, both of you falling into the tangled mass of sweat-soaked blankets while you stayed on top of her. She didn't want to let go, not yet, not while the closeness and warmth were shared. Your bodies pressed together with your softening cock still inside her until eventually you slipped out and came to lie beside her. She nestled up against your chest.

In the silence that proceeded, there was a vibration across the room. Your phone is still in your pocket, somewhere on the floor. You let it ring out, while you lay there, breathing heavily. Again it vibrated. "Ugh," you groaned, "Leave me alone."

"Is someone missing you?" Karina teased.

"Doubt it," you replied.

Karina let her hand trace patterns across your chest, moving slowly towards your hip. You knew the game. Get you hard again, and ride you into the middle of next week. It worked, too. Even though you protested, her hand wrapping around your shaft soon brought it back to life. Sensitive strokes had you squirming and groaning.

"Well, whoever it is will just have to deal with the fact you're mine tonight," she purred.

Then you heard an unusual noise. Another buzz. But not your phone. From somewhere else. But you paid it no attention as Karina got up from your chest, swung her leg over you and began lowering herself down onto you. What started as slow gentle fucking quickly progressed back to something far hungrier and desperate. Her nails dragged lines across your torso, your hands gripping tightly at her waist to steady her. You watched as your cum leaked out of her cunt and onto you as she rode.

You reached between her legs and scooped up a blob, bringing it to her lips.

"Lick it," you told her. "Taste it."

And she opened wide for your fingers and cleaned them up. "That's what you wanted?"

"Yeah. Tell me what it tastes like."

"Tastes like us," she moaned, fucking you faster, pushing you deeper.

Then she leaned back, making a show of the way she rolled her hips against you. Bouncing as she impaled herself on you. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed as another orgasm approached. It built slowly, the intensity growing higher and higher until she teetered on the edge, balanced between bliss and rapture. The way her tits bounced had you hypnotised. Focus locked on her. Ignoring the phone that continued to ring.

She was close. Really close. Riding you frantically. Her moans turned into short desperate gasps until she had no voice left. You heard the scream before and saw how hard she came, but now you had front-row seats to watch it all again. Her muscles tightened and spasmed. Her rhythm faltered.

Your phone rang.

"Shit. Oh fuck!" she screamed, throwing her head back, arching her spine and freezing mid-thrust.

Her cunt gripped you tightly. Squeezing, milking. Urging you to release within her once more and give her that final gift. You felt her leak over you. Watched as her pussy throbbed as she rode out those final moments, struggling to continue as her strength failed. You grabbed her hips and did the work. Thrusting up into her repeatedly. Feeling her cum dribbling down your shaft and over your balls. Fuck, she's messy.

She panted desperately and let her arms drop by her side, staying arched and leaning back. You helped her balance. She needed it.

Your phone kept ringing.

You ignored it. You fucked up into her, wanting nothing more than to cum inside her again. Your muscles burned. You clenched your teeth. The pressure in your lower abdomen was unbearable. But you pounded up into Karina, making her call out with each thrust, while your grip on her probably turned her hips purple. The pleasure in you rose and rose, so fast, so intense, and without warning it broke.

You came again.

Holding her down and shooting your cum deep inside her. Gasping for air as you did, flooding her body with rope after rope until her insides dripped. Her thighs became glazed in the evidence of your passion.

Then you lowered her down to lie against your chest and you held her close. Until her breathing settled and you could hear her purr, "I think you've outdone yourself this time."

"I think you'll kill me," you joked in return.

"But imagine how happy I'd be if you died from giving me too many orgasms."

A laugh. Another vibration. "Whoever that is must really need me," you grumbled.

"Fuck them," she laughed.

"Why, when I can keep fucking you?"

Karina bit her lip. She seemed pleased with that answer. Then you realised that even as you softened within her, she hadn't stopped grinding against you. Making those slow circles, keeping herself stimulated and trying to get you hard again.

"You're relentless," you marvelled.

"And you love it."

"I love-"

There's a bang at the door and then a bell.

Karina groaned. She sighed. She relented.

Then she rolled off your spent cock, letting it slip from her swollen cunt and you both stared at the ceiling. "Maybe they'll go away?" you mused. They didn't.

"Come on," she huffed. "Stay there. Let me get rid of them."

You listened to her walk across the hardwood floor in her bare feet. Unstable steps courtesy of your enthusiastic rutting.

She pulled on a robe and left the room. Your phone vibrated again as she left, so finally you rolled out of the bed, crawled to find your pants and pulled the damn thing out.

More missed calls and messages than you could count, and not just one person. Your friends, Karina's friends, and... Karina's manager? Face recognition kicked in and the phone unlocked. You're staring at Karina's messy bed.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on your screen.

The icon has the word 'live' beside it.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on Instagram Live.

Your heart stops beating. Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow nothing. Wait. One. Two. Three.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" is the scream from across the apartment. You look at the phone again. Karina's messy bed, on Instagram Live, with millions of viewers.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

That was when the realisation of your combined carelessness struck you both—separated by a wall, finding out from two different sources.

Now, they're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster.

[liabugs]

how do you think the boys would be with an mc who's like deathly scared of sex, like she wants it but is so terribly frightened of it :( like she can cuddle and kiss them but she gets scared when things get sexual :(

I have so many asks in my inbox but this one caught my eye :3

This took kinda a dark turn in zayne's + Caleb's so tw for dubcon/noncon, not proof read

CW: fam!reader (she/her pronouns used) male masturbation, making out, pantie stealing (?) baby trapping, use if 'gege' (Caleb's) let me know if I missed any 🩷

Dividers by @/v6que and @/anitalenia!!

Xavier — ୨୧

Xavier would never force you into doing anything that you're not comfortable with. He wouldn't be pushy at all. When you're ready, he's ready. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get blue balls when you make out with him :(

Your lips moving perfectly against his, his tongue caressing yours... His hands on your hips.. But it's all gone when he starts to lose his resolve and grinds his hips against yours. You pull away, Xavier mentally cursing himself for getting ahead of himself and ruining the moment.

So when he leaves your place somewhere around 10:30 pm after finishing a movie, the moment he steps into his apartment he rushes to his room to relieve himself.

He thinks about how your cunt would feel wrapped around his length, so warm and tight. Pumping his cock in his fist, pre cum seeping from his slit. He can't help but cum moaning your name.

Rafayel — ୨୧

Rafayel can be needier than most, but he always puts your comfort before his. He loves you to the point where just having your presence around him is enough to satisfy him.

So the first time you get intimate with him is very cute! Playfulness and teasing all around. Rafayel takes a more wholesome approach to things, making sure to praise you the way you deserve.

Feather light kisses, giggling and other wholesome things to lighten up the mood. Because there's one thing Rafayel doesn't want you feeling when being intimate with him, that being scared.

Zayne — ୨୧

Zayne is totally fine with you not being comfortable being intimate with him. He's a busy guy, so chased kiesses and cute dates work fine. At least that's what you see on the outside.

On the inside, he is raging with sexual frustration. He does a good job of hiding it though, taking cold showers to get rid of his sexual tension. It gets to a point where cold showers aren't cutting it anymore.

And before he knows it, he's using the spare key to you apartment. He's going through your underwear drawer, he tries to rationalize his actions. But the way you cute black lace panties feel around his cock overpowers any sanity he has left.

And if you found out? Could you really blame him? You make it hard not to loose control of his usually composed demeanor.

Sylus — ୨୧

Sylus is nothing if not patent. The time will come when you will get over your fears, the time will come when you crave him in every way he craves you.

And when that time comes, you will share the same longing Sylus has felt for lifetimes. Sylus is nothing if not gentle. Slow, soft and sensual. His hands moving all over your body, his lips fitting perfectly with yours.

He loves the way you look at him, unsure, hesitant... He loves when your face contorts in pleasure, when you realize that there was nothing to be fearful of. He loves when you depend on him for pleasure, because he's the only one you can make you feel good.

He's the only one who can make you see stars when you give him your everything.

Caleb — ୨୧

Caleb knows your scared, it's okay, he only wants the best for you. And the best thing for you is to go dumb on his cock and take his seed. Let him knock you up, he knows it's scary. But when he fucks his baby into you, everything will be okay, you'll be safe.

He'll make sure of it, you trust him right? His pipsqueak trusts her gege to make the right choice for her? Ssh ssh it's okay I know baby, just take it... Just focus on how good it feels. As he pumps his hot load into you, tears streaming down your face.

He would kiss your tears away and tell you how good you were for him, he would apologize for hurting you... He was just doing what's in your best interest, you can forgive him right?