#but i do need to approach it different this time. avoid what caused me to fall out the first time... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovesickhughes · 6 months ago

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locker room | quinn hughes

a/n: hahah okay wow. this one definitely is a different type of fic from my usuals. that being said, please attend to the warnings listed below, and if any of the listed warnings make you uncomfortable in any way, please do not interact. i'm quite shocked at myself with this one. i wrote it all in one sitting, and idk what came over me, BUT i was determined with this one! that being said, i hope you enjoy a little slutty piece of our beloved quinn 🙂‍↕️❤️‍🔥😜

summary: you want nothing more than to comfort quinn during his rough season, so you take a different approach

warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT– mdni [18+]. some angst, a glimpse of sad!quinn :( ROUGH SEX, dom!quinn, oral (m!receiving), p in v, choking, exhibitionism and hints of coercion (but very light), praise kink, unprotected sex (please remember to always practice safe sex!). if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count: 3.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Although you weren’t ever directly involved in Quinn’s games, it pained you to watch the effort he puts into each and every period he plays, injuries upon injuries stacking up, and the weight of a team trying to navigate a win increasing. The observations leaving you wanting nothing more than to take away his pain and suffering.

His tired eyes would meet yours when he would drag himself into your shared apartment, the glow of downtown Vancouver casting shadows in the living room. You would have the replays of the game playing quietly in the background as you averted your gaze to the brunette whose shoulders would slump over his frame. It had become a routine; he would enter your apartment, fall into your arms as you came to his aid, attempting to distract him from the fact he was on the verge of his breaking point.

“Quinn, we’ve talked about this– you can’t keep expecting good things to happen if you’re not taking care of yourself. I mean, look at you–” You would argue, a sorrowful gaze meeting his tired, dark eyes that would quickly dart to focus on something else when you brought up a conversation that was known all too well.

“Y/n, I can handle it. It’s all a part of the game and being captain.” He would push back, growing cold and tight-lipped. You desperately tried to avoid evoking Quinn further in distress, your main effort being to support him when he needed, but considering it was a sensitive topic, you felt as though you were walking on thin, cracking ice, not knowing when Quinn would reach his limits and have the pressure all come crumbling back down upon him.

It was another night, another tough loss, that you unfortunately witnessed in person, and the atmosphere of the arena carried a mournful feeling as fans exited their seats. You were in a suite among a few other wives and girlfriends, consoling one another after the rough game, before walking across the concourse and down to the floor that held the quiet, tension-filled locker room.

You waited along the wall with a few other family members of the players, quietly conversing with one another, but the unspoken weight of the loss hung over everyone’s heads. As if you were all avoiding the real topic at hand– how difficult it was to see the players lose.

The coaching staff walked quickly out of the locker room and down the hall to their offices with determination and disappointment coursing through their steps, and as time slowly passed by, the sorrow-looking hockey players eventually made their way out of the locker room to reconnect with their family members.

You watched as slowly, one by one, as the waiting area got smaller and more quiet as the night continued on. By the time you had started growing concerned that Quinn had not made it out, you had checked your phone to see the time read 11:36PM, an unusual time to still be lingering around the arena.

You were conflicted with what to do– you knew Quinn was still in the locker room, but the silence was deafening and caused you to grow uneasy, standing all by yourself in a dimly lit part of the arena.

You knew it would be frowned upon, but considering you were not alone and Quinn was still getting ready to depart, you felt your feet drag you closer to the doors that would lead you through to the room you had only ever heard stories about, and pictures and videos of.

You peered around the corner of the arch, dividing the hallway to the locker room, seeing each empty cubby with each player's name written across the boarder with their hockey equipment neatly hung.

Slowly, you walked further, more of the room becoming exposed before you were welcomed with the sight of your boyfriend, Quinn, sitting in his designated spot, his lower half of hockey gear still tightly hugging his body, but nothing else– exposing his torso and more.

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight, his head hung low, wet curls falling forward, a few sticking to his head as his shoulders raised up and down in a slow manner. The sound of your quiet steps must have been enough to catch his attention from his focused gaze below him.

Quinn did a double take, seeing you standing opposite from him, in a room you would never be allowed in, in any other circumstance, which caused his brows to furrow in confusion.

“What are you doing here? Y/n– you shouldn’t be in here.” He said through a low grumble, a rush of urgency washing over his face and standing up immediately to walk over to you. His body was mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching your own as you were left speechless, because for a matter of fact, you had no idea what you were doing in the locker room.

But being left waiting for almost two hours past the end of a game, and growing worried, you felt like there was no other option, other than to take a different approach to console your boyfriend.

You inhaled sharply at the close proximity, feeling Quinn’s breath on your face, watching his muscles contort in ways that you scolded yourself for finding attractive and causing an ache to pulse through your core. The tension that filled the space between you two, as you both looked into each other’s eyes, made it almost suffocating, your breathing growing irregular.

You blink harshly to refocus yourself, reaching your arm to place delicately against Quinn’s exposed bicep.

“I know, I shouldn’t be here– I know,” You started, looking at Quinn with a more serious demeanour, “but I was getting worried, and you know I hate seeing you like this.” You coo, running your hand up and down the warm skin of his arm.

“Y/n, you don’t need to worry, we’ve been over this how many times– I can handle it.” He said through a groan, tilting his head back. And you couldn’t help but watch his features as he leaned his head back, his defined collarbone and shoulder muscles, bulging from their recent overexertion from the game.

You scolded yourself again at the fact the only thought that filled your mind was how attractive Quinn looked, the way he was only covered by his lower half of hockey gear, his muscles shifting as he breathed and stood before you. You knew it was wrong, but the only thought that consumed you, was that you wanted nothing more than to please him, and show him other ways you were there for him.

That was when it felt like a lightbulb lit up in your mind. You knew it wasn’t right, but just that made you crave more.

“What are the odds other people are still here?” You questioned, glancing your eyes to the side and out the archway to the hallway. Quinn’s expression grew only more confused.

“Uh, I mean it’s getting pretty late, so probably not a lot.” He said slowly, squinting his eyes at you for the odd question. “Why, Y/n.”

You shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “oh, no reason– just wondering.”

“Y/n, what are you trying to get at?” Quinn pressed further, reaching a hand to your jaw to pull your focus back on him.

“Well, y’know– I just had a thought.” You said, failing to hold Quinn’s piercing eye contact, but when you do briefly, his gaze lingered more lustfully.

He stepped closer, if it was even possible, causing you to sharply inhale. “Y/n, tell me why you think it’s okay for you to waltz your way into my locker room, when you know it’s probably prohibited.”

“Because!” You exasperated, “Because, Quinn. I hate seeing you like this, and I want nothing more than to stop you from feeling like this. Clearly my previous antics haven't worked.” You scoffed quietly. You watched for Quinn’s response intricately, watching his face contort as he processed your confession.

His tongue toyed this inside of his cheek, a grin peaking out, “is that so?”

You nodded your head, holding his gaze with your own, looking at him with doe eyes, which caused a soft groan to fall from his lips.

“I have another idea to make you feel better though.” You continued, Quinn’s head perking in interest. “Come, sit.” You ushered him to sit back in his designated spot in the locker room. You sat close to him, feeling the heat of his body emit onto you. You reached for his hand with one of your own, your other finding his bicep and softly gripping the flesh.

The two of you hold an intense gaze, anticipating each one of you to make a move first, the tension between you both turning from angstful to more sensual. Without a second doubt, Quinn reached his hand to your jaw, pulling your face to his and connecting your lips. You both inhale at the contact, before melting into the feeling and release of pressure.

You bring your own hand to his face, feeling the scruff of his facial hair, roughly brushing against your skin. You moan softly against his lips, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth, enveloping you into a feeling of pure bliss as your mouths molded together.

You then pull away, breathless and inspect his face, searching his features and seeing his lips a darker shade, swollen and wet.

“Is there somewhere more private in here?” You asked softly, quickly pressing another slow, wet kiss to his lips.

Quinn looked around the room, searching for an answer, before his gaze stopped on the door that held a bathroom behind the frame.

“The bathroom will probably be our best bet, if we really do this.” He said, turning back to you.

Your tongue wet your own lips in anticipation, an excitement rushing through your body.

“Then let’s be quick.” You smirked, standing up before Quinn, walking towards the closed door of the bathroom, hearing Quinn quickly shed his bulky hockey gear, leaving him in his compression pants and nothing more.

As you stepped into the tiled room, you shrugged off your jacket, hung it up and searched the room for any area that could make your plan easier. The door quietly clicked shut, bringing your attention to Quinn, who quickly approached you, softly pushing you against the wall, placing an arm near your head and the other gripping your waist as he held you in his embrace.

His lips found yours again, eager and determined to create more desperation between you both. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, and then down your neck, his breaths causing electricity to pulse through your veins, and your back to arch and a moan to fall from your lips when he sucked softly on your sweet spot.

Your arms found his shoulders, stopping his advances and he looked up to meet your eyes, searching yours for answers.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I want to make this about you, baby.” You said softly, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck and delicately tugging on his curls, causing his eyes to shut softly.

“Wanna show me then, hm?” He asked, his eyelids hung low. You bit your lower lip in excitement, holding his gaze as you swapped places with him, before falling to your knees below him, never losing his sight. Your hands steady yourself against his strong thighs, sliding up to caress his exposed torso, feeling the muscles respond to your touch as you reached around to explore.

Your fingers then hooked under the hem of his compression pants, tugging the fabric down to his knees, enough to expose his throbbing cock, the tip swollen and pink, desperately waiting to feel some sort of release.

You gripped the base of his cock with your hand, carefully, as your mouth practically salivated at the sight of Quinn watching your every move, never breaking eye contact. And when you reach your mouth to place a kiss to the side of his aching member, the sight of Quinn’s eyes fluttering shut, creates a warmth between your own legs. Your mouth began to go to work, placing kisses along his shaft and pumping his cock once before delving into your masterwork, as Quinn would define it.

You kitten lick his tip before sliding his cock between your lips, his thick member filling your mouth, even just the feeling causing you to moan. Quinn’s hands instinctively find the wall and the side of your head to balance himself. You begin to go to work, bobbing your head along his shaft, pumping and massaging whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and the sounds of your saliva mixed with his excretions, tied in with his whines in response, caused you to grind in your own spot, feeling warmth spreading through your own body.

You then look up to Quinn through your eyelashes, watching his face contort with your pleasuring, and his chest rising and falling shakily. You held eye contact with Quinn as you slid his member farther into your mouth, until it couldn’t possibly move any farther, and you ran your nails against the skin of his thighs simultaneously, Quinn erupting in a series of groans and profanities at the feeling.

“Fuck, baby, look at you. So fuckin’ pretty taking my cock so well.” He groaned his head tilting back against the wall as his hand gripped the back of your head and pushed lightly to stretch your mouth wider. You almost gag on the pressure, eyes watering, saliva dripping from your chin– making you a complete mess. You then slowly release him from your mouth, a trail of spit hanging between you and his solid cock, and you place a messy kiss on his tip, causing it to twitch in response to the contact.

“Want me to keep going?” You asked eagerly, hands still placed on his thighs, waiting for him to direct you in the situation.

Quinn bit his lip, contemplating how he wanted you, before he grabbed your hands and brought you to your own feet.

“Pants off, now.” He said sternly, his lips attaching to your neck and hands finding either side of your waist. You nodded in compliance, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, and you shimmy out of your tight pants, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving you in nothing other than your top and lace panties.

Quinn’s hands roamed your body as his mouth continued to do work against your skin, your own hands finding their place on his shoulders, gripping tightly. And you almost bite down on his broad shoulder to contain the high-pitched squeal you feel erupting through your throat at the feeling of his hand slipping between the fabric of your panties and dipping into your core.

Quinn groans in pleasure at the feeling, “fuck, baby, sucking my cock really got you this wet?” He murmured against your collarbone, still decorating your skin with his kisses.

You hummed in agreement, tugging at the curls by his neck as a way to let him know you needed him instantly. He pulled away from attacking your skin with love bites, meeting your gaze with hungry eyes, and turning you around so your back was flush against his chest. His hands roamed your body, groping the curves and all his favourite parts of you.

“Panties off, now. I want you bent over that counter.” Was all Quinn said before he guided you urgently towards the sink’s countertop, a mirror hung on the wall, exposing the sex-filled sight of the two of you.

You complied to his demands, scurrying to fold your hips against the cold countertop, each of your hands pressed against the surface to steady yourself. It wasn’t long before Quinn was positioned behind you, but before he continued, his fingers hooked under your own shirt, and swiftly discarded it, leaving you bare and the cool air and feeling of the counter touching your exposed skin.

Quinn stroked his own cock a few times, collecting a wad of spit from his mouth to wet his hard member, and you watched intently at his every moves, and as he stepped closer to your frame, you anticipated the feeling of the tip of his cock coming into contact with your throbbing core.

His one hand was held firmly at the base of his cock, while the other tightly gripped your hip, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed forward, bottoming you out completely, the stretch and rush of pleasure leaving your mouth hung open. Quinn’s bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he let the feeling of your core envelope him, clenching against his cock, and his hands roamed your body while you adjusted.

He reached down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, ‘kay?” He asked softly, barely audible into your ear.

You only nodded, unable to form words as Quinn stretched you out in all the right ways. He then slowly began to thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. The anticipation of the way he was going to fuck you, leaving you in a puddle of your own arousal. His hands balanced himself on your hips as his thrusts slowly progressed in speed, his cock sliding along the walls of your core, the contact eliciting a rush of euphoria through your body.

It was as if a switch had been turned on in Quinn, because his slowly increasing thrusts turned into rough poundings as a shock of pleasure was sent to your clit at the contact of his hips against yours.

Your mouth continued to hang open in pleasure, watching Quinn determinedly fuck you. Whatever pent up stress, anger, or frustration he had, you knew you had to let him get out, even if that meant it was through destroying you.

The sounds of your wet pussy slapping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, and Quinn’s grunts that left his mouth followed after each thrust.

His eyes then shifted from watching his cock slide in and out of you, to meet your eyes through the mirror. He grinned slyly at the sight of your flushed face, his hands roaming your body and coming up to plant themself just tightly enough on the back of your neck while maintaining his speed of thrusts. Your head leaned back into the feeling of his hand on the nape of your neck, holding you tightly in place, the pleasure that erupted through your body feeling so blissful, you weren’t able to formulate words– only small noises of pleasure with each thrust.

“Look at you baby, so fucking cock drunk– you love when I fuck you like this, huh?” Quinn said through gritted teeth, his own pleasure rushing through his veins. ‘Fuck, Y/n. You feel so fucking good around my cock– so fucking good. Taking me so well.” He praised as he watched intently as you responded with moans to the feeling of his cock bottoming you out with each strong thrust.

Your eyes shut as you focus on the feeling of Quinn thrusting into you from behind, so harshly, and the shock of pleasure that follows each thrust. And you feel his hand release from the back of your neck, grazing along the side of your face until you feel his two fingers find your open mouth, stuffing his digits into your mouth. As if it were second nature, you began to suck on his fingers, a loud moan falling from your throat at the feeling that now tied in with each thrust, and you started to feel the familiar warmth begin to spread through your body as the knot began to loosen in your core.

“Just like that, baby. Look at you. Sucking on me so well, your pussy and mouth were fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned, his thrusts increasing to a speed you didn’t even know was possible. You shifted in your position, letting Quinn know through your body language that you were close, and he took that as an invite to hoist your one leg up to rest on the countertop, allowing for Quinn to hit even deeper into your core, a loud moan coming crying out of your throat, being muffled by his fingers.

Quinn’s hand left your mouth, a string of spit following as you reopened your eyes, seeing your flushed face, smudged mascara and tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure.

“Fuck, Quinn, I’m so close.” You whined, tucking your head into your chest before looking back up to watch Quinn move from behind you. A moan left your lips in synchrony with each thrust Quinn sent through your body, and you could tell he was approaching his own climax as his thrusts faltered, and began to fall more inconsistent.

“Come for me, baby. Such a fucking good girl– taking me so well. This pussy was fuckin’ made for me” He encouraged again, his one hand slipping between your core and the countertop, his fingers finding your sensitive clit, and sending shocks of pleasure through the bundle of nerves, ultimately leading to your release around his cock. You whine loudly as the rush of euphoria takes over your body, flooding your veins with pleasure and a tingling sensation as you ride your high. Quinn continues to thrust into you, slowing his movements as he approaches his own release. Not long after, he releases into you, his warm, thick excretion filling you to the brim as he stays inside you for a mere minute, before pulling out, leaving your core to ache at the loss.

He pulls you up from your position over the counter, hugging you against his chest and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay? I wasn’t too rough?” He mumbled against your head, and you turned in his embrace, looking up at him with a loving gaze and planting a quick kiss to his lips.

“No, that was so good.” You smiled sheepishly, your chest heaving up and down as you came down from your orgasm; the high causing you to feel an immense amount of bliss. “But that wasn’t what I planned, it was supposed to be all about you and making you feel better.” You playfully pout, sticking out your bottom lip and batting your lashes at Quinn.

He only laughs, pulling you into a tighter hug, “hey, making you sound like that, and just having you like that, already makes me feel ten times better.”

You dramatically roll your eyes, “fine, so it’s a win-win.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a win-win.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes smut

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bloodstainedsapphic · 6 months ago

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becoming ellie williams' personal nurse was absolutely not part of your grand plan. in fact, being ellie williams’ anything hadn’t crossed your mind until an unexpected run-in left you the only one available to patch her up after a rough patrol. you’d spoken fewer than ten times before that, but after that night, ellie unilaterally decided you were the only person allowed to help her when she got injured. you didn’t fuss as much as maria, or dina, or anyone else—and that was enough for her. or at least, that’s what she claimed. it certainly didn’t hurt that you were cute.

that's how you found yourself falling into a routine—ellie 'just happening' to show up at your door, flashing those worn green eyes and grumbling about how "it's not that bad" to garner enough pity until you inevitably caved and fixed her up, sparing her yet another lecture from maria.

tonight was no different. she lingered outside, shifting her weight like she was debating whether to knock. but since this had become clockwork, you were already pulling the door open, and she shuffled inside uttering a, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you sighed, already moving to nab your ever-growing stash of first-aid supplies as she dropped into your desk chair. ellie had tried to clean herself up beforehand, but it was fruitless—her green jacket, the one now being hastily shrugged off, had been covering the worst of it. a deep gash on her arm, the lingering traces of a nosebleed, fresh cuts along her cheek. she’d been through hell and back.

"ellie," your voice carried a warning as you approached, reaching out to cautiously inspect her wounded arm. "this isn't just some scrape." ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, taking the accosting while settling in the chair she'd visited many times already. "it's nothing. i don't want maria finding out and pulling me off patrols."

your lips pressed into a thin line, but you didn't protest further. you knew how much patrol meant to her—how she needed it. how ellie seemed to rely on it to feel like she provided something useful to jackson. so instead, you got to work, gently cleaning the cuts along her forearm. ellie winced as the antiseptic hit raw skin, her fingers twitching against her thigh. unfortunately, the cut had grazed her tatted arm. you made a valiant effort to be delicate enough to mend the cut without disturbing the tattoo—luckily, it had missed the chemical burn ellie said she'd gotten on that arm years ago.

"oh, stop whining," you chided over her complaints. "shouldn't you be used to the pain by now? little masochist. and what's with you aiming for this poor arm so much? you've got two to work with, you know.” ellie scoffed at your chastizing, biting the inside of her cheek as her expression shifted to annoyance but not full offense. "right, lemme plan my injuries better next time."

you dabbed at a shallow abrasion beneath her cheekbone. ellie's eyes flickered up, trying to capture yours, but you wouldn't budge from the injury. she bit her crimson-stained lip, like she was weighing her next words wisely. "you keep patching me up, though. makes me wonder... i mean, i dunno..." ellie stilted her delivery, partly out of nerves, partly to grab your attention. "maybe you like seein' me all banged up," her tone took on a pitchy lilt as she kept peeking up at you.

the way she said it—less of a tease, a tad second-guessing, trying to dare a reaction out of you—made your stomach do something stupid.

"a better patient would stop causing such a distraction," you shot back, deliberately avoiding her gaze while keeping with the 'strict nurse' facade. you couldn't suppress a hint of a smirk though, briefly wiping your mouth to try and shield the small break over her nervous attempt at flirting. you just hated how right she was—no one was forcing you to do this, to put up with her maddening stubbornness and save her hide time and time again. all ellie had to do was bat those ridiculously pretty greens, and your defenses crumbled.

ellie huffed, pleased with your accidental admission but now more determined to coax more from you. she shifted slightly—and that's when you felt it. the light press of her fingers against the dip of your waist, like she had just meant to steady herself but forgot to pull away. her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine. you said nothing, pretending not to notice. maybe she hadn't even meant to. you'd both insist, later, it was simply the sting of the antiseptic anyway, as if she hadn't weathered worse injuries before. neither of you moved.

ellie couldn't disguise her beaming when your strict charade allowed the gesture. she swallowed, like she was trying to decide whether to try her luck. her fingers tapped your side, hesitant.

“i think you're helping me all the time 'cause you've got a soft spot for me."

your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your neck, but you weren't about to let her win that easily. with a little head shake, you willfully regained your composure and lightly patted ellie's uninjured cheek before schooling your expression. "hush. you're being disorderly. i can't fix you up with all this blabbering."

ellie let out an exaggerated hiss, scrunching her eyes shut dramatically. your stomach clenched in brief panic, helper mode reigniting—until you realized she was full of shit, twisting her head like she'd been mortally wounded when, in reality, you had barely touched her.

"you're impossible," you muttered, smacking her good arm lightly in playful retaliation. "your life is in my hands. don't forget that." ellie leaned forward just enough to close the space between you, her voice dropping. "yeah, yeah, and every time i show up like this, i'm choosing to put my trust in you."

she wavered briefly, then added, softer still—only brave enough to say it now because she was already committed to the bit—"and that’s also why you won’t look at me."

you froze, and the second you met her gaze, it was over—long lashes framing those round green eyes, a smattering of freckles, some loose auburn strands that had escaped her barely-held-together bun sticking to her skin from the leftover sweat of patrol. with scraped skin and blood-streaked face, ellie was a proper mess—and yet, here you were, fighting every aching urge screaming at you to throw yourself on top of her.

you swallowed hard. the unassuming, bashful, loserish ellie was nowhere to be found. replaced by an ellie probably still riding the adrenaline of her close call with a horde of infected earlier, caring a little less about the consequences of her words and even further fueled by your easily cracked stoicism.

ellie seized your defeated, flustered silence to keep going. "also, as my nurse, i'm surprised you don't know the best cure for any injury."

you inhaled to brace for whatever nonsense was about to come out of her mouth. "oh, yeah? what's that?"

".....a kiss."

a drawn-out groan escaped you. "jesus," you muttered, cheeks burning. but fine—just this once. you weren't giving in completely, but you leaned in, pressing a fleeting peck to the tip of her nose.

the way ellie's face immediately split into a stupidly giddy grin was almost worth it. almost. her whole expression flushed a rosy pink, too.

"oh, on the nose? that barely counts," ellie teased, her voice dipping into something softer, more expectant. definitely hoping she hadn’t pushed her luck too much.

"deal with it, williams," you murmured, but your mind was already betraying you.

despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would be like if you really gave in. if you disregarded all medical safety and climbed into her lap and kissed her senseless, letting your hands explore each other in desperation and recklessly savoring the taste of metallic red left on her soft lips.

snapping yourself from that less-than-holy thought, you deflected under the guise of needing to retrieve more supplies for another small cut you had overlooked.

when you came back, ellie was still watching you, something unreadable in her expression. you hesitated for a moment, then finally gave her a little glimmer of hope to cling to.

"tell you what," you started. "don't be an idiot—which i know is hard for you—and let everything heal," you let the jab sit for a second to build suspense, "and i’ll grant you the other half of that kiss."

ellie's smile widened triumphantly, though her posture was beginning to laze as exhaustion from the day's chaos caught up with her.

"anything for the nurse."

"yeah, yeah. now hold still so i can finish fixing you up."

and, for once, ellie williams actually listened. pic creds @/elliesgalaxy

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie tlou2 #lesbian #wlw post #the last of us 2

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supernatural-bias · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

#xmen #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen x y/n #wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #peter maximoff #mystique #charles xavier #x reader #one shot

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seungsluv · 3 months ago

Text

collision

── .✦ content warning : SMUT! MDI!! fem!reader; mentions of drugs; weed; handcuffs; flirting; dubcon (?); explicit sex; kinda enemies to lovers but in a silly girly pop way;

✮⋆˙ pairing: dealer jisung × fem!reader

✮⋆˙ word count: 8,9k

✮⋆˙ synopsis: you were suffering from the pressure of needing to be perfect, so you reached for jisung's help, turns out he helped you in a different way.

✮⋆˙ A/N: heyy!! so... I had this idea and decided to write it! this is my first post and English is not my first language so pls be gentle ;) if you enjoyed it pls reblog and lmk what you think!! ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

Han Jisung was a disaster — no doubt about it. That messy black hair, that lean but strong body, and that infuriating attitude... But despite everything, Jisung was weird. He always had his headphones on, wore band tees no one knew, and had that distant look in his eyes. Being seen with him could ruin my reputation. So I buried that dark desire — that twisted balance between playing the good girl and craving the loser.

That was six months ago.

Back then, I was considered perfect. Perfect daughter. Perfect student. Perfect girlfriend. But I wasn’t. Or at least, I didn’t feel that way. The pressure they put on me constantly made me question whether all that perfection was real or just a well-constructed mask. Perfection was suffocating. And while I was trying to escape this, I ended up getting close to him.

I was leaning against the wall outside the biology classroom, waiting for the bell to ring. I wanted to find a discreet way to approach Jisung without anyone noticing. When the bell rang, he walked out – eyes down, headphones on, as always. I deliberately bumped into his shoulder, slipping a folded note into his hand, and kept walking as if nothing had happened.

As I walked away, face blank like a well-rehearsed mask, he, on the other hand, took one second too long staring at the crumpled paper in his hand, frowning with that confused expression he always made when something didn’t go as planned. The note said something simple, direct, but impossible to ignore:

"Behind the school. Today. No questions."

And he showed up.

When the final bell rang, I was already behind the schocolate – that hidden corner everyone avoided. The wait felt like forever. It was only when you heard the familiar, off-key roar of his van that your body, against your will, reacted with a jolt of anxiety. I bit my lip, annoyed at myself. He stopped the vehicle and rolled down the window with lazy slowness. His eyes scanned me with an expression that mixed curiosity and disbelief.

“You wanted to talk to me?” he asked, like it was the most unlikely thing in the world, ‘cause it was.

I crossed my arms, keeping my posture firm, even though my heart was racing.

“I hope you can keep this between us.” I walked around, sliding into the passenger seat without waiting for an invitation.

Jisung turned in his seat to face me, one eyebrow raised.

“Okay… that was intense.” He smirked, a little surprised, a little amused. “Planning a kidnapping?”

I let out a short, dry laugh. “If I wanted to kidnap someone, it’d be someone more useful.”

He genuinely laughed this time. A light sound, like he didn’t care about the provocation. I hated that about him. The way he seemed immune to my acidity.

“Touché. So, Ice Queen, what do you want?”

“Drugs.” I said it bluntly, keeping my gaze on the window as if that way would make it all less ridiculous.

“What?” He coughed slightly. “You want… drugs?”

I sighed, turning my face to look at him.

“What did I write in the note? No questions, Jisung. Just drive.”

He let out a muffled laugh when he noticed me glancing around nervously.

“No one saw you, relax. If they had, I think they’d be at the gates with torches and pitchforks by now.”

The drive was quiet, except for some punk band playing softly on the van's radio. In the passenger seat, you tried to pretend I was in control. Jisung, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease — one of those qualities that irritated and intrigued me in equal measure.

The van rumbled on for a few more minutes until he said:

“Huh. Funny. I always thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you. I just avoid socializing. Especially with people who are better at it than I am.” My voice came out more honest than I meant it to.

He shot me a quick glance.

“Was that… almost a compliment?”

“More like a ‘don’t piss me off.’”

“Fair enough.” He smiled, eyes back on the road.

Arriving at his place, I walked in without hesitation, my eyes scanning the chaos. Nothing really surprised me: mess, the smell of old wood, cheap incense, weed, and forgotten microwave pizza created a weirdly cozy atmosphere.

“Make yourself at home… or stand there judging my lifestyle, if you prefer,” he said, walking to his room with his hands in his pockets. “Though I should warn you, standing’s way less comfortable.”

I scoffed but sat on the edge of the couch, fingers tapping your leg.

“What is it you actually want?”

“Something to make me stop thinking so much, to turn my brain off. A sedative, a downer… anything to shut my mind up.”

He hesitated. For the first time, he seemed to really see me. Not just with his eyes, but with actual attention.

“...You okay?” he asked.

“No. But I didn’t come here to talk about that,” I answered, cutting it short.

Jisung disappeared down the hallway, and I followed him into the room, watching as he pulled out a kid’s lunch box full of pills, baggies, and lighters. I walked closer, glancing around. His room was the perfect reflection of him: cozy chaos. Posters of indie bands, old video games, a guitar in the corner, and… handcuffs hanging from the closet door.

Seriously, Jisung?

I approached, twirling the cuffs on my forefinger.

“Do you like being tied up or tying others up?” I asked, laughing, but he turned serious.

“Wanna find out?” he replied with a crooked smile, making me freeze for a second.

I hadn’t expected him to fire back. I put the cuffs down, pretending to be indifferent.

He stood up, showing me two bags of pills.

“Let’s see… I have diazepam… lorazepam…” He slowly looked at me. “... Do you even know what these are?”

I didn’t answer right away, but the silence spoke for itself.

“You’ve never used anything, have you, sweetheart?” He said in a tone that was almost… gentle.

I crossed my arms. “What if I have?” I tried to sound confident.

“You’d be asking differently.” He smiled, not mockingly, almost kindly. Almost.

There was a pause where he just watched you. His dark eyes scanned you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Want to try something lighter?” he asked, picking a smaller bag. “Weed. Natural. No mixing. I promise you won’t be seeing unicorns… unless you want to.”

I rolled my eyes.

“How much?”

“On the house, princess. Just this once.”

“Can you roll one?”

“Of course.” He pointed to himself. “Full service. I accept silent gratitude.”

I sat beside him, watching as he ground the weed and rolled with practiced ease. It was ridiculous how even this he did so calmly, like he had all the time in the world. I noticed his fingers, his rings, the way he bit his bottom lip while licking the paper to seal the joint.

“Are you gonna just watch or want to learn?” He asked, handing me the joint. I tried, failed and coughed. He laughed.

“Breathe in slowly. Like this.” He was surprisingly patient.

After a few hits, I started to feel lighter, my thoughts quieter. We stayed silent, passing the joint between us, sitting side by side. As the high settled in, the silence between you two shifted — lighter. I looked at the ceiling, then at him.

“Are you always like this?” I asked without thinking, my voice low, a little slurred from the joint still burning between my fingers.

“Like what?” He didn’t look at me right away — just stared at the ceiling like the answer might be written there.

“I don’t know… comfortable with everything. Like nothing affects you.”

He gave a soft chuckle, lips curling around the smoke before exhaling it toward the fan in the corner that barely moved.

“Honestly? I just look like it. I adapted.” He paused, eyes drifting lazily toward mine. “It’s easier to laugh at the mess than get stuck in it.”

I turned my head to look at him, eyes half-lidded. “That's… deep. Wow.” I said, mockingly impressed, taking the joint from his fingers.

He smiled, already expecting the sarcasm.

“Trust me, I hate myself when I say shit like that too.”

We both laughed, and this time the sound didn’t feel so strange coming from me. It cracked something in the air — something that had been stiff and loaded a few minutes ago.

I looked back at the ceiling. The shadows danced there, soft and slow, as if the room had its own heartbeat.

“I think I’m the opposite,” I murmured. “Everyone thinks I’m holding it all together. But really, I’m just duct-taped perfection over a panic attack.”

He glanced at me again, a little longer this time. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” I paused. “But it keeps people off my back.”

“You ever think about letting it fall apart? Just once?”

I let the smoke sit in my lungs a second too long.

“Yeah. I just never thought I’d do it in your bed.”

That made him laugh — loud, genuine, surprised.

“Well,” he said, voice rough from both the weed and the honesty, “if you’re gonna fall apart, might as well do it somewhere messy.”

I looked at him. Not the stoner loser everyone avoided. Not the cocky idiot who flirted like a dare. Just… him. A little ruined. A little sharp around the edges. Real.

And weirdly, I liked that.

“Why do you sell this stuff?” I asked suddenly, not really expecting an answer — just trying to keep the silence from swallowing me whole.

He didn’t look at me. Just stared at the ceiling like it was a question too.

“Because it pays the bills. Because it’s easier than getting a real job. Because it gives me an excuse to meet people who’d never talk to me otherwise.”

I turned my head to look at him. “Like me?”

He smiled, soft and slow. “Exactly.”

I smiled back — barely — and passed the joint back to him.

“Why did you want to stop thinking?” he asked, voice gentler now. “Too much in your head?”

I hesitated. He wasn’t pushing. Just waiting. His eyes didn’t feel demanding. They felt… safe. Still stupidly high, but safe.

“I don’t know,” I said eventually. “I just thought it could help. Everything’s always too loud. Like I have to be perfect. For everyone. All the time.”

He was looking at me now. Really looking. His gaze steady, focused, like I was saying something worth hearing.

And maybe for the first time in a while… I felt heard. I felt seen.

I sighed, the words spilling before I could stop them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been a natural. At anything. I just try, try and try. And fake it. And force it. I don’t even remember what it feels like to be myself. Whoever that is. I change everything about me — the way I speak, the way I look, the way I breathe — just to fit into places I don’t even like. Just to make people think I’m what they want me to be. And in the end… I’m not anyone.”

The silence that followed stretched a little too long. Long enough for me to regret saying it. I opened my mouth, already preparing to brush it off, to laugh it away like everything else.

But he beat me to it.

“Damn. That was deep.” He blinked, his voice low. “How does your brain sound so poetic and miserable at the same time?”

I laughed — mostly out of relief. “It’s a Taylor Swift lyric, actually.”

“Oh fuck me,” he groaned. “You do look like the type.”

“Uhm? Thank you?” I narrowed my eyes.

“It wasn’t a compliment.

“Go fuck yourself, then.

“I could never fuck myself after talking about Taylor Swift. That’s irreversible damage.”

“You’re ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

He laughed, of course. Like he was proud of annoying me. “I know, I know. We all have our flaws, right?”

“Is yours being insufferable?” I muttered, annoyed but not moving away.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

His voice was softer now. His eyelids heavy. Those stupid round brown eyes blinking slowly like the universe had finally stopped spinning.

I didn’t answer. Just turned back to the ceiling and let the silence settle over us again.

But this time… it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like a pause between two people who finally dropped the act. Like the kind of silence you don’t want to fill — because for once, it’s enough.

The high still lingered. Everything felt slower, softer, louder. My body was still buzzing in places I hadn’t known could buzz. And then reality crept in.

“Fuck, I don’t think that was as pure as you said,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-panicking, my head sinking deeper into the pillow. My heart was still beating like it hadn’t gotten the memo we were done.

He laughed too, breathless, his chest rising slowly next to mine. “I did warn you. You were just too busy being terrifying to listen.”

I closed my eyes, let the afterglow mix with the haze still hanging in my bloodstream. Everything felt soft around the edges — too warm, too quiet, too... peaceful.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, not turning to look at me.

“Good,” I said before I could second-guess it. And then quieter: “For the first time in a long time.”

He was quiet for a second. Then: “You should smile like that more. Without thinking.”

I turned my head toward him, surprised. There was no sarcasm in his voice. Just that calm, low softness he rarely used — like he was saying something real and didn’t want to scare it off.

“You’re not what I thought,” I said, honestly, before I could stop myself.

He finally looked at me. Eyes heavy, but sharp. “What did you think I was?”

“Just another weirdo with no sense,” I smirked.

“Fair.”

“And now?” He asked, still watching me like I might disappear.

I rolled onto my side, propped my head on my arm. “Still a weirdo. But… a cool one.”

He smiled — lopsided and slow — and looked back at the ceiling like it had something to say about us.

“You’re pretty different from what I imagined too,” he said. “Always thought you were boring. Uptight. The perfect girl with the perfect answers.” He paused, eyes still on the ceiling. “But now I think you were just acting the part. For everyone else.”

I didn’t respond right away. Because he wasn’t wrong. And because hearing someone see you like that — so simply — was more intimate than anything.

“Maybe,” I murmured, voice low. “Maybe I was just waiting for a reason to stop.”

He turned to face me again. Not smiling now. Just looking.

“And was I a good enough reason?”

I didn’t answer. Just reached out, pulled the blanket up around us both, and settled back into the silence. Not because I didn’t have anything to say. But because for once, I didn’t need to explain myself. And he didn’t ask again.

The room felt slower now. The smoke had faded, the high turning to a thick, sleepy calm. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of everything still hovering between us.

Just before drifting off, I heard him whisper, like a secret he hadn’t decided to keep or not: “If you ever want to stop pretending again… come back.”

I didn’t move. Just let the words settle somewhere inside me, warm and dangerous. “I might,” I murmured, barely audible. “If you promise not to fall in love with me.”

He huffed a laugh, sleepy and soft. “Too late.”

I covered my eyes with my arm, still too high to function properly. Everything felt like it was floating — the walls, the sheets, even the weight in my chest.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” My voice came out hoarse, like I had borrowed someone else’s mouth. I didn’t mean it as a plea. It was just the truth.

He didn’t hesitate. “It’s okay. You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”

That made me lift my arm and look at him. His face was flushed from the heat, the high, the... everything. His hair was messy, the way it always looked better after being ruined.

“You can sleep here,” I said, more tired than bold. “I don’t take up much space.”

He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he looked at me — actually looked. Not with lust. With something warmer. Softer. “Don’t know if I’ll survive being next to you all night.”

I frowned, confused. “What?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You get incredibly dumb when you’re high,” He said through a laugh, laying back on the bed.

I blinked at him, trying to process whether I was offended or amused.

Probably both.

I sat up slowly, the blanket I forgot it was around me slipping off my shoulder. The cold air hit my skin, and I shivered without meaning to. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

He looked away for a second, almost shy, which was ridiculous coming from a guy who had just heard me yapping about my life problems.

“I didn’t mind. Still don’t.” Then, quieter: “That’s the problem.”

We fell into silence again. But it wasn’t awkward. It sat between us like a third body — warm, sleepy, honest.

The mattress dipped slightly as I leaned back beside him. My shoulder brushed his. Neither of us moved. He tilted his head toward me. “Do you always let people get this close?”

I shrugged. “I don’t let people do anything. They just don’t try.”

He nodded like that made perfect sense. Maybe, at that moment, it did. “Well… I’m here. Not going anywhere. At least not tonight.”

I looked at him — really looked — and for the first time, I didn’t feel the need to push back.

We lay down, not touching, but close enough to feel each other’s heat. The ceiling stared back at us. The fan clicked in the corner. The air was thick with silence — the kind that meant something had shifted.

And it had.

That’s when he leaned in, face close to mine. Close enough to piss me off, but not enough to do anything about it. Typical.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was low, slow — like asking was just part of the performance. Like he didn’t already know I’d let him. He didn’t move. Just stayed there, torturing me with his breath and that look, like he was waiting for me to cave.

“You planning on kissing me, or just starting a staring contest?” The taste of the joint still clung to my tongue — bitter and sweet. Just like him.

He gave me that infuriating little smirk — the kind only people annoyingly sure of themselves wear. “You’re surprisingly composed for someone who almost coughed up a lung ten minutes ago.”

“I can still faint.” I run my finger through his hair. “Just not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He swallowed — and yeah, I saw that. Saw him trying to play it cool.

“What’s the hold-up? Need a signed permission slip from God or something?”

He laughed, short and smug. “Didn’t think golden girls kissed before marriage.”

“Guess I’m overdue for a little sin.”

The kiss came fast, no warning. It was messy, off-balance, hot — everything a kiss should be when you’re too high and too pissed off to care. His mouth tasted like weed and disaster, and I held onto that.

He bit my lip, deliberately, and when a moan slipped out of me, he pulled back just to gloat.

“Ms. Perfect moans? Didn't have that on my bingo card.”

“If you're done being proud of yourself, you could try using your hands.”

He didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to my waist, gripping like he meant it — rough, grounded, like he wanted to leave proof I’d been there. No gentleness. No question marks. Just skin and pressure and ownership without the label.

Everything slowed. His breath on my neck. The scratch of fabric. The way the mattress dipped under us. I felt all of it. Every tiny fucking thing. He pulled back just a bit, eyes half-lidded, mouth flushed.

“You kiss like someone who skips church and lies about it.”

“I kiss like someone who’s been pretending to be okay her whole life.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Aww. Miss Perfection’s cracking?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just the nearest distraction.”

“Right. Because clearly I’m a huge threat to your emotional repression.”

I sighed, tired of performing even when I was pissed.

“Tired of your perfect life, huh?” He muttered, in that voice that drips sarcasm like venom.

“Perfect for who? My mom, who thinks good grades equal happiness? The teachers who treat me like a walking GPA? The ex who thought he had me figured out because he bought me coffee and pretended to like indie rock?” I stared at him, deadpan. “I fake it. That’s all I do. Because that’s what they expect. But inside, I’m always one second away from setting everything on fire. They just don’t see it — because I smile pretty.” I gave him a skeptical face.

He didn’t say anything. But the look in his eyes changed. Less mockery. More weight. Like he’d finally caught on.

But I didn’t let the silence turn into something dramatic.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “You’re not special. You were just nobody — in a good way — and that’s exactly why I picked you.”

He smiled. This time, not smug. Just… understanding. Like he saw the mess and didn’t mind sitting in it with me.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling like the weight in my chest didn’t just get louder.

“God, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” My tone was dry, flat, like armor. “Careful. You almost look like you give a shit.”

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered.

“You say that like you didn’t just pour your trauma out on my face five minutes after sucking it.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then added, quieter — but not soft: “Maybe I do give a shit. So what? You gonna run or insult me again?”

I leaned in slightly, eyes locked on his like I was about to expose another one of his carefully hidden flaws.

“Run? Please.” I smirked. “Why would I run from a guy who gets emotionally attached after one blowjob?”

His mouth opened like he had something to say — but nothing came out. I watched the hesitation flicker behind his eyes. It only made my grin sharper.

“Relax. I won’t ruin your reputation. Your secret's safe with me, Romeo.”

He blinked, half offended, half aroused. And for a second, he looked like he might kiss me just to shut me up. Which, honestly, would only make things worse for him — and for me.

I tilted my head.

“Unless you want me to be gentle now. Is that it?”

He let out a dry laugh, no real humor in it — just teeth. “You really don’t know how to shut up, do you?”

I raised an eyebrow, daring him to keep going. He leaned closer, too close, eyes dark and sharp. “You talk like you’re untouchable. Like none of this means anything.” He scoffed.

“But if I kissed you right now, you’d fall apart in my hands again, and we both know it.”

My breath caught, just for a second — and he saw it. Of course he did.

“Go ahead. Prove me wrong,” He added, voice low, taunting. “But you won’t. Because you liked it. You liked not pretending for once.

He was close enough now that I could feel the tension between us crackling — not soft, not romantic. Charged. Dangerous. “So go on, princess. Say something clever.”

I kissed him like I was trying to silence everything. My doubts. My anger. The noise in my head that never shut up.

His mouth was warm and reckless, matching mine. It wasn’t about sweetness — it was need.

"You really have no idea what you're asking for," I whispered against his lips, already breathless.

"Oh. I do." His hands slid to my back, and I hated how easily he made me forget myself.

For a second, I pulled away, just enough to look at him. “What exactly makes you think I'm worth your time?” I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm.

He smirked, clearly amused. “Because, unlike you, I don’t overthink everything.”

That answer shouldn’t have worked. But it did. Because deep down, I was tired of being the girl people expected — and he wasn’t expecting anything. He was just there, wild and flawed and irritatingly real.

I took a deep breath and let it all go. The fear, the rules, the performance.

And then I kissed him again — not for escape this time, but to finally feel something that was mine.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and crashed my mouth against his, hard. No hesitation, no softness. I kissed him like I wanted to hurt him. Like I wanted to erase every version of myself that had played by the rules. My teeth caught his bottom lip, and I didn’t care when I tasted blood — or maybe it was mine.

He let out a surprised sound, something between a groan and a laugh, but I didn’t give him room to speak. My hands tangled in his hair, yanking just enough to make his breath hitch. His fingers had started to slide to my hips, but I pinned them down against the bed cushion.

“Not yet” I whispered, hovering over his lips, breathless.

His eyes widened slightly, dark and glazed, the kind of look that begged. But I wasn’t here to beg.

I kissed him again, slower this time, dragging it out. My tongue moved against his like I was learning him, claiming him. Every touch was deliberate. Every second, I felt more alive — like my skin was buzzing under the weight of control. The power shift was electric. He melted into it, into me, and I loved that. Loved the way he stopped trying to take over. Loved that he let me burn.

When I finally pulled back, his lips were red, slightly swollen, his breath uneven.

“Holy shit,” He muttered, dazed.

“What is it? You like being bossed around or something?” I said, voice low and steady.

He smiled, something lazy and reverent in it. “Ah yes, ma’am.”

He said “Yes, ma’am”, and that should’ve broken the tension — turned it into a joke. But it didn’t. It just made something snap inside me.

My fingers gripped his jaw. “You talk too much.”

His breath hitched, eyes flicking down to my mouth again. “And yet, you’re still here.”

I kissed him again, rougher this time. My hand slid under his shirt, nails scraping skin, earning a sharp gasp. I smiled against his lips — a wicked smile, one that tasted like control.

“You’re kind of terrifying when you’re like this.” He said panting.

“Don't act like you don't like it.”

I pulled his shirt over his head in one move, not caring when it caught on his elbow again. He laughed, stupid and breathless. I saw the skinny body, the chest marked by old acne scars and a poorly done tattoo that looked like an alien holding a guitar.

I shoved him backward until he fell onto the bed with a soft thud. I stood over him for a second, breathing heavily, eyes dragging down his chest, down to that ridiculous tattoo.

“Is that an alien tattoo?” I asked, staring at the deformed figure on his shoulder.

“It's a rocker alien. Done by a drunk friend.”

“That’s even worse up close” I said, smirking.

“I was drunk. And fifteen.”

“You’re still an idiot.”

“You're terrible at foreplay.”

“And you're terrible at tattoo choices.”

“And yet you're on top of me in my bed. Paradoxical. “And you’re still fully dressed. Which seems unfair, considering how bossy you are.” He emphasizes.

“You don’t get to make demands. Just lay there and shut up.”

And he did.

I was still on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, hands pressed flat against his chest. He looked like he was about to say something, then hesitated. I raised an eyebrow.

"Gonna speak, or just keep drooling?"

He laughed, breathless, that dazed look still in his eyes.

"It’s just... I didn’t expect this from you."

"Didn’t expect what?" I leaned in closer, my hair falling to one side, my lips almost brushing his. "That I’m more than a perfect little checklist?"

"I expected you to be perfect. Untouchable. Annoying." He smiled, but there was something honest behind it. "Now I just think you’re dangerous. In the best possible way."

I let out a low laugh and bit the corner of his mouth, just enough to make him flinch.

"So you’ve got taste after all." My hand slid down to the waistband of his jeans, slow and deliberate. "And what if I really am dangerous?"

"You are." He closed his eyes for a second, inhaling sharply. "But I’ve never wanted to get hurt this badly."

I paused, watching him — vulnerable, breathless, completely mine, and not because I forced it.

He laid back, watching me with that maddening mix of curiosity and anticipation. I could feel his breath catching even though he tried to look relaxed.

He wasn’t.

Not anymore.

I slid my sweater uniform off in one slow movement, not to tease — not exactly — but to make sure he saw me. Not just my body, but the choice. That I was there because I wanted to be.

His gaze darkened the second my shirt hit the floor. I watched him watching me. His chest rising a little too fast, lips slightly parted. I didn’t rush. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my skirt and let it slide down my legs.

“Holy shit,” He muttered, leaning back on his elbows and straing, like the words escaped without permission.

“Don’t talk,” I warned. “Just watch.”

I stepped out of the skirt and unclasped my bra, tossing it carelessly at his face. He caught it with one hand but didn’t dare break eye contact. Not once.

“You still hide all this under that ridiculous uniform?” He asked, voice low, rough.

“Guess I like zero expectations.”

He grinned, but it was shaky — off balance.

Good. I wanted him undone. I wanted him unprepared.

I straddled him slowly, letting my thighs press against his semi hard erection, my hands on his chest. I felt his heart beating wild under my palms.

“Still think you’re in control?” I whispered.

“I surrender,” He breathed, eyes locked on mine. “Completely.”

I leaned down, letting my lips brush his, but not giving him the kiss. Not yet. “You should.”

Then I kissed him again — deeper this time. Slower. And everything else fell away. The noise. The rules. The fear. There was only heat, skin, and the sound of him falling apart under me.

But then his grip on my hips tightened—no hesitation this time. In one swift motion, he rolled us over, his body pressing me down into the mattress. His thigh slid between mine, grinding up deliberately, and the friction pulled a soft gasp from my throat. I arched instinctively, and he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. The other traced down my side, painfully slow.

“You were saying something about control?” he murmured against my neck, lips brushing skin already too warm.

I let out a low breath, the air suddenly heavier.

“Too much for surrender,” I muttered.

He smiled, dark and slow. “Changed my mind.”

I smirked, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. His lips were just a breath away, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a kiss — not yet. His gaze was so intense, like he was lost in me, unsure whether to give in or keep fighting.

I let out a low chuckle, voice sharp with irony. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m indulging you.”

The air thickened between us, charged with frustration and desire. His eyes flickered, losing some of that confident control he’d tried to hold onto, his body betraying him as he hovered, waiting.

“Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to do something useful with your mouth?”

He didn’t answer. He just went down, using tongue and teeth. Not subtle at all. Every lick was a challenge, every bite a warning. And I felt alive. Burning. His hands and lips explored me with almost frantic curiosity, as if he couldn't believe the realness of the moment. Each touch felt like an electric current, sending shocks of pleasure through me.

He slid my panties off slowly, his finger brushing up my leg, tracing the length of my thigh before finally reaching the place he knew would make me tremble. He paused there, his face hovering between my legs, just looking. For far too long. His gaze was like fire, but he didn’t move, didn’t touch.

“Are you going to pray or...?” I teased, voice barely a whisper, the air thick with anticipation.

“I’m just admiring the miracle,” he replied, his voice husky, barely controlled. “Trying to understand how the straight-A student turned into this apocalyptic vision of desire in my bed.”

“The weed is hitting hard, isn’t it?” I smirked, my body humming with the need for more, but I wanted him to keep looking, to stay in this moment of uncertainty.

“It’s hitting everything,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving me. There was a hunger in them now, darker than before.

I let out a cynical sigh, rolling my hips slightly in impatience. And then, finally, he moved. His tongue touched me, tentative at first, exploring, but it didn’t take long for his curiosity to turn into something deeper. The strokes were slow but purposeful, the heat of his breath mingling with mine. His tongue found my spot, and though there was no finesse, no delicate dance — it was enough. The rawness of it, the hunger in his touch, was almost overwhelming.

I moaned loudly, a mix of pleasure and disbelief. And then, somehow, I couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of it all, the way he looked so lost, so desperate, trying to keep his composure while devouring me like a man starved for far too long.

“Don’t laugh, damn it.” He groaned, frustration making his grip on my hips tighten. His fingers dug into my skin as he held me still, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

“It’s just that you look like a hungry dog discovering that food exists,” I teased, my voice barely a whisper between the breaths. I could see the shift in his eyes, a mix of irritation and amusement. But his mouth didn’t stop moving.

He raised his face from between my legs, lips glistening, and his eyes were darker now, a challenge in them, but there was something more — almost as if he didn’t know how far he could push before I broke.

He hesitated, his breath ragged, but I didn’t give him time to recover. I grabbed his hair, tugging hard, pulling him back to me, needing more, feeling the fire between us burn too hot to ignore.

“Ah… damn, Jisung…” My voice cracked with the intensity, my body arching up, unable to stay still any longer.

“Now we’re talking,” He grinned against my heat, his voice thick with satisfaction, but there was a warning in it too. “The saint knows how to curse.”

He didn't stop. His hands moved to my hips, holding me firmly as he kissed his way back down, his mouth now more determined, more insistent. Every movement was calculated, controlled, but the hunger behind it was undeniable. His grip tightened on my hips, pulling me harder against him, each stroke of his tongue sending shocks of pleasure through me, igniting every nerve.

His free hand slid down, fingers dragging over the curve of my ass like he was memorizing the shape, before gripping my hips harder — tight enough to bruise. He pulled me even closer, like the space between us was unacceptable. His mouth stayed locked on me, relentless, like he had no intention of letting me breathe, let alone think.

His pace quickened, tongue moving with a hunger that felt personal, almost angry. I could barely keep up. My legs trembled, my entire body shaking with a need that felt like it might rip me apart from the inside.

I fisted his hair tighter, yanking him closer with no shame, my voice coming out in a raw, broken whisper. “Don’t stop…”

It was more of a threat than a plea.

I arched off the bed, hips grinding into his face, needing more friction, more pressure — more. His tongue worked in rhythm with the movements I forced on him, each glide of his nose and teeth sending shocks straight through me. I whimpered, the sound helpless and filthy, echoing through the room like something sacred being ruined.

“Fuck, please, Ji…”

The moment his name slipped out like that — cracked and needy — he moaned into me. The vibration made me jerk, thighs snapping around his head like a vice, trapping him there. I didn’t care. He didn’t complain.

His tongue slid in and out, slower now, teasing, dragging me along the edge on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing — and he liked that I was unraveling for it.

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling, clutching — like if I let go, I’d fall apart completely.

Then suddenly, he stopped. Just pulled away.

“No—” I groaned, frustrated, chasing his mouth with my hips. But he was already rising, his face slick, flushed, lips swollen. His eyes caught mine.

They were wild. Dark. And annoyingly satisfied. Like he’d just won something.

His mouth glistened, and there was that damn look again — not just lust, but *pride*. Like he liked seeing me like this: desperate, wrecked, and still trying to act like I wasn’t.

And the worst part?

He was right.

“Want to continue?” he asked, like he didn’t already know the answer. Like he wasn’t reading it right off my face.

“If you stop now, I’ll kill you.”

He practically tripped over himself getting his pants off, stumbling like a drunk idiot, nearly face-planting off the bed. I couldn’t help it — I laughed.

“Sexy. Super sexy.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, crawling back up and pinning me down with his full weight, his hands braced on either side of my head. “You talk too much.”

“And you take too long.”

Our bodies moved like they’d had this conversation before — long before we ever did. Like this rhythm had always been waiting, just under the surface. We didn’t need to find it. We were already in it.

The condom appeared, wrinkled and half-lost in the mess of clothes and blankets. Even stoned, with our fingers barely cooperating, we managed. Barely.

“You took so long I thought you were impotent.”

“I just didn’t want to scare the princess with the size.”

“Hmm. More like the economy version.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

He bit down on my shoulder with a laugh — muffled, breathy — and then he pushed in all at once, not gentle, not slow. Just full contact. No hesitation.

I gasped — loud, sharp — and gripped the sheets like they might keep me grounded. But they didn’t. Nothing did.

The weed made everything stretch. Every sensation melted into the next — the drag of skin, the burn of stretch, the electric crackle in my stomach. Every second felt soaked in heat. My brain couldn’t keep up with my body. I didn’t care.

He started slow, almost hesitant, like he was still mapping out how we fit. But his eyes didn’t leave mine — wide, dark, blown-out with something between awe and disbelief.

Like he couldn’t figure out how we got here.

Each thrust landed heavier than the last, turning pain into pleasure fast — too fast — and I welcomed the burn. It made everything else shut up.

“You’re looking at me again.”

“It’s just that… you’re fucking beautiful.”

He panted.

“Even with that face like you’re gonna kill me after.”

“I probably will.”

His rhythm picked up — sloppy, intense, all heat and friction. Our skin stuck together with sweat, the sound of it obscene in the room. Every push sent a wave up my spine. Every time he bottomed out, I felt a piece of me melt into his.

It wasn’t tender. It was needy. Like we were using each other to survive something neither of us could name.

My nails raked down his back. I didn’t hold back. I wanted him to feel it tomorrow.

He laughed, shaky, breath hot against my cheek.

“Marking territory?”

“Trying to erase your questionable past.”

He thrust harder after that, like he took it personally. Good. I wanted him to.

We moved without coordination — a mess of hips and mouths and limbs. High. Sticky. Laughing between moans. No elegance, just raw want. The kind of sex that’s louder than it should be and too much and still never enough.

“This is so wrong,” I whispered, almost laughing.

“So right,” he replied, panting against my lips, his breath unsteady. “You should’ve come after me earlier.”

“I would’ve… if you weren’t so you.”

He laughed — then choked on it when I clawed down his back again.

He pushed deeper, harder, every thrust punching the air out of my lungs, driving me deeper into the mattress. My body locked around him, tight and slick and restless. I couldn’t find my voice anymore — just gasps, broken syllables, half-formed curses.

He groaned into my neck, his mouth sliding down, trailing heat, teeth scraping over my skin. Then he found my breast, and sucked hard, messy, desperate — like he was trying to brand me with his mouth. I arched, sharp and instinctive, grinding against him, my hips searching for more, even when there was nothing left to take.

Our rhythm had collapsed into chaos — not smooth, not perfect. But real.

It was a high all on its own.

We changed positions amidst laughter and stumbles, nearly falling off the bed in the process. Our limbs tangled, breathless and high, like we were trying to outrun gravity. He pulled me from behind, hands gripping my waist tight — too tight — like he was afraid I’d slip away if he didn’t hold on with everything he had.

Our hips collided with that same obscene rhythm — raw, wet, uncoordinated, but so good. The kind of rhythm that wasn’t about beauty. It was about need.

“You moan so beautifully I should record this,” he said, voice thick with ego and breath.

“You should shut up before I kick you out of your own bed.”

His breath hit the back of my neck, hot and sticky. Then one of his hands slid between my thighs — fingers bold, confident, slipping between folds slick with everything we were. He found my spot like he’d been there before in a dream, pressing just right, just enough to steal my balance.

“Fuck, just like that…” I gasped, breath hitching hard. My body lurched forward as he worked me with his fingers, the rhythm between us turning rougher, messier.

“The saint is becoming a heretic.”

“Shut up and make me come.”

I barely recognized my own voice. It was too raw, too exposed.

“This is good, right?”

He was panting now, voice hoarse, hands gripping my hips tighter, dragging me back into him harder, faster.

“Of course. I’m just waiting for you to put in a little more effort.”

That did it. His grip shifted, and suddenly he pulled me upright, his arm tight around my torso, forcing me to sit on top of him. It wasn’t gentle. It was possessive. Fast. Almost clumsy in his rush to feel me again in a different way.

I settled on him easily, like I belonged there. Our bodies aligned in seconds, and he slipped back inside — hot, hard, perfect. My hips rolled instinctively, slow at first, dragging over him with measured pressure.

He looked stunned — wide-eyed, flushed, lips parted — like he didn’t expect it to feel *this* good. That made me smile. I leaned in, letting my breath graze his ear.

“At this point, just admit you like me being in control.”

He didn’t flinch. Just stared — glassy-eyed, helpless under me.

“I like how you feel in charge,” he muttered.

“It’s like… you actually know what you're doing.”

I started to move faster, testing the rhythm, building it with each roll of my hips. I felt every twitch of him inside me, every sound he tried to swallow but couldn’t. His eyes never left my body — fixed, entranced, like watching me fall apart while holding the leash.

His thrusts were softer now, less certain, as if he was waiting — giving me room, letting me take. His hands hovered at my hips again, then clamped down, trying to slow me.

I didn’t let him.

I pressed down harder, grinding against him with more intent, chasing the friction, chasing that point where the line between pain and pleasure disappears. I was burning — thighs shaking, nerves screaming. The high made it feel like I was moving underwater, slow but unstoppable.

He tried to meet my rhythm, tried to guide it — but I wasn’t giving that up.

“What’s wrong?” I said, between breaths. “Not enjoying?”

“Of course I am,” he muttered, voice strained. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

I leaned forward, close enough to brush my mouth over his ear.

“You just hate that you like this,” I whispered, almost cruel. “I can feel you throbbing inside me.”

He groaned, broken and loud. His hands slid lower, gripping my ass, pulling me down harder. His hips began to buck up with more urgency — not enough to take over, but enough to fight back. Just barely.

The tension between us snapped taut — the balance of power shifting and pulling with every movement. Control. Surrender. Want. Pride. Everything colliding in our bodies like it had nowhere else to go.

He pushed me back onto the bed, fast and rough, like he couldn't take the lack of control anymore. My body arched with the impact, the movement pushing him deeper inside me — sharp, sudden, right. The stretch of him hit just the right spot, and I gasped, my breath catching on the way out.

He slid back in easily, as if my body had molded itself around him, the fit seamless, filthy, perfect. His hands clamped around my waist like he owned it — like he needed to hold me down just to stay grounded.

He picked up the pace. No more teasing. The thrusts were quick, relentless, each one sending shockwaves through me, making my breath come out in broken moans I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered, voice shredded, thick with need.

“Deeper.” I pull his hair again.

His gaze darkened, and the smile that curved his mouth was wicked — not playful anymore, but almost dangerous.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

And then he gave it to me.

His pace turned brutal — fast, deep, every thrust pushing the air out of me like a punch to the lungs. I could feel his muscles flex with every movement, his body grinding into mine like he couldn’t get close enough, like he wanted to disappear inside me.

I couldn’t hold myself together. Couldn’t even pretend. The pressure inside me was twisting tight, coiling with every snap of his hips, building into something that felt like it might burn me alive from the inside out.

He leaned down, his weight pressing me into the mattress, one hand gripping my hip to hold me still, the other sliding up to my chest — fingers spreading, squeezing, grounding me in the chaos.

Then, like he sensed I was right on the edge, he changed the rhythm — deeper, slower, crueler. The drag of him inside me made my eyes roll back, and I whimpered, head falling to the side, hands flying to his hair, yanking hard.

“That’s it…” I breathed, barely able to form the words. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

He laughed, but it cracked halfway through — a broken sound, desperate, strained. His rhythm faltered for a second, like he was trying to hang on, but failing beautifully.

He grabbed my thigh suddenly, pulling it up, pushing it higher until my leg was draped over his shoulder. The new angle made everything sharper, fuller, deeper. He fucked into me like the world had disappeared — like nothing existed beyond the heat of our bodies crashing, the friction, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Just moved with him, wild and instinctive, chasing that edge like I’d die if I didn’t reach it. My hands clawed at his back, his arms, whatever I could find. My mouth was open, breath shallow, moans spilling out uncontrollably.

The sound of it all — my voice breaking, his low groans, the obscene slap of our bodies — was overwhelming. And perfect. It felt like this was what my body was made for. To be here. With him. Like this.

And then he slowed.

I didn’t expect it. One moment he was pounding into me like a fucking storm, and the next — he was moving slower, deeper, every thrust long and punishing, dragging pleasure from the pit of my stomach until I couldn’t breathe. But there was nothing gentle about it.

It was control. Intensity. The kind of fucking that says I want to ruin you.

And he did.

When I came, it was with a choked, guttural moan that ripped straight from my chest — no filter, no control. My whole body convulsed, shaking underneath him as the pressure finally shattered. My nails dug into his skin, holding on for dear life.

He came right after — buried deep, panting against my neck, body twitching as he spilled inside the condom. His breath was hot against my skin, and he was smiling. That lazy, fucked-out smile that made him look half-gone, half-proud of himself.

The world was quiet after. Too quiet. The kind of silence that feels earned. Heavy with sweat, breath, and something neither of us could name.

When I turned to face him again, still dizzy, still buzzing, he was a wreck — sweat dripping down his temples, hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. He looked at me like I was a mistake he wanted to make again and again, until it didn’t feel like one anymore.

Then he collapsed onto me — heavy, warm, skin still damp, the full weight of him pressing our chests together. His breath ghosted over my collarbone, shaky and hot.

“That was…”

“…amazing.”

“Horrible.” I said at the same time as him.

“I want to do it again.”

“Me too.”

We shifted to the side, limbs tangled, our bodies still slick and stupidly close. The sheets stuck to our skin, the air smelled like weed and sex. And we laughed.

Not because anything was funny. But because we were high, and spent, and had no idea what the hell just happened.

The sex felt like a slow-motion crash — chaotic, messy, half-graceful in that stoned, instinctive way. Our bodies had found each other like magnets with no real aim, just urgency. Every movement had been clumsy and loud and *so* real. There were teeth, gasps, stupid moans, out-of-sync kisses, sweat dripping into places it didn’t belong — and none of it was perfect.

That’s what made it work. That’s what made it feel like we weren’t pretending anymore.

“I should regret this.”

“But you won’t.”

“Not today. Today I just want to forget that tomorrow I'll be succumbed to the same chaotic mediocrity.”

He rolled onto his back, one arm lazily reaching for me.

“With me, you can just be… chaotic. And naked.”

“Ideal combination.”

He pulled me closer until my cheek met his chest. His skin was still too warm, still pulsing from what we’d done. His heartbeat thumped against my ear — uneven and fast. I let myself rest there. Just for a second.

The silence between us was thick, but not awkward. More like… surrender.

“You're going to hate me tomorrow, right?” he mumbled into my hair, voice quieter now, stripped of its usual sarcasm.

“If you tell anyone, for sure.”

“Who would I tell? The tattooed alien?”

“He seems more reliable than you.”

“You’re not reliable either. You’re here. Naked. Screwing the weird kid from school.”

“Because the weird kid from school is the only one who seems real enough to really screw me.”

That shut him up for a second.

When he turned to look at me again, his eyes were red-rimmed, half-lidded from the high, and his mouth was still swollen — bitten and bruised from too much kissing. Or maybe not enough.

“If this is a dream, don’t wake me up.”

“This is a collective delusion caused by drugs and accumulated frustration.”

He smirked, but didn’t deny it. We lay there in the aftermath — sweaty, naked, exhausted — and yet completely still. No rush. No talking. Just breathing the same air like it wasn’t borrowed time.

His voice broke the quiet one last time.

“Let’s use the handcuffs next time?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just turned my face toward him slowly, one eyebrow raised, lips twitching with the threat of a smirk.

“You say that like I wasn’t already thinking about it.”

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landojpg04 · 2 months ago

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Scrubs and Squadrons//B.Floyd

Chapter One

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Doctor!Reader (Fiesty Nickname/Female and She/her pronouns) Warnings: Language, blood/injury, hospital terminology, medical setting, mild flirtation, mutual pining.

(This will be a multipart series)

Masterlist

Jake didn’t know the difference between flirting with single women and hitting on those in relationships. That’s how he and his friends ended up in the emergency room at midnight on a Friday.

In the waiting room sat Jake with ice pressed to his nose, Mickey with a cold rag over his eye, Reuben nursing a split lip, and Bob pressing a blood-soaked rag to a nasty cut on his forearm. Natasha, who had driven them, sat at the far end of the room, clearly displeased. If it hadn’t been for Bob’s cut, she would’ve just taken them home—but from the looks of it, he was going to need stitches. She glared at Jake, who could feel her eyes burning into him.

“I didn’t know, okay, Nat,” he muttered, trying to avoid her gaze.

“She had a ring on, Seresin. A ring. Did you think it ended up on her finger by accident?” she shot back.

Bob groaned and leaned his head back. His first rag had soaked through in minutes. Now he was applying heavy pressure to slow the bleeding. If he weren’t preoccupied with his arm, he’d be tearing into Jake, too.

A typical hangout at the Hard Deck wasn’t supposed to end like this. Bob had a bad feeling the moment Jake approached that woman. Her husband and his friends didn’t hesitate to throw punches. Bob hadn’t expected to catch the back end of a thrown bottle, but here he was, grateful it was only his arm that took the hit.

“Natasha?” a nurse in scrubs called from the doorway. Natasha immediately stood and motioned for the others to follow.

“Sorry for the wait,” the nurse said apologetically.

“Oh, no worries. I know it’s a busy night. Sorry for taking up one of your rooms,” Natasha replied.

It clicked for Bob then—why Natasha had driven them twenty extra minutes to this hospital. Jack. Doctor Jack Prescott. Natasha had been dating him for two years, set up on a blind date by a friend. The squad had met him a few times—over beers, at Navy events.

The nurse led them to an extra-large room and had them take a seat.

“The nurse will be in shortly. Can I get you guys anything while you wait?” she asked.

“We’re all good,” Natasha answered for them.

The room fell eerily quiet until Mickey finally broke the silence.

“So this is where Doctor Lover works.”

Natasha shot him a glare, earning snickers from Bob and Reuben. A knock interrupted them, and the nurse entered.

“Hey Maria,” Natasha greeted.

“Girl, what the hell are you doing here?” Maria asked, surprised.

“Not for me. Just need them assessed—and this one may need stitches,” she said, pointing at Bob.

“Let me get some vitals. The doctors will be in soon; they’re just wrapping up another case.”

“How’s your night been?” Natasha asked as Maria moved from one injured man to the next.

“Honestly? Not bad. You’ll hear about it soon,” she said with a laugh.

After finishing, Maria exited.

“How often do you come here?” Bob asked Natasha.

“When I can. If it’s a slow night, I’ll stop by with energy drinks for the staff and food for Jack.”

Reuben began fiddling with the equipment but froze when the door opened again. In walked Dr. Jack—better known to the squad as Doctor Lover. A chorus of greetings followed.

“Not exactly who I wanted to see in my ER,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly where we wanted to end up either,” Hangman replied.

“He caused the fight, didn’t he?”

A unanimous “Yeah” echoed through the room.

Jack pulled on gloves and grabbed a chair to begin his assessments.

“Maria said something about your night—anything serious?” Natasha asked.

“Not for me, but I got a good laugh.”

“What did she do this time?”

“Rude of you to assume it was me,” a new voice said from the door. Another woman in scrubs entered.

“Respectfully feisty. Maria said the duo had a story,” Natasha said, laughing.

“Damn, Maria,” the woman muttered. “What happened here?”

“Typical bar fight,” Mickey said.

“Not so typical when four Navy officers are in these chairs,” she replied, dragging over a chair to join them.

“So, spill the beans, Miss Feisty. What kind of trouble did you get into tonight?” Reuben asked.

“It’s Doctor Feisty, and all I did was put Tamara in her place.”

“You didn’t,” Natasha said, eyes wide.

“Oh, but she did,” Jack confirmed as he typed into a nearby computer. “First, tell me what you see.”

“Tylenol for three, standard wound cleaning, no deviated septum, may need some imaging for his nose for hairline, oxygen levels are good, no missing teeth—just a typical scuffle. But this one,” she said, moving to Bob, “may I?”

Bob nodded and lifted the rag.

“Needs stitches. Lidocaine around the area. Clean it thoroughly before and after,” she said with a smile.

“Cool. I’ll put in the orders, and you can tell the story,” Jack said.

She spun her chair toward Natasha.

“She asked me if I’d feel comfortable ordering a potassium push for a patient with low potassium. I asked if she was incompetent—or if we were suddenly back in the ’70s, using that order as a punishment for serial killers. Then I made her put pads on the patient and took her off the case.”

“I aspire to be you—sometimes,” Natasha laughed.

“I’m sorry, but the first thing you learn in healthcare is: never push potassium. And you want to ask me if I can order that?”

“Lilly saw her crying and running toward Noah’s office,” Jack added.

“Yeah, well, she can cry to him all she wants. Sorry for wanting to save a patient’s life today.”

Bob chuckled at Feisty’s story. Her rage wasn’t cocky—it was purposeful, admirable. And strangely magnetic.

“Now, for the guy bleeding all over my floors. Want to follow me and get that sorted out?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, nicely trained soldier.”

Mickey gave a whistle, which earned glares from Bob and the doctor.

Once in a small treatment room, Feisty grabbed her supplies and motioned for Bob to sit on the chair.

“So, you’re Nat’s backseater,” she said, more a statement than a question.

“Yes, for about three missions now.”

“This might sting,” she warned, injecting the area with lidocaine. Bob winced slightly but stayed quiet.

“Tough guy, huh?”

“Just trying not to look like more of an idiot in front of you. Sorry about the blood,” he said.

She paused briefly, then her expression softened. “Well, for the record, I’ve seen worse.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it, especially in this area.”

“We get our fair share.”

Bob watched her hands move confidently as she sutured him up, not feeling an ounce of pain.

“You’ve got a bit of an accent, Lieutenant—”

“Floyd. Bob Floyd. Robert, technically.”

“Alrighty, 007. I thought Nat said her backseater was from Lemoore, but that accent? Not even close.”

“Childhood in Texas. Teenage years in Montana.”

“Ahh, a dual citizenship of cowboy.”

He laughed. “Besides being an amazing doctor, you’re pretty good at geography and accents.”

“My mom grew up just past Lemoore. That’s why I asked.”

They fell into a comfortable silence while she focused on her task.

“All done. I’m placing a clear wrap over it. No showering around this area for 24 hours. If you notice signs of infection, come back in.”

“Thank you, Doctor—”

“Y/N. Doctor Y/N L/N. Or Feisty, apparently.”

“Y/L/N!!” Maria yelled from the hallway. “We got trauma en route—five minutes out!”

Feisty stood, already snapping some clean gloves on. “Duty calls, Lieutenant,” she said with a quick smile.

“Let’s prep trauma bay two! Get supplies ready!”

“You can go back to the room. Discharge paperwork should be ready. See you around,” she said before disappearing into the hallway.

Bob stood frozen. Something about her—so commanding, so calm in the chaos—was magnetic. She was like a siren. He couldn’t look away as she vanished into the trauma bay, already giving orders.

When he walked back into the room, Natasha and the crew were waiting.

“Oh, he is so whipped for Doctor Feisty,” Seresin said.

Bob didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #lewis pullman #robert bob floyd #lewis pullman x reader #bob fluff #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fluff #top gun maverick #bob reynolds #bob floyd fluff

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clfixationstation · 1 month ago

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ngl I cannot bring myself to agree with the "Catra's redemption was rushed" crowd, whether they like the show overall or not. Perhaps I have a different view of redemption than most. To me, a redemption arc begins when a character experiences guilt and remorse for their actions, which Catra expresses in early season 4 when she has a nightmare about how she threw Entrapta under the bus and activated the portal. Catra's nightmare shows her images of Entrapta and Adora questioning her, placing the onus for her actions on her: "What did you do to me?" "Why did you do it?"

Derailing: Why did she do it? Not because Adora made her. Catra can't use that excuse anymore. "Why did you do it?" Adora also asked Catra this as a child (s5ep3 Corridors) after she hit Lonnie. Back then, it was because Catra was terrified of losing Adora's friendship and thereby being "discarded" by Shadow Weaver. She was scared for her life. But now? Catra didn't activate the portal for safety; she did it to win. She did it to prove to the world she could be victorious, to Shadow Weaver, Hordak, Adora, to everyone who refused to believe in her. Yet after pulling that lever, Catra's true desires were revealed; she wanted to be relatively safe, surrounded by friends, allowed to love Adora, and recognized for her worth. She didn't need to dominate. When that false reality shattered, Catra's hope was shattered with it. She fell back on her sense of injustice, reduced to her own agony, inflicting it upon the world and herself. After the portal, Catra had to face that her goal of ascending through the Horde was hollow.

One could even argue Catra feels regret at the end of season 3 with this look she gives Adora of "ohhh I fucked up, I fucked up big time." Catra looks sickened, with herself and with how Adora now sees her.

From this point in the story, it was blatant to me that Catra was headed for redemption. Catra clearly knows that she went too far and may have completely burned every bridge and ruined all hope of redemption. But she can't yet confront that her ambitions will not fulfill her. So, she doubles down. In classic sunk-cost fallacy fashion, Catra seemingly strengthens her allegiance to the Horde, taking control and commanding operations. Despite herself, Catra's guilt creeps up on her, not only through the nightmare but also in her approach to Adora. Unlike in s1-3, throughout season 4 Catra avoids Adora almost entirely, only engaging from afar. Catra evades confronting the amount of pain she's caused Adora, the seemingly irreparable chasm she's clawed between them, focusing solely on strengthening the Horde. She still cares, but denies herself that regular interaction.

This suppression poisons Catra's fragile friendship with Scorpia as well. Catra continually lashes out at Scorpia, projecting her own insecurities and frustrations onto her. Her behavior pushes Scorpia away and causes her to leave the Horde, to leave Catra. This is the first time someone left because of her. It almost feels like self-sabotage, Catra pushing Scorpia more and more, becoming crueler, creating reason for her to defect. Catra doesn't feel worthy of Scorpia's friendship, of anyone's. And so Scorpia's kindness enrages her, reminds her of how far she's fallen, and how much lower she will go. Catra also lashes out at her former comrades, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle, further isolating herself from anyone who cares about her, pinning her entire existence on proving herself through Horde victory. She failed in the friendship department; the Horde is all she has left.

But Catra can't fool herself forever, and she certainly couldn't fool Double Trouble. After defeating Hordak, who does Catra have left to prove herself to? Horde Prime? Herself? Neither of those people care. For the first time, Catra is completely alone, and Double Trouble doesn't let Catra hide from how she got there. They read Catra to filth, summarizing what I wrote above: Catra pushed all her friends away in pursuit of a villainous role she didn't desire; her heart laid elsewhere. Now both goals are in ruins. Depleted, with nothing left to prove, Catra asks Glimmer to kill her. Catra's guilt permeated season 4, seeping into all her relationships and degrading her mental state. But guilt is meaningless without action. Which brings us to season 5.

I got soooo off track, so I'll try to wrap it up. So yes, Catra's redemption arc started in s3/4 when she first felt remorse for her actions - not in season 5. Even then, her change took time to develop. Initially, Catra still tried to align herself with Prime, but convinced him to spare Glimmer, indicating her shifting allegiance. The girls begin to empathize with each other and Catra sees how much Glimmer cares for Adora and the life Adora has built for herself. Fully expecting to die, Catra chooses to throw away the small amount of favor she earned with Prime and save Glimmer, therefore protecting Adora. Catra apologizes to Adora for everything. Her body is stolen from her and she dies as a consequence of her actions. She's revived and chooses to join the Rebellion. She slips up but genuinely tries to make amends, not for her own conscience but because it's right. She wants to do better. She accepts ire from the Princesses without retaliation. She defends Adora from Shadow Weaver. She gives Adora the strength to choose to live and allow herself to desire, and together they save the world.

This redemption is not immediate. It was given time, the foundation established across seasons. Catra does not have a sudden change of heart. It builds gradually, even within the final season. Nothing about Catra's arc was rushed and nothing about it was easy. Each day, she fought the harmful instincts cemented in her from years of abuse to become a better person, experiencing realistic regression and growth. Catra was tormented by others and herself for her entire life and all it did was make her worse. She deserves a soft universe, the new world she and Adora created together

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andy-15-07 · 3 months ago

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Say It Louder

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1513 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

request:Can you maybe write one where the reader is like in her 30's and dating pedro and lately she notices hes a bit distant and not himself to her at least and one day after work she asks him whats going on and he tells her he wants to break up and he doesnt give an explanation and they are both heartbroken and on set shes quiet and one night at a award show or afterparty of a movie a guy is flirting with her but she is just being nice and not going in on it until he put his hands on her and pedro is there too and helps her and confronts the guy and she takes him home and he explaines why he broke up cause of ppl downgrading her with the age difference but she never cared and they make up? Can you end it with smut and maybe after they go full out public cause they dont care anymore what others think @kellyxo1

You knew something was off.

Pedro hadn’t been himself for weeks. Not distant in the obvious way,he still made your coffee just right, still left sweet voice notes when you were on set,but it was in the eyes. Less sparkle. Less softness when they landed on you.

You didn’t want to pressure him, but after two weeks of his half-hearted kisses and distracted smiles, you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

That night, you waited until he got home. He dropped his keys in the bowl like usual, shrugged out of his jacket, and when he turned to greet you, you were already waiting in the hallway.

"Hey," you said gently. "Can we talk?"

Pedro paused, eyes flicking to you with that guarded look you'd grown to hate. “Sure.”

You motioned toward the living room. He followed, sinking into the corner of the couch while you sat opposite him.

"You’ve been different lately," you said. “And I didn’t want to make a thing out of it, but… it’s been eating me up.”

He ran a hand over his face. "Y/N..."

"Just be honest with me, Pedro. Please."

He didn’t look at you when he said it.

“I think we should break up.”

Your breath hitched. "What?"

His hands gripped his knees, knuckles pale. “I just… I think it’s time.”

"Why?"

“I just," he shook his head, still avoiding your eyes, "I can’t do it anymore.”

“You can’t do what, Pedro? Be with me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quietly.

You stared at him, stunned. “So you’re just ending it? Without even explaining?”

His silence told you everything. You nodded slowly, standing, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally looking up.

You didn’t cry. Not until the bedroom door closed behind you.

You stayed professional on set. You didn’t cry in your trailer or avoid eye contact with crew. But people noticed.

Pedro noticed too.

He watched you when he thought you weren’t looking,eyes filled with regret he refused to speak aloud. You greeted him politely, like any colleague. He looked gutted every time.

A few weeks passed. The new film premiered with glowing reviews, and the cast was invited to a big afterparty at the Chateau.

You almost didn’t go. But the publicist insisted. “You’re stunning and successful. You need to shine.”

So you put on the dress that made you feel invincible and stepped into the spotlight like nothing had ever hurt you.

Pedro was already there. In a classic black suit, nursing a whiskey, eyes tracking you from the moment you walked in.

You didn’t go to him. You were trying to move on.

A tall man with a sharp suit and cocky smile approached you at the bar. “You’re Y/N, right? The scene-stealer?”

You laughed politely. “That’s generous, but yes.”

He offered you a drink. You sipped slowly, nodding along as he talked,clearly impressed with himself. You were just being nice, not encouraging anything. But then his hand slid across your lower back.

Too low.

You tensed. “Hey,”

He leaned in. “You’re even hotter in person. Age looks damn good on you.”

You stepped back. “Okay, that’s enough.”

But his hand followed. “Oh come on,don’t be like that,”

A hand clamped over the man’s wrist. Firm. Unyielding.

“Let go of her.”

Pedro.

He stood between you and the man now, body tense, jaw clenched.

The guy raised his hands, trying to play it cool. “Whoa, alright. Didn’t know she came with a bodyguard.”

Pedro didn’t flinch. “I’m not her bodyguard. I’m the man who’s about to get you kicked out if you touch her again.”

The guy muttered something under his breath and slinked off. Pedro turned to you, eyes stormy.

“You okay?”

You nodded, heart still pounding. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’ll take you home.”

You didn’t argue.

The ride was quiet.

When you got inside your place, you kicked off your heels, adrenaline still buzzing. Pedro lingered at the doorway like he didn’t know if he was welcome.

You stared at him for a moment, and finally asked the question that had haunted you since the night he left.

“Why did you break up with me?”

He closed the door behind him. “Y/N…”

“I deserve the truth, Pedro. Not silence. Not distance. Truth.”

He paced for a second, then finally let it spill.

“Because people were starting to talk.”

You frowned. “Talk about what?”

“The age difference. You know,how I’m older, and you could do better, and I’m holding you back. That it’s weird. That you’re some kind of… fantasy I don’t deserve.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You broke up with me because of them?”

He looked pained. “It got to me. I started thinking maybe they were right. That I was just dragging you down.”

You took a slow step toward him. “Pedro, I never cared what people thought. You’re the one I loved. You.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And that scared me. That I could have something so good, and maybe I didn’t deserve it.”

You placed a hand on his chest. “You do deserve it. Us.”

He looked down at you, hands curling around your waist like he couldn’t help himself.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “Every damn day.”

You leaned up and kissed him,soft at first, then fierce. Weeks of longing and heartbreak melted in the heat between you.

Pedro lifted you in his arms without breaking the kiss, carrying you toward the bedroom like instinct. The door clicked closed behind you.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then his shirt, hanging forgotten over the back of a chair. Every barrier vanished as he pressed you against the wall, one hand braced on the drywall, the other cradling your face. His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, to the hollow at your throat, each touch igniting a spark that ran straight to your core.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick. His mouth dipped lower, sucking gently on your collarbone, and you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you to the edge of the king-size bed.

He paused to meet your eyes. “I need you,” he breathed, voice husky.

You nodded, heart hammering. “I need you too.”

Clothes fell away in a trail: your dress pooled at his feet, his belt and jeans hit the floor in a soft heap. He paused to admire the curve of your hips, the smooth line of your back, the way your breath hitched when he pressed his palm to your belly.

“Perfect,” he murmured, capturing your lips again.

He guided you down onto the mattress, positioning you so you were lying back and he hovered above, knuckles brushing your inner thighs. The anticipation was electric,each small touch sending shivers along your nerves.

Then, gently, he slid home. You cried out, an urgent, breathy sound, and Pedro paused to close his eyes, savoring the feeling. Slowly, he began to move, barely a whisper of motion at first,inch by inch, savoring every gasp and tremor escaping your lips.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as the pace deepened. He thrust deliberately, hands bracing at your hips, then increased the rhythm until the world narrowed to the friction at your core and the sound of skin against skin.

“Oh, Pedro…” you moaned, arching your back as he found the right angle, each stroke driving you higher.

He bent to press kisses to your neck as he moved, murmuring your name over and over. “Y/N… Y/N…” His thrusts grew more insistent, driven by need and regret and the promise of never letting go again.

Your breath hitched into one long, keening plea just before your release. Muscles tightening around him, you came apart beneath him,hard, trembling, tears of relief and joy shining in your eyes.

He collapsed beside you, sliding out and rolling onto his side so he could cup you close. His body shook as he rode out his own climax, whispering a choked, “I love you,” into your hair.

You curled into him, skin to skin. He pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade. “I never want to be apart from you again.”

Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest. “Stay,” you murmured. “Let’s never hide again.”

He smiled against your skin. “For real this time, I promise.”

Outside, the city hummed on,and inside, you two rebuilt all the pieces you thought were lost.

Two weeks later, Pedro posted a photo.

It was taken on your balcony, sunlight hitting your bare shoulder as you looked over your coffee mug. You were wearing his shirt. He captioned it simply:

“Mine. Always was.”

Within minutes, Twitter exploded. The age-gap discourse restarted, of course,but something shifted.

This time, neither of you cared.

You went public, hand in hand at the next premiere. Pedro kissed you on the red carpet.

And you smiled, because no whisper, no headline, no jealous critic could erase the way he looked at you now.

Like he’d never let go again.

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samaahhsh · 4 months ago

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IT GIRL GUIDES

What does it mean to be an IT girl? For me it's to have a balance between all the aspects of your life, to do everything you're interested in without burning yourself out and to be effortlessly elegant, calm and, composed. My idea of an IT girl is a person who's social, sporty, smart, with an artistic side to them, a person who has a sense of identity in who they are. How can one achieve all of these? Well that's exactly what I'll be explaining in this post!

1. MASTERING SOCIAL INTERACTIONS

One thing that I've noticed about all IT girls is that they're never afraid to go up to someone and strike up a conversation. They don't have that fear of being 'awkward' or being perceived as 'weird'. So, the next time you want to be friends with someone or get a conversation started, just do it. Compliment their outfit, talk about a book they're reading , talk about the weather or the traffic or whatever you want to talk about. Keep in mind that building your social skills also involves being a good listener so instead of making the conversation all about you, just take a moment to listen to the other person as well. It's crazy how many people miss out on so many great, life changing experiences they could have had just because they were afraid to make the first move.

2. FINDING YOUR SPORT

Engaging in a sport is great for your physical and mental health + it gets your body fit and strong. Step 1: Try out a bunch of different sports and choose one that fits you best. I recommend choosing one or two because more than that can lead to you struggling to balance it all but definitely go for it if you're confident that you'll be able to do it. Step 2: Practice, Practice, Practice. Be consistent in your sport and practice regularly. Take breaks when needed in order to avoid injury and most importantly, just go with the flow. Don't get so worked up about perfecting or mastering anything right now, remember, we're learning right now. Step 3: Once you get pretty good at it, enroll in competitions, tournaments, etc. as they can be a great way to assess what level you are at and what you can improve. Although you may face a few failures, it'll be fine as long as you take them as lessons and choose a better perspective.

3.EXCELING ACADEMICALLY

Listen, I'm not good at academics at all and I'm pretty average myself so the tips that I give doesn't necessarily have to work for everyone. The first and most crucial step in exceling in academics is to practice time management. Allocate different times for when you're gonna study each subject and work on each task. Next is to revise through whatever you learned to help you solidify information in long-term memory. Pay attention when the teacher is teaching and always, always, always clear you doubts in class instead of keeping it for later. Along with this, staying organized and finding a study group can further enhance your approach and offer a different perspective. It's also important to keep in mind that too much studying can cause burnouts and other undesired things so make sure you have a balanced lifestyle to avoid that.

4. CULTIVATING YOUR ARTISTIC SIDE

There's nothing more sophisticated than being a person who has a taste for and can also execute an art skill. Art can be of various forms, it could be form of dance, a musical instrument, a persons ability to capture something on a page through drawing or painting, etc. Developing and learning an art is not an easy feat and requires dedication and consistency. One needs to be willing to experiment with different types of Art to find one that suits them and once they do, tremendous practice is needed to become good at it. But let me tell you it's all worth it, knowing that you're good at something that you're interested in and working on it. It's also a proud feeling to tell someone that you practice an art. A few key things to keep in mind are to go at your own pace and just enjoy the process, rushing yourself could burn you out and I personally found it hard to go back from that phase.

I hope that these tips can help you become the person you want to be and the best version of yourself. If I need to clarify myself at any point, just let me know. <3

@samaahhsh

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aemondapologistfrfr · 1 year ago

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How to Become No One

aegon x witch!fem!reader

Summary: The Dowager Queen calls upon you to try and heal her son. You never expected to find such a bond with another’s magic. This story of healings takes them across two continents and through many trials.

Warnings: 18+ hurt comfort fr, swearing, mentions of injury not too detailed but kind of, blood, pain, medicine, hurt sunfyre but he gets healed fr, threats, mentions of murder, murder, different kind of magic system, a healing journey fr, faceless men moment, house of the undying, oral(f receiving), p in v after he’s healed bffr

Authors Note: my friend begged me to write this but i clearly didn’t need that much persuading 🫣, i had no idea where i was going with this although it’s giving tower of dawn vibes iykyk, i’ve skewed a lot of things to fit my narrative, not sorry x

Word Count: 6.8k idek what to say!!

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My days in this dark city never seem to have an end or a beginning. I wait at a booth in the back of a tavern waiting for paying customers. Usually they come and ask me to place blood curses or cause immeasurable pain. The man before me is begging for something that’s never been asked of me before which has piqued my curiosity.

“The Dowager Queen is seeking your talents and discretion.” A man with a thick westerosi accent pleads to me.

“She is no Queen to me.” I look over him.

“Surely the payment she’s offering can sway you?” he pulls out a well filled sack. “This is just for the trip there. There is more waiting for you in Kings Landing.” the money he’s speaking of could allow me to leave these lands for good.

“What is the extent of his injury?” I lean back and look at him contemplatively.

“He has sustained burns to half of his body. He fell a great distance off his dragon. He has regained consciousness, but remains in great pain. The Grand Maester believes there are injuries within that are out of his expertise.” his voice wavers as he pushes the gold to me.

I sit back and wonder how the Dowager Queen of Westeros heard of me all the way in Asshai. Sending one of her men to this city to seek me out is madness and I can appreciate her desperation. I could probably get them to pay me even more than they’re planning. It’s been some time since I’ve used my powers to help someone. I grab the bag of coins and the man looks to me hopeful.

“I will come with and do what I can.” I nod to him.

“Pack your bags and we will leave at once. I have a ship at the ready in the harbor.” he rises quickly.

“I have nothing of value worth bringing. We can leave now.” I rise with him as he furrows a brow to me.

“No one to say goodbye to?” he asks overstepping.

“Lead the way to your ship.” I nod my head at him hoping he gets the hint.

We shuffle through the city quickly avoiding the dark streets and ominous folk. As we approach the dock I can see the ridiculously large boat this man no doubt came on. I shake my head to myself as I board and the men begin preparing for us to leave. I look back at the city finally ready to leave it behind me.

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The week on the boat was less than desirable, but I was finally able to find sleep. I was able to try and prepare a plan to help the fallen King. I couldn’t make too many decisions until I’m able to assess him myself in person. As we dock my blood thrums at the magic that is flowing out of this city. It slips around the streets and seems to pour from the other end of the city in form of living animals. Dragons. I didn’t think they would have them so close to their home and within the city walls.

Once we’re docked I’m whisked into a carriage and brought directly to the castle. The man escorts me directly in and up the stairs. We stop in front of a large set of double doors which he knocks on quickly.

“You’re back. Did she come?” a woman looks past the man I’ve been traveling with. “Thank the Gods.”

“I choose to come here. Not the Gods.” I brush past her into the room where I can feel the pain and hear the groans.

My eyes widen as I see the King being forced to walk around the room. There’s a man who is panicked and wants him back in bed and there’s a man with a club foot fighting against the Kings rest. I flare my nostrils that they would even entertain the thought of having him out of bed.

“Get him back in the bed. Now.” I say through my teeth. “Are you fucking daft? How long has it been since the injury?” I walk to the bed as they lay him back down as his watery eye looks to me.

“Hello? Can anyone speak?” I snap as I look around the room.

“Just over a week.” the man in a white robe says.

“And you’re the maester I presume?” I raise my eyebrow to him.

“I am.” he nods looking at me nervously.

“Mm, and this was your idea? To have your King up and walking about while he’s clearly in pain?” my voice starting to rise. Who knows what extra damage they’ve caused.

“It was my plan, my Lady.” the clubfoot speaks.

“I am no Lady.” I look at him with disgust. “And why would you have say over what is best for his health? You seem to only have one leg yourself? Shall I ruin your other and make you walk about the halls?” I walk towards him with darkening eyes.

“No, I-“ he stutters stumbling back.

“Leave this room. You’re not to enter again.” my eyes flash to the door and he’s quickly hobbling out.

“What should we call you?” the woman asks.

“Y/n. You are the Queen I assume?” my eyes look to her grateful ones.

“Yes, Alicent. You don’t know how much it means to me that you came.” her voice cracks as she looks to her son.

“I’ll see what I can do. Leave me with the Maester.” I wave them off and they quickly leave the room. “Tell me his external injuries.” I look to him as I walk to the Kings side.

“As you can see he has burns.” he murmurs

“Indeed, I can heal some of this but he will remained scarred.” I hum ghosting my fingers across the edge of the bed.

“He has a broken leg that we’ve set and try to keep elevated.” he adds.

“Unless you’re having him walk on said broken bone. How is that productive Grand Maester?” my eyes shoot to his.

“Lord Larys demanded, I-“

“You let the clubfoot boss you around? Interesting.” I shake my head. “What else of your King?” I sigh.

“Obviously he’s thoroughly bruised and beaten. I fear there’s more going on internally. His pain is immense.” he looks down folding his hands.

“What is his name?” I hum trailing my fingers down his unscathed side.

“Aegon.” the Grand Maester looks to my hand.

“Where is his dragon?” I ask softly as I can feel the fire within his veins.

“He’s been incapacitated and left at Rooks Rest.” his voice soft.

“Bring the dragon here. They need each other, especially now. I’ll help them both.” I decide and look up to the Maester.

“I will talk to the Prince Regent.” he avoids my eyes.

“You’re scared of him. I am not. I would like to have an audience with him.” Aegon groans below me at my words. “I will meet him alone and not here.” I nod my head to the Maester dismissing him.

I look down to the broken King below me and let out a soft exhale. This will be a challenge but I know I can fix this man below me. God knows why they left his dragon. I thought these dragonlords thought them Gods. I bring a stool to the side of Aegons bed and look to him.

“Can you speak, Aegon?” I ask softly.

“I can.” his voice rough. His lungs are still clouded with smoke and he’ll need a mixture to help begin to clear them and loosen what remains.

“I will make something to help with your throat and chest so it’s easier to talk. I am here help.” the words taste weird on my tongue but I can see the relief he feels at them.

“Thank you,” he starts to cough and I feel the rumble in his chest and the expanse of pain.

I lay my hand on the smooth side of his chest and release tendrils of magic into him to help alleviate some of the pain. His breathing settles as his watery eye looks to me. The tears that slide down his cheek crack something in me and I pull away.

“Are you a God?” his voice shattered.

“I’m far from a God.” I let out a small chuckle as I rise.

“Please don’t leave me,” his unmarred hand reaches for me.

For a reason I don’t understand, or refuse to understand, I sit back down on the stool and place his hand in mine. My other hand reaches up and wipes away his flowing tears and he leans into my hand. Healing this man below me is going to take more than I anticipated.

“Y/n,” the Maester walks through the door. “The Prince Regent will see you in the council chambers.” I nod my head as I walk to the table and begin writing down a list of herbs and tinctures.

“I would like these brought to me. He is not to get out of that bed. If I come back and find him to be standing the person responsible will find themselves indisposed.” the Maester looks at me with wide eyes and nods.

I follow a guard down the hall and stairs. This castle is massive and much brighter than I’m used to. We walk quickly down the halls avoiding anyone. We stop in front of yet another set of double doors which the guard groans open. I step in and the guard leaves me alone with the Prince Regent.

“Who are you to summon me?” his voice carries across the chambers.

“See to it that the Kings dragon is brought here with haste.” I look him over as I feel the rage pouring off of him.

“You do not command me.” he says lowly rising from his chair.

“No, the King does. You are simply a second son.” I hum walking to the table further assessing him.

“You will not speak to me like that.” he grabs his dagger.

“Have the dragon brought back alive or I will take your other eye before you can even get within range of me.” I say simply and he fumes stepping towards me.

I blink and when I open my eyes I’m back in Aegons chambers. He’s asleep and I can hear the backup in his lungs. I softly place a hand on his shoulder and send out my magic into his blood stream. The magic in his entangles with mine and it seems to be begging for help. Mine continues on the search for other injuries that will need my assistance.

My magic trails over his ribs and shutters. They’re bruised roughly and cracked in some spots. It continues to flow down his body and it reaches his broken leg and begins to stich some of itself into the marrow to help assist with mending it back together. He will still need rest and casting to keep it set but it will heal and hopefully quickly.

The Maester walks in with a basket and places it on the table. I walk to the basket and dismiss him. I begin to prepare the mixture and sigh knowing it’ll taste terrible going down. Once I finish I walk back over to the bed and smooth Aegons hair until he slowly starts to stir. He jumps and I feel his anxiety spike as I continue to comfortingly pet his hair.

“This is going to taste terrible. After a few days of this your voice will be back to normal and your lungs will be cleared.” he nods and lifts his head as I bring the cup to his lips. He gags as he swallows down the mixture and I help him lay back once he’s settled.

“I’m having your dragon brought back.” I hum looking down to him.

“My perfect Sunfyre.” he sighs as his eye starts to water again.

“I will help heal him as well. Until he gets here I will focus on your internal injuries first.” I hum sitting back on the stool.

The dragon magic is evident in his veins but he needs a dragon connection to help make it stronger and allow me to begin healing his fire related injuries. Those injuries won’t be easy for him to heal and I won’t be able to reverse everything but I will be able to help lessen it.

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Over the past week I have been able to heal his lungs and ribs. He has been talking to me and remaining silent around others. He’s pleaded with me to not share his progress with anyone. I can tell it’s from fear of someone I’m just not sure of who yet. I’ve been slowly trying to figure it out but he shuts down when I pry.

“Is there any word on Sunfyre?” he asks me this everyday and today I can finally say that I do.

“He shall be within the Red Keep gates within the hour.” I smile to him as his eye lights up.

“Will you take me to see him?” he asks sitting up.

“I need to assess him first and start his healing too. Your leg still needs to be in a cast and elevated. I don’t want the progress we’ve made to be for naught.” I pat his hand.

“You’re not frightened by dragons?” he tilts his head.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who has fears, Aegon?” I smile down to him.

“Please help him if you can.” his voice soft as his eye pleads.

“I will do everything I can.” I nod my head to him before I start towards the doors.

“Please come back when you’re done,” his voice a whisper as his magic pulls out to mine.

“You know I will.” I reply without turning around to him before shutting the doors behind me.

I know the dragonlords know nothing of the extent of their magic. His calls to mine so loudly it’s been deafening over the past couple of days. Even now as I exit the main doors of the Keep I can feel it lingering after me. I feel another influx of magic as the gates groan open in front of me as they cart in a golden dragon.

“Sunfyre.” I breathe out and his eye opens and looks directly to me.

The gates shut and the men pulling the cart quickly disperse. I slowly walk up to the dragon and feel the absolute agony this great being is in. I look at his festering wounds and steady my feet. His breathing is labored as he tries to crane his neck.

“Calm, Sunfyre. I will need to clean your wounds. I fear they’ve become infected and I will need to deeply inspect them.” I speak softly to the dragon as I approach with outstretched hands.

I place my hand on his ripped stomach and almost double over at the pain that’s overwhelming my magic. I steel my feet beneath me and bring my other hand to join. The wounds begin seeping again as the infection is slowly being pushed out of his body. I remove my hands and stand back to catch my breath.

I call for the guards to bring me fresh water basins and cloths. I take a seat on the stone and rest my back against the cart. Sunfyre grumbles from above me and pushes his snout into my shoulder.

“Aegon lives. Though I’m sure you can feel that.” I sigh leaning back watching the guards bring me my supplies.

I stand and begin to work on cleaning the wounds. The gouges are deep and I’m surprised that Sunfyre lasted as long as he did. The dragon groans and snaps its jaws as I clean for hours. Once I’m satisfied the wounds are truly clean I look up and notice it’s not the sun lighting my work but torches as the moon is high in the sky.

“Bring live feed for him. Along with water.” I instruct and turn on my heel to return to Aegons chambers.

“Where have you been? How is Sunfyre?” his eyes go wide as he looks at the blood on my hands and dress.

“His wounds are cleaned and disinfected. I’m having food and water brought to him now. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how long I was gone or I would’ve sent word.” I sigh as I walk to his bathing chambers in hopes of finding something to wash my hands with.

“Call for a servant to make you a bath.” he sits up looking to me with furrowed brows.

“I should’ve washed before I came here. I was just in a rush,” I shake my head at my rambling.

“Guards,” he shouts for the first time all week.

“My King,” the guard bursts in the door not having heard his kings voice in well over a week.

“Have a servant come and make Y/n a bath.” he nods to the guard.

“At once.” the guard nods and shuts the door behind him.

“Aegon,” I start.

“A bath is the least I can offer.” he cuts me off shaking his head.

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Sunfyre is restored save for scars. Him and his rider will have that in common. I collect small vials of blood from Sunfyre throughout the week to mix into a poultice for Aegons burns. Sunfyre surprisingly cooperates and has no issues with my poking and prodding.

“What is this now?” Aegons voice weary as I approach with the blood mixture.

“The most painful part I’m afraid.” I murmur as I sit on the bed next to him.

“What does it do?” he eyes the bowl in my hand.

“Help with the burns. It will help heal and lessen them, at the cost of reliving the initial trauma.” I look to him as his eye goes wide.

“Y/n,” his voice trembles as his unscarred hand reaches for mine. “I’m scared.” a tear slips down his face.

“I’m here. You will be safe.” I murmur wiping away his tears.

“Please not all at once.” his voice broken and pleading.

“Of course not,” I shake my head. “I want to see if I can at least heal your eye first.” I bring my hand up to cup his scarred cheek.

“Do you think you can?” his voice full of hope.

“We shall find out.” I hum.

His unscarred hand holds onto mine tightly. I take my free hand and dip my fingers into the blood mixture and hoover it over his closed eye. I softly spread it over the burnt skin and I begin to see it sizzle. His hand squeezes mine and I feel as if my hand is going to break.

“It hurts, it hurts.” Aegon sobs and my heart cracks.

“I’m sorry, I’m here, you’re safe.” I try to push my magic into his but his dragon magic is linking with Sunfyres blood blocking out any relief.

I slide into the bed next to him and begin to smooth his hair as he continues to squeeze my hand. His sobs are slowly tearing into my soul and I feel absolutely helpless. His breathing starts to slow and his tears stop. I hover above him and look upon his eye. I get off the bed and retrieve a clean cloth and dip it into water. I wipe off his eye and relief washes over me. I push my magic into him and send it straight to his eye. The nerves are starting to repair themselves and I sigh as I feel the last connection.

“Open your eyes Aegon.” I whisper down to him.

He blinks his eyes open and a smile spreads across my face. I’ve done it. He has his other eye open and it appears to be moving in sync with the other as if there’s no issue. He scans the room and his violet eyes land on me.

“You’ve done it.” Aegon starts crying. I smile down to him and cup his face.

“You’ve done it. It takes a lot of strength to go through that again. You are very strong and brave.” I offer him praise and he begins crying even harder.

“Can that heal my entire body?” he looks up to me with watery eyes.

“It could but it would take many moons. It took me a whole week to collect this blood just for your eye.” I look to him biting my lip.

“And whose blood is that?” he looks to me blinking rapidly still getting used to having both eyes once more.

“Sunfyres.” I look to the now empty bowl.

“He allowed you to take his blood?” he looks at me quizzically.

“Indeed, I have a way with words.” I hum smiling down to him. “Although, I do have another way to help you, but me suggesting this may be overstepping and possibly a little insane.” I say hushed biting my lip.

“What is it?” he hangs on to my every word.

I’ve been mulling over this idea since I first saw the broken King. I have heard of many different magics and Gods throughout my years and this is the first time I’ve ever considered seeking them out. Running away with the King of Westeros is absolutely mad but I’m hoping he’ll come with me. I’m reluctant to admit that I’ve become quite fond of him and wish to take him away from his family.

“We will reside in Bravos as you work to become a part of the Faceless Men Guild. There they will train you on how to become no one. After you succeed, I know of sorcerers in Essos who can conjure a doppelgänger or a clone of sorts that would almost directly resemble you, save for a few features. From here we bring him back to Bravos where essentially you would kill him and take his face and in turn kill your old self.” Aegon blinks at me as he takes in this information and plan.

“You said we? You would stay with me?” he looks up to me as if this is the only factor that matters to him.

“I would, if you want me to.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.

“For how long?” he sits up.

“As long as you’d like me to.” I murmur looking to him.

“Why?” he squints his eyes assessing me.

“I’ve become quite attached to you.” I look to him with raw eyes. “My magic seems to hum and mold with yours.” I whisper.

“My magic?” he raises an eyebrow.

“We can explore it later once we’re safe.” I nod to him hoping he’ll come with me.

He starts to rise from his bed and I go to his side. He brushes me off as he stands and strides across the room and I’m left speechless. He opens his wardrobe and pulls out a bag and begins to stuff clothes and coin into it. He grabs a cloak and pulls it over his shoulders before turning back to me.

“Let’s go tonight.” I look at him in shock as he stands before me. “Oh, I’ve been practicing at night. I wanted to surprise you.” a small half smile spreads across his face.

“You amaze me.” I shake my head in awe of him.

“Come, I know a way where we won’t be seen.” he pulls me to the wall before opening a door to the internal tunnels.

“Put both of your hands in mine and close your eyes.” I hum and he grabs my hands quickly.

I look to make sure his eyes are closed and I slowly shut mine and picture us on a boat that is to arrive in Bravos within the day. I breathe out and open my eyes as I hear the sea crash onto the wooden ship. Aegons hands clench mine as his eyes open. His eyes go wide as his hands fall from mine as he looks out at the sea.

“Are you sure you’re not a God?” he whispers as he turns back to me.

“I’m sure.” I smile as I pull him to an empty bench as we watch the sea sway.

“What of Sunfyre?” he turns to me with worry in his voice.

“He’ll most likely follow our magic here and reside in the countryside. He’ll be safe regardless of his decision.” I nod my head assuring him.

We sit in silence as the ship hands begin preparing for us to reach the docks. We keep to ourselves so we don’t call any attention to ourselves. Once the boat docks we slip off the boat and go into the city to seek shelter for the upcoming moons.

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We’ve been residing a couple blocks from the guild and they were respectful enough of me and my magic to allow Aegon to reside with me and not within the walls. If they wouldn’t have allowed it I know he would not have stayed, he is attached to my hip when he’s not training with them. I don’t much mind because I enjoy feeling wanted for once.

He comes through the door and up the stairs into our main room and pulls me into a hug. He has begun to pick apart my walls and is the first person I’ve allowed to hug me in years, if not decades. I hold him against me and whisper words of praise to him. Everyday we have a routine of me peppering him with compliments and encouragement to get him out of our small apartment and then words of praise and adoration when he comes home.

We’ve become very domestic over the past two moons. We started sharing a bed instead of taking turns on the lumpy couch. I cook us dinner while he talks of his training and tasks and I listen dutifully. While he’s gone during the day I venture into the city and make coin by doing easy healing. If I want a little extra coin to buy Aegon his favorite food I’ll cast a couple curses and then make my way to the meat market.

“I have my final test tomorrow.” his eyes slide to mine.

“Already?” I look up to him.

“I have no issue being no one because I’ve spent my whole life as no one.” he says softly as I feel his sadness.

“Then you shall be mine.” the words fall from my lips before I can stop them.

“Y/n,” he whispers looking to me with glassy eyes.

“Aegon,” I walk to him and cup his face.

“I wish I wasn’t so hideous,” he looks up to me as his eyes become red as his tears fall.

“I don’t think you’re hideous.” I say hushed as I kiss his forehead. I slowly offer him kisses around his face and make sure to pay extra attention to his scarred side.

“I don’t deserve you.” he shakes his head as tears cascade down his cheeks. “I just want to kiss you and walk around the city with you without everyone feeling bad for you. I want you to see me as the man I can truly be.” his voice cracking as he continues to cry burying himself in my arms.

“I see you as the man you wish to be. Your scars have never made me feel any different about you.” I smile smoothing his hair. “If you truly wish to kiss me, then kiss me.” my words barely audible.

He pulls back from me and looks to me. He looks to my lips but shakes his head and looks away. I know he’s fighting an internal battle that I can’t help with. He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head and looks to me again.

“Fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls my lips to his.

My magic seeps into his mouth and caresses his. His tongue pushes into my mouth and slides against mine as I sigh. His hand travels to the back of my neck keeping me tightly against him as if I’ll slip away. His other hand wraps tightly around my back and I wrap my arms around him clinging to him. We slowly pull back breathing heavily and he places one last kiss on lips before stepping back and looking me over.

“Thank you for seeing me as I am.” he smiles to me.

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After Aegon returns the next day he’s beaming at passing. I hug him tightly as I feel his excitement as our next step is approaching. I’ve been storing my magic for us to make this journey to Qarth and have enough for us to make the return back to Bravos. We pack a small bag which is mostly filled with coins should they decide to be greedy. I hold my palms out to Aegon and he places his hands in mine and closes his eyes as he knows what’s coming.

We blink open our eyes in the morning sun as we stand in front of the House of the Undying. A gray man exits the single door and looks directly through me to my magic. Aegons hand is still in mine as he looks on at the strange man.

“Y/n, it’s been quite awhile.” his voice speaks directly in my mind.

“I require a favor.” I ask my voice strong and unwavering.

“A new face for your lover?” he looks to Aegon and smiles.

“What is your price?” I ask aloud.

“Come inside, we can discuss this with my counterparts.” we waves us in after him.

“Do not accept anything. Let me do the talking.” I whisper lowly pulling him inside with me.

As we enter the stone building it completely warps until we’re sanding in front of multiple seated gray men. Their magic is similar to mine but theirs always seems to leave my head reeling. I ground myself and look over them before me.

“How lovely it is to see you again, Y/n.” one of them purrs across the hall.

“I’m absolutely delighted to be here.” I look up to them with dead eyes.

“Come now, last time wasn’t so bad.” the leader of them walks down to stand in front of Aegon and me.

“Interesting that you couldn’t care less if he’s handsome or not. You’re doing this for him.” his voice slithers around my ears.

“What is your price?” I look to him expectantly, unfazed by his words.

“Why can’t we talk first? It’s been so long. Let us have some tea.” he hums as the room warps once more and we’re sitting at a table with a kettle and three cups around us.

“Do not drink the tea.” I push Aegons cup away from him.

“I hope Asshai and the shadow lands treated you well.” the man smiles with rotted teeth.

“It was a very eye opening experience. I learned many things that only the shadows whisper.” I return his predatory smile.

“Enlighten me,” he drawls.

My magic slinks out of me and pierces into his corpse of a body. He chuckles lowly as it circles around his heart but it disappears quickly as I delve deeper to constrict around his remaining life force.

“You know what I seek and I shall have it or your eternity will be cut short.” I nod my head to him as my magic begins to encapsulate his magic.

“You have gone where we won’t even tread.” his voice a whisper as his eyes cloud over with blackness.

“Do you wish for me to take you there?” I tilt my head.

The scene warps around us and we’re back in the hall with the rest of the Undying. They look on as their leader is crumbling to the floor and they all shoot to their feet. Aegon is ever silently sitting next to me watching me in silent awe.

“Enough!” they shout and I slowly begin to pull my magic back.

“Bring him out.” the leader coughs as his breathing simmers.

The only features that I see are different about the man walking into the room in front of me is shorter hair and blue eyes. Aegon stands as he approaches and looks to him shaking his head. He turns to me with tears in his eyes and I rise to his side. The three of us link hands and shut our eyes and when we open them we are back in our small apartment in Bravos.

“Can I do it now?” he releases my hands as the man with us looks blankly ahead.

“Before you do,” I pull him to me and place my lips on his. “I would be content to spend the rest of my days with you as you are now, Aegon.” I pull back look to him and nod my head.

He turns to the man and pulls a knife from his waist. He brings it up and quickly slips it across the man’s neck and helps him ease to the ground. As he rises I look to the scarred man on the ground and begin to trail my eyes up to the man before me. As my eyes travel up to his face I see he’s still focused on his former self on the ground.

“How strange.” Aegon says tilting his head at the body. “I feel so free.” his eyes make their way to mine as I take in his now stormy blue eyes.

“Your magic is the same. You are the same Aegon to me.” I wave my hand at the body and it disappears into a black cloud of shadow.

He pulls me to the bath room and he stares in the mirror. He’s touching his face and running his fingers through his hair. For the first time I truly feel his magic settled and content. It rests against mine lulling it. Our eyes lock in the mirror and he turns to me.

“Do you like the way I look?” he asks me nervously.

“I do.” I reassure him pulling him into a hug.

“I can kiss you properly now.” he murmurs into my neck. “My face won’t feel so rough. Both of my hands will be smooth as they explore every inch of you. I have a full head of hair you can pull on when I’m buried between your thighs. Men won’t think they can so easily steal you from me.” his words are laced with promises that tear through me.

“You know I didn’t care what you looked like before.” I whisper holding him tighter to me.

“But I did. So thank you for helping me.” he kisses my neck softly as I shutter. “I never expected you to do this for me when you walked into my chambers all those moons ago.” he holds me tighter still peppering kisses along my pulse.

He kisses up my jaw until he locks our lips together. His hand buries itself in my hair molding me to him. I moan into his mouth and pull him closer to me. My hands trail up to his now short hair and pull it as he groans into my mouth.

“I want you, I need you. Please,” he pulls back from my lips and looks to me desperately as I feel his need pulsing around the room.

“You have me.” I nod to him as he attaches his lips back to mine.

He walks us out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. He starts to pull off my dress quickly and groans when he takes in my body. His hands immediately roam over my skin as I shiver at his soft touch. His fingertips are hot with his magic thrumming through him.

“I just want to touch you.” he says softly as he lays me back on the bed.

His hands glide along my curves and he settles above me. He kisses me once more as his fingers dip between my legs. I shutter at his light teasing touches as he chuckles against my lips.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” I whine as his fingers travel around my core avoiding where I want him.

He kisses down my throat and licks across my chest. He sucks a nipple into his mouth as a gasp falls from my mouth. His other hand goes to my other to flick against it until I’m pushing my chest up into his face. His short hair tickles across my stomach as he dips between my thighs. He kisses my thighs as I try to control my breathing as I watch him.

He licks slowly up my slit and my head falls back to the pillow. His tongue spreads my wetness before licking up to my clit swirling around it. He closes his lips around me and begins a rhythm that has me bucking into his mouth.

“Aegon,” his name falls from my lips repeatedly as my hand snakes into his hair.

He groans against me and continues to lick against me. I come on his mouth as he continues at a faster speed before slamming his fingers into me. My legs try to shut around his head and he just chuckles into my core as my legs capture him. His fingers quicken and I’m moaning like I belong in a pleasure house and he tears more pleasure from me.

“I’d be happy to spend the rest of my days here.” he kisses my sensitive bud causing me to shutter.

He rises off the bed and I look at him with heavy eyes. He slowly removes his clothes as if he’s taunting me and I sit there and lick my lips patiently. He looks to me with darkened eyes as he strokes himself.

“I was worried my cock would be smaller.” he chuckles lowly as I squirm watching him touch himself.

He crawls over me and takes my lips for his own. I feel the confidence of his movements and he becomes more sure of himself. He grinds his hips against mine as he slides through my wetness. He lines himself up and pushes into me groaning loudly.

I whimper as he starts to move his hips. At first it’s slow and then it turns into the fiery passion like his magic. His hips pound into mine as I cling to him. His lips swallow my moans as kisses me full of teeth and tongue. His hips start to falter as I grind my hips against his.

“I’m sorry I’m not gunna last much longer,” he grunts against my mouth as he chases his pleasure.

His magic caresses against mine and I feel hot pleasure wash over me as his warmth begins to fill me. I clench around him while his hips continue to slowly grind into me. He kisses me slowly as he allows us to continue to feel our pleasure. He releases me and lays next to me but pulls me close against him.

“I never would’ve thought I could do that again. I was scared I would have to fantasize about you forever.” he giggles as he starts to pepper kisses across my chest.

“Aegon,” I whimper as my hand flies to his hair.

“Do you want me to grow it out again?” he looks up to me.

“Whatever makes you happy,” I hum down at him.

“What about my eyes? Are you sad they aren’t violet anymore?” he searches my eyes.

“I love your blue eyes as much as I did your violet ones.” I hum cupping the side of his face.

“Do you want to stay in Bravos or should we go somewhere else?” he looks to me.

“Let’s decide that in the morning.” I bring his lips to mine once more.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fic #hotd x reader #aegon smut #x reader #x reader smut #got smut #reader smut #hotd fanfic

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mskenway97 · 2 years ago

Text

Bot in flames

I have been wanting to write this for a long time and I started thinking about heat cycles in robots.

My mind was focused on bayverse optimus prime and I came up with all this.

Forgive me but I couldn't help but want to XD.

Bayverse Optimus Prime X Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: You are a new mechanic working at NEST after the problems in Egypt, you became very close to the autobot leader, until one moment he started to avoid you, the rest of autobots warnning to you. Until you find out why.

Occurs between revenge of the fallen and dark of the moon.

Words: 2,451

Warnings: heat cycles, belly budge, cumflation, masturbation, multiple orgasm, size difference,possessive, g/t

You had always been interested in technology, you had gone into mechanics although many people would not take you seriously in what you were doing. Until you started seeing something that caught your attention, the Mission City events.

A lot of people said it was a lie, a hoax… Other websites said they had witnesses and testimonies about giant robots. You tried to see more images but nothing.

Everything seemed to be a lie until a giant robot appeared on your TV telling you that you were not alone, that there were more beings in the galaxy. That even though everyone was scared, you were more interested but you were just a mechanic, no matter how much you wanted to meet them you were not going to find them, until you received a letter because of your knowledge, they were needed at the base of NEST.

They blindfolded you and put you in a black car without asking, like the movies, the ride was a bit long until you got to an interrogation room, showing if you had a criminal record, not to reveal the information here without ending up dead. Once finished they took you outside a huge hangar and put you on hold, until a middle-aged man who seemed to be the general, came to pick you up in person.

-Y/N, General Lennox we have seen that your knowledge in mechanics and your project of coexistence between machines and humans is unique. I'm just telling you try to stay calm, you're going to be surrounded by autobots. The first time is usually a surprise.

He wasn't lying when he took me to another hangar with huge beings of different sizes looking at you. I had a feeling of nervousness, butterflies and above all that he would not try to give me a heart attack. It was one thing to see fuzzy pictures on the web sites you had seen and another to see them in person…. Besides your height was not the tallest, you literally understood how the ants felt.

You saw the biggest of them all approaching, it seemed to be the leader, with red and blue flames, with what looked like parts of a truck, despite your situation it seemed interesting to you.

-Y/N, my name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots…. It is a pleasure to meet you, we read your project, it caught our attention, in part we need more human allies that promise us their commitment. If you decide to leave I will understand your motives but if you stay you will be apprenticed to one of our best doctors as well as learning about the coexistence you seek. Do we have your word?

You were trying to calm down when you saw that huge being kneeling in front of you and the rest of them looking at you, seeing that your nervous system was somewhat altered by the situation. Trying to calm down until you felt Lennox's hand on your shoulder as they were waiting for your answer.

You nodded as your mouth had gone dry trying to speak, the giant black robot was amused by your nervousness, he moved closer showing his cannons causing you to stumble to the ground, making him laugh.

-I like this squishy…. I'm going to like working with you

Well in the rest of the news they started to introduce you to the rest of the team, you already knew names like Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Sidewispe, etc. And the rest of the facilities, they put you in charge of working with Ratchet.

The weeks of adaptation were somewhat curious, as you were startled by every scare the twins and Sidewispe gave you.

Ratchet carefully taught you the systems of a robot to take care of them carefully: you learned the different parts of the body of a cybertronian, Ironhide taught you the workings of the weapons although his demonstrations still scared you so much firepower that you reflexively hid behind his leg.

Your favorite sessions were with Optimus, even though he was the biggest of them all, he was very nice to you… You started to get a little more trusting as you told each other about different experiences. He told you about his culture, his planet… You were more and more interested, he was also interested in your customs, your history. Besides, I know that his way of treating you was to carry you in his servos with care, sometimes he was contemplating, with his finger he touched your cheek, it was a strange contact but you felt quite comfortable. He had also put you on his shoulder. You didn't know if it was friendship you had with this bot, but you were happy to finally have a confidant.

You had been in NEST for a few months now, you learned quickly but there was something that had been bothering you in the last week about the behavior of a certain autobot leader.

At first it seemed to you that he was stressed out from the missions in order to find Megatron but every time you were near an Autobot he would get sideways and also with the humans you were working with. You don't talk like before either, every time you tried to talk to him alone he would disappear saying he had something else to do. This was starting to bother you a lot but with the meetings you didn't have the time or the moment.

-Y/N aren't paying attention to the lessons…. - Ratchet said as he tapped me on his digit.

-Sorry, Ratchet, I just had something else on my mind.

-You should be focused on where you are right now. Although I guess it's about Optimus right?

You were surprised to see that the doc bot had guessed it. Seeing your expression, he laughed at you a little.

-It's obvious, everyone at the base is aware of you… The truth is, we haven't seen Optimus happy with someone in millennia.

You sighed as I grabbed the tools and went to work on one of Ironhide's weapons.

-I don't understand his behavior lately… He's been acting so strange, I'm worried.

Ratchet cleared his throat as he became serious while forcing you to look at him with his digits on your chin - This business you should stay out of, y/n. He'll get over it, just try not to be alone with him.

You didn't understand why Ratchet gave you that advice you tried, he looked at you again - Believe me y/n, it's best to keep your distance from Optimus for now.

There was something you didn't understand about what was going on, you asked the rest of the Autobots about it, almost everyone gave you fuzzy answers about what was happening to the autobot leader, until you got to Ironhide who gave you another warning that left you even more surprised.

-Squishy, there are some things you shouldn't meddle with no matter how curious you are. Although if you solve your doubts I wish you luck so you can get out of it - said Ironhide

You were thoughtful about everything you had heard from the autobots, you missed Optimus since the last few months you had felt an attachment to the autobot leader that went beyond friendship with him. You admitted that you had fallen in love with that big guy with blue optics, his kindness, his authority and obviously his height and figure.

Although you were still curious about what was going on, you decided to follow the advice of the autobots not to be alone with the autobot leader for the time being. You were succeeding but every time you entered a room his gaze followed you everywhere. You literally felt like cat and mouse, there would come a time when cat would end up getting what he wanted even though you didn't know what.

Until one day when you were almost ready to leave because you had overstayed your welcome at the base, you heard a noise in the hangars.

Lennox and the military team explained to you that the farthest hangars of the base were for storage or special equipment for both autobots and humans. Something in your instincts told you that you should not go there but you decided to go out of curiosity, you opened the big door carefully, that place was dark so you stepped carefully not to touch anything dangerous.

Your nerves were on edge and the adrenaline was the only thing that kept you moving, you were getting closer to the source of the noise, at the same time you were seeing that there was smoke around, making this put you more alert than before, it was clear that you were not alone in this place.

You came to see a dim light at the back of the warehouse, it was difficult to pass with so many boxes around but you passed as you could. Finally you arrived carefully at the origin where you were surprised to see who was there.

It was Optimus, with his exhaust pipes producing smoke while on a large part of his body there was a pink liquid around his body.

You were about to approach to see if he was okay but you stopped when you heard him…

He was moaning?

He was at the same time rubbing what seemed to be his spike, while there was even more transfluid.

You remembered certain lessons that gave you some embarrassment from Ratchet. You were trying to remember but seeing the leader like that made you tingle. You shook your head it was clear you were not supposed to be here. You were going to tread carefully until you heard him moaning your name….

You tried to leave carefully until you bumped into one of the crates making a lot of noise.

-Who's there?" growled the autobot leader.

You tried to hide quickly only to feel a servo around your body. You closed your eyes, you were trembling at the sight.

-Look at me...

You opened your eyes to see how it was caressing you with its digits. - How long have you been here? - asked the autobot leader.

That tone made you shiver, it didn't seem like Optimus was the one he was talking to.

- I haven't seen anything, I'll leave without bothering...

-No... I've been avoiding this situation for the past few weeks, feeling jealous of the rest that came close to you and what hurts me the most is that you started avoiding me. My y/n... This time, you are going to stay by my side.

You didn't understand what was happening, until two of his fingers were touching your thighs making you shudder.

- You know how much I wanted you, your kindness and curiosity. Your smile, your beauty... and your figure. Oh Primus, my spike was begging to enter your body. To make you mine... I know you want it too

You moaned again, as you felt the pressure on your thighs... you were starting to feel hot I knew you should stop but at the same time you wanted to know where I wanted to go.

His optics were watching you seeing a smile on your face.

-Well I see that you agree....

Then you felt his glossa lick your neck and then kiss you while continuing the pressure on your thighs. Right now you were reacting to several streams of pleasure that you never thought was possible.

His digits removed your pants while he kept kissing you and you felt his glossa tasting your taste.

You moaned as you felt a digit around your entrance.

-I'm just preparing your body for the best part... let yourself go, my little one," he whispered in your ear as you felt his digit touching your insides moving up and down making you moan in different ways for the leader's pleasure while he whispered how much he wanted you, he loved you madly but at the same time he didn't want to scare you away.

You moaned again as you looked up at him.

- Then you too... - you said between moans as he digit around your walls.

-Yes... I love you and I need you...

You climaxed as he pulled out his digit and licked it. He smiled at you as you caught your breath. You thought you were going to rest but you saw he was bringing his spike closer.

-We're not done yet... I want to feel you more... Mine all mine

You were going to protest but you felt his spike enter inside of you and saw a big bulge through your body. He started to move slowly.

-You are so tight

As you gasped as you tried to take it, it overcame the digit. Once he adjusted to your body he began to move faster and faster and you both gasped at the same pace. He was about to climax, you fell in as he could.

-Wait I can't... ah! It's going to be too much.

-Ah! -Easy... i can't out! Ah! Oh Primus! - gasped Optimus as well.

You both climaxed as you felt your body fill with the transfluid.

Your belly completely swollen as he carefully removed his spike while some transfluid fell out.

-That was... Intense - you said while touching your belly - What happened to you?

Optimus kissed your forehead as he placed you close to his chest.

- We have heat cycles something your species would say in heat, I couldn't take it anymore.... I should have done it sooner though, my little one.

You smiled and I snuggled close.

-Then I won't move away next time.

Optimus chuckled and held you close.

You had learned a lesson from the heat cycles, something that was not to be the last time.

#sam writes #optimus prime #transformers #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #transformers x reader #robot x human #maccadam #maccadams #valveplug #transformers g/t #g/t #bayverse optimus prime #i wanted show this so long #i finally finished it #optimus #size difference

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