#He’s not like limping in the floor. I WAS CONSIDERING IT but no-

[whereismyhat5678]

Me when I actually draw Kaufmo:

👁️💗👁️

Anyways- did some doodles of the silly 🫶🫶💕💕

And Tw: for body horror 👇 (It’s him abstracting..)

(If the quality looks like shit I am so sorry, for some reason IT ISN’T NOT BLURRING THE LINEART AND I HATE IT‼️‼️ >:(()

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

[rogueddie]

Steve had been watching the kids play D&D with Robin. They were curled up on a beanbag together, almost painfully wrapped up together. It was so normal that no one batted an eye. And the two of them sitting in the corner to watch the kids play had also become routine enough that it was more unusual to find their corner empty.

Nothing about the afternoon, the day, or even the week, was in anyway odd or unusual. Steve had been feeling better, if anything. It showed too. Even Mike had pulled Dustin aside to ask what had him to much happier. But it was just the fact that everything was starting to look up- Max had taken a noticeable turn for the better, the cracks infection of Hawkins was increasingly slowing down and the amount of monsters had slowed down to the point that Steve didn’t even need to join the patrols.

All in all, Steve considered it a good month. What could possibly go wrong?

The room had started spinning so violently and so suddenly that he couldn’t hold in his confused, distressed noise. All heads in the room turned, just in time to see Steves eyes roll back, slumping back.

“Steve?!” Robin says, shaking him. She struggles to get up with most of him still wrapped around her, with how limp he’s suddenly gone. “Steve!”

Dustin is there in seconds, knees thudding to the floor next to them. “Steve! Oh, shit. Steve!”

“Has he just fainted?” Will asks, stepping forward with the others, hovering nearby. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“Check his pulse,” Mike suggests.

They’re all quiet, tense, watching Robins fingers shift on Steves neck.

“I can’t find it!” She sobs.

Dustin, who’d been checking his pulse via his wrist at the same time, yells, “no, I got it! It’s- shit, it’s faint.”

“Call for an ambulance,” Will tells Mike, already heading for the door. “I’m gonna get El!”

Dustin and Robin struggle, but eventually lift him enough for her to stand up. She insists he check for Steves pulse again, beginning to pace, pulling at her hair.

“Maybe it’s something to do with his head,” she continues to ramble. “I mean, he’s been hit a lot, that must have done some damage, right? And, like, I didn’t notice any lights flickering, but maybe he did and-”

“Robin!”

“Yes?”

“Not helping.”

“RIght. Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment, continuing to pace, glancing towards the door. Mike can be heard talking on the phone. “But it’s gotta be something normal and easy to explain, right? It’s not like… it’s not like Vecna could have done this… right?”

But Dustin turns to her, slowly, frowning. “Maybe. It would explain why things might have suddenly gotten better. Vecna could still be weak, so a direct attack would take all his energy.”

They both turn, looking at Steve. But there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. He just looks… asleep.

“-in here!” Will is saying, rushing into the room, El hot on his heels.

El gently pushes Dustin aside, kneeling down beside Steve. She grabs his hand, quickly closing her eyes.

She stays there for a long time. Long enough that Mike comes back, warning them that the ambulance should be there any minute. Robin starts to pace again, whilst Will bites his nails. Dustin stays crouched beside El, staring at Steve like he’s tempted to try and jump inside his head alongside El.

“He is… not here.” She eventually says, opening her eyes.

“What does that mean?” Robin asks.

“He is not here,” El repeats. She looks as confused as everyone else. “His mind. It’s… not here.”

“You mean like… Max?” Will says.

“No…” El looks back to Steve. “Her mind is… empty. Hiding. He is gone.”

In the Upside Down, Steve wakes up.

His body doesn’t… feel right. He tries to stand up but, as soon as he tries, his legs wobble and he falls onto all fours… but…

Steve hesitates, looking down nervously. And, if the size of the world hadn’t given it away, the fluffy little paws he’s met with do. He tries to move his hands up, tries to tell himself that he’s just seeing things- but the paws move instead. The wrong feelings match up with the furry little body he’s in.

Panic bubbles up, so overwhelming that he gags. The noise he makes, though, only makes him panic more.

It takes him a long moment to realize that it’s him that’s yowling. It’s him making those sounds. It’s him… meowing.

“Woah, hey,” a soft voice coos. “How’d you get in here?”

Steve jumps around, hissing- but immediately stops. Because that’s…

“Eddie?” Steve tries to say. The meow he makes instead sounds curious.

Eddie smiles, awing at him. He crouches down, slowly extending a hand towards him. “Hi there, little guy. You got a mouth on you, huh? Heard you all the way from the trailer park. You must be pretty spooked. Did you fall in here?”

Steve stares at him, amused and annoyed. He huffs, sitting down, before pointedly tapping one of his paws on the floor. He still remembers the simple morse that Eddie had used to flash their SOS to Dustin… he’s pretty sure.

He barely gets two short taps done, before Eddie Is lifting him up. His hand curls under Steves belly, pulling him up to his chest. Steve yowls, annoyed- but Eddie shushes him. He glances behind him, which is when Steve realizes that he’s scared.

Then he hears the subtle sounds of movement. Something… stalking towards them.

Steve realizes, then, just how vulnerable he is like this. He’s tiny. He’s a fucking cat. If Eddie drops him, leaves him behind for whatever reason, he has no chance of survival.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Eddie whispers, startled, as Steve tries to worm his way inside Eddies jacket. He tugs it open though, curling an around around himself so Steve has some support. “That’s a good idea, you stay there, ok? Stay quiet, shh shh.”

Eddie is still, not moving or even breathing, for a long moment.

Eventually, he heaves a great sigh, gently prying Steve out from inside his jacket. He's careful to support him whilst holding him up for inspection, one hand around his chest and under his front... legs? But he has his other hand flat underneath him to sit on.

"You're so fluffy," Eddie mumbles, turning Steve around. "And clean. Where did you even come from?"

Steve grumbles, trying his hardest to glare.

It just makes Eddie laugh. "You're a fiesty little thing, aren't you?"

He pulls Steve closer, propping him up against his chest, starting to walk... deeper into the forest.

Steve tries to make his confusion clear, though he's not sure it works.

"It's ok, I have a little base set up at Harringtons place," Eddie explains, absentmindedly petting Steves head. "Not many vines there, so it's pretty safe."

Steve tries to wriggle around at the mention of his name, bringing a paw up to pat at Eddies chest, urgently.

"Hey, sh, it's ok," Eddie coos, stroking him from head to butt- Steve hates how much it does sooth him. "You're ok. I'll find you something to eat, ok? You're gonna be fine." Eddie glances down at him, humming. "I should name you, shouldn't I?"

Steve feels his ears droop. He's sure that Eddie will insist on giving him some D&D name, or some other nerd-

"Stevie," Eddie says, grinning at how quickly Steve perks up. "You're just like him, you know? Pretty, fluffy, soft... but also, a little bitchy."

Pretty?

"I shouldn't bore you with stories of old high school crushes though, should I, kitty?"

Steve meows, jumping up. He's too curious now.

Eddie laughs. "Alright, alright... but it's a long story! Don't say I didn't warn you. It starts in 83, he was a year below me..."

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiiii I wanted to request hazbin boys x injured male reader? Reader gets into a scuffle, gets roughed up quite a bit and comes home not looking too well (I wanna see em fuss over the reader lol)

Mmph, yes yes, I love boys fussing over their injured darling. Too fuckin cute! I have so many great requests for Hazbin and Helluva, I’m so excited 🫨 thanks for the request and enjoy anon 💟

Notes: gn!reader bc anyone can get into a scuffle so why not, mostly fluff with a sprinkle of angst

TW: blood, bruises, fighting, cussing, of course it’s suggestive during Angel’s part 😉

Includes Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and Alastor

Hazbin boys x reader- Bruises 🖤

You’re not sure who roughed you up, you barely got a look at the dudes before you were laid out on the dirty sidewalk getting punched and trying to push one of the perpetrators off you. Whoever he was, he was strong and brutal and must’ve really had a problem with you because damn, you were fucked up. Not that you couldn’t hold your own, but there was more than one of them and they really caught you off guard. You had suffered several blows to the face and a few kicks to the stomach and back. Seemed like the group showed just a bit of mercy tho- they could’ve broken your legs or straight up killed you. Luckily, you limped away with only minor injuries but a huge blow to your psyche. While it could’ve been worse, it was horrific and traumatizing regardless.

It’s hard trying to stay tough and take care of yourself because you’re scared, feeling like you’ll have to look over your shoulder from now on when you’re out on the streets. It was also a bit embarrassing considering Husk and Angel offered to tag along with you to keep you safe but your dumb ass insisted you were fine alone.

It was late now, around the time everyone went to bed at the hotel so you were expecting to silently creep inside, hobble to your room and take care of yourself in secret. And if anyone asked about the marks or bruises the next day, you’d just blame it on a wild night of partying. To your surprise, as you walk in the door the entirety of the hotel’s staff and residents were sitting on the floor and couches in the front room, drinking and talking by the fireplace. Of course, Charlie had everyone doing some bonding bullshit late at night. The sound of the door clicking open has everyone’s eyes looking towards you now. “Ah, shit…” Leaves your swollen lips as the crowd gasps and one by one, they all stand and approach your damaged figure. Finally, the one person you really didn’t want to see you like this comes rushing forward to get a good look at you.

Lucifer 🍎

“Oh, Satan! (Y/N), are you okay? What happened? Ohhh, my poor angel!”

Proceeds to fuss and worry over you while wearing the saddest expression :,( his poor bb

Might actually cry a little…just hurts him to see his darling all banged up.

It’s not just the physical pain he senses, it’s the emotional pain you feel too- the fear and the trauma and the stress of it all

His hands just hover all around the most damaged parts of you- fingers almost touching your eye which was now swollen shut, his thumb ghosting over your busted bottom lip

Whisks you away to his room and runs you a bath. Gets you all clean and is probably still whining and crying over you as he watches the bath water turn red with all the blood washing off you and gets you ready for bed.

He’s an emotional man, okay?

He also feels extremely guilty for not being there to protect you. Even if you bluntly told him you don’t need his protection, he feels like it’s still his fault at least a little bit.

Miiiiiiight start a silly little argument over you never leaving the hotel or his side ever again lol

“I just want to protect you, my love. Please! Stop being stubborn.”

He’ll really really baby you tho.

Like even if your legs are working fine, NOPE! Don’t move an inch. Luci will carry you anywhere you desire.

“Lucifer, I just have a black eye and some scrapes. I can walk just fine, babe.”

And he’ll just ignore you and continue to coddle you and do everything for you

For sure this man peppers very gentle, very soft and slow kisses on your tender face once you’re cleaned up and finally resting in his bed

And he for sure cries again in the morning when he wakes up and your face looks even worse

Probably even panics a bit like-

“IM TAKING YOU TO A HOSPITAL OH MY SATAN!!! MY POOR BABY WWAAAA!”

“It’s just some bruises! Luci, they always look worse before they look better, I’m fine.”

Just calm him down with some kisses and words of love

Angel Dust 🕸️

“Holy shit! What happened, babe? Oh no…this is bad. This is sooo bad! This is why we wanted to go with ya.”

Also gets very dramatic and concerned, looks so sad over your battle wounds

But of course he’s a flirt even under tough circumstances and can make a dirty joke even in the most dire situations

He’d definitely tell you you look hot asf and that you’re soooo brave~

Tries to lighten the mood a bit

“(Y/N), I wanna be the only one who gets to rough you up.” *pouts but also winks at you*

Angel has had his fair share of beatings courtesy of Valentino so he’s very good at first aid and knows tons of tricks to help with bruising, cuts, scrapes, preventing scars, relieving the pain.

He’s great at the clean up part but even better at the comfort part

Brings out all six arms to wrap you up in while you lay in his bed, cuddling up to you while offering soft kisses to the parts of you that aren’t so sore.

Angel is always down to fuck so if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll offer you some great sexual healing while being oh so careful of all your wounds and all the painful spots.

Will let you take control too, he hopes it’ll make you feel better and maybe return some of the confidence you lost from this scuffle.

He can spot a bruised ego from a mile away and he’ll do anything to get you feeling happy and secure again.

Also argues with you about never letting you go anywhere alone ever again lol he just loves you too much. If you’re gonna get jumped, he’s either gonna be there to help you out of it or he’s gonna be taking half the beating right next to you.

Reminds me of a song…

“I wanna walk with you, wherever you go to. I wanna hurt with you. Whatever you go through, I do too.” -sour switchblade by Elita

Yeah that’s Angel, just wants to be beside you no matter the circumstances

Husk 🃏

“Oh, you dummy! This is why we wanted to go with you. Oh, doll face. Who did this? You alright?”

Yeah, he’s mean sometimes so he’s gonna scold you for going out alone before the comforting starts.

Ultimately, he doesn’t pull you away to get you cleaned up or anything. Lets you decide what to do next, where to go. He just follows you and keeps a hand on you somewhere to let you know he’s here for you.

Will whip up any drink you ask for in hopes of it relieving the pain a bit

But he’s sneaky, he’s gonna ask you tons of questions about what happened, who did it, where you were, how many of them there was. Won’t give you your drink until you answer him.

Husk is plottin and schemin, wanting to get back at the assholes who did this to you. Hes thinking about all the cool, little weapons he has and what he can do with them to teach those jerks a lesson.

In the end tho, he does get more sentimental and soft spoken later while cuddled up to you in bed.

He’ll purr softly in your ear while letting his hands gently roam your body, tracing comforting circles all over your bruised skin

Will def wrap you up in his silky wings and then proceed to pour out his entire heart to you.

“I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay. You need to listen to me. I know better than you, I’ve been down here a long time. You have to be more careful. I dunno what I’d do if I lost ya, doll. You gotta stick with me, I’ll always protect ya.”

Once you fall asleep, he wanders out to the lobby to find Angel at the bar and there they talk about teaming up to get revenge on the assholes who dared to touch Husk’s little babe

The next morning, of course they’re still talking about it. You’ll have to tell these idiots to stop and just let it go bc omg they sound crazy rn they’re gonna make a mess if you let this continue

Buuuut if you kinda like them fussing over you this much, then by all means let them do their thing as you sit back and enjoy the attention

Ooooh, Husky is getting maadddd. Kinda cute when he lets a protective growl slip out while talking to Angel. Aww he loves you~

Sir Pentious 🐍

Immediate tears and full blown panic attack at the sight of your battered face.

“OH MY GOODNESSSSSS!!! My baby! My darling! Ohhhhhh, you poor thing, come here! I’ll take care of you.”

Doesn’t care that the entirety of the hotel residents are crowded around watching you two- Pentious holds you like a baby in his arms and carefully sinks to the ground with you, holding you so tight it actually kinda hurts due to all your bruises.

Cries for a while like this- goes back and forth between examining your bruises and cuts and bloody nose with his watery eyes to then burying his face in your neck as he weeps for you.

“Pen, I’m okay. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I CAN’T HANDLE IT!!! You’re too pretty to be beaten up like thisssss. Aawwwww.” And he’s crying even harder now.

And this goes on for a while until you finally decide to get up and go to your room with him to get cleaned up.

Babies the absolute fuck out of you- brings you food in bed and tries to feed it to you, gets you in the bath and refuses to let you touch anything while insisting he do all the work for you, carries you everywhere.

It’s actually so nice tho- he washes your hair for you real slow and firm as he scrubs your scalp, very carefully washes the dirt and dry blood from your skin only to reveal more bruises he hadn’t seen before, carefully applies ointment to your bloody cuts and scrapes

Listen…this man is not gonna stop crying until you are 100% healed up. Even the next morning, you wake up beside him to see his face wet with tears as he sniffles.

At least you know he really truly deeply cares for you and loves you 💚

“Oh, it’s okay, babe. I’m felling so much better today, especially since I get to start my morning in bed with you.”

And now he decides he’s gonna keep you in bed all day and continue to baby and pamper you

Keeps his tail and most of his body wrapped around you loosely all day as you watch movies and relax. Cant stop staring at your face and focusing on each blue and black bruise you wear, eyeing every cut and scrape and the split skin on your lip.

You took a beating and he thinks it’s only fair that you and him stay in bed until you’re truly feeling well enough to resume your normal daily tasks.

Of course, he has to stay with you in case you need something! Can’t leave his injured partner alone, wouldn’t dream of it!

Vox 🖥️

(I know he’s not at the hotel, pretend you just walked into V Tower instead, k?)

REVENGE REVENGE REVENGE

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?! Who? Where? When? HOW FUCKING HOW DARE THEY-“

You’ll have to cut him off or he’ll go on an entire raging tangent about revenge and eventually short circuit lol

“Voxy, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get clean and go to bed.”

He slowly cools off and begins to focus more on you and your injuries, asking if you’re okay or if there’s anything he can do. Now behind closed doors, his entire attitude changes.

He’s following you into every room, watching you with an expression of intense sadness and concern, wishing he could take all your pain and give it to himself instead. He’d suffer for you if it meant seeing you happy and healthy

Sits in the bathroom in silence but keeps you company while you wash up. He might ask if you need help but also wants to give you space and make sure you feel safe

Assists you in getting dressed while making it very romantic and being very attentive. Vox will so slowly slip your pajamas onto you while letting his claws ghost over all your bruises.

Will lean in and kiss your busted lips right as your head pops through the top of your shirt, followed by a smile and probably more kisses

Listen, most of these boys are gonna become way more over protective after this incident okay? Vox is most definitely not an exception

Insists that either He’s gonna be with you every where you go from now on or he’s gonna send security with you every where you go from now on.

And no matter who is with you when you’re out in the streets, his cameras will also be watching over you.

Oh yeah, and he goes back in the cam footage and has a perfect view of the whole incident. He watches it over a few times before ordering a hit on every sinner who dared to mess with his lover.

You’ll never have to worry or look over your shoulder or worry again 😘

Alastor 🩸

Doesn’t say much or even stay long to worry about you at first.

He’s more angry and bent on revenge than anything. He’s worried about you too but he knows you’re strong and can take care of yourself.

He slips off to do some exploring and investigating to find out who did this to you

Spends maybe an hour figuring it out and then promptly goes on a murder spree to take care of all those pesky sinners who dared to lay a finger on his beloved

Okay, now that that’s out of his system, he can come back and take care of you.

Isn’t as cuddly and romantic as the others but he still babies you and refuses to let you do anything for yourself.

“Now now, darling. Just relax. I’ll have you cleaned up and feeling better in no time.”

Bathes you, dresses you, tucks you into bed all while humming slow tunes to you

Doesn’t cuddle you but sits on the bed beside you and gives your head some gentle pets

“You won’t have to worry any longer, my dove. I took care of those degenerates and I’ll never let you wander the streets of hell alone ever again.”

Will place a gentle kiss on your throbbing head before leaving you to rest.

He’s serious tho, anywhere you go he goes too. You’re never leaving his sight again ❤️‍🩹

[psychedelic-ink]

hornee joel request: soft to feral!joel. he's is an acts of service man who sometimes tries to start with softer touches in the dark, but as he gets more worked up those touches become rougher, more desperate. to the point he's got you bent in half, hands on the back of your knees, not even bothering to get fully undressed. gruff, whiskey-scented praise in your ear ("you like that, girlie? that feel good?"). also I heartily agree with pussydrunk!joel anon lol

alright, so when I first read this when you said "to the point he's got you bent in half" my brain immediately jumped to him bending reader over a surface of some kind and only understood what you meant after reading it again but I've already started writing it, sorry for misunderstanding your request! my bad but I hope you enjoy it still <333

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.2k

summary: It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

warnings: rough sex, piv, joel being joel, angry sex, you-almost-died sex, feral!joel

It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. 

In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

Then it starts. His large hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, his confined cock hot and aching under his jeans. It’s only that at first. Grinding, accompanied by heavy breathing. His scarred hands sneak under your shirt, he grips your breasts, flicking your pebbled nipples with the tips of his fingers. When Joel comes he makes a choked-out sound, swallowing his groans either by biting into your shoulder or breathing heavily through his nose. 

It’s just that. 

Until it’s not. 

You expect to die when a clicker tackles you to the hard ground. It makes a jarring move to bite you and you manage to swerve away from it. But you know you can’t hold on for long. This is it. The end. 

A gunshot echoes, then another one, and then another, until the clicker’s lifeless body falls limp on top of you. Joel shoves it away with a kick, lifts—no—he yanks you up from the ground. So hard that your shoulder ached from the sheer force of it. He’s angry, livid even. 

He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the evening. Barely glances at you when you give him his portion of expired Chef Bouyardee. He just scowls, the crease between his brows deep. 

Frustrated, you drop your plate and head further inside the deserted house. Heading into the first room, you notice it probably used to be a study room. Dust covers every surface and you step forward, touching the wooden table. It must’ve looked beautiful before the outbreak. Your fingers leave a trail of shiny wood in its wake. 

You pull away and shake your head, frustrated. 

Joel finds you. Crossing the room with large steps, he grips your waist. He pulls you flush against him, lips finding the skin between your shoulders and neck. You let out a sigh. 

“You’re not mad anymore?” 

“I told you to fuckin’ stay put,” he grunts, pushing you towards the table. “I’m fuckin’ furious.” 

You smell alcohol on his breath. He must’ve taken a couple of swigs before he came to find you, instead of eating. 

You can feel the dust from the table on your skin as he bends you over it. His large hands grip your hips, pushing you down further against the wood. Joel tugs down your pants until the pair hangs loosely over your knees. Kicking your legs further apart, he slides your underwear to the side and enters you in one swift thrust. You gasp, arching your back in response. Pain blossoms between your legs and your head spins. Hints of pleasure prickle at your skin, forcing a choked-out moan from your lips. He moves with an intensity that makes your body quiver, pushing you further and further against the table. 

"You like that, girlie?" he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Does that feel good?"

You shudder at how deep his voice had gone. You nod frantically, moans ripping from your throat. He pulls out enough so it’s only the head of his cock stretching you, and with one sharp thrust, he sinks into your heat. You jerk forward, nails clawing at the table. 

“That’s it, take all of it,” he grinds into you, cock dragging against the soft spot that makes you see stars. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For me to fuck you hard that you forget how shit the world is.” Joel makes a point of emphasizing every word with the slam of his hips. “Sweet thing, you are. Sweet, but fuckin’ reckless.” 

You can feel the splinters of the wood against your skin, but you don't care. Your nerves are on fire —you only feel him and nothing else. The sound of smacking flesh fills the room, his teeth deep in your shoulder as he wraps a hand around your throat. Joel pulls you until your back is flush against him, you hear his belt scraping against the floor with every hard thrust. Your lips part with a gasp. Your lungs expanding with the feel of his hand under your shirt. 

Suddenly his hips still. You’re surprised at how fast tears flood your eyes, blurring your already hazy vision. You whimper, and his cock twitches at the sound. 

“You gonna listen to me from now on?” he asks. “Are you gonna behave?” 

“Yes,” you whimper, sniffling. “I will just…move, please.” 

You lose your grounding, the room around you turning upside down. You find yourself sitting on the desk, your knees being pushed up until they touch your head. Your spine aches, however, the feeling is quickly forgotten when he pushes himself back inside. He feels bigger somehow, thicker.

Joel doesn’t say another word after that. He jackhammers his hips into yours like you’re a toy for him to use. Your breathing grows heavier, every nerve in your body coming alive. Between half-lidded eyes, you notice him looking down, watching his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt.

You’re shaking when his thumb starts circling your clit, heat swirls in your stomach, your muscles tense. Your body tingles with your nearing orgasm. It’s a steady push until Joel decides to part your folds as he fucks himself impossibly deeper. 

Tiny black dots dance across your vision and you cry out. Suddenly everything feels a hundred times more intense, your aching sex a ball of flame. Your fingers seek him out, a need to touch, to feel his heat against your skin. But you can barely reach his thighs with the way the two of you are positioned, the tips of your fingers desperately trying to take a hold of the tense muscle. 

You let out a shaking breath as your orgasm hits you like a truck. It doesn’t come in small, building waves. It’s violent and vivid, the pleasure needling into your skin. Joel finally grants you your wish and releases your legs, as they fall and frame his broad waist, you weakly wrap your arms around him. Only after the fact do you realize he leaned in for your embrace. Craving it as much as you do. 

He keeps still until your tremors have subsided, his lips etched into your neck, kissing and nipping the soft flesh. He’s still hard, cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

“You good?” he breathes out. 

“Yeah.” 

“A’right.” 

You don’t expect him to pull out, hence you’re not ready to be left empty. But the sight he provides you is worth it, he grips his cock, his fist moving in solid, fast, strokes over your stomach. 

He grunts as he comes, spurting his hot cum over your stomach in thick, white streams. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of him. His body shudders, his grip on his cock tight as he continues to stroke himself. His eyes are closed with the intention to hide his bliss, his lips parted. You hear the groans he tries to bite back, and arousal sets your body aflame once more. 

He finally finishes, and his hand falls to his side, his breathing heavy and deep. Both of you too frightened to say a word. 

[504py]

Do you have any thoughts on yandere SDV Harvey?🤔

i sure do!!!! i think i got a little carried away 😭😭😭 i hope i delivered!

Yandere Harvey Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, no use of Y/N, munchausen syndrome by proxy, implied murder, implied NSFW, Harvey's a little weird about bodily fluids and food, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

Let's say, he knows you outside of his work, and somehow, you're the one person in Stardew Valley who has never entered his clinic before. Honestly, you'd have drawn his attention right then and there because of your strange imperviousness to harm or disease.

Like... You? That farmer who goes down into the mines every other day to fight monsters has never been injured? You, who works day and night to the point of exhaustion has never gotten sick and required medical assistance?

The fact that you weren't one of his patients would worry him to his bones.

Even if you weren't one of his patients, he'd have befriended you outside of work. Perhaps at the saloon, after hours, and one of the very rare times he's seen you relax.

He notices the slight limp as you enter, different from your usual gait. When he asks, you chalk it up to a rock in your boot. Harvey sends you a disapproving stare and a furrowed mustache, and you loosen up.

You tell him you tripped while running away from a slime in the mines. And that you maybe pulled something while running. And maybe you lifted something wrong yesterday and hurt your back. And-

Harvey takes off his glasses to rub at the space between his eyebrows, stressed.

"And not once did you think to come visit me?"

"Thought it would go away if I just slept and drank enough water."

His gaze softens.

"..I really do advise it. Please."

Your fingers play with your glass. He can see a bruise forming on the side of your wrist, and the cuts and calluses on your skin.

"...I'll do it tomorrow."

He sighs slightly.

"Well, since I can't do anything for you right now, I'll at least buy you a drink."

"You can do that?"

"Hey, it numbs the pain. Painkiller." He jokes, and you laugh and shake your head. He realizes he likes the sound of your laugh.

"But- wait, don't take that as real medical advice. Really. Please."

That pulls another laugh out of you, louder, and pink warms his cheeks as he laughs heartily alongside you.

The next evening, Harvey waited all day for you to come in. It was nearing closing hours, and he was worried you had disregarded his advice, but right as he got up to start closing the clinic, the door opens, and there you are, leaves in your hair and your muddy shoes leaving a track on his tiles.

He's elated, he knows he shouldn't be, considering why you're even here, but he's so glad you listened to him, so glad you're here. He looks noticeably flustered, his hair is slightly out of place, his glasses are sliding down his nose, and his tie is loose.

"O-Oh, hey there. You finally came in."

"Were you waiting for me? I apologize. It looked like you were about to close up."

He waves your worries away with a dismissive hand, "Ah, what's one more patient? Come on, you look like you really need my help, anyways."

You follow him into a room, cringing at the muddy mess you leave on the floor.

"Sorry for that- I can clean up after we're done."

Harvey insistently shakes his head, sighing your name, "No, no, can't have you doing that, not in the condition you're in." He motions over to the bed, you sit on the edge of it.

"Besides, I haven't even started my assessment of you yet, but I already know you're gonna need a few days of rest at least. Doctor's orders."

He smiles softly at your annoyed expression, donning his stethoscope as you straighten your posture slightly, readying for him to place the other end of the apparatus on you.

"...See, you've got an abnormal heart rate for someone who is at rest."

He notes the warmth of your skin under his palm, resting against your back.

"Have you been feeling ill recently? Runny nose, coughing, headaches, anything of the sort?"

"U-Uh, no." You shake your head, playing with the fabric of your trousers. Nervous.

"...You seem rather flustered. Any reason?"

Your eyes glance up at his, he cocks his head, and you immediately look back down to your feet.

"...Nah."

Harvey smiles, knowingly, and the rest of the appointment continues as normal.

Expectations...

Following this, he'd be more obvious in his attempts to court you. His courting attempts would feel rather old-fashioned, but I think there's a lot of heart in them. I feel like Harvey would be a little bit of a sucker for romantic things, so you'd definitely be receiving letters, all from a secret admirer, of course.

He is confident that he likes you, but he'd carry a lot of anxiety about being so upfront about it, and that perhaps you wouldn't feel the same way.

The letters he sends you would be brief yet sweet. Short messages to pick you up for the day, just wanting to be a part of your life.

"If you ever feel like all the work you do isn't appreciated, know that I am always here, and I always do. You are doing great."

You'd tell him about the letters you've been receiving, during one of your evenings together at the bar. It'd make him blush. Oh, his letters were so important to you that you had to gush about them to a friend?

"And... What do you think of them? The letters?" His eyes are slightly wider than they should be, but the reflections on his glasses hide his faintly, much-too focused expression.

You shy from his eye contact, "...I think they're really sweet. But honestly, I wish they'd just... say it to me directly instead of hiding like this. I want to communicate, talk to them, y'know? Have a conversation, and stuff.."

Harvey blinks, wets his lips.

"What do you think you'd do if he-" He clears his throat, "-they did?"

You frown a little, mulling over the thought for a bit.

"...I'd go on a few dates with them, see if things work out."

His exhale is shaky, he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Who do you think it is?"

You meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, his cheeks are red too, but that might be the alcohol... Though you realize he's not the type to get flushed when drunk.

"...Is it you?"

His fingers around his glass tremble, and his bottom lip quivers.

"I.. w-well..." He pushes his glasses up, nervously running a hand through his hair. You giggle, and he relaxes.

"Yeah." He smiles warmly.

"Yeah?" You chirp out a laugh again, "I figured."

Although Harvey was usually one who didn't have any problem holding eye-contact at all, now he found himself unable to look at you for too long without getting giddy like a schoolgirl and having to look away to save his racing heart.

That night, you two would be declared a couple. He teased you, wondering where that "first few dates then we'll see how it works out" phase went. You said it was different if it was him, and he had to hide his face in his hands to conceal his boyish, cheesy grin.

His first show of affection would be the next morning, when he brought you a bouquet of flowers to your doorstep, but upon arrival, seeing your expansive field of vegetation, he realized it was perhaps a bit stupid to gift flowers to someone who grows them.

Nonetheless, you accepted them from an embarrassed Harvey gratefully, saying you've wanted to try growing these for a while. Lo and behold, the next time he shows up, with a more thought-out gift this time, he sees a few new flower pots on your front porch.

Harvey as your boyfriend is strangely rather maternal. He tends to be quite the worrywart, always fussing over any cuts or bruises you may get while going about your day, making sure you eat and get enough rest, and always making sure you're dressed properly.

Oh, the different kind of monster Harvey turns into during the winter LOL. He will stay posted by your door, making sure you don't step a foot outside without a thick coat or gloves.

He does enjoy more than he likes to admit, though, when you still feel cold and he has to give you his coat or his scarf. It makes him all smiley and he thinks you look adorable in his clothing.

I think, his deepest desire, is for you to always stay safe, and that he is the one to provide that safety. I mean, with him being a doctor, he is the only person qualified to look after you anyways, but he still does get jealous.

He gets really upset when he's out of the clinic for a bit, and finds out that Maru was the one who tended to your wounds instead of him.

He gets more jealous when you tell him about the work you did that day, and another person was with you.

What do you mean you spent the evening fishing while conversing with Elliott? That could've been him...

What do you mean you spent the afternoon in the library with Penny? Wha- Gunther winked at you!?

Harvey really does want to spend more time with you, but he has a duty to attend to.

Unless...

Punishments...

Maybe, one day, Harvey will stop worrying so much over your health. He'll let you do your thing as you please, though it would hurt him to see you going about your day so haphazardly. But he'll hold back on his usual worried malewife nagging, and just let you do you.

One day, your dangerous lifestyle will catch up on you, and maybe you'll catch a cold, or you'll break a bone. Harvey will be there immediately, much too prepared.

Even though this is what he wanted from this plan, he still cries. He hates seeing you so beat-up, but he couldn't think of any other way to always be by your side. At least the tears blow away any suspicion of his part in this.

It could be a tiny fracture, but he'll still insist you'd need a cast, and that you'd need a wheelchair for the first few weeks. And, of course, Harvey's there to coddle you and help you around.

Maru says she can look after you while Harvey runs the clinic, but he gets uncharacteristically hostile at the mere suggestion of this. If Maru were to keep prying, if she were to find out that your injuries aren't as bad as he says they are, then Harvey might have to resort to more drastic measures.

Murder would be a very difficult thing for Harvey to do, but when he thinks about the life you two have right now- having you rely on him for everything, taking care of you everyday, spending every single moment with each other- his heart feels like it could fall out of his chest at the thought of anyone taking that away from you two.

His access to such a wide array of chemicals and medicines would be terrifying. If anyone threatens this peaceful, perfect life between you two, he could simply inject them with a certain concoction during their routine check-ups, say they needed it, that it was medicine, and it wouldn't even show in an autopsy.

Unfortunately, his tampering with human life extends to you.

Harvey, I think, would get much too enamored by this life you two have made since you've gotten injured.

Being able to dote on you with no restraint, being by your side for every single moment, it was all he could ever dream of.

But all good things come to an end, and your fractured bone would start to heal.

He never thought he'd be capable of lying, not sure if he'd ever done it before, but it's a newfound talent to him. Worries him how good he is at it.

He tells you you need to keep that cast on. That even if you're allowed to use crutches now instead of a wheelchair, that you still need his assistance. He insists that you need him.

Any sort of push-back from you would have his heart pounding. No, no, you can't get up and go back to work. You can't be doing chores on your own, he'll do that- You cannot leave.

Munchausen syndrome by proxy from an actual doctor would be a horrifying thing to go through. Not just any other doctor either, but Harvey, a man who seems so gentle and kind-hearted, a man who is supposed to be your partner.

Sad to say, but I don't think you'd have any way out of this. Your best course of action would be to just let him take care of you as much as he pleases. In due time, he would want to see you get better, so you'll be back to having your freedom in a few months, maybe...

Rewards...

It is pretty comedic saying this after that punishments portion, but Harvey, on more normal days, really is a passive man. He doesn't really have any strange obsessive habits, though he's probably a little weird about fluids...

By that, I mean he'd probably slip a little bit of his saliva or semen into his cooking. He gets a really euphoric rush when he sees you eating that tainted food he made for you. He enjoys that idea that a part of him is mingled in your body now. The other way around goes, too.

When you're sleeping, sometimes you drool, did you know that? You probably don't, because Harvey always wipes it off and licks it. It gives him shivers whenever he does, makes him way more excited than it should.

His libido is not the highest, but that's because I think he makes an active effort to suppress himself. Wants to be good for you. Harvey does have these dirty thoughts pretty often, but he usually just excuses himself to the bathroom for a second to relieve himself when it gets too unbearable. Even then, he dislikes this, since he feels like it'd be a waste of his release, since it's not inside you.

Every day would feel very domestic, he'd tease that you two already act like an old married couple, but he'd secretly hope you'd catch on to the idea he's putting down.

Harvey really does want to get married to you. He honestly, strangely, would act a lot more normally if you two were to be wed. It's like, there is something that exists that ties you two together, so even if you two aren't always by each other's side, he at least finds some comfort in knowing you two are bound forever.

Let's just, uh, hope you don't divorce him... Honestly, at this point, he may have already taken care of Mayor Lewis, so that option won't even be open to you anymore.

Harvey would probably try to pop the question during a little picnic he prepared for the two of you. The box for your engagement ring hidden in the picnic basket, amongst carefully wrapped sandwiches and lunchboxes.

You would pick it up while looking through the basket, wondering what it was. You open it, and Harvey feels like he could faint from how fast his heart is beating.

He stutters a lot, being unable to look you in the eye, then you rest a hand on his shoulder, and he feels alright again.

"I... I'd really like to get married with you, my love. Whaddya say?"

You smile at him, you say yes, and Harvey literally shouts in joy, before roughly taking you in his arms.

He quickly apologizes for being so erratic, but he swears he's never been happier. He just loves you so much.

Even though you two were only fiancés at this point, he'd call you his husband/wife/spouse from time to time, just a slip of the tongue, but he does get shy about it.

Your life together would be relatively the same now, just with some more added affection.

He'd get more comfortable around you, kissing you more often, getting more touchy, wearing less clothing around the house.

Of course, his main core value is still there; to care for you.

When thinking of Harvey's love language, you would, rationally, expect it to be acts of service. However, I posit this; his love language would be allowing himself to be taken care of.

He does get tired, and you do notice. You try to do his chores, try to take care of yourself so he'd have some time to relax, but he always gets fussy about it.

He insists that he can still do it, that he can still do things for you. Perhaps, he's scared that if he's unable to please you, that you'll go elsewhere, fall out of love with him.

You can sense that fear, and you tell him you'll still be here. You tell him to go lie down and rest, and you'll join him when you've finished cleaning up.

The wrinkles on his forehead soften up, so does his gaze, and he nods.

"I... Alright, sweetheart. I'll be waiting. Don't take too long, okay?"

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt.8

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

*sigh* let me just feed my starving children. consider this my girl dinner to you all. fully feeding u this time. the day has finally come (in more ways than one)

NSFW AS ALWAYS (but pls extra caution on this one, i got carried away and i don’t want to spoil the surprise) 18+

also i was gonna finish this series at 10 chapters but pls lmk if u want more!

It was far too late to function. You were pulling on many mental threads as you sprawled out on your bed.Sighing into the empty, overly spacious air of your room didn't alleviate anything, you were still wearing Miguel's shirt.

The streetlights dimmed into your room, the warm glow offering nothing to help fix this crack that resided in you. Tossing and turning wasn't helping, your limbs fluctuating from rigid to limp whenever you thought about Miguel. Your sheets were hurled to the floor and your half-naked form contorted at every angle on the bed, nothing was comfortable and you couldn't sleep. Your mind buzzed awake from the lightning shooting down your thighs whenever you inhaled, his shirt was so big on you but it smelled so good, and the fact that he let you just have it.

It smelled like him, his cologne, his natural ambiance, his musk. You rubbed your naked thighs together.

You couldn't help but sigh breathlessly and throw your head back into the pillow, whining at how stimulated you were just by inhaling. For fucks sake. Since when were you this pathetic? You almost wanted to bite into your pillow out of sheer aggression. Today was a cluster fuck of emotions, your lips still felt the tingle of him, your tongue was against his enough that you could still feel him exploring when he wasn't even there. It was like a ghostly touch, tracing against the most sensitive parts of your body. You still couldn't believe that he had finally kissed you, he had finally given in to such a disastrous impulse that he so constantly warned you about. Your pussy fluttered at the fact you affected him enough to go against everything he believed in, that you meant that much to him. The pulse under your heated skin sent your body into an unshakable overdrive.

Miguel tasted like testosterone, anger, and sex. The way you were just pressed against him had slick forming between your thighs. You were so ready for him. You've always been ready for him. The way he gave you a tiny fraction of what he was going to do- what he was prepared to do...well before Peter had to cockblock you into oblivion. He was going to fuck you on the sink like an animal. Hot and Heavy. But then Miguel had to go back into his old ways.

Your throat was raw, and constantly groaning in frustration was a default setting at this point but it was getting worse and worse. You draped your forearm over your eyes, involuntarily arching your back against the mattress and spreading your legs as your stomach lurched. Your pussy would drown in his cum. That seemed to be the last straw. The canines of your teeth dug into your bottom lip at a depth that pierced the blushed tenderness of your lips, tiny holes turned into splits as blood pooled inside of your mouth and slightly dribbled to the outskirts of your mouth and chin.

“Fuck…” You winced out, more pained by the thought of Miguel leaving you unfulfilled than the pulsating of your lips bitten raw.

-

Miguel was aimless, ice doused his heated veins as he swung from building to building. He attempted to convince himself that he was in your universe for any other reason he could get, he was particularly good at lying to himself but in this case, it wasn't. The most honest thought he's had in months is knowing that he wants you.

Miguel knew where he needed to be right now. With you. He hated how he left you in the bathroom, part of him wanted to fuck you while anyone watched, just to show them who you belonged to. But he could never do that.

He groaned as he whacked through the air, his fingers smashing against his neck to get rid of the mask. He felt claustrophobic like you were subconsciously taking away his ability to breathe. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. You had steel in your spine and that only fueled the flames of desire that were lit in him long ago. The roaring fire in your eyes every time you laid into him made him hard as ever, no woman has ever been stupid enough to question him- and then there was you. At HQ you were the perfect picture of cool elegance and competence, you weren't as fun-loving as the others and nowadays Miguel felt like he had pulled that out of you. Miguel frowned at the thought. Your presence evoked an unwanted heat in his gut and a leaking cock to go with it, and he didn't even fucking like you, he just had to deal with you. But now, after all this, you were the name he'd call in the middle of the night. His entitled, needy, girl. He couldn't take two steps without Jess or Lyla gushing to him about how lovely you were

It was galling.

Maybe he could marry you. Fuck you full of his kid.

Jesus Christ.

Miguel squashed the thought with a grimace and a shake of his head. With a grunt he landed on the side of your apartment building, using his claws to dig into the brick, subtIty was never his play but in this certain situation, it was completely off the board. He had no idea what he was going to say to you or if he was going to see you at all he just needed to be near you. He wanted to see those eyes darken in pleasure again, if that's all he could get from a kiss, he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what would happen when he was actually in you. He knew he drew near when the scent of you clouded his brain, he quickly hung from the side of the building until he got to a large window, it was cracked open slightly. Windswept hair made tufts of his hair impair his vision, Miguel peeked his face to get a glance at the window it was your bedroom window.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, sweet face buried in your hands, hair tumbling down your shoulders, contemplating something for a second before standing up.

He could smell how wet you were. Maybe one day he could pour wine all over you, cum on you and then taste it off your sweet body.

He bit the bullet. He raised a pointer finger and tapped his talon on the glass. The moonlight outside kissed your face perfectly, but he did notice some red around your lips- he didn't know what it was.

His mouth dried as his gawk fell to what you were wearing- you were still wearing his shirt. Fuck

You hummed in irritation, thinking your sex-filled mind was making you hear things. Your heart sank at the wave of shock when your gaze accidentally flitted to your window. Then you saw it. Your tongue ground into your jaw, waves of shock reaching every corner of your already fire-tinged body- but now every single cell was about to sizzle into thin air. All this time, it felt like you were both dancing with your hands tied. Your pulse pounded in your ears when you saw him, eyes wide and concerned but ultimately fucking elated. It was like God answered your prayers just this once. You stood up from sitting, a random burst of adrenaline licking at your knuckles, you were practically shaking and Miguel was more than happy with that.

The sight of Miguel's face could make you cream: that black hair, olive skin, taut muscles, and brooding attitude made for complete devastation in a spider suit. You watched like a dumbfounded idiot as Miguel pried the window open and crawled through, he wormed into your room and stood up tall just taking a beat to drink you in.

Damn.

He thought you looked fucking incredible in a bikini, but here you were, standing there with a vacant doe-eyed look wearing nothing but his shirt. He doesn't think he's ever been this aroused just looking at someone.

Miguel raised an eyebrow to see blood on your lips, trailing a little down to your chin as you blinked up at him. He inched closer and raised his hand, his fingers slightly cupping your chin to meet his scorching, worried gaze.

“What happened here?” He asked softly, his breath was warm and honeyed, a stark contrast to the Miguel you've always known. That cool bleak demeanour cracked for a split second.

“You.” Leaning into his touch proved to be easy, you melted into his fingertips, lips parted and eyes needy as the man you've been fantasizing about for so long was touching you again, but it felt more meaningful than the last. Miguel's eyes were the clearest you've ever seen, a tinge of red gleaming against the burgundy of the outer rim. The way you uttered that word sent a shudder spiraling through him, you were both affecting each other so much- that first kiss only fueled the ever-increasing wildfire.

“What are you doing to me…?” Miguel whispered. He was asking himself that question too: what were you doing to him? He's driven himself crazy, utterly mad over this dance of death he called morality and ethics. You were holding your breath, scared that if you gave into the natural urge to breathe, you'd moan out his name.

“You never finished telling me all the things you wanted to do to me.”

“If I told you all of the things I wanted to do to you...we'd be sitting here all weekend talking and then I'll never be able to show you exactly what's been running through my head every hour of every day, the reason why I can’t sleep, why I can’t fuck my fist without thinking of you.” Miguel inched closer and cupped your face with both hands, smoothing out your soft skin, your palms fell onto his hands too.Just touching each other softly. Miguel was still afraid. He was afraid of hurting you, and losing himself, he's already not in control when it comes to you. You sighed out at his vulgar words and you were ready to get on your knees.

You stood in silence, gawking at each other intensely. You scoffed to yourself, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip as the corners of your mouth upturned to a smirk.

“That would be quite inconvenient.”

“Yes, it would carinõ.” Miguel hummed lowly, definitely understanding the effect the pet name had on you. Miguel thought your snarkiness would be the death of him by now but here you are, being so compliant. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, teasing it into your mouth. Your eyes grew wider as his thumb massaged your tongue For easier access, you just stuck your tongue out, licking and sucking on it every so often. He had dreamed about this day but he never fully thought what it would really be like once he gave in.

Miguel's pretty features were locked in a state of vacant yet concentrated drunken smugness. Anger played at his brows, creasing the olive skin around it, his stare was piercing, looking at you as if you were both a diety that needed to be worshipped and a dirty slut that was begging to be pounded- he sighed at the thought, he was beginning to slowly lean in. Your free hand went to the fangs that he was baring, your fingers prodded at the sharp point, slurring completely drunk off of his presence.

“These are spikey...I love it.”

“This is so wrong.” He muttered against your lips, feeling the explicable sensation of hot and heavy lust sparking between your lip.

“Tell me how wrong it is then.” You nipped at his bottom lip, making his eyes flutter closed.

That was it.

A sickening crunch ripped inside of him.

A chain loose of its hinges.

His muscles coiled inside of him, reaching their apex, and now his restraint was seeping between his fingers until there was nothing left in his hands...except you.

Shock, hope, fear, elation, and uncertainty all mingled together on his face until they were indistinguishable from each other. He blinked for a second and then his eyes mixed both black and red, midnight specks in the violent pool of red. He was angry and so hard. Frustration overrode his guilty conscious. Fury carved harsh lines across Miguel's face, hardening his jaw and turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension by the moonlight. His eyes simmered with a slow-burning desire, the type that snuck up and annihilated him before he knew it.

Miguel had always been intimidating, but at that moment, he looked like the devil himself had left hell to exact his retribution. Arousal leaked out of you at that look. The air sharped with dense tension and desire, enough that it finally yanked him out of his frozen stupor. Time suspended for a brief, agonizing moment, just long enough for your breath to become his.

Miguel yanked your arm away from him and curled it behind your back, your soft gasp making drool form at the back of his throat. His other hand gripped your chin and at that moment he saw thunder in your eyes. “I'd rather fuck you instead.” Uncertainty evaporated from his voice, leaving nothing but satin and smoke in its wake.

His mouth shattered against yours, finding its rightful place in your mouth. Home. You thought his last kiss was good, but this was ferocity at its most unhinged. You had succumbed to the skillful assault on your senses.

Your body was molded to his, all hard muscles under the holographic suit. Your mouth was like a pure shot of heroin- the forbidden fruit that he was restraining himself for was now all his to devour, his to savor. The first kiss was passionate but impulsive. This... was sticky and wet, saliva mingling with saliva, this was primal and addicting. Miguel's worries melted into nothing, for now, he was fucking delighted that your body instinctively curved against his, seeking more contact like a horny virgin. His lips left yours to breathe, a rough calloused breath shot out of his throat, as his mouth fell to your jaw, kissing and sucking so fucking hard, desperate to mark you.

“Miguel…” You moaned out in failed protest, the word rolled like heaven off of your tongue. You were made to moan his name.

“I'm going to wreck this tight cunt..”

“Listen, listen...I'm bad. I'm a bad girl. Now I'm making you bad..” You whispered in his ear, yelping a little when he bit down hard on the skin of your jaw. You felt the indents of his teeth.

“Carinõ...I'm not a good man, you know that.” His eyes wildly found yours again, his face hardening like granite, his steely resolve thrumming in the air around you.

You begged to differ, but you didn't want to think about that right now.

Miguel shoved you on the bed, manhandling you by being completely careless of where you landed.

“Miguel!” You whined like a kicked bitch in heat, it felt so humid in your room, you scrambled to get your- well, his- top off. Miguel stood up straight and gawked at you from the foot of your bed, waiting like a hungry predator. You discarded the shirt so you were completely naked on your bed, shining and glimmering in the pale moonlight, skin as soft as fresh silk. Your chest rose and fell with every rapid breath, Miguel's eyes were clouded in the dark hellfire that is desperation when you spread your legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows, tilting your chin down to glare at him with impossibly sizzling fuck me eyes. Miguel's heartbeat pummeled to the tip of his leaking cock at the sight of you in such an impossibly filthy position- free for him to use, fuck and bite however he pleases. He glanced at your hands and your fingers were ripping up the sheets under you, spotlighting the tension and swirling heat in your cunt. He was like a kid in a candy store, your pussy was leaking, the clear sticky liquid running down your thighs.

“Every time you speak, this is what happens.” Your tone was dead serious and the expression on your face was stony- you were definitely not toying with him now. You were just too eager for that.

Miguel's eye twitched. Without warning, he grabbed your ankles and pulled them to the edge of the bed, you gasped softly when you felt your legs dangle out, Miguel was between your thighs, glaring down at you with a demanding instinct.

“Sit up straight.” He ordered coldly, you felt a new wave of wetness form between your folds at his words.

You did what you were told, eyes piercing against his, challenging each other but it was obvious who had the upper hand.

Oh…the things Miguel could do to you in this position. The things he wanted to do, x-rated scenarios reeled through his head. You blinked up at him with doe eyes, wide and needy. His needy, desperate girl. A hint of a wicked smile played on his lips. Miguel smashed a few buttons on his watch and his holographic suit disintegrated off. Your eyes scanned his golden olive skin, his body was sculpted with such perfection you expected to find Michelagelo's signature embossed on his V-line. Broad shoulders. Muscled chest. A faint dusting of black hair that tapered down to…

Oh fuck.

His cock was staring at you right in the face, jutting out, huge and hard- 11 inches for sure at least. It curved to the side, a thick vein bulging out of the underside, an angry red tip leaking pre-cum. The mere idea sent twin frissons of apprehension and anticipation spiraling down the deepest pit of your stomach. You gawked blankly at his dick, mouth open wide and eyes outspread. It felt like you'd never even seen one before. Well, you had never seen his before.

That fucking face, that gape. He was going to frame it in his office and fuck his fist under the desk staring at it.

There was no way he'd fit. It would be impossible.

“Oh my…God.” You mumbled under your breath

When you finally dragged your gaze back up to his, Miguel's eyes were already laser-focused on you, dark and smoldering with a banked heat that you were sure could crumble you to dust. His hand gripped your cheeks, ensuring that your eyes were on him without hesitation. Miguel smiled crookedly when he spotted the slivers of saliva hanging from your bottom lip, quite literally drooling over his cock absentmindedly. He loved how dumb he’s got you already.

"Aww querida...I always seem to think about my own suffering, yet I neglect yours the most.” His tone had slivers of mockery in it, and tears pricked in your eyes.

“Yes. You do. So just fuck me already.” You scowled, pretty eyebrows tensing and creasing when he planned on stretching out such a momentous occasion. If anything it should be you punishing him for the amount of times he had denied you of the very thing that kept your soul alive.

Hypocritical son of a bitch.

Miguel harshly let go of your face and slapped your cheek with his dick, your face whipped to the side due to the sheer force of such an obscene thing- he definitely caught your attention now, undermining his authority never sat well and it regurgitated back onto you tenfold. You blinked up at him, the surprise hitting you like a brick and making you choke out the breath you forgot you were holding, your cheek heated red as the stickiness smeared slightly. You were about to internally combust, for such vulgarity to feel that good.

"All you do is fucking talk.” Miguel snarled at you gruffly, the force behind it sounded very real.

“I'm prepping you, getting you all wet so you can at least take about half of me.” You wanted to kick him in the face and make his fangs stick into the walls of his gums and snap them. He really thought you wouldn't be able to take him? Well, a few minutes ago you thought it would be quite frankly impossible to take his sheer size but now since he doubted you...you thought otherwise, wildly determined didn't even begin to cover it.

You cocked a condescending eyebrow at his incredibly smug statement. “I'm wet enough! We were practically designed to fuck each o-!“

Miguel cut you off, waiting for the opportunity when your mouth was wide enough to just shove his cock in. And he did just that. He grinned and let out a low rumbling chuckle at your pathetic and dumb demeanor, who knew a woman who viewed herself so highly could end up being so damn bendy for someone else. Your eyes pricked glassy mirrorball tears, he almost saw his own smug reflection in them, that beautiful surprised look on your face needed to be painted and sold for millions. Your mouth was so warm, so wet, bucketfuls of spit spilling on his cock as you sucked, glaring him right in the pupils of his midnight rings. Miguel's lips flipped to a pretty smile as he watched you struggle to take him all. Your tongue was flat on his tip but what was really jarring was the barely there touches you'd flick onto the sensitive slit, causing him to be unable to repress his animalistic grunt. He could've cum right then and there just from how your mouth felt alone, but he had to endure- he couldn't be known for lasting 5 seconds.

“Yes, we were. You're exactly right.” He gritted through his grinding jaw.

This was exactly what you dreamed of, the spark that lit the flames of desire that licked at the very essence of your soul. It just felt so right. He was so thick and he tasted so good, his natural musk clouded your nostrils, and your throat flexed to take him that much more. One more jerk and he was sure he was going to cum.

Woah, easy. Easy.

Miguel's eyes shot open as you hummed around him appreciatively.

He really thought you couldn't do it. You'd show him that he meant jack shit. There was something so heady about the idea of making a man like Miguel fall to your mercy. You could either bring him over the edge or keep him there forever.

You slid him down your throat a little more. He put his fist in your hair to jerk your head around but you scratched and slapped them away earning nothing but a breathless, accusing scoff from him.

“You'll choke.” It was a half-assed warning and a half-assed patronizing joke. A hint of wariness crept into his voice when you finally gripped the base of his cock with two hands. The sensation tinged his nerve endings in heat, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth.

You didn't care, your eyes tangled with his as if you were saying ‘You think I can't? Watch me.’ You slid him all down your throat, hitting the very back of it. You whimpered tasting the salty sweetness before you swirled your tongue from side to side, bobbing your head up and down, suckling softly at first before fucking him hard with your tongue. Jesus Christ, his mind was exploding with static heat- he was trying to conceal his chest from heaving but he couldn't.

Fuck.

This was most definitely the best blowjob he's ever had, you had this twist-and-jerk technique that was truly remarkable. Miguel raised his eyebrow, dumbfounded by your skill but then a wicked smile slashed through that.

What a pretty little slut. His pretty little slut.

“You feel so good. You're...fuck. You're fucking perfect for me...” Miguel moaned drunkenly, unable to control his lips from moving. He's never been this sensitive before, every barely there touch elicited a new wave of pleasure. Pain and pleasure blurred into one at this point. The compliment made you wetter if that was even a possibility.

“I'm gonna...Mierda...g'na...I'm gn'a cum.” He could barely string together a sentence, a coil snapped inside of him, the coil that has been tightening ever since he met you.

Miguel pulled his cock out of your mouth and jerked himself off, cumming on your chest, creating a pearl necklace with his hot salty cum, dripping all down your tits to your stomach. His face creased into a desperate wince as he groaned from the deep chasms of his gut, a rumble as he released all over you. Your gasp was helpless and he wanted to hear that specific sound all night, it turned into his favorite music. This was the most gratifying and fulfilling orgasm he's ever had. He opened his eyes after they screwed shut, peeking through to see the mess he made on his fist and your body...and there you were looking like a sculpture, something akin to a Greek goddess, leaning back slightly, hair touselled and messy, skin glowing. He could finish again at the sight alone. His sex drive was insatiable.

“Still think I'm in need of prepping?” You chided, embarrassingly pleased with yourself at proving him wrong.

You didn't have any time to lose, your mouth was wrapped around him again.

You retracted a hand from the base of his leaking cock and let them slide down your thighs before your nimble fingers edged to your hot cunt. Your index finger found your swollen clit, rubbing it for a single second, feeling a small fraction of delicious pain before his glare caught you red-handed. Miguel's blood reared at the blurry sight, he gripped your hair again with his white hot fist and pulled you off of his cock, drooling-invisible strings of cum and spit connecting you together. He took a moment to admire you at your most beautiful, heated cheeks, swollen pink lips dribbling into a lazy smile

Miguel grew indignant in a matter of nanoseconds.

“No. Don't you dare think about touching. You've done more than enough yourself.” He grunted like a boar. He used your hair like a leash and threw you back flat on the bed, breasts bouncing at the action. You pouted as he crawled on top of you, his heavy weight being a welcome invite to your body, his cock slapped against your stomach and you could feel his skin turn wet due to your drenched mound. “I said don't give me that look.” He said seethingly. The feeling of his skin on yours was making you intensely needy. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking yourself in your new favorite position: under him.

“Please...Miguel. I need you, I'm desperate for you, I'm tired of waiting for you, I've been ready for you for so long…” A desperate plea ripped away from your throat in a choked sob. Miguel had never seen your eyes emanate such honesty and sincerity, glowing in the pale moonlight- you weren't making a glib or clippy joke about this. It was as honest as you could get.

Miguel's eyes darkened as your words fell on his ears, slurring at your incessant whining. “Mi nina necesitada…” He hummed under his breath. “So cockdrunk already?”

You had been dying to let him roam your body freely, doing whatever he pleased, a breathy moan escaped from your parted lips when his apathetic hand traced the curves of your body, goosebumps strangely patterning your heated skin. Miguel crashed his lips against yours again, his fangs snagging against your mouth and his teeth clinking against yours. It was messy and sloppy, spit against spit, tongue against tongue. His hands palmed your tits, feeling them before his talons pinched and rolled your already-sensitive nipples. Pulling and playing with them, snarling and grinning crookedly against your lips as he swallowed your moans.

“I'm gonna cum..” You breathed softly but Miguel was not having it. “Miguel...if you keep doing that I'm gonna cum.” You warned him but it landed on deaf ears.

"You're gonna cum on my cock.” He corrected you unkindly before chuckling lowly. “My sweet sensitive cunt.”

Before you knew it, Miguel gritted his teeth, you didn't have time to do anything more than gasp before his length slid into you so easily, hitting that spot that made him realize you were right: you were designed to fit each other, designed to fuck each other

“Fuck...Oh my god...” You moaned out loudly.

He filled you up to the hilt with only one thrust. You only had a few seconds to adust before one hand was on your neck and the other gripped your hip and slammed you up and down on his cock, hard, while he drove down inside of you. Each thrust was more brutal than the last, you were getting embarrassed at the whines and moans, and attempting to conceal them with your fist wasn't helpful either. You threw your head back into the mattress, exposing more skin on your neck for his palm to grip.

“Be loud. Let me hear you.” He demanded coolly, his steely resolve shattering just from watching your swollen lips turn into a full-blown gape. You gave in to his instruction and let yourself moan without shame. Miguel manhandled you and threw you about sloppily again and again, harder and faster until your knees buckled.

His fangs ground together, threatening to shatter the pearly whites he was known for as he watched your body contort. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. He saw his cock bulge under the skin of your stomach and it was just another lightning bolt that was the thunderstorm between you two. You whined when he grabbed your knees and pushed them into your chest, smooshing your breasts together, allowing him better access to pump you full.

Miguel knew you were on birth control but he couldn't help but feel disappointed about it. He disguised it as a throwaway thought

“You can't even begin to understand how bad I've wanted you.” Your tongue slipped out, reiterating the same thing as always: your desperation.

“Tell me I'm the best you ever had.” He growled brutally, staring down at you, watching your hair nuzzle into the pillow. Your nails dug crescents into his back, probably enough to draw blood if you angled it another way.

"You're the best I've ever had!” You screamed back, begging to finish. “Please...you're the best I've ever had.” You cried out, eyes welling up with tears, streaking down your warm face making Miguel even more aroused. Miguel felt so dirty and depraved, but that's the kind of man he was. He wasn't a good man at all.

You clung onto him for dear life as he rutted in and out violently, you threw your head back into the pillow, his talons were sure to leave indents on your neck, and you drooled at the idea. Your body felt nothing more than a mass of sensation and nerve as you matched his rhythm and grinding your swollen clit up against him: like you were made for each other. It was like you were sucking the soul out of him.

“You need to get used to being fucked like this because I'm not leaving you alone for the entire weekend Hermosa.” Miguel declared with a snarl and it felt like the world was tipped on its axis. “My pretty little cumslut, eh?”

That's all it took.

One promise.

One last final rub of your clit.

Your mouth fell open to a silent scream, but then Miguel glared at you- instructing you to be loud. So you did. Your pussy gushed onto him and your throat ripped out a pornographic moan, the sound echoed into every nook and cranny of your being- it was an out-of-body experience, both a complete cleansing and a complete dirtying of the person you've become. You've never cum that hard, ever. It was so powerful and all-consuming that it drowned out every sound other than Miguel's heavy breathing. He was still pounding into you, chasing his second release of the night. His dick twitched when he saw your face look so blissed out, stars burst behind his eyes as his dick pulsated. Miguel threw his head back and spurted inside of you, before pulling out, spurting again, and then plugging his dick back in.

You were both panting messes, sweat rolling off of your skin as if you had just finished a marathon. Your faces were inches away from each other, gawking at each other vacantly, eyes wide and glittering with that after-sex aura. Silence clawed into the atmosphere, all you could do was stare at each other, silently saying ‘I can't believe we just did that’

Miguel leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips. “I meant what I said. I'm not letting you leave” The contrast between his gentle kiss and his filthy words made you feel limp.

-

i feel like this was lowkey self serve bc all i want to do is give miguel head LOL .

i also just have to say another thank u to all the people who love this series! i’m so overwhelmed by the idea that you guys like the way i write miguel. thank u so much! i love u

-

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear r @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick k @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house ri @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @honeycovered-bandaids@hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog @siidmm @queerponcho @luvingmyships @dhollandhs @kehlanilopez @lyrasdrawer

(IT WONT LET ME TAG ANY OTHER PPL BRUH TUMBLR WHY)

[rainbowhao]

kitchen ♡ yeonjun

genre: smut ⭒ word count: 0.5k

yeonjun chuckles. “this what you wanted?” he’s moving at a painfully slow place, cock hitting you deep with every thrust.

you're pressed up against the kitchen counter, legs forcefully spread. your head has lulled forward, body limp from overstimulation.

you've already come twice, once from his fingers and once on his tongue. the remnants drips from your folds, coating his shaft and sliding down your legs.

“you like it when i’m rough?” your boyfriend questions, words filled with venom as he switches to fucking you quick and sloppy.

“yeah.” your voice is whiny. drool threatens to spill out from the corner of your swollen lips. his words have your walls clamping down on him and he curses at the tightness.

his hand grips your inner thigh, pressing your leg further against the cabinet. your body shakes. if he wasn't holding you up, you'd crumble to the floor. your hips start spasming when he thumbs at your abused clit.

yeonjun’s eyes are transfixed on your tummy. he can see the outline of his cock with every thrust. sweat coats his forehead. he's been dying to get inside you since you'd watched that damn movie together.

“that turn you on?” yeonjun had joked when he noticed you'd fallen unusually silent during a raunchy sex scene, not so subtly shifting around on the couch.

“we could try it...if you want” you said quietly, cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze.

the prospect of having you in the kitchen—of being a little rougher than usual—wasn't something he’d ever considered. but after seeing how embarrassed (and intrigued) you were by the idea, suddenly it was all he could think about. which is why he’d been worked up the rest of the night; walking in on you making breakfast in nothing but his t-shirt had been the final blow.

“open up for me, baby.”

he’s like a man possessed, suddenly gripping your chin, tilting your head back before spitting in your mouth. yeonjun groans when you swallow, index finger tracing your bottom lip. he whispers hot praises in your ear—how good you’ve been, how warm you feel wrapped around him.

“gonna come for me one more time?” yeonjun asks. his white tank droops down below his collarbones, thin material clinging to his skin.

“i’m close,” you tell him. your stomach is wound tight, his tip hitting your g-spot relentlessly. “want you to come inside.” you're practically begging him, breathless. your fingers dig into his shoulder blades. it's impossible to tug him any closer but you try anyway.

“shit.” yeonjun exhales. just imagining it has his hips stuttering. “i don't think i’ll want to stop if i do.” he looks down with heavy lids, cheeks flushed as he stares at where you're connected. “i’d fuck you all day if you'd let me.” he chuckles lowly. “til you're full of me.”

you're releasing without warning, broken moans filling the apartment. he sucks on your neck to try and work you through your high, placing sloppy kisses against the sensitive skin as he continues rocking into you. it's only a few thrusts later that his mouth stills, eyes squeezing shut as he fills you with warm cum.

“one more baby,” he pleads. he's still rock hard and nowhere near done. “i need you so bad I can't think straight.” yeonjun whimpers.

you're nodding rapidly. if you had known he'd react like this, you would have watched the movie a hell of a lot sooner.

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma

Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.

Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.

It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.

Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.

Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, “swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.

And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.

He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.

“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.

“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”

Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”

And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”

Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.

Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.

The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.

Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.

“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.

Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”

Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”

And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.

“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”

Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.

And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.

Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.

Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.

Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”

Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”

“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”

And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.

Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.

Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.

“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”

Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”

“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”

Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”

Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”

And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.

Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”

“Errr…twenty one?”

Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.

“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”

Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”

“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”

Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”

“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”

As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”

“Riiight…”

“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”

“I...what?”

Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”

Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.

And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.

Link to Part Four

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[from-the-clouds]

savior complex - joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | song inspo | gif: @joelmjller

All the skeletons that you hide Show me yours, I'll show you mine

summary: Joel shows up at your doorstep, battered and bruised. Despite the bad blood between you, do you have the heart to turn him away? Enemies to lovers. Takes place pre-television series/game. Was written as a companion piece/prequel to my other joel fic, but can be read on it's own. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, dirty talk, implied age gap. Enemies to lovers. Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, implied death of a family member, canon-typical suffering! Descriptions of injuries, blood, stitches (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: I haven't seen the enemies to lovers trope written for joel yet, and I'm also obsessed with the trope of a character showing up at their enemies house because they don't have any place to go. So maybe this is a little self-indulgent. Special shoutout to @ay0nha for letting me talk to you about this fic! Please enjoy, I'm really proud of/excited about this one.  ♥

“What do you want?” 

The ice in your own voice comes as a surprise. You weren’t sure you were even capable of sounding so cold, but it’s probably a good skill to have nowadays. Plus, he’s probably the last person you expect to see, and certainly the last person you want to see standing in your doorway.

“I need your help,” he says. 

You snort, lips pressing together in a bitter smile. “Uh-huh.”

It’s so dark in the hallway, you can barely see his face, but you can imagine what Joel might look like, lines etched in his face from the permanent frown he’s always wearing, particularly when dealing with you. You’ve known him a handful of years, here and there, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smile….or laugh…or display any emotion other than irritation, or indifference. 

The breeze from your open window shifts your curtains to the side, lets a sliver of light from the full moon pan over him, and you can see him clearly, just for a second. 

He’s covered in blood. 

It’s hard to see exactly how much, but it’s all over his face, his shirt, and accompanied by dirt and grime. One of his hands hangs limp at his side, his opposite clenched into a tight fist. The breeze dies down, the curtain falls back into place, and he’s cast once more in shadow. 

Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. Anyone else, you’d help without question. At one point, you would’ve let him in willingly. But it had been months since you’d last spoken, and you had no intentions of ever seeing him again.

“Why should I help you?” 

He lowers his eyes, looks at the floor. When he answers, his voice is strained. 

“Because I have nowhere else to go.”

The more your eyes adjust in the dim light, the more you can see. Tattered clothes, rain dripping from the tips of his salt-and-pepper curls, his eyes dull. You wonder if he’s trying to make himself look like a kicked puppy, petulant and pathetic, but it doesn’t really seem like something Joel would do.

“Please?” 

He’s in pain, you can read it on his face, and you wonder if it’s because of his injuries, or because of how horrible it must be for him to beg you for help. Historically, it’s always been you in his place, needing something – and if it didn’t serve his interests, he’d leave you in the dust. Joel never made exceptions, no matter the circumstances, despite how long you’d known one another. With that to consider, you have every right to turn him away. You should feel satisfied, seeing him so desperate. You wished you could feel satisfied, but you didn’t.

“Fine.” You let him in. What is it about him that always makes you cave? 

Pulling a chair away from your small kitchen table, he staggers behind you, favoring his right foot, bracing himself on any surface he walks past – the doorframe, the countertop, the table, until he finally lowers himself into the chair.  

You cross the room. It takes most of your bodyweight to shift the couch in the corner of the room away from the vent behind it, and you kneel down. Air conditioning and heat are a thing of the past, but it’s got other purposes now. Using a blade of the knife you always keep handy, you’rable to pry the metal grate away from the wall, to pull out a tin tackle box that you haven’t had to touch in awhile. 

Joel’s still at the table when you return to him, breathing labored, and you flick on the lights. He blinks, his eyes are on you, you can feel the way his body is pinched with nervous energy – like a starving feral cat that’s been trapped in a cage, and still can’t decide if it trusts you yet. As if you’d ever done anything to hurt him. If anything, you should be scared.

“Alright,” you say. “Let me take a look at you.”

His eyes have shifted away from your face, but, too proud to cast them down, he’s glaring at some fixed point behind you, glazing over. He doesn’t want to register what is actually going on. It doesn’t stop you from the task at hand, and you begin to take inventory of his injuries.

“So what happened?” you ask. He’s got a black eye forming, several small cuts all over his face, one of which is slicing through his bottom lip, causing it to swell.

“It’s none of your business,” he quips.

“It’s precisely my business, if you want me to be able to actually help you.” 

“A deal went wrong,” he said. “I was in someone else’s territory. They said rather than turning me into FEDRA, they’d let me off easy.”

“This is being let off easy?” you ask, then cluck your tongue. 

Joel doesn’t answer. 

“And that?” you eye the bump forming on his opposite temple. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, even though, when you graze a thumb over it, he swallows hard. 

“You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“Got uh, shoved into a brick wall.”

You slide two fingers underneath his chin, using light pressure to tilt his face towards you. “Look at me.” When you’re staring at him like this, studying him closely, you’re forced to acknowledge how handsome he is. Even battered and bruised, it’s the dark, sad eyes, sharp jawline, long lashes that draw you in. He’s hardened by the world he’s been surviving in for twenty years, like everyone is, but he wears it well. You’d never tell him that. 

“Any blurry vision, dizziness?” You aim your flashlight in his eyes, and his pupils constrict. 

“No,” he says. You study him a moment more, and know what to look for. But you don’t find anything of concern.

“Well, I don’t think you have a concussion,” you say. “But I’ll keep an eye on it…..What else happened?” 

“Got me with a knife.” That is what you’ve been the most concerned with since he’s stepped inside. There’s a dark stain blooming on his shirt, just below his left ribcage

“I see,” you say, stepping back. “Take your shirt off.” You open the tin that you left on the table.

It’s full of medical supplies, ones you’d pocketed from the QZ hospital the last few years working there. It’s not easy to sneak them out, nor is it entirely ethical, but you’ve gotten pretty good at it, and now have a decent sized stash built up in case of any emergencies. You’re still deciding if Joel Miller’s well-being is worth the waste of supplies it’s going to be.

When you turn back to him, he has unbuttoned his shirt, but is struggling to shrug it off his right shoulder, where his arm hangs limp at his side. 

“I….” he manages….”I can’t move my arm.”

“Sit up,” you instruct, and he does, which gives you room to slide the rest of his shirt off his shoulder. You immediately notice the obvious deformity. “Looks dislocated.” 

He nods, looking at the floor. “I was trying to defend myself.”

The idea of him, outnumbered and outmaneuvered, a position he’s so rarely in, is unpleasant. He might be an asshole, but because of it, he always comes out on top. There’s something almost comforting about that kind of consistency these days, and it’s tough to stomach the idea that he doesn’t have superpowers, he’s just another person. You’re not sure why you still hold him in such high regard.

You can’t dwell on it. Especially because what’s more pressing is the cut below his ribs, a few inches in length. It’s still bleeding, but not severely. It’s not a stab wound either, even though it’s deeper than you’d expected, but there’s no internal organ damage.

You take a clean cloth and place it over the wound, guiding his left hand overtop it. “You’ll need stitches.” You slide your hand from underneath his, ignoring the warm weight of his touch. “But we need to stop the bleeding. Apply pressure.” He does, and winces.

“You don’t have anything for the pain?” you ask, raising your eyebrow. 

“Front pocket of my shirt,” he says. You fish out a pill. Oxys. You’re not sure how strong they are, and you don’t want to encourage the habit, but this might be a case where he actually needs one. 

There’s a glass of water already sitting on the table, and you grab it, standing over him. Neither of his arms are free to accept the offering.

“Open up.”

He glowers at you like a defiant child. 

“Are you serious?” you tilt your head. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, he opens his mouth, and you tilt your hand to drop the pill in and lift the glass of water to his lips. 

When you’re done with that, it’s time to work on his shoulder. You had done this a few times before, even once to your mother, who had also been a doctor. Med schools didn’t exist anymore, but you didn’t need a degree now to provide care, at least not in this QZ…just experience. And your mother had taught you everything she knew. Before your part of town fell to the virus, she’d even had you reading her old textbooks. So you felt like you were only missing the degree.

You pull up a chair to face him, so close it’s touching the corner of his own, and sit, carefully taking his injured arm and bending it upwards with one of your thumbs in the crease of his elbow, your opposite hand wrapped around his wrist until his forearm is resting against your chest. 

It’s way more intimate than you want it to be, but you don’t have much of a choice. His jaw is set so hard you think he might crack a tooth. “So sometimes, if you relax your muscles enough, you can actually get the shoulder back into place that way.”

You release his wrist and reach out to knead the muscles around the problem area - his chest, his shoulder, in between his shoulder blades. He tilts his head back in the chair, his face pinched. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Just don’t hold your breath, that makes it worse.”

Joel hates this, you can tell. How often does he have to rely on someone so much to help him, that he lets them touch you like you are, lets them see him vulnerable? 

As much as you can, you avoid eye contact, looking down. You didn’t need to see him shirtless before to know that he’s muscular – not perfectly cut, but that isn’t really your thing, anyways. He looks good enough that your eyes are being drawn to places they shouldn’t be, down his torso to the v-lines dipping into the waistband of his jeans. He clears his throat, and you turn to find him watching you. You hope he can’t feel the way your heart is hammering against the back of his hand. 

It’s been a few minutes that you’re trying to get him to relax, but he can’t seem to. You should’ve known that this method wasn’t going to work for him of all people.

“Okay, I’m just going to try to move your arm a bit, see if that’ll work instead.”

He nods.

“Just keep breathing,” you instruct. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” you slowly guide his elbow forward, still keeping traction. 

He hisses. “Relax,” you soothe. It’s hard, despite the bad blood between you, to resist the urge to be warm, gentle. To reassure. It’s in your nature, it’s part of your job.

Eventually, and with a little patience, you’re able to get the joint to move back into place, and you check to be sure Joel is able to move it on his own. He can, even though it’s sore. You fashion him a sling made out of an ace bandage. 

“You’re probably gonna be a little sore for a while, so take it easy.” It’s probably a useless instruction to give because you know he won’t take it easy. 

He has a sprained ankle, and you wrap it up, elevate it. There’s a near-perfect footprint left behind in dirt on the skin there. Like someone had stomped on his leg hoping to break it. You’re glad they failed.  

Next is the stitches. There’s a few cuts on his body that need one or two, but you start with the big one. The wound has stopped bleeding, so you disinfect it, pull out your tools, and begin working, bent over him. Every time the needle pierces his skin, he tenses. You wonder if the one oxy was enough, or if it hardly touched the pain because he’s using them so often.

The entire time you’re treating him, you’re trying to be as clinical as possible. You’ve got to focus because if you think too much about him, you think about the last interaction you shared, and how pathetic you’d been. And the fact that he’d thought to come to you of all people for this makes your head spin. It’s not supposed to. You aren’t supposed to feel these things for him. You aren’t supposed to owe him anything.

Joel’s fist curls so tightly into itself that his knuckles turn white, fingernails leaving crescents in the skin of his palms. “Kind of feels like you’re making this as painful as possible.”

You smirk slightly. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

He sniffs, and you glance up to see him looking down at you, the ice that had been in his gaze before has thawed.

You squint at him, try to act indifferent, and turn your attention back to the stitches. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

“Thank fucking-”

“Shhh, you’re distracting me.”

His hand relaxes slightly as you keep working, slow and methodical, silence casting like a spell. 

“Why me?” you ask, finally.

“What?”

“Why did you come here? To me?” you pause. “It’s been forever. You’ve got Tess, right? Couldn’t she help you?”

Joel rubs his aching shoulder. “I didn’t want to scare her,” he answers. “And…I know you’re used to handling this kind of thing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “I am.”

One of you should probably acknowledge what had happened. But it won’t be me, you think.

“There,” you tie off the last stitch, and cover the wound with some gauze and a waterproof bandage. “You’ll probably need antibiotics. I’ll try to snag some from the hospital tomorrow.” 

Once you’ve fixed the most pressing issues, you focus on cleaning all the cuts and bruises on his face, his torso, cleaning and wrapping his bloodied knuckles. It’s probably been at least two hours since he arrived when you finally draw away from him, your surgical gloves snapping as you pull them inside-out, and off your hands, discarding them on the table, which is now littered with bloodied gauze, bandage wrappers, and medical supplies. You wish you had more ice packs than just the one for his shoulder and ankle, since he could use them just about everywhere, but it’ll have to do. 

“Could use a drink after all that,” Joel says, looking at his hands, flexing his fingers. 

“Don’t push it,” you answer, scraping the mess off your kitchen table into a bin. It dawns on you that you do have a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting in your cabinet that’s surprisingly good. “But now that you mention it….” 

He snorts, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever heard. 

You pour a few fingers of whiskey into two glasses, sliding one across the table to him. Neither of you clink glasses, but you do eye each other over the rims of your cups as you take the drink in one go.

Joel places his empty on the table. “I should get out of here.”

“In your shape, it might be better to wait for light.” As much as he won’t admit it, you know he’s still weak, not in his right mind, and vulnerable to any FEDRA agents working the streets. “But I have to sleep, I’ve got work in the morning.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight you. 

You curl yourself up on the couch, that is old and worn but still surprisingly comfortable. Joel sits at the table awhile more, and has one more drink. After all the activity of the night, you’re out within minutes. 

Joel drags himself over to the bed, which you’d never offered him directly, but he assumed to take since you were on the couch. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep, but he can’t sit upright in your uncomfortable kitchen chair anymore. Every part of his body aches. Your bed is in the corner, neatly made, even though it’s just threadbare sheets and a blanket. His never is, and he finds it ridiculous you must waste the time at the beginning of your day for something like that.

He sprawls across it, surprised at its comfort. A breeze coming through the open window drifts your curtains to the side, and he catches a glimpse of the full moon. Between the liquor, and the pills, the pain has subsided enough that he’s able to relax a little. The sun will be up soon. He just has to wait…

— — — — — —

The next thing Joel hears is your voice, muffled by the buffer of your front door. He looks at the clock next to your bed, it’s early in the evening. The sunlight trickling through the gaps of your curtains is golden, a slanting orange glow in the corner of the room. The window is closed. Fuck. Did he really sleep all day? He uses his good arm to shield his eyes from the offending light before stretching. 

Sheets on top of him rustle, he must have climbed under them at some point the night before.

It feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, and he groans. Pain drips through him, settles in his shoulder, his side, his head. His mouth is dry, and he sees a full glass of water next to him, two white pills. He couldn’t remember you leaving that morning, but it had to have been you who left them there. Who else would it have been? Without thinking, he indulges. 

There’s a note scrawled on a scrap of paper underneath the pills. He picks it up with his free arm, the other one still wrapped in a sling. 

– Take pain meds

– Ice shoulder, eye, temple, ankle

– Change dressing

– LEAVE

The last word is underlined twice. He exhales, letting his head drop back against the pillows, until it snaps to attention….you’re still outside, but your voice has gotten louder, more animated. You’re talking to someone….no…..you’re raising your voice at someone. He can’t make it out through the door, and for all the bad things he could say based on the nature of your relationship, he knows that you don’t often lose your temper. 

‘I think you should leave,’ he catches the end of what you’re saying and is immediately jolted out of the fog of discomfort, leaving your note on the bedside table.

He’s crosses the room, ignoring the protest of pain from his ankle, hears a man’s voice respond, but just a snippet – ‘stupid fucking bitch’ – and he’s throwing open the door, nearly trampling you, since you’re pressed against the threshold with your arms around your backpack, eyes wide. 

When Joel follows your gaze, he spots a man about your age standing a few feet away, chest puffed out and chin up. 

“Joel,” you say, and he’s taken aback by your tone – relief. He’s never heard you say his name like that. Somewhere, in a small part of his brain he doesn’t want to acknowledge, he thinks he might like to hear you say it again. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” the guy tilts his head back to look up at Joel, giving him a once over, and steps backward in consideration. 

Instead of correcting him, you say nothing. 

“What’s going on here?” Joel asks, and you lower your arms, move your shoulders back, standing up straighter as you turn to look at him.

“Ben was just leaving,” you say. 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Joel answers. His hand instinctively comes to rest on your shoulder – reverent, protective. He knows he’s in no shape to get into a fight right now, but he’s significantly larger than the other man, and figures that alone will be enough of a deterrent.

Ben notices, and nose curls into a snarl, rolling his eyes. “Fine, whatever. He’s like…old enough to be your dad,” he mumbles under his breath.

You don’t answer, just stare with contempt as he retreats down the hallway. Once Ben has turned the corner, you step into your place, Joel’s hand falling from your shoulder. 

“Who was that?”

“Just some guy from work,” you say, sounding uninterested, dropping your backpack onto your kitchen table.

“How often does he–?”

“Let’s not get into it,” you shake your head as you pull open the curtains, sunlight casting warmth all over the room, specks of dust glittering in the air. But he wants to know more. He’s tried to ignore all the suffering that isn’t his own since the world went to shit, but he’s at least aware of how dangerous it is to be a woman, living on her own.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, did you sleep all day?” 

Joel doesn’t answer.

“You probably needed it.”

You disappear into the bathroom, and Joel sees a rush of light through that door, the creak of a window opening. “I brought the antibiotics, they’re in my bag,” you say when you exit, hands on your hips. “You’re not feeling feverish, are you?”

Joel shakes his head no, and sits back down on the bed. 

“Well that’s good,” you go to the counter. “Hey, if you need to shower here, it’s probably better because I can dress your wound before you go. I was actually thinking today about how you would definitely fuck it up if you tried to do it youself.”

He rolls his eyes at the insult, but answers. “That’s fine.”

You’re making yourself something to eat. He notices a polaroid on your bedside table. It’s two kids – a girl and a younger boy, her arms around him – their lips curled into identical smiles. When he looks closer, he realizes the girl is you. 

Please? My brother is sick, he’s in a lot of pain, you had said, on your knees in front of him, swallowing hard. Your fingers were curled in his belt loops, the cold steel button of his jeans pressed into your chin, so close he thought it might leave a permanent mark. In one of your hands was a wad of credits, only a couple short of what he’d asked you for in exchange for the pills. I’ll do anything you want me to.

Of course he wanted you, how could he not? He wondered if you knew that already, and were just trying to take advantage of his weakness. Or maybe you were just that desperate. It didn’t matter either way. He can’t do it. Not like this, he thought. 

No, is his answer.

He stepped backwards, away and you still tried to cling to him. Sensing his reluctance, you continued to talk.  Joel, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever, please…it’s nothing. Eventually, he slipped from your grasp, and you fell back to your heels. He left you there, and he didn’t look back.

The memory is burned into his brain, and has followed him to sleep more times than he’d be willing to admit. He swallows hard, and you’re standing in front of him with an opened jar of applesauce and a spoon against your lips. “Are you looking through my shit?” you ask. 

“It was sitting out.” 

You snatch the photo from his hand so quickly that one of your nails knicks his thumb, shoving it in your back pocket and jerking your head towards the bathroom. “Hurry, I can’t be up late like last night.”

The shower feels nice, even if the pressure is shit and the water is cold. He still has blood caked under his fingernails that he can’t seem to fully eradicate even after scrubbing them against his palms. He slips back into his jeans when he’s done, and he notices a clean shirt has been left on the bed when he exits. 

“You done?” your voice calls. There’s the sound of a book snapping shut, your weight shifting on the couch. “I want my bed back.”

Joel grunts an affirmation, and you round the corner with the tin of medical supplies from the night before, discarding what you were reading on the foot of the bed. “This’ll take two minutes. Let me see.” Pausing in front of him, you press your fingers, a little experimentally, along his ribs, peering closer to examine your work. “Oh, this looks good. It should heal nicely.”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

“Uh-huh, but it’ll get better. Give it time.”

He sits down while you shimmy out of your flannel shirt. You begin to work, quietly, quickly, and at first, he tries to look away, at the top of the bedside table where you’ve placed a bag of antibiotics and a fresh glass of water. The note that was there earlier, with instructions on how to take care of himself in your absence, that also told him to LEAVE, is gone. He gives in and turns back to you, knelt between his legs like it’s nothing, pressing an adhesive bandage across the wound. 

He’s not sure why he had expected you to be cruel. You should be cruel, he knows that, but you aren’t. Your touch is confident, firm, and surprisingly tender. It must be muscle memory, he thinks, because he’s never known you to be sweet. Maybe he hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

“There,” you say, pulling away. “Now, I’d recommend changing that once a day at least, if you can. Take an antibiotic once a day, and make sure you do the full course. Ice your elbow, eye, ankle, all that every couple hours. Also, you should really use a sling for at least a month-”

“No.” He knows he won’t do any of those things, can’t really afford to between work, life, and resources.

“Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

You don’t scoff or roll your eyes at him or try to convince him why he should, and it’s like a peace offering. I could fight you on this, because I’m smart, but I won’t. It’s everything you’re saying, but you’re silent, and you sit on the edge of your bed a foot or two away, poking your fingers into the laces of your boots, untying them. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joel says it before he can stop himself. He can’t remember the last time he’s said those two words.

You balk at him. “For what?” 

Everything. “Your brother.”

“Oh,” you say, focusing back on your feet, pulling them out of your boots and pressing your thumbs into each arch. You shrug, shake your head.  “Yeah, well….I’m just glad he’s not in pain anymore.” 

“Yeah.”

“...And at least it wasn’t….you know…” The infection. 

He nods, takes a beat.

“I should get going,” Joel says, his hands on his knees. “The next time you need something-” 

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off tersely. “Right.”

“All I’m saying is that I owe you one.”

“You really think I believe that, coming from you?” You snort, shake your head, and reach to pat his leg in a patronizing way, until his hand lands atop your own. He thinks it might make him feel better, to see if your reaction to his touch gives anything away. But it doesn’t. Everything about you is rigid, cool. 

“I’m sorry….about that night,” he decides, purposely changing the subject. “But I don’t make exceptions.”

“Right. Then, I guess I’m a fool for doing this,” you gesture towards him, with your free hand - all the work you’d done. 

Joel shakes his head no, fingers tightening around your hand, clasping it hard. He’s sure, or at least he hopes, somehow, you can see it. That this isn’t a jab, that he means it. 

I’m sorry. 

You look down at where his hand is squeezing yours, and he watches your throat work once. 

“No,” he begins. “You just have every reason to hate me.”

A wistful smile crosses your face, but it’s hard to decipher what it means. To him, you’re still unreadable, even staring right at him. Most people avoid Joel’s eyes at all costs, but not you. You slide your hand out from underneath his, and he thinks for a second you’re going to retaliate. His body is facing yours, his hair is still damp, dripping onto his bare skin. It doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on either one of his shoulders, and learning forward. 

The white tank top you’re wearing clings to every curve of your body, except where it’s shifted off your shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. It’s intoxicating to have you this close. You must be able to hear the way his heart picks up, thuds heavy against his ribs, being so close to him.

“You think I hate you…” you say quietly, voice a low murmur, tilting your head, studying him. “That’s why you want me, isn’t it?”

This is why he’s never liked you. That uncanny ability to stare right through him, crack open the camera, spool out the film. 

“Isn’t it?” you prompt, when all he can offer is silence.

Of course it is. It is always easier when hate is involved. Hate bolds the blurry lines, boils everything down to its simplest point – that’s all that this would be, just two people trying to escape, if only for a little bit. And you, he’s sure, would make it so easy. 

“Yes,” he answers, though he’s not sure if he believes it. In this case, hate is just another medium to channel energy through. Passionate energy. True hate, maybe, would be your indifference. And neither of you are indifferent.

“Well….” you lean forward, your lips are nearly touching. He’s still frozen. “Maybe I do hate you.”

It’s a beat before anything happens, a few seconds of uninterrupted eye contact, your eyes have darkened, pupils wide. 

He pounces on you, ignoring the scream of soreness through his body as he cups both sides of your face, his tongue already scraping on your teeth, swallowing the surprised noise you make, which he finds ridiculous because what did you think was going to happen, talking to him like that?

But you can’t be that shocked, because your arms have tightened around his shoulders, you’re pulling him closer, he’s pulling you closer. A tightrope, about to snap. 

He wraps himself around you protectively, you feel so small there, he’s aware how easily he could break you, but he won’t. Or at least…he’ll try not to. 

You break away first. “Fuck.”

Your lips are full, wet, flush, parted, and you’re panting. He pulls you back against him, and you oblige, much more pliant this time, letting him claim you. Two sets of hands fumbling for purchase. 

“I do want you.”

“Then have me.”

He pulls you onto his lap, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and it’s shameful how easily you move there, settle your weight across his hips. You’re warm, so warm…too warm. His skin pricks.

Your hands thread into his hair and tug, it’s heavenly. He’s not used to being touched like this.. Grinding down, you find him already already rock hard – he has been since you were knelt in front of him cleaning his stitches, but he’d been trying to ignore it – and he moans. “You like that?” 

He hums into your mouth, agreeable. Yes. 

Joel wants to touch you, won’t be satisfied if he can’t, and he tugs at the hem of your shirt. You pull back, just for a split second to pull it over your head. It takes him a moment, but he still remembers how to unclasp a bra with one hand, and you’re bare before him. All he has to do is run a calloused palm up your spine and you’re arching your body closer, until he can mouth at your breasts. 

You sigh as he cups, squeezes, pinches. Latches onto one of your nipples and grazes his teeth over it, watching you closely….your eyes closed, head falling back, murmuring. Yes.

What he wants to do is to lift you up, spin you around, and press your back against the mattress. He wants to spread you open across the bed, put his head between your thighs and lave at you like a man starved. He wants to hear every way you can cry, moan, whimper his name as his tongue works your clit, fingers in your cunt, washing over him. Of course, he’d go gentle at first – not too gentle – but gentle enough, work you up. He wants to dangle you over the ledge, hold you there until you’re begging to be let go. And after you finally come, pulsing around his fingers, he’d wrap your legs around his hips and fuck you into the mattress until you do it again. After the first time, he thinks, it’d be even easier to get you to do it again. And again. Would you face his steely gaze head on, eyes fluttering? Would your nails scrape track marks down his back? Would you stifle a moan by sinking your teeth into the pulse point on his neck? He wants to- no, needs to know.

But he’s weak right now, and can’t do any of that. He’ll settle for what he can get.

Your fingers are twisting the button on his pants. “Come on,” you murmur. 

“You shouldn’t want me,” he warns.

“I know.” But I still do.

Your hand is down his pants, and he shifts his weight backwards to wiggle further out of them. It’s far more hurried than either of you deserve. You don’t even attempt to tease him through his boxers first, your hand wrapping around him in one swift and confident movement. 

Hissing, Joel sees you duck your head, feels the press your lips against his neck, his cock jumping in your grip as you run your thumb over the head, pump him once.

“You’re so big,” your voice is all breathy and soft, the sound of it has him growing even more frantic. He tugs at the loops on the side of your jeans. 

“Take these off.”

Yes. There’s no protest.

It’s torture when you leave his lap, for the brief time you do, his gaze tracing the curve of your ass as you wriggle out of your pants, then your panties, and when your return to him, he holds you closer.

“I knew you’d be so fucking good for me.”

“Did you?” It's playful, breathless, your arms around his neck. The lightest he’s ever heard you. 

You’re wet, already dripping onto him, and he dips a finger between your thighs, sliding it through your slickness, dipping into you just so, enjoying the noises you make before withdrawing. It’s a shame he can’t take his time. He’s too impatient. One of his hands he uses to guide his cock to your cunt, and the other he uses to steady your hips. His head drops to watch himself sink into you. 

The stretch of him inside you makes your toes curl, you’re already pulsing around him and he hasn’t even given you everything.

“Fuck,” Joel whispers your name when he feels you around him, all-encompassing and overwhelming. “So fucking good.”

You’re whining, but it’s unintelligible, your head bobbing into an enthusiastic nod, teeth snagging your lower lip. When he’s reached the hilt, you pause only for a moment before you begin to move on your own accord. Experimental rolls of your hips, not drawing back far at all, keeping him deep inside you, rutting and writhing with no reprieve. He thinks he might come right then and there, it’s been so long, and it’s you. This young, pretty thing who – if this whole fucking world hadn’t gone to shit – wouldn’t have looked twice at him before. It’s just another injustice – that you’re going to let someone like him ruin you.

You begin to bounce on him, dragging yourself along his length. “That’s a good fucking girl,” he groans. “Just like that.” 

“It’s so…fuck, Joel, you feel-”

“I know.” He answers, partially in agreement, and partially to shut you up. If you keep saying his name like that, it’s not going to end well. 

He tries as best as he can to answer your hips with ruts of his own, but it’s sloppy, erratic. The whole thing is, and he wants to curse himself because it really shouldn’t be, just like he shouldn’t be thinking about what he’ll do differently next time. 

It’s the first time he’s been with you, so he doesn’t know what it feels like when you’re getting close, but you’re throbbing and pulsing around him, your breathy pants and soft sighs start sounding more desperate. 

You’re so fucking wet he can hear it, can feel it seeping out, dripping down his balls onto the mattress. He realizes one of his hands is just clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm, trying his hardest not to come before you do. All he wants is to give you something, a chance to make up for everything that he’s taken.

“More,” you murmur, you don’t even seem to remember, or care, that he’s hurt. That you’d spent hours the night before after he’d been torn apart, putting him back together. “More, please.” 

His lips quirk into a boyish smile, something you’ve never seen before. He likes you like this, begging, desperate, sweet. “Don’t laugh,” but your lips are quirking, too, and you fucking nuzzle against his beard to hide it.

“I’m not - fuck.”

The shower was useless, he’s already sweating again, but so are you, and he trails his tongue across your neck to taste it, then unclenches his fist, moving it between your legs. He takes your clit between his knuckles, circling it carefully, steadily, while his cock keeps hitting the same, soft spot over and over again. 

You can’t get enough. “Harder, Joel…please.”

Of course, he obliges. And he’s lucky, because he doesn’t have to do much more. You slow, legs shaking, and you’re suddenly so tight around him he can’t move. “That’s it, baby, come on, so fucking good…” he would, is, saying anything to feel you. His name is a mewl on your lips, the rubber-band snaps, and you come around him, pressing every part of yourself against the hard line of his torso. He aches, it’s the sweetest torture he’s ever known. 

He knows, because he’s going to fuck you through it, has to, that he will not last any longer. 

“Where?” he pants, and you’re still peaking, gasping, grabbing. 

“Inside me,” you answer. “Please, inside me.”

He’s too lost in the moment to consider the consequences. Doesn’t care about them at all. When he comes, you groan at the feeling of him fucking you full, cunt still squeezing him, not as tightly as before, but still apparent.

The last bit of arousal is still waning, and he leans back to lie on the bed, pulling you with him. You fall to his chest, hands pressing lightly to adjust your position, suddenly aware again of the wound beneath his ribs, the bruises on his shoulder, settling so you’re pressed against his side, his arm still loose around your waist.

Neither of you say anything for a long time, and he notices your legs are trembling. 

We shouldn’t have done that, he wants you to say, as you should. But you show no signs of remorse.

Before all this, when he was a different man, he would’ve helped clean you up after. He would have soothed you in the aftermath; stroked your hair, peppered kisses along your neck, your cheeks, pulled you close so you could fall asleep in his arms. He can’t now, because you’re smart and you’d know what it means, but the guilt gnaws at him. 

When you sit up, pulling your shirt back over your head, sliding on your panties, and walking towards the bathroom, he imagines you think you’re doing him a favor. You are, in a way. Or maybe, you’re resisting the same impulse that he is.

You return a few minutes later, wrapped in a tattered robe, and climb next to him on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, then looking down at him. Between the combination of being tired, stiff, and fucked-out, he still hasn’t moved. 

“Don’t you think Tess is worried about where you are?” You bend your knees back and cross your ankles. 

“She knows I can take care of myself.”

Your eyebrow quirks. Can you? Joel turns away and stares up at the water-damaged ceiling panels.

“You should probably go.” 

His head snaps back towards you. He thinks of every person over the last twenty years he’d said the equivalent to after sex, and wonders if it made them feel as nauseous as he does hearing those words from your mouth.

The feeling fades – only a little – when you reach over to press your palm to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, before tenderly moving a piece of damp hair off his forehead, nails scraping against his scalp.

He lets his eyes close just for a beat, before nodding and sitting up. “Thank you,” he says, and he’s not sure what for. All of it, he supposes.

“Uh-huh,” you roll over, reaching to grab your book that had fallen to the floor at some point during your coupling, while he pulls on his clothes, laces up his boots, and takes the antibiotics from your bedside table.

Joel takes one last look at you, already engrossed in your reading, and then walks to the door.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything.”

You look up, nod, and he’s gone.

— — — — — —

part ii

[cyborg-franky]

Playing with their hair.

SFW GN Reader Chars include: Killer, Marco, Ace, Corazon/Rosinante

Killer

Moments like this with Killer were some of your favorites. Just laying together in his hammock, his strong arms around you. He wore his sleep mask and just rested with you while you read a book. It was nice, a calm that you longed for more of. 

Being a pirate, especially a Kidd pirate, didn’t often afford you moments like this. You sighed and turned the page as you felt him shift to get comfortable. You felt something tickle you, a strand of his long cascading hair.

You couldn't help yourself, playing with it, wrapping it around your finger, and watching how it shone in the light. He had lovely hair, so long and full and it made you jealous. You started to gather up his hair and run your fingers through it. 

He made a noise and you blinked, looking up at him. The sleep mask was pushed up on his forehead so he could watch you. “Sorry, is that annoying?” you asked about to withdraw.

“No,I like it,” he said with a thoughtful hum. He turned his head and let you run fingers through the entire length. It took you a moment to run fingers from the top of his head all the way down to the end of his hair.

“Good, I like playing with it.” You said with a smile.

Marco

He’s working, reading over the papers scattered in front of him, he’s hunched over his desk. Marco worked late into the night and as much as you admired him and knew he didn’t need to get as much sleep as everyone else, you still worried about him.

Getting up from the chair you were sitting in, nursing a cup of tea he’d made you a while ago you furrowed your brows, it had gone cold, you’d neglected it too long. You stretched and walked over to the sink, tipping it out. “Want another tea Marco?” you called and he didn’t answer..

So lost in his own little world until he finally noticed you, looking over his shoulder as you walked over. You stood behind him and started to play with his tuft of hair, pulling it up into a pineapple do before letting it flop back on his head.

You could tell he’d closed his eyes now, leaning into your touch, enjoying the feeling of you running gentle fingers over his scalp, lightly brushing his hair back each time, letting out a happy little hmmm before you kissed the side of his head.

“Another tea?” you repeated.

Ace

Sitting on your shared bed, muscles aching after a long day of work you needed to feel the pillows on your back as you sank into them. You watched as Ace stumbled into the room. Limbs heavy from his duties, his day was even longer, the curse of being a commander you guessed.

He dragged his feet, his boots clomping on the floor before he kicked them off. You could see the bags under his eyes, the tired look on his face, you glanced at the clock. Well, it was close to when Ace would consider retiring for the night.

You watched as Ace managed to remove his belt, the buckle making a clank as it hit the floor. Tossing his hat on the desk, missing with a grumble as he collapsed onto the bed with you, his head on your lap as he sighed into your thighs and mumbled something,

Chuckling at his half-asleep mutter of I love you you started to run your fingers through his wavy hair, enjoying how they ran through, careful of any knots that had formed during the day. You heard him make a happy sound, his body going limp against you, and his breathing slowed down.

You watched him adjust, turning his head to one side and letting you brush the hair off his freckled cheeks, behind his ear. Your loving touches started to send Ace to sleep. You smiled when you heard his soft snores.

Rosinante/Corazon

He’d just come out of the shower, training had been hard work, and he’d had to stay behind longer after because he had knocked over a bunch of equipment. You sniffed the air when the door opened, letting out the smell of his shampoo. 

You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, a towel around his shoulders which seemed tense, you knew he felt bad when he had caused an inconvenience due to his clumsy nature. You crawled over to him, kneeling behind him and grabbing the towel. 

He made a confused noise before you started to dry his hair, firm but gentle. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into what you were doing. You smiled when he closed his eyes and let out a happy sigh, just basking in the attention.

Once you’d towel-dried his hair you leaned in, taking a big whiff of his hair and making a happy noise. “I love it when you’ve just washed your hair, it always smells amazing.” You commented and heard the low rumble of his chuckle.

“I never change it because of that,” Rosinante replied, feeling fingers run through his damp hair, enjoying how you played with it.

He always felt happy and relaxed when with you.

[barefoothighlander]

hysteria

summary: ghost needs help expressing his emotions

simon ‘ghost’ riley x afab!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), slight dark themes, light bondage, blindfold, mention of weapons, teasing, overstimulation, oral (fem rec), use of vibrator, ice play?, choking, kinda free use, name-calling, multiple creampies, possessive!ghost, dacryphilia if you squint, wax play, mirror sex

a/n: this is porn with very minimal plot, not proofread

Something was off with Ghost all day, his responses to you curt, revealing little about his thoughts, it worried you considering when he got quiet it meant he was in a dark place mentally. He'd only been home a week after being gone months on deployment, it was a good week, your time spent with mundane domestic tasks but it was like a switch was flipped, his presence grown cold with no explanation as to why.

You move closer to him in the room, standing in front of his sat form, his elbows propped on his knees as he stares at the ground, clearly lost in thought considering he neglected to acknowledge your presence.

You place your hands gently on his shoulders, feeling him tense under your touch, waiting a moment before digging your digits into the muscles, doing your best to knead any stress that was bearing weight on him.

"What are you doing?" His voice is low, his accent rumbling in his chest as his gaze stays on the floor.

"You seem upset"

"M'fine"

"Liar"

He snaps his head to you, the smirk on your lips fading as he stares at you with dark eyes, "What's wrong Simon"

"I told you, nothing"

"You've been ignoring me"

"Have I?"

"I don't want to play this game with you"

"Game?"

You pull your hands from him, crossing them over your chest, "I can help, just tell me what's wrong"

He stands to his full height, his stare boring into you as his height forces you to feel small in front of him, your body suddenly nervous. You place a soft hand on his chest, keeping him in his place as he stretches his shoulders, broadening his chest. He grabs your wrist, pulling it from him and holding it at your side, his grip harsh on your skin,

"Si, let me help"

He watches your pleading eyes, he wants your help, but he still hasn't figured out how to vocalize it, he watches the way your hand falls limp in his grip, you aren't fighting against him, you know he'd never hurt you, your features are soft as you watch him, his tired eyes looking down at you as he releases your hand, watching it fall.

"I want to help"

You move your arms to touch him but he steps back, swallowing in his throat, "No touching"

"Okay"

"Close your eyes"

There were occasions during sex when he'd make an effort to hide his face, turning off lights or keeping his mask on, he'd never left it up to you to be the one without sight. You close your eyes, keeping your body still as you hear him move around you, he reaches for a drawer before returning to you, your heart jumping as you feel a piece of fabric slip over your eyes, his hands tying it behind your hair, keeping it snug.

You raise your arms as you feel his fingers tug at your shirt, helping him to lift it from your form, allowing your chest to enter his view, his hands moving quickly to your pants, tugging them down as you step out of them. Letting out a heavy breath as you become completely exposed to him, unaware of your surroundings.

You hear him move away, opening a cabinet before moving back to you, he tosses an object onto the bed before his arms lock under your thighs, hoisting you against him with minimal effort as your fingers cling to him. He lays you on the bed, allowing you to adjust against the mattress before he grabs your wrists, tugging them above your head, he shifts the object above your head, using some form of string to tie your wrists to it, securing them so they stay positioned above you, unable to move.

You tense your hands, trying to get a feel for the object, it's cold, somewhat cylindrical, whatever it is, its position means you truly can't touch him, even if you tried.

The mattress dips under his weight, you can feel the skin of his bare chest against yours, moving your legs to rub against the harsh fabric of his pants, his breath fans over your ear making your hair stand on end.

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life Si"

"Good"

He moves from the bed, your ears tuning in to the sounds of his movements as he passes through rooms, your breath hitching as the sound of objects setting on the side table makes you jump.

His palms flatten against your thighs, pushing them apart, pressing them into the bed as he spreads them, your arousal evident by the way your pussy glistens, you can feel his stare, the way his thumbs dig into your flesh as his gaze devours you.

He removes a hand, reaching over you, your muscles tense as he presses something freezing against your flesh, your hips squirming as he runs it over your inner thigh, the object dripping against your skin.

Ice

He runs the ice cube over the flesh, letting it drip from your body to the sheets as it melts, your breath quickening as your body tries to adjust to the cold. He drags it up your tight, moving it closer to your core before settling it atop your pussy, letting the cold water drip between your folds, watching it pass through your slick to trickle down.

He's silent, watching as the water moves over your skin, enjoying the way your body twitches as the cold touches sensitive spots. He holds the ice until it melts fully, your face contorting as you clench around nothing.

"Si, please"

"Shh, when I say so"

He was gonna take his time, watch you fall apart before splitting you open with his cock, he wanted you dumb, easy, ready to be taken by him in whatever way he pleased.

You release a breath as his hands move from you, your fingers tensing against the restraints as he shifts in his spot. You yelp as you feel heat his your skin, circles of flesh stinging for a moment before they calm down, he drips a trail down your stomach, watching the muscles tense under every drop.

He leads it toward your core, your pussy soaking as he pools the fluid above it, his fingers tracing up your legs, settling beside your core, as you arch your hips, trying to gain any sort of contact.

He teases two fingers around your sex, collecting your slick and running the digits over your hole, your pussy clenching as he teases at your entrance.

You whimper as he slides the fingers in, watching your cunt suck the digits in, stifling a groan from his chest as he pumps them into you, the fingers glistening with your slick.

He feels you clench down on him every time he lets a drop fall from the candle, your back arching slightly as the wax makes contact with your skin.

Everything is heightened, the burn of the wax after the chill from the ice, the way his large fingers slide into you with ease, curving to hit just the right spot as your fingers try to grab at anything that would ground you.

It feels too good and he's barely touched you, all you can feel is him now, his fingers pumping into you as he coax’s an orgasm from your body, listening to your noises and letting them guide him as your high builds inside you.

“M’gonna cum”

“Good, cum for me, cum on my fingers you little slut”

His words drive you over the edge, your push clamping down on his digits as he works you through your high, grazing them against the soft spot inside you over and over, watching your mouth fall open as your moans drip from your tongue.

He pulls his hand from you, leaving you feeling empty before pressing a cool object against your clit before letting you come down from your high, a straggled yelp from your throat as he turns the object on, letting it vibrate against the neglected bud, your hips twitching with the contact.

He trails a hand up your stomach, settling it at the base of your neck where his fingers lay against your pulse point, squeezing lightly as your limbs dig into the mattress, your hips arching into the vibrator as he holds it against you, refusing to let you move from it.

“I want you fucking soaked”

The room fills with your whimpers, your nerves on end as your legs shake lightly from the sensation, the remnants of your orgasm still lingering beneath the surface as he squeezes harder against your neck, suffocating your moans.

“You’re gonna cum one more time before I stuff you with my cock, you need to earn it you fucking whore”

Your grind your core against the toy, any sense of self consciousness gone as you chase your high, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“That’s it, ride the toy, make yourself cum”

Grazing your clit against the vibration, urging your high to surface as his hand moulds against your neck, your chest rising with heavy breaths.

His fingers press into the skin of your neck, his palm snug against your wind pipe as he silenced your cries, pushing the toy harder against your clit.

Your orgasm rips through your body, your moana reduced to strangled sobs as your body writhes under his grip, his hand keeping the vibrator on you as you try to pull your hips away, your legs weak from the stimulation as your body seizes.

“That’s it, so good for me”

He releases your neck letting you gasp for air and he replaces the toy with his fingers, easing you down from your high, your body wracked as your limbs rest weak against the bed.

He shifts his weight, leaning over your form, his fingers tracing against your wrists as you feel the knots around them loosen. You flex the digits as he unties you, pulling your arms to your side slowly, the flesh tingling as feeling returns to them.

His arms snake under your back, pulling you against him, one hand situated under your thigh holding you up as he lifts you from the bed. He placed you down, turning your body so your back is flush with his chest as his arm holds around your waist.

He tugs the fabric from your eyes, blinking slowly as light returns to them, he looks massive behind you, your weak form held up inky by his grip as your ass presses against his groin, his cock hard under his jeans.

You turn your gaze upward, eyes focusing on the sight of your body in the mirror, skin splotchy and hair a mess as he stands behind you, untouched.

His gaze is dark as he locks eyes with you in the mirror, his form dwarfing yours like he wants you to see how much bigger he is.

“Look at you, all worked up and you haven’t even had my cock yet”

Your mouth dries at the thought, he’s already wrecked your body with just his fingers, your pussy clenching at the thought of his cock splitting you open.

His hand grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back as you wince at the angle, he holds them tightly, subduing you from trying to touch him as his eyes take over your naked form in the mirror.

He glides two fingers through your folds, grinning when you whimper from the contact,

“Think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes”

“You can do better than that”

“Please, need to feel you”

“You need my cock little slut?”

“Yes, need it so bad”

His fingers work to undo his pants, pulling them lower, letting his length spring free, resting is against the curve of your ass as you grind lightly against him, a hiss from his mouth as your flesh makes contact with his erection.

“Don’t get greedy”

You plead with him through heavy eyes in the mirror, your flush skin a stark contrast to his pale chest as he presses against you.

“M’gonna ruin you”

He whispers in your ear, the words making goosebumps form on your skin as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, bending you forward slightly to get a better angle

“Keep your head forward, you move or close your eyes, I stop”

“Please, fuck me”

He bites back a grunt as he pushes into you, his eyes glued to the way your face scrunch’s as he stretches you out, forcing his cock into you.

“So goddamn tight”

Your mind is too fuzzy to hear the sounds that the slick from your core makes as he pushes deeper, coating his length in your juices as he stuffs you full of his cock.

“That’s it, take it all you fucking slag”

A growl from deep in his chest emerges as he bottoms out, his top pressing against your cervix as you adjust to the size of him, your walls squeezing his length.

Your knees buckle as he thrusts in, his arm locking around your waist to hold you up while he pumps his full length into you, dragging it along your soaked walls, his hips colliding with your ass with every stroke.

“Bloody hell, such a wet little cunt”

You struggle to keep your eyes open as he fucks you from behind, your state focused on the way he clenched his jaw as his eyes watch your pussy swallow him, your body rocking back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

He releases your hands, letting them fall forward against the mirror while his fingers move to toy with your clit, broken moans falling from your lips as your eyes meet his. He darkens his gaze as he circles the bud, working in time with his thrusts, your body on edge since your last two orgasms, the light in the room almost blinding as you struggle to hold your hands firm against the mirror.

“Wanna see you as you soak my cock, wanna feel this tight pussy squeeze me”

You scrunch your brows in an attempt to keep your eyes open, the sounds he’s making filling your ears as you use every bit of strength just to keep your head up.

He rubs quick circles around your clit, his cock driving into you, running against your soft spot, bringing you closer to the edge as your body grows hot, your skin damp with sweat as your watch his stomach tense with every thrust.

His hand moves from your waist, gripping around your neck to bring you against him, your back arched as your head makes contact with his chest, his large hand holding you tight to him.

“Watch yourself, cum on my cock”

Your hands reach for the mirror in front of you, trying to grab anything that wasn’t him as you feel the coil inside you burn your skin, searing your body as he grins behind you, feeling you clench down on his cock.

Your orgasm leaves you numb, your neck weak, lolling against his chest as he fucks you through it, gritted teeth resting beside your head as he watches you through the mirror.

"That's it baby, that's it, fuck"

His strokes grow sloppy, his eyes glued to your face as your body moulds to him, whispers of curses falling from his lips as he spills into you, his hips twitching as you release a wanton moan as the sensation of his cum filling you.

He holds his softening cock inside you, a heavy breath from your chest as you both come down, straining your arms against him as you try to move.

"Not done yet love"

His hands find purchase on your waist, walking you backward until your knees collide with the bed, your body falling backwards into the mattress as he lowers himself in front of you.

"Need to taste you"

You try to squirm your hips away but he plants his hands firmly on your legs, pinning you to the bed as he flattens his tongue, running it through your folds and collecting the combination of your spend, holding it in his mouth as he moves over your form.

He lowers himself over you, planting his lips on yours as he kisses you greedily, transferring the liquid into your mouth as his tongue swirls yours, the taste salty on your tastebuds as you swallow it.

He moves back, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he lowers himself back down, his lips latching around your clit as you sob, your head falling to the side.

"Please, s'too much"

"I say when it's too much"

He flicks his tongue over the bud, your body writhing under him as he holds you still, tears pricking your eyes as he works the muscle over your abused core.

He hums against your core, words escaping you as you sob into the sheet, saliva from your mouth pooling at the corners of your lips as it drips onto the fabric below.

"Taste so fucking sweet, one more for me"

He brings your orgasm quickly, your core still tensed from the previous as your vision blurs, tears falling to stain your skin as your fingers cling to the sheets, his hands holding your struggling hips still as your high rips through your body, taking away any remaining strength you had as you fall limp against the bed.

"That's it, my perfect little slut, m'gonna fill this cunt one more time, stuff you full of my seed"

You watch him with watery eyes as his chest presses to yours, his cock pushing into you as your weeping pussy takes him, letting him fill you with every inch, his elbows propped beside your head, caging you.

"You crying baby? Took my cock for a few minutes and you're all worked up"

His taunts pass through your ears, your senses dull to anything but the feeling of his cock filling you, thrusting in with every inch as your core soaks him, slick dripping from you to wet the sheets below, leaving a pool of arousal.

He runs a thumb over your cheek, smearing the drops of tears as you watch him with hooded eyes, your moans reduced to quiet whimpers as your mouth falls open. Your skin stained with saliva as it falls from your tongue, his lips quick to capture yours, swallowing your breaths as he fucks you, chasing his high.

You lull your head to the side, eyes moving slowly around, settling on the gleam of metal beside you, squinting to try and focus on the object before his hand settles at the back of your neck, tugging you into his shoulder as he presses his weight into you.

"Fuck, so fucking good, tell me you need it"

You struggle to form the words, your brain fogged,

"Tell me"

"Need to feel you, need your cum"

"That's right, want this cunt dripping with my seed"

He thrusts into you at a rapid pace, drawing the last breath from your chest before burying his cock in you, his arms holding you against him as he spills into you again, your pussy clenching around his length as he pumps it into you, the heat spreading from your core to envelop your skin.

He loosens his grip, letting your body rest lighter against the bed as he lays on top of you, his hands moving to hold yours, tugging them to wrap around his waist, a small hum of satisfaction leaving your lips as your fingers press against the flesh, finally able to touch him.

He waits a few minutes, catching his breath before slowly pulling his cock from you, whispers of apologies as you whimper at the loss, his body moving around the room, returning with a small towel to help clean your body, wiping it of sweat and wax, careful around your core to clean up the mess.

He sits beside you, an arm on your back helping you sit up, leaning against him as he raises a glass to your lips, letting you drink as much as you needed before finishing the cup himself.

You gaze around the room as he moves from the bed, your brain finally focusing on the object near the pillows,

"Is that your scyth"

He doesn't respond, just moves it from the bed, placing it against the wall and out of the way before sliding onto the mattress, his arms wrapping around you as he tugs you into him, your face nestled against his chest while he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

"Got a message from Price, I have to leave in two days"

"S'that why you're upset?"

He hums against your head, "Not enough time"

"We'll have time when you get back"

"Just want to be with you"

You press a light kiss to his chest, smiling when he doesn't pull away,

"Thank you for telling me"

"Thank you for helping"

He cranes his neck down to you, his features softer as you gaze up at him, reaching to kiss him, his soft lips pressing against yours,

"You should really find some outlet for your emotions"

He huffs a small laugh, lips pressing to your forehead as his head falls against the pillow, arms snug around you as your legs tangle between his, your bodies calm as you lay with each other.

[kooktrash]

fighting heart | jeon jungkook au

summary: never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more.

warnings: 15k words. smut. angst. boxer!jk x curvy,f!reader. violence [fight scenes]. mentions of blöod. rich y/n. degradation of y/n [a few times] but not by jk. mentions of wounds. y/n got some mommy milkers lowkey. big hips that jk likes t—. unprotected. fingering. handjob. missionary. sweet. y/n is whipped but Jk is whippeder. jin is kinda sketchy kinda not. tw: harmful language, physical violence, anatomical injuries. illegal fight club. gambling.

No where he went could he find silence. Rattling cages, loud chants and even bottles breaking. The room he was currently in was poorly lit. And he could barely see the damage that has been done. The room was in hues of green with dirty white tile showers and sinks with rust on them. The ground was covered in stains of old blood that didn’t wash away from the polished cement. Hanging above his head were fluorescent making hissing noises like the glass would soon burst into flames and shatter across the floor. They were flickering too, he could see them clearly through the dirty mirror he was staring at himself through.

He was a mess himself and he had no clue where to start. His hair was drenched in sweaty locks sticking to his face in strange whimsical lines. There was blood dripping down over his brow piercing somewhere on his hair line but he couldn’t see it clearly yet. There was a large red mark on his rib cages but other than those couple injuries he considered himself pretty clean.

The water pressure from the faucet was poor and when he first turned it on the water had a brown tint to it. He let it run over his wet rag squeezing out the excess before cleaning the blood and sweat off his face. He leaned forward and splashed water onto his face and rubbed some into his hair to at least rinse his sweaty hair a little bit. From behind him he could hear the swinging doors part ways as someone walked in with a huge grin on their face. He waved a stack of papers in his hand smacking it against the palm of his other hand, business suit and shoes sticking out from this room like a sore thumb. His hair was slipped back in a nice style and he looked better than Jungkook did at the moment.

“You killed it out there,” Kim Seokjin said as he leaned against the counter on the wall, staring at Jungkook’s back and the red mark on his side, “He got a few hits in it seems.” As he said that he moved to stand again walking over to the ice machine next to the broken paper towel dispenser. He took the big ziploc bags off the machine and began putting ice into one of the bags. He took plastic wrap with him as he walked over to Jungkook and motioned for the guy to lift his arm.

“Don’t worry kid, your cut is good today,” Jin said, pressing the ice bag to Jungkook’s injured side before bringing the wrap over it and pulling it around his torso to hold the bag down. Jungkook just looked at the drop of blood still leaking from the cut on his forehead making him reach out for his rag again. The sink had a new stain of blood on it from where his rag had been running under the water. He looked at Jin through the mirror, “How much?”

Jin smiled, “Little more than a grand but I got a few more investors out there looking to see another fight. You’ll get there once you focus fully on training.”

“I’m not a fighter,” Jungkook grumbled as he turned quickly once Jin finished up. There was a small limp to his step as he walked to his gym bag looking for clothes to change into. Jin shook his head in disbelief, “Not a fighter? Then tell me what I just watched tonight.”

“I told you this already. I’m not interested in doing anything more than a couple fights here and there,” Jungkook said putting on a worn out, oversized gray t-shirt. Jin groaned in frustration, “I don’t get why you’re so against it. You can make much more money if we go big. You’ll be rich you know? I can already see your fights on pay-per-view. Just think about the money, that’s why you’re doing this aren’t you? Think about your family.”

“I am thinking about my family, that’s why I’m saying no,” Jungkook told him, changing into some black sweats and throwing a hoodie on. The bag of ice was slowly melting but at this point he didn’t care about how ridiculous he looked, “They’d kill me if they knew I was fighting again, I’m sorry man, but no.”

He took his cut of the money from Jin, slipping his hood over his head and hoisting his gym bag on his shoulder, “Call me.”

His leg ached making his entire walk out of the underground club to his car all the more slow. His car lights blinked as it unlocked and he chucked his bag in the backseat finally getting in and starting the engine. Jungkook’s neighborhood was far from being nice but it’s location close to busy streets made night life more active. He got to his apartment shortly after, sirens going off just outside his window where he could see flashing lights and the tops of old buildings.

Despite how late it was, and his need to be alone he couldn’t have that. Not when his phone began ringing. He winced, reaching into his pocket and taking it out. Once he saw the caller ID he debated ignoring it. Now isn’t the time for it when he’s got a pretty girl in his bed telling him you don’t want to go home. But he answered anyway, “Hello?”

“Hi honey, I know it’s late but um,” his mother stuttered, he could practically picture her fidgeting, “We’re behind on rent again. I wouldn’t be coming to you if I didn’t need to.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, it was the same thing over and over every single time. He was in his bathroom now, pressing his phone to his ear, “When is it due?”

“Well it was due a couple days ago—“ “And what happened to what I sent you the other day?” Jungkook asked.

“Your father needed it for a, well, uh, I can’t remember but you’re my son, you’re more reliable than anyone else,” his mother said, making him roll his eyes. “So why’d you wait till now to tell me? Should I call your landlord and see how long it’s been overdue?”

“Yah, don’t be like that,” his mother begged, “You’re supposed to help your parents. That’s why you moved wasn’t it? Why are you even up so late? What have you been doing? Who were you with? Were you fighti—“

“I’m hanging up. I’ll send the money in the morning,” with a tired sigh he ended the call wincing once more when he reached up for the handle to his medicine cabinet.

His small rectangular window was his only source of light in the bathroom as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet but his first aid kit was empty. With a tired grunt he closed it back up and left looking around for his things pulling the melted ice bag away that was now just a puddle of water. He grabbed his wallet and keys before leaving his apartment once more, this time by foot.

After a five minute walk he found himself in front of a familiar convenience store and he went in, immediately going to the medical section. He probably shouldn’t be walking around with so much money on him but it was too late to worry about that.

“Oh my god hurry up, I’m literally scared for my life,” A girl squealed a couple aisles down and Jungkook tried to ignore her, “We should’ve just gotten it delivered.”

“And if they didn’t have what I wanted?” Another voice piped in, slightly more bearable than the previous one but with the same tone, “Besides everyone can hear you, y’know?” As if he’d been the one spoken to he looked up from under his hood, eyes softening for a fraction of a second as they met your stare. He was the first to look away once he caught his reflection on the fridge doors behind you filled with alcohol. There was a line of red down his forehead again and it made him duck down under the aisle top and look for what he needed.

“I don’t care who hears me, just get a bottle and let’s go. Jimin’s waiting,” The high pitched voice spoke again and Jungkook found a box of wound closure band-aids, pain killers, and icy/hot patches. You rolled your eyes at her looking over to the guy in the hoodie again, there was a red stain on his forehead that you noticed right away. A little after Jungkook found himself standing behind you in line. He didn’t expect to find such a sight in front of him. You were in a hot pink mini skirt and a white blouse that matched your heels. Your legs weren’t super long but your thighs were wider and so were your hips. It made the fabric of your skirt hug your curves in the best way possible.

You and your friend finished up with the cashier and he found himself twisting a lock of hair over the bleeding cut on his forehead to hide it. He could feel your eyes follow him for a moment as you left at that and he moved forward to the counter.

That night he healed his wounds in his studio apartment under the moonlight while you got in the back of a Porsche for a night drinking.

There was a stiffness in the air, like all the poise and class was just an act that was hard to maintain. At least that’s what Jungkook thought because as he looked around not a single person seemed to be what they tried so hard to appear. Now, he’ll admit he’s probably the most out of place here but that didn’t mean he couldn’t notice things. For instance, his partner wore an expensive suit with a shiny Rolex that demanded the attention of everyone in the room. Yet he still seemed gentle, far from intimidating which is what he’s so poorly tried to portray. A hand landed on his shoulder blade giving him a little shake as the man spoke, “Lighten up Jungkook, this is for you. You made me good money last week. Think of this as a sign of my appreciation.”

“Is that what this is?” Jungkook asked looking around the lounge room with expensive alcohol in crystal glasses and 100,000$ leather seats. He started to fix the cuff of his black button-up as he looked around some more. The men in here were either his age or way older, all in designer suits and watches. All the women were young, beautiful, lavished.

Just like the one who crossed his line of sight in a black, shimmery dress that was barely around mid-thigh. A silver, diamond charm bracelet on the wrist that matched every piece of jewelry on your body—from what he can see. You were far across from him, somewhere off with a group he couldn’t see well and the dim light applying a glow to you in particular. And yet he recognized you right away as the person from the store last night.

“I’ve treated you to dinner, I figured I might as well treat you to drinks too,” Seokjin said looking up from his phone just as Jungkook’s eyes snapped back to him, no longer focusing on the stranger. He released a sigh, “Alright, I want to talk about business. There’s another match this weekend. Two fights and a couple grand in your pocket. It’s short notice and you need time to recover but I was hoping to convince you.”

“Against who?” Jungkook asked tipping his glass of scotch back before placing it down on the small glass table between them two. Jin gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, “Some new kid and Park Seungmin. What do you say? Do I get it set?”

“Ask me again after a few drinks,” Jungkook said. Music played behind them but not nearly as loud as a regular night club’s and there was a faint smell of cigar. He hardly paid attention to whatever other small talk the two of them made, he was too tired to say anything on his own. He hadn’t even wanted to come out with Jin at first. It’s not that he didn’t like the guy. He did. The problem was that he could not understand why Jin would want to be a part of the kind of life Jungkook has involved himself in. Kim Seokjin came from money, the good kind of money.

It meant he’s never had to worry about food in his stomach or if the electricity would be cut off. He’s never lied about christmas presents he never recieved or about not having lunch money. He’s grown in gated communities and trips abroad for the holidays. There’s no reason for him to be making dirty money just because he could. Jungkook didn’t hate him, he just couldn’t never fully trust that Jin had his best interest in mind. All he knows is that he’s the only one Jungkook can go to at the moment and he’s going to see how far he can get. The downside was that Jin wanted him to go the professional route. He wants to mentor him and get him in more official rings that could be broadcasted. His boxing was good, Jin saw potential so he badgered Jungkook about it nonstop. He didn’t listen though, he was fine fixing cars and had no intention in being a professional fighter.

If he had paid more attention to Seokjin instead of the marks on his hands he might have noticed the way Jin casually looked around the lounge room. He seemed stuck on someone behind him, brows furrowed together in concentration before his eyes relaxed momentarily. He looked back to Jungkook, “I’ll be right back. I think I see someone I know.”

Jungkook didn’t bother responding, merely waving him off as he looked down at his phone. The money he just earned from his last match was enough to send to his parents but he still needs more for rent and utilities. His job won’t pay him till the day after rent is due and he can’t ask for another extension. If he wants to cover the rest he’ll have to do the fights Jin asked of him. He’s still a little sore from the last fight but if he tries to get back on training he should be fine.

“Look at all the space we have, just take a seat,” Jin said finally making Jungkook look up as three people were filing into the booth. He noticed right away when you were making your way into the rounded booth pretty much inching closer to him. He’ll admit, up close you’re even more beautiful than he thought when he looked at you from afar. Now he can see your features better than he had at the store. What are the chances that he ran into a random stranger twice? And one he thought about on his walk home from the store as a short distraction?

You didn’t shy away from looking him over as you finally sat down just a few inches away from him. Jin flashed him a smile, “Jungkook these are some friends of mine. This is Taehyung, Jia and Y/n. Everyone meet Jungkook.”

Jin didn’t give much time for introductions when he waved over a server and ordered more drinks for the table. Jungkook took his chance to get a look at you again and for the first time that night, your eyes met his. He was the first to crack even the smallest hint of a smile. You had a pretty face, your cheeks slightly rounded but your eyes were what drew him in. He likes the curve of your waist and the way your thighs look soft to the touch. Your dress had been a little higher from the back than the front and he understood why. You were so physically attractive to him. You had wider hips and a slight tummy pouch. The top of your dress was easily filled out by your chest which spilled slightly from the top. Your collarbone still seemed to protrude and a diamond necklace with your name engraved rested prettily on it. Y/n, he remembers the girl next to you saying it the other night.

“So what are you guys doing here? Don’t you have better places to drink at on a Saturday?” Jin asked once drinks came and Jungkook looked over to where the conversation was. Taehyung gave a shrug of his shoulders looking to his two friends, “Just wanted to get a few good drinks in before going out. Are you two free? Want to come with?”

Jin shared a look with Jungkook, “Yeah? Let some stress out.” He wasn’t sure though, he’s already over exerted himself being out with Jin but at the same time now that it’s been brought up he wouldn’t mind. There was a shift on his side and suddenly you were leaning forward to look at his face.

“I agree, if you’re stressed then maybe you should come have drinks with us,” you said with a bright smile. That convinced him way too easily and before he knew it, he was leaving with the rest of you to a club. He stood behind you in line and when you were all inside he was at the bar right there with you.

“You look familiar,” you said bluntly turning away from the bar counter to look at him while your drinks were made. It caught him off guard at first before saying, “You do too.” Your smile was softer now but just as pretty and you batted your lashes, “I know where I’ve seen you.”

“Where?” Jungkook wanted to see if you actually did recognize him or if he just looked familiar to someone else you’ve seen. You pointed a finger at him, “The store. You were dressed all emo and stuff.”

“I was just wearing dark colors,” What you said made him smile a little before adding in, “But yes, I recognize you too. You were wearing pink.”

“Oh you even remember what i had been wearing? Was it because you liked it or because you liked me?”

“Can I say both?” Jungkook said with a lighter tone now. He found you attractive, alluring even, despite your snobbish tone. Your eyes narrowed in interest and you let your eyes travel from the faded scar on his forehead to the belt holding his jeans up. He was attractive in a way you couldn’t explain. An absolutely beautiful intimidating man.“I thought I knew all of Jinnie’s friends, how come I don’t know you?” You asked taking your drinks from the bartender.

He gave a small shrug, “I wouldn’t say we’re close, more like acquaintances. How do you know him?”

“Family friends.” “All of you?” You gave a nod of your head taking a sip from your drink just as he did. You looked down at the hand he had on the bar too. It was covered in ink and rings on his pretty fingers but the more you looked the more you saw. It included red knuckles with faded purple and brown marks like bruises. Jungkook noticed right away where your attention had drifted and he opted for moving his hand off and keeping it to his side.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked suddenly trying to draw attention away from his hand and also speak some truth at the moment, “I think you’re beautiful.”

So he found himself closer to you later on in the night. His hand had even made itself to your hips as you sat on the stool scooted close to his. The two of you had completely forgotten about the group you were supposed to be with but they didn’t even attempt to intervene. If anyone seemed hesitant it was only Taehyung and Jin just brushed his worries away. He knew you well and you liked the fun, he knew Jungkook needed some fun even if it’s just for one night.

Later on in the night the two of you disappeared into a cab. He was more hesitant than you were to initiate any sort of intimate contact. Even inside the club he only had an arm around you and when he offered to take you home he was only hoping to spend a little more time with you before asking for your number. He didn’t expect for you to be on him in the back of the cab. Your lips were on his and he was kissing back eagerly, uncaring for the way the cab driver looked back at you.

“Just one address or two?” The driver asked as you pressed a kiss against Jungkook’s jaw leaving him breathless. His hand was on your curved back keeping you close as he barely had a chance to look over to the driver. You beat him to it when you pulled away for a quick second to mutter, “One address,” and went back to kissing him. He wasn’t complaining, he hasn’t done this in a while.

With work and all the matches he’s been in on top of training, he doesn’t have much time to go out and meet people who weren’t drunk placing bets on him. Even the women at the fights were drunk, a little more sleazy, not as clean and definitely didn’t have skin as soft as yours. His other hand found it’s way to your thigh, fingernails digging into the plump skin and he wanted to do more than just touch with his hands.

Jungkook’s not sure how it happened but they ended up at his place instead of yours, maybe because it was closer to the club or maybe because he gave it to the man first. Either way it was too late to argue about it when you were already urging him to get out. He quickly paid for the cab and was helping you, kissing you one last time as the cab drove off. He smiled sweetly, “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” You asked wrapping your arms around his mid section leaning into him when his arms went around your waist. He cleared his throat looking down at you slightly more concerned now, “With this, with me…”

You smiled, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You’re not even asking questions. Not about his bruises or cuts or red knuckles, “Besides, I like you so are you going to take me upstairs or am I just gonna stay out here.” Jungkook took your hand now dragging you behind him inside his building trying not to get your expression. He didn’t want to see how you’d feel about his clearly run down apartment. Even this late at night there were a few tenants just sitting around on the stairs. He moved you in front of him staying close behind you to avoid you being stared at by some creep from the back. Once you were in his dark apartment it was immediate.

You didn’t even look around the place, letting him lead you to creaky twin sized bed he called his own and kissed him roughly, hands pulling at his shirt immediately as he made himself comfortable sitting next to you. You were on your knees looking taller than him deepening the kiss with your tongue now and he was gladly kissing back just as hard. His hands found their way to your legs, squeezing once again at your meaty thighs that pressed against each other with no gap between. The fullness of your figure was so damn tempting and it had his fingers inching under your short dress.

When you didn’t seem to object to his touch he went ahead and let his hands circle around your hips to the back where he could feel a very small pair of panties covering very little. Like your thighs, your butt was squishy making his fingers sink into it as he felt you up and it had him groaning into your mouth in want. His mouth trailed down your jaw, sucking gently against your neck as his hands continued feeling you up, your dress already up and around your wide hips as he played with your underwear. A finger slipped under it holding it out as he let his hand feel underneath.

A breath caught in Jungkook’s throat when your hand was pressing against his thigh now, long nail barely grazing his leg moving closer and closer to his growing member. You seemed just as impatient as he did and it made him wonder how long it’s been for you too. He doubts it’s been as long as him. You took him by surprise when you started unbuttoning his jeans with one hand and with ease and he was helping you move them out of your way. Following your lead when your hand began to palm him over his briefs, he did the same.

You moaned softly into his mouth as his hand pressed against your slicked heat from behind with his arm around your waist pressing you into his side. His head was aligned with your heavy chest and when he leaned it against the silky fabric, he could feel the softness of your breasts. His free hand couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and feeling you better. You wore a thin, flimsy bralette that hadn’t even been enough to conceal your nipples throughout the night but it made it easier for him to feel you better. The weight of your breasts was heavy in his hand, flesh spilling between his large fingers and you were so damn soft, everywhere. It made him want to sink into you, press his face between them and just feel your warmth.

Your breath hitches as he circles your clit, sending small shocks throughout your body. He moved your underwear out of the way, revealing your perfect cunt to his fingers with no barrier. Just as your hand snuck under his briefs, his middle finger was running between your folds, slowly letting more into your tight snatch. Even down between your legs were you soft, just as plump and warm. Your hand held his cock now, almost fully hard and with a gentle stroke you felt him hardening even more. Finally his long finger sinks in just as the strap of your dress slipped off your shoulders exposing more of your breasts to him. Without thinking he tugged your bra down making your tits bulge out from on top even more, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

He was being honest as he kissed the plump flesh feeling it bounce along his tongue and he just wanted to take a nipple into his mouth and suck. You didn’t answer verbally but he could physically feel the light squeeze of his cock on an upstroke and he was groaning around your nipple. His face was still rubbing against your breasts as his middle finger pumped in and out of your wet cunt lathering it in more slick and he took the chance to sink another finger in. You gasp, your tits bouncing against his face and he let them rub over his face while simultaneously hitting that spongy pleasure spot in your tight walls, stroking it everytime his fingers sank back in. You were still on your knees on his bed and he was still holding you against his side as you jerked off his cock but he wanted more.

Fingers still inside your pussy, he began to stand not moving your hand off his dick as he lightly pushed you back to lie down. His hand left your folds from behind and slipped it between your thighs again from the front. His pace quickens, and he uses his weight to hold you down, twirling your thick buds with his tongue. You breathed heavily feeling the twitch of his member when your thumb ran over the slit in his tip over and over again.

Without thinking, and probably too rough, his hands were leaving your breasts and pussy to pull at the fabric of your dress. It’s been teasing him all night and he needed it gone, so that’s what he did. The fabric was no match for the rough yank he did on it making it tear open and he was harsh with the way he yanked it off your body groaning at the sight.

He stood taking his jeans and shirt off as you undid your bra kicking it off exposing large breasts to his hungry eyes. His hands run down your middle, the soft chub on your ribs and stomach sinking his finger in and he was staring down at you with awe, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You already said that, I want to know what you’ll do to show it to me,” you teased wiggling your hips when his hand went to pinch at them, squeezing and groaning at the feel. He could feel a bit of your hip bone but it was mostly covered in plumpness that made his mouth water. Your hips were good for squeezing and he wanted to take you. Suddenly, realization hit him like a truck.

“I—I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” you said already reaching between your bodies at his hard clock begging for attention, “As long as you’re clean and pull out.” He gave a brief nod of his head capturing your lips with his as you lined his dick up with your heat and did the honor of taking him. You moaned into each others mouth as he stopped at the ring of nerves that needed a bit more stretching. You were tight, he felt all the soft walls of your cunt squeeze his thick member as he sank in with a groan, squishing against you, breasts against his chest.

“Oh God,” you moaned against his lips at the first real thrust of his cock into your wet pussy and his hand was sliding down to grip your ass while the other was on your breasts. He squeezed both in time with a second thrust, still testing the waters before doing it again, quicker and rougher now.

His head rested against your neck, moaning your name softly, “So fucking beautiful, all of you, fuck Y/n.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled into your skin leaning down to take a fat tit into his mouth matching each lick of your nipple with a rough thrust. Suddenly he’s lifting himself up, hands leaving your sides to press against the bed on either side of your head. He looked down at your naked body licking his lips, slowly bringing his hips back before slamming into you with force that had your tits jiggling and his lips parted at the sight, doing it again so it could happen once more.

Jungkook lets out a long exhale as you continue to cry out his name making him work his lean hips, thrusting in and out of you with purpose.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, hands holding his sides as he fucks you, tight abdominal muscles flexing along with the veins leading to his dick all the way from his navel. The position only lasted a moment before he was laying his full weight on you again wanting to feel you pressed against him, body shaking along his.

“I’m so close,” you groaned when he gripped your ass, not being gentle in the way he squeezed, shaking it a bit and using it to fuck your pussy back into his cock, “Let me cum.”

“Fuck,” he slams himself into you feeling his entire body shudder but he was holding off, “Cum, fuck, cream my cock right now.”

“Oh God,” he groaned against your skin when you did just that, fingers curling as your release hit moaning beautifully into his ear and his body shook slightly. He was gentle but quick in the way he pulled out of you, your orgasm wavering as your slick leaked out of your folds. His cock was on your pubic bone now, spurts of creamy semen spilling onto you, covering you in his cum. His hand was on your knee for support but it was no use.

He was dead weight on top of you, but you don’t mind—you brush your fingers through his hair, giggling when you feel his soft lips kiss your breast, “You’re amazing.”

You felt his breathing begin to get uneven and you wrapped a leg around him continuing the brush of your fingers, caressing him since he seemed to need it. You held him in your arms as he clung to you. Now, you’ll admit, at this time you’d start getting your clothes again and find your things to leave. Maybe you would’ve already had a scheduled Uber but you weren’t doing any of that—and it wasn’t because he tore your dress in half. “You made me feel so good,” you whispered softly into his ear and it made him hum in appreciation, eyes shut slightly. He never realized how much tension he’d been holding onto without release until now that you held him.

You were naked and sticky, even sweaty, but that didn’t stop you two from snuggling after sex, his gentle lips leaving soft kisses along your neck tiredly as his eyes shut in relaxation. Like that, you both let sleep take over and you were warm in each other’s arms.

The sun shined brightly against your sleeping face. You squeezed your eyes shut some more but it did little to keep the light away. You decided to move, roll over and hide your face in one of your many pillows but as you tried to, you nearly fell. A yelp escaped your lips, face inches away from the floor as two arms caught you by the waist. Jungkook was half asleep but alert as he looked over your tired form. You fell back onto the twin sized bed pressed against Jungkook’s chest staring at your surroundings.

In better light and a clearer head you had a better chance to look around his apartment. It was smaller than you pictured when you were lying underneath him. You just didn’t realize it was this small. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been to a place that looked like this. His bedroom, kitchen and living room all in one space with ripped wallpaper and broken cabinets. Jungkook seemed to stiffen under you when he noticed where your mind was going.

Last night was… how should he put it without sounding so dramatic? He just felt very appreciated and not just his body but also the things he had to say. You paid very close attention to what he felt and it was more than anyone has in a while. Sure, the fighting gets him attention but not for anything good. It was abuse and exploitation. That made him hate himself but what he experienced last night was lively. He wouldn’t mind getting this feeling because of you again except you couldn’t be any more opposite and that’s what had him skeptical.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly, nervous because you have yet to say anything after your abrupt awakening and he’s itching to know what you think. His shabby apartment looked even worse than he imagined. You just gave a single nod and that made him anxious now, sliding a little out from under you trying not to pay attention to the way you were both still naked. He released a quiet sigh, “If you want to go home now, it’s okay, you can tell me.”

It was morning anyway, he’s not sure what he would expect differently. You seemed to snap out of your own thoughts turning as best as you could to lay on your stomach over him. He looked down at you with an expression you could only read as dejected, sullen or tired even. Your chest rests on his chest as you look up at him, “And what if I don’t want to go home yet?”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face when you ran your hand over his chest turning to look at him, “How about a shower together?”

You stared at the man in front of you expressionless, or well, you were trying to be. He, on the other hand, was open with you. A knowing smile on his face with brows raised in amusement. He was even leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to the right just slightly waiting for you to speak.

“You’re starting to creep me out,” You said with a roll of your eyes as you looked over the roof, city life thriving about sixty stories below you. Jin cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you had anything to say to me.”

“About?” You asked as the waitress came back with your food. You were seated across from Jin at some high end restaurant for lunch. It sat on the roof of some luxury hotel and it’s where you two decided to meet between your classes. You had a feeling you knew what this was about but you weren’t about to give in. A day and a half was spent in Jungkook’s presence. You didn’t even go to class the following day, instead you stayed in his apartment and did absolutely nothing.

“You’re a vixen, y’know? You sank your claws into Jungkook and got him, I applaud you,” Jin said making you roll your eyes again. “What are you talking about? You’ve got a crush on him or something?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been trying to get that guy to let loose but all he does is push every chance away,” Jin told you as he picked at his plate. Your eyes narrowed leaning forward against the table, “How do you two know each other, anyway? He didn’t really say.”

Jin sneered, “Of course he didn’t. He doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like what? No, don’t tell me,” you shook your head. You wanted to know because you were definitely interested. But was it your business? Jin smacked his tongue, “It’s nothing serious.”

“I’m his manager of sorts, but also an investor?” Jin said with a shrug taking a big bite, “He’s a boxer, like in the ring with glo—“

“I obviously know what a boxer is,” you said clearly annoyed with your older friend who just chuckled knowing he was getting under your skin. You were curious now, “Besides, what does it matter to you? You work in a law firm.”

Jin groaned as if he had a reason to be annoyed with you when clearly he didn’t, “I’ve got a few interests, alright? Sketchy? Maybe, but it is exciting. I met him a year ago when I was watching a boxing match. He was new and he was good, a lot of strength and control. I just have this idea that he can make it big and I can get him there. It’ll be a give and take. I already make good money off his fights from my cut and imagine what a bigger audience can do?”

“So what you’re saying is Jungkook… he makes money from boxing?” You asked and he just shook his head no. “No, well kinda? His family has a lot of debt—“

“Stop, stop talking,” you covered your ears suddenly, “I don’t want to hear about his private stuff unless it’s from him. I get it. You kinda work together?”

Jin rolled his eyes, “Yes but that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to know what transpired you to go with him the other night. I didn’t peg muscular, tatted, brooding men as your type.”

“I didn’t either,” you said honestly, “But I don’t know. I saw him one time before that at a store and he had been bleeding from his forehead. I think that’s why I was curious at first.”

“And now?” Jin asked making your brows furrow. “What do you mean now?”

He sighed, “I mean are you curious still? Jungkook is a good guy, great guy even but it wouldn’t work Y/n. Your parents would kill you if they found out you were seeing a guy like him. He’s not… he hasn’t had the same privileges as you and it just wouldn’t look good. He’s a great kid but he’s got real struggles that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Hypocrite much?” You asked with a tilt of your head, “Like you would understand those struggles more than me? Are you going to tell him this too or just me because I don’t think Jungkook would appreciate it.”

“Jungkook’s smart, I’m sure he understands why it wouldn’t work. You’ve been to his place I assume, you had some thoughts on it I know. But at the end of the day, I’m loyal to you as a friend more than Jungkook. I’ve known you since you were five and I’m looking out for your best interest.”

“I don’t need you to Jinnie,” you rolled your eyes as you pushed your finished plate away. He let the topic drop with a reluctant sigh. He really did appreciate Jungkook as a person and even as a friend of sort but at the end of the day… what they had never went beyond business. The dinner the other night was to discuss another tournament, what happened after was a spur of the moment. He had respect for Jungkook for what the kid has been through but that’s what makes him wary. He’s seen how mad he can get, how little he actually has to support himself and how battered his life was. You wouldn’t fit in anywhere and Jin cares about you too much to let you fall for someone like him.

“Besides, I’m seeing him later after class,” you said brightly. Jin couldn’t argue with you anymore, he just wanted you to know what he thought. He knew Jungkook was a good guy, he just didn’t think he was right for you. Suddenly you flashed him a bright smile, big puppy dog eyes and a bat of your lashes, “You’re treating me to lunch right?”

“You probably have more money than me Hotel Heiress,” Jin said with a scowl but you didn’t let up. Your bottom lip curling down, “But you invited me.”

“Aish,” he rolled his eyes at you as he took his wallet out, “You’re so annoying.” “Thank you Jinnie, you’re the best.”

He took you back to campus after lunch and you went to your last couple of classes. Taehyung waited for you outside your last class, “Jia and I want to go shopping, you coming?”

“No, Jungkook is waiting for me outside,” you told him reading over Jungkook’s text telling you where he was. Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “Jungkook? The guy from the other night? Don’t tell me you’re seeing him again.”

“Fine I won’t tell you.” “Y/n I’m serious, I don’t know him but the other night something seemed of—Y/n!”

“Bye!” You sang as you saw Jungkook’s black, tinted car. He was outside waiting for you and a smile spread across his face. He pulled you in for a hug, “Aren't you cold?”

“Shivering,” you said with trembling teeth and he helped you into his car ignoring the rise of your skirt. Once he was inside he kicked the heat up, “So where do we go?”

He was nervous. He hasn’t seen you in a couple days and now that it’s the weekend he’s not sure what he should do. Is this a date? Do you even want to date him? You didn’t ask him anything over the time you were at his place but he could tell you wanted to. Would you run away when you found out the extent of his struggles? You bit your bottom lip in thought, humming as you tried to think of something, “Lets go to my place.”

So he followed the directions to the other side of the city where he’d dropped you off just days ago. He only got to look at the outside of the skyscraper hotel with your last name displayed in metal letters under the hotel’s name. The inside was gorgeous, marble everywhere with white clay walls and curved edges that gave the hotel a seamless image. Even the furniture was the color of the walls and the only pop of colors were deep green and shades of brown. He let you drag him into the elevator where you pushed for the top floor putting your key in to unlock the floor and he traveled the hundred stories up.

The second the elevator to your floor opened Jungkook’s breath hitched. He didn’t realize you had the entire floor to yourself until he walked in and saw the various doors to different amenities all just for you ranging from private gym to an entire room larger than his apartment dedicated to shoes and handbags. You walked down the hall to the main living space and he continued to look around. Large kitchen, large windows that looked over the skyline with a pool on the balcony.

“So this is your place?” He asked obviously as you went to your bedroom which, once again, was bigger than his apartment with a king sized bed and canopy. You gave a quick nod of your head disappearing into your closet to change into something warmer, “18th birthday present.”

He was too nervous to even sit on your bed but you came out all joyous jumping on him and tackling him down on it. Immediately, a jolt of pain shot up his side making him wince and you jumped to get off his lap. His hands gripped your waist keeping you in place and your brows furrowed in concern. You reached for his shirt when he held your wrist to stop you but you pulled it up anyway. Jungkook’s face heated when you stared at the faded bruise on his side. It was worse than it was when you two had sex, it was more brown now with yellow around the edges since it was old.

Your finger just barely brushed over it enough that it didn’t hurt but he still flinched at the contact making you frown as you straddle his groin, “You were fighting?”

His eyes widened at first but relaxed when he realized who would’ve told you. Maybe you were closer with Jin than he thought. Lord knows he only sees Jin when it comes to the business they’ve involved themselves with. You, on the other hand, were at Jin’s societal level and probably saw him at galas and fashion shows. So Jin told you about the fighting and you still let him into your home? Without another word you shimmied off his lap and he could feel his heart drop. Maybe you were rethinking things. Maybe you saw that it was a bad idea to get involved with him and now you’re backing out. He wouldn’t blame you after seeing the way you lived compared to him. He expected you to kick him out, not to lean down and press a soft kiss on his ribs, “Did you at least win?”

Jungkook gave a slight nod of his head in response and you smiled moving to lay on the bed now right next to him. You sat your head up on your palm looking over to him, “Do you like boxing?” He shook his head honestly and it made you frown, “So why do it then?”

He was quiet for a moment, “I’m good at it and it’s easy money.” “This is easy money?” you pointed to his bruise but before he could answer you were backtracking, “I mean… I’m just trying to understand but you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but lean forward to press a gentle kiss on your lips before wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you into his side, “Why are you so perfect? Aren’t you a little scared? I’m not a good guy.”

“Why? Because you beat the shit out of people for money? Oh yeah you’re such a thug,” you rolled your eyes, “Besides, I’m not perfect, I’m actually a spoiled bitch.” He laughed along with you snuggling in your bed despite the sun still being out.

“To answer your question from earlier, the only reason why I do this is to help out my parents. They’d kill me if they found out but they’ve got a lot of debt and I want to help them how I can. I dropped out of school my final year and I went straight to work,” Jungkook began to open up, “I didn’t want to leave school but we needed the money so I had to get to work. There weren’t many options where I’m from so I packed up my shit and came here.”

“Wasn’t that hard?” You asked cutely and he could see it in your eyes that even if you didn’t understand, you wanted to. He nodded, “Yeah, I slept on a lot of couches at first. I couldn’t get a good job since I didn’t have a diploma but I started working as a mechanic and was able to get the place I’m at now for cheap if I fix maintenance problems myself.”

“I met this guy who told me he knew how I could make quick money and it was just supposed to be a one time thing but I can’t support myself and my parents with just the car shop.”

“And Jin wants you to be a legitimate boxer? Like one of those lightweight champion fighters?” You asked making him crack a smile as you laid on his chest. He began to play with your hair, “Yeah and I just don’t get it. I’m not going to get far. I don’t how to play by all the rules. I don’t think it’s worth the risk. For now I’m fine working at the auto shop.

“But, you don’t want to see if it actually works out?” You asked curiously, “And would you want to work as a mechanic forever?”

“I’m not thinking about forever, I’m thinking about the present and what gets me by. When I get a chance to live comfortably then I’ll look at the bigger picture but I still don’t think it would be boxing.” He was honest and a little blunt but he didn’t mean to sound that way. He was just being realistic. He knows he’s living paycheck to paycheck and still coming up short but it’s what he needs to do right now. He can’t dedicate himself to a career where he doesn’t get paid frequently unless he trains and devotes all his time.

You didn’t say anything for a moment and it made him wonder if he made you uncomfortable. It’s not that he thinks you had it easy growing up but clearly you’ve grown up with a totally different mindset and endless possibilities. After a while before he could backtrack you spoke, “I see what you’re saying, sorry,” you mumbled and he seemed to squeeze you in his hold. He shook his head no though you couldn’t see him, “Don’t apologize. You were just curious.”

‘So can I go to see you?” You weren’t even done saying what you wanted to say when Jungkook was muttering a few ‘no’s’ making you turn to face him now still laying on him. You went to move back and his arm stayed loose around you but let you move, “Why not?”

“Because it gets really ugly and it’s dangerous. It’s not something I want the girl I’m into to see,” he said mixing in a confession and putting it out there for you to understand what he’s on. He absolutely had no desire to get close to anyone romantically but now that he has, he’s really interested. He finds you attractive but it wasn’t just that. You seemed to listen to him and though you could, you don’t judge him— or at least he didn’t hink you do. You looked at him with an annoyed expression but it was playful, “But I want to see you.”

You didn’t directly say you were into him but you did lean in for a kiss letting his lips meet yours softly. You released a soft moan when his arm tightened back around you turning his body slightly to kiss you better. The two of you pulled apart but his hand was still cupping your face gently and he looked down at you. You opened your mouth to say something but he immediately shut you up with another kiss before pulling away again, “So pl—“ Then another kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help but laugh when he did it again quickly now, “Please let me wa—okay!—“ kiss after kiss on your lips so you wouldn’t keep talking about seeing him fight.

He wouldn’t let you.

Or so he thought. Jungkook held your hand tightly as he led you through the thick crowd watching the fight from before. You looked around anxiously now. It was louder than you imagined, dirtier, rougher. It reeked of alcohol and dirty money. You could feel the stares on you when you walked past and though it made you uncomfortable, you felt a little better with Jungkook there.

He sensed your unease because he pulled you closer until his arm could wrap around your waist, pressing his face against yours to whisper in your ear, “You still okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded leaning in to give him a quick kiss as he smiled, “Alright, I gotta get ready.”

“Jungkook! My man, you’re late,” a guy with a huge grin on his face approached. You ignored the way he seemed to look at your figure but Jungkook was pulling you closer to his side than before. Jungkook just smiled, “Things came up.”

“I see that,” the guy’s eyes stopped at your legs, then your hips, and chest, “I’m Hoseok by the way.”

“Y/n,” you answered in a snobby tone as you glared back at him. He was way too open with staring you down when Jungkook was there. Jungkook thought the same and it had him pulling you along, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

It was still strange to see you in the locker room with him. The same grimy room he was in last time when he was beaten pretty bad and still came out on top. You tried to hide your disgust but he could see it in the way you avoided touching anything. Jungkook cleared his throat, “I can take you back to the car, if you want.”

“Why would I want to leave?” You asked moving closer to him as he attempted to wrap his fists up by himself. Jin should be here soon to help him with that but until then you’ll just watch him get ready. He looked over to you, in your skirt and sweater making him even more nervous. He asked you to dress down, not because he didn’t love seeing your pretty outfits, but because he didn’t want anyone to get any ideas with you. He’d hate to hop out of the ring so people wouldn’t come at his girlfriend. It still feels weird to say that. Never did he imagine he’d get swept up so quickly and yet here you were, absolutely breathtaking and sweet.

His breath hitched so suddenly, your arms wrapped around his exposed torso in a back hug pressing a kiss to his shoulder plate. He turned his head to look back at you and you took the opportunity to kiss him on the lips.

“Sneaky little snake Y/n.”

You pulled away with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook looked to the swinging doors as Jin walked in. Jin glared at you, “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you’re going to a summer Christmas party?”

“I’m covering up,” you said only answering his last question as you let go of Jungkook to give Jin a spin, “Don’t I look pretty?”

“You always do,” Jin said with a shrug as Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in his direction at that comment. He still has to get used to the fact you’re very close with Jin. Tame his jealousy and be less serious all the time. His friend seemed to be thinking the same since he rolled his eyes, “Don’t look at me like that. Why’d you bring Y/n to a place like this?”

“Because I asked,” you said when Jin stepped up to help Jungkook put his gloves on. He scoffed, “And Jungkook is fine just doing whatever you ask?”

When Jungkook didn’t say anything Jin released an annoyed huff of breath as he finished up with the wrappings. Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you as he lifted his gloved hands to reach for you. Jin looked between you two muttering something under his breath as he walked out the door giving you two a minute. Jungkook put the gloves on your hips as you moved between his legs looking down at him from where he was sitting on the bench. Your arms rested on his shoulders as he looked up at you with rounded eyes. He leaned forward resting his forehead on your chest, “I’m happy you’re here tonight.”

“Really? I thought you told me no,” you said playfully and he looked up again, still resting on you, squeezing you even closer to him. “But it’s nice to have someone there for me.”

You didn’t know what to say so instead your hands slid up from his shoulders to his face and you leaned down to meet his lips. He kissed back immediately, trying to touch you more but his gloves didn’t let him. It was short and sweet only interrupted when Jin opened the door back up.

He looked to you, “Come on, we’ll find somewhere to be, let Jungkook concentrate before the fight. He’s going up against a new guy first.”

Jungkook gave you a kiss goodbye and you told him good luck and left. You stood with Jin at the closest seats to the ring and he was trying to let you know what might happen tonight.

“So there’s two fights for him. The first will probably be the easiest but if he’s too worn out in the second he might not win. Now, he’s got a winning streak and a lot of people don’t like that so they’ll be fighting dirty tonight,” Jin told you honestly, “A lot of people are mad they’re losing money to him and there’s very few rules here. There’s a couple illegal moves but a lot of it is free game so beware he could get seriously hurt. Hence why I want him to go the professional route but he won’t, his family doesn’t want him fighting. If anyone talks to you don’t even entertain it, alright?”

“Yes dad,” you said, though you were definitely feeling anxious now. Music was loud but yelling was louder. It reeked of sweat, alcohol, blood. It was dirty and crowded and you could feel people looking at you. There were very few females here and they all glared at you too. Jungkook told you to not even bring your purse but you still felt like you needed to keep your possession close.

When Jungkook came out in just a pair of boxing shorts and shoes, mouth guard in looking like a completely different man than the one you kissed just moments ago, you saw him in a new light. Reality was hitting you that he was very much an intimidating man. When he passed you by he didn’t shy away from going to you for a good luck kiss before jumping over rope to get into the ring. When he kissed you it only made more heads turn.

You didn’t pay much attention to what the ref[?] was saying because it was so overwhelmingly loud in here. Practically overstimulating you and suddenly you weren’t so thrilled being here. Jungkook looked scary but so damn attractive, jumping from foot to foot getting his blood pumping as the other guy came in. He was roughly the same size as Jungkook, just less muscle. “You’re in for a show,” a voice spoke as someone plopped down next to you. You looked over to Hoseok who now sat on your left while Jin sat on your right.

“How much?” Jin asked him and they leaned over you to discuss betting amounts. When the bell rang you paid your full attention to the scene before you. Since this wasn’t such a professional fight there were less rounds to go through and the first knockout was a win. Only three rounds and he needed to score high on two to win.

The first round wasn’t a clear win. Jungkook did the first hit making the guy stumble back and you understood why everyone was so energetic. This was nerve wracking and everyone shouting for the one they wanted to win was getting to you. It was during the second round when things began to heat up. This time the other guy did the first hit, a hard fist to Jungkook’s bruised side but he didn’t even flinch. He delivered a harsh blow to the guy’s jaw giving him an uppercut that sent him stumbling against the ropes.

His body slipped to the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and your hands clasped together as the referee counted the seconds for knockout. The guy attempted to get back up but only kept slipping down on the floor. When the whistle blew the round was given to Jungkook. You clapped happily now making him look over to you with a small smile. He was already drenched in sweat, long hair stuck around his face and clearly out of breath. Jin got up with a bottled water and towel taking it to Jungkook as they talked about something you couldn’t here.

“What do you think so far?” Hoseok asked you as the third round started and your eyes locked in on the fight. You have a shy shrug, “It’s… new.”

Hoseok chuckled, “I bet it is, you’re the only one I’ve ever seen wear Cartier here. Better to take it off before someone else sees it.” You nodded but you didn’t take it off in case you’d lose it. Instead you hid it under your sweater now. The third round was quicker, it took one blow for the guy to fall and laughter rose around you.

By the end of the fight, Jin was hurrying you up to the locker room assigned to Jungkook again. Jungkook was already at the sink examining the damage but when he saw you he hid his bruised side. You didn’t even have to say anything when he was reaching for you, “You okay? Is this too much? I’ll have Jin take you to the car, did anyone say anything to you? I’m sorry, this is probably jus—“

You shut him up with a kiss, his body immediately relaxing into it as his head tilted to the side to deepen it with his tongue. Jin audibly gagged behind you, “I miss Jungkook when he was depressed. Now all you two do is eat each other’s faces off. How you feeling Kook?”

“Good, nothing major,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly when Jin passed him an ice bag. The break till the next fight was really short. The guy he would be going up against had already fought his contender when Jungkook arrived. Once they have their fight and marks are tallied they’ll know who wins. If he wins he’ll be able to pay off some of his loans before the loan sharks come knocking on his door again. He’ll send money for his parent’s bills. He’ll pay his car payment, utilities, buy groceries, and take you out on a date. It won’t be as nice as you’re probably used to but hopefully he can do something. He’ll show you that even if he doesn’t have the kind of money you do, he’ll do anything for you to see how strongly he feels.

Having a support system in the audience cheering him on was motivation to win and he promises he’ll win for you. You wanted to watch him fight so he’ll give it his all.

You got back to your seats once the warning for the next fight came. Jin clutched your hand, “You’re holding up better than I thought. You’re usually more high maintenance. You don’t even like going to the gym because it makes you sweat.”

“But sweat looks so good on Jungkook,” you answered looking at Jungkook, “Now shut up. The fights about to start.”

“You think this guy’s got a chance against Seungmin?”

“Nah, he’s not that focused tonight. Probably because his bitch is in the crowd.”

Your brows furrowed at who was talking about you. Jin shook his head when you tried to turn and look, “Just ignore it.”

The first round started heavy. Jungkook’s opponent threw the first blow right in his face. His head whipped back as he was hit in the nose and you visibly winced. Jungkook didn’t feel too much pain from it, probably due to adrenaline, but it made his eyes water and blur for a second giving the guy a chance to hit him in the gut.

The crowd was going crazy around you as Jungkook delivered three hits in but his body collapsed to the floor. The guy had hit the back of Jungkook’s head that had him stumbling down on the floor in pain. You gripped Jin’s arm, “Isn’t that illegal?” He only shook his head, “Not here.”

10

9

8

7…

You waited to see if he’d get up but he couldn’t lift his head. Your leg was bouncing anxiously and before you knew it, the round ended with a knock out. Jin got up immediately going to Jungkook’s aid and he looked worse for wear. The round was given to the other guy and before you could even think you were walking to the rope. Jin was wiping blood off Jungkook’s face grabbing the back of his head checking for blood.

“He’s got a heavy hand,” Jungkook panted out of breath feeling his ears drum. Jin held his head, “Block your fucking head Jungkook. He’s playing extra dirty, he’s going to keep going for it if you’re already injured.”

“Jungkook,” you said softly making him turn, finally noticing you and suddenly he was sitting up on the stool. He sniffled, “Yes baby? Are you okay? I promise I’m fine, if it’s too much don’t look—“

“Fighter’s ready!”

Jin gave Jungkook a kiss on his forehead, “Two rounds. You gotta win this and then you get a pay grade. Alright?” Jin led you back to your seat before you could even talk to Jungkook more but maybe it was for the better.

Jungkook was tired, worn out from the last round and the fight before. His opponent at least had resting time after his fight since Jungkook’s fight was after. Jungkook didn’t get as long of a break before he was thrown into the last fight. He stood in position for the bell to ring but the guy across from him was jittery.

A smirk on his face as he looked over the audience before he snickered, “Brought your toy along? I like her, might just take her from you.”

Jungkook tried to ignore it, jaw tense as he reeled in his anger. The guy was a shit talker, he wanted to get in Jungkook’s head but he won’t let him. He just wants Jungkook to lose focus but he won’t. The second the bell rang Jungkook gave the first hit, getting Seungmin right in the stomach before giving him another hit on the side of his head.

You watched anxiously, Jungkook seemed to have felt better enough to fight back stronger. Hoseok looked over to you, “The kid’s got it, he’ll win.”

You’re not worried about him winning. You’re worried about how hurt he’ll be after and you understand now why Jungkook didn’t want you here. He was strong, he could fight and hold his own but watching him get beat black and blue was heartbreaking. But you couldn’t look away. You were at the edge of your seat, there was blood dripping down Jungkook’s eyes painting it red but he kept fighting, he stayed on his feet even when he was backed into a corner. He blocked his head with gloves and when Seungmin least expected it he punched his nose then jaw. The opponent’s body whipped with the force of the hit and though he tried grabbing rope, he crashed to the floor.

Jungkook was jumping from foot to foot keeping himself moving as the ref counted down to knockout and he released a breath. He sat on the stool in the corner of the ring tipping his head back staring up at the hanging lightbulb over them. They’re tie. This last round will declare the winner of this fight and it has to be him. He can get a few hundred and though most will go to bills he swears he’s going to try and take you out.

Jin was in front of him again, this time he pressed an Enswell to the cut above his brow, “Last round, it’s yours man, I can feel it. You’re faster, you’ve got more coordination. How’s your eye?”

“Hurts like a bitch,” Jungkook confessed through his mouth guard. He turned to look for you but stopped, wincing when Jin wiped the blood away. The cold metal against his skin was numbing the pain but he could still feel his eye swelling, “How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, focus on your opponent not your girlfriend,” Jin said harshly but he only meant it out of concern. He wanted Jungkook to be focused so he wouldn’t get so roughed up in the last round.

Now it was the last round. He shifted his mouth guard to fit better as he stared at Seungmin. He watched his head turn to look at you, eyes wandering up the expanse of your legs to your skirt. His words were mumbled due to the guard but he could understand him clearly, “Yeah, I’ll take her as my prize. She’ll look good as my bitch, bet she’s got a fat ass t—“

Jungkook shoved him, the crowd growing louder as the ref blew the whistle, pulling them apart. The guy only laughed glaring at Jungkook, “Look real nice with her legs spread just for me. She tight?”

The whistle blew.

The first throw Jungkook took didn’t land, it was too blinded by rage that Seungmin touched him first backing him up into the corner again with his larger build, “Bet she likes to fuck dirty with that body.”

Jungkook struggled, moving too quick to cause real damage and block his eye at the same time. Seungmin kept going, “You think she’ll put up a bigger fight than you? I like the figh—“

His breath was knocked out of his body when Jungkook threw a direct punch to his diaphragm making him stumble back. As he clutched his chest Jungkook took the opportunity to hit where his kidney should be, bringing the guy down to his knees in pain.

You were on your feet with everyone else cheering Jungkook on unbeknownst to what was being said about you. Though Seungmin was down, anytime he tried to get up Jungkook would stop him. With an uppercut, Jungkook punched right at Seungmin’s ear sending a ring down his ear drums and he fell to his side.

But Jungkook didn’t stop. The gloves made it hard for him to really get his hands on him but he wasn’t done. He didn’t even care about the round. He cared about beating the fuck out of this piece of shit for talking about you, so he did. He got over the guy, straddling his curled position as Seungmin blocked his own head from being hit. There were no rules outside of no weapons, and no weighted gloves so he wasn’t stopping until he was dragged off of him.

“Jungkook!” Jin called out when Jungkook brought a fist back and hit over the man’s hands getting as much of his head as he could. He raised another arm to do it again as the whistle blew.

He delivered another blow feeling the bounce of the mat, the ref saying he won since it was a knockout but he wasn’t done.

Just as he was ready to give him another hit he was being yanked off but he wanted more. He wanted the guy bloody and bruised for the way he talked about you. He lurched forward to do it but strong arms held him back, two people telling him to stop. The ref raised Jungkook, “The winner! There, you’re done with the fighting!”

He had to be dragged out of the ring by Hoseok and Jin. He could barely see out of his eye and the crowd half cheered half booed, “Where’s Y/n?”

He was feeling dizzy, drained and tired. Jin sat him down on the bench and you went to get ice. You wanted to cry though you had no reason to. He just looked so scary out there but also, he was clearly beat. You had to collect yourself instead of let your emotions show. You’re the one who begged him to let you see him fight. You passed the bag to Jin feeling like you needed to catch your breath. Jin let you sit next to Jungkook who seemed too far into his own world to pay attention.

He was hot, his body was on fire and he was breathing heavy, leg bouncing as he thought back to what Seungmin had been saying. The fucking disrespect. Even if you weren’t his girlfriend, how could Seungmin say things like that and expect Jungkook to not react? He wanted to fight him again, it was all he could think about.

“Take the keys,” Jin told you and you did. Hoseok came in shortly after, “I’ve got the cut. Seungmin’s mad, cussing at everyone saying it’s cheating.”

“Says who?” Jin scoffed making Hoseok shrug, “No one. Jungkook won, everyone could see Seungmin was instigating and now he’s mad he got his ass handed to him.”

He chuckled as Jin took Jungkook’s gloves off and the mouth guard fell to the floor. Jungkook grabbed a t-shirt ignoring his wounds as he stood suddenly. He grabbed his things and like confused idiots you all rushed after him.

The place was still bustling with drunk energy and Seungmin’s voice was heard over it all.

“Take him out the ring and I’ll fucking beat him.”

You stayed a little behind as Jin tried grabbing at Jungkook but he just pushed him off.

“I call rematch and I’ll take the money and his bitc—“

Okay, well now you knew what he had been telling Jungkook. Jungkook turned Seungmin around but before the guy could react, a hard fist was colliding with his nose. Screams erupted, some urging the fight, some calling security. This entire time Jungkook had been silent with only a deadly look in his eyes. You gasped loudly when the guy threw Jungkook off trying to get on top of him but Jungkook wasn’t letting him. His fists weren’t stopping and they were covered in blood now.

“Jungkook!” You didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t just go in and stop the fight like an idiot but you didn’t want Jungkook to do something he’ll regret. Jin seemed to be thinking the same because he did try and get Jungkook off only to be shoved aside.

Suddenly, security was there, picking Jungkook up with an arm around his neck locking him in. He fought against the hold once Seungmin was sitting up spitting out blood but Hoseok cut in. You didn’t know he was the one in charge of it all but it made sense now.

“Enough!” He yelled out, “If you’re not inside that ring you’re not fucking fighting or your asses are done!”

You walked to Jungkook practically feeling the heat radiating off him but you tried being gentle as he fought against the security still, “Hey, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t even look at you, eyes set on the guy and before he could stop himself he was lunging for him again catching security off guard and accidentally releasing him. Seungmin fell into a group of people when Jungkook did it again. You covered your eyes blocking out the yelling as they tried getting him off.

This time security wasn’t so nice, picking Jungkook up and throwing him on the ground making him gasp for air from his injuries. You immediately went to him, “Stop, please, can you please just stop.”

You didn’t notice you were crying as Jin helped Jungkook up and silently dragged him out. Jungkook was mad even as you made it outside.

“I fucking told you not to come!” Jungkook yelled, “I told you Y/n.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologized, making Jin shove Jungkook into the passenger seat. “Stop acting fucking crazy or I’m leaving your ass here and taking Y/n home.”

You had the keys with you, hurrying to start the car so the two of you could leave but Jin was at Jungkook’s window. You rolled it down for him and the look on Jin’s face was saddened.

“Hoseok took half the cut for fighting outside the ring.”

“What?” Jungkook asked sitting up in his seat. Jin just nodded, “Took it, man I told you not to act out.”

Jungkook took the amount that was in Jin’s hands counting it up before cursing. It wasn’t nearly enough, not for everything. It wasn’t even enough to pay his family’s bills. When Jin pulled back you took the opportunity to drive but you didn’t take him to his place.

You were struggling when you pulled into the parking spot in the hotel parking garage and dragged him out. The garage was connected to the side of the hotel so you took him in the elevator as far as you could go and went up. As long as you avoided the lobby nobody would no how badly your boyfriend was beat.

He was silent now, all the pain finally hitting him at once and he felt hopeless. All that was for nothing. He won but at what cost? He let his emotions get the best of him and he yelled at you. Fuck, why did he do that? He couldn’t even apologize, it’s like his mouth had been sewn shut and look at this. You’re having to drag him yourself because he can’t walk himself. How pathetic.

When you got to a floor you found a cleaner and called to her as you got onto the right elevator hiding Jungkook against the wall, “Take a first aid kit to my room.” Everyone knew who you were and you couldn’t risk Jungkook being seen and your father being notified. The woman just nodded, running off already and you went to your floor. Jungkook didn’t say anything about coming to your place instead of his. He would’ve if he wasn’t trying to faint.

It didn’t take long for the first aid kit to get to your place and he followed you in.

He didn’t feel too awful but he was embarrassed. He didn’t even want you looking at him. His eye is practically swollen shut but thankfully it wasn’t the side with the piercing on it. He could still feel some blood on it but he had to force himself to ignore it as he followed you to your bathroom. You were bent over running the water in your overly large bath tub. You directed him to sit on the marble side of it and he did as told. You reached out to pull his shirt up but he stopped you.

“I can do it,” he mumbled looking down, “I’m fine.” You tried getting him to look and he wouldn’t but when you lifted his head he turned away making you frown, “You sure?”

“I don’t want you seeing me like this,” his voice was raspy, “Fuck I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you said, holding his face gently, “But look at me, please.” It took him a second but when he did you released a sigh. You had a warm wet cloth as you began cleaning his eye area, “I’m here.”

He looked at you close to tears. “You don’t have to do everything alone. I want to take care of you too,” you said, making him sniffle. He shook his head, “I always do it alone, it's okay.”

“It’s not,” you said once he was finally undressed. You checked the water and poured some bath salts in and urged him to get in. He was naked in front of you but you couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want you to see all the pain he went through even if he says it’s not that bad. You sat on the edge of the tub waiting for him to get in and he did so shyly. As he sank into the warm water he looked back at you, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you in the car. I’m sorry you had to see me like that, okay? If you don’t want to be with me because of it I wo—“

“You won’t what? Stop me?” You asked cupping water in your hands and letting it run over his body, “So if I tell you right now that I don’t want you, you’ll just leave without a fight? You must not like me that much.”

“I love you,” he blurted out, happy that he was facing the wall instead of you but he would rather have you in here with him, “That’s why I wouldn’t stop you from leaving me. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Says who?”

“Y/n be serious, please,” Jungkook released a sigh turning to look at you. Now that he’s more cleaned up his wounds don’t look so bad but his eye was still swollen and his knuckles were bloody, “Look at me. Look at what I did tonight and where I live an—“

“I am looking,” you told him with your hands in his hair wetting it, “And tonight made me realize that I’m in love with you. I don’t care about where you live, I don’t care about any of that.”

“But I do,” he said when you started tugging your skirt and sweater off. Yes, he wanted you in his arms in this tub big enough to fit four people, but he didn’t want to just think about himself. He wanted you to know that he understands how different you two are and if tonight scared you, he understands why. He was a monster.

“Why?” You asked, sinking in across from him, “Why do you care about that stuff if I don’t?”

“Because it’s not enough for you. I want to give you so much of myself. I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated and I can’t,” Jungkook said honestly, voice cracking here and there, “I’m not good enough, I fight to make money and look what happens. I can’t control myself, I yelled at you for no fucking reason and I hate myself so much.”

“Because you yelled at me or because you don’t think you’re enough?” You asked cautiously, making him shake his head no but he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Yeah, he strongly disliked himself. He worked his ass off and it was never enough. He never had enough money, enough food, enough restraint, stability, or love.

You were careful when you leaned forward placing a soft kiss to his jaw, “I know you didn’t mean to snap. I know your buttons were pushed. I know you were stressed out and I don’t blame you at all. If I did I wouldn’t have you here with me. I don’t know how much more direct I have to be for you to see that I care about you so fucking much.”

“I don’t care about money, or yelling or any of that shit, I care about you and how you make me feel so safe because I know my strong boyfriend will beat the shit out of anyone who talks about me,” you said making your tone lighter at the end and he almost cracked a smile. He would never let anyone treat you any sort of way. That’s true.

His sore hands were holding your waist now underwater trying to pull you onto his lap. Though he’s been hit a few times in the gut, the place he was most hit was his face. His lip was pulled between his teeth, “My fighting scared you.”

“No, it didn’t,” you confessed, “What scared me is knowing that guy could do pretty much anything to you and it wouldn’t be breaking the rules.”

“I know,” he said, agreeing with you. It was getting extremely dangerous. If he gets hit in the head any more times he’ll get punch drunk before he’s 26. It’s not the fighting that’s the problem it’s where he’s doing it that is, “But as embarrassing as it is to confess to you, I need the money.”

“I understand baby, I’m not saying anything about that,” you told him honestly, running your fingers through his hair, “But it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I agree with Jin,” you told him making his brows furrow as much as they could. “If fighting is what you’re good at and you want to fight then go ahead. It shouldn’t matter what anyone thinks unless they’re here caring for you instead of putting more stress on your shoulders. I know your family doesn’t like you fighting and honestly, after tonight, I didn’t like seeing that but it’s not because I don’t support you.”

“It’s because I do, that I want you to have better opportunities in a safer, more regulated environment and not some dingy ass fight club,” you told him with a kiss to his shoulder blade, “So I think you should think about going professional. Jin and I have good connections everywhere and with the right training you can get really far. But if you really don’t want to then I won’t ask anymore.”

“You think I can do it? How am I gonna have time to train when I’ve got to make money,” Jungkook asked, suddenly thinking about it. You were a lot more convincing than Jin but maybe it’s because you’re so loving—and naked in his arms.

“I’ll help you with mon—“ “No,” and he was unconvinced, “I’m not taking handouts. I’m sorry baby but not from you. You’re my girlfriend, you’re not supposed to have to let me borrow money. I want to be able to take you out and spoil you and I can’t if—“

“It’s not a hand out, it’s your girlfriend wanting to do things for you because she really loves you and wants you to be at a point in your life when you’re not stressing over every little thing,” you told him. He shook his head, still unconvinced. He can’t. He can’t. He loves you too much to put his worries on your shoulders. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, “Besides I’m not saying you won’t be able to do it on your own, I know you can.”

“What I’m saying is that you don’t have to do it alone, and if it’s not money that you want help with that’s fine but don’t shut me out because you’re scared of relying on someone else. You’re too used to being the one dealing with your problems and everyone else’s. I want to be the one you have in your corner.”

“So I should go pro?” You nodded making his eyes dart around in thought, “I’ll still be fighting but I know now it’s because I like it.”

“Yes but you’ll be doing it as safe as can be, I don’t want you to go into a fight like this again and the guy do anything he can to get you down,” you told him and he looked up at you.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I am… I am asking for your help,” he struggled to get the words out but he did, “Because I don’t want to keep living the way I am, barely surviving and having to do dangerous things to get by. The reason why I never considered it is because I wouldn’t have the time or the money or even the support but I have you now.”

“You do,” you smiled, “And even if it doesn’t work—it will—but if it doesn’t, I’m still going to be here supporting everything you do.”

“I love you,” he blurted out looking in your eyes, “So fucking much and I’ve never felt like this for anyone else. I’m just sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Shhh,” you pressed your lips to his, “I love you too.”

You gave him a chaste kiss, “But we need you training on defense asap.” His brows furrowed as you continued, “I’m serious, you’re a good fighter but when it comes to blocking hits you suck.”

The two of you laughed lightly at that. It was true. He was a street fighter only using his fists to fight but when it comes to defending himself he’s not so quick. Hence why his face is usually the most damaged. His fingers sunk into your sides, “You gonna be my new trainer, baby?”

“Maybe, I know my way around a fight.” “Mmm, you’re gonna have to show me some moves but not in the ring.”

Your eyes rolled playfully, “Not tonight, you’re probably tired after your rounds.”

“I could still go for another round or two.”

“Are we still talking about fighting?”

::.

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a/n oooo not a boxer jk. still debating how I feel about the fic but it was fun to write

no part two but I will accept requests for drabbles of the fic

also, my blog now has a tipping option to support my writing :) I obv am not expecting any sort of payment but just added it

[ohbo-ohno]

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

[chishiyaisasnack]

Shower time

Here’s a fic that I’ve been working on for a good while now and I’m finally content with posting it. It’s sfw even though it’s a shower scene. Mostly fluff (?) and a tiiiiiny but of angst.

Disclaimer! This story is based in the Borderlands and it mentions blood, wounds and trauma from it. It’s not about how they got injured, but more so very mildly describing that they are injured. I consider it sfw but it does contain nudity since they’re taking a shower, but I’m not describing bodyparts or anything. Also, small references to sex just for humor, but there is no smut whatsoever.

Oh, and the reader doesn’t know that Chishiya is a doctor.

I’ve written and am posting on mobile so I’m sorry for any formatting issues.

”I’m going to take a shower.”

With strong steps - actually more like a wobble - you walked into your room at The Beach, Chishiya following close behind you, watching your every movement just in case you would trip over your own feet, like you already had done about 30 times since you left the game area. It had been a rough one and it had left you wounded, exhausted and a bit lethargic. Not to mention the strain it had taken on your mental state, like the games always did, but you had turned off your feelings for now and had only one goal in mind: a long, warm shower to wash off all the remnants of the game.

”No you aren’t, it can wait until tomorrow.” Chishiya sounded like he always did, bored and condescending, but you knew that there was some worry in there somewhere. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to follow you all the way back to your room, offering to catch you when you’d eventually fall.

”I feel gross. I’m covered in … stuff.” Blood. You were covered in blood. You raised your arms to make your point clearer, in case he missed what an absolute mess you were right now.

”Fine. Come on then.” Chishiya sighed, walked around you, and went towards the bathroom while you stood confused, watching him open the door and look back at you before stepping inside.

”Wait, what?” you asked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Why was he joining you?

With slow steps you followed him, wondering if he got the wrong idea. He was gorgeous, but sex was the last thing on your mind, especially shower sex. Didn’t he say that you were in no condition to even take a shower to begin with? You stopped in the doorway and waited for a response.

”You most likely have a concussion, you’re wounded and you’re exhausted. You’re going to collapse by yourself.” He turned on the shower and let the stream of water fall, waiting for it to turn hot.

”Okay, okay, doctor.” The smirk you got back confused you even more. Did he have a thing for being called ’doctor’? It wouldn’t suprise you, he was a mystery. But even him would surely have preferrences. Wait, why were you thinking about sex again?

You shook your head as you walked inside the bathroom, limping past Chishiya as he was making his way out again. Or so you thought. In the corner of your eye you saw him stretch, but it wasn’t until you turned around that you saw what he really was doing.

”Uhh, why are you taking your clothes off?” Your eyes widened as his hoodie hit the floor. He had no shame, appearantly getting naked with you without warning was completely normal in his world.

”I’m getting ready to help you when you realise that I was right. Don’t worry, I won’t join you until you ask me to. Which will be soon, so I’m preparing for that.”

You didn’t know if you should feel thankful or offended by what he said.

Chishiya however, smirked again, cocking an eyebrow at your dumbfounded look. He was enjoying this. While still looking at you he started to pull down his shorts. Your eyes were fixed on the pile of clothes he had created on the floor, which thankfully wasn’t added with more pieces since he decided to keep at least his boxers on. The daring look he had on his face when you turned your eyes back up was annoying. Did he like that you were looking at him? Not that you were looking at him like that anyway. You just wanted to take a shower. Or so you told yourself.

With his shirt and pants off he sat down on the toilet seat, turning around so that he had his back against you and the glass wall of the shower.

”Go ahead” he said, a hint of amusement hiding in his voice. ”I won’t look.”

”You better not” you huffed back at him, watching him carefully while you started to remove your own clothes, ripped apart and stained with blood. Instead of putting them in a pile you threw them straight into the trashcan. Once removed, you looked into the mirror over the sink and you almost gasped at how wounded you actually were. Cuts and bruises covered your arms, legs and back. Patches of your skin were stained red, even your face still had traces of blood left on it. You looked terrible.

Sighing, you stopped studiyng yourself and looked over your shoulder. Chishiya was still sitting with his back against you, shoulders rising and falling slow with every breath, the muscles of his back tensing when he moved. He looked soft. You wondered what he would look like wet.

No! This was not the right time to daydream about Chishiya and his pretty back, his blonde hair that fell in waves over his shoulders, those shoulders that probably would feel great to hold on to while your lips were… Oh, for fucks sake, just get in the shower y/n.

After disrupting yourself from your thoughts you made your way into the shower, closing your eyes as the water started cascading down your body. The glass wall seperating the shower and the rest of the room was conveniently half covered with frosted glass so that it covered most of your body, from your shoulders down to your knees, making you a bit less embarrassed over being naked in the same room as him. Being naked in front of someone when it wasn’t sexual wasn’t your idea of calming, and even though he had no shame, you still had. This was too intimate, too casual. But if it was what it took to take a shower then you’d do it. Even though you didn’t like to admit it you did trust Chishiya to treat you with decency and respect. He might be considered one of the people you shouldn’t trust in the borderlands, a bad person perhaps, but not bad enough to overstep someones boundaries like this.

”Let me know when you need me.” Chishiyas voice rang somewhere in the distance. Not even a ’if you need me’. He was too confident and it just made you even more stubborn. You were definitely able to take a shower by yourself, you were damned to not let him win this one, you told yourself while reaching for the soap. With unsteady hands (no, they absolutely weren’t unsteady because you were tired) you started to scrub the dirt off yourself, one part at a time. You hissed whenever you discovered a new wound you weren’t aware of and eventually the pain from it made you a bit dizzy. No, you could do this.

You clenched your jaw as you continued, slowly moving from head to toe, covering yourself with suds. Finally, everything you could see and feel was gone, so you let the stream of water fall over you once again, closing your eyes, enjoying the warmth that it gave. You felt your muscles relax, your breathing slowing down, your eyelids getting heavier…

”Chishiya…” you mumbled weakly, mad that he was right, again.

”I’m here.” A voice right behind you made you jump. You turned around and swung your fist towards him, ready to punch him out of pure panic, but he caught it before it landed on him. The borderlands had really done a number on you, you were constantly prepared for survival and appearantly even Chishiya was a victim of your anxiety. ”Calm down, it’s just me.”

”How long have you been standing there?!” You wobbled to the side as you tried to fight your bodys urge to fall onto the ground from the sudden movements. Chishiya steadied you by holding your upper arms, and helped you turn back around so that your back was facing him again.

”You moved slower and slower so I was ready when you called for me. I haven’t been standing here ogling.”

”So you have been watching me?” You didn’t even think about the fact that you probably flashed him completely just now. Well, if he saw something he didn’t care about it, which was comforting in this situation.

”Of course. I couldn’t see anything other than your head anyway. It wasn’t quite the show you think it was.” Chishiyas voice was dripping with amusement.

Once again, you didn’t know if you should be thankful or offended.

”Give me the schampoo bottle.” Chishiya asked, or rather commanded, reaching his arm out next to you so you could hand him the bottle. Once he got it you could hear him shake it before opening it and pouring out some of the liquid in his hand, followed by a low thump as he put it on the floor behind you.

Slender fingers moved over your hair, softly massaging it with his fingertips, giving you full body shivers from the way his fingers drew circles between the strands. It felt nice. Safe. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes again and just relish in the warmth radiating from his hands. He was so careful with how he touched you, slow and gentle while he worked his way through all of your hair.

A part of you wished that he would step closer so that you could feel the warmth from his body wrap around you, so that you could lean back and relax in his arms, just enjoying how your body would feel so at ease while being comforted, but you had no idea how to ask him for that without it sounding sexual.

”Shower head, please.”

You did as he asked and handed him the shower head, turning up the water pressure while doing so to make it easier for him to rinse.

”Close your eyes and bend your head backwards. Tell me if you feel dizzy.” Chishiya didn’t sound so stern this time. His words were soft and comforting, asking you to trust him. So you did.

He rinsed your hair in silence. One hand holding the shower head while the other one kept massaging your scalp, making sure to rinse out the schampoo properly. Even though you desperately tried to relax and just enjoy the feeling of being taken care of, you couldn’t stop your emotions from seeping back into your mind. Pictures of the game were flashing before your eyes. People screaming. Fighting. Lasers going off.

”Chishiya…” you whispered, no longer able to stop thinking about what had happend earlier.

”Mhmm..?”

”There was a child there tonight.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel the movements in his hands stiffen as he continued to rinse your scalp free from schampoo.

”I didn’t know that there were children here” you continued, trying to get the thoughts out of your head so you wouldn’t be tormented by them during the night. ”I thought maybe we were sent here to repent or something like that, that we were getting what we deserve. But why would a child deserve this? Even if we are all randomly sent here, without any reason behind why it’s us in particular, why would they choose a child?”

”…I don’t know.” He sounded emtpy when he answered, not that you were expecting his words to be comforting. They rarely were. There was a long pause before he spoke again. ”Did the child make it?”

”Yeah…” A shiver ran trough your body when Chishiya stopped rinsing your hair, already missing the heat from the water. Another thump came from the floor when he put the shower head down. ”Some of us worked together and protected him as much as we could.”

”Do you have conditioner?” he interrupted, sticking his hand out next to you so that you could hand it to him. You placed the bottle in his hand and watched him retrieve it. A click of the bottle cap was followed by another thump when he put it down on the ground. You wondered how many times he must’ve stared at your ass by now.

”Anyway,” you continued, shaking the image of him smirking at your butt away. ”That’s why I look like this. I took the hits for him.”

”That sounds like you.”

You hummed at his words. It was reassuring that you were considered to be a nice person, even in this hellscape.

Gentle fingers threaded through your hair again and you leaned into the touch. It went by faster this time since he didn’t need to scrub, although you wished he would keep doing this for hours. Every time he let go of you - this time to pick up the shower head again - the ache in your body took over, making you tremble ever so slightly even though the steam from the hot water was surrounding you. You were relieved when you felt the water against your back, contently closing your eyes and bending your head back into Chishiyas palm.

”I envy you sometimes.” Chishiya mumbled, so quiet that the sound of the water almost drowned it out.

”You do?”

”I wouldn’t have helped someone else if it meant that I would have to work for it, let alone get hurt from it.” Chishiya paused briefly, like he was choosing his words carefully. ”Especially not a stranger. You didn’t think twice about doing so.”

”I don’t believe that.” You cut him off before he got the chance to put himself down even more. ”You’re better than you think, Chishiya. Just look at what you’re doing for me right now.”

”I’m washing your hair, I’m not saving you from dying.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

”You don’t have to save me from death to help me. This is helping me. Besides, from the sound of your attempts to stop me from showering, I could die in here if you didn’t help me.”

”Maybe I just wanted to see you naked” Chishiya joked with such a monotone voice that anyone else would think he was serious, but you knew better. Well, if he was serious he had gotten his wish - paired with a fist coming at his face.

”Right” you snorted, too tired to laugh. A blush still crept over your cheeks, imagining his eyes on you in that way. ”Keep telling yourself that if that makes you feel better.”

”There” Chishiya ignored your answer and handed you the shower head. Cold air rushed to your skin as the water left it, leaving you almost begging for him to continue. Would it be so bad if you did?

”You can turn off the water now. I’ll get you some towels. Stay there.”

With a pout you put the shower head back into it’s place and turned off the water. Behind you, you could hear how Chishiya was gathering towels from a drawer, his footsteps making their way back over the tiled floor that would be cold and uninviting for your own feet in a second.

”Lift your arms a little.” You did as he asked and lift your arms halfway up, stopping waist high, only to see Chishiyas arms poking out from under them, holding up a towel that you thankfully grabbed a hold on and quickly wrapped around yourself to try to regain some of the warmth that the shower had given you.

”You’re safe to turn around now.”

”Thank you” you quitly replied as you gently spun around, just to be met by a still undressed Chishiya with his own towel hanging around his neck and a soft expression on his face. If you didn’t know better you would think that he was worried about you.

A smaller towel was in one of his hands - which soon landed on your head, covering your face at the same time. Your sour expression that was revealed as you peeled it off made him grin.

”Do you want help to dry it?” He asked, eyes shiny from amusement, and watched as you stubbornly started to squeeze the ends of your hair, too tired to lift your arms up and dry it completely.

”No, I’ll just put the towel over the pillow when I sleep. It’s fine” you replied, following his example and put your own towel over your shoulders. The chill in the air was starting to really get to you, and you decided that you couldn’t get to the bed fast enough. Just thinking about laying down, surrounded by warm covers, maybe even a pair of socks on your feet at first, burying your head on the pillow…

”The wounds on your back looked fine but I still need to cover some of them with bandaids. I need to examine your front too. Let me know when you’ve covered up so that I can check your arms, legs and stomach.”

Ugh, why did he have to interupt your dream about your bed with another naked request? You just wanted to sleep.

”I’m sure I’ll be fine Chishiya” you groaned back at him, slowly (and unsteadily) making your way past him and towards the bed. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, just a few more steps and you’d reach the doorhandle, that doorhandle that would open the gate and lead you straight towards the nice, warm, fluffy….

You groaned even louder when you felt a hand grip your arm, stopping your weak attempt to get out of the bathroom and keeping you still while Chishiya made his way around you so that he was facing you again. That calm face was back and you didn’t like it.

”Please, Chishiya, just let me sleep” you pleaded but to no avail.

”Come here.” You had no choice but to move after him, not being strong enough to even attempt to break loose from his grip on your arm, that was keeping you somewhat steady as you plopped one foot in front of the other until you reached the end of the bathroom. Then - lo and behold - Chishiya opened the door and led you out into the hotel room, making your way straight towards the bed. Right as he reached the foot of the bed he stopped and slowly turned the two of you around in a circle so that your back was now facing the bed, and then pushed you back so that you fell down on the soft duvet cover with a yelp. It felt like heaven to finally lay down, like a cloud was enveloping you and taking you with it to the land of dreams.

”Where are your underwear?” Chishiya once again interrupted your inner monolouge.

”Why? Wanna see them so badly even though you’ve already seen me naked?” You rolled your eyes and leaned your head to the side so that you could watch him dig around in a dresser until he grabbed the first, best pair of panties he could find and threw them at you.

”Put them on please, unless you want me to examine you naked. I’m fine with either way.”

You just huffed at him, secretly liking the playful look he was giving you. When he turned his back to you, you managed to shuffle around and get your panties on, just to let your legs fall back down onto the bed with a loud thump. God, you were exhausted.

”I’m done, doctor.” Once again, he reacted with a grin and you were now positive that he had some wierd doctor patient kink and that you were so going to make him confess that. A mission for another day.

Chishiya sat down next to your legs and reached over them to pick up a first aid kit you didn’t even know was laying next to you. Was he a wizard too?

You kept still, listening to the opening of packets, a liquid poured onto what you imagined was a cotton ball, and then your own hiss as he touched the first wound on your leg. It wasn’t the liquid that hurt, it was just the tender touch from the gauze he dabbed against your skin that hurt enough to make you wince. He must have started on a bad one.

”Try to keep still” he murmured gently, sounding like he was completely occupied with his task of tormenting you just a bit more before letting you sleep.

You stayed as still as you could, trying to concentrate on his hands and fingers working their way over your legs, dabbing it with the liquid, letting it dry, then putting a compress and some adhesive tape over it like a home made band aid. His touch was so gentle that it was barely there.

Your eyelids turned heavier with every touch of his fingertips and even though your wounds were stinging, his warm skin eased the pain afterwards and comforted you without knowing so. Before falling asleep you murmured a ”thank you.”

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of being enveloped in something warm, probably the cover that wasn’t underneath you and a soft whisper.

”You’re welcome.”