#and even right before and after the pain happens i’m literally just normal. like this random little pain i get sometimes is the only sign

[anachronistic-falsehood]

Do you have a doctor relative or enough money to go to a doctor?

i live in canada so like it’s free i could go any time at all but the problem is that i don’t feel like it’s a big enough issue to bother anyone with. if i go in there and say “hey occasionally i have weird pains that only last less than a second what is it” they’ll say “you’re probably fine, do you think it might be anxiety?” because that is ALWAYS WHAT HAPPENS

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

I’ve been dissecting Ragatha’s character with surgical tools because I am not the least bit normal about this damn doll, and something that I’ve gathered upon rewatch is how much responsibility Ragatha has been taking for Pomni’s first day. Prepare for another character analysis about everyone’s favorite confirmed girl failure

Useless Lesbian jokes aside, it’s so interesting to me how much Ragatha cares about Pomni liking her. To the point where she believes Pomni’s terrible awful no good very bad first day has some relevance to how she thinks Pomni thinks of her.

At first I thought this was just the result of her people pleasing tendencies that needs everyone to like her for her to have any degree of self worth (no I’m not projecting, shut up), but she doesn’t seem to be this pushy about getting along with anyone else.

Another possible reason for this behavior was that she just wants to make the newcomer feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible to lessen the blow of being trapped, and she’s doing such a bad job of it that it’s making her think less of herself for failing. But here she’s specifically talking about the “horrible experience” of having to deal with Kaufmo’s abstraction.

Here Ragatha is literally writhing in pain from glitching after getting her ass handed to her by Kaufmo and she briefly stops Pomni from leaving to get the help she needs to apologize to her about having a bad first day.

Honestly, Pomni’s awkward response to this was hella fitting.

Like, Jesus Christ, Ragatha. Priorities girl.

When I first watched this, I thought her little apology fell under the same category as someone apologizing for hearing bad news, (y’know like a “I’m sorry your dog died” kinda thing) said in a way to express sympathy over a bad situation. But in episode 2, it really feels like she actually blames herself for what happened.

and I think I know why.

It was Ragatha’s idea to go see Kaufmo in the first place and introduce Pomni to him. We know that she honestly believes that participating in the adventures are essential to persevering a person’s sanity. And yet she didn’t suggest to play along with the game Caine left for them. Instead, she thought it would be nice to check up on a friend who was suspiciously absent. And was, according to what Kinger told them before they left, slipping off the deep end.

I know hindsight is 20/20, but these should have been major red flags for her that Kaufmo may not have been alright and they should’ve all probably stayed away. And I think she realized that too late, which is what might’ve led to that awkward apology to Pomni in the hallway.

Kinger is right to reassure Ragatha that Pomni doesn’t blame her for what happened (which is why she thought Ragatha was being weird for apologizing in the first place), but I imagine Ragatha is the type of person who can’t help but dwell on the “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”s of life. So it makes sense that she would continue to take things personally. And I bet it got even worse after

…yeah. That.

Of course, I don’t think Ragatha could’ve known that was gonna be the outcome. But she was very wary when Pomni suggested it, loudly wondering if that was even “allowed”. But she went along with it cuz it made Pomni happy.

Whelp.

Yeah this woman’s self esteem so about to go into the negatives. Which is why I’m really hoping for a good heart-to-heart between these two. Cuz they both really need it. Ragatha especially.

I think it would really help her to know Pomni wouldn’t want her to feel like less than nothing.

[eddywoww]

I know literally all soulmate mark fics have been done (tw: scarification and abuse)

But I’m imagining one where Steve has a mark and it’s fucking huge on his forearm. It says “Are you okay?” And his mom absolutely hates it. She glares at it when it pops up when he’s only eight years old and she won’t stop talking about it, won’t let it go.

She wants it gone.

So she pays to have it lazered off. Steve hates the process, cries before and during and after because he’s only a little boy and it hurts so badly.

But it doesn’t work. The phrase only pops up somewhere new. On his ankle. It’s a little smaller but it’s the same phrase. He tries to hide it this time but it’s no use, his mom spots it at a clothes fitting. Being rich meant that he had little to no privacy growing up.

She takes him to a different place this time and the process is even worse and Steve wishes they’d get better at it. Soulmarks aren’t like tattoos. The process is much more painful even than that. And poor Steve doesn’t get why he can’t have it, why his mom doesn’t want him to have it.

He would figure out later that she only wanted to control everything aspect of his life. The next time it pops up, she gets more egregious. Wants it to be cut out of his skin. Steve sobs the night before, knows it’ll scar so much worse on the meat of his bicep. He hates it, hates that she won’t let him have this and he just doesn’t understand. He keeps hoping it’ll show up somewhere she won’t find it.

After many failed tries, it finally does.

Steve almost doesn’t believe it when he finds the phrase, as tiny as possible, on the sole of his foot. He hides it. He wears socks, he tries his best to make sure his mom never sees it. He spends his teenage years trying harder and harder to get away from her. Stealing and saving money, making sure she can’t keep him locked away anymore.

Steve runs away eventually. Ends up going to college and buying goodwill furniture and getting a part time job and-

But it’s rough because he’s always been sort of shut in. A pretty ornament for his mom to show off at parties and galas. He didn’t spend much time around other kids. So school makes him nervous. Anxious to a startling degree.

It happens on a normal Tuesday. He’s in the campus lunchroom, a tray in hand. It’s shaking, his drink nearly spilling as he tries to make his way through the moving mass of students. It’s too much, all his senses firing at one hundred or more.

And then it happens. He almost drops the tray as someone bumps into him, only to grab Steve by the elbows, turning big brown eyes and curly hair toward him. A boy. A very attractive, apologetic looking boy.

Steve was mesmerized before he even opened his mouth.

“Are you okay?” The boy asks in shock. “I didn’t mean to almost knock you down, man. That’s my bad.”

Steve stares at him like he’s just seen the sun for the first time.

“I like your hair,” He says, because he can’t think of anything else to say and he really does.

Eddie Munson nearly drops him a second time. Just behind his ear, he too wears a phrase. Unscarred and unmarked. He has no problem showing it to Steve right there in their busy campus lunchroom.

“I like your hair.”

Eddie might be without Steve’s scars but he has some of his own. A life well lived, not very far from Steve. They don’t lament over lost time. After all, it was meant to be.

[star-girl69]

protective clarisse save me ANWAYSSSS enjoy

*mentions of clarisse picking reader up and carrying her around

PLEASE ignore the fact i forgot ambrosia existed thanks 🙏🙏 yk i just be saying stuff

it starts out like any capture the flag game

except for the fact you’re on different teams

like in so it goes when clar tells y/n “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”

everyone once in a while the teams switch up

and clarisse has a really hard time when you’re not on the same team, but she can usually function

she’s worried out of her mind obvi

we all know you’re her achilles heel

but for some reason this time clarisse just has a really bad feeling

she’ll probably threaten everyone on her team- if they so much as LOOK at you in the wrong way she’s going to make their lives a literal hell

and everyone is like ok scary lady 🫡

they all know clarisse don’t play about you

so the game is going pretty normal

you’re just doing your thing and clarisse is hunting around you

it’s really funny because you and a few of your siblings are just fighting whoever makes their way to you

and you win every time

bc clarisse is still letting you win 😭😭😭😭

the good members of her team get told to turn around

and then she lets the weaker ones, the stragglers she doesn’t care about, pass through and then smiles when you cheer after winning even tho she can’t see you

you feel her eyes on you tho sometimes it’s kinda creepy

but basically annabeth and the blue team had set up these trenches in random parts of the wood

they were lined with like a bunch of leaves and spare linens so they were soft at the bottom

but someone 🙄🙄🙄 ugh

forgot to soften up one of them and that’s the one you fall into

she hears you scream and she’s like WOAH HOLY FUCK

running through the woods you’re crying at the bottom of this 6 ft deep hole your siblings are screaming

like she literally throws herself to the ground and drags you out of the pit pure adrenaline

and like she could tell just by your screams and the look on your face that you were HURT HURT

but she knows you need her rn so she pulls you into her lap and asks what hurts

and you can’t even speak you’re in so much pain but you gesture to your leg and maybe clarisse just didn’t want to notice it before but like that bitch is BROKEN

she’s literally shaking

“it’s okay it’s okay baby it’s okay someone is gonna go get a healer right? SOMEONE IS GOING TO GO GET A HEALER, RIGHT?”

*cue like 10 random campers all running off*

and you’re screaming and crying and your siblings are freaking out so the game kinda stops bc everyone is like what happened 😭

then they just walk into this clearing and see you pale and crying and leg obviously broken, sitting in a shaking clarisse’s lap

one of her siblings definitely has to come over and subtly say that she’s like doing a good job LMAO

bc she is STRUGGLING

like she’s never been so scared in her life

her heart is pounding her hands are shaking

but for the first time in her life she’s not really angry right now

she’s just fucking terrified

and she HATES it

she’s stroking your hair and has her arm wrapped around your waist so tight

she tells you “just dig your nails into my arm”

and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on so she grabs your hands and let’s you squeeze so hard she swears her fingers come out a little crooked

FINALLY some apollo kids come over with a stretcher

so then she starts yelling at them “BE GENTLER SHES HURT DUMBFUCKS”

then finally after clarisse’s incessant screaming she holds your hand as they take you back to the healers

then 20 minutes later they reset your leg and put it in a little cast and give you some AMAZING painkillers

so you’re like omg

clarisse is like pale and sweaty and her heartbeat is so erratic one of the healers actually has to come over and be like “maybe you should sit down and get checked out..?”

she starts screaming at them

then you’re like “omg no my saviors are fighting ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

“no no i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make you sad it’s fine it’s fine we’re not fighting”

“yay!!!!!!!”

she has to lay down in your bed and take some really deep breaths in order to calm down

and you’re just happy bc you are floating and you have your gf with you

you’re babbling on about something and clarisse is like wtf is happening to me

but also she’s acting like you just died

holding your head to her chest and staring off into the distance like that one painting of ivan the terrible holding his dead son y’all know

and you’re just happy

she’s kissing all over your face and head and telling you about how she’s gonna help you

“i’ll carry you whenever you don’t feel like using your crutches, i’ll make sure you take all your medicine, i’ll find and kill whoever did this to you, i’ll sleep with you every night just in case, and i won’t let you out of my sight ever again, and i’ll make chiron switch the teams back”

she ends up doing all of those things obvi

she annoys chiron so much he makes a permanent rule that the ares and your cabin always have to be on the same team

clarisse becomes 10x worse in terms of protectiveness

like she’s watching you like a HAWK

she just felt so totally helpless in that moment so unprepared and she never wants to feel like that again

she doesn’t think her heart can take it actually 😭

she does find the person and loses dessert privileges for 5 months for what she did!!!!!

she sleeps with you ever night bc the meds make you sleep restlessly and she’s always there to whisper in your ear and lull you back to sleep

even if you’re like oh i can just use my crutches she’s always staring at the ground like it’s a monster that’s gonna hurt you so she’s like

“hm well i don’t think so actually haha just let me carry you”

“I WANT TO WALK CLARISSE”

*picking you up* “no it’s fine this is safest”

“LET ME DOWN”

basically you’re just the love of her life and she can’t imagine something else happening to you

[kmuradesu]

Car baby

DadHusband!SimonRiley x PregnantWife!Reader (afab)

Summary: A couple days after your due date, your water broke but you persisted to stay at home while you had the opportunity to - even though Simon hated the idea. And because of that, you are now having the baby. On the way to the hospital.

———————

word count: around 1.2k

cw: pregnancy, depictions of intense pain - a little blood, bad language, dangerous driving, car birth.

———————

sorry if they’re spelling mistakes, i didn’t go through it properly properly. kinda lost it at the end, but enjoy !

“Hold on— bloody hell, woman.”

One minute you were trying to rest on the settee with a warm tea in your grasp. And the next, you were hunched over mumbling in pain. The tea had jolted from your hand and split over the carpet.

“..fuuck!” Your voice a sharp groan as his arms quickly found way under your own.

“We should’ve gone to the hospital..” No, he wasn’t scolding you but Simon was a little irritated at the fact your persistence had come to this. In labour in your own home, which wasn’t that ideal.

A wavering whimper left your lips, your fingers curling tightly into his muscle as he gently lifted your pregnant body up.

“Lovie, s’alright just hold onto me. And breathe.”

“Isn’t breathing what I’m doing?!”

“Not exactly, more like whinin’ your guts out.”

The burly man took most of your weight, leading you quickly to the car that sat outside on the drive with duffel bags already stocked for the trip. But it shocked you to think it was all happening now.

Simon didn’t even think to put a towel down before seating you in the car, but everything was going on at a rapid pace he had forgotten.

Once you were sat he did the seatbelt for you before closing the door and rushing to the driver’s side.

“We’ll get to the hospital. All will be fine ‘oney.”

As if he wasn’t shitting his pants right there and then.

Getting in the car, it didn’t take long for you to be pushed back into your seat by an invisible force. It kinda took the breath out of you.

But so was the baby that was literally about to pop out.

“Shit— I know we’re in a rush-” Your voice strained, followed by your brows knitting together. “But slow down!”

Of course Simon didn’t listen. However he did look back and forth at your rounded stomach quite a couple of times. The last thing you would’ve wanted right now was to be caught in an accident.

A harsher surge of pain had swept through your back and lower stomach all the way to the disc of your spine, causing you to choke on a loose sob as your hand took a vice-like grip on Simon’s arm. He cursed something under your moans.

He focused on trying to get there safely, but on a condition that he could cut down on minutes.

As cars swerved out of the way of your oncoming vehicle, which was not going to stop, you held onto him for dear life. Pretty sure there’s bound to be a bruise on his bicep after this.

“Simon, I think I’m bleeding!”

Your cry of words is what snapped 3 quarters of his attention to you. The poor man’s head was on a swivel, returning between both you and the road.

He stuck his hand out and placed it on your bare thigh.

“Hell- is that normal?!”

“I don’t think so!” Your pained moans were swapped with pained cries.

It was making Simon feel sick. Not because you were bleeding, no, but because of the immense pain you were feeling and not being able to do a thing about it apart from reassure you.

A soft hand of yours snaked down below your pants.

Touch.

Take out.

Red. A lot of red.

God the sight could’ve made both you and Simon faint.

“Christ.” A mutter under his cold breath.

He rubbed his toughened hand up and down your thigh, adding pressure as he steered with the other.

“Don’t worry love, we’re pulling over..”

————

Your cries of agony were deafening over the hushed woman’s voice of an ambulance emergency operator. It was almost embarrassing, but fairs to you, a newborn was making itself known.

Simon was on your side out of the car, listening to what the woman was telling him to do.

‘Have you got towels?’

“Uh yes, in the back.”

‘Use those for the baby when it’s out.’

“..alright.”

‘Is this her first?’

“Yes—”

Another one of your screams. But it seemed to have supported her next instruction.

‘When you are pushing honey, you need to push for 6 seconds, then take a 10 second breather okay?’

“..okay.” The word wobbled from your lips.

Simon took your hand and placed another on your bent knee. Props to you, you were doing this without a damn epidural.

There was blood literally everywhere, all down your thighs and hands, even on Simon. But he really couldn’t care less.

Your grip tightened as you pushed, feeling the sharp tense radiate through your core as you felt tension building up.

“..keep pushing love.” Simon grunted uneasily, wincing a little at the deathly grip of your hand interlocked with his. “Fuck that’s hard—”

‘Breathe 10 seconds..’

‘Then push again.’

God, you were pushing and pushing. If only tough Simon could experience this, my, would it be brilliant.

As you pushed you felt the tight head of the baby force itself out, followed by a sense of relief and loose pressure.

“The heads out!..” Simon said in quite excited tone, pulling a wonky confused face from you. But it was nice to see Simon show such enthusiasm.

‘Good. Just keep pushing mama, the baby’ll be out in no time.’

All that was coming out of your mouth was just endless cries of pain and weakened mumbles of suffering. It was making Simon feel ill again.

“..jesus— the shoulders on this thing—ah!”

..‘this thing’ was the baby.

“Just the shoulders.. and the baby will be out. Alright lovie?” He kissed you on the head.

You gave a loose nod, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, and tears staining your peachy cheeks that were washed away with Simon’s thumb.

He then got towels, as the operator had told him to, ready to catch the baby when it slips out. You couldn’t help but feel a little violated of your space, but the man’s seen it all before sooo.

You pushed, along with the woman’s voice through the phone on the dashboard and Simon’s little but effective encouragement. Christ, the tension was too powerful, were you tearing or something?

But it wasn’t too long, before it felt like you had been emptied from the inside out. The relief.

“It’s out— the baby’s out!” Simon called, a small smile plastered along his face. That was something you almost never saw in a while. Sarcasm by the way.

‘Put it bare on the mother’s chest, pat its back until you hear a cry.’

He did as he was told and used the towel to gently place the baby on the unclothed part of your chest, his brows furrowing a little at the fact that for it to be alive, it needed to cry.

Your shaky hand was a bit late to lightly pat the newborn, Simon was already getting to it, but you felt so weak at the moment it was almost unbearable.

“Breathe baby. Breathe.”

The man whispered.

To you or the baby?

The silence was awfully mute, a high pitched ringing the only thing loud in your ears apart from Simon’s bated breath.

A cry.

The breaths everyone had been holding were blown as the baby announced itself to the three of you. Simon dryly chuckled. You swear you heard the operator chuckle too.

‘Congratulations Mum and Dad. Is it a boy or a girl?’

Simon’s eyes laid softly on you with your newborn, a hand on his child, and the other on your meaty thigh.

“A girl.” He said with a small smirk, kissing you again on the forehead as you looked dazed.

‘How’s the Mum?’ Worn out. Exhausted. Little light-headed. Icky. Nauseated.

“..I’m fine. I think.”

You thought it was better just to act.. okay. Although to Simon, it was obvious that you needed space, and possible to be checked over my doctors. Your bronzed gaze looked down at the pair of lidded eyes on your chest.

‘That’s good. The ambulance is nearly there to take you all to the hospital, for them to take a look at you and the baby.’

A tired sigh left your lips, your eyes heavy as your hand rested on the wailing newborn.

“..you did bloody brilliant.” The man reassured, his hand brushing away sticky strands of hair from your forehead.

Your look returned to him, searching for something in his eyes before he pecked your lips with a small kiss.

Damn. You just had a baby.

[prael]

Trouble

male reader x NMIXX Haewon Masterlist

5.5k words [commissioned work]

this is a follow-up to studious

There’s this thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

Haewon is most certainly trouble. The best kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that, while you know the possible consequences, she makes it all worth it. Anyone could have walked in on her riding you in that classroom, but at the time, you couldn’t have cared less.

***

Not a week later, you find yourself staring down trouble once again. What should have been a normal day at the beach with your friends became a chance encounter with the person you somehow wanted to see both the most and the least right now. 

There’s no denying the perks—some of them you spent the past hour admiring. But you can’t shake off the fear that she’s about to cause a scene. After all, you still haven’t found the right words to text her since that evening. Luckily, you had done a successful job of avoiding her until now.

As each minute of the past hour had passed, the tension seemed only to build as you waited for the girl sat only a few meters ahead of you to cause a scene. Your friends passed through a series of conversations you don’t really recall amidst the distraction. There was something about classes, someone’s brother, oh, and a brief mention of the rumour of two unnamed students getting it on in Mr Choi’s classroom—avoiding that conversation was for the best.

Haewon continues rotating through her repetitions. Picking up her phone and scrolling through social media for a while. Taking a drink from her bottle, with her usual habit of taking one small sip before a mouthful. And occasionally taking a short walk around.

You shouldn’t care, but you do. You can’t fight the frustration that she hasn’t spoken to you yet. Yes, you dread her confronting you, but it can’t be worse than being left in the cold. Not even a smile or a customary glance in your direction. It’s inconceivable that she simply hasn’t noticed you. Not even moments ago, she strutted right by where you are sitting. Her short jean shorts sitting at the very top of her thigh passed at eye level. Each step was accompanied by a sway of her hips and a ripple sent down her thighs.

Fuck. Just thinking about it again made your own shorts uncomfortable. Again.

It’s impossible to look away. Haewon has returned to relaxing on her lounger now. Although it looks like she changed the angle of it now and suddenly, as she sits with one leg outstretched and the other bent slightly, she gives you a perfect show.

It could all be a coincidence. Maybe she really hasn’t noticed you. She just happened to walk right by you, she just happened to adjust the angle of her lounger.

However, there is one thing you can be sure of with Haewon; everything she does has a purpose. 

You plant your feet into the burning sand and immediately pull them back, recoiling in pain. Better put your sliders on first, idiot. The way Haewon messed with your mind is dangerous, literally.

Aimlessly walking. Salty sea breeze against your face and through your hair. Uneasy footing on the soft sand. Eyes wandering. Down the length of the beach, then out to sea. The crashing waves—rhythmic chaos.

Contrasting the other chaos—that which has no rhythm and is completely unpredictable. That which is right behind you, her strides just a little longer than your own, closing the distance by which she tails you. You couldn’t even get a minute without this woman in your mind today.

“Need a moment to yourself?” It wasn’t a real question, nor an offer to give you one. Moreso a taunt from the lips of Haewon as she places herself by your side. 

“I’m just going to, um…” You look ahead and spot the public bathroom, which you are getting close to walking by. “The bathroom.”

“No… You’re just walking away because staring at me for the past hour is getting you a little hot under the collar.”

Haewon has a read on you like no other, and it’s far too uncomfortable. You don’t have a response to her unexpected intuition, instead choosing to grunt and continue walking, picking up the pace a little. 

Haewon catches up to you with a little skip in her step. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m sure no one noticed you getting hard. Putting your bag on your lap really helped cover it up.”

With sarcasm in her tone, she mocks you.

You take a moment to swallow that lump in your throat before replying, “that’s not what happened. I just wanted to—”

“Please. You’re going to pretend you haven’t been staring at me for the past hour?” 

“No—”

“So, someone else?” Haewon cuts you off again. “It’s that why you never texted me? You must be some kind of player.”

“There’s no one else, Haewon.”

“I knew it was me.”

She’s good. It’s like a chess game, and she’s moving all the right pieces—always putting you in check. There’s no surprise, though; it’s what she does. It’s what she has done to you before—the note in your locker, the timing, the place, her confident words.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet now, Haewon.” You turn away and divert into the thankfully empty single public toilet. You didn’t even need to use it, but it’s impossible to be played if you take all your pieces off the board.

You open the door and slip inside, not looking back at the girl you left on the sand. You pull the door closed behind you but come to a sudden stop when an arm reaches into the gap and stops you. Haewon’s head flicks left and right, scanning the immediate area, her shiny brunette locks flowing as they’re thrown side-to-side.

She slips into the small room with you, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock. Haewon hesitates to turn around, still facing the door. Silence fills the room for a few seconds, and you can’t help but explore her body with your eyes. Following her flowing hair down to her white crop top. One that you mentally praise heavily for the way it reveals her lower back. 

Head cocked back. Shoulders shifting. Her chest heaves as she forcefully expels a full breath. 

Haewon spins. Her back against the door. Palms open against it too. And behind the loose locks on her face are eyes shining with intent.

Maybe she feels like she’s winning—or already won. This could be checkmate and all that’s left is for you to knock over your king and concede. But you know the truth, and the sense of accomplishment can’t help but force a smile onto your lips. All the avoidance, the refusal to text her, and the distant admiring. The acting like the fool—the flustered young man—who dipped into a bathroom to escape her. Perfect bait.

Haewon steps away from the wall and moves a little closer to you. Okay, maybe all your avoidance wasn’t acting—she does have a way of throwing you off kilter—but at least some of it was. Now locked in this room with Haewon, the result couldn’t have been closer to what you wanted.

Last time it was all her plan. Actions she set in motion and entirely dictated.

However, now as Haewon pushes her slim fingers under the hem of her top and pulls it slowly overhead, she does so on neutral ground. Ground that gratefully accepts the item of clothing as she drops her shirt to the floor.

Your smile becomes a grin as you admire what she revealed. It’s almost a talent in its own right how she had perfectly constructed the scene under her top. She picked a piece of lingerie that was designed with a sole purpose; to show as much as possible without showing everything. The smallest patch of lace possible is placed directly over the nipple, and that was it bar the straps. Cleavage. Side-boob. Under-boob. The whole fucking boob on show.

Haewon takes another step forward. There are maybe two more until she’s up against you, and she seems intent on making each one count. Haewon slips her thumbs under the waistband of her short—really short—shorts.

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare.

Another test.

One of many where she thinks the only acceptable answer is silent awe. 

“Don’t stop.” Contradictory. Stern. Not a voice, in tone or content, that you’ve used with Haewon before.

Could be that, given the headstrong young woman she is, she hides it well, but your answer doesn’t break her composure and she forces her shorts away from her hips, letting them hit the floor in a similar fashion to her top. 

Although she has no smart remark to return, her actions do the talking as her structured performance continues. Another step, her hands snaking behind her back toward the clasp of her bra. As she plants her left foot, she pops it open—the fabric giving way to the two bundles beneath. Haewon brings her hands to her side, allowing the bra to fall from her body. It lands atop her shorts, still attached to her back foot. With one swift flick, both her shorts and her bra are sent into the corner of the room.

"You should smile like that more." 

Unknowingly, unwittingly, Haewon’s exposed body has drawn a smile across your face. You catch yourself and attempt to rein it in a little. However, it's easier said than done while you admire her porcelain skin, which looks so soft to the touch. The line of her waist and how her underwear perfectly accentuates the curve of her hips. And how her two perfect tits still held a perky fullness—looking like a perfect match for the cupped palm of your hands.

Haewon continues, “As much as I appreciate the brewing mystery behind your often blank face, that confident smile is much more exciting. It’s much more you.”

It was sudden, then. Caught off balance, even with your natural charm and wit—the initiative was never yours to take. But Haewon’s right. This time you’re honing in on something. Unearthing a side to you which can take the lead with confidence and a smile. A worthy opponent to her bravado.

"Then keep giving me reasons to smile."

"I'm giving you a reason to do a lot more right now." Haewon reaches out, places her hands on your shoulders and then runs one of them down to your chest. Her soft tones and slow movement contrast how she digs her nails into your skin through your shirt.

She's right. And it's outright foolish to even still be clothed right now. It's easily fixed. You pull the hem of your shirt upwards, and Haewon raises her hands to let it go by before planting them down—now against your bare skin.

"Better," Haewon whispers as she runs her eyes down your upper body. “Now. How about I…” She lets the words roll slowly off her tongue as she buckles one knee and slowly falls to the other.

“Wait.” Determined to have your own say on the pace of this encounter, you halt Haewon. A word accompanied by a hand wrapped around her nape. You pull back as you lean forward, taking her heart-shaped lips with your own. Capturing them with audible assertion, you engage her with gumption. It only lasts a moment before Haewon twists free and captures her breath. 

Inches apart, yet connected by a fine silk string of saliva. Lips not touching but still kissed with the heat of each other’s breath. Her eyes holding you in a grasp that her hands couldn’t manage. There’s no guarantee. This could be one of many times, or it could never happen again, so you can forgive yourself for enjoying the heat of this moment for a little.

“No more waiting,” Haewon snaps. Keeping her waiting almost feels criminal—though that’s nothing compared to what will come next.

She slips your grasp and retakes hold of the wheel, driving her way inside your shorts. In the blink of an eye, they’re by your ankles, and her delicate touch meets your delicate parts. Her fingers find their way over every part of your growing cock. She tickles, pulls, tugs and rolls it around in her touch.

“I missed this,” Haewon says under hot breath as she pulls her hands away, admiring your length with only her eyes.

“I missed you,” you confess. And not a word of a lie. How could anyone not miss this pretty girl with her perfect touch?

“Really?” Her expression half one of happiness and half unsure of your honesty.

“Really.” Your answer triggers Haewon’s next move. She positions herself dangerously close to your semi-erect cock, such that each breath kisses it with heat and forces a small twitch. With parted lips, Haewon’s tongue slips from her mouth and hooks it underneath the tip. But she doesn’t rest on her laurels, instead, she pulls her head upwards, her tongue lifting your cock upwards. She holds it there for a second, suspended in the air.

Haewon presses forwards, pursing her lips into a snug fit for the head of your cock. Retracting her tongue to guide you into her. It’s a swift move, one of elegance and precision that ends with most of your cock nestled into her mouth.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that her tongue has done its job, got you where you needed to be and then would take a rest. Alas, it simply begins the second part of its performance. It slides. It swirls. It wraps around your cock in patterns that seemed impossible. You glance down, Haewon has her eyes closed in pure concentration. 

She’s giving her everything, her whole fucking soul to one thing—

Your pleasure. 

What could be a minute—or could be more—passes. Time is a concept beyond your current comprehension. The whole world could be in reverse right now and Haewon’s swirling tongue would make you none the wiser. 

Haewon’s cheeks hollow as she sucks hard on your dick, accompanied by a backward movement of her head. With just her mouth, she pulls your hips forward until you’re forced to pull back to maintain balance. What went in is nothing compared to what came out. Haewon wipes away the spit running from her lips and admires it. Your cock stands stiff, smothered and dripping with saliva that reflects the light above.

“I really fucking missed it,” Haewon says, wrapping her hand around the shaft. “I need it.” She gives you every reason to be confident in yourself, and given how fixated her eyes are; you have every reason to believe her.

“What about you?” Haewon continues. “Did you miss this?”

Haewon keeps hold of you for balance, throwing her other hand behind her head and leaning backwards. Her knees on the floor, legs slightly open, with her thighs pressing down against her calves, accentuating their softness. 

"I really fucking missed it. I need it," You copy her, word for word, with the same playful tone.

“Of course you did. That’s so obvious.” Haewon speaks as she climbs to her feet. “So when are you going to stop fucking around?” 

With a wave of hair washing over your face, Haewon spins and steps back into you, then nestles her head back into your shoulder and her ass against your bare crotch.

“Do I have to keep throwing myself at you or are you going to take me?” She brings her hand to her face while she speaks and once she stops, drops a pool of saliva into her palm. 

“You’re such a red flag, Haewon.”

“That so?" She pauses for a moment to allow a pool of saliva to fall from her lips into the palm of her hand. "I guess I see it.” Haewon continues a conversation in parallel, yet unrelated, to her actions. Her hand finds your length again, adding to the copious fluids before placing it between her plump cheeks where just a thin piece of fabric prevents a happy accident. “What kind of girl just throws herself at someone in a classroom, then follows him into a toilet, right? What, do you think I do this to everyone?”

“I don’t know what to think, and that’s the red flag. What happened to a nice dinner and getting to know eachother?” 

She’s pushing down on your hips, making you lower your body, your cock sliding down against her pants until you go low enough for it to slip between her legs. A small nudge back and you’re stuck. Trapped on three sides, the tops of her thighs on either side and the sticky warmth in her underwear above.

“I think we're a little bit past that already, this is the real test of chemistry. Why waste time at dinner if you’re just going to disappoint after?”

“So that’s what this is, an evaluation? Should I expect a score after?” The words are difficult to force past your throat when your breath is hitching. All because she’s rocking now, with her hips. Slowly backwards before snapping forward again. Engulfed in her soft flesh, there’s a gentle pressure on your cock. Enabled by her spit, you are parting her thighs and pressing against her warmth each time she sets back.

“Satisfactory.” Blunt. Almost offensive. Effective. A challenge has been set. Haewon twists her neck, peering over her shoulder.

“Satisfactory?”

“What, you’re going to get all upset now?” Haewon grins and picks up her pace, sliding her pillowy thighs over your cock, and throwing her body against yours. The thin film of sweat on her back is a little sticky against your chest.

“Not exactly.” You bring your hands into the action, a firm grip on one of her hips, burying your fingers into her flesh and the other guiding your arm around her upper body—pacifying her movements. You unbend your knees and un-sink your hips.

You continue, “why don’t you tell me what it takes to excel?” All the while pushing yourself away from the wall, and you guide Haewon forward before directing her to the right-hand wall. You manipulate her like a puppet suspended from strings—if the strings were your arms and your stiff cock jammed against her soaked panties.

“I like someone who knows when to take—” Haewon is cut off as she braces herself for a collision against the sink and the mirror behind it. 

“—control.”

With a hand in the centre of her back, you create momentary separation. Enough to slide down to your knees. You face her milky ass, divided in the middle by jet-black fabric. It’s mostly easy to slide the soft lace away from her hips and down her legs. The bit between her legs is the last to give way, the sticky mix of her wet pussy and your saliva needing it to be peeled away from her smoothly-shaven skin.

“And?” you ask, looking up and her glistening eyes, which yet again peer over her shoulder.

“Someone who knows what they want and how to take it.” You know exactly what you want. It’s destiny. Destiny is a funny name for the lips of her cunt peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs.

"Ah!" Haewon yelps as her glistening, fair skin accepts you—engulfs you—as you dive face-first into her. A hold on her hips enables you to dig deeper, propelling your mouth toward her delectable pussy. You'll make her wait for your verbal response as your mouth gets to work, lapping up any moisture you can find on her plump lips. 

"F-fffuck." Haewon curses under her breath as your tongue pierces into the tight folds of her cunt. Her thick thighs and voluminous ass don't make it easy on you to bury your tongue into her. An impossible combination of firm and soft which would send any man into spiralling wonderment.

Haewon fights. Struggles. Doing so verbally. Uttering instructions which fall upon deaf ears. Physically. Reaching out behind her in desperate attempts to grasp your hair. Each time she has a hold, there’s a moment of pain before another wave of pleasure numbs her grip, and her digits fall helplessly through your locks.

It's clear that she's scrambling for answers, for as much as she baited—even gaslit—this response from you, she didn't really expect it. Not like this. Maybe in a way that she could easily wrestle back control. But likely not in a way that would result in her being subdued against a sink. 

Yet here you are. With hands exploring all the parts of her body you fantasise about. Eating her cunt with ravenous intent. You're giving her your all. Really fucking giving her it. 

Looking up past her plump cheeks that fill most of your vision, the result is clear to see. Long gone is the fight, the resistance, even that intense stare she gave you. Her arms don't reach for you but instead look to support her trembling body. Her head is thrown forward as it spills out utter gibberish via her mouth. Half-words and full-truths. You're so good. You manage to piece that one together from the three attempts she took at it. 

Pointless words really. All the vindication you need runs from your chin and drips to the tiled floor.

Time stood still, or it sped up—one of them. Either way, the concept of linearity is lost on you. Lost somewhere in the time you spent eating her cunt. Lost somewhere among the myriad of curves her body presents, admired with a caress of your gaze and rhythmic touch.

It's both a vindication of your efforts and a desperate plea for more, the way she uses her hands on the wall, the mirror, the sink, and anything she can grab to force herself back against your mouth. She's absolutely insatiable, but, so are you.

A moment later and you’re back up to your feet, prying Haewon from the sink and twisting her, so her shoulders press against the wall. Your body pressed against hers. Lips pressed against another pair, your face soaked in liquid does nothing to prevent Haewon from kissing you. She looks different now. Bright red and flustered, the heat radiating from her face burns at your cheeks like you got a little too close to a fire. 

Somewhere shuffled into a series of kisses are Haewon’s breathy words, “I’m going to fuck you now.” followed by a push on your shoulders, planting you against the wall. While Haewon wraps her arms over your shoulders and around your neck, her legs around your hips and to your back, your mind calls back her earlier words. Someone who knows what they want, and how to take it.

Haewon clings to you. Your frame is her only support, with both your hands on her ass, holding her just one swift movement away from your cock. She said she was going to fuck you, and she is trying. Really fucking trying. But it’s about what you want, and how you take it.

“No, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you now.”

Another moment passes and the pendulum swings again in your favour. She has nothing to fight back with and you easily propel yourself away from the wall and send the two of you crashing into the wall opposite, narrowly missing the hand dryer and thankfully doing no damage to the mirror you plant her against. You figure that it's inevitable, that you'll pay in some form for today's actions, but a fine for damaging a public restroom is at the bottom of the preferred list.

"Tell me Haewon, who's going to fuck who?" you query, but it's rhetorical. You aren't open to negotiation or delay. You take ownership of the moment, pressing yourself up against her. Your face buried in the crook of her neck, licking along her chin and grinding your body against hers. With an arm wrapped around her waist, you pull her close, feeling the warmth from her bare cunt against your thigh. Your lips quickly find hers and you take her in a brief but passionate kiss, then her neck again—ravaging what skin she has exposed with kisses, nibbles, and licks, driving her wild as she grinds against your leg.

"Look at you, Haewon. I'm gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" She can't answer, she's already so overwhelmed, so you continue, "I need to hear you say it," you mumble to her between kisses.

"Y-yes," she barely croaks out. "F-fuck me..."

And that was your cue. There's a certain energy surging through your veins as you practically pry Haewon from the wall. Legs still hooked around your waist, arms thrown over your shoulders, forehead to forehead. With your own strength and aid from gravity, she sinks.

As does your cock. Inside her warm cunt. Wrapped in the tightness, feeling her warmth surround you. Haewon leans her head back, pressing her head against the wall and exposing her neck to you, which you use as an invitation to assault with your tongue and your teeth. You start slowly thrusting upwards into her, forcing small thrusts, each one pushing your body up onto the tips of your toes before settling again. Each forward push causing her body to tense, back arching into your chest.

"G-g-god," is about all you get from Haewon while her face rolls forward, eyelids fluttering open for a moment. Hair now a tangled mess across her face, her lips remain parted. The breaths she lets out through them are hot, dry, and barely audible.

Rather than allow the wave of pleasure rolling down her body to subside, you pick up the pace. Feet almost stomping up into her now. Her head is empty, save for a few select words; my cunt, your dick, so big, fuck me, and finally, the all-too-expected, why'd you stop?

While moments before you were doing all the work and she was little more than a fleshlight hooked on your waist, you want more. Re-situating yourself, slipping an arm under her left leg, so it lays in the crux of your elbow. And the same with the right. It doesn't take long to step away from the wall, the added support from your arms ensuring she doesn't fall to the floor. But now the power really is in your hands and you pivot the two of you around.

On this edge, Haewon is both your burden and your liberation. Feet adjusting on the floor and back sliding against the slick tiles, an arm on the sink and a hand digging itself against your shoulder. Dangling from your lap, thrusting wildly against her pussy. Squeezing your cock.

A silent taunt, a threat, a promise.

Any of the above, or all of the above. It doesn't matter which one, what matters is how you feel.

Feeling words can't describe—well, words probably can, but you're incapable of stringing them together right now. With a grip like steel on the soft padding of her ass, you whisper, "gonna make you cum."

"I can't—not like this."

You don't take the bait. You never did, and you never will. Always something she needs, always something you have to put in or give up. Fuck that. It's your time to put all the effort in and pull some satisfaction out of her.

"Like this," you say sternly and she shoots you a look and you fire one right back.

Haewon bites her lip, then her body slackens, her arms relax, and the tension dissipates. A nod for you to proceed as you wish. Which you will.

You grip her, hands clasped behind her back. Haewon reaches out, a hand on the sink, a forearm on the dryer. It's far from elegant but it's damn sure effective as you redden her thighs with the rhythmic slap of your hips.

Her moans are stifled by the drool pooling down her chin as her eyes roll backwards. Climactic gurgles and pained breaths fill the room, which is only half covered by the rush of water from the sink's faucet. Somehow, someway, Haewon's helplessly suspended foot had hit it. Not that either of you care.

"Cum for me." Your hips show her no mercy as you slow and hold each thrust with deliberate depth. With every inch you have to offer penetrating her sweet cunt as your final bid to achieve victory in this battle of wills.

"Ugh! Fuck!"

You didn't think she could tighten any more, but she does. As a shudder washes down her body from head to toe, Haewon lets loose, coating your cock with fluid as she goes limp in your grasp. With her still in your arms, you sink, bringing her down with you. Your bare ass hits the tiled floor and it bucks your hips into her still-tense cunt. The friction of her hot, soaked inner walls rubbing up against your length causes a low groan to erupt from you.

There's a short span, a transient moment, where the two of you are just there. Quiet. Close. Eye-to-eye. Both are naked and one still coming down from a high while the other is still on the cusp of achieving it. Both are completely vulnerable, no cover or modesty. Just flesh and her impending words.

Your silence prompts her.

"W-what about you?"

"What about me?" You answer with a question, a smirk on your lips as you feel her loosening her tight grip on your cock.

"Ugh, do I have to tell you to cum?"

"Don't worry, Haewon." Your assurance has little weight behind it. It's a preface. A statement, yet unfinished. Your eyes stare longingly at her. A well-placed pause allows your mind to linger on the lusty gaze, parted lips, and complete ease with the proximity. It's a moment worth taking advantage of and savouring. And that's just what you do. You let time tick past a second. Another. Another. And then it's a sentence completed as you finish with the actual words, "I was going to cum whether you tell me or not."

Another sudden move. Pushing your thighs upward, so her rear is supported, and a firm grip on her shoulders pulls her face towards yours. She gets it. Or at least she complies enough to lift herself a little and free your stiff cock. You hold her in a kiss as she takes hold of your cock. Haewon firmly squeezes you in her palm and begins to stroke, almost clinically as she concentrates fully. Her wetness lubricated your shaft. She doesn't linger. Her touch is swift and not lacking in determination or precision. You're all hers, and you have been this whole time.

The truth is simple enough; the act is no different from the countless times you've thought about her after last time, and how many times you've helped yourself to sweet thoughts. It's all the same. She's a blurry mess in your memories; all of the little moments when she lingered in your mind. And it's all the same now. So easy, the motions her fingers force you through. Her touch is unchanging and full of vigour. You're more than confident she would be the same, regardless of what position or state the two of you were in. It's perfect and she's perfect and—

"Fuck," you curse under your breath, so taken aback by what just happened. It took over you, gripping every fibre of your being in a way that even now, it feels foreign and a little numbing. Your chest rises and falls, desperately trying to get as much air into your lungs.

Haewon flashes a smile, she knew. How could she not know? That's why it wasn't necessary to utter the word. Haewon lets herself sink back, lying between your legs. You look down at her. That flushed and sticky face. The tangled locks of her hair. The playful tongue perched on her lower lips and the grin behind it. Those eyes full of satisfaction observing her own body and the mess you made on her stomach.

That fucking smile.

She's all yours, and she has been this whole time.

***

You knew they were talking about it. Everyone in the whole damn building knew and it had only been a week.

The whispers of everyone you walked past tainted your ears. The eyes of passers-by and the stifled giggles of the stationary huddles. Word got out somehow and it was the next big thing. Sure it would pass in a week, but for now its was your name and Haewon's on everyone's lips.

If only they knew. If only they knew that right now you were heading to the locked library that Haewon had stolen the key for so you could fuck each other senseless while you skipped a class. Then they would really have something to talk about. Maybe she was the bad influence and not you. Or maybe you were a bad influence too.

Or maybe you were a good influence. That's the one that appealed to you. You have to admit, you were more attentive now. You found her more beautiful now than you had previously. You really did have an attraction. An affinity with her. It wasn't purely physical and that had to mean something. You didn't plan for this, but you're in it now.

That's the thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

[rhaenella]

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.7

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: the finale... once again, all songs mentioned are either by taylor swift or léon. happy reading x

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo and 1,292,849 others

y/n: End & New Beginnings. ONE WEEK.

✨Is It Over Now?~Say Don’t Go~Bigger Than The Whole Sky~You’re Losing Me~Now That We Don’t Talk~Pretty Boy✨

View all 12,138 comments

user55: y/n’s latest masterpiece is incoming!!

user56: YES GIRL LETS GO

user57: omg finally 😱

user58: can’t fucking wait 💛

user59: babe are you realizing you’re releasing on friday the 13th 💀

user56: y/n is like “i’ve conquered all this year’s bad luck already, no one can stop me”

6 October

Liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,450,288 others

y/n: It feels like it’s been a long time coming and now it’s here, my new EP ‘End & New Beginnings’ 🤍 Been a few sleepless nights making this to be honest. Ups and downs like always. But now I’m just so happy to let go of it and let you have it, and hopefully you’ll embrace it and make it yours. 

To the incredible people who’ve been a part of this record, THANK YOU! Couldn’t have done it without you… 

Here’s to the end & new beginnings 🕊️

View all 14,159 comments

taylorswift: Perfection 🥰✨🎼😍💋

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo: ART.

Liked by y/n

lilymhe: Beautiful work sweetie, I can’t with how talented you are 🥹 You made me cry the entire 23 mins (and then again cuz it was on repeat)

y/n: Awww, thank you love 🥰 and I’m sorryyyy 🙊

alex_albon: It’s so so good! I didn’t cry tho…

lilymhe: Liar

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Wow 💕

Liked by y/n

yourbestfriend: You’ve outdone yourself once again, darling, love you

y/n: I love you more baby

user60: as someone who’s just gone through a terrible breakup too, i cannot express how comforting it is to hear these songs and realize i’m not alone

Liked by y/n

13 October

—

You let your phone drop to the bathroom counter, blinking slowly, unable to fathom the conversation that had just taken place. Had he really just said those things? Scrolling through the texts confirmed that yes, he had indeed. The bastard.

Charles had always been the jealous type. But attacking you like that when he had been the one to… It was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grasp the depths of how much he had actually hurt you.

You’d loved him with all of your heart. Until he had ripped it out and hurled it to the floor, letting it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Yet, even then, you would’ve forgiven him. If only he’d apologised. If only he’d shown true remorse. But he hadn’t. And so you’d been forced to walk the path of mending your own heart, and move on with your life.

Perhaps a small part of you had hoped that he could be happy for you. That somehow, even after everything, you would be able to greet each other normally—that you could coexist peacefully. But as his texts just now had demonstrated, that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now. And definitely not next week in Texas. You sighed. It would’ve been too good to be true, anyway. Especially considering who you were currently seeing…

A light knock sounded at the door, startling you out of those thoughts. 

“Are you almost ready to go, darling?” a male voice asked, soft.

Right. Dinner. Celebrations. 

You had been in the midst of applying the finishing touches to your makeup and outfit before Charles had interrupted, quite literally shocking you to the core when his name had appeared on your lock screen. He’d been the last person you’d expected to hear from today.

You swallowed the bitter taste that Charles’ texts had managed to leave behind. He wasn’t worth it, you repeated to yourself. You weren’t going to let his shenanigans ruin a perfect night—a perfect date. You ran a hand through your hair and readjusted the necklace around your neck when the bathroom door creaked open behind you. 

Looking up, your eyes met your handsome, new boyfriend’s through the mirror. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in silent question, ever patient as he waited for you to finish up. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of him, dressed to perfection in a dark suit, hair neatly tousled.

As always, his presence was able to reassure you within the blink of an eye, the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxing as you gladly let all of your complex emotions fall away.

“Yes,” you nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your lips. “I’m ready.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

THE END

but who is she with? well, there’s a little (and not so subtle) easter egg that refers back to the beginning of part 6 that will confirm certain things… have you spotted it?

thank you everyone for coming along on this ride! it’s been a hell of a lot of fun writing and creating this story 🥰 my apologies to all the y/n x charles shippers out there, but as our songbird said: here’s to the end and new beginnings…

Now, if you'd like, please cast your votes below :)

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx @kagatinkita @allywthsr @evieepepi08 @viennakarma @riverjane-d @httpjeonlicious @madnesstaking0ver @futurecorps3 @celesteblack08 @sadg3 @simxican @glow-ish @spideybv28 @laneyspaulding19 @tswizzleismother @slytherinfolk25 @merchelsea @1655clean @urgirlnextdoorr @cixrosie @lightdragonrayne @lxclerc @hopexcroc @nichmeddar @imthebadguyyy

[buzzcutlip]

hiiii, for the prompt thing, could u do carmy + "is this the part where you kick me out" and/or "i can't do this without you"? 🩷

also i am BEGGING for part 2 of the worst day pls i check literally every single day to see if it's up !!!

Hello! Cracks and Gaps is getting longer and longer, bigger and bigger. I don't quite know how to separate the text into chapters. I'm hoping I'll publish chapter 2 by the end of August/beginning of September. Thank you for your interest and support :)

Prompt: "I can't do this without you" Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Explicit 1600 words (warnings for injuries/burns and a bit of mean!Carmy - but also gentle!Carmy so it's fine, Claire is mentioned but note that this is set a couple weeks after the fridge incident)

The loud chime of the downstairs doorbell rings sharply through the quiet apartment. You get up to the intercom and buzz Carmen in.

You’ve only ever had the girls over—Tina, Sydney, and once even Nat. Those were very rare moments spent outside the kitchen, outside The Bear, when you somehow managed to have a day off together. Normally, you’re not very comfortable letting people into your apartment. And having Carmen here—you try not to think about it too much.

The thing is, you had an accident in the kitchen five days ago during one of those crazy afternoons just before lunch opening—full of yelling, collisions, and near-strokes—when you managed to scald your right forearm. Like, properly scald, until the skin was baby pink and raw-looking. The longer you looked at the damaged area, the dizzier you felt.

Richie drove you to the hospital, not caring about his absent driving license, and sat with you in the emergency room while a nurse bandaged the big, painful blisters that had formed where just skin used to be. Only the next day did you learn that it hadn’t been your fault—Marcus had slipped on water that Ebra had spilled, bumping into Carmy, who bumped into you, forcing you to lean against the stove with a huge pot of boiling spaghetti. Due to the shock, you completely forgot. Not that you would ever hold it against any of them.

The moment you hear Carmy’s knock on the door, your heart speeds up. You know it’s stupid and unreasonable, but you look up to the chef very much, admiring what he’s accomplished, and very, very secretly, you do have a little—big—crush on him.

“Thank you for coming, really,” you greet him earnestly as soon as you’re face-to-face with him.

“It’s the least I could do,” Carmy says as you lead him toward the kitchen table where all your medical supplies are laid out. Soon after getting home from the ER, you figured out that you wouldn’t be able to change the bandages on your dominant hand twice a day by yourself—not properly. There are many other things you haven’t been able to do.

“And it makes sense since I live the closest,” Carmy adds as he settles down next to you after washing his hands thoroughly. Leaning in, he starts removing the dressing, as you instructed, holding your hand carefully.

“Have you and Richie talked yet?” you ask to fill the silence with something.

Carmy doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “You’ve been gone for four days. It’s—it's gonna take longer than that,” he mumbles, peeling off the gauze sponges soaked in antibiotic cream. You hiss, trying to retract your hand instinctively, but Carmy doesn’t relent.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, giving you a moment to relax again. He reapplies the cream to the skin scarred by the blisters, which have mostly drained by now. It hurts like hell, his touch bringing stinging tears to your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Carmy says when he peers up at you.

“Not your fault,” you grit your teeth against the burning pain, trying to remember if you’ve taken a painkiller today. His touch is gentle and careful, and the combination of his softness and the contact does strange things to you. It’s turning you on.

“We should’ve done better. To prevent things like this from happening. The kitchen should be a safe work environment,” he adds, glancing at his own scarred hands. “As safe as possible.”

When he finishes wrapping your arm with the gauze dressing, you feel a wave of relief that he’s no longer inspecting your scarred skin.

Carmen leans back in his chair, running a hand through his unruly hair. “What else can I do?”

The possibilities rush through your mind, but you quickly dismiss all inappropriate intrusive thoughts. “Would you help me wash my hair?” you ask, grimacing at your own ineptitude, embarrassed and frustrated. Your scalp has been itching for the second day, driving you absolutely nuts.

Carmen nods without hesitation, understanding the vulnerability behind your request. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need,” he says gently, standing up and glancing around your apartment to find the bathroom.

You lead him there, feeling a mix of relief and self-consciousness. You’re not used to asking for help, especially not with something so personal. Carmen seems to sense this because as you walk, he doesn’t say anything more, just follows your lead.

The bathroom is small but clean, and you can’t help but notice the way Carmen’s presence fills the space, making it feel even smaller. You pull out a chair and sit with your back to the basin, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. Carmen moves around you, adjusting the water temperature and rolling up his sleeves. When his fingers brush against your neck as he gathers your hair, a shiver runs down your spine.

“Lean back a little,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant but soothing. You do as he says, closing your eyes as he begins to wet your hair. The warm water runs down your scalp, and for a moment, you can almost forget the pain in your arm and the way your heart races whenever Carmen is near.

He’s gentle, more so than you would have expected from someone who spends his days commanding a chaotic kitchen. His fingers work the shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp in slow, careful circles. The sensation is almost too much—too intimate, too comforting—and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“You’re very quiet.”

“So are you. When you’re not shouting,” you don’t miss the opportunity to pick at him. “It’s hard to figure you out.”

Carmen scoffs, but there’s a subtle tension in his voice. “Right back at ya.”

The water in the basin swishes loudly as Carmen rinses the shampoo, combing through your hair with his fingers, careful not to tug too hard, squeezing the excess water ouf from your hair. ““There you go,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “All done.”

You sit up slowly, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you. Couldn’t do it without you.”

Carmen offers a small, almost shy smile, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of unease, like he’s unsure of how to respond. You wonder, not for the first time, if the tenderness he’s showing isn’t something that comes naturally to him. 

The shift is abrupt. Familiar from how you know him from work. His mood swings and angry outbursts. You don’t know what causes it. Maybe he can finally see it on you. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together, the redness of your cheeks. Is this his secret superpower -- can he read thoughts?

“What?” you ask with an unease when he stares at you for too long, wiping his wet hands in the pink towel, then putting it neatly on the radiator behind him.

Carmen’s movements are swift and decisive as he kneels in front of you, his rough voice breaking the silence. “I blame myself,” he says, almost desperately. He takes your injured hand, his lips brushing against the bare fingers and knuckles peeking out from beneath the bandages. His other hand disappears between your thighs, and you’re mortified at the thought that he can probably feel how wet you are through the layers of clothing. 

“There are other ways to make you feel better,” he says, his words dripping with a raw, suggestive intensity that leaves you stunned. You blink rapidly, trying to process the unexpected turn in his demeanor.

A wave of emotions crashes over you, paralyzing you with its intensity. “What about Cla -”

“Shut up,” he murmurs quietly, without much heat. “You want this or not?”

You do, you’re nodding. You’ll take anything he’s willing to give you, no matter what. 

Carmen eats you out. He pulls down your leggings along with your panties, eyes fixed between your legs where you’re already - embarrassingly - wet from all of his touches, intentional or not. Carmen only uses his mouth on you - his tongue and lips, keeping his hands where you can’t see or feel them. It reminds you of David Coperfield and his right magic hand never touching Claudia Schiffer. Like if Carmy put his fingers into your pussy it would suck out his mojo, or something.

Usually it’s hard for you to come just from oral sex but Carmen’s different. He uses these long, wide licks on you, literally eating your pussy out, rather than just licking at your clit. That really does the trick for you. 

When you come, hand gripping Carmy’s curls, he’s busy touching himself. You can hear the rustling and the wet noises even through the static in your ears.

You can barely catch your breath when Carmen says: “Pull,” and you do - hard - which leaves him gasping, and even though he doesn’t make any loud noises, it makes your pussy throb. 

He comes with his head between your legs, licking at you weakly without much intent. You know only because his movements come to a stop and for a moment you’re both still. Until Carmen visibly shakes himself and his eyes find yours once again. 

“Say thank you, chef,” he murmurs against your skin, punctuating his words with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. The sting of it makes you jump, gasping at the unexpected pain.

“Thank you,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper, shaky from the intensity of it all.

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Angst Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: angst, kiiinda comfort, cleaning his injuries, Dazai being a protective idiot

wc:835

warnings: n/a, some Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: I’m posting a second version of this story that will be more lighthearted/fluffy than this one. I just liked the concept and when I started writing I realized this could go two different ways. So I just wrote both lmao. Here's the fluffy version!

You were frustrated. No, that only begins to describe it. You were pissed, furious, irate. Whatever other powerful words there are to describe extreme anger, you were feeling it. 

You pour some antiseptic onto the cotton pad in your fingers, the fibrous material soaking up the liquid quickly. You raise it to Dazai’s back and press it against the deep wound resting there.

“Ahh,” Dazai hisses. “Jeez, you could be a little more careful.” You can hear the pain in his voice, but you can also hear the teasing tone underneath it. Your face scrunches in annoyance.

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you,” you huff and continue to clean his wound. 

He’d explained what had happened, how he’d been quite literally stabbed in the back with a poison coated dagger. looking at its placement, it’s a miracle the blade didn’t hit his spine. just an inch further to the right and this whole situation could have been very different.

“I can’t believe you left like that. You should have told me,” you say quietly. 

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have worked out like this if I did, you know that.”

And you did. But still. He disappeared so suddenly and the next thing you knew he was working with someone who planned to destroy your home? You knew Dazai would never betray you like that, not seriously. But at the same time, seeing him in that light scared you.

You finish cleaning his back and apply antibiotics and bandages, adding to the many that were already wrapped haphazardly around him. 

Once you’re done, you move to stand in front of him and begin to clean the various cuts and scrapes on his front side. You prepare another cotton pad and swipe over the wounds, none of them being severe enough to require much attention.

As you work, Dazai’s eyes are keenly focused on you. He watches as you carefully clean him up, a soft but determined look on your face, though it’s almost entirely hidden by the frustration distorting your features. 

A smile spreads across his lips and he wraps a hand around your free one. You ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of falling for his flirty little tricks. 

You were both aware of the effects he had on you and, though he didn’t use it against you often, he would use it to his advantage. And right now it was in hopes of getting you to not be angry at him.

As your eyes scan over the marks scattering his body, your vision begins to blur. Before you can stop it, there are tears falling from your eyes. Are these angry tears, sad tears or relieved tears? You have no idea. Maybe it’s all of them at once.

“You idiot. Why do you have to be so careless?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper. Dazai looks at you, his smile slowly fading into a thoughtful but somber expression. He knows you aren’t expecting an answer, but he replies anyway.

“Because I care for you.” And that’s really all it boiled down to. He recklessly puts himself in dangerous situations if he knows that’s what it’ll take to protect his home and friends. To protect you. Even so, you hated his methods.

“I was so worried, Osamu,” you say quietly, afraid that your voice will crack too much if you speak normally. Despite your low tone, the pain and fear in it rings loud and clear. Dazai’s hand grips yours tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to act like you’re working alone.” He doesn’t reply, only drops his gaze to where his hand is wrapped carefully around yours. 

You’d had this conversation countless times before. That he is part of a team that is more than capable of handling serious situations. That he doesn’t have to jump head first into danger to solve problems. That he has other’s to lean on. That he has you. 

But no mater how many times you said this, it never changed. And it terrifies you.

“It’s just… what if you had-”

“I didn’t, that’s what matters,” Dazai says, cutting you off. His hand leaves yours to rest on your face instead, his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes over your cheek, wiping away your drying tears. 

“Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“You know I can’t make that promise.”

He was right. He will continue to keep you in the dark if he knows that’s what it takes to keep you safe, even if you both hate it. There was no point in promising that he wouldn’t. 

His hand moves from your face to the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. He brings your face closer to his, his dark brown eyes looking into yours intently.

“I love you, more than anything,” He whispers and places a kiss to your forehead. “And I only want to protect you.”

And that’s what he’ll continue to do.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[babygirl-riley]

Numb

SPOILERS! IF YOU HAVENT WATCH/PLAY THE CAMPAIGN OF MWIII THAN MOVE ON!

NO SERIOUSLY BYE

LAST TIME FOR NOT SEEING SPOILERS

[keep reading]

After the events of losing a comrade, you watch Simon move around empty

Warnings: PURE FUCKING DEPRESSION, angst, mentions of PTSD, major death character, soft!simon, husband!simon, depressed!simon, nightmares, swearing

“Did some force take you because I didn’t pray?”

A/N: Listen…I literally almost threw up when we saw him die like 😭 I wanted to just lay down and die. This is how I would think Simon would react after knowing and been married to you for a while. 🥲 Also a little hint that Soap had a partner for the Soap readers out there. 🖤

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You waited as you watched the world fall apart and settle. You knew Simon was out there, in the midst of it. When you got the text “I’m comin’ home.” You were thrilled, you thought everything was fine.

However.

It wasn’t, Simon came home as you waited on the couch. Immediately he stared right at you, you saw how distant he was. How cold. How sad. You stood up and walked to him as his shoulders dropped. You grabbed the side of his face and had him look at you. He didn’t move as his eyes landed on yours.

“What’s wrong.” You whispered trying to find an answer through his eyes.

He is tired. You kept thinking, nothing happened. Everything is fine. He is just tired. Sometimes he comes home like this. No he doesn’t. You corrected. Something was wrong.

Tears brimming on the edge of his painted eyes. You only seen on two fingers that you seen him cry or tears in his eyes. You looked at him concern rubbing his cheek bones on his mask. He inhaled, shakily. “He…Johnny.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

You scanned his eyes, trying to find out why he was talking about Soap like he…No. He can’t be. “Is he hurt?”

Simon looked away grabbing your wrists. He stared at your fingers, looking at the ring he gave you just a couple of weeks before the hell broke. He squeezed your wrists not hard but little tighter. “No…He-He’s…”

“Oh,” You said quietly before he looked up at you then he wrapped his arms around you holding you close. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You heard a soft sob as he squeezed you. You held the back of his head and back, rubbing soft circles. You both stood there for a moment before guiding him to the couch taking his boots off. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, he just let the tears fall. Never have you seen him like this. Usually he would lock himself somewhere until he was ready to just lay with you or cook with you.

This. This however he was in a state of shock? Numbness? The old Simon wouldn’t be like this towards you but now you were just grateful he was. When you took off his boots you stood up, his head still on the ground his shoulders stiff. You gently grabbed his chin, he looked up at you. “Let’s get you in the tub.” You whispered.

“Let’s just go to bed.” He disagreed, standing up and moving around you.

The next couple of months was hell. Either Simon would jolt awake and be covered in sweat to the point he felt the need to shower. Or you would wake up to him mumbling Soap’s name, getting closer to him to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Which made Simon feel worse, waking you up because he couldn’t sleep or even be asleep hurt him more. His pain is causing you pain. Even though you reassured him over and over again that it wasn’t that. He told you that he was going to Scotland to spread his ashes which you didn’t mind.

It was a week before he came home, you didn’t ask how it went because it mostly was hard from him. So you made his favorite food and tea as you both sat at the table. He played with his food, picking at it before sighing and left the room. You made a container that most likely wouldn’t be touched by him. He ate sure but it wasn’t his normal eating habit.

One night the nightmares became worse and it was was the same one. The tunnels connecting as gunfire was heard in the distance. Kyle and him sprinting to help just to see Johnny getting shot. Again and again. Hearing Price yell for him. Hearing HIS voice call his name. Feeling no pulse. See the crimson blood soak the floor. The cry and scream of his partner when him, Gaz, and Price went to bare the news.

This time he wasn’t mumbling his name he screamed. Which snapped you awake immediately, you turned to see Simon shaking his back facing away from you. “Simon,” You said sternly but not in a malicious manner. You placed your hand as he snapped up, making you jump from the sudden movement. He snapped his head to you, eyes wild, tears pricking. He searched your eyes, you tried to quickly change your shock impression before he saw it but it was too late. He got out of bed quickly. “Simon.”

He shut the bedroom door, quietly leaving you there. You waited for a moment before walking out. Noticing he wasn’t home yoh went back to bed. Waiting until he came home. During that you pulled out your phone and text Price.

Simon felt his phone go off, it was Price. He sighed answering. “You are awake.” Price mumbled.

Simon grunted. “Can’ sleep.”

“Me neither,” He sighed through the phone. “Meet me at the base Simon.”

Simon grunted in response turning around to head home. He didn’t go inside but text you to inform you. You just said okay with a heart, that’s what he loves about you never pushed. Never showed how you were irritated or upset that he wouldn’t. You knew eventually he would tell you, slowly it took time.

It wasn’t until the next day Simon came home, you were getting out of the shower when you saw him sitting on the bed. He looked at you his eyes searching his eyes. Simon’s eyes always told the story, for you, you always knew what he truly felt. That is another reason he loved you, he didn’t need to vocally tell you how he feels, you just knew.

You frowned and walked up to him, placing yourself between his legs and wrapped your arms around his head and back. Placing him on your stomach, he large arms engulfing your body closer. “I could’v saved him,” You stayed silent as he sighed. “He was too young. The bastard had so much ahead of him.”

You nodded rubbing his back, you didn’t say anything still. What could you say? Simon said all the things that are true. You inhaled deeply moving your arms to cup your hands on his face. Having him look up at you. “You couldn’t do anything more than you already were.” You whispered, you rubbed his cheekbones up and down.

Simon’s eyes saddened more, he knew you were right. It was the part of him that thought about his friend and his comrade. Someone he eventually cared for. He hummed and nodded once before inhaling deeply. “That’s what Price said. I just…wish there was something more I could’v done.”

You hummed acknowledging his comment, everyone wishes something to have changed. To go back in time for that last second or minute before things go south. It’s unfortunate part of life not being able to go back to reset. Simon sighed. “I just…” His voice cracks, you start tearing up from him about to cry. Simon is known to be the “tough” one, the one that doesn’t show tears for anyone. The vulnerable side of him doesn’t present often basically rarely.

“Walking into base and not hearing the annoyin’ cheerful scott…It just…its hauntin’.” He mumbles looking up at you once more.

You nodded and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Guiding him back to your stomach holding him. A question came to you, knowing that he would never say yes to it. It clawed at you the more you thought about it. You inhaled deeply. “Why not ask Price for a short leave?”

Simon tensed up, making you tense up, subconsciously slapping yourself in the face. Until you felt him relax. “Okay.” He mumbled into you, squeezing you tighter

“Okay.” You whispered, you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that. You didn’t care. All you cared about is that you had to be his light, like he has been for you.

[sleepyhollands]

Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇

harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.

now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?

call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.

harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.

“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.

was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”

“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”

harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?

one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.

“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”

their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.

“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”

“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”

harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.

“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”

“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.

crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”

“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.

harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.

he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.

eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”

“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.

four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.

“any more complaints, then?”

the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.

fucking finally.

crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”

but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.

harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.

“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”

and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.

“y-y/n.”

harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”

he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.

y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.

“’s just us here, love.”

“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.

oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.

“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”

tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.

“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”

y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.

“what are you going to do with me?”

harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.

“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”

y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”

“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”

“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”

harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.

why was that?

y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.

“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”

hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”

once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.

“why are you helping me, harry?”

harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.

“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”

y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.

his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.

taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D

[lumiaxz]

okokok imagine if baizhu and pantalone tag teamed. They literally look the same just a different mindset 😋

Double Trouble (Slight TW)

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Pairings: Baizhu x Pantalone x Reader

Warnings:, rough sex, Tag-teaming, double penetration, face fucking, Dacryphila, Soft dom baizhu, Mean Dom pantalone, crying, brat taming, Choking, pet names, degrading, (almost) blacking out , hate-fuck. Lmk if I missed anyyyy

A/N: This is kinda…sad? I would definitely read with caution idkk 🧐

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Pantalone is beyond tired of your bullshit, You don’t give 2 flying fucks about anything or anyone but yourself. It doesn’t matter what he does, you don’t care and continue doing it. Fucking you till you can’t speak or walk, does nothing. Choking till you pass out multiple times, does almost as worse of a job. Although Baizhu on the other-hand doesn’t mind it too much, he just ignores you which usually ends things. (usually) The other harbingers suggest just not allow you to come into the quarters nor near him but something about you tells him to not bypass that rule, or anything similar.

After a horribly long and stressful day, Pantalone rants to Baizhu about you, per-usual.

“That girl acts like she’s untouchable, it’s outrageous! How do you manage to just simply ignore her?!”

“It’s quite simple, just pretend you don’t hear her?”

After a few hours of his ranting, You skip into the pharmacy sounding bubbly and ready to cause trouble for both of them.

“Good afternoon, Pantalone and Baizhu!!”

“Not so fast, princess.“

He gets up and harshly grabs you by the hair and drags you into a eerie room. You struggle to get out of his tight grasp. Looking around, you spot things like blindfolds, random toys and seemingly handcuffs bolted to his desk, weird right?

Pantalone throws you onto his desk, but your scrambling allows you to constantly free yourself. Just as you think you’re avoiding these punishments too, Baizhu moves the curtain and enters the room. Baizhu grabs both of your wrists lightly and holds them in place for Pantalone to cuff them on the desk, to completely restrain you.

You assume they’ll try to fuck you to shut you up, which is correct but not in the way you think.

“I’m fed up with you, bitch.” Pantalone curses out

You’re bent over Pantalone’s desk, restrained to is aswell. Pantalone behind you, Baizhu infront of you. Strangely enough, nothing has happened, yet.

Your thoughts were cut short when you felt a harsh blow to your ass, it burned a lot, yet also felt…good? Except your body didn’t react how you felt. Tears streaming down your face.

Baizhu cups your wet face, lifting it up to meet his eyes.

“Aww, don’t cry love. This’ll be over before you know it.”

Enough time had already been wasted, Pantalone was far past patient with you. Your clothes were ripped into shreds within seconds.

Your precious skirt that you valued more than anything, into nothing but scraps of fabric on the floor.

“Come on, Why rip her skirt? It doesn’t take much to just slide it off.”

The wind in the room was enough to make your bare body shiver, not only in fear but cold.

“Stop fucking crying, slut.” Pantalone grunted

You attempt to keep your pride and ignore his order, even if you’re bent over the 9th Harbinger’s desk. Pantalone’s hand makes its way around your neck, tightly. Even with this painful gesture from him, you still don’t cave in.

He slams himself into you. All this time you been laying here, you hadn’t noticed him undoing his pants. He does this as a form of “punishment” all the time, yet this felt different, slightly more painfully than normal.

This sensation has your stomach in a queasy feeling, why?

“Notice anything different, Love?” Asked Baizhu

“No..”

“Your face says otherwise.” He says with a sweet smile

Pantalone swiftly speeds up his pace to cut your conversation with Baizhu, in jealousy?

The grip on your neck tightened, to the point where breathing wasn’t even a option. Baizhu notices that and releases you from the cuffs, how sweet, right? No, he did that only to flip you on your back and clips them back.

“You done putting on a show for her?” Annoyingly askes Pantalone

The mint haired one chuckles before stuffing your mouth with his cock aswell, Easily catching up to Pantalone’s pace.

“Isn’t quite nice to let your frustrations out on the one who caused it?” Asked Pantalone

“Somewhat, It’s hard to enjoy myself if I feel bad for her.” Baizhu says with a sigh

Suddenly, Their paces change and no longer match. 2 Different cocks moving in and out of you at different paces isn’t fun at all, for you at least.

A fuzzy feeling in your stomach adds to the queasy one, this time it burns, alot. Incoherent babbles and “sorry” spew from the corners of your mouth along with a bit of saliva, makeup that you spent hours on, streaming down your face.

Just as you feel yourself building your climax, it just disappears. Almost like it was just ripped from you, They both had pulled out. Baizhu pulling out was more of a relief, Pantalone on the other hand was more of a disappointment.

“Pantalone please I’m sorry..!” You whined

Weird, you were actually begging for him back inside you, almost as if you weren’t crying for him to pull out minutes ago.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Pantalone says with a grin

Quite ominous of him.

He unlocks the cuffs with a small key that was actually right next to your body. You were stunned, they made the impression that you were trapped but you just had to ask them to unlock it. That thought spun around your mind for awhile as you simple just sat there in utter silence.

Thoughts once again cut short, by Baizhu’s cold hands gently lifting you up from the desk, causing you to shiver. He was holding you like a baby, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on your ass supporting you.

Pantalone walked around his desk to meet you both on the other side.

“Just relax, alright?” Cooed Baizhu

The black haired male grabbed your ass and also helped support you. Somehow, you were managing your tears to not cry just by the touch of him. You were sandwiched between both of these tall long-haired men, Your tits pressed against Baizhu’s chest.

On the verge of tears, you managed to cough up a attempt to persuade them to atleast go slower than before.

“Pantalone.. I’mm s-sorry, please..” you voice, hiccuping in the process.

“Should’ve said that earlier, too late little one.” Pantalone says in a threatening tone

They both enter a hole of yours at the same time, the stretch is enough to force out a moan from pleasure and pain. The tears you had been holding back spewed out as they thrust in and out of you at different speeds. Incoherent “please” and “sorry” flooded the room, breaking the somewhat silence.

From your constant crying and stress on your body, you feel you mind go fuzzy and your vision start to blur more.

“Don’t you fucking black out on me, I want you and your mind right here the entire time.” Pantalone spits out in anger

You try to lay your head on Baizhu’s shoulder but all this time Pantalone was throwing you around, you forgot you also piss off Baizhu regularly.

“Not here either princess, no blacking out.” Sarcastically coos Baizhu

After a few more harsh thrusts they both come inside of you, filling you to your brim. Pantalone pulls out and cleans only himself up. But Baizhu keeps himself in you for a few more minutes before pulling out aswell.

“You alright, love? I apologize on Pantalone’s behalf. I Hope this reminds you to not bother us, ever again” Baizhu coos but with a hint of humor

You feel Baizhu kiss your forehead as he cleans you up.

Safe to say you never bothered them again.

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[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 5

Summary: Harry's got a proposition.

And you're not sure you're ready for it.

Word Count: 1.3k (SHE'S A BABY, I KNOW, BUT I GOTTA SET UP THE BIG STUFF)

(Previous parts to this series are down below at the end!)

So…what’s the appropriate, normal, non-creepy amount of time to wait after fucking your fist to the sound of somebody’s voice over the phone before texting them?

You grin to yourself when you see the text message slide down on your screen, your lip between your teeth as you click on his name.

Well, considering you could have a heart attack and keel over at any moment, I’d say the sooner the better.

How did I know you’d say that?

Cause I’m just so gosh darn charming.

Oh, is that what you are?

You seemed to think so when you were begging me to let you come.

…I wasn’t begging, I was just asking…really…nicely.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

I sleep a lot better after that phone call.

Yeah?

Yeah. Except for the fact that I wake up hard as a fucking rock and leaking into my boxers, but…whatever.

Yum. I mean…yikes. Sounds painful. 

 Careful, Cheese Girl. Or I might just call you again.

And what would be so bad about that?

Well, for one, I quite literally don’t think there’s any fucking come left in my body.

…I don’t know if I needed to hear that.

Why? Have you fallen in love?

Oh, is that what this strange feeling in my chest is? Love? Huh, I thought it was heartburn.

Aww, are you saying your heart burns for me?

I’m saying you’re lucky your number isn’t blocked.

You’d never block me. You think about me too much.

Who says I think about you?

Do you?

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to the screen as you contemplate a response.

You could lie to him. After all, he wouldn’t know the difference.

But…it would be a lie.

You do think about him. Far more than you care to admit.

The only problem…is that you don’t want to think about him.

After all, what would telling him even do? It’s not like anything could ever happen outside of the occasional phone sex.

You don’t even know the man.

But…what if you want to?

Yeah, I do. When it’s late at night and I can’t sleep.

A solid minute passes before he finally sends his response.

What did I just say? Are you trying to fucking kill me?

If you can survive a heart attack, you can survive this.

I would never survive you.

You’re not sure if this is meant to be a compliment or an insult…but your heart flutters, nonetheless.

Oops, sorry. Bad time? Are you in another meeting?

Nah. Out by the pool. 

That sounds nice. It’s fucking freezing here.

And where is here...exactly? If you don’t mind my asking.

Again, you hesitate. He could be a catfish…or a stalker…or just a fucking creep.

Or maybe he’s just curious. Maybe he wants to get to know you. And it’s not like you’d be telling him your exact address. Just…maybe a vague description of where you are in the country.

I’m guessing Los Angeles from your area code. 

And I only know that because I also have a Los Angeles area code. 

Which you can probably tell, so I don’t know why I said it.

And now I’m rambling, and you aren’t responding, and I think I freaked you out.

As the texts continue to roll in, you have to smirk, slightly relieved by how adorably flustered he is.

You can almost hear each response in his voice.

That sexy fucking voice.

Easy, Gramps. I lived in Los Angeles for a few years, but I’m in New York now.

Ah, the Big Apple. Nice. I like New York, but you’re right, it’s fucking freezing.

Do you come a lot? To New York I mean.

Uh huh. Sure, you did. And yes. To both.

Very nice. Any particular reason?

Well, sometimes it’s because I'm remembering that phone call. But other times it’s because I’m dreaming about that phone call. Either way, I’m just always thinking about you.

Your stomach flips.

I meant any particular reason you come to New York so often, you twat.

Oh, right. Yeah, I do a lot of business there. Or business-related things.

I see.

Suddenly, the chat goes quiet. Far too quiet, and as the minutes begin to tick by…you feel a strange tingle begin to crawl its way up the back of your throat.

And then—

“…hello?”

“Hi.” Harry. His voice. Breathless and seemingly rattled. “Sorry. I just…I figured if I didn’t call, I’d never say it? And I wanted to hear your reaction instead of just staring at those goddamn bubbles until I shit myself.”

A little surprised, you stand up from your desk and begin to pace toward the kitchen. “No, it’s fine. Are you…okay?”

“I’m…no. Yes, no. I’m fine.”

“…yes, no?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he repeats. “Sorry. I’m…shit. This isn’t going how I wanted it to.”

Your eyebrows raise. 

“I…so, here’s the thing,” he tries again. “There’s a thing. And I know we…don’t know each other, so we don’t really do things…but there’s a thing. That maybe…could be a thing. Like, an us thing.”

“…Harry?”

“…yeah?”

“You’re rambling again.”

You hear him exhale a laugh before there’s a bit of noise and he clears his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m…I do that. When I’m nervous.”

“I see. And why are you nervous?”

“’Cause of…the thing.”

“Ah.” You nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you. “Well…why don’t you tell me what this thing is.”

“Right.” More noise. “So…the thing. I’m…gonna be in New York this week.”

He goes quiet then, as if giving you time to process what he’s saying.

What he’s implying.

“Oh,” you breathe, the realization weighing heavy on your chest. 

“Yeah.” Another beat. “Look, I don’t…I’m not expecting us to meet. I don’t…that’s weird, I know. But…fuck, honestly? All I keep thinking about…is asking you. And I know it’s fucking weird. I know that but I had to ask you. ’Cause it would drive me nuts if I didn’t.”

A long stretch of silence passes between you as your mind begins to work overtime to create any sort of response.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he adds after a moment, almost sounding embarrassed. “Or at all. I don’t…I really don’t expect anything, but…I’ll be in the city on Friday. And…if you do want to meet…I’ll be at Ellen’s Stardust Diner. At twelve. You could…I don’t know, peek in? See if I look…worth your time? I don’t know. I’m…shit, sorry. I thought this would go better.”

“No, I—” Your eyes squeeze shut. “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” He clears his throat again. “Fuck, sorry. I’m cool. Uh…really. Interesting. Okay, got it. Good to know.”

You smile to yourself as you lean against your kitchen island. “Oh yeah, you are so cool.”

“The coolest—hey, look, I’ve…I’ve gotta go,” he sighs, and for some reason, you feel your heart sink. “I know I keep doing that, and I swear I didn’t mean to drop this on you and then disappear, I’ve just…I’ve…”

“More meetings?” you guess, and you hear him take another breath.

“Yeah. S’always more fucking meetings, and more fucking shit I’m apparently doing wrong.” 

Your expression softens. “I see. Well…good luck.”

“Thanks.” A beat. “So…you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“’Cause you can tell me if I’m just too attractive for you to actually meet. I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “Okay, I really do have to go now.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting for you to hang up.”

“Honestly, it might be easier if you hang up first. I don’t really think I have the strength to hang up on you.”

There he fucking goes again. 

You tug your lip between your teeth. “Bye, Harry.”

“Yeah…bye, Cheese Girl. Maybe see you Friday.”

You grin.

“Yeah. Maybe see you Friday.”

Next part! ~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

Previous parts:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 4*

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[zer0brainc3lls]

tmr angst headcanons!!

0k yall, the promised angst head canons have arrived and if you wish to check my sweet ones they are here

Gally:

oh gally.. poor gally and his absolute guilt and fear of losing himself again and killing another..

after he killed chuck for MONTHS he was terrified he would somehow lose himself again and kill someone else, he literally refused to even have physical contact unless absolutely necessary for so long, once he slowly got over his fear he never really got back to normal, hugs are EXTREMELY rare from him, even rarer then before.

gally refused to let himself grieve over chuck and the deaths of the Gladers that stayed behind until he literally couldn't because he believed for a long time he believed he didn't have the right to.

He refused to talk about them too, like if someone just asked about the maze or about what happened he would refuse to answer them

one day frypan brought up something about one of Gally's old friends on accident and he just started BALLING, it wasn't loud or anything just silent tears as he started insisting he didn't mean to hurt anyone, after talking it out with frypan a bunch and a few more times after he felt a bit less guilt.

After a long time he carved his old friends names onto the stone with the help of frypan, and him overall just being supportive and cheering him on :)

(As you can tell Gally and frypan being friends is like my fav thing ever)

Minho:

after Minho was rescued he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, sometimes he would insist that the safe haven wasn't real and that people were trying to hurt him or that wicked was going to come back and kill him

i also wouldn't be surprised if he developed some form of hallucinations along side it, long making him spiral further. slowly though they became less frequent and intense and he learnt to ground himself, occasionally he just squeezes his friends knees or shoulders to remind himself they are actually there or asks them "this is real right?"

Minho ended up with permanent insomnia and night terrors though, for the first month or two in the safe haven he would wake up kicking and screaming but soon it just turned into silent sleep paralysis.

he never gained all his muscle and stamina back, DONT GET ME WRONG HE IS STILL EXTREMELY FAST AND STRONG but not the level he was before. (slightly chubby Minho post death cure will forever be one of my fav head canons omfg)

He and Newt talk about hallucinations and not being able to tell what’s real and find a massive comfort in each other because no one else actually knows what it’s like. (Don’t get me wrong so many people in the safe haven have trust issues but it’s not the same yk?)

Newt:

Before I even get into the mental impacts of just EVERYTHING I’m just gonna mention the fact of how WEAK he would’ve been afterwards, the flare would’ve done numbers on his body that the cure couldn’t have fixed. He was probably weak for awhile (like a month or two) and his limp was significantly worse and he used a cane (after he got better he kept it because it just made everything significantly easier)

Also I feel like even thought he got the cure he still struggles with hallucinations and paranoia, mainly about him getting the flare again or the cure somehow not working

When he gets sick (like a cold) he’s SUPER on edge because it just reminds him of the early hours/days of the flare, especially if he gets phlegm in his throat or something. Thomas and Minho have caught him mumbling to himself saying "you don't have the flare you don't have the flare-"

he doesn't talk about when he had the flare to many people, maybe Thomas and Minho a few times but he wont go into detail.

Thomas:

the TRUST ISSUES. OMG. during the scorch trails he only trusted Newt, Minho and Brenda indefinitely, he trusts Jorge and everyone else to an extent but he occasionally has his doubts.

he's entirely desensitized to blood and gore, along with Minho and Newt. his pain tolerance is extremely high and if he gets hurt he never realizes to extent, like he could sprain his ankle or something and say "i just need to walk it off" as it turns purple and black

he got VERY protective of himself and the few people he does trust, especially Newt and Minho. anyone he doesn't know he has a fear that they are always lying and that everything they say is bullshit. basically a massive "trust no one (except like 3 people)" mentality.

even though he isn't a leader anymore he still feels the need to keep up this facade of being strong and fearless, even though there is no danger anymore.

he's super jumpy, always on guard and ready. constant state of fight or flight, anyone who's sitting around him he constantly as an eye on. sometimes even Newt or Minho on a bad day, for weeks post death cure if you touched him without warning he flinch and if he didn't he adrenaline would go through the roof until he realized "oh its just ____"

[adamstanheightsleftshoulder]

go on, roll your eyes || adam stanheight

SMUT!!!!! (minors dni tq)

x afab!gn!reader | 2306 words

this is my first time um ever writing smut for public consumption so i would love to start off by saying i do not know what i am doing! eye yam raw dogging this <3

id also love 2 say ily 4ever hot girls love saw discord server for literally inspiring this whole thing,, enjoy spotting things we said in chat :3

Adam’s main goal is to make your eyes look directly into the back of your own head - conveniently, this is one of the things he does best. He barely has to try.

Doesn’t stop him from always giving it his all, though.

And he loves it. Loves it. 

Loves the way you lose yourself, the way your head falls back and you say his name like it’s the only part of reality your brain has held onto.

It happens when you’re at the mall - and God only knows why you’re even there, neither of you particularly like the mall - as he watches you in the afternoon sun from the skylight above. Watches you like you’re his world.

For all intents and purposes, it’s been a perfectly normal and sweet afternoon. 

“I’m just saying this mall wouldn’t have the reputation it does if anybody cleaned up after themselves,” You say, leaning on the food court table, “I mean look at that guy- five bucks says he gets up and leaves everything right where it is,”

“I’m not taking that bet, we both know you’re right,” Adam laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, gentle smile on his face. 

You watch as the aforementioned guy stands up from where he was eating, wipes his hands on his pants, and abandons everything on his table - six steps away from a bin.

Time seems to slow down for Adam as you roll your eyes at the sight. His eyes glaze over - you, tangled in the sheets, twitching, on cloud 9. He feels like he’s there now, buried deep in you, filling you up, his teeth sinking into your collarbone and your nails in his back. 

His smile drops, his heart flutters, and… oh, there goes a rush of blood. How strange, such an innocuous motion can cause Adam to just about see stars.

“What’s up with you?” You ask, confused smile on your face. He doesn’t budge. He’s white knuckled, gripping the table. “Seriously, Adam, what’s going-“

But you recognise that look in his eyes. You know the way his breath stutters. 

Adam is falling apart. There is a tent growing under that table.

Suddenly a warm, trembling hand is on your wrist and you’re being dragged away from the table, leaving everything behind (and becoming the same as the person you were just mocking).

Before you really even register you’ve left the food court and entered somewhere else, your back is against a cool tiled wall and he’s pressed against you like he’s trying to crush you.

“God, you get me so worked up, you don’t even have to try,” His voice is a low rumble, halfway between a growl and a desperate plea.

“You can’t be serious,” You whisper into his ear as he kisses down your neck, “From one little eye roll?”

Suddenly his hand is on your face, gentle but firm, holding you in place so you have to maintain eye contact.

He can read it in your eyes, you’re no good at hiding it, not from him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger by now. You want him BAD.

He smirks, drinking in the sight of you like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

“If that’s all you think you did, then go on,” He challenges, and as he presses himself somehow even closer to you you can feel just how rock hard he is, “Roll your eyes,”

“Make me,” You bite back, and Adam just grins.

“Oh, I intend to,”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. He kisses you feverishly, like he’s on death row. His left hand stays on your face and his right drifts to your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh so hard he can feel the bone under his thumb. He presses one knee in the space between your legs.

You whimper into his mouth and he groans. He knows exactly what this mix of pain and pleasure does to you. He knows that he’s ripping you into ruin.

Adam then drops to his knees, like this bathroom stall is Church and you are holy. 

His eyes are wide and pleading, he looks almost hungry, like he’s been in the desert for a thousand years and you are a blessed mirage.

He looks at you like he’s going to eat you whole. In a way he is.

Adam raises his eyebrows for a second, just a twitch, as if to ask if you’re sure you want him doing this. You nod with vigour. How could you not want this? Adam and his perfect lips…

Your head falls back as he unzips your jeans, yanks them down with the gusto of someone who’s been waiting to unwrap their present for years. 

Your hand finds his hair. He lets a pathetic little groan fall from his lips in response - it gets louder when your nails graze his scalp. 

“God, look at you. Fucking barely holding it together,” He quips, kissing up your thighs, “Eager little whore,”

You try to speak, try to banter back; tell him he’s being mean. He swings one of your legs over his shoulder before you can, and he takes the words out of your mouth as he teases his fingers under the very edge of your underwear. He laughs low in his throat as your hips roll against nothing. He wants you so bad he could tear you to shreds about it. 

“Use your words,” He breathes, “C’mon, baby. You’re not that far gone yet, talk to me,”

“Please,” Whispered like a prayer, “Please, God, Adam- Please,”

“Good enough,” 

He tucks your underwear out of the way with one hand, his breath makes you quiver just a little as it hits your sensitive skin. 

“Needy slut,” 

One hand firmly gripping your thigh and the other allowing him access, Adam kisses along the very very sensitive inside of your thigh, until he reaches right beside the dripping wet, wanton hole that belonged, truly, to him. 

Oh, yes. Adam wants you to see stars. Adam wants you to walk out of here on legs made of jelly. Adam wants to make those eyes roll.

He presses his tongue flat against that bundle of nerves he knows how to find so well, and you cry out in a strangled voice - “Adam!”. He flicks his tongue and you twitch. 

Adam has never been this hard in his LIFE. His jeans are suddenly a prison. But he has to take care of you first, he has to make the risk of a public bathroom worth it. 

“God you taste perfect, baby,” He whispers, and then his tongue is right back where it was a second ago. 

There’s little gentleness involved. It’s like he’s trying to find a way to say he loves you, but the only way he can is through devouring. 

His tongue is harsh in its flicking, in how he focuses hard on your already sensitive clit, the way his nose gets pressed against you makes you worry he might hurt himself - but there’s no sign of him stopping. If anything he’s getting worse. 

Every noise you make eggs him on. Tentatively at first, he presses one long finger inside of you. When your back arches off the tile, you feel the way he moans, before he pulls the first one out only to add a second finger.

He’s like clockwork. You manage to find the will to look down again, to find he’s closed his eyes, focussed. 

He curls a finger inside of you, and you’re ashamed to admit how close you are to coming undone already. You don’t have to admit it though, Adam knows. He can feel you clenching around him, and if he had the brains right now to do it he might just laugh at how desperate you are. 

His fingers pound now, setting a pace that is quick and even but rough. Adam needs you. Adam could cum in his jeans right now from the way you squirm on his fingers alone. 

You rock back and forth against his face and he just about loses his mind. HIS eyes are in danger of rolling back. He eats you out like a man starved, like he’s begging for more despite being the one in control. 

It takes you over before you realise you’ve reached that point - no warning, and you’re jerking back and forth, a twitching mess, fingernails in his scalp - and you cum. It washes over you, and you have to grab Adam’s shoulder for stability. 

If he didn’t know any better, if he didn’t know what you always wanted (more), he’d stop here. Thank God Adam knows better. 

He retracts his fingers and watches as you clench on instinct around nothing. He wipes his mouth a little, but not enough to wipe the taste away. The taste he savours, the taste he craved and craves more often than he should ever admit. 

A wreck. He’s making a wreck of you. 

He stands, letting your leg fall back to where it can try to support you. 

You practically fall into his firm chest, and he chuckles down at you. 

“Good, hm?” He asks, as if he’s not sure, “You terrible thing,” 

You can only hum in response, half sex-drunk, clinging onto him for dear life. 

“Can’t get enough, can you?” 

He’s teasing you? This is his fault! That asshole-

You whimper again, and he comes undone. 

“Fine,” He concedes, making quick work of his own jeans, “Ready?”

You in fact started to nod before he’d even finished saying ‘ready. 

And then, bliss - you feel him start to line his thick cock up with your entrance, the very tip of the head poking just inside. 

You feel like you could gush just at that contact. 

He kisses you quickly as he presses himself in, catching the cry of pleasure and surprise that you let out between his lips. He groans, deep in his throat - a deeply, deeply satisfied sound. Adam’s been waiting so patiently. 

“Taking me so well,” his whisper fans across your face and you lose any contact with the world of words. 

Adam doesn’t wait any longer because he CAN’T. He pulls himself almost all the way out, only to slam himself back in again a second later. 

Adam fucks you like he hates your guts. Like he detests everything about you so much he has to rearrange your insides into something he can stand. 

“A-Adam,” You choke out, and if it weren’t for the hand he’s just begun to rest on your cheek, you’d forget that he loves you. The harsh feeling of his teeth in your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder… you’d be forgiven for forgetting that he’s capable of being gentle. You roll in time with the violent pace he’s set, your hips slapping together so hard you know it’ll bruise. 

“G…God,” He breathes against your now bruised neck, “You’re so good,” 

Your core tightens and you know the second orgasm is coming, quickly. You cry against him, fingers digging into his back. 

“Go on,”

It’s like it was a taught command. He tells you, you cum. 

He’s nowhere near done yet. He’s got too much in mind. He can’t stop until you’re all but faded away from that pretty little head of yours. Until you forget your own name, but remember his. 

His pace never lets up, never even pauses. You’re making sounds that are obscene, bordering on pornographic, and if Adam wasn’t so determined he’d bust right here and now.  

Your head is pressed against the tile again, crying out like an animal in heat, when his hand covers your mouth and he stops moving completely. 

A whine comes from you, unwillingly. You’d be embarrassed of the sound if you could be right now. 

“Sh, sh sh. Someone’s going past,” He whispers, pressing his sweaty forehead to your own, “Wait, baby. Don’t want to get caught, do you?”

You shake your head but your body betrays you. Adam watches, jaw dropping a little at just how fucking perfect you are as you squirm around him. He’s still fully inside, fully sheathed. He’s hitting every place in there and he’s STOCK STILL. It feels cruel, crueller when you realise how much he’s enjoying watching you suffer in the stillness. 

You whimper against his hand, and he only presses it to your face further. 

“Stay quiet,” 

There’s a threatening edge to his voice and it doesn’t take long to realise why. The thumb of the hand that’s not desperately silencing you reaches down and plays with your clit - you could explode at this point. He barely has to do much, you’re squirming so hard and he’s so close to letting go inside of you-

It seems he decides the threat to your privacy is gone, and your torture is over, as he kicks back into action like a machine again. 

He loses himself, now, it’s his turn. The most desperate sounds you’ve heard him make echo on the bathroom walls.

“God- Fuck, fuck- baby, I- Can I- Please, please, can I- I need to, I-“ He stutters against you, getting a little sloppy but no less violent in his thrusts, “Let me fill you,”

You keen and he takes it as a green light, painting your insides white with his orgasm, and your third of the day comes crashing over you as he grunts your name.

Everything gets tensed for a moment - his fingers in the skin of your face and your hip, his jaw. His head falls to your shoulder for a second. He catches his breath, slow final thrusts pushing his own spend in and back out of you. 

He looks at you now, assessing the job he did. 

“You beautiful thing,” He pants, swallowing harshly, “There they go. Those fuckin’ eyes,”

[batrogers]

Headaches

[Wild & Hyrule, hair-care, soft comfort, very G-rated, ~800 words]

Also on AO3 now!

Link sat at the edge of the river they were using for baths and fought down the urge to scream. He pulled down the messy bun at the back of his head and even that felt bad. He’d started putting it up a few days ago, when he could tell it was starting to get matted again. There’d been too many people around, and too much to do to really sit down and take the time... and last week had been a bad one, where he had headaches and fatigue so strong raising his arms had been too much.

One thing after another after another, and now he had this rat’s nest to undo...

He still wasn’t feeling all that much better.

If he were home, he’d just go find Zelda. He wouldn’t even have to ask her; she’d just look at him and gesture for him to sit and take care of it, like she had after he freed her from the castle. It was good for her too, she’d said. She found it grounding, and she liked taking care of him after everything that had happened since...

He had a comb. He’d gotten his hair wet. He even had the fucking horse shampoo with him, but the task felt so daunting and someone was going to walk up on him and...

Someone did walk up, but, in the way he always had, Hyrule just waved one hand and cracked his neck before stripping and dropping into the water without a second look. He didn’t even seem to notice Link’s messy hair. His was never a mess, as far as Link could tell, although it was shorter. He thought about cutting his hair (for likely the hundredth time since he’d woken up) and...

He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, and if he looked like he used to again –

Best not to tempt fate, and his own hollow mind.

“You okay, Wild?” Hyrule asked.

“Do you know what the others are up to?” Link asked, rather than try and answer.

“Sparring again.” Hyrule yawned. “I didn’t sleep well, and you know what Twilight and Warriors are like.”

They’d be busy for an hour, Link thought, and looked at Hyrule again. They were pretty good friends, and he’d always been nice. And his habit, of studiously avoiding any note of his hair was...

Hopefully he was right. “Hey, Rulie?”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Could you help me with my hair?” The words almost strangled him to say. He couldn’t say much more than that, but he didn’t have to. Rulie looked up, startled, then just nodded.

“Oh? Yeah sure. You’ve got a comb and stuff – what’s this?”

“Horse shampoo,” Link said, and reconsidered: the stuff they’d heard about his Hyrule was worse than his sometimes. “You have seen shampoo and stuff, right?”

“Usually I just used, uh, nothing great.” Hyrule laughed. “Zelda’s got better stuff at the castle, although I’ve never had anything to do with the stables. What happened?”

Link could feel him pulling his hair back and carefully picking at the ends. It was a bunch of little tugs, but nothing too painful. One particularly sharp pull left him flinching and Hyrule grunted an apology. He didn’t repeat the question. It hung, quietly between them as Hyrule slowly worked his way through the tangles one bit at a time.

“Was your hair ever this long?”

“A couple times,” Hyrule admitted. “When I was really young, mostly. Some of the ladies in the towns would sit me down and help when it got really bad then I was living with Zelda and they helped me keep it short.”

Link grunted his agreement there. That made sense, and he hoped that was why he was being so nice about this. If he’d had a hard time with his hair before...

Admittedly it sounded like Hyrule had been a literal child, but. Still.

It was something.

“...I didn’t want to ask if you were having a bad time,” Hyrule said, eventually. “I figured you’d let us know when you needed help.”

Link swallowed. “Normally Zelda helps me with it. It was just a bad week. I’m okay. I had a headache.”

Hyrule hummed another few notes then and Link could feel the comb going from almost the nape of his neck down now, the tangles slowly unravelling under his hands. They weren’t done; there was still a ways to go, but the gentle strokes felt good. The tug and pull tingled in a good way, and Hyrule poured more water from a jar over his head.

“Turn your head?” He murmured, and Link closed his eyes and did so.

By the time the others had finished sparring and caught up, Hyrule was brushing his hair through the last few times, perhaps a few more than necessary but Link had no wish to tell him to stop. His headache was, finally, gone, and he could just enjoy a few moment’s rest.