#he is Ready to Snipe

[lanasgirlfr]

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS‼️⚠️

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i love this old man smmm

[sunshinethena]

no one prepared me for the pain i would feel at the end of Hannibal S2

[feroluce]

Obsessing over the new ingirida / nobokai possibilities in pokemas after the pla update because oh my goddddddddd

Just. Irida hanging out with the twins for a few days in Pasio, getting to spend time with them and even become friends, and realizing that this really is Ingo, but it's not her Ingo, at least not yet. But she doesn't really have any way of knowing what to do about this, and she can't stick around long enough to figure it out. She has to go back.

Irida very seriously taking Ingo's hands in hers and looking up at him and telling him that if he ever finds himself at a loss somewhere and with nowhere to go, come to the pearl clan. Come find her. She'll help him, she swears it.

Ingo finds it a little odd, but she says it so sadly (plus there's a cute girl holding his hands dbkxjske) and so sincerely that he can't really bring himself to ask about it. Ingo nods and tells her yes, ok, he promises he'll come find her someday, they'll see each other again.

And Irida looking as though she might cry as she stands in front of the rift, telling Emmet to please, please, take good care of Ingo, spend lots of time with him... Treasure all of it, don't take it for granted, ok?

[sunlitlemonade]

currently losing it at the fact that blunt has a reputation foul enough that sarov goes lmao bestie idk what you're on but they won't care, 'sides even if they do its gonna be too late

[based on this part in skeleton key, page 136]

“My people may worry about me,” Alex said.

“From what I know of Mr Blunt and his colleagues in London, that is unlikely. But it’s unimportant. By the time they begin to ask questions, it will be too late.”

[the-physicality]

.

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[tojisun]

ex-husband price fingers you in front of the mirror because you said your cunt does not miss him and he’s here to prove to you otherwise.

he has you on his lap, your legs thrown over his thighs, exposing your pussy to yourself. all the lights are turned on, of course they are, because how else will you see how wet you are for him?

he starts with one finger—a pretence of your virgin days, back when he had to break you in for his thick fucking cock—and is pleasantly surprised when you can barely fit in three.

john muffles his snort on the crook of your neck.

“new boyfriend’s too small, he can’t even stretch out y’r cunny, huh, sweet thing?”

“sh-ut up,” you mewl, toes curling in pleasure with his thumb circling your clit. “s’none of your—ah!—businesssss—fuck john! john like tha-! like tha-!”

he laughs again as he strokes deep in you, and croons, “y’sure do know how to inflate a man’s ego, huh love?”

you can’t even snipe back, your mind buzzed with nothing but the intense euphoria burning in you, your eyes still trained onto your wet and dripping cunt, and your mouth open for a soundless scream as your pleasure builds, ready to break, so close to tipping—

but john stops.

he stops.

“no-!” you sob, thrashing, squirming on his lap, breaking eye contact from the mirror to try and see him from behind you. but john just squeezes your jaw, making you turn to the mirror again where your eyes meet his through the reflection.

he’s flushed, his eyes narrowed in his own twisted enjoyment.

“not yet,” he says, commanding. unyielding.

you hiccup, feeling so caught in his dangerous games again.

it’s like you never left.

[bywrios]

"c'mon, giddy'up back there," boothill mutters, his knee bouncing restlessly as he resists the urge to turn over his shoulder and check on your progress again. you grumble behind him, one hand smacking his metallic waist, and he can picture the furrow of your brow and the way your tongue sticks out in concentration in his mind's eye. one of the metal panels of his back has been removed, exposing the wires and circuitry of his mechanical organs.

the whole reason for this impromptu examination was the fact that he had been feeling... strange after his last bounty, for some reason. it had involved a high-speed chase in a roofless car, hot on the heels of some ipc scumbag. he’d done his best to dodge whatever shitty bullets the scumbag’s entourage had shot at him, but clearly, something had stuck—which is why he sits between your knees now as you check him up for damages.

his boot thumps on the soft, dusty earth under his heel. “well?”

“hold your damn horses,” you snipe back, muttering under your breath. he can feel a light pressure against the cords and connectors in his spine, the artificial replacement of his nerves. “i need to—oh.”

“what? whatsit?” he asks, a note of urgency in his voice at your silence. he isn’t particularly worried about getting fixed; his bounties ensure he has more than enough credits to spend on spare parts. it’s just that it’s a pain to have to travel to the nearest non-ipc mechanic feeling all funny.

(he ignores the voice in his head that tells him the true source of his worry: that his faulty body might not be able to protect you.)

“what’s wrong?”

he’s about ready to spin back when he hears a choked exhale rush out of your nose, followed by the airy sound of your giggles. it makes him still, but this time out of confusion, rather than concern.

“what the fudge has got you laughin’ your boots off back there?” he grumbles, and you only laugh harder. he glances over his shoulder and sees tears lining your pretty eyes, and then he glances down and sees… some sort of flying insect between your fingers? a very dead, and very fried insect. it had probably slipped in through one of the chinks in his plated skin during the chase.

“i guess you— i guess you could say there was a hardware bug,” you wheeze, free hand gripping onto his shoulder to steady yourself in between your fits of laughter. boothill gives you a withering glare, and plucks the dead, charred bug from your fingers, grinding it to dust between his own. he pretends to be annoyed, lips curled into a frown, but there’s a lightness to him he hasn’t felt in a while.

“hardy har har, yer so dang funny, ain’tcha?” he scoffs, shoving you lightly into the dirt.

you answer him with another burst of sweet laughter, unbothered and too lost in your own mirth, and it reminds him of the sound of the wind blowing through the mountain valleys, and how it whispered into his ears when he used to ride horses and not roofless cars.

with an exaggerated sigh, he lets your enjoyment at his expense slide this time.

(he doesn’t have a biological heart anymore, but even that mechanical thing in his chest can’t bring himself to interrupt you.)

[moonstruckme]

Hii

I have a knee injury right now and it's really annoying cause I'm a dancer and I can barely walk right now let alone dance and I really wanted a fic if that's okay. So reader (like me) is really annoyed about her injury and Sirius or James (I don't mind which one) help her. Could you also include something about them piggybacking her up the stairs (cause I cannot go up stairs right now without dying in pain)

Thanks in advance sweets

Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you're feeling better!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 481 words

James comes into the living room and catches you red-handed with the broom and dustpan. 

He freezes, setting his hands on his hips and releasing a breathless guffaw. “Shit, you’re tenacious.” 

“I thought,” you wheedle, “that since you’re working so hard mopping the kitchen, I could sweep in here so it’s easier when you’re ready to do this part.” 

“And I thought,” counters James, crossing the space between you in a few long strides, “that we agreed you’d rest and let me handle it.” He makes up for the snark with a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before pushing you down onto the couch by your hips. “Turn over the broom, angel.” 

You sigh, holding it out for him. “Agreed is a bit of a stretch.” 

“Your knee and I seem to be in agreement.” He stamps another conciliatory kiss on your head, firm and ardent. “I can see on your face that it’s hurting you. Just give it a bit, stop pushing yourself so hard.” 

“As if you get to talk,” you snipe after him as he goes back to the kitchen. He’d pulled a muscle in his shoulder a few weeks ago, and he’d still insisted on carrying all your groceries himself and lifting heavy things down from tall shelves like recovery was some sort of competition. 

James pretends not to hear you. 

You sigh, big and loud and dramatic, and you hear his quiet laughter from the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” he calls. “Suck it up. I never do my fair share of the chores anyway.” 

“Will you at least bring me the laundry to fold?” 

A beat, and you hear him swing open the door to where the dryer has just finished. “Sure,” he agrees. 

A minute later, your boyfriend is pouring a basket of warm laundry over you on the couch. You smile contentedly, bathed in warmth and softness, until the warm clothes on your abdomen remind you of another concern.

“Um, James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

James sets down the laundry basket, dark brows weaving together bemusedly. “What for?” 

“I have to pee.” 

“Oh.” His expression clears. As much as you sort of wish he would treat this part like a chore, he loves doing this for you. “No worries.” 

He turns around and squats down. Doesn’t even give you the opportunity to hop onto his back, only grabs your thighs and straightens back up with a quiet grunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting so you’re wrapped more securely around him. 

As James starts up the stairs, he squeezes one of your thighs teasingly in his big hand. “Hope you weren’t holding it on my account. You know you don’t need to apologize for asking for a lift, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I know,” you admit. “I think you may like it a bit too much, actually.” 

Your boyfriend only hums. “Mayhaps.” 

[heytherecentaurs]

What a masterclass of D&D combat from the players and the DM.

Brennan did such a good job of making the combat engaging and dynamic. He juggled so many plates and kept his cards close to his chest regarding aspects no one was aware of until near the end.

The Bad Kids maximized their effectiveness and importantly, they stayed on top of their HP better than they ever have before.

Adaine did some really great spellcasting plus the exploding mephits. Her Bigby’s Hand (or whatever it’s called) dealt solid damage and using it as a bonus action after casting is great. Really helped whittle down the purple worm’s massive HP.

Gorgug took all the punishment from a CR 15 purple worm and beat it after already fighting other monsters. Zac was in crit city this episode and he needed to me to beat that fucker.

Fig got to smite and used Booming Blade and spirit guardians to fuck up enemies basically doubling (sometimes more) her damage output every round (Really effective against the swarms.) and she 1v1ed a Wyvern, which is only a CR 6 but she also had other monsters after her because was disguised as Gaven. Really the mix of hexblade, paladin and bard stuff she did was cool. (Bonus action heals were good.)

Fabian as sort of a floating fighter, getting into the mix and fighting monsters wherever needed was so helpful and his flourishes and using his spell slots for his magical sword were great. He didn’t necessarily get the biggest moments this fight but he was integral and they’d have sorely missed him because he killed a lot of creatures. Not to mention the Hangman’s breath and bite attacks.

Riz doing peak rogue shit with haste and coming in clutch sniping monsters. Saving Gavin’s life, being able to ready an action to shoot from hiding and just all the sneak attack goodness. Plus Murph was so good about the test parts. He and Riz both seem to really thrive in stressful situations.

And Kristen who took her role as the primary healer so seriously it kept everyone up and banished a monster for good. Ally has been far more diligent about using Kristen’s abilities this season and it’s been such a big help. Plus truesight wrecked Killerpally’s plot to fuck them.

And they did all of this while answering timed test questions. This is the best they’ve ever played from a technical standpoint. Bill Seacaster would be proud they took his afterschool lessons to heart.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Now, Fallout!AU for Raider!Konig and fem!Reader...

Konig as a raider. Your typical one - wall of meat, muscles, mean motherfucker who doesn't really care who to kill and who to fuck after. It might be from one of the less drug-addicted gangs, most of the shit never works on him anyway. Might be radiation, might be mild mutation - no one cares. He isn't a leader of the gang, never good at working with people and commanding them - but he is good at shooting people and taking their stuff. He is good at spotting and sniping, despite people around laughing at his huge form scrambling behind a stolen sniper riffle. This is how he spots you, actually. A vault dweller - this much is obvious. You can lead him to your stash, a can deep in the ground. Filled with people, vault-dwelling rats - the ones that are too fucking good for this place. Konig thinks he hates them - but honestly, half of the wasteland does. You do look good in that tight suit of yours. Bright blue on the dry yellow of the ground below. he wondered who designed the suits - if people knew that every dumb underground rat would be spotted from at least 3 kilometres away in that bright blue thing. Works for him, though. He flips off the guy who didn't want to spot for his position. His rank in the gang is high enough to just get a guy by his neck and force him on guard duty - all while he is getting ready to catch the little rat. It was a while since he saw someone so pretty - honestly, only Vault dwellers can be considered pretty at this point. Clean skin, moderately clean hair. He knows that if he gets to smell you, you'd have this awesome stench of cleanliness. Would be lovely to push his nose into your hair as he fucks you on his bunk. Might even clean his room a bit so the underworld princess won't be too disgusted at the perspective of being chained to his bunk. A prized property. Pretty helpless thing.

Konig drags you to the compound with ease. You're too startled at the sight of a giant hooded man approaching you with a very mean gun on his hip - not even in his hands, since he is confident he can snap your neck with just two fingers. You whine like a brain calf being split in two at some posh casino far in New Vegas - he brushes his hand over your ass, gripping it. Patting it. You do have a weapon - he disposes of it now, just getting it to his pocket. You freeze when he takes your pip-boy off, snapping it off your wrist with ease. You mouth a little plead with your lips. Konig laughs. You have a Vault location in here - it's funny how such a silly thing is going to be the doom of your people. The gang leader would probably be sad they didn't get to torture you for information, but Konig is making sure the whole gang will be satisfied hearing your moans and cries the whole night. Everyone knows that Konig is a beast - and that if they try to get the leftovers of a pretty Vault girl, they will be used as a target practice next. You do smell good. Konig takes note of breaking into some abandoned building and trying to fetch water and cleaning supplies so you could continue to smell nice. Wants to doll up his pretty Vault snatch - even finds some old, pre-war dresses. Plays house as long as gang allows it. Some of the younger members give you a pitied look, hearing your little sobs every time Konig forces you to move. Some of the older members know that the moans you're letting out aren't the ones of pain. Konig isn't the one to share and to talk, so he never even brags about his girl. Just has her attached to his hip, clinging to his armor since he is the only one who you know here. At least you know him, somehow. At least you know he likes his pretty Vault rat too much to let you get hurt. By anyone but him, that is.

[yutaholic]

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hey! Someone suggested your blog for one piece and I decided to check it out!

I’d also like to make a request

How would the monster trio(+katakuri if you wanna write for him) be with a s/o who always looks at them as if asking them for permission to beat some one up (you can add anyone else if you want) f!reader or gn! Reader whichever one

Headcanons pls<3

Have a great day!

Monster trio + Ace, Law and Usopp with a s/o who looks at them before fighting someone.

hullo, thanks for requesting this! i unfortunately dont write for katakuri but i added law and ace to the mix, i hope it's fine! enjoy this lil headcanons, i loved writing these!! also, using this as a chance to restate that requests are open!

warning: none. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. 

Luffy: All it takes is a glare. It doesn't take long for Luffy to recognise the sparkle in your eyes. He feels it too; the tension building in your muscles, the adrenaline rising up in your veins making your heart beat ten times faster than usual. Lowering his straw-hat to cover his eyes, Luffy simply chuckles in response. He knows your potential and he is curious of the limits your able to reach and break. He takes this as a good opportunity to train and test your powers; nevertheless, he is watching your back and ready to step in.

Sanji: Sanji smirks and lights up a cigarette, making himself comfortable and untying his tie. He knows well that whoever crosses your path is in real danger - and he brags about it whenever he has the occasion to. He is overly proud of you; plus, winning a fight would always guarantee a special treatment from him. Preparing your favourite meal, smothering you in kisses, an endless ramble of praises. He enjoys the fight, making sure you don't get hurt as he meticulously observe your combat moves.

Zoro: Zoro tries to make you back off. Despite his love and respect for you, he would rather let you stay away from the battlefield. He is aware of your combat abilities, he just thinks it would be easier if you'd let his swords deal with it. Nevertheless, it's easy to convince him if you buy him an extra bottle of booze. After all, despite his protective instincts, he enjoys a partner who can fight and protect themselves. Seeing you go feral and win a fight always tickles his senses.. so you might be in for a good, particularly nasty training session afterwards.

additional characters:

Law: Law definitely doesn't approve your conflictual nature. Although he is a little trouble maker himself, he prefers approaching things, and fights, in a more methodical way - having a precise strategy, and more importantly, a reason. Getting caught up in a worthless fight would mean catching the marine's attention, and that would be dangerous. When he sees you joining the battlefield regardless, he sighs and stands back. But if you manage to get hurt.. be ready to hear him grumble under his breath about irresponsible you were as he medicates you.

Ace: You and Ace would meet looks, the same impulsive idea running through the synapses of your brain. He nods in response, a clever smirk drawing on his lips as he transforms the ramble in a challenge.

"First one to land a punch wins."

Usopp: Tries to discourage you from it. He knows you would be perfectly able to win the fight - but he also knows he would struggle to help you. Your fearless nature worries Usopp, and sometimes it makes him wonder how the two of you get so along. Dangerous situation fuel you, whilst he prefers running from them. Usopp would never give you the permission to battle someone if the situation permits a safe escape - a long, frustrated sighs is the only slightly positive answer you could receive. And when you jump head first in the battle, he whines and snorts, ready to snipe the enemy if the situation escalates.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

So This Is Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fake death, some fluff towards the end, inaccurate gun language (please be responsible when it comes to fire arms), dad jokes, smut mdni (18+), praise kink, some shower sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimluation, unprotected sex, creampie, make up sex?

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: Simon is having a bad day...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 8 of The Roommate Series

“…I’m always here for you.”

The words replayed in his mind as often as most things in his life did. He wasn’t sure there was a point in his life where everything was quiet inside of him and he was sure that it would rip him to shreds if things calmed down within him. He thrived in the chaos, it was what kept him alive for so long despite the odds being put against him since he started his career, it’s what gave him the reputation he had currently.

Ghost. He lived up to the name in more ways than one, becoming a highly skilled soldier that seemed to be practically invincible when it came to a mission turned south. A silent, cold killer who made enemies and allies alike nervous of him when they heard his name being said. A persona with the face of the dead, an omen, a reminder, of what’s to come when he appears.

Ghost couldn’t help but like the reputation he had created for himself. He liked the way the recruits would straighten up at the sight of him for fear that he’ll lash out when his mind is a far different place. He likes when he sees someone get uncomfortable when they catch him staring at them as if he could read their minds.

In a sick and sadistic way he liked the fear in the eyes of his enemies when he came face to face with them, when they realize that they're in his sight and they’re not going to make it.

His reputation was the only thing that kept him safe. 

The smell of iron and gunpowder filled his nose as he swept through the building of his current mission. He had a rifle in his hands tightly, eyes trained in front of him as he listened to the garbled mess of words that came through the comms. Behind him was a team, not the 141 but he was used to being put on missions with other sergeants or recruits he had never worked with before. 

He gives out commands stern and straight to the point. He makes them clear, with no room for miscommunication because he’d rather not lose anyone due to his leadership skills. 

The team sweeps through the building, splitting up into the rooms as gunfire fills the air. Ghost continued down the long hallway, executing any enemy that peeked out of the rooms on either side with an efficiency of that of a machine. He barely spared them a passing glance after their bodies fell on the ground, painting the cold concrete floors with dark red blood.

It was just another mission, a routine, another time for him to fall back into the persona and to forget about the man who died so many years ago.

Before long he was by himself. He gave the order to the rest of the team to clear out the remaining parts of the building behind him as he continued forward to find the best vantage point for setting up his sniping position. The sound of gunfire slowly disappeared behind him, becoming just white noise, static like a TV in his ears as he came to the end of the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs. 

He kept his gun at the ready as he took careful steps up the stairs. His mind was set on the mission, your voice had slowly been drowned out by the noise until he found the time to be by himself again.

Ghost made it to the top of the stairs and felt a chill run down his spine. Nothing was out of the ordinary for a building like this; concrete walls devoid of life and barely any light inside. The air was stuffier than downstairs and felt more compact, as if he had walked inside of a padded room. 

His heart began to beat faster and he gripped his gun tighter as he felt that all too familiar suffocating feeling. The darkness didn’t help his mind as he remembered that coffin, his resting place, the one that still held his body and mind, and he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in his throat as he suddenly felt pressure against his chest. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he kept his eyes wide as he scanned the empty hallway lined with lookalike doors.

The lack of sound around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he inched further down. The pit in his stomach grew larger and larger to the point where he was sure he might be sick. No matter how much he wanted to back down and turn away he didn’t, despite the sirens blaring in his mind.

Ghost heard a noise and stopped. 

It was faint sobbing, for a moment he thought that maybe he had just imagined it, but the longer he stood there in complete stillness and listened past his heartbeat, he could hear it. He tried to think if the briefing about the mission mentioned hostages but he couldn’t remember anything about it.

He swallowed hard as he listened to the person cry, his chest constricting tightly as the sound rang in his ears. It sounded familiar, like the made up sounds his mind had created when he thought about his family. The terror in the person's voice sounded like how he thought his mother had cried for mercy before she was murdered. 

He felt sick to his stomach and he started to shake, the urge to walk away strong but the urge to save whoever was in danger stronger.

The closer he got, the clearer the voice became as he listened to the begging, the pleading for mercy. Whoever it was could hardly speak through their sobs as they begged and begged to be let go. 

Simon’s blood ran cold. His feet took him forward in a sprint, unable to think of anything else as he listened to your sobs grow louder, your begging grow louder.

He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Simon slammed open the door with his shoulder, gun at the ready before he heard a gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the faceless man in front of him with quick precision before he searched around the room for you. 

His entire world shattered when he saw you laying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around you.

Simon screamed your name and threw his gun to the floor. The moment he made it to you, he pressed his hands firmly on your stomach as blood gushed through his fingers.

His hands shook, his entire body shook. Panic surged through him as he listened to you cry, unable to take his eyes off your face, your beautiful face that was littered with bruises, gashes and blood that seeped out of your mouth. The sight burned into his skull and he felt like throwing up as his stomach vanished to his feet.

You sobbed, a choked scream escaping your throat as you tried to pull his hands off you in a fit of blinding hot pain. You ripped at his sleeves as tears ran down your face, a look of pure fear in your eyes as you stared up at him like he was your saving grace.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.” He felt light headed. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“They…came-”

He shushed you, his eyes frantic as he placed your hands on the wound to try to stop your blood from pooling underneath you as he fumbled to get his medpack. He barked an order medevac into his comms but all he received was static. He cursed loudly to himself as he found that as his breathing picked up he felt suffocated by the cold air.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Simon tried to pick you up but you resisted. You shook your head, writhing in pain as you cried and gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. The fleeting fear, the instinctual panic that flowed through someone when they knew this was their last moment. The desperation for the pain to stop and for someone to save them.

He couldn’t lose you not after everything, not like this, not in the cold building full of hostiles far away from your home. A place for violence and fear, somewhere where you didn’t belong in the slightest. 

You’d been ripped from your home, you were brought here. You deserve to go back, to be safe, to be alive and uninjured. This was his life not yours, this was his fate, the one that he waited for every day yet it never came. 

You shouldn’t be the one covered in blood, it should be him.

“Simon-” Your voice was weak as you clutched his vest when he tried to pick you up again. 

You shrieked in pain and against his better judgment he stopped. He couldn’t hurt you more than you already were, he couldn't make himself listen to your cries even though he knew he needed to get you to a medic.

“I’m here.” He ripped his mask off so you could stare at his face. “M’gonna help you, gonna get you home, yeah sweetheart?”

Simon stared at your lifeless body and dug his fingers into your arm. He shook his head and your name fell from his mouth in a strained whisper. His voice was broken, thick with despair as his vision blurred with tears and he shook you gently.

When you didn’t stir he clutched your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles as he began to rock you back and forth. He hoped it would wake you, that something would bring back the light that was in your eyes just moments ago. 

He loved you. That had to mean something, you had to be alive because he loved you.

Right?

“Don’t do this.” He pressed his forehead against yours and hugged you closer to his chest. “Please, please don’t do this. .”

A sob ripped through his throat and he cradled your body. Tears ran down his face, streaking the black paint and melting away anything warm that had ever been Simon Riley. He cried louder than he had in years, the mission far from his mind as he held onto your dead body as it was the only thing keeping him present.

How did he let this happen? Why was it you and not him? How many more times did he have to lose someone he loved?

Simon’s eyes snapped open and in an instant he sat up in the bed. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared wildly through the darkness of the room, dull pain piercing him in his side. His breathing was frantic as he tried to figure out where he was while he searched for his gun in his nightstand. 

When he couldn’t feel his nightstand or the gun, his eyes jumped around the room he was in, slowly recognising the items placed about inside and the pictures hung up on the walls. He felt so nauseous when he realized that this was your room that he nearly ran out if it weren’t for the need to see if you were truly gone.

He grabbed the blankets around him and ripped them off the bed in a frenzy.

You had to be here, you had to be alive. He couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else taken from him. He knew this would have to be the last time, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing someone he loved again. There was no way he could forgive himself for putting you in danger, no way that he could live with himself if you had been ripped from him, shot like an animal. 

The blankets were thrown to the floor and you were revealed to him.

You laid comfortably with your back towards him. Your shoulders and chest rose with steady breaths as you were deep in sleep, completely unaware of the fact that Simon was staring intensely at you.

Simon blinked a few times, letting more tears roll down his face as he placed a hand on your arm, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin into his palm. He took a shaky breath and moved his fingers to your pulse where he felt your heartbeat. 

You were still here, you were still alive.

Instead of relief, he found that the panic set in further as he stared at you and resisted the urge to pull you into his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stood up and grabbed the blankets, laying them back on top of you as he tucked you safely back into bed as if it would keep you safe from the outside world.

He left your room as silently as he could despite his stumbling. For a moment he had no idea where he was going, the layout of the flat unfamiliar to him as he hyperventilated.

He finally managed to find his room and when the door behind him shut, he couldn’t help but let out the pained noises that fought against his tight throat. 

The darkness didn’t help and he struggled to find the lamp. He collapsed against his bed, sliding down to the floor as a sob ripped through him. The harder he tried to keep himself quiet, the harder his entire body shook and the faster his breathing became. It was to the point he was sure he’d pass out and he clutched his chest as a deep pain stabbed him there like a knife to the heart.

Tears flowed freely and he was stuck on the floor. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself you were alive, he had seen you himself, he couldn’t get the image of you dying in his arms out of his mind.

He was too slow, he was too dangerous, he got you killed, you couldn’t even defend yourself.

Simon cursed to himself between sobs and heavy breaths. There was nothing else on his mind as he remembered the bloody image of a fate he never wished to see again. 

Why was he cursed to a life of torment? To lose the ones he loved? Awake he was tortured by thoughts of you dying and yet he couldn’t escape that even in his sleep. Deep down he knew that getting attached again would end his life but he had been too hopeful. He had been too ready to believe that maybe life would be kind to him for once and that made him a fool.

A fool that would surely get the one he loved more than anything killed.

~

You woke up to the room being slightly dimmed due to what you assumed was storm clouds outside. For a few moments you shifted further into the sheets, clutching the blankets close to your chest as you felt the dreary morning lull you comfortably back to sleep. 

It was a perfect morning to stay in bed for just a few hours longer, something that you weren't opposed to especially if it meant you had someone to snuggle up to.

You searched for Simon behind you and that was when you noticed that his comforting weight around you was gone. You frowned with disappointment and rolled over, cracking your eyes open to see that his side of your bed was empty, and judging by the fact that the sheets were cold where he laid, he had been gone for some time.

It wasn’t entirely odd to you. Simon was an early riser and now that you knew it was because of his career, you couldn’t fault him for sticking with that routine. However, the past few mornings of waking up to his sleepy and warm touch had spoiled you into believing he’d lay in bed with you for a few moments longer.

If it wasn’t too late, you could try to convince him to come back for an hour or so…

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you pushed yourself out of the bed and groggily made your way out of your room. You were prepared to use all of your charm to win him over, even giving him a few well placed kisses that he couldn’t resist.

You smiled to yourself and made your way into the kitchen where you heard him piddling about, feeling giddy about your plot to get him to be lazy for a morning, until you walked into the kitchen.

The smile fell from your face and you stopped in the doorway, your eyebrows knitting together with concern. Simon was already dressed and had completely covered himself head to toe as he cooked breakfast. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by him already being dressed, but what worried you the most was the fact that he was wearing a face mask along with gloves.

Simon always covered up most of himself when he was having a horrible day. It was a habit you had noticed when he refused to let himself out of his room when he would get back from work and one that made your heart ache.

It had been a while since he had done it and you were surprised he was wearing just a face mask and not one of the balaclavas he had. 

You’re not sure what had made him suddenly feel the urge to cover himself up and for a moment you debated on whether or not you wanted to ask him if he would like to talk about it.

“Why’re you just standing there?” He asked and you jumped from his sudden gruffness.

“Just admiring the view.” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood but when he didn’t reply or spare you a glance, you bit the inside of your lip. “I’m still waking up.”

“Then eat.”

You frowned, unsure of how to take his more aggressive grumpy attitude. You went to walk up to him to grab a plate and maybe find enough courage to place a soft hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, but he turned away from you abruptly. 

Heat washed over you, shame maybe for the fact that he rejected you so quickly, and you watched him set a plate on the table. You didn’t know what else to do other than sit down and eat as Simon sat across from you without looking at you.

The silence was heavy as you began to eat and you watched him carefully, unsure of what happened to make him so cold towards you. You struggled to say something, the words stuck in your throat as Simon glanced at you, your eyes meeting for only a moment before he quickly looked away.

You pushed down the pit in your stomach, ignoring the way the food made your stomach churn and you put on a smile, trying your hardest to maybe get him to feel better.

“Did you already eat?” You hoped that he already had but you knew better, especially with the way he shifted in his seat.

He looked conflicted, as if there was a war inside of himself that raged on silently as he crossed his arms. He still refused to look at you like the very thought of you seeing you made him repulsed which hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. He took a deep breath and you watched his muscles tense before he spoke.

“I want to teach you how to shoot.”

You stopped eating and stared at him with an incredulous look. For a moment you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea because he had to be joking. You shooting a gun? You had never held one before, hell you had never touched the knife he had let alone the handgun in his night stand because you didn’t need to.

You felt nauseous when you realized that he was serious and you pushed your plate away from you as you began to shake your head. 

“Simon-“

“When someone attacks you, you should be ready.” He gave you a serious look, one that you had never seen before that nearly cut through you.

You felt small under his gaze and though you weren’t afraid, you weren’t necessarily the most comfortable. You wanted to hide away and get him to stop looking at you. Was this how people at work felt when he looked and talked to them? Was this the Simon who disappeared for months, the one that never spoke to you when he was gone? You weren’t sure but the complete switch made your head spin and you still had no idea what happened to make him so…cold.

“It’s not like someone is out there to get me.” You scoffed and watched his eyes narrow. “It’s extremely rare, you’re talking about what ifs.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in an hour.” He got up and stalked back to his room, leaving you dumbfounded.

All you could do was sit there, mouth agape from the audacity Simon had. You couldn’t quite believe he had just spoken to you that way for the first time in the three years you had known him and after the past few days. Part of you couldn’t help but feel guilt as irritation rose up inside of you because you knew that something was wrong, but you also knew you deserved better than that.

Simon knew you deserved better than that.

You wanted to know what happened to him. He was hurting, that was the only explanation after knowing how sweet and kind he could be to you. For him to turn around and treat you like one of his coworkers it must’ve been bad but you weren’t sure how open he would be to telling you what happened. In fact, he didn’t seem that open to even talking to you at all.

You wanted to help but there was only so much you could do when he wasn’t physically hurt.

You thought about ditching him for the day, going over to a friend’s or anywhere else. It hurt to want to get away from him but you weren’t too keen on shooting a gun, in fact it made you feel queasy just thinking about it.

Simon wouldn’t let you get out even if you tried. If you left, you were sure he would say that you could do it tomorrow instead then. Once he had his mind set on something it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, unable to stomach the food in front of you anymore. Instead you stood up and threw the rest of it away, trying your hardest to not let your bad mood ruin the rest of the day as you rubbed your temple.

It was going to rain today and you needed a jacket.

~

Dead leaves crunched underneath your shoes as you followed closely behind Simon. The air was thick with the smell of rain and the dark clouds on the horizon didn’t bode well for either of you as you wandered down a beaten path within the secluded woods. You weren’t entirely sure where you were and if it was legal to practice shooting out here but you trusted your roommate enough to not get the both of you arrested.

Neither of you had said that many words to each other since breakfast. You were a little curious as to why he chose the woods instead of a firing range, to which he replied by saying he’d much rather be the one to teach than anyone else. 

It was hard to talk to him through his stilted speech and cold demeanor. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak or be spoken to all that much, which worried you as much as it made you upset. He dragged you out here, the least he could do was tell you why and to not be an asshole about it.

You watched him carefully, eyeing the bag he had strapped over his shoulder and felt yourself go sick again. The walk was only making it worse as anticipation settled in your stomach, your nerves fraying at the thought of having to practice shooting a weapon.

Simon stopped abruptly in a small clearing and dropped the bag off his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to you as he dug through it and you struggled to find your voice as you watched him. 

A lump formed in your throat when he pulled out the pistol and you instinctively took a step back from him. You kept your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving him an uncertain look when he turned towards you with the gun dwarfed in his hands.

He held the gun out for you to take and gave you an expectant look. When you didn’t move to take it, his eyes softened and he sighed as he stepped closer to you with the gun still held out for you.

“Safety’s on, there’s nothing in it.” He assured you in the soft voice you were used to and you bit your lip. “Just hold it for now.”

You hesitated for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, before you grabbed it. Your eyes widened when you realized how heavy it was and you couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he made it look so easy. You held it awkwardly away from you as if it were a dirty rag and you looked up at Simon for him to do something.

The soft look had disappeared from his eyes and he held you under a scrutinizing gaze that made you frown. Simon grunted and he grabbed your wrist with a cold grip. He moved your hands for you rather roughly and squeezed them tightly against the gun. 

“Squeeze it hard and keep your finger off the trigger.” He told you and you did as he said. “Hold it up.”

“Ask me nicer.” You sent him a sharp look but he didn’t look at you as he patted your arm.

“Up.”

You huffed and did as he said, holding it up the best you could without any other kind of practice. You let him stand behind you and put you into the correct standing position, ignoring the way your body grew goosebumps from his touch and instead focused on the bubbling irritation inside of you.

He was nitpicking and if you were experienced perhaps you would’ve understood why but this was the first time you had ever had contact with a real gun and even though it wasn’t loaded you were still nervous to even hold it.

Maybe if he was being nicer you would've been fine with it. You weren’t exactly the type of person to take this kind of talk since you had never been to a bootcamp or ever intended to. In fact, you were far from the right person to ask to shoot a gun and yet he seemed to think you were.

The wind had started to pick up and the darker clouds had moved in above you. The rain couldn’t come quick enough and you ended up ignoring whatever Simon was saying in order to stare up at the sky. 

“Keep your head down and look in the sights before you shoot.” He positioned your head for you and you suppressed an eyeroll.

“Simon there’s no point in this.” You groaned but he ignored you as he walked back towards his bag. “I’m more likely to get myself hurt than someone else hurting me.”

“Not if you pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“If you actually talk to me instead of boss me around maybe I would.”

“If you’d stop complaining I wouldn’t have to boss you around.”

You scoffed with disbelief, giving him an incredulous look as you watched him pull out the magazine to the gun. You shook your head when he turned around to hand it to you and stepped back with a serious look in your eyes.

“I’m not shooting it.” You said firmly, metaphorically putting your foot down on the matter.

Simon tense up and stared down at you with dark eyes. He gripped the magazine firmly in his hand as he breathed just a bit faster. You watched as a look of desperation flashed in his eyes before he held the magazine out for you again.

“You are.” He said, his voice full of enough authority to make your mouth dry “Now take it.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers so stop treating me like one!” You snapped, your voice echoing slightly off the trees.

Thunder rolled above you and you felt a few drops of rain hit your head as you glared at him. You glared at Simon, shaking with anger as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You had spent nearly the entire day being scrutinized, spoken down to, and disregarded. You had half the mind to walk away from him and leave him if it weren’t for the fact that he had the keys to the car. 

You were frozen with anger, unable to move as you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. You were done with this, done with him treating you this way. There was no way you were going to let him get away with this any longer and if he wanted to even think about sleeping in the same bed as you tonight he had better apologize.

“You need to learn this.” He demanded with a glare of his own as if he couldn’t believe you fed up with him. “You have to protect yourself.”

“From who? Who’s coming after me, Simon?” You demanded but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who, just shoot the bloody gun!”

You tossed the empty gun on the ground in defiance and balled your fists. You tried your hardest to stop yourself from shaking but you failed miserably. 

“Simon, you’re having a bad day and I will never fault you for that but there is no reason for you to take it out on me.” You began, keeping your voice as level as possible. “You’re acting like a dick and I won’t let you talk to me this way.”

There was a slight panicked look in his eyes behind the anger as he clenched his jaw.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then tell me!”

Simon tensed up and force. He didn’t say anything and you waited for him to give you some kind of explanation. You saw him open his mouth from behind the mask but nothing came out as his eyes bounced around your face in a frenzy. For a moment you wondered if he was shaking and he clenched his fists tightly before he looked away from you.

He fought with himself, you saw him debate it and you felt more raindrops hit your head.

You waited.

But he was silent.

You shook your head in disbelief as the rain began to pour. The more you watched him tense up and struggle to speak, the more your anger mixed with concern as you watched fear flash in his eyes. You could only guess what was wrong, what had made him so afraid to turn this cold because he refused to tell you.

He didn’t tell you he was in the military before and getting him to tell you that was hard but now he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong for whatever reason. Maybe someone was out to get you, maybe he was trying to make it so you wouldn’t be scared and failed miserably but you didn't know.

Was he scared of what you’d say? That you wouldn’t care even after what happened today? You had no idea and you felt stuck, frustrated that you hadn’t pushed him more earlier, frustrated that he closed himself off from you even though you were so willing to listen.

It made your heart ache and yet you were so hurt.

“What happened?” You were desperate. “Just tell me, let me help you.”

“We’re leaving.” He cleared his throat just loud enough for you to hear him over the rain before he went to pick up the gun.

You clenched your jaw tightly, your stomach dropping and churning into a mess before you made your way back to the car without waiting for him. The cold rain beat against you, soaking through your clothes and seeping into your bones, stealing away the fiery anger while leaving all of the hurt and frustration inside of you.

Tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, causing you to walk faster. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you could hide in the car, not when it was the only way for you to get back to the apartment, not when Simon had to be in there with you.

You were thankful the doors were unlocked when you finally reached the car and you all but slammed the passenger side door as you jumped inside.

The sound of heaving rain hit the car and filled up the silence. You crossed your arms over you as you shivered slightly and felt rain water drip off your clothes onto the seat and floor below you. You fought against letting the tears and you kept yours glued to your wet shoes when you heard the trunk of the car open.

You couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard you tried to. There was no reason for any of this to happen, you had never felt unsafe since you moved in with him and yet he seemed to believe you were a walking target. He had told you he worked around dangerous people, that his line of work was dangerous, but he never told you anything else.

Did he truly think he was that dangerous? That you had to be extra careful and learn how to protect yourself because of him? You could’ve reassured him better since it was clear he was anxious about the topic, but he had been so closed off since the moment you spoke with him this morning. For a moment you couldn’t come up with a reason why he had put up a wall between the two of you until you remembered what he said the night he came back. 

“You wouldn’t be safe around me.”

Your eyes widened and you watched him from the rearview mirror through tears.

Simon was trying to push you away. It was obvious but the reasoning behind it made it worse to come to terms with and you couldn’t help the few tears that rolled down your face as you bit back a sob.

He was pushing you away because he truly believed he was a danger to your safety. He was trying to make it easier for you to leave him because of that, you were sure of it, but the thought made your chest hurt and it had never crossed your mind.

Was he going to if you didn’t? A sob escaped you and you placed a hand over your mouth as more tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Selfish.

It was harsh but that was the only thing you could think to call him inside your head as you shook in your seat. He was trying to make a decision for you and it made everything come crashing down harder, it made everything hurt worse as you thought about him leaving you over the false idea that he would eventually end up putting you in danger.

The driver side door opened and turned your head to look out the window. You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away as the door shut, blocking out the rain once more, leaving you both in silence.

You couldn’t let him get away with it. You couldn’t let him leave, not when you loved him as much as you did.

“I meant it.” Your voice was shaky from trying to force the tears away as you refused to look at him, knowing you’d cry even more. “I’m here for you.”

Simon stayed quiet for a long time. You could hear his strained and heavy breathing from behind the mask, as if someone was choking him. His hands were in his lap as he balled them up into fists while he glared out the window at the rain that pelted off the windshield.

“I know.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the tears away. You swallowed hard and gathered the courage to look at him so you could change his mind, so you could break down his walls again.

You were surprised to see that he was already looking at you, dark eyes full of hurt and guilt that deepened when he saw the tear streaks on your cheeks. He clenched his fists tighter and he flinched as if he was going to touch you but stopped himself.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

You groaned and wiped more tears away as you shook your head. Stubborn, always so stubborn and you wished he could see how much you loved him despite that.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's for me to be with you, through all of it.”

Simon stared at you and for a moment you wondered if he was going to speak. He slipped off his mask and you watched him open his mouth as uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked stuck, as if the words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth before he looked away from you and started the car.

Your face scrunched up and your lip quivered. You turned your entire body away from him and sniffled, trying your best to hold in any sounds while tears flowed freely down your face. You hugged yourself and instead watched the raindrops hit your window as everything became blurry.

The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet, with the occasional sniffles and shaky breaths from you as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. You didn’t dare to look over at him and you knew that he wouldn’t say a word regardless if you did or not. 

It was as if there was a wall between you both, built by you being hurt and Simon choosing to not trust you enough to let you back in. He was determined to keep you out, to push you away in the name of keeping you safe from his burdens when you’d gladly carry them with him.

You were out of the car before it even stopped and you didn’t wait for Simon to follow. You were past caring about how soaked you were and how when you opened the front door you were most likely tracking mud in as well, all you wanted to do was be alone.

You rushed to the bathroom and nearly slammed the door, unable to keep the storm of tears that welled up as a new wave of emotions hit you now that you were in the safety of your apartment. A broken sob left your chest as you placed your hands over your face and crumpled to the floor, trying your hardest to keep your voice down but failing miserably to do so.

The floor was cold and it didn’t help that you were drenched but you couldn’t move from your spot right against the door. All you could do was hug your knees close to your chest and sob into them with the knowledge that Simon was most likely in the hallway listening to you the entire time.

You’re not sure how long you cried for. All of the emotions slowly fell out of you along with the tears and soon you were left sniffling, rubbing your nose and eyes raw as your breathing went back to normal. Enough time had passed that you weren’t dripping water onto the floor anymore but not enough to where the storm hadn’t stopped.

It took you a while to push yourself off the floor and when you did, you went straight for the shower. 

You didn’t waste any time throwing your clothes on the floor, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that they were off your skin, and turned the shower on. As soon as it was hot enough, you hopped in and let the water soothe your skin. You didn’t move to wash your body or your hair, all you did was stand there with absolutely no thoughts in your mind as you were too exhausted to even think.

That was until you heard a knock on the door. 

For a split second you thought about ignoring him, but your heart ached at the thought and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

No matter how mad you were, how hurt you were, you couldn’t push him away.

“Simon?” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain when he stepped inside. You watched him shut the door and his eyes widened when he saw that you were staring at him insteading of showering. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence not as tense as it was before as he stared at you with guilt and regret. You waited for him to speak as he held his hands awkwardly by his side before he glanced away from you.

“I’m…” He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Can I join you?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod. 

Maybe you should’ve, maybe you were being too lenient towards him after how he hurt your feelings but you didn’t want to fight. You were far past your anger, you just wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted to comfort him and you wanted to work out whatever the both of you were feeling despite how you felt. 

And you hoped that he felt the same.

You hid back behind the curtain once he started to get undressed. Your heart rate picked up as you realized that he was getting in the shower with you, that he was going to see you in your most vulnerable state you could be in. You almost scolded yourself. This wasn’t the time to act shy about him seeing you naked for the first time and yet you couldn’t make yourself turn around when you heard him step in behind you.

He stood awkwardly behind you and you stepped out of the way so some of the water would hit him. His knuckles gently brushed against your spine and you shivered before you stepped back towards him, craving more from his touch, more from him.

Simon hesitated to rest his hands on your hips, the warmth from his palms radiating onto your skin and causing goosebumps to form as you drew in a sharp breath while you felt your stomach flip.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded. 

You waited for him to pull you back into him or for him to move closer but he never did. Instead, you felt his forehead softly connect with the back of yours as his hands held onto your hips so gently you wondered if maybe he was even touching you.

His warm breath against the nape of your neck made you shiver again and for a few moments you both didn’t say a word to each other.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke between shaky breaths. 

Your mind and emotions betrayed you as tears welled up in your eyes again. You took a shaky breath as you tried to blink them away. Those hurt feelings popped back up and gnawed against your chest but you also felt relief from his words.

He was being genuine. He was always genuine and you couldn’t mistake the guilt in his voice for anything else, especially as he swallowed hard. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he looked like; the pain in his beautiful dark brown eyes that was sure to stick there any time he looked at you, the crease in his brow that would never cease to exist, and the frown that was plastered on his face. 

“You can’t push me away and expect me to be okay with it.” You said softly as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know.” He mumbled but you shook your head.

Did he know? Did he know that you were there for him no matter what? That you wanted him when he locked himself away in his room after coming home from wherever he went, or when he came home bleeding to death, or when he was anything but happy? 

You weren’t sure if he did, if he truly knew just how much you loved him.

You pulled his hands off your hips as you turned around to face him, your heart breaking when you saw his bloodshot eyes and the deep regret within them. He looked exhausted, more than you had realized after seeing him all day today and you wondered if maybe he had slept last night.

When you cupped his cheek he flinched away from your touch for a split second. His eyes narrowed and you watched as more pain flashed through them when he leaned into your palm. He placed a hand on your hip again, gently digging his fingers into your flesh as your thumb traced the scar close to his eye as if the very touch of comfort made him tense. 

You could tell he was resisting it without pulling away from you. He wasn’t able to hide the conflict in his eyes and it made you nearly sob.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You wondered, desperate to understand why he could give so much without accepting what you wanted to give.

Simon swallowed hard and for a moment it looked like he was going to run away. You saw the same panicked look in his eyes he had from before and you held his face with both of your hands. 

He shut his eyes tight as he was trying to hide his from you and placed his hands on top of yours. He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his jaw tight before he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks and you shook your head. How awful it was to have a mind tell lies like that, you couldn’t believe that he would think you’d find him unworthy of your support, of your love, that he’d thought you would see him that way.

“No.” Your voice cracked and he opened his eyes to look at you. “You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Simon stared at you with uncertainty, his eyes searching deep within yours as if he were looking for the lie when you were being as truthful as you could ever be. He blinked and a tear escaped down his face before you quickly wiped it away, watching as his shoulders sagged before he leaned fully into you.

You locked him into a tender kiss that he hesitated to reciprocate until you made it clear you weren’t pulling away any time soon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your waist, deepening the kiss as he desperately moved his lips against your own as if you’d disappear right in front of him. 

His fingers dug into your skin and you gasped as he caged you to the shower wall. He moved his hands up and down your body, purposefully avoiding any of the places that burned for him as his calluses scratched your skin.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. He was out of breath as he gave you a desperate look, a final plea for reassurance.

“Forgive me.” 

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“Promise.”

Simon pressed another kiss to your lips slower but no less desperate as he cupped your jaw with his large hand. He stole your breath away and pressed his body against yours, rubbing his half hard cock against your inner thigh. 

You gasped when you felt it and opened your legs for him to step as close as he could. Breathy moans escaped your mouth when he peppered kisses from your lips to your jaw and you gripped the back of his neck as he began to suck just underneath your ear.

He rolled his hips into yours and you whined when the length of his cock ran across your slit, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. He grunted and did it again, slowly dragging his cock back and forth to gather your slick across it while he attacked the sweet spots on your neck.

His movements and the steam from the shower made you dizzy. You clung onto him as pleasure built up inside you and you kept him as close to you as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you, to be inside of you.

“Feel so good…” He breathed out as he nipped your flesh and ran his tongue over the spot when you whined. 

Simon trailed hot, open kisses from your neck down to your chest. He was slow as he placed them across your skin, giving every part of your breasts attention while he massaged them. There wasn’t a spot that he didn’t pass over without giving you a kiss that burned into your skin, branding you with the heat of his affection as he continued to move further down. 

He kissed your stomach, his hands running across your waist and down past your hips as he mapped out every part of your body that made you perfect. 

Heat washed over you as he kneeled in front of you. You shivered under his touch as he ran his hands down your legs, he pressed soft kisses across your thighs while he rubbed his cheek against your skin.

He looked up at you, dark eyes full of desire and adoration as water ran down his muscles. Deep within his eyes there was a heated need, something only you could satiate as he made himself comfortable on the shower floor. He hummed as he laid a leg over his shoulder, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze as he moved closer to you exposed cunt which ached painfully for him. However, he didn’t move any close as he placed slower kisses to your inner thighs, sucking small marks on them as you sighed with content.

“You’re beautiful.” His warm breath against your cunt made you whimper. 

“Simon…” You were breathless as he continued to kiss your thighs. “Please.”

Simon swiped his tongue across your slit and you choked out a moan. He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shock waves up your spine as you watched his eyes flutter shut once he started to eat you out. 

He lapped at you like a man starved, desperate to get more of you as the taste of you drove him over the edge. He stuffed his face into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as he dove his tongue inside of you like you were his last meal. His hands gripped your legs tightly, keeping you in place as you writhed against his mouth while loud moans escaped you.

The shower barely hid any of the wet noises that came from your cunt as he pressed you against the wall. He groaned into you as well and barely opened his eyes to stare at you while he sucked on your clit.

“Fuck…” You moaned and threw your head back, your hand falling into his wet hair.

Pleasure was building up inside of you quickly. You gripped his blonde locks as you stared into his hazy eyes as he sucked and licked your cunt until you were dripping into his mouth. You couldn’t find any words to say as his eyes burned into yours before the band snapped.

You came and your head lulled back. Your body twitched and your legs shook as you struggled to keep your footing, Simon having to hold you up instead so you wouldn’t fall. 

Simon leaned back as you came down from your orgasm, watching as your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, face covered in your arousal before he dove back in between your legs.

“W-Wait!” You gasped as you were still feeling aftershocks.

“You can take it.” He grunted into you. “Wanna taste you.”

He held onto you possessively, as if you had a chance to run away from him, while he unraveled you from the seams. He massaged his fingers into your plump flesh, squeezing and grabbing you anywhere he could while his grunts were muffled.

You moaned writhed under his hold. Pain from the overstimulation soon turned into blinding pleasure that had you holding onto his hair for dear life in an attempt to ground yourself.

“So good, fuck you’re so good, Simon.” You babbled out, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.

Simon moaned and he sucked on your clit harder, causing you to throw your head back. His movements became more precise and he quickened his movements while making sure to watch your every move. You didn’t miss the way the desperate look came back into his eyes at the praise, almost as if he was addicted to it just as much as he was to your taste.

He slid a finger inside of you and a choked moan escaped your throat. He moved it at a steady pace, curling it up to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars while he continued to suck on your clit.

The next orgasm came quickly and hard. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went out as your body jerked from the intense pleasure that made your toes curl. You moaned and squirmed, unable to catch your breath as Simon continued to finger and eat you out.

You tried to move your hips away from him, if only just for a second of relief as but he wouldn’t let you leave. Tears blurred your vision and you grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him away while also digging your fingernails into his skin in order to keep him where he was. 

You were stuck on cloud nine with blinding pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body was so hot and you felt your third orgasm approaching rapidly, suddenly the world disappeared and all you could feel was Simon.

When your walls clenched around his fingers once more and he sent you over the edge, you shook violently as not a sound escaped you.

Your body went limp and if Simon wasn’t there, kissing your heated skin as he slid his fingers out of you, you would’ve fallen to the shower floor with him. It took you a moment to open your eyes as the pleasure left your exhausted body as he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

He moved your leg off his shoulder and he held you up as he stood, supporting your weight against him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then to your temple. He peppered more around your face until he kissed you on the lips and held you close to his chest.

You moaned when you tasted yourself from his tongue and he turned off the shower, causing you to open your eyes in a daze.

“Don’t want you to fall on your arse.” He teased and you lazily smiled. “Can you make it to the bedroom?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the daze of the intense pleasure slowly leaving your body and saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. 

You leaned forward and sloppily kissed his chest, listening to him sigh deeply before he hugged you. 

A deep hum resonated from him as you kissed some of his scars, letting your hand cup his jaw as you moved to place a few kisses on his neck. You sucked on the spot that you knew made him fall apart and felt him melt in your touch, he picked you up and stepped out of the shower.

Neither of you cared about trailing water out of the bathroom as he carried you to his room. Your eyes never left one another, even as he gently placed you on his mattress as if you were made of glass despite the fact he had just devoured you moments before.

Simon climbed over top of you and he stared at you as if you were divine, like you were the one who had hung the stars in the sky and dictated when the sun would rise and fall. He brushed his fingertips across your cheek as he studied your face for the thousandth time, a loving look on his face.

You took his hand and kissed each of his knuckles while you stared at him with a warm chest. You studied the scars on his face and the way the water rolled down from his hair, going along the curve of his nose that you know has been broken many times before. 

You were always captivated by his eyes, but now you couldn’t deny the fact that they were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen.

“You’re beautiful.” You repeated back but you meant it with every fiber in your being. 

A smile stretched across your face when you saw his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turned red. You giggled and he bit his lip before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, stealing kisses that made you softly sigh and run your fingers through his hair.

“Never felt this way before you.” He admitted and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Is that a bad thing?” You wondered, slightly worried about what he meant until he leaned back enough that you could look into his eyes again.

“No. Never.”

You smiled and he did too. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your stomach as he leaned back down to kiss you on the lips, this time so much slower than the last as you both held each other. Just being in his arms made you feel safe and loved, especially as he left you in a daze from the tender kisses he left on your sore lips.

You squirmed underneath him as the kiss became heated again. You bit his bottom lip with need as you rolled your hips up into his, causing him to stifle a grunt that made you whine.

Simon kissed you a few more times before he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy clit to make you whimper. He rutted against you until you felt him slowly sink inside your achy cunt with a soft groan.

Pain surged through you from the stretch, his large cock almost too big for you and you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Tears pricked your eyes and you whimpered, causing him to stop moving.

“Doing so good, love.” He cooed softly and you moaned at the pet name.

He waited a few moments before he moved again and you let out moan from the pain and the pleasure that coursed through you until he stopped again. He wasn’t even half way in and you already felt so full even after he ate you out. You wondered if you would be able to take all of him as he stretched you out like no one had before.

Simon kissed your neck and behind your ear as he rubbed circles into your hip while you clung onto him, adjusting to his size as you fought the urge to force more of him inside of you when you weren’t ready.

“What did the cucumber say to the pickle?” 

“...What?”

“You mean a great dill to me.”

You snorted loudly as you looked at Simon with confusion, unsure of why he decided now of all times to tell you a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stared back at you with a twinkle in his eyes before he pushed himself further into you with ease, cutting off your laugh with a moan.

He bit back a groan as well as your face contorted with pleasure and pain as he bottomed out. Both of you were out of breath even though neither of you moved while you waited for you to adjust to his size.

Once you were adjusted you rolled your hips into his and you both moaned.

Simon started slow as he dragged his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed it back in, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace, quickly losing yourself in the feeling of him all the way in your stomach.

He leaned down and attacked your neck, quickening his pace which caused you to let out breathless moans. His hand traveled up to your breasts where he toyed with your nipples while he other hand grabbed your leg and pushed it up to your chest.

You moaned loudly and tugged on his hair as the new angle let him reach deep inside of you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and locked your lips in a kiss. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, already feeling the pleasure building up within you again. It was only amplified when he pushed you down against the mattress to thrust as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess, any thoughts were gone from your mind as he bullied his cock inside of you without any chance to take a breather. 

Simon kissed you anywhere he could. He didn’t spare a single spot, placing kisses on your neck, face and collarbone while he pressed his body against you impossibly close. 

He stifled a whine when you ran your hand through his hair and down his neck, dragging your fingernails across his muscles as you held him. 

You clenched around him, your walls tightening as he continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you crying out his name. You hooked your legs on his hips, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself get closer and closer. 

“No.” Simon grunted when he pushed himself up. He grabbed your jaw and gave you a firm squeeze to make you look at him. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

All you could do was nod as he deepened his thrusts, dragging out a whine from you when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. You writhed underneath him, the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you fast as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“That’s it.” He panted as he grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing it firmly. “Come on my cock.”

Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit you so fiercely you wondered if maybe you looked possessed. You couldn’t see anything as your entire body shook once more, your legs going limp while electricity surged through you. You couldn’t even moan as the air was knocked out of you when Simon quickened his pace.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he came inside you, filling you up and making you full. He lazily thrust himself into a few more times, sending shock waves through the both of you until he finally came to a stop.

Both of you were silent for a few moments as you caught your breath. Neither one of you moved from the other, keeping each other locked in a rather warm and sticky embrace from the sweat that had accumulated on your skin. 

Simon still held your hand, his thumb rubbing into your skin while you squeezed it a few times. 

After a moment of reprieve, he slowly slid out of you. The drag from his cock made you whimper and you were met with his lips pressing soft kisses to yours, causing your eyes to close.

“Clean you up.” He mumbled and you hummed, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Can you get water too?” You asked sweetly as if he’d say no to you.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head and reluctantly let him go after kissing him a few more times. You laid in his bed for a moment, a slight chill running across your skin as you fought back the urge to roll over and fall asleep in the scent of Simon. 

Soon he came back and cleaned you up while you practically chugged the water he gave you. He scoffed and pressed a few chaste kisses on your leg before he tossed the dirty towel on the floor somewhere. Without another word, he climbed into bed with you, tugging you close to his chest before he threw the blankets on top of you both.

Your head rested against his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed his thumb across your hairline. You didn’t say anything as you traced the scars that pepper his skin, smiling to yourself when he would shudder and when goosebumps with form soon after. 

Your hand traveled further down and you very carefully ran your finger across the wound in his side, counting the stitches he had. You frowned when you counted at least nine of them and you nuzzled your head further into his chest as you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach.

“I have nightmares almost every night.” Simon whispered suddenly and your eyebrows knitted together. “It’s rare that I sleep.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a deep sadness crawl into your chest as you fought back the urge to tear up at his words. Instead, you continued to trace the scars you saw and took a deep breath.

“Did you have a nightmare that scared you?” You whispered back and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon curled his arms around you protectively. He shook ever so slightly and you pressed comforting kisses to his chest as he stayed silent for a long while. He swallowed hard and his breathing became heavier while you waited patiently for him to continue or for him to tell you he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You died.” He exhaled sharply and you pressed yourself further into him. “I wasn’t there to protect you and you didn’t know how to.”

There was a beat and he let out a shaky breath. You turned your attention to him, looking up into his eyes to see a pain that made your heart shatter. He wasn’t going to tell you the details, but you gathered from the way there were tears in his eyes and from how scared he had been earlier today, that whatever had happened in the dream left him broken.

You rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“I should’ve told you, I just…” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight. “Can’t lose you.”

You shushed him softly and pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly as he sniffled. You ran your hands through his hair as you tried to soothe him, feeling the fear he had held down since this morning ease into the air. 

He held you back firmly and took a deep breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m here.” You reassured him and he sighed. “I know you’re scared but I’m safe because of you.”

Simon didn’t say anything as he squeezed you and you stayed quiet, mumbling soft reassurances in his ear. 

Even if there was something that had to be done, neither of you were getting out of bed for the rest of the day.

Link to part 9

A/N: the long awaited chapter. Hope you guys like the smut, it was meant to be intimate and passionate but that might've gotten lost in the writing lol. Next one will have less arguments, more fun, but still angst cause unfortunately things can’t always be happy

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst (happy ending to come)

warnings: slytherin reader, some serious emotional dodging and avoidance but you know me it all ends up ok, peter is your bestie and that's just the way it is sorry, no happy ending YET but I promise it's coming this is not a tragedy

a/n: happy ending next week I love y'all too much to leave you with heartache

"Sorry, love," Remus begins to bend down, hand reaching to pick up the book you'd dropped when the two of you collided in the library, but you quickly shoot your own hand out to snatch it up first. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Getting a book," you say plainly. Remus's brows furrow slightly, his eyes drifting over your figure as if to somehow see why you're acting so strangely.

"Alright, dove. We're all planning on studying pretty late tonight - you're welcome to join us. We can always sneak you back down to the dungeons whenever you're ready to call it a night." Remus is quiet when he talks, that soothing, soft air he has about him making your shoulders drop as you lean against the bookshelf next to you.

"As if I can't sneak myself around the castle without your help," you bite back playfully. A smile twitches across Remus's lips as he thinks, just for a moment, that you're back, that you'll follow him up to his common room and spend the night laying on a couch with him, your legs slung over James's lap while you throw wads of paper at Sirius's head. His heart thumps a little painfully when he realizes that he can't remember the last time you've done that with them - he can't remember the last time you've hung out with them at all. 

It's as if you remember that fact at the same time he does, as the faint smile slips off your face and you straighten. "I can't tonight," you say kindly. "But thank you." Remus blinks as you begin to move past him, your polite voice ringing through his head. Like we're strangers, he thinks weakly. Except you're not even that nice to strangers.

Remus is busy slouching against the nearest bookshelf and wondering what they possibly could have done to make you avoid them so desperately but so kindly when he hears you let out another sigh from where you've walked past him.

"Wow," Sirius drawls as Remus turns to see him and James standing in front of you and you pointedly looking past them, like you're a trapped animal searching for the nearest escape route. "I'd almost forgotten you go here still." Your gaze snaps to Sirius and you narrow your eyes at him.

"It's good to see you," James interjects, seeing the two of you size each other up and eager to avoid a showdown between you and Sirius. "How have you been, love?"

"You see me in class almost every day," you snipe back at Sirius before turning to James. "I've been busy, and I still am now so - if you'll excuse me." With that, you slip between the two of them, exiting the library swiftly. Remus sighs and Sirius scowls at the now empty doorway, James opting to look down at the floor, staring dejectedly like a kicked puppy. No doubt you're holing up down in the Slytherin dorms all night now - as far away as you can get from them. Sirius smoothes a hand over James's unruly curls as Remus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"We'll figure this out," he says gently, and as Sirius looks at him, he begs himself to believe it.

"You lost, Pete?" You don't look up from your book as Peter plants himself in the seat opposite you, frowning at you.

"Like we've never had breakfast together before," he huffs back, and you can't stop the smile that flits across your lips at the confidence that he's so clearly been nurturing. You close your book with a thump and place your chin in your hand, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. "Half the time, you're at the Gryffindor table. It can't be so different for me to come over here."

"Hm, maybe it's not," you shrug, picking your book back up to toss it across the table at him. "Read the back of that. You can borrow it when I'm done - I think you'll like it." Peter picks it up tentatively and gets about halfway through the synopsis before he's dropping it back on the table and crossing his arms.

"You're making them miserable," he says bluntly. You pout in a mocking sort of manner, but Peter's frown tells you that he doesn't believe you're as heartless as you typically let on.

"I thought you just came here to have breakfast with me," you switch tactics. 

"Tell me what's going on with you," he pushes. You straighten up in your seat.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"I have - they don't know. Every time they try to talk to you about it, you find some reason to run away."

"Would you like to see that first hand?" 

"You can't run away from me. I'll cry," Peter insists. You sniff indignantly, mostly because you know he's right. The two of you stare at each other for a long time, and it's to your surprise that he doesn't waver. Your heart does something strange in your chest when you realize that his determination may be because this is more serious than you'd thought - you're hurting them more than you thought.

"They need to get over me, Pete," you say quietly.

"Why?" He presses.

"Because if they don't then this gets messy. None of us want that," you insist. Peter softens a bit, looking sympathetic.

"It's already messy." The bite has left Peter's voice as he reaches to pat your arm across the table. You look at his hand pointedly and he's reminded swiftly that anyone else who reached out to console you like that would get a smack from you. He smiles as he thinks of the kindness that lives in you that you seem to be blind to.

"I'll talk to them," you sigh, leaning forward to let your head thump down onto the table. Peter pats the top of your head gently and, for that, he does get a smack.

"James," your voice makes him stumble to a stop, whipping around to look at you so fast that you nearly run into him, sidestepping him at the last minute as he looks at you, bewildered.

"Are you talking to me?" He asks, confusion and surprise making his voice thick. Something painful twinges in your chest at his shock. Of course I am, you want to say. Who else would I ever want to talk to?

"Yes," is all you end up saying. James shifts on his feet and looks at you a little wearily.

"Are you ok?" He asks and a breath leaves your lungs quickly. 

"I'd like to talk to you… if you have a moment?" James looks at you strangely, but he just nods and leads you out of the hall to the quiet courtyard. There's no, of course I have time for you, pretty thing. I always have time for you. It's just James, stiff and silent and hurting… because of you.

"Peter says I'm making you all miserable," you say bluntly, regret immediately seeping into you at the way James flinches, sitting on the bench in front of you slowly. You stay standing in front of him, looking down at the way he runs a hand through his curls.

"It's just," he begins, looking around as if to find the answer somewhere, or maybe just to find some way of getting away from you. "If we knew what we'd done to upset you then maybe we could make it better. You're just freezing us out, lovely, and that means we can't fix… whatever it is that's happened."

"It's not…" Now it's your turn to look around vaguely, wishing you could get out from under his sharp gaze. "It's not anything you've done. It's just - it's the way things go sometimes. It's ok, James, you just have to move on." But James's face hardens at that, a sternness you're not used to overtaking his features as he stands so that he can look you eye to eye. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him.

"That's what you want us to do? Just… move on? Forget about you? Pretend we were never friends?" The sombre tone in his voice doesn't suit him, and neither does the timid hurt in yours.

"Are we friends, James? Is that what we all are?" James blinks at that, taking a step back and sitting back down onto the bench rather abruptly. When he looks up at you this time, there's something akin to remorse swimming in his eyes.

"Is that what it is, lo-" the pet name dies on his tongue as he presses his lips together firmly. "I'm sorry. I thought - we all thought that you felt the same way about us that we do about you. We thought… we thought we were all more than friends with you and that you… I'm sorry. We never dreamt of making you uncomfortable." You scoff at his words, shaking your head fondly and toeing at the dirt by his feet with your shoe.

"Uncomfortable?" You say disbelievingly. "Please - you three are the biggest gentlemen I've ever met. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried." James's shoulders sag in relief, but the look he gives you is still that of a lost, confused puppy. You look past him to see a group of students hurrying to their next class and open your mouth to remind James that the two of you also are officially late, but he speaks before you can.

"Then what is it? Please, just… what did we do?"

"It's like I said, James… it's just a bad idea. It's wrong and I can't do this. I… we have to get to class."

But James doesn't go to class that day. He sits on that bench, staring at the place you'd been standing in, until Remus and Sirius find him that evening. And as the two of them tug him up and inside, all he can think of is how they really have lost you.

[tojisun]

I’m soooooo obsessed with your poolverine! Especially where Logan is fucking reader while Wade watches!

But what if Wade gets so desperate that he cums untouched just humping his rosey leaking cock into the air as he watches Logan fill you round after round

teehee thank you!! and this is so delish oh my goood <33 // cw: SMUT; afab!reader; poly with set power dynamics (dom logan, sub reader n sub wade); voyeurism; praise kink // divider by @/plutism

it’s—

it’s heinous, really, how wolve-fuckin’-rine could just go for hours fucking you, breeding you, while leaving wade leaking like a motherfucker. tearing up too, sure, but he’s still got his mask on so they can all pretend that he isn’t truly crying.

(he’s actually weeping but, well, semantics.)

it started the way it always does.

“stay there, bub,” logan sniped, his grin just a bite too mean, but wade didn’t even fight back because the three of you are used to this back-and-forth; of logan taking you like even after all these years, he still had to stake his claim, while wade was made to wait.

after all, this game is one of a hunt; it starts with wade waiting, raptly watching the way logan devours you, before being allowed the scraps—licking logan’s cum off your cunt, wade’s tongue pushing you to another shaking orgasm.

a hyena that is allowed to feast after the lion had its fill.

but it was different today—logan was more mean. he was more impatient to wade.

logan kept going; fucking his thick fingers in your cunt, crooning how he was doing this for your own good.

“shh, yer not ready for pups yet, darl,” he hummed, a heavy hand pressing down on your stomach to stop your thrashing; holding you down to force his thick fingers in, and scooping out his cum amidst the squelches of your cunt.

you keened, fisting the sheets as tears leaked out of your eyes, wetting your already-damp cheeks.

“s’too much!” you cried, unable to stop your hiccupping. “l’gan, please!”

but logan just nuzzled his maw on the inside of your thighs, puffing out breathy chuckles.

wade was straining then, his grip breaking the wooden arm rests. he ignored the splinters digging into his flesh, unable to do anything that wasn’t watching.

waiting.

he was slowly realizing that he would not have his turn today.

logan has you in a mating press now.

you’ve yelled so many times, warning logan—warning them—that you’re cumming but there was no gushing squirt nor trickling cum, and the two of them realize with hitched breaths that logan’s finally fucked you into dry orgasming.

it was a delicious sight, one that pushed wade to finally free his cock from inside his suit.

logan had shot him a gleeful look, his ravenous eyes tracking down the mess that wade has become—heaving chest, leaking cock, mask finally damp with his tears.

(you’ve glanced at your lover too, devouring how he looks, ever so patiently waiting even when he’s been denied for hours now.

wade always chirps. he’s always filled the silence with his chatter, but he’s been so, so quiet today. like he’s at a loss for words, unable to sound any more that isn’t ragged wheezes. like by staying quiet, he’s able to force himself to not jump you or to not touch his own cock.

fuck, what a good boy wade is.)

“almost, bub,” logan murmurs to wade, humping his cock in you like he’s affirming his own words. the action forces another choked moan out of you, and wade’s cock jumps, pre- dripping down his length.

logan tracks it throughout.

“yeah?” wade finally rasps out, his voice sounding so utterly broken. “y’fuckin’ swear?”

logan rolls his eyes at his words before huffing a fond laugh.

“swear on it,” logan replies, licking at his salty lips.

he pauses, turning his attention back to you. he ruts his cock in, nudging at the pudgy walls of your pussy with a pleasured hiss.

(you’re an unbelievable marvel, peanut. all soft and sweet.

all so delicious.)

amidst your high-pitched squeals, logan shoots wade another glance. he looks even more hungry now, and wade doesn’t get to ask his stuttered ‘what?’ when logan croons, “‘fore that, won’t y’cum for me, pool?”

wade’s body jumps to obey the order, only—

“but no touchin’ yerself.”

the whine wade lets out is so pathetic and broken, but it only makes logan smile wider, like he knows wade would be a good mutt and follow his command—

jesus. thinking about logan praising him just made him ultra-horny.

wade shuffles on his spot without a word, legs parting even wider to make it easier for himself. he’s so busy squirming at the feeling of the cool air wrapping around his cock that he’s missed you and logan changing positions on the bed—you’re riding logan now, your back to his chest, with logan’s chin hooked on your shoulder as the two of you watch wade.

wade curses underneath his breath when he finally looks up, and it tickles a giggle from you. it quickly peters into a high keen when logan fucks you up the length of his cock before dropping you down, using gravity to sit you snug and stuffed full.

fuck.

wade’s bitten moans spill into the hot space between the three of you, and he wonders: between you and wade, who is logan’s prize?

whose keening desperation is logan watching?

wade humps at nothing, unable to stop himself anymore. he times it with logan’s manhandling of your body—thrusting up when logan grasps at the back of your thighs to lift you up from his cock; then pressing back down on the couch when logan drops you back to engulf the entirety of his length.

wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that it doesn’t even take a while before his whole body is locking, pleasure and desperation mixing like a vice to grip at his body.

his orgasm builds—

“cum f’me, wade,” logan sings, sounding so utterly soft like he’s not in control of both you and wade’s pleasures, but wade has always been logan’s good boy. always been desperate for logan. always—

his orgasm rips him apart—that is the only way wade can explain it.

it wracks his body with unimaginable tremors, like wade’s body is undergoing its own earthquake. he nearly blacks out at the pleasure, and it should be embarrassing—it will be, later when logan’s cock is in his throat and your strap is fucking wade’s hold, and the two of you are murmuring how wade is your precious and desperate little cum slut—but right now, he basks in the pleasure and the pride shining in logan’s eyes.

jesus fuck. that was good.

biting a rock bcuz this one rlly had me sweating like mmmmy god

im so sorry if this is bad 😣 wrote this while walkin’ around the mall so it might be choppy n clipped in some parts GAH

wade gets a turn (somewhat)