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localkiss · 7 months

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Heavenly sin

virgin pastor's son!leon kennedy x virgin fem!reader

cw: guilt!! p in v, porn watching (has some "intense" sex ig??), needy sex, virginity loss, creampies, thinking about god during sex, humping (dry at one point), oral (f receiving), awkwardness, CHECK-INS!!!, dirty talk, begging, soft ish dom!leon, pet names, mentions of daddy kink but only once, pregnancy mentioned a couple times, Leon's a sweetheart, goofy ending, rough ish treatment only once, confessions!!

wc: 6k...🧍🏻‍♀️

note: barely proof read and I don't know shit about church or anything like that... Lmk if I missed any tags! Also inspired by @moolvn's bot!

@valkyrurr @rigorwhoring @marymustdie @tatumrileyslover @frostywintersnow @queenofstresss haii yall ! :3

It's around 10 in the morning, and you're dressed in a flowy black dress with flower patterns on it. Perfect for church and for this wonderful spring weather. Pulling your hair back into a low ponytail, you get out of your parents car. They have already gone inside the church.

Walking briskly to the entrance, you take note of the flowers that are planted on each side that're beginning to bloom in the glowy sunlight. You make it in time to sit next to your parents before the prayer begins.

You bow your head and begin to listen to it. Soft shuffling is heard, and then there's a warmth on your right side, as if a heater were turned on.

Peaking out of your right eye, you see the pastor's son, Leon. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a white button up. He tilts his head towards you and smiles, mouthing, "Hello."

You smile and shake your head, closing your eyes to listen in on his father recite a prayer, so that the Holy Spirit will help us all understand God's words.

Despite trying to listen to him preach, your mind wanders off to the boy next to you. How his muscles ripple underneath his shirts. (which are always fitting for him. Like how?) And the way his beautiful oceanic eyes shine with purity. Especially when he's preaching about how God is constantly saving and bettering him and how important he truly is in his life. The way his brown hair flows in the wind and how it falls into his eye whenever he looks down.

It's all beautiful to you. You'd rather worship Leon than God. Would it be a sin to worship man instead of the Lord? Probably.

Every time you spoke with Leon, you felt dirty. You were filled with these disgusting, sinful feelings. You were afraid of it rubbing off on him and getting into trouble. Getting called the devil. Shunned and kicked out of the house for having feelings you didn't know how to fucking handle.

After all, you were only human. One with needs, thoughts, feelings, and insatiable cravings for a certain man beside you.

Once the pastor stops the prayer, everything else goes by quickly. You try not to stare at Leon while his father is reading aloud hymns. But it's impossible.

He catches your eye and flashes you a boyish smile. You look away. It's quite embarrassing to have been caught staring at him. You couldn't help it.

A couple hours later, the service ends. You get up and stretch your limbs, ready to leave.

A large hand grabs onto your forearm. Warmth surges through your veins, all the way up to your midsection.

Turning your head, you see that it's Leon.

He lets go of you with a smile. "Are you busy today? I was wondering if you'd like to come over."

Biting your lip, you think for a moment. Looking over at your parents, they give you a nod of approval.

"I'm free. I can come over today."

Both of you walk towards the exit, and he opens the door like a gentleman. You mutter a small "thank you" and step outside.

The cool, light breeze washes over your body like a cold shower. It feels refreshing after being in a stuffy room for more than an hour. Breathing it in and letting it out, you turn towards Leon.

He squints at you with a small smile, motioning to follow him. You oblige, putting your hands on the bottom of your dress and bunching up the fabric so that it doesn't fly up.

By the time you guys make it to his house, your feet are dying in the black flats you're wearing. Rubbed raw on your heels by your pinky and big toes.

You sigh in relief as you enter his house, slipping your shoes off by the door.

The both of you walk into the kitchen and grab a cup of water. Heading upstairs to his room. You try to push down the nerves and excitement bubbling in your guts, but it's so hard.

All you guys ever do is read, listen to the radio, and talk about your guys's jobs. Not all exciting, but laying in his bed and being so close to him is what gets your panties soaked. Maybe you are the devil's spawn. Getting aroused by just being in Leon's vicinity. It's bad. Real bad.

He opens his door and walks in, laying down on his plush queen-sized bed. His hair falls to the sides of his face as he closes his eyes. Breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly.

You sit on the bed, eyeing him up while his eyes are closed. Noticing the way his veins on his hands are popping out, the small little freckles that paint his face and neck, and the way his lips look so velvety.

Wondering what it would feel like between your legs, your calves, and your neck. You shouldn't be thinking about him like this. It's wrong. But it feels so right.

"So, uh, what are we going to do?" You mutter quietly, tearing your gaze away from the white man beside you.

"I thought that we could just hang out."

"Okay." You scratch your head for a moment, looking at one of the posters on his wall. It's a poster for The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time. It's probably one of the only games his parents approve of.

"Actually, hold on." He sits up slowly and begins to walk towards his desk, fishing something out. He holds up a CD with a grin. "I found this lying around on the bookstore floor. I thought that we could check it out."

Motioning with a nod of his head towards his computer. The thick monitor has the circular silver Dell logo on it at the bottom. Paired with his grey and black mouse.

Popping it into his PC as it whirrs on, you snatch his swiveling chair, making him sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair next to it. Maybe you should get a new best friend, thinking about how you come over so much that he has gotten another chair just in case you guys get on his computer.

You take over and open the Windows Media Player, then double-click on the CD's name. Spice it up in the bedroom! What an odd name.

Turning up the volume on his mini speakers that're alongside his monitor as you wait for the media to load.

A woman and a man appear in the frame, with a messy bed behind them. She's hardly wearing any clothing, only her undergarments and stockings are on her figure. Meanwhile, the man is only dressed in his briefs.

You feel your cheeks burn red hot, swallowing thickly at the video. Afraid of what's going to happen next and afraid of looking at Leon after this surprise of a CD, you continue to look straight ahead.

They don't even introduce themselves, but they say one thing: "Here's how to spice things up in the bedroom. Watch and learn."

Shifting in the cushiony chair, you unconsciously grab onto the armrests.

The next part shows the woman lying down with her legs spread open. The man walks into the frame and sits on the floor next to the end of the bed. Putting his face in between her legs, he kisses her thighs. Trailing up to the bend of her knees and then to her ankles. Repeating the same for her other leg.

Then he begins to leave small bite marks and bruises on her inner thighs. With each of them, her hips jump, and small moans leave her lips.

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your most sacred parts ache with need. Hoping Leon doesn't notice it.

But he did, just didn't want to point it out and embarrass the both of you even more than you guys already are. He's always staring at you subtly. He's not doing any better on his end, cock filling out in his jeans, begging to be freed from its confinement.

He's just thinking about the kind of noises you'd make if he kissed you there. But he shouldn't think about that. His heart sinks into his stomach, feeling guilty for even having those sorts of thoughts about you from time to time. He wanted to baptize himself again and again until those thoughts clouded him no more.

Leon always had to shower in cold water to make all of the pent-up need go away from his dick. He was afraid to touch himself. Especially to the thought of you. He thought you didn't deserve to be sexualized. How wrong it is to even imagine your lips on his! How soft and plush you'd be against his body.

Feeling like the devil has made its way into both of your bodies. Lust coats both of your frontal lobes, coaxing you into continuing to watch this sinful CD.

The man begins to lick and kiss her panties which makes her noises grow louder and breathier. You hope to God that his parents don't come home anytime soon.

He slips her panties off, and her precious parts are exposed to the camera. Leon makes a small gasping sound, and you snap your head towards him.

"Leon, I.. I don't know if we should watch this. This is... wrong. I feel dirty, Leon." You search his eyes, hoping he'll agree, but he just blinks slowly at you.

"I-I think we should continue. Don't act like this doesn't pique your interest," he mutters back. His eyes are slowly beginning to darken.

Turning your focus on the screen, you hear him noisily slurping away between her thighs. The woman begins to get louder, and her fingers slot through his hair and pull him closer.

She yells out, "I'm cumming!" And soon her legs squeezed shut on his head, her body convulsing and lunging forward to curl in on itself.

"Fuck baby, that was so hot," He comes up and kisses her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and flipping her over onto her stomach. Fumbling with his black briefs, tugging them down and stepping out of them.

You squirm uncomfortably, not sure if you can handle seeing a random man naked. But you gulp down the bile crawling up your throat, mixed in with sickening guilt.

His cock stands up to attention, the tip as red as a tomato. A patch of hair surrounds it, leading down between his legs. He strokes it a couple of times, lolling his head back with a loud groan.

"You ready, slut?" Tapping himself against her folds.

"Y-Yes sir, I'm ready." The woman frantically nods and pushes up on her elbows, watching him sink into her hole.

He grips her hair as soon as he's fully sheathed inside, pulling her towards him. Making her see how they're connected. You bite your lip as you watch this couple go at it for about five minutes. Watching them change positions and get louder and louder with each minute that passes by.

He puts his hand on her throat and slaps her face, breasts, ass, and privates. It all makes you feel fuzzy inside, like you drank too much alcohol. The world is slowly starting to spin, with all thoughts going straight down between your thighs.

But the way he talks to her is what really gets you.

"You like that slut? Fuckin' taking daddy's cock so well, fuck."

"Good girl. I know you can take it."

"Yeah, cum on me, baby, squeeze this fat dick."

"Stupid fucking whore, practically crying for me to creampie this tight little pussy. Isn't that right, baby? God, you know you want my cum stuffed in you."

Her punched-out moans—the way she's clawing at the bed and sometimes at him—is what gets Leon excited. The way she can't even say anything remotely coherent to the man gets him so hard, it fucking hurts. Leon's boxers are practically stuck to his cock.

Leon's hand drifts towards his groin, shifting it so it doesn't press against the zipper of his jeans. He lets out a soft hiss, putting a hand to his mouth as he slumps back against the wooden chair. Leaning onto the left armrest.

Your ears pick up on Leon's strained noise, and you pull your knees up to your chest, breathing heavily between them. It's almost over, you think to yourself. Just a couple more minutes, and we can do something else. Forget about this, and maybe read the Bible to cleanse our minds.

The guy on the screen pulls her up so her back is flushed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her throat to keep her there. Her body is shaking uncontrollably, and he groans deeply, thrusting a couple more times before he comes to a halt.

"Fuck, baby girl, fuck. Take it. Mmhh, I want to get you pregnant so bad. Gonna suck on those fat tits until they're squirting milk into my mouth. I'm gonna love seeing you so swollen and full of my seed. God damn."

That's it. He pulls out of her, and you can vaguely see a white liquid pooling out of her and onto the bed. Her body is so red and bruised. It makes you take a deep breath.

By clicking out of it, you eject the disk and put it on the desk. Quickly shutting down his PC.

Both of you sit there in silence for a little while. Afraid to look at one another.

The air is so thick and hot, as if someone turned a heater on. It would make sense, as both of you have red faces and sweaty palms.

Leon's the first one to clear his throat and shift in his seat. "So, um. What did we watch?"

"For heavens sake, we just watched two people make love, Leon!" You whisper-yell at him, looking directly into his eyes.

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and looks to the side, clearly embarrassed. "Right."

You get up and flop onto his bed, face first. The coolness of his sheets is washing over you like an ice pack.

Leon sits next to you, practically burning his gaze on your thighs. Lost in thought of the possibility of doing something like what you both saw just mere moments ago. His hips are bucking upwards, seeking relief. Looking like a damn fool for humping the air.

"Do you think that felt good? Would God like...allow them to seek pleasure like that?" You mumble into the bed.

"I think so, but I don't know if God would be happy if they were to continue..without repenting for their sins and asking for forgiveness."

Yeah, you figured he would respond like that.

"I feel gross, Leon."

"Me too."

You turn on your side and look him up and down slowly. "Are you... aroused?"

Leon gulps and tilts down to meet your gaze with a small nod.

"Me too." Your voice is soft and hushed. Rubbing your thighs together for some relief.

At this point, you don't even care. God this. God that. Those women at the church don't seem to care when they get pregnant. They just pray and repent for their sins and move on with their day like nothing happened. So, God doesn't fucking care if you have intercourse or not. So long as you ask for forgiveness.

His baby blues drop to your lips and back up, licking his own lips. Then, he leans down and boxes you between his firm body and the plush bed.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him tremble above you. Heart thumping wildly in your ears, wondering if he can hear it too.

Unconsciously, your legs spread open to accommodate his hips. He shifts his weight nervously, his groin settling on top of yours.

Both of you moan and buck your hips towards one another, wanting more. Becoming insatiable beasts filled only with lust and need. Logic? God? Who needs that when you have horniness on the brain?

Leon groans and buries his face in your neck, panting hotly against your skin as he begins to dry hump you. "Please... It-It hurts. I'm sorry." He stops himself from rambling on, nosing up to your earlobe.

"Leon, it feels really good. Don't—don't stop, please."

His hips stutter, and he lets out a soft whimper, touching his forehead to yours. "May I... may I do what the video showed, to you?"

"Yes," you say as you connect your lips to his, tangling your hands into his thick locks of brown hair. Lightly pulling on it, earning you a groan into your mouth and a thrust against your clothed mound.

Tongues uniting sloppily, moans spewing out, and desire floating in the air. A perfect recipe for disaster.

He sits up on his knees, his eyes blown out, his lips red and glossy with spit. How can he get even prettier? It's not fair. It really isn't. God really gave him the best of the best, honestly.

Leon quickly made work of his button-up, throwing it across the room. His wife beater is the only article of clothing shielding you from seeing his chest and abdomen. What a shame. Though you do see a small silver chain, most likely it is his cross that he always wears, no matter what.

Breathing out of his mouth like his nose is fucking clogged, he hesitantly reaches up to the hem of your dress. "May I?" He whispers, pushing it up to where your shorts stop at your waist.

You nod, your hips lifting up to help him get rid of your dress. It soon hits the floor next to his shirt. Immediately feeling embarrassed, you cover your black bra with your hands.

Leon just stares in awe, his hands slowly trailing up your sides and tracing every contour and bend in your body.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His thumb feels nice and is also ticklish where the sun doesn't see your body. He carefully removes your arms away from your bosom, kissing the inner parts of your wrists and making eye contact with you for the entirety of this undressing.

You gasp as he kisses down to your clavicles, making sure to take his time mapping out your figure with his lips now. Dipping down to your cleavage, his hands grab ahold of your waist, thumbs rubbing against the wire of your bra.

Leon presses his lips across your entire chest, making your skin buzz and your soul leave your body.

Never in your life would you have imagined Leon doing this to you in his own bed.

He fumbles with pulling your cups down, trying to get rid of the bra. "Can you, um.. take this off?"

You lean forward and unclip it, letting it fall forward into your lap. Getting your arms out of the straps, you are now topless in front of him. Topless in front of someone for the first time ever.

God is getting ready to punish the both of you for sinning, and you know it. Closing your eyes tightly for a few moments as you try to battle with continuing or just leaving Leon to deal with his own battle. That would be just mean. And if you were going to sin, why not together?

Gulping down the acid that clawed its way up your pipes once more, you shake off the guilt as much as you can. Opening your eyes, you see Leon getting closer to your chest. Ready to plant his love on them.

He slowly kisses around your areolas, nosing his way from breast to breast. You let out a nervous giggle as he makes eye contact with you as best he can.

Finally making contact with your nipples, he dips his tongue out and swirls around it. Pulling away with a soft 'pop', you card your fingers through his hair.

"Did that feel good?"

"Yeah, it felt really nice." You give him a shy smile, and he returns it.

Leon does the same to the other one before leaning back and admiring you once more. "You are honestly beautiful."

Covering your face with your arms, you push him with your knee, mumbling an embarrassed "thank you." You still have your manners, even for being the devil's best friend.

Some shuffling, and you peek through your arms and see he's taking off his white wife beater. You bite your lip and shift to your haunches, running your hands up his abdomen. Mesmerized by the way his muscles tense under your fingertips, dipping down to a small patch of hair trailing down beneath his jeans.

Smiling up at him, you wish to return the favor. Putting your lips near the belt of his pants, kissing each of his hip bones softly. His body twitches towards you, and he lets out a broken moan, putting his hands on your shoulders. You decide to be experimental and graze your teeth all the way up his stomach, stopping at his chest. Leon's sounds are going straight down south; you'll be surprised if your shorts aren't completely wet by now too.

"Can I?" You grab ahold of the button on his jeans, toying with it. Asking him for permission to undress him as well. He shakes his head, yes, and you immediately start undoing his fly. With a soft gasp, you see his bulge with a wet spot near the tip, staining his dark blue boxers. You continue to tug his pants down to his thighs so he can do the rest himself.

Leon's pants join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shimmy your shorts and tights off. Both of you dressed in your undergarments.

You lay back, eyes on his cross necklace, hoping that God will accept you both as you are after this experience. Making love before marriage isn't acceptable, and you've been told your bodies are sacred temples and to not let anyone in or touch you inappropriately. Both of you would be shunned, and God knows what else would happen.

Leon begins to kiss his way down to your ankles and back up between your thighs. Slowly breathing in the scent of you. Pressing a few on your clothed mound, making you squirm, your thighs daring to close on his head. He gently pushes them away and up as he leaves little love bites where your legs connect to your most sacred spot.

Moaning softly, you cover your mouth. Your eyes dare to roll back into your head as you try and watch Leon explore your features before he removes the last article of clothing, keeping him away from seeing you completely bare. He moans into your panties, kitten-licking to taste your arousal. He is doing his best to try and copy the video from earlier.

"Please, Leon.." you whine, your hips pushing against his face, aching for more.

Leon nods his head and nuzzles against you, his nose stimulating you even further. He pulls away to remove your panties to dive back in.

Getting messy with it, he drools onto your folds, pressing open-mouth kisses all over. Paying attention to where you moan and squirm the most.

He dips his tongue down into your pulsating hole and groans, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Tastes s'good, baby," he continues to ravage your poor, sensitive pussy, iron grip, keeping your thighs open.

You squeak and grab ahold of his hair, trying to push him away as you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body. "Leon! Wait, wait, I-I—"

Leon moves his mouth up to your little pearl and begins to suck and nibble on it. That's what truly sends you over the edge.

Back bowing, legs shaking, head thrown back with your mouth open in a silent scream. You can't even feel your lower half; pins and needles are crawling down your legs and into your feet. You're sure your legs snapped shut on his head, as you feel him so much more now.

Soon you come back into reality with Leon hovering over you, his dick freed from its prison, poking your thigh. "You okay? Did that feel good, my love?" It's so sweet how he's checking in with you after giving you the best time of your life!

"Y-Yeah," you breathe out heavily, pulling him closer by his silver cross. Toying with it between your fingertips. "That felt amazing. Thank you."

Giving him a soft, sensual kiss. Tasting a bitter liquid on his lips. He chases you as soon as you part, dipping his tongue between your lips and asking for more. You oblige, and his thick muscle is invading your cavern, touching each tooth and swirling around your own tongue. It's turning hot and heavy as he presses his hips into yours, putting weight on you.

He starts humping your leg, his cock pulsating and leaking transparent sticky fluids on your skin. He is moaning and panting into your mouth as he cups your breasts. Slowly pulling away as he takes you in once more, completely infatuated with you, it seems. And it also seems the feeling is reciprocated by yours truly.

"Can I put it in, please?" Leon grabs ahold of his dick and clumsily strokes it over your cunt. His body is stuttering forward, and his grip on your breast is tightening just slightly.

Biting your swollen bottom lip, you nod slowly. Bracing yourself for the intrusion down there. It doesn't even look like he'll fit inside of you; you're afraid he's going to somehow rip you apart down there. But you push down the fear with a shaky sigh.

"Just, um.. let me know if it hurts," he swipes through your folds a few times before sinking into you gradually.

Your body tenses up, and you grab hold of his hand, squeezing it as you let out high pitched breathy whimpers. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to get used to his size. You can't believe he's taking your virginity.

"W-wait, stop, stop, please... It hurts." You feel tears forming in your eyes, and Leon immediately halts.

Pressing chaste kisses to your eyes and one on your lips, his body bucks forward. With a groan, he murmurs, "God damn. I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby."

Your pussy flutters around his length, and you breathe in and out, getting used to him. Canting your hips up to get more of him on your terms, you roll your hips with a gasp and say, "Leon."

He takes that as a sign to push more of himself into you, filling you to the brim. Shifting to lay down on his forearms, next to your head, you wrap your legs around his waist. Your nails dig lightly into his back, eliciting a low growl from him as he tries to calm himself down. Too aroused with the feeling of you wrapped around his shaft so tightly that he can't even begin to think properly.

Taking a quick breather so that he doesn't accidentally fall on top of you. Lazily humping against you, stimulating your clitoral area while being so goddamn full of him.

"Baby, god," Leon starts to clumsily push in and out of your sopping heat. Barely even disconnecting himself from you. If anything, he doesn't ever want to pull out of you. You feel too good; it would greatly upset him to stop now.

It feels so intimate as he continues to hold your hand, sloppily kissing you as his dick slowly penetrates you deeper and deeper. Swallowing each other's noises, afraid of getting caught by his parents, is always lingering in the back of your mind.

"Mmnn, you're so tight, it's hard to move." Leon drops his forehead onto yours, staring at you intensely. His eyes are soft yet lustful, carrying love in them, you see.

Maybe you just hope that he loves you because you've loved him all your life. Having known him since you were 4 and he was 6, you couldn't have asked for anyone else to take your virginity but him. Even though he's the pastor's son.

"I love you," you can't help but blurt out. Biting your lip as he speeds up his movements for a few thrusts before going back to his lazy ones.

"You mean it?" He pants heavily into your mouth, feeling you nod your head against his. "I love you too. God, I really, really do. I promise, baby."

With those heartfelt (sort of) confessions, he begins to pick up his pace.

Growling softly when you clench around him or make squeaky noises that can't be discerned by a whimper or a moan. He loves you and all your little noises. The freckles that paint your body. The way your body curves and your stretch marks—everything about you is so gorgeous to him. He wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. He's tried giving you signs and hints that he wants to be your boyfriend, but he is always too scared to say it outright. But now he's glad about how things turned out. Including giving you his virginity.

You claw at his chest, grabbing ahold of his necklace as he fucks you harder. Looking down at his member, you see a white ring around his base. Throwing your head back into his pillows, you feel another orgasm creeping up your body.

"I'm gonna—it's gonna happen again, Leon, mmphh," you whine out as your legs try to close up, only to be blocked by his body.

Leon lets out a pained whimper, and then all of a sudden he grips onto your hair and starts to gently bite under your jawline next to your earlobe. It's syrupy and slow this time; your mind goes fuzzy and blank. No thoughts, just Leon. And his manhood bumps into your cervix.

"Please, let me... inside—can I?" His words are all jumbled up, and you can't help but say yes.

He speeds up even more, which seems impossible, but it really isn't. It has your chest bouncing with each thrust, and soft cries are leaving your lips. He keeps on holding onto your hair and hand, bringing your face up to meet him halfway to make out with you. Drooling into your mouth and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. With each thrust, his necklace bumps into your neck.

Hips stuttering into yours, he almost collapses onto your figure. Threatening to bury you into his mattress as he lazily thrusts a couple more times.

A hot liquid squirts into your womb, and Leon lets out a strained moan, dropping his head into your neck. Slowly letting go of your hair and letting your scalp relax after such harsh treatment. Your cunt clenches around him tightly.

His hips continue to jerk into yours, almost making sure his cum stays inside of you. It's like his body already knows what to do after watching one video of people making love.

Leon presses soft kisses up to your temple before getting off of you. Shifting back to his haunches, he hesitantly pulls out of your hole. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, his seed slowly drips out of your hole. His dick jumps, hitting his toned stomach, almost ready to jump back into action for round two.

"Baby, just so beautiful. I love you."

You can't help but giggle at that, making more of the sticky white liquid squirt out of your hole and onto his sheets. He quickly notices that and grabs a few tissues to wipe it off, leaving you and himself clean.

"I love you too, pretty boy," you sigh deeply, truly enamored with the way Leon just is. He's so sweet without even trying.

You go to sit up and grab your undergarments, but your legs are too shaky to even stand up, and you almost fall over. Leon maneuvers you back onto his bed and fetches it all for you. Getting himself dressed as well.

Hell, maybe it wasn't so bad to become a sinner. It was definitely a heavenly sin, that's for sure.

You two stare at each other, lips swollen red, eyes swallowed by the black and flushed pink faces. Your hands interlocked as you slowly began to kiss. But this time, it's much sweeter and softer. No rush to feel skin on skin; just relaxing in the now.

"What're we going to do?" Mumbling into the kiss, you pull away.

"What do you mean?"

"You.. you did it inside of me. What if I get pregnant? I can't be a mother right now, Leon," you frown, looking down at your stomach.

"I'll figure it out, okay? And—And if you do end up carrying my child, I'll be there. I'm not just going to leave you."

And with that, your worries washed away, nodding alongside his words as if they were God's words. In a way, he is God to you. Constantly saving you, bettering you, loving you unconditionally, and listening to you. You'd get on your knees any day for Leon. He'd just have to say the word, and you'd do it.

"Was I too rough? Are you hurt anywhere?" He presses a few chaste kisses on your forehead and temple.

"No, but I am hurting... down there. It feels a little sore. But everything else is fine." You give him a thumbs-up with a goofy grin. He returns the silly smile, nuzzling your jawline.

"I can see if there's any ibuprofen; I'll be right back, okay?"

Shortly, he returns with two pills and sets them in your palm, bringing your water over to you. You take them with a gulp of water.

"I think I've got to use the restroom as well. I'll be back." You let out a breath and walked into the bathroom across the hall. Doing your business, flushing, and then washing your hands before returning back to him.

Joining him on his bed, under the covers, to snuggle up close to him.

"You're so warm. I love it."

"I'm glad you do, sweetheart."

You both end up talking for a few more hours about work, your friends, hobbies, and, lastly, how long you've liked one another.

"Wait, wait, wait," you giggle and lay on your elbows, resting your head in your palm. "You've liked me ever since elementary school? Why haven't you told me?"

"I tried. I tried giving you hints; I even brought you a flower that one time, remember? And, like, I always let you borrow my shirts and sweaters. I thought that was enough, and you saw that, and, uh, just didn't like me back." Leon rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms. Attacking you with kisses on your ear and behind it.

You squeal and squirm in his grasp, letting out a breathy, "Okay, okay! I see it now!"

"What about you?"

"Since middle school. Remember the time on Valentine's Day when I gave you like all my candies? And then, when we did bingo at church, I gave you my prize and said I didn't want it. Yeah, well... I wanted it, but I gave it to you instead."

"So cute. I love you, baby bug," he mumbles into your neck.

"I love you too, handsome," you answer into his shoulder.

It is safe to say that you both fell asleep holding onto each other. With smiles on your faces. You both are dreaming of the day that you both get married and have the whole white picket fence, dog, children, and everything in between.

You'd risk your relationship with God again if it meant that you'd be with Leon forever.

He would absolutely risk being called a devil's spawn if it meant that he'd get to be your lover forever.

Maybe God would forgive you if you decided to sin again and again. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter what happens. If and only if, you have Leon, the pastor's son, in your arms, everything will be alright.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #pastors son!leon #leon smut #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #localkiss

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ceyhanmedya · 2 years

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What can be done for hair growth?

New Post has been published on https://hazirbilgi.com/what-can-be-done-for-hair-growth/

What can be done for hair growth?

Masks made in natural ways help healthy and fast hair growth as well as healthy nutrition. With these 7 formulas, it is possible for your hair to grow healthily!

Aspirin

If you use the same water while rinsing after throwing aspirin into the water, your hair will become stronger and will start to grow rapidly.

Onion, cinnamon and garlic

If you boil this trio and apply it to your hair, your hair will start to grow day by day. The antioxidant properties of onions and garlic are known. It is possible to achieve well-groomed hair with this cure.

Comb your hair

If you comb your hair during the day, your hair will start to grow easily as the blood circulation in your scalp accelerates.

Potatoes, eggs and honey

Mix the juice of the boiled potato with egg yolk and honey and apply it to your hair. Then wash your hair. When you apply this mask once a week, you will see that your hair shines and grows healthy.

Red radish and egg

Grate the red radish and boil it in 2 glasses of water. Add the egg yolk as it cools down. Apply this hair mask once a week and get healthy hair.

Carrots and eggs

Boil two carrots in 2 liters of water and add the egg yolk. After keeping this mixture in your hair, rinse it off. You can grow your hair by applying this natural mask once a week.

apple cider vinegar

By putting some apple cider vinegar in the water close to getting out of the shower, you can make your hair shine and grow fast.

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 months

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The Gift

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Period typical sexism and treatment of women, period-typical ideas of virginity and virtue, Marcus is a bit rude at first but he comes around quickly, attempted assault that is heavily implied to be sexual, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, wound care, yearning, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, mushy endings :)

Summary: The Emperor of Rome has given his most valued General, Marcus Acacius, a generous gift after his recent successful battle. Rather than the gold he’s hoping for, Marcus is stunned when a young virgin is delivered to his chambers. At first, he refuses to entertain the idea of stealing the virtue of a scared girl, but their lives become entwined when he learns that refusing his ‘gift’ puts her in even more danger…

A/N: The art in the header is by @norththelemon and is inspired by Paulo and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati. Thank you so much for letting me use this artwork for my fic!!! <3 The artwork does not necessarily reflect the appearance of the reader character; rather, it is a reflection of the original artwork. The only physical description I included of reader is that she has long, curly hair (color and texture are never mentioned). Marcus’s pet name for her, bellatora, very loosely translates to “little warrior.” Thank you to the lovely @leslie-lyman for the beta! **NOTE: as attempted SA can be triggering to some people, I have separated out this section with asterisks (******). You can quickly skip this scene and you will not miss any significant plot. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to send me a DM! Be safe <3

Masterlist

Marcus rides through the streets of Rome, the cheers of citizens ringing in his ears and the white petals being thrown from above him sticking in his curls. The populus is joyful, but he cannot help but think of the cost of the battle, about the sons and husbands who he knows are not returning home.

He longs for a bath, to wash the grime, dirt and blood from his body. He longs to strip off the heavy, soiled armor and lay down on his bed, naked and warm and full of bread and wine, and sleep for several days.

First, however, he must endure the long procession up to the palace, where the Emperor was surely waiting for him–where he would have to play all the little games that come with positions of power: smile, nod, say the right words and act in the ways that other people expect of a General.

The horse whinnies nervously as the cacophony swells, and Marcus gently pats its neck, sending a cascade of petals to the ground to be trodden underfoot by so many hooves.

The Emperor waits at the top of the Palace steps, surrounded by all of his court and Roman nobility. Without allowing any of the contempt he feels to show on his face, Marcus Acacius dismounts from the horse and slowly ascends the marble stairs. When he reaches the top, the Emperor pulls him into an exaggerated hug, slapping his back and cheering loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.

“Congratulations to you, my friend, for your triumph and victory over the vanquished,” the man booms, slapping Marcus's pauldron again for good measure and causing another great cheer to rise up from the crowd.

Marcus does not say anything, but he turns to face the onlookers and unsheathes his sword, raising it over his head victoriously, knowing that's what they all want him to do. The resulting din seems to rattle the very stones of the palace.

“You must be weary, good soldier,” the Emperor tells him. “Go now and rest. A gift will be sent to your chambers to show your Emperor’s appreciation for your prowess in battle.”

Marcus nods and bows deeply, indicating his gratitude for his Lord's generosity. He's most thankful, however, for the quick dismissal.

The General’s quarters in the palace are spacious and outfitted with all modern amenities Marcus could ever think to ask for. He quickly lights a fire under the basin to begin heating water for a bath. He begins removing his armor, leaving it by the door where he knows it will be collected for cleaning and polishing. He discards the filthy underclothing and retrieves a clean cloth with which to wash.

It is only now that Marcus is able to take sock tock of his injuries; as the grime is wiped clean from his body, he can finally see where the blood was his, and where the blood was not his. His arms are peppered with bruises and superficial wounds, but nothing that requires any dressing.

He is lucky.

Marcus dresses in loose robes, luxuriating in the feeling of being free and unencumbered by his armor. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he settles himself down on the bed, surrounded by the ornate pillows that come with Palace trappings, and closes his eyes.

They’ve barely been closed for a few minutes when a knock sounds at the door.

Marcus frowns. All his joints and muscles protest when he reluctantly rises from the bed again and opens the door. He’s greeted by one of the Emperor’s personal guard, who is roughly holding the upper arm of a young girl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asks hesitantly, taking in the girl’s simple, white shift that clings to her breasts and hips, her trembling lips, and her wide, terrified eyes.

“The Emperor, in his generosity, presents you with this virgin as reward for your duty to Rome,” the guard announces. He pushes the girl forward into Marcus’s chambers and shuts the door behind him.

“What in the Gods’...” the General murmurs under his breath as you are shoved unceremoniously into the room.

You curtsy deeply, remembering, despite your fear, what you have been instructed to do. “M-My Lord,” you whisper through trembling lips. You can only stare at the floor, unable to look at the man to whom you have been gifted.

“I had been hoping for gold,” the man grumbles. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He sounds angry. This terrifies you more.

“I am f-for your… p-pleasure,” you try to explain. “My Lord.” You deepen the curtsy, until your knees nearly scrape the floor. If you please him, perhaps he will not be unkind.

“Stop that. Get up.” the man snaps. “I’m not in the mood for deflowering virgins.”

“S-Sir?” You don’t understand. You weren’t prepared for the man to say no. You were bathed, dressed, and told that you were to be a gift for a mighty general. You were to please him, let him bed you, and serve him until he tired of you. You were instructed to kneel, to address him as only “My Lord,” and to do whatever he asked of you. Only then would the debt your father owed to the Emperor be paid in full.

You were not given instructions on what to do if the General refused his gift.

“D-Do I not please My Lord?” you try again. Terrified of being turned away, sent back to your father, where they’d surely kill you both, you begin to cry.

“By the Gods–stop, come here,” the General says, sounding exasperated. He gently leads you to a chair and indicates you should sit. You do. He crouches on his heels so that your heads are level, and examines you. “Who are you, girl?”

“I… am the only daughter of Proculus Opilio,” you sniffle. “I am a gift for his Lord’s pleasure.”

The man’s fingers take hold of your chin; his hands are gentle as he guides your eyes up to his. “Why are you a gift,” he presses.

“M-My family owes a great debt,” you whisper. “I am to be payment for our transgressions against the Emperor.”

“The Emperor sends me a frightened child,” the man growls as he quickly stands and paces away from you, “and calls it a gift.”

“You must accept,” you say frantically, hopping up from your seat and following him. “They will know if you do not, and we will be punished for it.”

The general scoffs. “What, they intend on checking?” he asks, as if such a thing is too ridiculous to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” you whisper. They told you as such.

“Girl,” he says sternly. “I am not going to enact such violence on a scared child.”

“I am not a child,” you argue, sticking your chin up. “I have seen nineteen summers, almost twenty.”

The General seems to find this funny. He huffs, shaking his head and turning away. “Go home, girl.”

“I cannot go home,” you say, and start to cry again.

“Stop. Stop,” the man entreats. He turns toward you again and cages your face in his hands, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Okay. Do not worry, I will… Gods, I will help. You and your family will come to no harm.”

“Thank you,” you say emphatically, your hands coming up to your shoulders in preparation to unclasp your shift.

“No! Stop!” You freeze again, eyes wide.

The General softens, and gentles his words. “Please stop. I am weary from battle and I need to sleep. Please… let us both rest, and after that we may discuss this with level heads.”

“Of course, My Lord,” you nod, curtsying again.

“Marcus.”

“...My Lord?”

“Call me Marcus. I am no Lord.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” It comes out automatically.

The General–Marcus–raises one eyebrow.

“...Marcus.” You watch as the man pads over to the bed and collapses onto it with a heavy sigh.

“You may sleep here, you may sleep elsewhere, it does not concern me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed. “I am not long for this world and will be unconscious for quite some time, I imagine.”

His words are correct; within a matter of minutes the man is snoring.

Alone and scared, you sink back down into the chair, and begin to cry again.

Marcus wakes with something tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by a mass of curls on his pillow, framing the angelic face of…

Oh.

He had forgotten about you. At some point, you had clearly decided to sleep as well, because you are curled up next to him, your hands clasped under your chin and your lips slightly parted in sleep. This is the first time he’s seen your face not terrified, and he realizes that you are really quite beautiful.

He does not know what to do with you.

Marcus has never had a shortage of willing partners, and he is uninterested in the alternative. You are pretty, young, and soft, but he is not the sort of man to force himself on a woman. Even if you did ask him in no uncertain terms to do so, it would not be for the right reasons.

He needs to find a way out of this situation, ideally with his life, your life, and the lives of your family still intact; he did not wade through the blood and mire of battlefield just to condemn an innocent woman to death.

“Girl,” he says lowly, and your eyes open quickly. They go wide at his proximity, and you scramble back a few inches, creating more space between you.

“H-Hello,” you greet him shakily.

“Good morn,” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested, My Lo–Marcus.” You offer him a small, timid smile.

Marcus glances toward the window. “It must be almost midday,” he says, noticing the angle of the sun. He’d fallen asleep yesterday in the late afternoon, slept all night, and through the morning. He hopes you did the same.

“I am famished.” He gets up from the bed–Gods, his muscles still ache–and pads toward the door to his chambers. “With any luck, this morning’s breakfast will still be outside.”

It feels like the only act of providence that has happened since his return to the Palace that the breakfast tray is still there, laden with fresh bread and fruit. He carries it inside and sets it on the small table in his chambers. He grabs a piece of bread with one hand and beckons you over with the other, too hungry to be polite and wait for you before tearing a piece off with his teeth. He finishes the bread in a few bites, but you still stand near the bed, unmoving and watching him with wary eyes.

“Come. Eat.” Marcus grabs another piece of bread and a handful of grapes.

Hesitantly, you approach the table, looking like a wild animal unsure of whether the human offering you food can be trusted.

“I do not bite, girl,” he grumbles.

You snatch a loaf off of the table and retreat backwards a couple of paces, breaking off small pieces and popping them into your mouth as you continue to stare at him.

“What will you do with me?” you ask.

“Do with you?” Marcus laughs humorlessly. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, beginning to sound angry. Good. Marcus would rather you be anything but the timid, scared girl that was shoved into his chambers. “So you would condemn my family to death?”

“I am not going to take an unwilling woman to bed,” he growls, taking more grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth.

“Most people would do far worse to save the life of a loved one,” you argue.

Marcus scoffs. “I’ve seen and done things you could not imagine, girl. If losing your maidenhood is the worst thing you can conceive of–”

“It is not,” you snap, stamping your foot in a show of exasperated petulance. “If you are not going to help me, then… I—I hope the gods curse you!” you finish lamely. You spin on your heels and retreat to the corner of his room, sitting down on a chair and crossing your arms with a huff.

Marcus closes his eyes. He is being too harsh with her, too cruel. He has spent too long shouting orders at his men of late, and not enough time offering comfort or kind words. He grimaces and approaches you with caution. You glare at him, and he doesn’t blame you, but he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you before speaking.

“I have been unkind,” he says softly. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

He watches as your pretty eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again as a number of emotions seem to flicker across your face. Your lips part, but you don’t respond, and Marcus forges on.

“I did not ask to be put in this situation, and neither did you. I made a promise to you last night that you and your family will come to no harm, but we must work together to keep you safe.”

“Would it not be easier to simply take your ‘gift’?” you sniffle, jutting your chin out and trying–unsuccessfully, he thinks to himself–to be brave.

Marcus chuckles softly, reaching forward and gently grasping both of your hands. “I have committed enough violence in the name of Emperor and Country to last a man several lifetimes. I may not have been as kind as I should have been to you, but I will not take the innocence of a scared girl who is being used as a pawn in the evil games of powerful men.”

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on the back of one hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just be free of this cursed ‘gift’ of innocence and lose all value to men like that.”

Marcus huffs in amusement. “Do you, now?”

You sigh, turning and looking out of the window. “How nice it would be to be valued for other qualities, instead,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to him. When you turn back to look at him, you ask, “How will you–we–subvert the wishes of the Emperor himself?”

Ah. He was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. Truthfully, he has no idea; all he can really hope to do is attempt to sway the Emperor in some way, or at the very least, buy him some time.

“I will request an audience,” Marcus tells you. “I must go soon to debrief with the other generals, and he will be in attendance. I will speak to him, garner favor…” he trails off, knowing how vague and uncertain he sounds.

“You would really take such a risk for me…?” you ask hesitantly.

“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon me a gift,” Marcus says sardonically. “And as I see it, that gift is now mine, and is under my protection.” He gently cups your cheek, letting his palm rest against the slightly damp skin. “We will use his… generosity… to our advantage.”

He stands, letting his fingers trail across your jaw before pulling his hand back. “I must go. Do not open the door to anyone while I am gone.”

In the General’s absence, you finish off the rest of the breakfast tray, which was plentiful. With a full belly, you wander around the man’s chambers, exploring the space that will also be yours for the foreseeable future. You wash in the basin, splashing cool water on your face and sighing in relief. For the first time in over a day, you are finally able to breathe and take stock of your situation.

You should be grateful, really. The General Marcus, although gruff and tactless at times, seems to be a caring, even kind man. You believe him when he says he will protect you, protect your family, even though you have nothing to give him in return. Nothing he wishes to take, at any rate.

Your eyes fall on an ornate dagger sitting on a table near the window, and you cannot help but think of the way his hands–the same hands that would fiercely wield a weapon to slice through skin and bone–so gently touched your face.

A loud knock on the door to Marcus’s chambers startles him out of your reverie. A soft noise of surprise escapes you before you are able to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle it. You can tell that whoever is on the other side of the door has heard you, because they pause, listening, and then knock again.

The handle rattles as someone on the other side turns it back and forth, testing the strength of the lock, and your heart pounds with trepidation.

They cannot get in. They cannot get in. They cannot get in. You repeat the phrase over and over in your head, but then you hear the distinct click as the lock is bypassed or picked, and the door swings wide.

“Well, well, well,” a man in ornate robes sneers. “It appears the rumors are true.”

**********************************

Another man in similar garb pushes past him. “Our beloved general has a new toy.” The words are dripping in sarcasm.

You back up against the wall, and the table next to you rattles when you bump it with your hip. Quickly, you pick up the dagger and point it at the intruders.

Both men guffaw loudly, slapping their knees and shoving each others’ shoulders in their apparent mirth. “She has teeth, she does!” one of them jeers.

“Tell us, did you bite the General when he stuck you?”

The men lunge forward, and you slash with the blade. One of them howls, clutching at his arm, where red is already beginning to well up between his fingers, but you are unused to wielding weapons and the second man rips it from your grasp easily.

“You little bitch,” the injured one spits, and slaps you, hard, with his good hand, the blood from his injury splashing your face and your white robes. You crumple in an instant, clutching your cheek, as the two men close in.

“I bet she squeals nice and loud,” one of them growls menacingly as he reaches for you.

*************************************

A loud bang from behind the men makes them startle. You look for the source, and see the General standing in the doorway with fury in his eyes. He wrenches another dagger from its scabbard and, with no warning, lunges forward and plunges it into the neck of the man who had reached for you. With a sickening gurgle, the man collapses instantly, and red blood begins to pool underneath him. Marcus rips the dagger from the man’s neck and points it at the second man as he shoves him against the wall, who immediately begins to whimper and shake his head.

“Sniveling cur,” the General spits. “I would happily kill you both, but you are going to deliver a message for me instead.” At the man’s frantic nod, he continues. “It seems that some need reminding that I am not to be trifled with,” Marcus snarls. “And the next person who disrespects me by harming my property will be dealt with in the same manner as your friend. Now. Go.”

The man bolts, clutching the wound you had given him.

Marcus’s demeanor immediately changes. He drops the dagger on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands again… hands that are trembling.

“They hurt you,” he murmurs, his eyes rapidly flicking back and forth over your face, seeing the blood that had spattered on your robes.

“It isn’t mine,” you manage to say, although your voice shakes and your chest heaves with leftover terror. You can’t keep your gaze from landing on the dead man in front of you, his eyes still open and staring sightlessly ahead. “I–your knife I–”

“Okay,” he nods, his thumbs still caressing your cheekbones. “Okay. Shhh. Don’t look at him, look at me.” When you manage to pull your gaze to the General instead, you’re suddenly captivated by his wild, dark eyes. They’re so full of fire, yes, but with that fire brings warmth. He stares at you as if you are a precious object, not some scared little girl covered in blood and cowering against the wall. “Come here,” Marcus says softly. “Let me help you up.”

You surprise even yourself when you automatically lean forward and into the General’s arms. He stiffens, seemingly just as stunned by your trust in him, but he recovers and carefully stands, pulling you up with him and gently turning your body away from the dead man. He leads you forward, and you follow blindly as he guides you down onto a chair.

“Let me fetch a cloth,” Marcus says, his expression stormy and troubled, “to clean you up. Do not move.”

You nod, watching as he fills a little bowl with water from the basin and comes back to crouch at your feet. “Your cheek,” he murmurs. “Is it very painful?”

You nod again, a few hot tears escaping from your eyes and stinging the small cut in question.

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Marcus promises. “But it must be cleaned.”

You shut your eyes as his fingers carefully grasp your chin, using his hold to tilt your head and grant him easier access. The cloth is cold against the burning skin of your cheek, and you cannot stop the soft whimper that leaves your lips. Gently, the General dabs the little wound, dipping the cloth in water over and over and soothing the tender skin as he wipes it clean of dirt and blood.

Once satisfied with your cheek, he cleans the man’s blood off of the rest of your face and neck, as well as the few droplets that had landed on your hands from the other man as he was stabbed.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely as he gently turns one hand over and dabs away the last remaining spot of blood on the inside of your wrist.

“You should not be thanking me,” Marcus says, voice tinged with bitterness. “It is because of me that you came to harm.”

“Yet it is also because of you that I was not harmed further,” you tell him quietly. Your eyes dart toward the body in a pool of blood still lying on the floor, and quickly look away again. “You killed a man for me.”

“You are under my protection,” Marcus says solemnly. “I do not take that vow lightly.”

As your heartbeat finally begins to slow, the deep terror that had been swirling inside you leaves, replaced with bone-weary fatigue. Your vision swims and your head sways slightly as you suddenly feel that you must fight the urge to fall asleep right here in this chair.

“Something ails me,” you say, alarmed at your darkening vision.

“Battle fatigue,” the General says matter-of-factly. “When the fog of war lifts, sleep often takes its place.”

“I am no soldier,” you protest tiredly. The world shifts–Marcus has scooped you into his arms and is carrying you to his bed, carefully laying you down on the blankets.

“You are now,” he teases gently. “Victorious little soldier, bellatora, wielding a General’s weapon with ferocity. You even have a battle scar.” His finger gingerly brushes your cheek.

“Will others come?” you ask, struck with a sudden pang of fear even as your eyes threaten to close.

“No.”

“What if they do?” It’s a silly question, and you aren’t sure why you even gave voice to such a childish fear. Warmth envelops you as Marcus covers your form with a blanket. Your eyes finally close, and the General’s last words seem to come to you through a dream.

“Then I will fight the entire Roman army to keep you safe.”

Marcus Acacius did not want this “gift.”

He did not want a virgin to deflower, nor a scared girl to comfort, or even a servant that inexplicably tidied his rooms while he was away.

He did not want you.

But here you are, sitting by his window with a book, eating all of your dinner and a good portion of his, and leaving long, curly hairs on his pillows, by the basin, and even on his armor–something he had discovered during a drill one morning, pulling the offending strand off of his pauldron with a bemused shake of his head.

He does not want you. He doesn’t want the comb and mirror that now lie on the table by the basin, nor the extra rags he had to ask a servant for–ears burning bright red–when your… er… monthlies arrived. He does not want to spend his wages on new robes for you, but he hardly has a choice, not when your thin white shift became filthy with blood the night that he–

Gods.

The night that he almost lost you.

If his meeting had gone just five minutes longer, he would have been too late. He would have arrived to a much different scene, and he knows he would have killed every inhabitant of the palace in retribution.

This is how he knows that he cannot trust his own feelings when it comes to you. What should be an unwanted inconvenience in his life has quickly become much, much more. He acts like a man in love, the way he buys you trinkets and brings you sweets, but no matter how he twists the story in his own head, he cannot deny the truth: you are a captive. His captive.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wealthy merchant crosses his path in the bustling market, followed by another man carrying all of the man’s wares for him, purposely walking several paces behind as is the custom for slaves.

Marcus can dress you in all the finery his salary can afford, but that does not change the fact that you were intended to be a slave for his pleasure.

He already has his intended prize from the market–a parcel containing two pieces of sweetbread tucked under one arm–but perhaps it is guilt over your imprisonment that causes his head to wander to the stall of jewelry to his left.

“Trinkets for a special someone,” says a middle-aged woman wearing kohl eyeliner and almost as many beads around her own neck as are displayed in her stall. She shoots Marcus a knowing smirk as his fingers reach out to graze a length of beads of palest pink.

“Rose quartz,” the woman tells him. “For love, compassion, and emotional healing.”

Rose quartz. He cannot help but picture the pretty, pale beads glowing, luminous against the soft skin of your neck.

“How much?” His voice is rough and thick.

The woman’s smile widens.

They cost almost an entire weeks’ salary, and he’s never spent such a sum on anything for himself, let alone something so frivolous, but he’s already reaching for his purse.

You grin widely at Marcus’s return–a sight that makes his heart swell when he remembers how frightened you were of him on that first night. You make little grabbing motions with your hands, causing him to laugh as he hands over the parcel of sweetbread. You take your piece and hand him the other, hardly waiting until he’s taken it before you’re biting into the sweet dough with a sound of pleasure that goes straight to his nether regions.

He thinks of the necklace, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his robes, but he is struck with a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, and he leaves it where it is.

“Tell me about the market,” you say wistfully.

“Too crowded,” Marcus grunts before taking a bite of his own sweetbread.

You seem to find his cantankerous nature funny, for Gods know what reason, and the pretty sound of your laughter fills the room–and his mind.

“There are a number of visitors for some play at the amphitheater tonight,” he explains further, shrugging slightly.

You suddenly exclaim in delight, startling him a little. “I love the amphitheater,” you say emphatically. “My father often had to punish me for sneaking in to see plays against his wishes when I was a little girl.”

Marcus chuckles, picturing a smaller version of you, but no less fiery.

“It was worth it,” you laugh. You pop the last piece of sweetbread into your mouth and suck each finger clean of the sticky dough in turn. Marcus should look away, but he’s entranced by the way your lips close around each digit, leaving clean, shiny skin in your wake.

He blames this momentary onset of utter madness for the words that leave his mouth next.

“Would you like to go see it? The play?”

The pure delight that washes over your face is enough to make Marcus want to take you to a different play every night, but after too short a time, you are frowning warily.

“Would that be wise?” you ask. “Is it not dangerous for me to leave your quarters?”

“You would be seen as my consort,” Marcus answers. “No harm will come to you, bellatora.”

“Your… your consort?”

“You cannot be a prisoner in these walls for the rest of your days,” he tells you softly. “If we play the parts we have been given–the General and his consort–no one will question it. They wouldn’t dare, not after my warning. The entire palace knows that I will gladly kill anyone who threatens you.”

You duck your head, looking down at your hands. Marcus wonders if you’re frightened of him, still.

“Everyone will see my act as one of possession,” he says. “Of territoriality. If we allow them to draw that conclusion, they will never suspect any different.”

You nod, biting your lower lip and giving him a timid smile that slowly spreads across your face and turns into something bright and joyful.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“The play will end before we even arrive, bellatora,” Marcus grouses from the main chamber.

“Patience,” you snap from the washroom. The stupid elaborate hairstyle that you keep trying to braid your hair into keeps falling out, and you’re beginning to feel frustrated. With a heavy sigh, you settle for a simpler plait that falls over one shoulder. You’re wearing one of the nicer gowns that Marcus has gifted you–robes of deep emerald green, but you still worry that you look far too common to be an appropriate consort to a General.

Since when has such a thing become a concern for you? Despite the roles you are forced to play, Marcus is not your consort, nor your lover. He has made it clear he will never touch you, so why are you hiding in the washroom, worrying over your appearance?

With a pained sigh, you shake yourself, square your shoulders, and turn to face the General.

“Ready,” you announce, and the man in question looks up.

His lips part slightly, a little crease forming on his brow as his eyebrows raise. He fixes you with that look–the one he keeps giving you lately. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of surprise every time he sees you, as if you aren’t a permanent fixture in his rooms and could disappear at any moment.

“What?” you finally ask.

Marcus seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “It is missing something.”

The statement confuses you. “I–I have nothing else to–” You cut yourself off as the man seems to be digging through his clothing, looking for what, you do not know.

“I thought this would suit you,” he says quietly, as he retrieves a small parcel and holds it out for you to take.

You hesitate, frowning. “What is it?”

Marcus huffs softly with impatience and opens the parcel himself, revealing the prettiest strand of stones you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh,” you gasp.

“Do you…” the man in front of you clears his throat and shifts in his stance, “Do you like it?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I like it.”

Wordlessly, he removes it from the cloth and moves behind you to clasp it at the back of your neck. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face at the feel of the cool beads resting against your throat. Gently, you touch the necklace with your fingers and turn to look at Marcus. “Does it look pretty?” you ask, still grinning at him.

The General’s face is almost pained when he returns your gaze. His eyes don’t leave yours when he softly answers, “Yes.”

Marcus Acacius has never been much for plays, but never before has he experienced seeing one with you. He can’t help cracking a small smile himself every time you let out a joyful peal of laughter, which you do often, as the story is a humorous one.

The necklace suits you just as he thought it would, but your beauty almost makes the stones appear dull in comparison. If anyone were to ask him, Marcus would say that your smile could outshine all of Rome. Pretending that you are his consort is far too easy; your delicate fingers find the crook of his elbow without prompting when he offers his arm to you as you walk through the streets when the show ends. Your eyes always seem to find his, your face bright and hopeful and oh so lovely as you look up at him.

“Marcus?”

He’s been lost in his thoughts again. He grunts and nods to you as the two of you walk back to the palace, when you suddenly stop.

“I want to tell you…” you begin, wringing your hands together nervously.

“What is it, bellatora?” Marcus asks with concern.

“I want to tell you that I am… very happy,” you say, ducking your head and avoiding his gaze.

“I am glad that you enjoyed the play,” Marcus says hesitantly, wondering what is making you suddenly be so… shy.

“With you,” you add quietly. “It’s not only the play, it’s… it’s just you, Marcus.” The final word is almost a plea, with how earnestly it leaves your lips. “I–I want you to know that I would. I would be your consort, i-if you wanted, and I’d–”

Marcus closes the small distance between you and presses his lips against yours. You yield to him immediately, your small hands moving up the planes of his chest and coming to rest at his jaw. You kiss with the slight timidness of someone unfamiliar with how to do it, but oh, he’s happy to guide you. One of his hands gently cups your neck, the other caresses your cheek and it’s all he can do to keep the kiss chaste and not frighten you by backing you up against the wall of the alleyway and opening his mouth to you.

When he releases your lips, you chase him–leaning forward with your mouth still pouted and your eyes closed, as though you cannot bear to be parted from him, and it takes a herculean effort not to indulge.

“Come,” Marcus murmurs softly, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone, watching as you flutter your eyes open and look at him with an expression of such open trust and want that he feels as though he’ll burn from the inside out. “Come, let us go home.”

You are ablaze.

Marcus’s hands seem to burn with heat as he guides you hastily through the palace and to his familiar quarters, but their temperature still seems to pale in comparison to the heat that rises within you.

Once inside, he kisses you again, and you swear your knees could simply buckle and give out just at the feel of his lips on yours. You crave it again and again; your hands grip at his robes to hold him close to you, hoping he’ll never stop.

“Sweet girl, little bellatora,” Marcus murmurs, his lips dragging from your mouth across your cheek to the side of your neck and oh, you like that even more–your head falls to the side and your back arches as you all but beg for his lips on your skin again. His hand on your lower back guides you even closer until your bodies are pressing together and you gasp softly at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your earlobe and causing a cascade of shivers to course through you. “Tell me that you want this. If you do not, deny me now, and I promise I will never touch you again.”

“No,” you whimper automatically. “No, please don’t stop, just–”

“Shhh, bellatora.” Marcus seems to crumple with relief, leaning forward until your back hits the wall and his lips ravish your neck once again. “I won’t stop, just tell me you want me like this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as the General’s hands cage your face and his mouth meets yours once again. “Yes, yes, yes–” You repeat the word over and over into his mouth, until he groans softly and parts his lips too, deepening the kiss and tasting you with his tongue.

His hands caress your neck, fingertips running up and down before settling on the clasps on your shoulders. “Let me see you,” he whispers. “Please, let me–”

You pull back, looking in his eyes as you nod slowly, giving him permission. He carefully undoes your dress, letting the fabric fall and pool at your feet. The necklace is still around your neck, and he touches the beads lightly as he stares at the sight before him.

“Oh, Gods…” Marcus murmurs to himself, shaking his head in awe. “What a divine gift you are, bellatora.”

His eyes rake over your breasts, your hips, the swell of your stomach, and the fire burning within threatens to consume you. With one more soft kiss, he whispers, “Come to the bed, so I may worship you properly.”

You let him lead you, keeping your eyes on him as he takes your hands in his and pulls you toward the bed. You are too consumed with flames to feel fear of this moment, but a pang of nervousness thrums within you despite yourself.

Marcus guides you down until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. You begin to scoot backwards–you might not have much experience, but you know you’re supposed to be lying on the bed–when he stops you, and instead sinks to his knees in front of you.

“I–” you begin, unsure of what to do.

“I want you to watch,” the General whispers, looking up at you in the same way an acolyte may look up at a temple. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of spooking you, he guides your legs open until you’re splayed out in front of him. You would be embarrassed, but for the hungry look in his eyes, how his chest seems to heave in anticipation, and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips as if he’s about to enjoy a feast.

When he leans forward, his mouth moving toward you, you gasp and stiffen, and he pauses.

“Trust me,” he soothes. “It will feel good, I promise.”

You swallow thickly and relax again, watching as Marcus comes even closer, until he’s able to press a kiss right on–

“Oh,” you whimper softly.

Emboldened, he angles his mouth against you and licks. The sensation of his tongue through your folds causes you to collapse backwards on your elbows, your head falling back and your eyes closing as you gasp toward the ceiling.

“Watch,” Marcus reminds you.

With you half-sprawled on the bed, your legs fall open even further and his hands wind underneath your hips as he pulls you even closer onto his mouth. His tongue, his lips… oh, it’s so decadent; you’ve never felt pleasure like this by your own hand. He thrusts his tongue into you, and you can only whine and babble wordlessly, your eyes wide as you dutifully watch him please you. He alternates between these deep, overwhelming strokes of his tongue and little licks right on the little bundle of nerves above, back and forth, back and forth until your entire body shakes.

“Exquisite,” Marcus rasps, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. His lips close around you and he sucks gently, and the fire within you burns until it reaches a crescendo, until finally, you fall.

“Bellatora.” The endearment is laden with affection, and when you slowly blink your eyes open, the General is smiling down at you. “Are you with me, mi bellatora?”

You giggle. “I think so.”

He must have disrobed while your eyes were closed; you stare at his slightly golden chest, at the light dusting of hair and freckles, and further down, where–

Oh, Gods.

Marcus hangs thick, heavy, and proud, and you swallow in trepidation at the thought of all of that inside you.

“Don't look at that; look at me.” The words are soothing, but tinged with humor, and you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes when you do as he asks and look at him.

“Let us just lie down together,” he says, smiling. “Nothing more.”

You scoot up until your head rests against the pillows, and Marcus crawls over you with a smirk, pressing little kisses up your body as he goes, until he lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

With your back against his chest, you can't exactly forget about the hard length of him, as it's currently pressing insistently against you. You wiggle, arching your back and trying to soothe the empty ache that still seems to reside within you.

“Feeling greedy, mi bellatora?”

You whine softly and push back against him harder. His arms are wrapped around you, but somehow, it’s still not enough. You want him everywhere, you need everything.

“What have you done to me?” you laugh softly.

“Nothing you have not also done to me,” Marcus murmurs, nipping your shoulder playfully.

“I have done nothing,” you say airily, leaning further back into his embrace.

“Oh, you have,” he growls. “You have invaded my quarters–”

“That is hardly my doing–”

“–and shortly after, invaded my heart,” Marcus continues, ignoring your interruption. “You have made me crave as I never have before.”

“You have made me feel the same,” you whisper. “I have never… felt anything like this before.”

“Mi bellatora,” he breathes against your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Do not be cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“You are denying me.”

At your playful accusation, Marcus suddenly shifts, rising up from beside you and pinning you to the bed with his body. “And it is taking the effort of every bone in my body, more challenging than all twelve labors of Hercules.”

“Then stop,” you tell him softly, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Stop denying us what we both want.”

Rather than answer, the General lowers his mouth to yours.

Kissing might be your new favorite thing–you thought the feel of Marcus’s lips was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt when he kissed you in the alleyway, but here, in his bed, with the weight of his body pressing deliciously down on you, his kisses feel even more profound. His hips roll gently against you, and you instinctively wrap one leg around his thigh to try and relieve your desire for more friction.

The action causes Marcus to groan and bury his face in your neck, his light beard scraping against your skin. Your hips cant upward unconsciously, and the skin of his cock catches and rubs against your folds.

With a little moan, you press against him harder, wanting more, more–

“Bellatora,” Marcus groans. He props himself on one elbow over you, spits on the other hand and rubs the wetness onto the head of his cock. He repeats the motion again, and then gently rubs the remainder onto you, making you arch back with a surprised gasp.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He lines up the thick head of him with your entrance and pushes the tip in ever so slightly. Your eyes widen as you feel him, your mouth falling open as you stare up at him in awe.

“That’s it, just look at me,” Marcus murmurs. “Just keep looking at me.”

His face is so close to yours that your breaths mingle as he slowly slides in. You expect it to hurt, but you’re so soaked from his earlier attentions that it’s almost easy for him, at first. When he’s only about halfway in, though, you start to feel unbearably full–too full–and it makes you whimper softly and squirm against him.

“Breathe for me,” Marcus reminds you. “Breathe, mi bellatora.”

In between more kisses and soft praises, he pushes forward, bit by bit, until you can feel his body fully pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling shakily. “I can feel you.”

Marcus chuckles. “And I, you.”

He stays just there, unmoving, stroking your face, until you begin to squirm with impatience again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, bellatora,” he says softly. “Please, love, tell me if I do.”

You nod, wide-eyed and enraptured by the feeling of being utterly filled. With one last gently kiss to your cheekbone, Marcus carefully begins to move. His cock drags slowly back and forth against your walls, and each time he buries himself to the hilt once again, it sends sparks of pleasure all over your body.

Your exhales turn high and breathy, little whimpers and gasps escaping every time Marcus reaches the end of you. You cling to his shoulders, the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his curls, eliciting a deep groan and a change in the rhythm of his thrusts as he gains confidence that you aren’t in any pain.

The faster Marcus’s hips move, the more it seems to send you into a frenzy. Your legs wrap around his hips and your grip on his upper body tightens as the fire within you starts to build again.

Your lips seek any available skin they can find, pressing open-mouthed against his jaw, his neck, his upper arm, anywhere you can reach. One of Marcus’s hands gently cups the back of your neck for leverage as he grinds against you; the other wanders up and down your body–gripping your hip, squeezing your breast and pressing his thumb against your nipple, stroking your cheek as he kisses you again and again.

His kisses become more and more messy and frenetic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. He pants softly, his voice catching on every exhale, quiet little noises deep in his throat that only you can hear.

Your bodies move seamlessly together, aided by the light sheen of sweat that beads on your skin. Marcus hand slips in between you, his fingers finding the little bundle of nerves and gently rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Oh, I–I–” you whimper brokenly, drunk on the sensations of pleasure that he’s pulling from your body. “M-Ma–”

“Say it,” he rasps in your ear. “Please, bellatora.”

“Marcus,” you manage to gasp.

“Again.”

“M-Marcus, Marcus, oh Gods, I–”

Your body arches off the bed as the strongest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt courses through you. You convulse against him, hands scrabbling for a hold on his broad shoulders, gripping him for dear life as though he is the only thing keeping you from being pulled under by the waves.

Your cries reach a crescendo and Marcus gives you everything–his hips snapping roughly against you as your core continues to flutter weakly. Finally, when your body feels boneless and the fullness of him begins to ache, his thrusts falter and he finally stills, his cock twitching inside of you as he finishes.

He slips out, frowning slightly with concern when you wince, but continues to hover over you, his eyes sweeping over your face as your breathing slows and your heart quietens. He stays there, stroking your hair and kissing you until his shoulders start to shake with the effort of holding himself over you.

You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm in Marcus’s arms.

[Several moons later]

“Must we really go?” you wheedle as you watch the General fiddle with the clasp on his ceremonial robes.

“It is the most effective way to make our little statement, bellatora.”

You cross your arms and make a show of pouting, although you know Marcus is right. You raise your arms, which are currently holding half of an unfinished braid. “Help me with my hair?”

Marcus sighs loudly, although you know that, like your feigned petulance, it’s also an act. He takes the braid from you and finishes it before moving to the next section, plaiting it together the way he knows you like.

“Tell me the statement again.”

He huffs. “You just like hearing me say it.”

“Yes.”

“An act against one of us is an act against both of us,” he murmurs dutifully. “And tantamount to an act of war, to be met with a swift and disproportionate response.”

“You always say that–‘disproportionate response.’ I do not understand what you mean by it.”

“Mmm. An opposing force sends one arrow into my army, I send one back. Proportionate response. Someone sends an arrow into my army, and I reign fire from the sky, burn every building to the ground, kill every citizen and remove them from every map. Disproportionate response.” Marcus finishes your hair and gently drapes the long braid over your shoulder.

“If ever you ask why I was scared of you when first we met, I will refer to you to that statement,” you say wryly.

“You did ask, mi bellatora.” He picks up a belt and scabbard–similar to his, but smaller, more delicate, and ornate. He fastens it around your waist, cinching your dress and making you feel not only more alluring, but powerful.

You do a little twirl and turn to him. “Do I look like the consort of an esteemed General?”

Marcus leans in and gently captures your lips with his. “You look like so much more. Now let us go into this den of wolves.”

With your head held high, you walk proudly through the halls at the General’s side, your hand tucked neatly against the crook of his elbow, until you reach the banquet hall, where the Emperor is holding a great feast. In your wildest imagination, you cannot think of a single place you want to avoid more, but you hold Marcus’s earlier promise in your mind as the heads turn to look at your entrance.

This is the last time.

The Emperor, surrounded by his entourage, raises his glass with a shout and a laugh as he sees the two of you. “The good General,” he grins wolfishly.

“Taking his little plaything out for a walk,” one of the other men sneer.

“Letting his little pet out of its cage,” adds another, snickering.

Calmly, you unsheath the beautiful, ceremonial dagger that Marcus had given you as a gift and hold it at your side, just as he’d told you. A powerful warrior does not brandish their weapon or wave it under people’s noses, he had said. A powerful warrior does not need to. They simply remind their enemies that the weapon is there.

“You disrespect me,” you say, keeping your face even and your eyes stern. “And you disrespect my husband.”

Silence falls around the room. The Emperor’s men look at each other, to Marcus, and back to you again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, one of them laughs loudly.

“General Acacius is going soft,” he cackles. “Letting his little toy play pretend that she’s the wife of a noble.”

You fight to keep your expression free of malice or hurt, continuing to face them down calmly, your sword resting at your side.

“Your gift to the General was far more valuable than you knew,” you say evenly, speaking only to the Emperor. “My family’s debt is paid in full, and I am therefore free to leave the palace at my leisure.”

The Emperor of Rome stares at you with befuddlement, his eyes wide, seemingly completely at a loss for words.

“We take our leave,” you announce with a flourish of a bow.

“Leave?” The man sputters. “You are my finest General, you cannot–”

“I have given the Empire more than my fair share of years in service,” Marcus says quietly, standing resolutely next to you and placing his hand around your waist. “I find I have seen all I care to see of war, and the rest of my days will be filled with peace.”

Marcus turns to the other generals, who are all watching the confrontation with the Emperor. Without speaking, they draw their swords and hold them aloft in a silent salute to your husband–who solemnly returns the gesture. As you are still holding your dagger, you copy the gesture. This seems to please both him and the other Generals, who all smile.

Marcus turns to you, beaming with affection and pride. “Let’s go home, bellatora.”

Epilogue

In a small hamlet south of the big city, a villa sits on a small hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.

There is a rumor among some of the residents of the town that the man who lives there used to be a General in the Emperor’s army, but most of the inhabitants agree that this is a ridiculous notion.

He’s too soft-spoken, you see; his gentle demeanor is unlike that of a soldier. He often likes to sit with his wife and watch the color of the sea change as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the moment of peace before his children wake up.

There are five of them now–with a sixth on the way. His wife jokes that should she find herself with child for the seventh time, she’s going to feed the man’s privates to their goats.

Their life is modest, but by all accounts of those who witness it, they are blissfully happy. Their home always seems to be filled with joy, laughter, and no small amount of chaos that always follows young children. They maintain a small farm, raise goats and chickens, and they sell their extra eggs and vegetables at the market every week, accompanied by their five children, who are helpful… to varying degrees.

Sometimes, late at night, the odd passer-by will see the silhouette of a couple standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, wrapped in a tender embrace.

They have few visitors, but those who have been inside their villa have noted that two swords are mounted above the front door. One is large, utilitarian, but expertly crafted–with signs of wear that might indicate it has seen more conflict than most. The other is small and elegant, the hilt decorated with precious stones.

No one has ever dared to ask about them.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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crosshairlovebot · 6 months

Text

enclosed intentions / crosshair gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: amid your growing feelings for the silver-haired sniper, you and crosshair are paired together on a mission that goes awry, which brings to light intentions you've been aching to know.

word count: 9,934 (pHEW!!)

warnings: near-death experience (everyone lives). landslide. heavy storms. enclosed spaces. minor injury. minor injury description. making out. light angst.

been wanting to write another crosshair fic for a while bc he's my GUY and i love him!!! season 3 is only fuelling the burning fire he stokes in my chest. i hope you enjoy this! strap in! it's a long one! (sorry if there are any errors, i've edited this but it's so long it's entirely possible that i missed some <3)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

More often than not, Clone Force 99 was sent on dangerous missions – missions too specialised for the regular battalions and squads that filled the Grand Army of the Republic. The missions that troubled Jedi Generals regarding the potential loss of men. But Clone Force 99 and their specialised skills took on those missions with ease, enthusiasm even.

You were about to embark on another one of those missions.

When you’d first joined the GAR as a medic, you’d heard rumours about the squad of defective clones and their enhanced skills, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by their reportedly unbroken mission success.

When Echo walked into your medbay after he’d been rescued from Skako Minor and you were the first to check over him – making him feel comfortable after years of prodding and inhumane treatment – it only made sense for you to join the team as a field medic to continue to treat him and the other members of the squad.

Though they were initially dubious of the idea of a nat-born joining their ranks, they had always been a misfit crew – you were only another addition to that, and it wasn’t long before your presence with the squad felt like being at home.

You got on with each of the members well, even if they grumbled and complained about your regularly scheduled medical check-ups after missions.

Tech was a great help in collating the medical files he’d made from when he acted as the informal medic. You joked along with Wrecker, who often used you as an alternate barbell, lifting you over his head to warm up before a mission. Hunter often conferred with you before mission briefings to go over any hazards that could harm them. Echo was probably your strongest bond, the trust that existed between you both created a level of closeness not shared with the other members of the squad.

But Crosshair…

You’d soon discovered that Crosshair was weary of anyone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and you joining Clone Force 99 – and in such constant close quarters, meant your relationship with the sharpshooter was a little more distant than the others.

You tried not to let it bother you so much, but it was hard when you were joking with Wrecker, and you could feel Crosshair’s discerning enhanced eyes on you. You often ignored his gaze as best you could, but sometimes you would look over at him, and hold his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked away.

You wish you knew what those looks meant. You would lay in your bunk at night, and think about it, trying to piece together any patterns and figure out why Crosshair’s eyes never seemed to truly leave you.

Despite the distance between you both, it didn’t deter your intrigue about him. There was something about him that drew your attentions towards him.

If you didn’t feel his eyes on you, your eyes would find him. He was so fascinating to watch. Everything he did, he did with purpose; intention. Nothing about Crosshair was insignificant. Every word, every gesture, every look held meaning. You liked trying to figure it out, but you had yet to decipher much of it – especially when it was directed at you. He was like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved, hiding all his answers in disappearing ink, you had to hold him up to the light to try and unravel him. You wished he would let you, but his terse demeanour kept you at bay - not wanting to disturb what balance you had.

So you were content to watch him from a distance. He was methodical about everything. Cleaning his rifle the same way after every mission, never missing a step, always performing each of them in the same order. His armour went on the same way. You would watch how his toothpicks would always dangle from his lips as he cleaned his prized weapon, and you would almost be hypnotised by the way he moved the wooden stick between his teeth. You spent so much time staring at his mouth, that you could probably draw it from memory.

He was magnetising.

Whenever you needed to perform a medical check on him, you would do so quietly and draw it out, as if trying to soak up every moment of the closeness to him, catalogue it all.

When it came to checking his hands, you would gently hold them in your palms and gently massage the joints that could get cramped from holding the rifle tightly. You would check the nerves with a light prick on each fingertip and around the palm. Those examinations were so tense, his eyes on you the entire time watching your every move in the tiny medbay on the Marauder. You could barely focus in that room, there was nowhere to hide from his sharp eyes. And when you dared meet his gaze, his eyes would hold yours in a way that left you breathless and you were never able to look him in the eyes for very long. They’d look right into yours, an expression dancing in them you could never place.

But he never said anything to you – not unless you asked him a question about pain. But you’d think about each interaction for days afterwards.

Your silent exchanges filled your head at night, spilling over into your dreams. Dreams where those hands you’d just inspected in the waking world would be holding you tightly, that mouth you’d stared at brushing against your cheek and neck, whispering things you pretended not to remember once you woke. You’d wake up from those dreams confused, still feeling the ghost of his touches on you. It didn’t hit you until several dreams later that that initial intrigue had given way to feelings much deeper; to an intense crush that only seemed to build the longer you spent with Clone Force 99.

If anyone else noticed, they never said anything. You carried on as normal and hoped Hunter’s heightened senses didn’t pick up on the way your face heated or your heartbeat increased when Crosshair was near.

Except the silence between you broke a few days ago.

After the last mission, you were scheduled to do the weekly checks on the squad. You always left Crosshair until last, knowing he liked to clean his rifle as soon as the mission debrief was over. When you called him into the tiny room, he sat down on the bench, and you completed the first part of the check-up smoothly.

It was when you were massaging one of his hands, loosening the stiffness with your own fingers, that you felt his close around yours.

You had stilled and slowly looked up at him. His brown-eyed gaze met yours and you felt the air get sucked out of your lungs. You watched his eyes flick between yours, his throat working as his fingers were warm around yours. He was holding your hand, and it was warm and strong despite its slenderness. It was such an innocent gesture, and yet the sensation of his touch made your face burn and heat unfurl in your chest as your feelings for the sniper were unleashed in full force. You didn’t know what to do, but you would be lying if you didn’t like the feel of his fingers around yours. But this was Crosshair – the Crosshair who barely spoke to you, who watched you like he was analysing your every move.

“A-am I hurting you?” you managed to stammer out.

Crosshair blinked, seemingly jolting himself out of a trance and pulled his hands away roughly, frowning. “No.” His voice was like gravel, and he stood up and quickly left the room, check-up unfinished.

You had no idea what had happened, what you had done, what he had done, but you stood in that room trying to quell your racing heart for ages before you worked up the nerve to emerge. You spent that night thinking about the warmth of his fingers around yours and the way his throat bobbed like he wanted to tell you something.

What was it that he wanted to say? You knew Crosshair was always intentional in everything he did, so what was his intention with holding your hand like that?

Now, as the Marauder flew into a planet you couldn’t remember the name of, you felt those brown eyes on you from where Crosshair sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, his arms crossed and toothpick between his lips. Echo helped Tech guide the ship as Wrecker bench-pressed Gonky in the corridor. Hunter stood nearby as you held onto the back of Tech’s pilot seat as the ship flew into the planet’s atmosphere.

Since joining the squad a mere two months ago, you had been to more planets than you ever thought you would visit in your entire lifetime, but you had never seen anything like this.

The sky was full of enormous floating rocks, with thick greenery on top. You didn’t know how they stayed floating like this.

“This place is unbelievable,” you murmured. “How is this possible?”

“The rocks are held up by the planet’s unique gravity, creating a balanced pull that tethers the rock to its place. Think of them as miniature planets that exist within the atmosphere,” Tech explained.

You hummed in amazement as Tech flew past them all and steered towards the planet’s surface, which lay beneath a thick bank of dark clouds. The clouds gave way to rocky terrain, with a mountain range that jutted up from the ground haphazardly, not unlike their floating counterparts, as well as canyons and valleys. The whole planet seems to be rocks in various states. Tech landed the ship in a clear area and then everyone turned to Hunter.

“So, what’s the plan, Hunter?” Wrecker called out, finally giving Gonky a rest and placing him back on the ground.

Everyone gathered around a holomap Hunter had brought up. You felt Crosshair slide in next to you, his crossed arms grazing yours. Heat prickled your skin, the memory of the warmth of his fingers coming to life again, and you shifted slightly, drawing your arms closer to your body. You looked up at him but for once, his gaze wasn’t on you, but on the blue graphics in front of him. Your face burned. It was embarrassing how much of an effect he had on you, and even more so now after that moment in the medbay. He seemed to have completely forgotten about it, and here you were still having phantom feelings of the way his fingers wrapped around yours.

“We divide our squad,” Hunter begins. “Break off into pairs. The mineral we’ve been sent to recover is located across this entire sector, but according to Tech, not all of it will be viable.”

“There is a very narrow window in which the mineral is usable, and it will be difficult to find. But we will need to be cautious. The viable mineral is highly volatile when handled. And there’s an incoming storm headed this way, and due to the unique gravitational field on this planet, the storms here are quite lethal,” Tech tapped on his datapad.

You took a deep breath in. It appeared there was a lot that could go wrong.

Hunter nodded. “I can feel it. We’ll need to move fast, so let’s get going. Echo, you’re with me in the Badlands. Tech and Wrecker, you head west for the Valley. And that leaves Crosshair with N’edee up in the Mountains. Comm if you find any viable mineral and triangulate your position as best you can for reference before extracting as much as possible. Then head back to the Marauder where we’ll reconvene. Questions?”

Everyone shook their head. “The terrain is tough out there, so let’s try to avoid N’edee having to patch up any injuries,” Hunter added, sending you a smile. Everyone nodded before Hunter signalled everyone to move out.

N’edee was the little Mando’a nickname they’d appointed you. It meant ‘no bite’. After you’d first joined, you’d witnessed your first ever disagreement between Crosshair and Hunter and, not used to their scuffles yet, tried to mediate between them. They were so amused it stopped the argument and earned you the name – since you’d rather try to keep the peace instead of letting them fight it out.

Now, you knew better, but the name stuck. You wished you hated it, but Crosshair’s smirk as he called you it the first time was the first time he ever sort of smiled at you.

And the last.

The squad grabbed their gear, and you strapped your med pack to your back and holstered a blaster you barely ever used. You felt your whole body go into overdrive, not only because of the risk of the mission but also because you were paired off with Crosshair. The thought of being so close; just the two of you sent nerves running through you. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to ask what happened in the medbay, and try and sort it out and move forward, but you didn’t have that kind of closeness with Crosshair. There was no way you felt comfortable bringing up the way he held your hand – this was an important mission, and you didn’t want to risk ruining it by making Crosshair uncomfortable and clam up so tight you’d lose the modicum of trust you had.

Whenever intention he’d had, you weren’t destined to ever know what it was. So, you’d just have to take a page out of his book and pretend it never happened.

You made your way down the Marauder’s gangplank to find Crosshair waiting for you, helmet under his arm and holding the barrel of the sniper with his free hand as the hilt rested on the ground. He was the only one there, the others had already started their treks. You quickened your steps down as he looked over at you, heat blooming up your neck.

“Sorry,” you told him. Crosshair shook his head, either dismissing the apology or disappointed in your slowness to get ready – you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go, the storm’s moving quickly,” he informed in that way of his. He placed his helmet on and started walking. You watched him walk away, not looking back at you as his long legs carried him quickly through the rocky ground in the direction of the mountain range.

“Try and keep up,” he called back, and you huffed, adjusting your med pack and jogging after him.

Crosshair kept a quick pace as you both walked, and his height didn’t help. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner Tech provided you with and your footsteps were the only sound between you both. You tried to keep up as best you could as you approached the base of the mountain range, but you were still lagging a couple of metres behind him.

You had been worried about the awkwardness a conversation about what happened in the medbay would bring, and yet you were not even close enough to have one.

You huffed, a light sheen of sweat covering your brow, as you stepped over a bunch of rocks, moving between them as best you could, looking down at your feet to ensure you didn’t fall. The weather was beginning to change, and you knew the storm was getting closer as the wind picked up and nearly knocked you off balance a few times. But you had still to find any viable mineral. You looked at the scanner and saw it was indeed picking up signs of the mineral, but none of it was suitable – either too old or too young a sample. You sighed. This was going to take longer than you thought, and you only hoped you had more luck once you reached the mountains, and that the storm would hold off.

“Watch your step,” Crosshair called back to you. You looked up to watch him as he stepped on a boulder and jumped down into what must’ve been a small ditch at the foot of the mountain range. You frowned and kept walking. As you got closer, you were surprised as you realised he was waiting for you. His helmet was trained on you as you reached the rock and you tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to you. You stepped on top of the boulder, the wind whipping around you as his gaze tilted up at you. For once, you towered over him. You couldn’t help but smile playfully at him.

“So, this is what the world must look like for you,” you joked, trying to ease the tension that was still thick between you.

Crosshair let out a small scoff at your joke before holding out his hand. “Hurry up.”

You widened your eyes at his extended hand, your eyes flicking to it and then back to his visor. After the medbay, you hardly imagined he’d be offering a hand to you again in a clinical setting, let alone to help you descend a boulder. You looked at his outstretched hand, letting a moment pass as you waited for him to retract it, but he didn’t.

This gesture was intentional.

You slowly placed your hand in his. His hand was as warm and strong as it was several days ago, and the familiarity of it made your insides jolt as you felt it wrap around your palm. The nerve endings in your hand tingled in excitement as they ignited from his touch. Heat coiled its warmth through your whole body as you crouched down to a sitting position, doing your best not to topple over not only from the wind. He helped you slide off the edge down to where he was standing, his hand steadying you.

You wobbled on your feet slightly as you landed, and you looked up at him, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet right now so you could discern his steely gaze. Though you had a feeling his bare face still would not betray anything of what was going on in his head.

Was he acknowledging what happened? Or was he just being considerate of the terrain?

Before you could open your mouth with a ‘thank you’, he let go of your hand and started walking up a pathway that seemed to wind up the mountain.

You guessed it was not the former.

You took in a shaky breath, body tingling with the remnants of his touch as you felt its cold absence and started after him; scanner poised as you walked.

The pathway up the mountain was wide enough to walk on, but too narrow to walk side by side comfortably without worry of falling over the edge. So, you trailed behind Crosshair once again, who had now slowed down that the route had grown more precarious. You clenched your jaw as you followed his steps carefully, avoiding any loose rocks as you walked. You tried not to think about the increasing ascension of the mountain, the ground below getting smaller and smaller the higher you both trekked as you continued to scan the side of the mountain for any trace of a viable source of the mineral, but still, there was nothing.

The higher you moved the wind that whipped around both your bodies increased as the clouds rolled in. You had to move your hand alongside the mountain as you waked, too afraid you’d blow away as the gusts of wind threatened to knock you over.

You’d been walking for a few hours by now and with the weather getting worse, the constant pace was starting to wear on you; arms and legs sore and feet aching, face stinging. You looked out over the cliff and saw you were almost halfway up, and the sky was getting darker as the storm continued to draw closer. Every time you looked, it seemed to be moving towards you quicker, so as much as you wanted to stop and rest, you knew that you couldn’t – especially when you looked ahead at Crosshair and saw he didn’t seem to show any signs of exhaustion.

Though you knew clones had been engineered to withstand increased levels of physical exertion, you still felt inadequate not being able to keep up. Even after two months with the squad, you still weren’t used to the physicality of the missions. You weren’t initially trained as a field medic, but you still didn’t want to look like you couldn’t handle this simple mission – even if it was more gruelling than you anticipated. So, you gritted your teeth and kept walking, despite the way your body protested with each step.

Crosshair began to slow before he stopped and turned to look at you. “Picking up anything?”

You shook your head and hoped you didn’t sound as puffed out as you felt. “Nothing viable. Not even a false read.”

Crosshair grumbled. “Another wild bantha chase.”

You tried to sound upbeat, but you weren’t fooling anyone. “Maybe the others have had more luck?”

“Maybe,” Crosshair said, his helmeted face drifting from you to the sky. He removed his helmet and scowled as the storm drew closer and closer to your position on the mountain. It was close enough now that you began to see flashes of lightning strike within the clouds, and you jolted when a crack of thunder sounded like it was almost on top of you.

“The storm is too close,” he said, shaking his head in concern.

“I know. Should we head back to the Marauder?”

“There’s no time. We need a pickup,” Crosshair sighed and placed his helmet back on, pressing the side of his helmet. “Hunter, do you copy?”

You watched him, hand gripping the mountain as the wind grew stronger with each passing second. You were starting to feel spits of rain hit your skin as more thunder and lightning struck. Your body was shaking with exhaustion and all you wanted to do was lie down in a safe place and fall asleep.

“Wrecker? Do you copy? Tech? Echo? Hunter, are you there?” Crosshair spoke into his comm, his voice getting harder with every word. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t reach them. There’s too much atmospheric interference with the storm, maybe even the gravity too.”

You looked at him and tried not to sound panicked, but you knew your face betrayed you anyway. “What do we do?”

A crack of thunder sounded, and it was like the sky was splitting open. The mountain shook under your feet, and you fell to your knees, yelping. You felt Crosshair crouch next to you, a hand on your back to steady you. You looked up at him as the rain started to pelt down heavily on you both. You tried to shield your face, but the rain was so heavy it felt like knives cutting as it hit the skin of your face.

Crosshair hooked a hand under your arm and hauled you up. “We have to move.”

“We need to get off this mountain!” You shouted over the rain.

“We need to find shelter. Come on,” Crosshair skirted you in front of him and you both started to run up the path in the pouring rain. You held a hand against your brow to try and see, but the rain and wind intensified more than you thought possible, blurring your vision.

“Crosshair, I can’t—”

You slipped on a rock loosened by the wet ground. You cried out and fell forward, landing on your hands harshly. You felt your palms sting as you tried to get to your feet, but Crosshair slid his hands under your armpits and lifted you just as there was a flash of bright light, and the mountain shook again, this time more violently. It felt like the lightning had hit the mountain this time, and when you tried to look up to check, your worst fears were confirmed as the sound of rocks tumbling began to get louder over the heavy rain. Panic coursed through your veins.

“Go!” Crosshair yelled, hand steady on your arm as you both ran, him pulling you forward. You could feel rocks landing behind you and you tried to run faster, skin numb from the rain.

“There’s a cave up ahead! Hurry!” Crosshair shouted as he led you towards the mouth of the cave. Your thighs and calves burned, and Crosshair pulled you inside just as rocks fell and covered the entrance of the cave, trapping you both inside.

You fell to your knees, catching your breath as you looked around and realised how dark it was. You’re eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so could barely see anything, but you heard Crosshair’s body hit the ground nearby as he sat down, grunting as he took his helmet off. His breath moved quickly too as you blinked and tried reaching out to see where he was.

“Crosshair?” you said, patting the hard ground next to you until you found his knee.

“I’m here,” he said, placing a hand over yours. You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled around yours. “You okay?” He asked, his voice raspy.

Your heartbeat which had only just started to slow, picked up again as he held your hand again. How many more times was this going to happen? Would you ever not freak out when he touched you now? Was that his intention?

You swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You felt the muscles in his hand flex. “Yeah.”

You took in a shaky breath and let him hold your hand again, relishing in the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours for a moment, so warm and solid. The feel of his knee under your palm, a part of the body you had originally thought completely savoury until this very moment. After a moment too long of no sound except the roaring rain on the other side of the rock, you cleared your throat before you felt around you with your other hand. “I can’t see.”

“I can.”

You blushed profusely and hoped to the Force you didn’t look as bewildered as you felt. “Right. Of course.”

Crosshair slowly let go of your hand but made a point of keeping your empty palm on his knee, like he knew you needed to feel him close by.

The word intentional flashed in your mind.

Your stomach turned over at the gesture and you wiped your face with your other hand, shoulders beginning to shake. You heard Crosshair take off his pack and scramble through it, pulling out a small light that he usually placed on the end of his rifle. He clicked it on, and you shielded your eyes, before blinking your vision clear. Now you could see Crosshair’s face half illuminated, his brow was creased as he held out the light to you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. You pointed it around the cave and realised it was not so much a cave, but an oversized cavity in the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and it looked like its width was only a little bigger than Crosshair was tall. But it had saved your lives. You looked behind you, at the rocks that had fallen there.

“How are we going to get out of here?” you asked, running the light over the edge of the cave to see if there were any openings, but there were none substantial enough for you to try and get leverage to move the rocks that blocked you both in. Some rain fell through the cracks, the water landing on the rock as the storm carried on outside. That was good – at least you had some airflow.

“We need to wait for the storm to pass before we can see if comms will work to call the others,” Crosshair explained. “If we can’t contact them, we’ll have to wait for them to find us.”

The thought of being trapped in here for an undetermined amount of time made your heartbeat begin to race. “And if they can’t find us?”

“They will.” Crosshair’s conviction was comforting. You’d learnt that his belief in his brothers was unwavering, and never misplaced. If he believed that they would find them, then you did too.

You looked at him, careful not to shine the light in his sensitive eyes. His gaze was on you, and this might’ve been the first time you didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes. As intense as his gaze was, it was soft, and the brown of his eyes shined in the low light. Your hand was still on his knee and your eyes flicked down to it. You didn’t know if removing it would make it more awkward, or if leaving it there would. In the split-second moment, you were debating it in your head, with your body still shaking when Crosshair interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re shivering,” Crosshair said. “You need to get dry.”

You looked up at him and realised just how much you were shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your clothes were soaked through from the downpour, and the chill was sinking into your bones. You knew that if you didn’t get dry, you would get hypothermic.

You held out the light to Crosshair to take, which he did wordlessly. With shaky hands, you pulled your med pack off your back and placed it in front of you. Crosshair shined the light where you needed it as you searched through the items for a reflective blanket and when you found it, you pulled it out, the light bouncing off the shiny fabric. You looked at Crosshair, heat crawling up your neck.

“Um, I need to…”

Crosshair turned his head immediately but kept the light pointed in your direction. As quickly as you could, embarrassment flooding your trembling frame, you removed the layers of clothes you had on. You kept on the black GAR issue bodysuit you wore under all your clothes, even if it was slightly damp – you weren’t going to be completely bare with just a blanket between you and Crosshair. As you stripped everything off, you noticed the palms of your hands were grazed from the fall, and it hurt to move them as the skin stretched. You would deal with it once you weren’t shivering anymore, but the priority right now was to get warm.

Once you piled all your clothes together – there was no hope in everything drying whilst you were stuck in here, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped the reflective blanket around you tightly.

“Okay.” You said and Crosshair looked over and he squinted as the light bounced off the blanket, gaze searching your frame.

“What about your hands?”

“My hands?”

“You fell. I saw your palms are grazed.”

He was so perceptive, you wondered what else he saw that he never acknowledged. “I’ll patch them up after I stop shaking,” you told him, wrapping the blanket tighter.

Crosshair shook his head. “Aren’t you always telling us that injuries should be treated as soon as possible? Give me this—” he pulled the med pack in front of him and pointed the light inside.

“Crosshair—” You said as he dug around your pack, pulling out some antibac wipes and bacta patches. “You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

Crosshair sent you a withering look before he placed the light between his teeth and gestured for you to show him your hands. You sighed and pulled your hands out of the blanket as best you could without it slipping off your shoulders. You turned your palms up, still slightly tremoring. They weren’t bleeding, but they were red and rubbed raw from the gravel you landed on. And they stung, but you were trying to be brave about it.

They were easily treatable, but your hands didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

Crosshair looked at them, adjusting the light in his mouth so they were completely illuminated before he shook his head with a frown, ripped open an antibac wipe, and cradled one of your hands in his.

He met your eyes, a silent question in their gentle expression as his hand was poised, wipe ready to be drawn across your palms. You’d never seen him look at you like this before; this softly. It was so easy for your crush to bloom when he looked at you like this. You looked into his brown-eyed gaze, cheeks heated, and you nodded.

Crosshair gently placed the wipe on your palms, and you sucked in a breath as it stung the exposed skin. You felt the hand that cradled yours tighten and then he slowly began to clean the wound. With his attention on your hand, you could watch him unabashedly. The roles between you had now reversed. He was treating your hands as attentively as you treated his. The way he held your hand in his large palm was so gentle that your heart fluttered. You could feel the heat permeate from under his gloves into your skin, and you felt your hand slowly begin to still, the warmth returning to you with his touch. You were so touched at the way he was doing this for you, without you even asking. The way he insisted upon it. You hadn’t expected it after the medbay, and you ignored the little voice in the back of your head that asked what his intention was and simply savoured this moment of kindness from the man you were hopelessly crushing on.

He was as methodical as he was when cleaning his rifle, wiping the wound on one hand in even strokes that coated all the raw skin twice before he moved to the other hand, a new wipe this time.

You watched the way the light was poised between his teeth, and when his eyes flicked to yours for a moment, you averted your gaze back to your hands reflexively. You heard him breathe out through his nose harshly as he discarded the wipe and grabbed a bacta patch, pressing it between his palms to warm the liquid. You watched him, your eyes meeting his tattooed gaze once again as your hands remained suspended between you.

You thought back to the medbay, at how his fingers had curled around yours so naturally like it was instinctual; at the way he pulled his hands away so quickly and so forcefully it was like your hands had been burnt; at how fast he’d left you standing there, reeling from his actions. You tried to think of what his intention had been, and what you had done that had made him retreat.

“I’m sorry…for the other day.” Your voice was quiet in the small space. The storm continued to rage outside, but there was no way he hadn’t heard you. Crosshair looked at you, knowing exactly what it was you were referring to, and placed the bacta patches in one hand before removing the light from his mouth to talk, confusion etched into his brow.

“Why?”

You brought your lips between your teeth as your eyes flicked between his. “Because I upset you.”

Crosshair looked at you for a moment, an undiscernible expression passed over his half-shadowed face as your eyes stayed locked on each other. What you would give to know what he was thinking, what thoughts swirled in his head. Two months of watching him had barely scratched the surface – you wanted to know everything, to be privy to the innermost workings of his mind.

Crosshair was the first to break his gaze, shaking his head.

“You didn’t upset me.”

You frowned at him, but before you could ask him what he meant, he had placed the end of the light back between his teeth and started applying the bacta patches to your palms, activating the adhesive and smoothing them down over your hands with his thumbs. He held one of your hands in both of his, his fingertips touching the back of your hand as he ran his thumbs along the edges of the bacta patch. He pressed them gently down, and you could already feel the bacta doing its job. He did the same thing to the other side.

You watched him and you realised you’d never felt so cared for before. Never had you been held so gently, treated with such practised methodical hands that were also so soft and caring. Your heart swelled.

He took the light out of his mouth. “Bandages?”

You cleared your throat. “They’re in the side pocket.”

Crosshair took some out and started wrapping your hands up so the bacta patch would be more secure. He was so good at this. With the light dangling from his teeth, he circled the bandage around one hand, before he tied it off and tucked the end, and then the same on the other side.

When he was done, he dropped his hands from yours and removed the light from his teeth for the final time.

You looked at your hands. You couldn’t have treated them better if you had done it yourself. You hadn’t even had to coach him through what to do, and that impressed you. It only made the warmth in your chest grow, that hopeless crush in full bloom and only growing more hopeless by the minute.

“Thank you,” you told him and pulled your hands back underneath the blanket.

Crosshair hummed and then placed the light up on its base between you both and leaned it against the rocks behind you, so the beam of light shined upwards and illuminated where you at. You watched him then sit back against the rock, stretching his long legs out in front of him and closing his eyes, sighing. You sat facing him and brought the blanket around you tighter. You no longer shivered, but you still wanted to be warmer than you were. You stared at the side of his face, Crosshair’s profile half-lit in the light. You gazed at the brown of his skin, the sliver of his hair, the slope of his nose, the purse of his lips. You noted the stubble lining his angled jawline, and wondered what it would feel like against your lips. He was beautiful.

“Crosshair?”

He only hummed again in response.

You tightened your hold on the blanket as you worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside you. You couldn’t sit here anymore and not know.

“If I didn’t upset you…what happened?”

Crosshair opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak straight away. It was like he was searching for the right words, the best way to explain what had happened. You waited patiently for him to answer, your anxiety only building in anticipation.

Crosshair scraped the sole of his foot on the floor of the cavity as he brought one of his knees to his chest, resting his elbow on it. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turn pink, but you weren’t sure in this light. “I…crossed a boundary, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

You blinked at him, confused. That was the last thing you expected him to say, especially his apology. “Boundary? What boundary?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair grumbled, his voice scratching.

“It does to me,” you told him gently.

He turned quiet again. He avoided your eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot on his knee, frown etching deeper into his brow. You wished he would look at you. All those times you caught him watching you, now you willed him to meet your gaze. If he looked at you, you would be able to tell him with your eyes that he could trust you with whatever it was he was having a hard time verbalising. That you wouldn’t judge him the way you knew so many people did. That you saw him, how underneath all that surly exterior was a kind heart who’d been wounded too many times. But he pointedly didn’t look at you, and all you wished to say would remain your secret.

Crosshair sighed, breaking the silence. “You’re our medic, that’s more important.”

That only puzzled you more. “More important than what?”

Quiet descended again, and after several moments, you tentatively reached out and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder pauldron. His eyes darted to you, wide like they were before in that medbay, and he shrugged you off, his voice hard and frustrated, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Just forget it. It won’t happen again.”

You watched him, and the way his hands were clenched on his knees. The way he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You recalled the panic in his eyes that you saw in the medbay when he allowed himself the comfort of holding your hand, and how he’d had that same expression just before. You thought back to all the times you caught him looking at you, the way his eyes never left you – even when it was just the two of you during check-ups. The way he brushed up next to you when standing in mission briefings. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch you when he was helping you or keeping you safe – because it was easier to hide behind those gestures than the curling of his fingers around yours alone in the medbay.

Intentional. Intentional. Intentional.

Oh. Oh.

You felt your heartbeat increase as heat rushed through your body, your stomach flipping over at the realisation. You bit the insides of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling before taking a breath. It all made sense now.

Crosshair wasn’t upset at you, he was embarrassed. The man who was so careful about everything he said and did, had one moment where he allowed himself to do something on a whim, and it had made him vulnerable. The impulse had revealed a secret part of himself he had always intended to keep hidden, and now it was out there, and he was embarrassed about it.

He was embarrassed because he thought you didn’t feel the same.

What a fool. A beautiful stupid fool.

Nerves rattled through your body, but you couldn’t sit here any longer and not let him know how you felt too. “Crosshair…” you said his name softly, barely above a whisper.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes stayed glued to the middle distance, his hands still clenched into fists. You let out a breath and held out your bandaged hands. At the movement in his periphery, his eyes slid towards your hands and then up to your face. You flexed your fingers, a silent signal to place his hands in yours. His mouth turned into a line and just when you thought he wouldn’t, he slowly placed one of his tight fists in your palms.

You cradled his hand, the back of it resting in your bandaged palm. As best you could with your other bandaged hand, you began to manually unfurl his fingers, spreading them out slowly against yours. He let you, his hand as pliable as it usually was when you did this – there was no apprehension in this moment, only trust. You began to slowly massage his hand, pressing and kneading the joints of his knuckles and the centre of his palm. Neither of you spoke, and the storm continued its fury on the other side of the rock, but it very well could’ve been a parsec away with how intimate this moment was. All you could focus on was him. You could feel him watching you, wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t let his intense gaze pull you away. Not anymore.

Once you reached the end of the massage, you slid your palm over his, fingers lined up. You moved your hand slowly like he was a baby tooka you had to coax into your lap, you were giving him time to pull away. You let your fingers fall between the gaps of his and then curled your fingers down, so you held his hand.

You felt him tense as he realised what was happening, and you looked at him, but his eyes were locked on your intertwined hands. You waited to see if he pulled away, but he didn’t. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his fingers still splayed out – but his palm stayed pressed into yours. You heard him take in a shaky breath as he finally looked at you.

His eyes had softened on the edges, but his shoulders were still tense, and he had an expression that looked like he was pleading with you; begging you not to play with him like this.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Is…is this the boundary?” you asked. You felt Crosshair shift, and his voice came out in a rasp and his ears were definitely pink in this dim light.

“Yes.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed his gently. “And me being your medic is more important than this?”

His reply came a second and a half later, all strained and breathy. “Yes.”

You looked at him, his tattooed gaze boring into your face. Ever the perceptive one, you could see he was trying to figure out what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You offered him a smile as you gave him the answer.

“This…this isn’t a boundary for me. Me being your medic has never mattered when it comes to this with you, and never will.”

You watched his eyes widen minutely, and if you didn’t know his face so well, you wouldn’t have noticed anything. But other than that almost indiscernible change in expression, Crosshair remained unmoving, his shoulders still rigid and his fingers still splayed out, not touching the back of your hand.

You searched his face and suddenly felt like you had completely misjudged his actions. Maybe he didn’t have the same crush on you, you did him. Maybe he had just held your hand by mistake, that what you thought had all been intentional, wasn’t actually intentional at all.

Your face burned and embarrassment flooded your body. You started to pull your hand away from him.

“But if it’s a boundary for you—”

But Crosshair’s fingers came down before you could rip your hand away, and he held your hand to his tightly, stopping your palm from leaving his. His hold was secure, warm and purposeful. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

“It’s not,” he told you, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. He looked at you, and he was more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You felt your heartbeat flutter. You knew this was hard for him, vulnerability of any kind wasn’t Crosshair’s comfort zone. You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could.

“Good.”

You felt his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxed. Your heart almost burst when you saw the corner of his mouth turn up at you – a smile that was yours and yours alone. You smiled at him, that warmth in your chest glowing brightly, making you feel so at home, you almost didn’t mind you were trapped in this space. You were with Crosshair, and that was enough.

You both sat there, holding hands in the torchlight. It was such an innocent kind of intimacy, but for you both, it held so much. So many unspoken feelings now known through the feel of your palms against each other. You never wanted to let go, and you suspected he didn’t either. You felt his finger muscles flex and you squeezed his hand. He lifted his thumb and placed it on top of yours, stroking it gently in a ministration so comforting you could’ve sobbed. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

A genuine Crosshair smile was a rare gift so few received. He kept them, saving them for the people he trusted and loved. To get one now, to see the corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile lines in his cheeks stretch in a closed-mouth smile, you felt honoured. You never imagined you would ever see Crosshair smile at you like this, to let you close like this – to let you close at all. The dim light of the cave had revealed the disappearing ink of his feelings, and it was extraordinary. You would tell him the full extent of what you felt for him in time, but for now, your feelings were wordlessly exchanged with just you two for witnesses.

You watched as Crosshair tentatively and wordlessly brought the back of your hand to his lips. With his tattooed gaze on you the whole time, he placed a lingering kiss there. You inhaled sharply at the gesture and the skin tingled under the bandage where he kissed you. The rain outside was heavy, but your heart felt light – like if you weren’t trapped in this space, you float away and join those rocks in the sky. You watched him pull away, brushing his lips on the spot for a moment before he let your hands drop between you.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his husky voice asked softly.

You chuckled, a grin stretching across your face. “Yes. More than okay.”

Crosshair hummed, his eyes smiling. “Good.”

The mountain shook again, and you looked around you frantically as dust from the cavity began to fall on you both. Crosshair pulled you against him, arms going around you as he shielded you to his chest. You held onto the edge of his chest plate so tight it dug into your fingers, your face pressed into his chest as he held you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on the mixed smell of soap and wood of Crosshair instead of the panic that coursed through you. When the tremor stopped, you looked up at him, and him at you.

“You okay?” he asked

“Yeah,” you lifted your head but didn’t dare untangle yourself from Crosshair’s arms.

Crosshair adjusted the blanket on your shoulders, pulling it tighter around you. “The longer this storm goes on, the more danger we’re in.”

“Should we try the comms again?”

Crosshair let go of you briefly to grab his helmet and put it on. “Hunter, come in. Tech? Wrecker? Echo? Do you read?”

You waited. Crosshair’s arm tightened on you, but he let out a frustrated sigh and pulled the helmet off roughly, setting it down next to him. “Still nothing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you sighed. “What do we do?”

“Wait.”

You groaned. Crosshair chuckled and you felt his hand run up and down your back soothingly. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed how much he cared for you. A man of few words, he let his actions show his feelings for you. And you had no doubts about it.

After a minute, you lifted your head to find him looking down at you intensely. You felt his arms tighten on you as this hand travelled down to your waist and stayed there. You blinked up at him, drawing your eyes across his face before they landed on his lips.

They had been so soft when they touched the back of your hand, what would they feel like pressed against your own? You’d dreamt about it, but you had a feeling that it would be nothing to the reality of it.

“N’edee?” His voice was quiet, but you feel the weight on them in your stomach.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, but there was nothing innocent about what was running through your mind right now.

“Can I test another boundary?” His tone was hesitant, careful as he leaned in a little closer to you.

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Which one?”

“This one.”

Crosshair slowly closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. It was like your whole body lit up inside, igniting you so completely you were aware of every nerve ending you had. Your fingers tightened on his armour just as Crosshair languidly pulled away after too brief a moment. You stared at him, dazed with your mouth parted slightly, and in need of more.

“Well?” he asked, his voice like silk.

You were breathless. “Not a boundary. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“If you insist,” he smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

Kissing Crosshair was an all-consuming kind of feeling. That magnetic pull he already had on you only seemed to intensify the minute his lips descended on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you onto his lap, your thighs falling on either side of his as you straddled him, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders – not that you needed it anymore with the heat that thrummed through you.

You melted into the kiss, and you were right – your dreams of his lips were nothing compared to the real thing. You felt the tickle of his breath on your cheek as you arched yourself closer to him. With just your body suit on, you could feel every hard ridge of his armour against you. His arms moved across your back, and you could feel his fingertips searing along your shoulder blades. His hot mouth moved against yours and you allowed yourself to nip at his lips. You felt him flinch before his lips stretched into a smile against yours, a chuckle vibrating his chest.

“Guess you do have some bite, N’edee,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Just for you,” you breathed, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper.

He was just as starved for you as you were for him, and you wondered how long exactly he’d been feeling like this towards you, but you’d ask such questions later. His mouth was heavenly, his lips like a caress against yours. Your lips parted and he took the chance to deepen the kiss as you dragged your hands up into his buzzed hair, feeling the short strands against your fingernails. And you felt just how skilled he was his tongue as it slid against yours, and you silently thanked his toothpicks for giving him the practice.

You’d never been kissed with such passion before, with such intention. Now, he was no longer embarrassed, he did not hold back his kisses and touches. That knowledge made it all the more thrilling as Crosshair pressed you into him, pulling your hips against his with hands that you knew to be tender, but now held with you with such desire you felt dizzy.

He moved his lips down your jawline to just below your ear, and you panted as you tightened your arms around him, rocking into him. He sucked the skin there, his tongue darting out and wetting the area. It made you moan so loudly you were glad no one else could hear how desperate you sounded.

“Crosshair,” you moaned.

You felt him smirk against your skin before he made his way back to your lips. Groaning into your mouth again, you felt his hands move from your hips to your ass and back up again, and you felt your body go into overdrive, pulsing with a wanting need. Where did he learn to kiss like this? You wanted to thank whatever Kaminaon training module taught him, or the illicit holos you knew Tech had stashed on the locked-down data drive you found a week after you joined them – whichever it was.

You were so lost in his kisses, the way they grew in fervour with each press against your skin, you almost didn’t hear the beeping of Crosshair’s comm in his helmet.

“Crosshair,” you said when you finally heard it, pulling away, but his mouth just found your neck instead. You patted his shoulder. “Crosshair, the comm.”

“What?” he said raggedly. His lips ceased their attentions, and he pulled back. His lips were all swollen and you smiled at the knowledge that was all you. You stayed perched in his lap and he grabbed his helmet and put it on. You could hear the other voice when you were this close to him.

“Crosshair, come in.” It was Hunter.

“Copy, Hunter,” Crosshair said, and you mentally applauded him for not sounding as breathless as you would’ve.

“Are you and N’edee okay?”

Crosshair’s hand squeezed your thigh, and you squirmed on top of him, smiling. “For the moment. We’re trapped on the mountain. The storm caused a cave-in, and we can't get out.”

“We’ll lock in on your signal and fly to your location. Stand by.” You realised then the rain and thunder had stopped, and that the storm had now passed.

“Copy,” Crosshair said before he removed his helmet and placed it next to him again, and you both looked at each other. He gripped your hips. “They’re on their way in the Marauder. Wrecker will be able to push the rocks out of the way, and we’ll be free.”

You breathed in, relieved help was coming. “I didn’t even realise the storm had passed,”

“Well, we were busy,” Crosshair snided.

“Right,” you laughed lightly.

Crosshair looked away from you for the first time since everything changed between you, and his hands on your hips loosened. You frowned as you watched his once open expression, slowly begin to close off again in the dim light. He looked uncertain, all in his own head again and you realised that he was worried – worried that this moment together was but a brief interlude in which you got caught up in the danger of the situation. You wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him he was being absurd, how he could think such a thing after all you just said and did. But you didn’t, because like baby tooka, Crosshair needed gentle reassurance; that his vulnerability and his feelings were not being played with.

Later, when you had more time and were back on the Marauder and tucked away in the medbay just the two of you again, you would tell him just how much he had nestled his way into your heart. That your crush was much more than that, that you saw all of him, and though you were still learning to decipher the riddles he was made of, you never wanted to stop. That you saw all his intentions, and now yours was to hold his heart in your bandaged hands the way he held yours.

But for now, in your final moments alone with him before his brothers rescued you both, you locked your eyes on him and gently grabbed the hands that had slackened on your hips, linking your fingers together once more. You watched his eyes find yours, his brows slanted at the ends as he looked at you with all this apprehension. You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them, lips lingering there as you let the gesture convey wordlessly your intention to keep nurturing what was between you for as long as he let you. That this didn’t end once you were both bathed in sunlight again.

“I hope we’ll be busy again later? And many laters after that too?”

Crosshair’s shoulder relaxed and you smiled as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes smiling as he squeezed your hands once more. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! if you made it this far, thank you! i appreciate it so much! this is the longest standalone fic i've ever written!

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Unveiling the Surge in Medical Tourism: Quality and Affordable Hair Transplant in Turkey

Turkey has dramatically risen to prominence in the realm of hair transplantation, leading the way in medical tourism across the globe. The country's respected reputation in this field is not unwarranted. With a combination of experienced surgeons, quality hair transplant procedures, and affordable costs, Turkey has very much become a go-to destination for those seeking to regain their luscious locks.

The quality of hair transplant procedures is a crucial factor that attracts countless individuals to Turkey. The country's healthcare infrastructure boasts a wealth of experienced surgeons with expertise in transplantation. These surgeons are well-versed in the latest techniques and technologies, ensuring that each hair transplant procedure is performed with the utmost precision and effectiveness.

Furthermore, the quality of hair transplant in Turkey is not compromised by affordability. In fact, it is the country's ability to offer premium services at a fraction of the cost that has propelled Turkey to the forefront of medical tourism. The affordability of a hair transplant in Turkey allows individuals from all walks of life to access this transformative procedure without breaking the bank.

One of the key aspects that sets Turkey apart in the hair transplant industry is its focus on patient consultation. Prior to any procedure, patients are offered a comprehensive hair transplant consultation. This important step allows the surgeon to assess the patient's hair loss condition, discuss the most suitable treatment options, and answer any queries that the patient may have. Through this consultative approach, patients are assured that their specific needs and expectations are understood and catered to.

In conclusion, the rise in medical tourism for hair transplants in Turkey is a reflection of the country's commitment to providing quality, affordable services. With experienced surgeons, expertise in transplantation, and a patient-centric approach, Turkey continues to solidify its position as a leading destination for hair transplantation.

Non-Surgical Solutions for Hair Loss: Exploring Hair Transplant Opportunities in Turkey

In the quest for a hair loss solution, many individuals grappling with balding are turning their attention to hair restoration options in Turkey. This country has emerged as an epicenter for hair regrowth treatments, offering a range of solutions to help combat the effects of hair loss.

One of the most prominent methods used in Turkey is hair transplantation. This procedure involves the removal of donor hair from areas of the scalp where hair growth is still abundant. These healthy hair follicles are then carefully implanted into the areas experiencing hair loss, encouraging natural hair growth.

A major advantage of hair transplantation is that it allows for hairline reconstruction. If you're dealing with a receding hairline, this procedure can help restore your hair to its former glory. It's not just about improving appearance, but also about enhancing self-confidence and overall quality of life.

Many individuals are drawn to this form of hair restoration because it provides a non-surgical treatment option for balding. While it's a medical procedure, it's less invasive than some other hair loss solutions, making it a popular choice for those who are wary of going under the knife.

But it's not just the non-surgical aspect that makes this treatment appealing. Hair transplantation in Turkey offers a highly effective method for hair regrowth. It provides a long-term solution to hair loss, promoting the growth of natural hair that can last for years.

The procedure also includes scalp treatments, which can help to nourish and strengthen the hair follicles, ensuring the best possible results from the transplant. These treatments can help to create a healthier scalp environment, which is crucial for promoting natural hair growth.

In conclusion, for those battling with hair loss and searching for a viable solution, hair transplantation in Turkey presents a promising option. With its non-surgical treatment approach, ability to enable natural hair growth, and potential for hairline reconstruction, itâ€™s no wonder that this method of hair restoration is gaining popularity around the globe.

Understanding the Surgical Procedure of Hair Transplant Surgery in Turkey

Hair transplant in Turkey is becoming increasingly popular due to its high success rate and affordability. The surgical procedure entails two primary methods, namely FUE Hair Transplant Turkey and Follicular Unit Transplantation (FUT). Both these procedures have their unique features and benefits, making them ideal for different types of hair loss cases.

Follicular Unit Extraction (FUE) is one of the innovative hair transplant procedures employed in Turkey. In this method, individual hair follicles are extracted from the donor area, typically the back of the scalp, and then implanted into the balding or thinning areas. Because this procedure doesn't involve any stitching, it leaves minimal scars, making it a preferred choice among many individuals. FUE is also known for its faster recovery time compared to other hair transplant surgery methods.

On the other hand, Follicular Unit Transplantation (FUT) is a more traditional method of hair surgery. The procedure involves removing a strip of skin from the donor area, from which hair follicles are then extracted and transplanted into the affected areas. Though this procedure may leave a linear scar, it allows for a larger number of grafts to be transplanted in one session, making it suitable for individuals with extensive hair loss.

Regardless of the chosen method, the ultimate aim of best hair transplant in Turkey is to restore the hairline and increase hair density, thereby boosting the individualâ€™s confidence and self-esteem. It's also important to note that while these procedures are effective, they require a high level of expertise to ensure natural-looking results.

In conclusion, the surgical procedure for a hair transplant in Turkey, whether follicular unit extraction or follicular unit transplantation, is a significant decision to make. It's crucial to understand the process involved, the potential outcomes, and the recovery time to set realistic expectations for the hair transplant procedure. As always, consulting a professional to discuss your hair loss concerns and treatment options is highly recommended.

Understanding Different Types of Hair Loss: A Key to Successful Hair Transplant in Turkey

Hair loss, an issue affecting millions of people worldwide, has been a significant concern for both men and women. In Turkey, a country renowned for its advanced medical facilities and experienced professionals, hair transplant procedures have seen a surge in popularity. Before deciding to undergo this procedure, it's crucial to understand the different types of hair loss.

Alopecia, a medical term for hair loss, comes in various forms and affects people differently. It can be categorized as permanent or temporary, with each type involving different causes and treatments.

Androgenetic alopecia, also known as male pattern baldness or female pattern baldness, is the most common type of permanent hair loss. It is a condition that affects both genders, although men tend to experience it more frequently. This form of alopecia is characterized by a distinct pattern of hair thinning, often resulting in a receding hairline. For men, it usually starts at the temples and crown, while women typically notice hair thinning on the top portion of their heads.

Temporary hair loss, on the other hand, can result from various factors such as stress, hormonal changes, or medication side effects. This type of hair loss is usually reversible once the underlying cause has been addressed.

Hair thinning, another prevalent concern, can be a precursor to more severe hair loss. It can be caused by numerous factors, including aging, hormonal imbalances, or nutritional deficiencies. In most cases, hair thinning progressively worsens over time, making early detection and treatment crucial.

In Turkey, hair transplant treatment for both male and female pattern baldness has evolved over the years. Advanced procedures are now available to address different types of hair loss, including those suffering from a receding hairline.

A hair transplant in Turkey offers a promising solution to those grappling with the emotional and psychological effects of hair loss. However, understanding your specific type of hair loss is vital before considering this procedure. This knowledge will help you and your medical professional tailor a treatment plan that best suits your needs.

Understanding the Process and Advantages of Hair Transplant in Turkey

In the ever-evolving field of hair restoration, Turkey has emerged as a leading destination, offering a variety of hair transplant procedures. Among these, tissue expansion, scalp reduction, and the transplantation of hair follicles are among the most popular procedures.

Tissue expansion is a prevalent procedure performed in Turkey. It involves the insertion of a balloon-like device under an area of hairy scalp. The device is then gradually inflated with saline over a period of weeks, causing the skin to stretch and grow more skin cells. This method allows for a significant increase in the coverage area for the transplanted hair, resulting in a natural, full look.

Another common procedure is scalp reduction. This surgical technique reduces the area of bald skin on the head by removing it and stretching the areas with hair closer together. The result is a reduced coverage area to transplant which means fewer hair grafts are needed, saving both time and resources.

The core of all hair transplant procedures is the transplantation of hair follicles. In Turkey, hair specialists extract healthy follicles from dense areas of the scalp and carefully implant them into the balding or thinning areas. The transplanted hair follicles are expected to retain their high hair density even in the new location, providing a long-lasting solution for hair loss.

One of the crucial factors that contribute to the success of the hair transplant procedures is hair density. A density measurement is carried out before the procedure to determine the number of hair follicles present per square inch of the scalp. This information helps in deciding how many hair grafts are required to achieve the desired density throughout the coverage area.

In conclusion, hair transplant in Turkey employs advanced procedures like tissue expansion, scalp reduction, and transplantation of hair follicles to restore hair density and coverage area. The high success rate of these procedures has made Turkey a go-to destination for people seeking a permanent solution to hair loss. The future of hair transplantation looks promising, with continual advancements in techniques and technology.

Harnessing the Power of Regenerative Medicine in Hair Transplant Techniques in Turkey

In recent years, Turkey has become a global hub for hair transplant procedures, thanks to the innovative transplant techniques and technology being used. This has been largely driven by advancements in regenerative medicine, a rapidly evolving field that focuses on replacing or regenerating human cells, tissues, or organs to restore normal function. One of the most promising innovations in this space is hair cloning.

Hair cloning, a cutting-edge transplant technology, has been a game-changer in the field of hair transplant methods. It involves the extraction of healthy dermal papilla cells - the cells at the base of the hair follicle that are responsible for hair growth. These cells are then cultured in a laboratory, where they multiply. The multiplied cells are then injected back into the patient's scalp, where they continue to multiply and stimulate new hair growth.

This technique offers significant advantages over traditional hair transplant methods. For starters, it eliminates the need to harvest a large number of hair follicles from a donor area, reducing the time and discomfort associated with the procedure. Additionally, it holds the potential to produce a limitless supply of hair follicles, potentially offering a permanent solution for those suffering from hair loss.

Moreover, the evolution of hair transplant techniques in Turkey has been remarkable. From the conventional strip method to the more advanced follicular unit extraction (FUE), Turkey has been at the forefront of adopting and perfecting these techniques. The focus on minimally invasive procedures, coupled with the use of state-of-the-art transplant technology, has made the country a preferred destination for those seeking hair transplant procedures.

To sum up, the future of hair transplant in Turkey looks promising, thanks to the advances in regenerative medicine and the adoption of innovative hair transplant techniques. Whether it's the use of dermal papilla cells in hair cloning or the constant refinement of transplant techniques, Turkey's hair transplant sector continues to push the boundaries of what's possible, offering hope to millions of people worldwide who are affected by hair loss.

Pre-Operative Assessment and Post-Operative Care in Hair Transplant Procedures in Turkey

In the domain of hair transplant surgery, the pre-operative assessment is a vital step in ensuring a successful outcome. This comprehensive evaluation is specifically designed to ensure the patient is an ideal candidate for the procedure. In Turkey, renowned for its expertise in hair transplant procedures, the pre-operative assessment involves a thorough examination of the patient's medical history and current health status. This detailed evaluation helps in designing a transplant procedure that ensures optimal results tailored to the individual's unique needs and preferences.

Transplant pre-operative instructions are also an integral part of the assessment phase. These guidelines, provided by the medical team, inform the patients about necessary preparations before the surgery, including dietary restrictions, medication adjustments, and lifestyle modifications. Adherence to these instructions is crucial for reducing potential complications and promoting a smooth transplant recovery time.

Moving on to the post-operative care, this facet is equally significant in the hair transplant procedure. After the surgery, patients are provided with clear and detailed transplant post-operative instructions. These instructions may encompass various aspects such as wound care, activity restrictions, and signs of complications to monitor. Following these post-operative instructions meticulously plays a key role in the successful healing of the transplant site and minimizing any potential side-effects.

The transplant healing process is a gradual journey and requires patience and proper care. In most cases, the transplant recovery time can vary based on individual factors such as the patient's overall health and the extent of the transplant procedure. However, with diligent adherence to the post-operative care instructions, most patients can expect to see the initial results of their hair transplant within a few months.

To sum up, the process of hair transplant in Turkey, from the pre-operative assessment to the post-operative care, is a comprehensive journey that requires adherence to transplant pre-operative and post-operative instructions. This commitment not only reduces the transplant recovery time but also maximizes the effectiveness of the procedure, paving the way for a successful and satisfying hair restoration experience.

Understanding the Risks, Success Rates, Side Effects, and Alternatives of Hair Transplant in Turkey

Hair transplant in Turkey has become a popular solution for individuals dealing with hair loss or thinning hair. However, like all medical procedures, it's important to understand the transplant risks, side effects, and success rate before making a decision.

When considering a hair transplant, one of the first aspects you might be curious about is the transplant success rate. The success rate of hair transplants in Turkey is generally high, but it can vary depending on individual factors such as the patient's general health, the extent of their hair loss, and the quality of their donor hair.

Understanding the potential transplant risks is also crucial. Some common risks include infection, scarring, unnatural-looking hair, and the possibility that some of the transplanted hair follicles won't "take," or start growing hair. There may also be side effects such as swelling, bruising, and temporary hair shedding.

Post-procedure, transplant results can be a significant concern. Typically, it takes a few months to start seeing the full results, and the transplanted hair should look natural and blend in with the rest of your hair. However, results can vary based on individual factors.

While hair transplants can be an effective solution for many, it's not the only option. There are several effective transplant alternatives to consider. These may include medications that slow hair loss, laser therapy to stimulate hair growth, and lifestyle changes like a healthier diet and stress management.

In conclusion, a hair transplant in Turkey can be an effective solution for hair loss, but it's essential to understand the risks, side effects, and success rate. Alternatives are also available for those who may not be ideal candidates for a transplant.

Unveiling the Secrets of Hair Transplant in Turkey: Cost, Benefits, and Visual Evidence

Firstly, the cost of hair transplant in Turkey has been a significant factor attracting thousands of individuals worldwide. The country offers competitive prices compared to other nations, making it a preferred destination for those seeking hair transplant solutions. However, it is essential to note that the final hair transplant cost can vary based on several factors, including the complexity of the procedure, the extent of hair loss, and the specific technique used.

Next, let's highlight the numerous hair transplantation benefits that this procedure offers. Hair transplant in Turkey promises a permanent solution to hair loss, providing individuals with a renewed sense of confidence and self-esteem. The procedure also boasts a high success rate, with most patients experiencing significant hair growth within a year after the transplant. Additionally, the recovery period is typically swift, with minimal discomfort or side effects, allowing patients to resume their normal activities shortly after the procedure.

It's also important to see hair transplant before and after images and videos. They serve as visual evidence of successful procedures and can help potential patients understand what to expect. Although individual results can vary, these hair transplant images and videos generally depict a significant improvement in hair density and coverage.

Lastly, reading hair transplant reviews can be incredibly beneficial for anyone considering the procedure. These reviews offer first-hand experiences from patients who have undergone the procedure, providing insights into the process, recovery, and results. The overwhelmingly positive hair transplant reviews from Turkey often highlight the professionalism of the medical teams, the quality of care received, and, most importantly, the satisfactory results.

In conclusion, hair transplant in Turkey offers a cost-effective solution with numerous benefits. The procedure's success is evident in the before and after images, videos, and the countless positive reviews from satisfied patients. As with any medical procedure, it's crucial to conduct thorough research and consult with a medical professional to ensure it's the best option for you.

Navigating the World of Hair Transplant in Turkey: Insights from Blogs, Articles, Forums and Personal Experiences

When considering a hair transplant in Turkey, it's crucial to arm yourself with the latest information and research. One of the best ways to do this is by diving into the wealth of knowledge available on hair transplant blogs, articles, and forums.

Hair transplant blogs are a treasure trove of information. They often contain real-life accounts of people who have undergone the procedure, providing an insider's perspective on what to expect. These blogs also frequently feature expert advice and tips to help guide you through the process.

In addition to blogs, hair transplant articles are another valuable source of information. These pieces delve into the science behind the procedure, discussing the latest techniques and technologies used in hair transplants. They can provide a more technical perspective, helping you understand the intricacies of the procedure.

For a more interactive experience, consider joining a hair transplant forum. These online platforms offer a place for individuals considering or who have undergone a hair transplant to share their experiences, ask questions, and offer support. They can be a great place to gather practical advice and find out about the latest hair transplant news.

Another invaluable resource is hair transplant research. These studies can shed light on the efficacy and safety of various techniques. Understanding the science behind the process can help you make a more informed decision.

Finally, never underestimate the importance of personal hair transplant experiences. Hearing first-hand accounts can provide an honest and realistic view of what to expect. These stories can provide comfort, offer tips, and help you prepare for your own journey.

In summary, when considering a hair transplant in Turkey, make use of the rich resources available in hair transplant blogs, articles, forums, research, and personal experiences. They can provide you with a well-rounded view, ensuring you are well-informed and prepared for your procedure.

Understanding the Hair Transplant Process: A Comprehensive Quiz, Testimonials, FAQs, and More

Embarking on the journey of a hair transplant in Turkey can be a significant decision. It is a process that involves not only the actual procedure but also managing transplant expectations, monitoring transplant progress, and understanding transplant maintenance. This section aims to provide you with a comprehensive guide on these critical aspects.

Before you decide to undergo a hair transplant, it is essential to evaluate your understanding of the process and your readiness. This is where a hair transplant quiz can come in handy. It can assess your knowledge about the procedure, its benefits, and potential risks. The quiz can help you understand if you have realistic expectations about the results.

In addition to a hair transplant quiz, hair transplant testimonials can also provide valuable insights. These accounts from individuals who have undergone the procedure can shed light on the actual experiences and outcomes. They can give you a glimpse of what to expect, from the initial consultation to the recovery period.

Another resource that can be beneficial is a collection of hair transplant FAQs, or frequently asked questions. These address common concerns and queries about the procedure. From understanding the techniques used to knowing about the recovery process, these FAQs can offer a wealth of information for potential candidates.

Managing transplant expectations is a critical part of the process. It's important to remember that results can vary from person to person. Factors such as the individual's hair type, the extent of hair loss, and the overall health of the person can impact the outcomes.

Monitoring your transplant progress is another aspect that needs attention. Regular follow-ups with your medical team can ensure that the recovery is on track, and any complications are addressed promptly. This ongoing monitoring can also help in evaluating the success of the transplant.

Finally, understanding transplant maintenance is essential for long-lasting results. This involves proper hair care practices post-transplant, including a suitable hair care regime, healthy lifestyle choices, and regular check-ups.

In conclusion, getting a hair transplant in Turkey involves more than just the procedure. It's a comprehensive process that requires adequate knowledge, realistic expectations, and diligent maintenance. Armed with resources like a hair transplant quiz, testimonials, and FAQs, you can make a well-informed decision and navigate the journey successfully.

Understanding the Process of Hair Transplant in Turkey: A Closer Look at the Tools and Techniques

When considering a hair transplant in Turkey, it is essential to understand the process, which includes a hair transplant analysis, scalp examination, the use of local anesthesia, and the actual transplant session. This article delves into the importance of these stages and the specific transplant tools employed during the procedure.

The first essential stage of a hair transplant is the hair transplant analysis. This thorough evaluation is conducted to assess the individual's hair loss pattern, the condition of the donor area, and the best possible treatment approach. The analysis provides a comprehensive understanding of the patient's hair situation, which is critical for successful surgical hair restoration.

A scalp examination is the next crucial step in the process. Using specialized hair transplant equipment like a hair transplant microscope, the surgeon can clearly view the scalp's condition. The purpose of this examination is to identify any underlying conditions that might affect the transplant's success, such as scalp infections or diseases. It also helps in mapping out the area for the transplant, determining the number of grafts needed, and planning the hairline design.

The use of local anesthesia is another essential part of the hair transplant process in Turkey. It helps numb the scalp area, ensuring that the patient feels no pain during the procedure. This step is vital for a comfortable and pain-free transplant session.

The actual transplant session is where the magic happens. Specialized hair transplant tools play a critical role in this process. These include the hair transplant microscope, which aids in the precise extraction and implantation of hair follicles, ensuring that each graft is handled with care to maximize its survival rate.

Finally, the surgical hair restoration process utilizes advanced hair transplant equipment to ensure the best results. These tools aid in the precise extraction and implantation of grafts, ensuring that each follicle is placed in the correct direction and angle for a natural-looking result.

In conclusion, a hair transplant in Turkey involves a comprehensive process that includes a detailed hair transplant analysis, a thorough scalp examination, the use of local anesthesia, and a meticulously conducted transplant session. The use of specialized hair transplant tools and equipment is critical in ensuring the success of the procedure.

Vital Aspects of Hair Transplantation: Follow-up, Guarantee, Tips, Advice, Support, and Community

Hair transplantation in Turkey has experienced a considerable surge in popularity over the years due to its advanced techniques, experienced professionals, and affordable costs. However, the process involves more than just the surgery itself. It encompasses a comprehensive journey which includes the transplant follow-up, transplant guarantee, and an array of hair transplant tips and advice to ensure optimal results.

The transplant follow-up is a critical aspect of the hair transplant journey. It involves regular check-ins with the medical team to monitor the progress of the transplant and to address any potential complications that may arise. These follow-ups are usually scheduled at regular intervals and provide an opportunity to discuss any concerns or questions about the healing process or the results of the transplant.

In addition to follow-up appointments, a comprehensive hair transplant plan should also include a transplant guarantee. This guarantee serves as an assurance to the patient that the transplantation will be successful and that any issues that might arise will be addressed promptly and professionally. It is a significant indicator of the commitment of the professionals in ensuring a satisfactory outcome.

Hair transplant tips and advice are also integral components of the entire journey. These tips, ranging from pre-operative care suggestions to post-operative recovery guidelines, help patients prepare for the transplant procedure and ensure the best possible results. Moreover, the advice can provide insights into what to expect during the healing process, how to care for the transplanted hair, and when to expect hair growth.

Hair transplant support extends beyond the medical team and involves a broader network, including the hair transplant community. This community, often formed by individuals who have undergone or are considering a hair transplant, can provide a sense of camaraderie and shared experiences. It can serve as a valuable resource for advice, encouragement, and support throughout the hair transplant journey.

In conclusion, a successful hair transplant involves more than just the surgery. It's a comprehensive process that includes a consistent transplant follow-up, a solid transplant guarantee, effective hair transplant tips and advice, and a supportive hair transplant community. Understanding these aspects can lead to a more informed decision, ensuring a positive experience and satisfactory results.

Unraveling the Evolution and Innovations in the Hair Transplant Industry in Turkey

The hair transplant industry in Turkey has grown and evolved incredibly over the years. Looking back at the hair transplant history, it is fascinating to observe how much the field has changed and improved. It all began with the introduction of basic hair transplant techniques, which have now evolved into highly sophisticated methods. The country's robust training programs and strict regulations have made it a leading destination for this procedure.

Hair transplant trends have always been dynamic, continuously adapting to the needs and demands of patients worldwide. In Turkey, the trends have evolved from the use of basic hair transplant techniques to the adoption of more advanced and less invasive methods. This evolution is a testament to the continuous innovation and development in the hair transplant industry in Turkey.

One of the most noteworthy hair transplant innovations in Turkey is the introduction of the FUE (Follicular Unit Extraction) technique. This method has revolutionized the industry, providing a more efficient and less invasive way of transplanting hair. It has set a new standard in the field and has become a pivotal part of hair transplant training in Turkey.

Training plays a crucial role in the success and credibility of the hair transplant industry in Turkey. The country has made significant strides in offering comprehensive hair transplant training programs. These programs ensure that practitioners are well-equipped with the latest techniques and trends in the industry, enabling them to provide the best possible service to their patients.

In addition to innovative techniques and robust training, the hair transplant industry in Turkey is also marked by strict regulations. The hair transplant regulation in the country ensures that all procedures are carried out according to the highest standards of safety and efficiency. This helps to maintain the credibility of the industry and the trust of patients from all over the world.

In conclusion, the hair transplant industry in Turkey is a dynamic and evolving field, marked by continual innovation, comprehensive training, and strict regulation. It is a testament to the country's commitment to offering the best possible service to patients seeking hair transplant procedures. As the industry continues to evolve, it is exciting to imagine what the future holds for hair transplant trends in Turkey.

Ensuring Quality Control in the Hair Transplant Market: Updates, Studies, and Resources

The hair transplant market in Turkey has been experiencing a significant surge in recent years. This is largely due to the high-quality services offered at competitive prices. However, one crucial element that has continued to propel the market's growth is the emphasis on ensuring strict hair transplant quality control measures.

Quality control in hair transplant involves a systematic regulation of the procedures and processes involved in hair transplant operations. These measures are put in place to maintain the highest possible standards of service and ensure optimal results for patients. The use of the most up-to-date hair transplant updates and techniques is a key aspect of this process.

The hair transplant market is constantly evolving, with new research and hair transplant studies emerging regularly. These studies provide invaluable insights into the most effective methods of hair transplant and often lead to the development of advanced techniques. They serve as vital resources for both professionals in the field and individuals considering undergoing hair transplant surgery.

However, understanding these hair transplant updates and studies can often be daunting for the uninitiated. This is where hair transplant resources come in. Such resources are designed to break down complex studies into easy-to-understand information, providing potential patients with a wealth of knowledge about the procedure.

Among these resources, hair transplant guides prove extremely useful. These guides offer detailed explanations of the entire hair transplant process, from pre-operation preparations to post-operation care. They also cover various aspects of the procedure, such as the different techniques used, potential risks involved, and what to expect during recovery.

Moreover, a hair transplant glossary can be a handy tool for those unfamiliar with the terminologies used in the industry. Understanding these terms can significantly enhance one's comprehension of the procedure and hence, contribute to a more informed decision-making process.

In conclusion, the emphasis on hair transplant quality control, coupled with the availability of comprehensive hair transplant updates, studies, and resources, has greatly contributed to the robust growth of the hair transplant market in Turkey. It has not only boosted the confidence of potential patients but also elevated the standards of the industry as a whole.

Unraveling the Hair Transplant Network in Turkey: Facts, Statistics and Resources

In recent years, Turkey has established a strong reputation as a leading destination for hair transplant procedures. But before deciding on this life-changing procedure, it's important to have the right information at your fingertips. Luckily, resources like a hair transplant book, directory, and network are readily available, offering a wealth of knowledge on this topic.

A hair transplant book can provide an in-depth understanding of the procedure. It typically covers a wide range of topics, from understanding hair loss and its causes, to the different hair transplant techniques available. It gives an insight into the procedure's intricate details, helping potential patients to make informed decisions about their hair restoration journey.

On the other hand, a hair transplant directory is a comprehensive resource that provides vital information about the hair transplant network in Turkey. It contains a list of the clinics, their location, and services they offer. This way, you can compare and contrast different clinics to choose the one that fits your needs best.

The hair transplant network is a broader platform that connects patients, surgeons, and clinics. It is a community of people who share their experiences, advice, and recommendations. This network can be an invaluable resource for anyone considering a hair transplant in Turkey.

Looking at hair transplant statistics can also be helpful in understanding the success rate of this procedure in Turkey. These statistics provide a numerical perspective on the number of successful surgeries carried out, the rates of satisfaction among patients, and the percentage of patients who experienced significant hair growth post-operation.

Lastly, understanding hair transplant facts is crucial. These facts highlight the realistic expectations one should have from the procedure. They explain how factors like age, hair type, and the extent of hair loss can influence the results. They also shed light on the recovery process and aftercare measures.

In conclusion, acquiring knowledge from resources such as a hair transplant book, directory, and network, along with understanding the related statistics and facts, can significantly help anyone considering a hair transplant in Turkey. This wealth of information can guide you towards a successful hair restoration journey, making you confident and informed about your decision.

Debunking Hair Transplant Misconceptions: Understanding Terminology and Criteria in Turkey

In the realm of cosmetic procedures, hair transplant in Turkey has emerged as a popular option for individuals seeking to address hair loss. However, there are numerous hair transplant misconceptions and myths that often cloud the patient's understanding of the procedure. This section aims to debunk these misconceptions, clarify hair transplant terminology, and outline the critical hair transplant criteria to consider.

One of the prevalent hair transplant misconceptions is that the procedure is only for men. This is a myth. Hair transplant procedures are effective for both men and women suffering from significant hair loss. Another common myth is that hair transplants are always noticeable. With advancements in medical technology, hair transplants now achieve natural-looking results, making it difficult for people to tell whether someone has undergone the procedure.

Understanding hair transplant terminology is crucial for individuals considering the procedure. The term 'graft,' for instance, refers to a piece of skin containing hair follicles that is moved from the donor area to the balding or thinning area. Another commonly used term is 'FUE,' which stands for Follicular Unit Extraction, a popular hair transplant method that involves extracting individual hair follicles and implanting them in the balding areas.

The hair transplant definitions can be complex, but they are an integral part of the process. For instance, the 'donor area' refers to the area of the scalp where hair follicles are extracted for transplantation. 'Recipient area,' on the other hand, designates the area where the follicles are implanted.

Lastly, the hair transplant criteria in Turkey are quite stringent to ensure patient safety and satisfaction. A potential candidate must have a sufficient donor area from which hair can be harvested. Furthermore, the individual should be in good general health to tolerate the procedure and heal properly afterwards. It is also essential that the patient has realistic expectations about the results of a hair transplant.

In conclusion, understanding the misconceptions, terminology, definitions, and criteria associated with hair transplants can greatly enhance a patient's decision-making process and overall experience with hair transplants in Turkey.

Navigating Hair Transplant in Turkey: Recommendations, Suggestions, and Tips

If you're considering a hair transplant in Turkey, there are several key factors to take into account to ensure you get the best results possible. Here, we'll provide you with some valuable hair transplant recommendations, as well as suggestions and tips to guide you through the process.

Firstly, it's essential to thoroughly research your options before undertaking a hair transplant. This includes getting a hair transplant referral from a trusted source, such as a friend, family member, or even a healthcare professional, who has firsthand knowledge about the procedure.

Next, consider the different methods available for hair transplant and make a hair transplant comparison. This will help you determine which procedure is best suited for your specific hair loss condition, lifestyle, and budget. Some methods may offer faster results, while others may be more affordable or less invasive.

In terms of hair transplant suggestions, always ensure that you choose a reputable clinic or surgeon. It's crucial to verify their qualifications, experience, and success rate with previous patients. This can be done by checking online reviews or asking for before and after photos of past patients.

Additionally, it's recommended to have a thorough consultation with your surgeon before the procedure. This will give you an opportunity to discuss your expectations, potential risks, and the recovery process. It's also a good time to ask any questions you may have about the procedure.

Lastly, aftercare is a critical part of the hair transplant process. Make sure to follow all post-procedure care instructions provided by your surgeon. This will help ensure optimal results and minimize potential complications.

Remember, getting a hair transplant is a major decision that should not be taken lightly. It's important to take your time, do your research, and make an informed decision. With these hair transplant tips to guide you, you'll be well on your way to achieving the hair restoration results you desire.

Assessing Your Hair Transplant Options in Turkey: Considerations, Pros and Cons

When considering a hair transplant in Turkey, one of the first steps involves a comprehensive hair transplant assessment. This usually entails a thorough evaluation of your hair loss pattern, hair quality, and the potential donor site(s). The goal is to devise a customized treatment plan tailored to address your specific needs.

A typical hair transplant evaluation takes into account several factors. The extent and pattern of your hair loss, the quality and quantity of your remaining hair, and your overall health status are all significant considerations. Furthermore, your expectations and goals for the procedure are also weighed in during the assessment.

An essential part of the assessment process is understanding the hair transplant pros and cons. On the one hand, a hair transplant can significantly enhance your appearance and self-confidence. It can restore not just your hair, but also your youthful look and vitality. On the other hand, like any surgical procedure, it carries potential risks and complications. These may include infection, scarring, and the possibility of the transplanted hair not looking as natural or as full as you would like.

When considering hair transplant options, it's paramount to take into account the various hair transplant varieties available. For instance, there are methods that involve transplanting individual follicles, while others involve transplanting small patches of scalp. Each method has its unique set of advantages and potential drawbacks. The best choice largely depends on your individual circumstances, including the extent of your hair loss, your hair type, and your personal preferences.

In conclusion, a hair transplant in Turkey requires careful consideration and thorough evaluation. Keep in mind the pros and cons, take the time to understand the different hair transplant options, and ensure you opt for a variety that best suits your needs. Your decision should not be rushed but taken after comprehensive research and consultation.

An Overview and Introduction to Hair Transplant in Turkey

Hair transplant in Turkey has become increasingly popular in recent years. This medical procedure, as the name suggests, involves transplanting hair from one part of the body to another. It is commonly used to treat baldness and hair thinning. This article provides a hair transplant overview, introducing you to this revolutionary procedure that has changed the lives of many.

Hair transplant is a surgical procedure that involves removing hair follicles from a 'donor site' and implanting them on the balding or thinning area, known as the 'recipient site'. The donor site is typically an area with plenty of hair, often the back or sides of the head. This hair transplant introduction is crucial for understanding the basic principles of the procedure.

When you look at the global hair transplant industry, Turkey stands out as a leading destination. This is due to the combination of highly skilled specialists, advanced medical facilities, and affordable prices. The country's strategic location between Europe and Asia also makes it easily accessible to patients from around the world.

In the context of a hair transplant overview, one should note that there are different types of hair transplant procedures. The choice of the procedure usually depends on the individual's hair type, the extent of hair loss, and their personal preferences. The two most common methods are Follicular Unit Transplantation (FUT) and Follicular Unit Extraction (FUE).

To conclude this hair transplant introduction, it is important to note that, like any other medical procedure, hair transplant comes with its own set of potential risks and complications. However, when performed by a competent and experienced specialist, these risks can be minimized significantly. Furthermore, the results of a successful hair transplant can be life-changing, enhancing not only one's appearance but also their self-esteem and confidence.

In the following sections, we will delve into more specifics about hair transplant in Turkey, including the cost, the recovery process, and patient experiences.

#Hair #hair transplant #fue hair transplant #best hair transplant in Turkey

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angelcent · 2 months

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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 — S. GOJO

⋆ summary. after a company dinner, satoru asks something of you. something you don’t see coming.

⋆ warnings. 18+, established relationship, heel kink?, cum eating, sub!gojo, humiliation, praise, gojo is about to say the ‘m’ word. wc 1.5k

Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the position you’re in, and you should’ve known better. Should’ve known better than to think Satoru could no longer surprise you. He’s the most unpredictable person you’ve ever met, and you’re sure you’re spending the rest of your life with him. You’ve never felt that for any relationship you’ve had, but as you look down at him, you’re certain. This is the handsome man you’ll marry.

“Y-you sure?” you stammered, playing with the hem of your mini cocktail dress.

His words add a heavy weight to your new heels, pretty and shiny black with a red bottom. They accentuated your bare legs, and now you understood just why Satoru was so insistent on you wearing them tonight. Why he was so impatient throughout the company dinner.

“Yeah,” he sighed, squirming in anticipation as he kneels before you. If anyone could see this powerful man asking this of you while on his knees, you’re not sure what they’d think.

Your eyes trailed down his body. His expensive silky shirt is half unbuttoned, exposing his flushed chest and there’s a slight flash of his nipple piercings. The black slacks are stretched on his toned legs, thighs wide and cock tenting in the tight fabric. The bulge is big, making you bite your lip as you think about how it feels fucking inside of you. And he wants you to…

“Do it, step on me.” Satoru urges, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle against your belly. He looks up at you with his chin against your lower belly, pretty blue eyes pleading. “Please, why do you think I bought those pretty shoes for you? I’ve been thinking about this all night, baby.”

Satoru likes spoiling you, that’s been the case since you two started dating. Even before then. Not just with material things, either. He spoils you with his love and affection. The man is practically whipped, hanging off your every word. You have him wrapped around your finger. So shouldn’t you indulge him as well? He deserves to have his desires granted.

With a bite to your lip and a shaky nod, you trace the bulge lightly with the toe box of your shoe. Satoru is so sensitive, so you barely add any pressure out of fear of hurting him. Instead, the opposite happens. You watch as his eyelids flutter shut, how his breath begins to quicken at this featherlight touch. It’s so light that you don’t even feel it.

Satoru groans roughly, sounding all too pleased. “Yeah, fuck. Just like that.”

He’s so wanton that it makes your face heat up in embarrassment. Never did you think that he’d be into something like this…very into it by the looks of it. He lifts his hips up, blindly reaching for more friction against your shoe. Did he—he wants it harder? Does he want it to hurt? Seeing his attempts to buck up against you made your palms clammy. Made you itch for something you never knew you would.

You pulled the tip of your shoe away from his clothed erection, feeling yourself get aroused at the sound of his whine at the loss. “Stop that.” you scold suddenly, reaching to run your fingers through his styled white hair and pulling his head back, making him look up at you. He does so with a light hiss, and his eyes open in surprise at the unexpected rough treatment. “Don’t get greedy, or else I’ll stop. Got it?”

Even though your voice was unsteady, hesitant in the role you’re taking, Satoru was greatly affected by it. His eyes glazed in arousal, cheeks reddening in shame as he sucked on his lower lip. He looked good like that. Now that the shock was wearing off and you were gaining rhythm, you began to notice how wet you were getting. Your cunt felt slick and hot.

Satoru began nodding in obedience, looking like an eager puppy. “I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. Please. I’ll be good…”

Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck.

With a gulp, you released your hold on his hair. “Good,” you smile sweetly, pressing against his cock again. This time you used the sole of your heels, actually feeling something under you as you applied more pressure. You relished in Satoru cursing and moaning at the pressure against his erection. “See what happens when you’re a good boy for me?”

Satoru leaned in to leave a few kisses against your navel in appreciation. He was starting to look pathetic.

It was so hot.

As you began to rub up and down his cock, he pulled away from you to look down at your pretty heels stepping on him. You did your best to mimic the strokes you’d do with your hands, but it seemed even your inexperienced technique was enough for Satoru. A wet patch began forming over his slacks after a while, making him moan in shame. Yet he didn’t tell you to stop, making you realize that he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“Does it hurt?” you mumble, releasing a bit of pressure. You watch as Satoru’s hands twitch and clench at his sides, wondering how much more he can take.

He doesn’t answer you at first, so you pull on his hair and shake his head a little to snap him out of it. “Sorry…yes—shit, it hurts,” he whimpers, licking his lips. His thighs spread a little wider as he slowly loses what little composure he has left. “I fucking love it. More, more, fuck. Harder, please.”

This time, when he begins to buck against your shoe, you don’t stop him. This time, you indulge him and step down fully on his dick. You’re practically soaking through your underwear, and you want nothing more than to rub at your pussy until you gush all over Satoru’s face. But the rush of power stops you, it disciplines you into a patience you didn’t think you possessed.

You’re not sure how or why, but you know that maintaining a composed demeanor as Satoru unravels is what he wants. It adds to the shame he’s feeling, that he’s getting off on something so desperate while you’re unflustered.

So you continue, you step your thousand dollar heels on Satoru’s dick and press hard against it with the entire sole. You’ve been so good at your role the entire time, but you finally crack when you release a gasp and moan at the sight before you. Satoru is leaning back on his hands now, sobbing in pain and pleasure, head tipped back as he falls apart. He bites at his fist for a bit, groaning when you pull back.

Your pupils dilate when you see the big wet spot on Satoru’s expensive trousers, a black pool on the dark fabric. He’s leaking and terribly desperate to come…could probably come just from getting his cock stepped on but…

“Please, please, I’m sorry!” he sobs in confusion, ready to beg even if he doesn’t know why you stopped. He looks too good like this, it spurs you on to keep it going.

“F-finish yourself off on my leg.” you demand shakily, hoping you’re not asking for too much. All you hope for is that he goes along with it, because it’s all you can think of right now. You want nothing more than to see it. He’s been such a pathetic mess, so why not end it off like that?

Without a fight, Satoru wraps himself around your leg, and begins to hump against your shin. The weight and your arousal makes your legs feel like jelly, but you remain upright as Satoru fucks against your leg. You hear him unbuckling his belt and you gasp when you feel his hot cock rubbing against your skin.

“I’m gonna come, m—” he cuts himself off with a broken groan, still sobbing in pleasure. “Please, can I come? I’m being good, right?”

Your mind is spinning, and you’re not sure what to think. You haven’t been touched or stimulated at all, but you don’t remember being so turned on like this. Nothing else matters except the man below you, the love of your life. Your…

“You have,” you agree, scratching lightly at his scalp the way he likes. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, angel. So cute and pathetic, hm?”

“Just for you! ‘M good jus for you,” he slurs, losing rhythm as he continues humping your leg. “Fuck everyone else, only you.”

“Mhm, just me. So come for me, Satoru.”

The heady rush of power reaches an unbeatable high as Satoru sloppily continues fucking your leg until he lets out a loud groan, spilling over your shin. You breathe out shakily as you feel his hot come running down to your ankle, and Satoru is muttering praises at you.

As he comes down from his high, he looks up at you with adoration in his baby blue eyes. He’s so handsome and charming, body broad and strong. Yet here he is, getting off on his dick being stepped on by your heels and fucking your leg like a pervert. Not only that, but as you look down at your leg, you don’t recall him ever coming so much. Your eyes gaze at the clearish sticky come for a few seconds before words spill out of your mouth.

“Clean up your mess,” you order, sticking your messy leg out slightly.

And he does. Fuck, he does. Satoru leans down to lay his tongue flat against your leg, lapping up his own come off of your soft skin.

#starring: gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo smut #jjk smut

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vampzity · 7 months

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𝘼 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚

Pairing: husband! San x f! reader

Genre: fluff, nudity w/o smut, husband au, valentine’s day series, mini idol au, one shot, pet names (angel, princess, baby girl), LOTS of flirting

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, but not just any Valentine’s Day.. it’s your first as a married couple with your beloved husband, San. You had the entire day planned out and what you wanted to in celebration of this special day, or so you thought. San was not just one but two steps ahead of you and your game plan. He knew exactly of your plans for him, and decided to turn it around on you.

Now Playing: POV - Ariana Grande

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! There’s a lot going on in my personal life- I couldn’t tell you guys how excited I’ve been to write this one shot… it was literally haunting me!

Yeosang’s Pt. Masterlist Mingi’s Pt.

You lay on your bed, practically suffocated by the covers that wrapped around your body. You felt a pair of soft paws pass through your legs, soon pushing at your head to wake you. You yawned widely, eyes closed as you lifted the covers to let the furry animal under them with you. You heard a small purr as the animal nuzzled against your chest, resting its head under your chin.

“Good morning, my sweet Byeol.”

You pet her softly, eyes still closed as you didn’t want to accept the fate of it being morning so soon. Your eyes fluttered a bit as you continued to yawn a bit more, poking your head out from above the covers. To your surprise, your dearly beloved wasn’t there.

You poked your head out a little more, looking around the room. Nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the nightstand, you realize his glasses are gone as well. You raised an eyebrow suspiciously, shrugging slowly as you sat up in bed to stretch your limbs. Byeol tip-toed from under the covers and sat on your husband’s side of the bed. You stretched your arms and back, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight shining in the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze. You looked over to the door, seeing your husband standing there with a towel, a basket of miscellaneous items, and roses. He beamed a soft smile at you, his glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

He walked over to you, placing the items on the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face, leaning in to plant a soft but warm kiss on your forehead. Your face flushed a light red, ears turning hot with it. San hovered over you, pulling your chin up to meet his eyes as you sat in bed below him.

“Good morning sleepy head. Ready for your princess treatment today?”

You stood there, completely at a loss for words as your face now turned a dark red. Normally, you’d wake up early every morning to feed Byeol and make San breakfast for the day. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Acts of service were simply how you showed your affection to him, and that’s exactly what you wanted to do today but heightened. Unfortunately for you, San beat you to it.

He walked away from you, grabbing the box of miscellaneous items to hand over to you. In the box were different kinds of soaps you adored, bath bombs, and scrubs that made your skin glow. An entire bag of Epsom salt sat in the corner of the box and made you grin slightly, as San knew how much it helped your feet when they were sore.

You smiled at the box, feeling love fill your heart with joy as you accepted the gift. Looking back up at San, he smiled at you holding his hand out for you.

“Well, c’mon. I already have a bath ready for you with warm water. Today, I spoil you and you cannot interfere. Understood?”

You looked at him, completely speechless at his words. An entire bath was ready for you? Whatever happened to your plans for him today? It was such a sudden change of events for you, that you weren’t sure of how to respond to his offering.

“But, San. You ca- Shhh.”

He placed his finger against your lips, cutting you off to shush you. He smirked, leaning in to bring his face only a few inches away from yours.

“What did I say, princess? I’m spoiling you today.” He backed away from you, grabbing your hand to pull you out of bed. “I’ll do whatever you want today, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your special treatment.”

He walked you towards the bathroom, closing the door behind you two. The tub was covered in rose petals along with other flowers. Different honeycomb scrubs rested afloat as a soothing aroma of vanilla and lavender filled your nose. Curtains rested on the windows, allowing for a darker room only lit by small candles laid about.

He let go of your hand and stuck it into the bath water to make sure its temperature was still warm for you. Humming pleasantly, he turned back to you.

“Still nice and warm for you.”

Your cheeks flushed red as he once again, moved hair out of your face to admire you. He moved out of your way and walked towards the door, allowing you the privacy to relax and rewind without him there. However, a quick thought hit your mind. A devilish one at that, and it was indeed something that he wouldn’t expect from you.

“Sannie?” He turned his head to you, raising an eyebrow as it was rare that you ever used his nickname with him.

“You said you’d do anything I want right?” His head nodded softly, turning his entire back to face you as he began to cock his face to the side. He meant what he said, but he wasn’t as positive about you taking such a vague request seriously. You looked down at your nightgown, smirking slightly as you met eyes with San once again.

“Undress me.”

San’s eyes widened as you gave him a smug look. His face immediately shot red with nervousness, feeling the room turn hot. A few seconds passed by until you grew impatient, so you grabbed San by the arm and pulled him to you, placing his hand on the strap of your gown.

“Do it,” you mumbled, feeling your heart beat out of your chest.

San gave you a soft glare, kissing your shoulder softly. He pulled your straps off your shoulder, as your arms slipped out of them. The nightgown fell to your ankles, revealing you only in red underwear. San’s eyes widened at the sight of you. Sure, he has seen your body plenty of times, but it still shocked him at how bold you were compared to your normal shy self. He continued to give you small pecks along your neck and shoulders, soon planting a kiss against your hand.

He pulled your body to him, his hand resting underneath your chin as a soft kiss was shared between you two.

"Is there.. anything else that you want me for, princess?"

You blushed hesitantly, shaking your head no to the young man. He smiled, letting go of you and making his way back towards the door. He picked up Byeol, who stood at the door frame and turned to face you once again.

"Take your time. I'll be making breakfast for you."`

San closed the door, allowing you to be alone for some time to gather yourself. You sighed happily and removed your underwear, stepping into the warm bath water. You allowed the water to engulf you as you soaked. It was relaxing, soothing even. You felt refreshed and felt like yourself again, especially after the week you’ve had.

What seemed like a few minutes soon turned into 30 as you heard a few knocks on the door. You perked up, seeing Byeol make her way through the door only to be followed by San’s head.

“How’s my baby girl doing? Feeling relaxed enough?”

He walked over to the counter, placing a warm towel and fuzzy robe down. You tilted your head at him like a dog, confused as to what his mind was thinking. He came and kneeled by the tub, petting your head softly as he kissed your forehead. You smiled, your eyes meeting. You nodded to his question.

“I am, Sannie. Thank you.”

He stood up, walked back to the door, and opened it. As he did so, the fresh smell of breakfast hit your nostrils. Bacon, pancakes, eggs. Smells that made your stomach growl with hunger and tastebuds eager.

“I left some clothes for you on the bed. Try them on for me, will you? Then come eat breakfast with me.”

His eyes beamed through the lens in his glasses as you nodded once again, permitting him to leave the bathroom. You looked at Byeol, who snuggled herself on the mat. She was always so precious to San, but it gave you warmth in your heart to know that you were just as precious to him.

Getting out of the tub, you dried off with the warm towel San had brought for you and wrapped the fluffy robe around you as your feet dipped into your slippers. Opening the door, Byeol made her way out with you following behind. As San said, there were a pair of clothes laid out for you on the bed, nicely placed so they wouldn’t wrinkle. It was a pink turtle neck paired with a pleated denim skirt. You smiled at his choice of fashion, as San always went out of his way to buy you the cutest clothes.

You removed your robe, grabbing some undergarments to wear before putting the outfit on. Without looking in the mirror yet, you slipped on knitted white socks to match and smiled, pleased with the outfit. Before you could get up to admire it, a small knock interrupted you.

San cracked open the door, peeking his head through to see what you were up to. Upon seeing you, he paused, feeling his heart skip a beat. He invited himself into the room, his eyes refusing to turn away from you as your face turned red.

“You look beautiful, baby girl.”

Turning your head away from his gaze, San made his way torward you. As you sat on the bed, his arm reached out to the side of you as he hovered over your figure. He stood above you as he leaned in closer to kiss the side of your neck fondly. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he placed his other hand on your upper thigh, slowly bringing it up. He continued to peck at your neck softly.

“San—”

He pulled away, his eyes meeting your flushed face. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him this morning, as he knew you weren’t always one for displays of affection. However, today he just felt so much love towards you. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, love you, touch you. There was no end to the overflowing amount of adore he felt towards you today that he could not resist.

He pulled you over to the mirror to see the outfit on you as you stood in complete awe. You smiled, hitting a small pose as San stood behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple softly.

“I told you. An absolute angel.”

He pulled your hand, allowing you to follow him into the dining room. Different plates of food were placed on the table, from bacon to assorted fruit, to fluffy pancakes, and even some white toast. Your eyes widened in awe seeing the glorious amount of food in front of you. He pulled out a seat for you, gesturing for you to sit down. You took a seat and San pushed the seat in, placing all your favorite foods in front of you so that you could indulge yourself. Smiling, you grabbed a piece of bacon, biting into it happily.

“Mmm, so good.”

You sat at the kitchen table, curious as to why San had left you alone for a moment. You were full from all the breakfast he had made and yet somehow, he managed to eat your leftovers with his food. It was only 11 am and San had already spoiled you so much on this special day.

You heard footsteps approach you as San appeared in your sight of vision again. He was holding a blindfold in his hand, giving you a slight nervous feeling in your stomach. He smirked softly, coming behind you and leaning next to your ear.

“I have a surprise for you, princess.”

Your face turned red as you felt his warm breath hit your neck. He kissed the top of your ear, placing the blindfold around your eyes and tying it lightly. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, guiding your walking with his own. You held out your other hand for balance, curious as to what surprise was awaiting you.

You both came to a stop. San let go of your hand and came behind you, allowing you to feel his presence brush by you so you weren’t startled. He untied the blindfold, letting it fall on its own into his hands.

Before you, were dozens of rose petals laid against the ground. Heart-shaped balloons covered the ceiling in various areas from red to pink. Candles lit the room up, as San put up darker curtains to set the mood. As you began to walk into the room, you realized more rose petals covering the bed and a small lingerie set sitting nicely on it. You blushed as your breath hitched, San coming up next to you.

“I know you don’t like to reveal yourself, and that’s okay. So, don’t feel pressured to try it on, k?” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You eyed the sight, nodding quickly. It was a light pink baby doll set. The spaghetti straps had small butterflies sewn to them. The sides of the lingerie were a sheer pink, and the body’s middle was simply laced with butterflies and flower patterns. A baby pink hem wrapped around the middle of the gown, small ruffles hanging off the cups of it.

You walked over to it, picking it up. You looked up at San as he gestured to the bathroom for you. He gave you a warm smile and you blushed once again, feeling the heat inside of you.

You walked over to the bathroom with the set, closing the door behind you as you went to change your clothes. San waited for you patiently by the window, petting Byeol as he gazed out into the streets. He felt his heart thump louder and louder as he waited for you to come out. He has never felt this nervous for you before, it was a new feeling. Even though he’s seen you in all your beauty thousands of times before, this time was different for him. It was the first Valentine’s as a wedded couple and he wanted to make sure everything went in your favor.

“Well, how does it look..?”

San turned his head to see you standing by the bed shyly. Your hands clasped together as you looked down at your feet, feeling slightly insecure. He admired how nicely the lingerie hugged your figure, how perfectly it enhanced his favorite features about you.

San walked over to you until you caught his feet meeting your own. His hand slowly made its way under your chin. He lifted your head to meet his eyes and smiled at you subtly. You felt your cheeks warm up at his actions, not sure of what to do. He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.

“You look stunning, princess. Exactly what I envisioned.”

He kissed your forehead softly, picked you up bridally style, and placed you on the bed. You sat there confused, following his body as he walked across the room to take off his hoodie. He had a simple white tank top under, giving you a full show of his broad muscles and shoulders.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as he made his way towards you, smirking with every step he took. He hovered over your body on the bed as he stood and his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Remember what I said earlier?”

Your breath hitched as he spoke, feeling caught off guard by his sudden question. You stood silent, feeling your body continue to melt under his control.

“I’ll do anything you want today.”

He pulled his hand away from you and climbed onto the bed, his body now hovering over you. Your knee brushed against his member, making you close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Tell me, princess,” he laid a soft kiss against your neck, soon making his way down to what was exposed of your chest.

“What do you want from me?”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did hehe🤭 Was literally giggling and kicking my feet writing this. Again, sorry for such the long wait!

Taglist: @skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @honeyhwaaa @mingisbbokari @scarfac3

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