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hongjoongtime117 · 3 days

Text

Brats and Backtalk

Pairings: Multiple pairings

Genre: SMUT (MDNI 18+)

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: multiple partners, unprotected sex (wrap it up pleaseeeee!), pet names (Kitten, angel, sweetheart, good boy/girl, pretty boy/girl, handsome, baby), multiple orgasms, rough sex, pierced and tattooed Hongjoong, choking, Hongjoong has a Captain kink, everyone’s a brat, oral (F/M receiving), I’m sure there’s a lot more, and if you feel something needs to be tagged, please let me know!

Summary: The four of you finally get together, without the phones

Taglist: @kihyuns-military-wife @ghostlovesworld @arki-sha

About a month had passed since the very spicy game night, and with everyone’s jammed packed schedules, it had been difficult to get together again to follow up on the promise of the four of you together.

Wooyoung and San have plans for the night to go out with their friends Yunho and Yeosang. So when Hongjoong texted you that he was heading out of the studio at a somewhat decent hour, you invited him over, hoping to spend some very needed time together.

‘As if I’d ever turn that down. I’m on my way’ was the reply you received almost immediately.

A half an hour later, you hear a rhythmic knock at the front door. You jump up from your bed to rush to the front door, but San has already beat you to it.

“Hey Joong, nice to see ya!” San steps aside to let him in. You and Wooyoung join him a moment later as Hongjoong toes off his sneakers.

Wooyoung gives an appreciative whistle at Hongjoong. “Ok, Joong, showing some leg!”

“Ah, yeah, it was a lazy day at the studio today. I didn't actually have to work so I didn’t bother dressing the part,” he says, chuckling at Wooyoung’s rowdiness.

Once you’re able to get a full view of Hongjoong with San and Wooyoung out of the way, you thoroughly check him out. The black tank top, showing off his beautiful artwork, his muscular arms, and his damn pecs, and you can see his nipple piercings through the thin fabric. The cut off denim shorts, showing off his thick legs that you are desperate to sink your teeth into. Or be between. Whichever comes first.

Hongjoong looks you up and down and giggles, as you two are unexpectedly matching. Black tank top, showing just the right amount of cleavage, and cut off shorts, hugging your ass just right. Hongjoong pulls you in for a tight hug and grabs your ass and kisses your neck.

“God, I missed you,” his breath tickling your skin.

“I missed you more.”

“Hmmm, is that so? You’ll have to prove it to me,” he says in a playful tone.

“Alright you two lovebirds, get a room!” Wooyoung taunts as he shuts the door.

Hongjoong releases you from his embrace to grab your hand and beings pulling you towards your room. “You heard the man. Come on, baby.”

Once in your room, you both settle on your bed and catch up on life from the last month. You go more in depth on the conversation of where your relationship stands. You’ve found out that Hongjoong’s sex life was much more interesting than you had originally thought.

The friend circle between Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and San had all been hooking up with each other for a while. While there were ‘couples’, as long as it was between any of the eight of them, it was allowed. You and Hongjoong talked about the possibility of adding you into the group of eight. With the boy’s busy schedules and your long hours, you didn’t immediately shoot down the idea.

The last month without Hongjoong had been torture for your insatiable sex drive. So the thought of being able to be with someone deemed safe by Hongjoong in his absence gave you a thrill. Being able to ‘quench your thirst’ with a variety of options was exciting to you. Of course, Hongjoong would be allowed the same, and if schedules allowed, there was definitely room to explore more than one option at a time.

“Have you given any more thought to our talks? I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and I only want you to agree to this if you’re comfortable. If not, we can keep things exclusive. Just you and I. I’ve already talked with the boys before I even brought it up to you, and they are definitely into the idea.”

“You think your jealousy can handle sharing me with seven other men, Joong?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“I mean, I don’t love the idea, exactly. But if I’m fucking around with all of them, I can’t exactly tell you that it’s not ok for you to do so also. Life is just hectic sometimes, and I’m not always going to be able to take care of your needs, the same way you can’t always take care of mine. I’d rather know you're being taken care of by one, or more, of my boys that I trust, rather than randomly hooking up. Plus, everything goes through me first, and I’ll give you that same respect.”

“I actually really enjoy the thought, and think it would be fun and interesting. Of course I would prefer you, or you and a combination of the others, but I’m fully on board with this idea.”

Hongjoong’s phone lights up with a text.

“Aish, they’re shit out of luck tonight. I’ve got more important things to tend to.”

“And who might ‘they’ be?”

“It’s Seonghwa, Mingi, and Jongho. I’ve told you about them. They wanted me to go out for drinks tonight. You’ll meet them sooner or later. They’re a blast!”

A fake pout crossing your lips as you wrap your arms around his middle from behind, you tease, “I mean, you can ditch me to go pick up people at the bar.”

“Y/N, don’t be fucking ridiculous.” He leans back into you, effectively laying you down underneath him as he removes your hands and flips himself over to settle over top of you, placing kisses onto your neck. “The only ones I want are you and the boys. I’m plenty satisfied with that.”

“So who is your favorite out of the boys?” curiosity heavy in your voice.

He stops his kisses and sighs into your skin. He pulls himself back to make eye contact with you. “You’re really asking me to choose? I can’t do that. They each fill a role for me. Or me for them. San and Yeosang are whatever I need them to be at that moment. Seonghwa comes to me when he needs a break from Dom life and needs to recenter. Clearly Woo frequently needs to be put in his place, so I am a Dom to him, in addition to San. And as for Yunho and Mingi, they’re who I go to when I need a break and need to let someone else take control for a while. Jongho is very reserved and I’m not sure he’s been with anyone in the group if I’m being honest. I think there’s someone, but no one pries.”

“That’s a lot more involved than I thought. I just thought ya’ll fucked, and that was that,” you say, sounding more surprised than you intended.

Just as you finish your sentence, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Not having locked it, since even if things got heated between you and Hongjoong, (it was definitely going to), it’s not like the other two hadn’t watch Hongjoong fuck you within an inch of your life, you holler for whoever it was to enter.

San and Wooyoung head over to join the two of you on the edge of the bed. “Hey, so, uhhh. Our plans with Yunho and Yeosang fell through. They had something come up.” You can tell San is a little disappointed.

“You look pretty bummed, Sannie. But uh, that leaves the four of us. Free. Together. In the same house. We can make good on our promise,” Hongjoong suggests.

“I’m not going to lie and say that that doesn’t sound like a better plan than what we had planned with Yunho and Yeo,” Wooyoung deadpans.

“We had actually just finished talking about you two and the rest of the boys. I tried asking Joong who his favorite was, but instead I got a breakdown of you all,” your tone amused. “Joong, what do you need Sannie to be for you tonight?” you giggle, wanting to know where this night is heading.

“Sannie is gonna be a good little bottom for me tonight. Aren’t you, handsome?” He reaches over to place two fingers under San’s chin as they exchange glances.

“Sorry, Captain. Not really in the mood for bottoming tonight. You’d have to fight me for it,” he spits.

Hongjoong drops his hand and raises an eyebrow at the challenge. “That can be arranged, San.”

You and Wooyoung share an ‘oh shit’ look with each other as Hongjoong stands up and makes his way past the both of you to San.

“You two, over there,” he points to the small sofa a few feet away, against your bedroom wall, but facing the bed. “I need all the room I can get to deal with San and the mouth he has on him tonight.”

You both are immediately on your feet and heading to your designated spot, entangling yourselves together to watch the showdown between the other two.

Hongjoong aggressively pushes San backwards onto the bed, and straddles him while simultaneously using one hand to pin his hands above his head. He uses the other to grip San’s face rather hard. With a well intended grind of his hips that makes San’s dick twitch, he questions him. “So, how do we fix this smart mouth of yours, hmm?”

“Better yet, how do we fix yours, Joongie?” San uses his body strength to flip Hongjoong over underneath him, and Hongjoong wraps his legs around San to steady himself from the unexpected flip. His hands mimic the same position he was in under Hongjoong. Hongjoong audibly gasps at the change of roles.

“What do you have to say now, Captain?” his tone condescending. “You’re so pretty underneath me like this.”

Hongjoong uses every ounce of strength and the help of his legs wrapped around San to overpower him and yet again land himself on top. “You wish, handsome.”

“Oh come on, Joongie. You and I both know you want me in that tight little ass.” San places his hands on Hongjoong’s waist and grinds him against his hardening cock.

Hongjoong throws his head back with a groan at the friction and San runs his hands under Hongjoong’s tank top and plays with his sensitive, pierced nipples. “Fuck you, Choi San,” Hongjoong hisses.

“Oh, no, no. It’s going to be me who’s fucking you, Kim Hongjoong. You’re going to sit here on my cock and tell me you don’t want it, pretty?” San coos with a roll of his hips against the grind he’s set Hongjoong into.

“I can’t fucking stand you, do you know that?” Hongjoong said through clenched teeth.

“Good thing you’re sitting then, huh?” a smirk plastering San’s face.

“Ooo, Hongjoong is almost as bratty as I am,” Wooyoung whispers to you.

“No one can out brat you, Woo. Except maybe me,” you whisper back. “Have you never seen San and Joong go at it?”

“No, usually when they’re like this, I’m not around so this is as new to me as it is to you. But I like it! I do know though, that from Sannie telling me about the times they’ve fucked, that little Joongie definitely wants to bottom tonight,” he giggles.

“How do you know that?” you yell whisper at Wooyoung, trying not to draw attention to yourselves.

“He was being nice to Sannie. He wouldn’t have complimented him if he wanted to top him tonight.”

“Nice when?” your eyes widening in amusement.

“Didn’t you hear him call San ‘handsome’?”

“I mean, I did but, San is handsome.”

“Not when Joong wants to rail him,” Wooyoung shrugs like this should just be common sense.

During your conversation with Wooyoung, San has Hongjoong even more riled up, his dick straining against the rough fabric of his denim shorts. San sits himself up and makes quick work of removing and tossing Hongjoong’s tank top, and wraps his burning lips around one of Hongjoong’s perky buds, sucking loudly. Small pants, whimpers, and whines begin spilling from Hongjoong’s plump, pink, jeweled lips.

San stops for a brief moment to look up at Hongjoong, lightly glistening with sweat. “Come on, Joongie, all you have to do is beg for it, and I’ll give it to you. Be a good boy.” As soon as he finishes his sentence, one of Hongjoong’s nipples is in between his teeth, and the other underneath the pad of his thumb.

“I’ll never beg for it,” his breathing uneven from San’s touch.

“Never, Joongie? I remember very clearly the last time you begged for me to fuck you.” He stands up with Hongjoong in his arms and leaves from the edge of the bed and makes his way to the foot of the bed to deposit Hongjoong into the middle of it. He hovers over him for just a moment before he places hot, sloppy kisses on his neck. “Let me remind you, hmm?”

San slides his hand into the waistband of Hongjoong’s shorts and boxers and grabs a hold of his hard, leaking, jewelry-clad dick and gives it a few strokes. Hongjoong’s back arches off the bed, chasing the pleasure of San’s hand. “Awww, you’re already dripping for me, pretty.” San rubs his thumb over his pierced tip and Hongjoong lets out a nose somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

“Are you going to willingly beg for it, or am I going to have to make you? Because one way or another, you’ll be pleading for me to fuck you full.”

“I told you I’m not begging for shit,” Hongjoong’s voice cracking from trying to keep his composure.

“I love that you’re putting on a little show for Y/N and Youngie. It’s just going to be that much more satisfying when I finally break you.”

You and Wooyoung have your eyes glued to the pair, Wooyoung palming the tent forming in his sweats, and you rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve your throbbing pussy.

San’s impatience gets the better of him as he rips off Hongjoong’s boxers and shorts in one quick, aggressive movement and throws them onto the floor behind him. Hongjoong lays bare and at the mercy of the fully clothed man. San’s lips are back on Hongjoong’s body and he places hungry, needy kisses across every inch of honey, tattooed skin he can manage to get his mouth on. His kisses getting lower, he stops at the ‘Captain’ tattoo and traces his tongue painstakingly slowly over each letter. Hongjoong’s dick spasms at the feeling of the wet, warm muscle drawing on his skin, and yet another drop of the salty nectar leaks from his tip.

San hums in satisfaction, knowing he’s almost got Hongjoong right where he wants him. “Let me take care of that for you, Joongie.”

He grabs a hold of Hongjoong’s thick, muscular thighs and licks a slobbery trail up the underside of Hongjoong’s dick and engulfs the tip into his eager mouth. Before Hongjoong can get any true satisfaction from it, San pops Hongjoong’s dick out of his mouth. “Fuck, I forgot just how good you taste. You gonna give me some more, baby?”

Hongjoong’s breaths are short and shallow as he whines in frustration. In a final attempt to regain some dominance, he gives a rough tug to San’s locks. “God, you’re such a fucking tease, San.”

“Are you ready to beg yet, or should I keep going?” one side of his mouth curling into a mischievous smirk.

“Do your worst, handsome,” he says, returning the smirk, hand still threaded in San’s hair.

“You won’t be this cocky for long, Joongie, I promise you that.”

San licks and sucks on Hongjoong’s inner thighs, making his way upwards, intentionally ignoring his angry, pulsing cock. He stops for a moment, and you can see the look of contemplation on his face. In the blink of eye, he flips Hongjoong over, kneels behind him, and pulls his hips up to bring his ass flush to his own hips and stiff, still fully clothed dick.

“Y/N, do you happen to have some lube somewhere?”

“It’s in the top drawer of the nightstand,” you manage to squeak out.

San leans over Hongjoong to reach into the draw in search of the bottle. He can feel Hongjoong trying to struggle against him as he finally locates it. He leans back, tossing the bottle within reach on the bed, and puts a firm hand on the back of Hongjoong’s neck and pushes his head into the mattress. His other hand lands a sharp smack on his ass, the sound echoing through the room. Hongjoong makes a strangled noise, somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“You’re gonna stay still and be a good boy and take what I give you, aren’t you, pretty?” he whispers to Hongjoong as he pets his spine with the same rough hand that delivered the harsh blow to his ass.

His resolve completely breaking under San’s hands and words, cheek still squished into the mattress, he gives a small nod.

“That’s it baby. Let Sannie make you feel good.”

San generously costs his fingers with the lubricant and drips some down the crack of Hongjoong’s ass, watching his hole flutter around nothing.

“S-San,” Hongjoong huffs.

“Shhh, it’s ok, I’ve got you.”

San teases the rim of Hongjoong’s hole before leisurely sliding a finger in. Hongjoong hisses at the intrusion and within a few tender stroke in and out, Hongjoong attempts to fuck himself back onto San’s finger. San expertly nails Hongjoong’s prostate, eliciting a choked moan from the man under him.

“Someone’s very needy, aren’t they?”

“I-it’s not enough, I need more.”

San pulls his finger out completely and the beginning of tears start to form at Hongjoong’s lash line. He now places two fingers right at his entrance, just enough pressure to let Hongjoong know they’re there.

“What’s the magic word, Joongie?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. He will not beg for this man.

San drops his hand from its place at Hongjoong’s hole and pushes himself off of the bed, and Hongjoong panics.

Still in the same position as San left him, ass in the air, and face to the mattress, he does indeed begin to beg for San. “N-no, Sannie. Please! I’ll be good. P-please. Sannie, I need you.” The bed dips as San returns to it, having removed his clothes during Hongjoong’s pleas. San is big. You hadn’t noticed prior because he was fully sheathed inside Wooyoung’s ass the last time you saw him naked. He’s long, but also thick, and you want to lick every protruding vein on his cock.

San rubs his engorged, flushed dick between Hongjoong’s ass cheeks, and he flinches a little at the unexpected skin to skin contact. “I knew you’d beg for me. What do you need, baby? Tell Sannie.”

He reaches under Hongjoong, giving his cock a few pumps, and rolling a nipple between his fingers. A staccato moan leaves Hongjoong’s throat and San kisses up his back. “Tell me, Joongie, or I will leave you here, dripping and hard in the middle of Y/N’s bed. Youngie and Y/N won’t be allowed to help you. And I won’t let you touch yourself either.”

“Please, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, please.” Hongjoong is breathless as a single tear falls.

“That’s a good boy, Captain,” San says as he pushes into him in one fluid thrust of his hips, bottoming out inside of him.

San picks up a relentless pace, and Hongjoong desperately meets it. His whimpers and whines vibrate through the air, along with another familiar set and Wooyoung can no longer keep his mouth shut. You and Wooyoung have stripped down to nothing but your bra and panties and his boxers as you sit in his lap, back to his chest, your legs spread open as he plays with your clit through your soaked panties.

“Aww, look at little whiny bottom Joongie, flushed and crying on Sannie’s cock.”

Hongjoong and San look at the both of you, and even though Hongjoong looks insanely fucked out, you can tell he’s pissed, and so is San.

San stops his strokes into Hongjoong, and gives a cold stare to Wooyoung. Hongjoong makes a noise of disappointment at the halt of San’s movements.

“Youngie. Come here. Now.” His tone is very serious and anyone in their sane mind who wasn’t an absolute brat would be scared. He starts moving again inside Hongjoong, a patient pace, unlike the voice that just came from him.

But Wooyoung being the brat he is, decides to test San’s authority. “Make me, Sannie. And I would say that would be rather difficult for you to do, seeing as how you’re currently balls deep inside precious Joongie.”

With a sigh and gritted teeth, San says, “Wooyoung, don’t test my fucking patience. I said-” He’s interrupted by Hongjoong who, with a sickly sweet voice, calls Wooyoung to them.

“Wooyo, San asked you to come here.”

Wooyoung taps your leg, signaling for you to stand. He immediately heads over to Hongjoong and San on the bed.

“Oh, so you listen to Hongjoong when he calls for you? Seems you’ve suddenly forgotten who owns you, pretty. Boxers off. On the bed, in front of your lovely Joongie. And as punishment for your ‘cute’ little stunt, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

There’s an air of unspoken words between Hongjoong and San, and Hongjoong knows exactly what he’s asking of him. He’s meant to bring Wooyoung to a similar state of his own. Only then is San going to let him cum.

Wooyoung settles in front of Hongjoong, feet placed on either side of his head.

“Oh, don’t think I forgot about you, Y/N. Come here.” Hongjoong’s dominance has returned, if only for a moment, to put you back in your place. You shake your head ‘no’ at him. An eyebrow flies upwards at your disobedience.

“Kitten,” San says, using Hongjoong’s pet name for you, “you were told to do something, I suggest you listen. Here. Now.”

You swiftly make your way to the bed and sit on your heels next to the three men, squeezing your legs together tightly to try and calm your aching bundle of nerves.

“Since you seem so eager to get your hands on Y/N, Youngie, why don’t you go ahead and take care of the rest of her clothes for us?” Hongjoong looks up at Wooyoung from his place in between his legs. “And Y/N, since you need a lesson on how to control yourself, you’re allowed nothing but to watch.”

“That’s not fair,” you pout at Hongjoong. “It was Woo’s idea!”

“And he’s also in trouble too, lest you forget. Hongjoong will make sure his punishment is carried out. So I suggest you take yours like a good girl, and start by letting Woo get rid of your sopping panties and that bothersome bra. We want to see you make a mess of yourself while I fuck your Joongie full of my cum and he plays with my naughty little Youngie.”

“Get to it, Woo,” San nods his head towards you, and picks back up his pace, fucking into Hongjoong like a dog in heat.

Wooyoung crawls over to you and unhooks your bra tossing it into the pile of forgotten clothes on the floor, and then tips you backwards onto the bed and makes quick work of your panties, adding the final piece of clothing from the four of you.

Hongjoong beckons Wooyoung to sit back in front of him, and he does so without any hesitation. You sit back up onto your knees, this time spreading your legs apart so that your bare pussy touches the soft, silky sheets.

“Go ahead, Joongie. Get your fill of Wooyo as a reward for taking my cock so well.”

Hongjoong doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls Wooyoung by the thighs until he’s face to face with his dick. He kitten licks the precum off Wooyoung’s length that has dripped down it with his pierced tongue, the feeling making Wooyoung shiver with need.

“Fuck, Captain.”

Before Wooyoung can catch his breath, Hongjoong wraps his mouth around him and wastes no time taking him all the way in, his nose nestled in his well trimmed pubic hair. You hear Hongjoong gulp as he swallows around Wooyoung’s cock. Wooyoung screams as he finds purchase in Hongjoong’s hair. San gives a particularly hard thrust which has Hongjoong moaning around him as his eyes roll back, the vibrations causing tears to well up in Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Shit, if you don’t get your perfect mouth off my dick, I’m definitely gonna cum down your throat.”

San lands a thrust that pushes Hongjoong just a little farther down onto Wooyoung’s cock and he chokes on it before opening his mouth to release Wooyoung and letting his saliva coat him and drip down to his hole.

Hongjoong litters each of Wooyoung’s tensing thighs in deep bite marks. “As much as I’d love to swallow your babies, Sannie has given his orders, pretty.”

Hongjoong plunges two neatly manicured fingers into Wooyoung, precum and saliva that dripped from Wooyoung’s dick being the only lubricant. Wooyoung sharply inhales and arches his back at the sudden stretch and slight burn. Hongjoong milks his sweet spot, bringing forth soft, incoherent words from Wooyoung’s lips.

“Hnng, fuck, Joongie. I-I can’t.” Wooyoung’s body tightens as he tosses his head side to side, heavy pants making his chest rise and fall quickly. The look of Wooyoung fucked out from his fingers alone causes him to clamp around San’s dick and San grabs Hongjoong’s hips and pulls him full force back into his cock. Hongjoong crumples with a silent scream, his head resting into Wooyoung’s taut stomach, his fingers now slowly working him.

“Taking me so well, our precious Joongie. You’ve been so good for me. I’ll let you cum soon, baby. Look at the mess our pretty Y/N has made, watching you take my cock.”

All three of them look over to you, your body having a mind of its own as you rub your hot, slick coated pussy against the cool sheets. There’s a growing wet spot underneath you as your arousal only continues to increase.

Your disarray makes all three of them groan, and double down on their efforts in ruining each other. As things get louder and more intense, Hongjoong’s phone rings. None of them bother stopping, instead ordering you to answer it and put it on speaker. The name simply reads “Baby Chick 🐥”.

“H-hello?” you answer, out of breath and barely above a whisper.

“Hongjoong-ah, you sound a little more feminine than usual,” the caller jokes.

“He’s a little BUSY at the moment, Mingi-ah,” punctuating ‘busy’ with a long, deep thrust into Hongjoong. Hongjoong clamps his teeth around Wooyoung’s thigh once again to try and quiet the grunt that threatens to escape.

“God damn, Joongie, are you trying to eat me alive!?” Wooyoung squeals.

“Oh, is he? Sounds a bit like you all are. So it must be Miss Y/N that answered?” Mingi questions.

You’re quiet, your horny brain trying to process everything that’s going on in the moment.

“Y/N, M-Mingi-ah… a-asked you… something,” Hongjoong’s sentence broken up by his high pitched moans and tear laden voice from San’s quickening pace. You’re pretty sure they’re all seconds from cumming.

“Um, yes. It’s Y/N…”

Mingi hums on the other line. “Why so quiet, doll? Aren’t you enjoying yourself? You got three gorgeous men with you.”

“She’d probably be having fun if she was allowed to join, Princess, but her and Woo decided to have some fun without permission, so she can only watch. You should see how fucking hot she looks, all desperate and needy, in a puddle of her own juices,” San paints the picture for Mingi.

“Shit, send me a picture,” Mingi requests.

San quickly takes the phone from you, snaps a quick photo and sends it to Mingi. The line is silent for a few moments.

“Fuck… and y’all aren’t all over that right now?” whines Mingi.

“She’s being taught a lesson, Mingi. And so is Woo,” Hongjoong growls as he take Wooyoung’s dick into his other hand, pumping it achingly slow, slowing down his fingers to match.

“Joongie, f-fuck, please. I need to cum. God dammit!”

“Doll, give me details on what you’re seeing, hmmm?”

You whimper out a sigh. “I could just make it a video call and you can see for yourself?”

“No, no. I want you to tell me.”

Your voice timid and stammering, you explain in full detail what’s taking place. San fucking into Hongjoong, Hongjoong fingering and stroking Wooyoung to the point he’s completely sobbing. Hongjoong kissing Wooyoung to swallow his cries. San reaching under Hongjoong to push a rough, strong hand on Hongjoong’s throat, in turn making him sob, and San belting out a guttural moan.

“Ahh, so little Joongie is taking San’s big cock in his tight little ass, is he?”

“Yes, and I… I think it’s really fucking hot.”

“Oh?” You hear yet another voice on the other line. “You hear that, Mingi? She thinks it’s hot. Lucky for her, she’ll be seeing a hell of a lot of it, if she ended up agreeing to Joong’s proposition.”

“Hhnng, fuck. Come on, pretty. Cum for me. Cum for Sannie.” San is stroking Hongjoong’s cock impossibly fast with the hand that’s not on his throat making him dizzy with pleasure.

Hongjoong’s hole squeezes San dick over and over as he reaches his release, ropes of white, sticky cum painting the bed below as his body spasms and a muted scream leaves his throat.

“That’s it, baby, just a little more. Let me use you. Let me fuck this cute ass full of my cum.” A few more thrusts brings San to his own toe curling orgasm.

“Now, should we finally let poor Youngie cum, Joongie?” San asks Hongjoong, breathless.

“I think he’s earned it,” a devious smirk planted on Hongjoong’s face.

He adds a third finger into Wooyoung’s ass and fucks him in earnest. Before he wraps his hungry mouth around Wooyoung’s dick, he licks his lips. “Now I can finally swallow you properly, my pretty, pretty Woo.”

A strangled cry is heard from everyone by Wooyoung as Hongjoong pumps his fingers relentlessly into him, and swallows his dick whole.

“Fuck, y’all really tortured poor Wooyo this whole time and didn’t let him cum? No wonder he was so loud!” You hear a third voice radiate through the speaker.

“Sangie?” Wooyoung calls out. “I-I thought you and Yunho had something come up? F-fuck, Joong.” The sound of Hongjoong gurgling on Wooyoung’s cock fills the room.

“Jesus, Joong! He’s not gonna have a dick left when you’re done. But, yeah, that something was Mingi. Me and Yunho decided we needed you four to finally fuck it out, so once we heard Hongjoong was over, a dick appointment with Mingi was too tempting. Sounds like it’s, uh, working in everyone's favor. Except for maybe Y/N.”

“Don’t worry, she’s about to be well taken care of. Baby, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” you blurt out, answering San’s question with zero hesitation.

“Sir? Oh, you’re really trying to get in my good graces aren’t you? Go sit on Woo’s pretty face, Kitten.”

Woo is so fucked out, but you can see the look of excitement as you crawl your way over to him and hover over his face. “He said sit, not hover, Y/N,” he says right before pulling you down to fully seat yourself on his face.

He licks a slow, agonizing path from your fluttering entrance to your swollen clit, and grazes it with his teeth before sucking on it, lewd slurping noises surrounding the two of you. Hongjoong hits the right spot for Wooyoung, because you feel the rumble of his moans into your pussy. He comes up for air, his face glistening with your juices. “Fuck, I could eat this pussy all day, you taste so fucking good. Joongie, s-shit. I’m gonna cum!”

“You better make sure that Y/N does too, Youngie. Don’t be selfish.” orders San, and Hongjoong slows just enough to ease Wooyoung off the edge.

Your legs are already trembling, the heat in your gut having threatened to burst the moment Wooyoung pulled you onto his face. “Cum on my tongue, angel. Need you to give me every last drop.”

He dives back in, devouring you like a man starved. His skilled tongue is fucking in and out of your tight heat, and you grip his long, dark hair, trying to maintain some semblance of sanity. Hongjoong can tell you’re close just by your pornographic noises, and the way you rock your hips on Wooyoung’s face. He curls his fingers inside Wooyoung and sucks hard on his tip, and Wooyoung gives your clit the same treatment. Your legs trap Wooyoung’s head as you cum with a loud string of curses. As Wooyoung drinks up your spilled arousal, Hongjoong pushes once more against his sweet spot, finally earning him the treat he’d been after as he swallows every last drop he’s coaxed from Wooyoung. Wooyoung screams are muffled by your pussy, and they reverberate through you, causing another orgasm to seize your body, unexpectedly.

You roll off of Wooyoung’s face and settle next to him. “You eat pussy like a god, Woo. What the fuck?” Your body is still twitching a bit and your breath steadying after coming down from back to back orgasms, and Wooyoung’s eyes are closed as he smirks.

“My mouth is something I pride myself on, in all ways that can be taken,” he giggles softly.

“I hope you didn’t think we were finished,” San asks tentatively.

“Hmm, nope, just needed a few minutes. You good to go Y/N? Joong?”

You and Hongjoong hum in agreement.

“Ok, that’s settled then. Joongie, on your back. I want Youngie to get you good and hard again, and then cockwarm you, keep you nice and ready for Y/N, yeah?” Hongjoong nods as he gets into position. “As for you, my pretty boy,” San lightly grabs Wooyoung’s chin to make their eyes meet, “I know his cock feels amazing, but save your cum for when our gorgeous Y/N has her tight pussy wrapped around your cock. Think you can handle that?”

Wooyung gives a sadden sigh. “As long as Joongie plays nice, I think I can handle it.”

“Oh, baby. I’m not sure it’s him you’ll have to worry about. Now go on and get our Captain ready.”

Wooyoung heads over to Hongjoong, who is resting and waiting with his hands folded underneath his head. “Y/N, can you come here for just a second?”

You’re unsure of Wooyoung’s next move but you scoot yourself closer to him. “Spread your legs for me, pretty girl.” San keeps a close eye on the interaction, making sure Wooyoung behaves. You follow his instructions and give him a full view of your glistening folds. “Fuck, so pretty.”

He sticks his fingers inside of you to collect some of your slick, which is abundant, considering he just gave you two earth shattering orgasms. You groan as you try to ride his thick fingers, but he pulls them out just as quick as they went in. “Nuh uh, baby. I just needed some help getting Joongie all nice and wet for me. I appreciate the assistance,” his tone playful and bratty.

Using the arousal he just collected from you, he slicks up Hongjoong’s dick and strokes him, playing with his piercings, until he’s back fully hard and leaking. He straddles Hongjoong, facing you and San, and Hongjoong pulls his cheeks apart to watch Wooyoung slide down his dick until he’s fully seated on it. Hongjoong sighs in relief. “Shit, Youngie. So warm and tight,” he says, kneading the soft flesh of Wooyoung’s ass. Wooyoung tries to stay as still as possible and follow San’s orders.

Hongjoong plants his feet on the bed to give San space to mimic his position the opposite direction.

“Y/N. Ride me? You’ve been so patient and I know your pretty little hole is aching to be filled with cock.”

“Yes, sir.” You maneuver yourself just over San’s hard, fat cock and line him up with your entrance. The glide is smooth but you can still feel the burning stretch, and he groans as he bottoms out inside you.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for us. I’ve been waiting so long to have my dick inside you. Such a shame that it took Joongie being gracious enough to share you with us for it to happen. We could have had you cumming on our cocks ages ago.”

You whine at his dirty words, bouncing up and down at a rhythmic pace. He sits himself up on his forearms to watch himself disappear inside your tight pussy. “That’s a fucking sight to see. You take me so well, pretty.”

You readjust yourself and slide your upper body forward so it’s resting on the bed, you propped on your forearms now as well, as you continue to ride San. You’re now also inches away from Wooyoung’s dick, still shining from Hongjoong’s mouth. You wet your lips and run your tongue along every protruding vein on his gorgeous cock. He shivers at the unexpected attention.

“Such a cock tease, Y/N,” he whimpers needily, as he begins rocking his hips against Hongjoong’s dick.

Hongjoong grabs his hips to still him. “You were told to warm me, not fuck me, Youngie.”

“I-I can’t h-help it. Feels so good.” You fully engulf his cock into your hungry mouth and he chokes out a broken moan.

San gives your ass a sharp slap that elicits a moan from you, the vibration traveling to Wooyoung’s cock and making him twitch.

“Such a naughty girl, teasing Youngie and making him squirm, knowing he can’t cum until he has you,” San instigates.

You become even more wet at his words. “Now I know why Joongie can’t stay away,” he pants, breaths becoming uneven. “So nice of him to share this tight, wet pussy with us.”

San pays close attention to Wooyoung and can tell by his high pitched moans that he’s teetering on the edge of his release. Before he topples over, San grabs you by the throat and pops you off of Wooyoung’s dick and pulls you flush to his chest.

Brows furrowing and a disgruntled groan leaving his chest, Wooyoung pouts. Hongjoong still has a bruising grip on his hips, keeping him still. “Only good boys get to cum more than once, Wooyo. And you’ve been a mouthy little brat all night. Prove to me you can behave until Sannie decides you’ve earned Y/N, and maybe we’ll be kind enough to let you cum again.”

San finds your lips, placing sloppy, hot, saliva filled kisses onto them. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting the bitter, salty essence of Wooyoung’s precum lingering. His hips snap into you, sharp and precise, brushing against your cervix on every thrust up. He places gentle pressure on your throat, enough to make your head spin, and your orgasm is quickly approaching from his ministrations. You greedily swallow each other's noises and you can feel San’s cock throbbing inside of you. Your pussy has San in a vice grip and he leaves your lips to scatter kisses across your shoulders and neck.

“You’re squeezing me so tight. Let go and cum on my cock, sweetheart.” Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you come undone on San’s dick and after a few more pumps, he follows, his hot seed filling you so full that it drips out of you around him.

San pulls out of you as you come down from your high. “You did so good, sweetie. Can you still take more? Look at poor, Youngie. He looks like he could use your help, baby.”

You look at Wooyoung who is writhing on Hongjoong’s dick, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Mmm, yes, Sannie. Want to take care of Woo.”

“Go sit on him, baby. And let Joongie do all the work. I have a feeling you’re going to need your energy once he gets a hold of you.”

You make your way over to a very whiny, overstimulated Wooyoung and climb on top of him. You slowly lower yourself onto his dick, and his nails dig into you back as he cries out. “F-fuck, I… shit.”

The mixture of your juices and San’s cum in your hole, still tight and gripping from your orgasm minutes before, encompassing Wooyoung’s dick, has him cumming the moment he’s fully inside of you.

“Shit. I-I’m s-sorry,” Wooyoung chokes out a sob, tears finally escaping his glassy eyes.

“Aww, our pretty Wooyo couldn’t even wait for us, Y/N. Poor, desperate, needy boy,” Hongjoong coos.

“At least he followed Sannie’s orders. But you’re gonna keep being a good boy and let Joongie and I use you, right baby?” you purr in his ear and yank his long, silky hair, exposing his neck to gently suck on it.

“Such a good boy. Use me, please,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love when you’re begging on my cock, pretty boy. We’ve got you, baby.”

Hongjoong starts with a slow and steady pace, and the three of you let out a sound of pleasure. Hongjoong increases his pace as you all become used to the position, him fucking you through Wooyoung.

“Mmm, feels so good, Youngie,” lust lacing your voice as you continue your previous attack on his neck. Your teeth scrape against a sensitive spot and he hums in approval. The pads of your thumbs play with his nipples and his whines raise an octave.

“So good, Woo, letting me fuck you into Y/N. Feel good, baby?”

“Gah, f-fuck. Really good. She’s so wet and tight, Joongie.”

You feel heat at your back, and San has knelt behind you. He places his hands on your hips and rocks you on Wooyoung’s cock, matching Hongjoong’s thrusts below. San rests his chin on your shoulder and Wooyoung instantly attaches his mouth to San’s. The lewd sounds of their make out session next to your ear has the knot in your belly tightening. If the panting in your ear is acting to go by, Wooyoung is just as close as you are, and you glance at Hongjoong to see he isn’t faring any better. His pierced lip is between his teeth, brows knitted in concentration.

San’s hard dick pokes into your back every time he pulls you back, and you instinctively clench around Wooyoung. Now that you’re grinding on Wooyoung on your own accord, San runs his hands up your torso to cup your breasts and knead them in his hands. He pinches your nipples as he and Wooyoung mark your blemish free skin with purpling bruises.

Hongjoong is fucking Wooyoung into you hard, and you gasp as if the air has been punched from your lungs. “Fuck.. s-so close. Don’t stop, please,” you babble.

“Please, Joongie. Don’t stop. S’close too. Y/N is about to drain me for everything I have, she’s squeezing me so fucking tight. Come on, pretty girl.”

“Feels so good. I’m gon-,” your sentence unfinished as you cum so hard that your vision blanks and your hearing betrays you for a few moments, your head resting on San’s shoulder.

The pulsing of your pussy around Wooyoung has him cumming what seems like an endless supply deep inside you. “That’s it, Y/N. Take every last drop.”

The domino effect continues, as Hongjoong follows right behind Wooyoung, wrapping his arms tightly around him and giving a few final strokes. He collapses back onto the bed and lightly chuckles. “I was genuinely concerned you were gonna take my dick off for a second, Woo. I don’t think you’ve ever cum that hard around my dick.”

“Well, you can thank Y/N for that one. She’s got a perfect pussy.”

San removes you from Wooyoung and cuddles you in his arms while the aftershocks of your release calm down. Hongjoong slides out of Wooyoung and cuddles him as well. He pets Wooyoung’s hair as he addresses the both of you. “You both did so good, my babies.” San kisses your temple and makes a noise of agreement.

“Sannie and Youngie felt so, so good. Filled me up so nicely, and I would not be opposed to riding Woo’s face for the rest of my life.”

“Oh?”

You can sense the jealousy seeping out of Hongjoong’s every pore. Which was absolutely your intention. Everyone had been a little too gentle for your liking tonight, and you just wanted Hongjoong to fuck you stupid and remind you who you actually belonged to.

“Sannie fucked me so g-,”

Hongjoong interrupts you. “Kitten, that’s enough.” Anyone else would be scared of the look in his eyes right now, but you’ve got him exactly where you want him. All you need to do is push just a little further.

“What?” you feign innocence. “I was just saying how good they made me feel.” San stifles a laugh as you back talk Hongjoong, because he knows you’re about to be in for it. He quietly slips out from behind you and collects a spent Wooyoung from Hongjoong to go sit over on the couch, ready to enjoy the show.

“Do you think that I don’t have eyes? Or ears, Y/N? Do you think I didn’t hear every sound or see every face you made while they fucked you? While Youngie devoured your pussy?” he hisses.

He makes his way over to you and shoves you back, caging you underneath him.

“You’re a pliant little fucking mess for Sannie, aren’t you?” one of his pretty, inked hands reaching to clasp your throat. “You like how he fucked you, hmm? Let him stuff you full of his cum. Still wasn’t enough for you, you had to be full from both ends, huh? Making Youngie squirm on my cock.”

“I loved every second of it,” you say as loud as you can with Hongjoong’s hand around your neck, a devious smirk decorating your lips.

“I bet you did, Kitten. But let me remind you who you belong to, hmm?”

You hear moans and heavy breathing followed by a ‘fuck’ that doesn’t come from any of the four of you in the room. You all take a moment and realize it’s coming from Hongjoong’s forgotten phone, which has made its way onto the floor at some point.

“Fucking hell, Mingi-ya. I thought you would have hung up by now, since I hadn’t.”

“No, we were really enjoying what we were hearing. Y/N makes some pretty fucking sounds. I hadn’t gotten to hear her yet. Kinda feeling left out, not gonna lie.”

“Maybe if you’re a good boy, Princess, Hongjoong will let you have your chance,” Yunho says in the background.

“God damn, Yeo! Ok, I gotta go. Y’all have given us a very horny Sangie, who currently has my dick down his throat.”

The line goes silent and Hongjoong’s attention returns to you.

“You didn’t think Mingi was going to get you out of this did you?”

“No, but I think you were about to remind me who I belonged to, Captain,” your voice smooth as velvet.

“Spread your legs. Now.” His voice is commanding but calm, and you do as you’re told. “I want you to look at me while you play with that pretty little pussy.”

You dip your fingers into your entrance to gather some of the mixture of cum and rub lazy circles against your clit, eyes locked on Hongjoong. He bites his lip and groans as he pumps his long, hard cock. Your breaths begin to pick up, and your moans and whimpers increase. Hongjoong moves to hover over you. He drinks in the sight of you. Cheeks flushed, mouth parted in pleasure, chest rising and falling in short bursts. “What pretty little noises you make for me. Let’s see how long I can hear them tonight. Don’t stop unless I tell you to, understand?” You give him a small nod.

He makes his way down in between your thighs and ghosts kisses up and down, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He bites down hard on your left inner thigh and suckles. The intensity makes you shriek and your legs shake and you can feel Hongjoong smile against you. “That’s it, let me hear you, Kitten.”

He doesn’t stop until your inner thighs are completely covered in perfect bite marks and various depths of purpling darkness. You’re a writhing mess between your own fingers and his expert mouth. The coil in your gut keeps winding tighter and tighter. “I love how you can’t control yourself when you’re about to cum. But I need you to cum on my tongue, baby.” He removes your hand from your aching nub and replaces it with his tongue.

“Fuuuck, right there, please. Don’t stop.” He nibbles your clit before fully taking it into his mouth, sucking on it like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste. Your hands find purchase in his hair as your back arches off the bed, and your orgasm ripples through you like a freight train. He detaches himself from you, face covered in your arousal as he comes up to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue and you deepen the kiss.

“Tell Sannie and Wooyo who’s making you feel this good, Kitten,” he whispers against your lips.

“You, Captain. Fuck.” You wrap your legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer, urging him to fuck you.

“Good girl. Let’s see how many more you can give me, shall we? I’m gonna make you cum so many times that you forget your own name. I may allow the others to enjoy you, but don’t you ever forget who this pussy belongs to, Kitten.”

“Please, Captain. I need you inside of me,” you beg.

He chuckles darkly as he untangles himself from your legs and goes to sit against the headboard.

“I bet you do, baby. But before I even think about giving you my cock, you’re gonna cum for me again. And the only way I’ll allow you to do that is by riding my thigh. Come take your place, pretty girl.”

You crawl on your knees over to him and situate yourself on one of his thick, strong thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your forehead against his shoulder as you grind yourself on his thigh, your wetness making the slide easy. He covers your neck in love bites, but that’s the only form of attention he’s giving you. “If you want it, you have to work for it, Kitten.”

You grind down harder, trying to find the right amount of friction to bring you to your climax. You whine and whimper into his neck as you struggle to get yourself there.

“Does my baby need help?” Hongjoong mocks.

“Please, Captain.”

“Maybe you should watch Sannie over there, fucking Youngie into the cushions, since you enjoyed them so much, hmm?” Wooyoung cries out from a rough thrust of San’s hips. You had long forgotten the others in the room as Hongjoong teased you, making him your sole focus.

“No, I need you. Please touch me,” your voice heavy with desperation as you continue your valiant effort to cum on your own, to no avail.

“You even remembered your manners. Such a good girl.” He flexes his thigh underneath you, the stimulation it causes is delicious. He rolls a nipple between his fingers of one hand, and chokes you with the other, making you head spin with pleasure.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant. “I’m gonna c-.” Your sentence is cut short as Hongjoong removes the hand from your throat and shoves his thumb into your mouth, which you greedily suck.

“What was that, Kitten? I didn’t quite hear you.” Your legs clamp around his thigh as you cum all over it, and your mouth drops open, drool falling down your chin and Hongjoong’s delicate hand. “Making such a mess, baby.”

Before you can recover, he repositions you to lay over his lap on your back and pins one of your legs to his chest, leaving your pussy on full display. “I want Sannie and Wooyo to watch how well you take my fingers. If you’re a good girl for me, I’ll give you my cock next. How’s that sound?”

All you manage is a fucked out whine as he plays with your clit, and you can feel the eyes of the other two on your swollen, sensitive pussy, having clearly finished with whatever they were doing beforehand because Wooyoung is now relaxed on San’s lap.

Hongjoong shoves two fingers inside your abused hole, and curls them to play with your sweet spot. His fingers are fucking you at an unforgiving stride. You cling to his arm for dear life, leaving crescent shaped marks with your nails.

“T-too much, Joongie,” you mewl, wriggling in his grip.

“Take it for me, pretty girl.” He ignores the fact that you didn’t call him by his correct title, knowing there’s no thoughts left in your brain but his fingers deep inside you.

“You’re doing so good for Captain, sweetheart,” San praises. You groan as the wet sounds of Hongjoong playing with your pussy fill the room. If you had been in a proper state of mind, you might have been embarrassed. But Hongjoong is bringing you to yet another orgasm, and you’ve lost all sense of shame.

“Look at you, quivering around Joongie’s fingers. So pretty,” Wooyoung murmurs.

You’re panting heavily as tears begin to flow and Hongjoong can tell you’re close to cumming again. “You close, Kitten? Look at me. I want to watch that pretty face twisted in pleasure when you cum all over my fingers.”

You do your best to focus on Hongjoong as he massages your sweet spot. “Sannie and Youngie don’t make you feel this good, do they, baby?,” he purrs.

“Hnng, n-no, Captain. H-harder! Gonna cum!” your watery eyes focused on the man knuckles deep in your hole.

Wooyoung and San watch as your pussy contracts around Hongjoong’s fingers and you squirt and drench him and yourself. Hongjoong admires the blissed out expression on your face, knowing only he can make you this fucked out.

“So proud of you. You did so good. Have you had enough for tonight, Kitten?”

You sit up and shake your head and pout up at him, stroking his neglected cock. You’re three climaxes in just from Hongjoong, and Hongjoong hasn’t cum for you once. If you’re being honest, you’re a bit offended, even though you know his intention was to focus on you and your pleasure. “You promised me your cock if I was good, Captain. You came for Wooyo and Sannie. But not for me. I’ve been good and you said you would give it to me!”

An exasperated sigh leaves Hongjoong’s lips as his eyes grow dark. “You really just want to be fucked full of everyone’s cum tonight, hmm Kitten? How hard do you want it?”

“Ruin me, Captain. Please?”

“Fuck.”

He pins you down to the bed and manhandles you into a mating press, plunging his dick into your waiting pussy. “You wanted me to ruin you baby, so you’re gonna lay here and take every inch of my cock.”

He thrusts into you with an unyielding force, the sound of skin meeting skin deafening in the room. A loud, long moan leaves from your parted lips. “That’s it, Kitten. Moan for me, just like that.” He pants into your plush thigh, placing tender kisses, quite the opposite of his strokes.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Captain.”

He leans in to capture your lips, a mix of tongue, teeth, and spit exchanged between the two of you. You suck on his pierced lip to encourage him to make those desperate sounds you love so much. The jewelry of his pretty dick drags along your walls so nicely, it makes you gasp. He bites your neck and sucks a mark, darker than all the others you’ve received tonight.

“Mine,” he growls. “And I’m gonna make sure everyone fucking knows it.”

“Yes, Captain, yours.”

His pounding pace has gotten even more unforgiving and you feel yourself barreling towards another blinding release. Hongjoong’s teeth find every inch of skin he can reach and bites hard enough that he knows it will leave bruises for the others to see.

“Joongie, I can feel you throbbing inside of me. Fuck me full? Please? Cum for me?” you whine at him.

“If you want my cum, you’re gonna have to cum first and drain it from me. Squeeze my cock, baby.”

Your pussy hugs him tighter, and the pleasure intensifies even more than you could imagine. “Fuuuuck,” you groan as you take one of his hands and place it around your throat, silently pleading him to squeeze. He follows your silent request and your back arches and your eyes roll in the back of your head, tears falling from them simultaneously. Your mouth drops open and drool leaks from the corners, as you let out as loud of a scream as you can manage.

Hongjoong slides in and out of your pulsing pussy a few more times, before he reaches his own release and stills inside of you. “Goddamnit, Kitten. That’s it, take every last drop. My good girl deserves it.”

He brings you close to him as he collapses next to you, not yet wanting to pull out. He gives your lips delicate, unhurried kisses as you both catch your breath. San and Wooyoung make their way to the bed to join in on the cuddling. Wooyoung hugs you from behind and snuggles into you, and San behind Hongjoong.

“You all did so well. Especially you, Y/N,” San praises. “Is everyone satiated now?” Some form of approval is announced by everyone. “Good. I really enjoyed tonight. I know Y/N probably can’t even move right now, but we’ve got to get cleaned up. We’re a fucking mess.”

He slips out from behind Hongjoong and he makes a disapproving sound at the loss of warmth.

“I’m just going to go run us a bath, Joongie. I’ll be right back,” San reassures as he pats Hongjoong’s head.

San heads towards the on suite bathroom and you hear the water running. Hongjoong plants another kiss to your lips before he goes to leave as well. “Stay here and cuddle with Youngie, baby. I’ll be right back.” You manage a small nod as he pushes himself up and off the bed and finds his boxers in the pile of forgotten clothes. Wooyoung nuzzles your neck and squeezes you tighter.

Before you can drift off, San renters the room. He kneels at your side and scoops you up. “I’ll be right back for you, Youngie. Ok, baby?”

“Mmm, yes Sannie.”

San carries your spent body to the bathroom and gently places you in the tub. The warm water and soothing scent of the candles San lit instantly relaxes your aching body, and you rest against the wall of the tub. “I’ll be right back, pretty. I’m gonna go get Youngie.” You hum as your eyes struggle to stay open.

As promised, San returns with Wooyoung and sets him in the bath in front of you, and you cling to him, pulling him to rest against you. San leaves again, letting you both know he’ll return shortly.

“So that was definitely something,” Wooyoung murmurs to you.

“It was amazing,” you respond.

“I never knew you could cum so much, Y/N. All those other men you’ve brought over must have been trash.” You cackle at his bluntness and scratch your fingertips against his scalp. “Hmmm, that feels nice.”

San meets Hongjoong back in the room where Hongjoong has prepared a snacking board of different items and drinks for everyone.

“They’re settled in the tub, probably waiting for us to return. I’m going to change the sheets and toss the others in the wash,” San informs Hongjoong as he sets everything down onto the nightstand.

“Ok, I’ll go keep an eye on them. They’re probably plotting their next scheme against us,” Hongjoong jokes.

“We can only hope, huh?” San gives Hongjoong a dimpled smile.

“Thanks for taking care of all of us tonight, Sannie.”

“Hey, you took care of everyone too, ya know.”

“We make a pretty good team, I’d have to say,” Hongjoong says definitively.

“We sure do. I’ll join you all in a few. Go take care of our babies in the meantime.”

Hongjoong walks in to see you and Wooyoung talking and giggling with each other. He drops his boxers and inserts himself behind you in the water. “How are you doing, my loves?” He scoots you and Wooyoung closer to him.

“You walked in on our next plan to overtake you and San,” you pout.

He chuckles at you as he relays the conversation he just had with San back in the bedroom. Just then, San enters the bathroom and slides in on the opposite end of the three of you. In this moment, you’re thankful for the abnormally large tub that can easily accommodate the four of you.

“Youngie, come here baby,” San beckons Wooyoung over to him. He makes his way to San and settles in his lap. “What was going on in here, huh?”

“I told you they were plotting our demise!” Hongjoong says and he and San share a laugh.

“I can guarantee you that Hongjoong and I will easily foil those plans!”

You all spend time talking about tonight’s events and potential future plans, Hongjoong and San smothering you and Wooyoung with affection. The water is now lukewarm and San is the first to hop out. He slings a towel around his waist and Hongjoong follows. Hongjoong helps you out of the tub, now that your legs are more stable, and dries you off. He helps you into your favorite fluffy robe as San tends to Wooyoung.

The four of you throw on something light to sleep in and flop onto the clean sheets, and Hongjoong grabs the platter from the nightstand and sets it in between the circle that has been created. Hongjoong grabs a piece of fruit and brings it to your lips.

“Eat, baby,” his voice gentle, yet commanding. You open your mouth so he can feed it to you, and you playfully bite his fingers.

“Yah! Don’t bite!” he exclaims and the whole room erupts into laughter.

“Says you! Look at me!”

“They look pretty on you though,” he says with a smirk.

As the plate clears, and the drinks are empty, everyone begins to entangle themselves and curl into a pile of limbs. As comfortable silence falls upon the group, Hongjoong’s phone rings again. He reaches for it and answers it on speaker.

“Hey, Mingi-ya. What’s up?”

“So umm, when do we get a chance with Y/N?”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez fanfic #ateez atiny #ateez fic #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #brats and backtalk #choi san #jung wooyoung #song mingi #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #jenga and jealousy

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seresinhangmanjake · 3 hours

Text

His and Yours

Summary: When you're told your pregnancy could cost you your life, Feyd demands you do whatever necessary to keep yourself alive. When you decide to have the baby anyway, it creates a rift in your relationship. Only when you go into labor, does Feyd show himself for who he really is.

Warnings/ Notes: Very angsty, but ends on a happy note. Very sensitive topics about pregnancy, abortion, and conversations about potential death. It’s Feyd here people, and we can imagine how he’d be with sensitive topics. Please only read if you understand this. Requested by @tgmreader

**While it is not necessary to read my other work to read this fic, this works also as another part to my "His" series. However, (even though it ends on a happy note) if this content makes you uncomfortable, it is not necessary to read in order to understand any future parts in the series. I know people love them together and that this is a difficult issue, so do not feel obligated.**

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Words: 2950

“Feyd…” you sigh as you watch him pace back and forth. He doesn’t so much as acknowledge you until you attempt to get up from your seat to go to him.

With an outstretched arm and a finger pointed directly at you, he says in a harsh tone—harsher than you’ve heard in a long time, “Don’t you move a fucking inch!”

You plop back into your seat. “We have to talk about this.”

“No!” he snaps. He descends upon you with rushed stomps, his hands gripping the armrests of your chair. You have to tilt your head back to meet his fiery gaze. “There will be no talking about this,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “No discussion. No negotiations. No weighing the pros and cons.” You swallow as a tear builds in the corner of your eye. Feyd groans and pushes away from the chair. “Stop crying.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“To not die!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the vast, empty room. “I expect my wife to do whatever she has to in order to keep me happy! That’s your job!”

You glance down. Your hand runs over the slightly bulbous shape of your stomach. A tear creates a dark patch on the fabric of your dress. A dress he picked out for you. He’d been so enthusiastic about every element related to your pregnancy, including dressing his wife in new gowns as you grew with the passing months. This is one of the first he’d chosen.

“I thought my job was to provide you with an heir,” you say.

“Not at the cost of your life!”

He had almost missed the appointment for more professional matters. Now you wish he had. When the doctor told you that you might not survive giving birth, he gave you a choice: risk having the child anyway or drink a tonic that will terminate your pregnancy while it’s still safe. You knew Feyd’s mind was made up in that very moment. But yours wasn’t. This is your child, a perfect combination of you and the only man you’ve ever loved, and yet, your questioning of what is best has your husband looking at you like you’ve lost your damn mind; like you’re a fool with a knack for selfishness.

“I’m the na-Baron,” he says. “You’re under my authority. I decide for the both of us.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care if it’s fair! We can make a hundred heirs, but there isn’t another you!” he screams. You wonder if the rest of the Harkonnen fortress hears—the soldiers, the servants. You wonder if they fear for their lives because of an outburst that has nothing to do with them. They should. Your husband is likely to go on a rampage throughout the place the moment this conversation ends, should it ever.

When you shrivel in your chair, a crease dents the center of his brow. Feyd returns to you, his warm palms cupping your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours. “You can’t ask me to let you do this,” he says with a subtle whimper. “I won’t ever forgive you.”

“What about my forgiveness of you?”

Feyd jerks back. The pain in his eyes shrinks under darkness. “You have nothing to forgive me for.”

Finally, you stand. “You want me to give up our baby,” you argue. “You don’t think I deserve to–”

“No!” You jump. “I care about you! I love you! Not some thing that wants to take you away from me!”

“Feyd–”

“I refuse to continue this conversation,” he says. “I’ve made the decision. It’s done.”

—

He’d tried everything. He had meal preparers mix it in with your usual dinner drink until the nasty sludge color disappeared. He attempted to have your maidservants slip it into your morning tea, your evening glass of warm milk, and, even more desperately, into your bathwater. However, the only servants close enough to you that he could demand such a task from became primarily loyal to you after your marriage six months prior, and as a result, each one informed you of his plans. Five servants fell to your husband's blade before he surrendered that tactic to attempt anew. But with his final effort, what died between you was nothing other than what had been keeping you together—affection.

With your feelings numb, there was little foundation for your relationship to stand upon. When he took you and made you his concubine, Feyd kept you safe. He did the physical work to protect you in a newly twisted relationship while you did all of the emotional work. You broke down the walls he’d built, got him to open up, showed him that caring for you wouldn’t be the end of the world. Convincing you to get rid of your baby was the hardest he’d ever emotionally worked for you, and since failure was not a thing he had known, nothing was going to stop him.

He didn’t understand that kissing you with the tonic filling his mouth was too far, even for what he’d already done. He didn’t understand that he had already lost so much of your trust with his deceit and that that kiss was enough to scorch the rest of it. You might have left him had you not been able to wash the substance from your mouth before it could do its damage.

When you first turned him away, he threw his fits. He screamed at you and for you every day until you made it clear you weren’t coming to him, but even then, he didn’t allow you to neglect the expectations he had for you. In front of others, you were to act as his wife—stand by his side, attend meetings in silence, kiss him goodbye before his trips to Arrakis—but the larger your belly grew, the less he was willing to have you near.

You don’t sleep in the same bed now. You don’t take your meals together or bathe together or, frankly, see one another. He looks the other way when he crosses your path. His fists clench like he wants to touch you, his Adam’s apple bobs like he’s holding back from kissing you, but his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he won’t go near you.

You know he's preparing himself to lose his wife. Anger, while present, hasn’t been the dominant fuel for his behavior for a while, and neither is it yours. You were furious, but with your baby due in a month, you struggle to bear the loneliness, and the longer he continues to treat you like you’re a plague, the more you miss him, and the more you fear for your child. Who will love it if you are not here? Who will protect it and teach it and nourish it? Certainly not the one who should and once promised he would. And as the days close in, you wonder if he was right. If you made a mistake.

—

I need him—that’s all you can think as your baby fights to leave your body. You need your husband here, and the reasons are far too overwhelming, but you can’t focus on anything else. You miss him. You can’t do this alone. And if you die today, you have to say goodbye. You have to tell him you love him and make him swear to protect your child, or it was all for nothing.

“I need him,” you screech through your teeth with the contraction that hits you.

“My Lady–” one of the nurses begins. Her voice is shaky, worried eyes flicking back and forth between yours and the doctor between your legs who has just reached for another clean rag after discarding a blood-soaked one. “My Lady, the na-Baron–”

“I don’t care! I need him!”

He must’ve been there, listening, because Feyd’s through the door in an instant, and as his eyes lock on to yours, everything else—all the pain and lies—is shoved behind you. He takes a step forward but pauses, momentarily distracted by the wear on your body, before he blinks and continues forward, shoving people aside to get to you. He falls to his knees by your bed and when your hand reaches out, he clutches it tightly in both of his. Too tightly. You can feel your pulse throbbing harder from the pressure on your veins, but you don’t care.

“Feyd, I–”

“Don’t do this to me,” he mutters as tears well in his eyes. The first you’ve ever seen. He didn’t so much as shed a tear on your wedding day or when you told him you were pregnant, but as the first one falls down his cheek, you realize he’s about to make up for every missed opportunity.

You can’t respond. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you won’t do anything to him, that you won’t hurt him, that you’ll be fine, and that you’ll be a family. You’re too exhausted to lie. He seems to know it because he doesn’t make the request again. Instead, he kisses your fingers over and over, repeating words of love that are not often said.

“My Lady, I know it hurts, but if you can shift downwards a bit,” the doctor starts. “At this angle, we might be able to–”

Feyd wipes his eyes and shoots to his feet. “You can save her?”

“There might be a better chance.”

You groan as you maneuver your body. Feyd does what he can to assist, but it doesn’t ease the searing, stabbing feeling at your core.

“That’s better,” the doctor praises.

“She’s your priority,” Feyd says sternly.

You gasp. “N-No…”

Your husband’s head whips back to you. “I’m not watching you die,” he growls.

“For…our baby,” you say to Feyd’s hardened features. You cry harder for the pain of realizing that out of you and your baby, he would still choose you. You don’t know why you expected any different. In the five minutes of his presence, he gave no indication of a change of heart, but it’s disappointing all the same. “P-Please.”

The doctor doesn’t look up from the task at hand but listens for further instruction. “My Lord?”

Feyd stares at you for a long while, his expression unchanged. He doesn’t squeeze your hand or kiss your forehead or brush away the damp hair from your forehead with your next contraction. He doesn’t flinch at your joining shriek. He’s gone, lost in the world of his thoughts until he decides to come back. His eyes close. He grinds his back teeth. His brow pinches and he shakes his head.

“The baby,” Feyd struggles to get out. He pauses before he says, “And then my wife.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The next half-hour is white-hot, blinding agony. You can no longer move—a statue as the doctor slices pieces of you open to accommodate your child’s position. He doesn’t want to come out. He doesn’t want to leave his mother. You can’t blame him. If you had the same fate awaiting you upon joining the world, you might not rush to leave the confines of comfort either. He has no reason to separate himself from everything he’s known to fall into the hands of a man who does not love him. But his unwillingness to leave you is what will eventually take you from him.

You can feel it. The draining. Of blood. Of life. Your energy is long gone and at this point, you can’t imagine lasting long enough to be saved, even if you survive just in time to hear your baby’s first cry.

“We’re almost there,” the doctor says. His words are hazy as your brain drifts, struggling to keep you conscious. But then you feel a release of pressure, a missing weight. Emptiness. Solitude.

“Save my wife!” you hear in the aftermath, but you’re not worried about that. You need to know he’s ok and perfect and that he has all of his fingers and toes. You need to know if he has a dusting of hair on his head, or if he’s like your husband. Does he more resemble his father? Complexion and eyes and lips poutier than yours? You need to know these things about your son.

But you suppose you never will. Your vision is too blurry to make out his tiny form, but among Feyd’s shouts, you hear a beautiful little wail as your eyelids flutter closed. And that’s enough.

—

The last thing you heard upon your death is the first thing you hear when you wake. And it terrifies you. Surely, you should not be hearing that sound. If you can hear him, then he’s with you, and he can’t be with you because you’re not here. Not really. You don’t exist on the plane he should be existing on. You exist in darkness now, and he was only ever meant to see the light. That’s what you saved him for. That’s what you used every remaining ounce of your will and soul and heart to do. You left so he could stay. So how could he be with you?

“Can you hear him?”

Yes. You cannot see him, but you can hear him. He sounds so much like you remember. His coos are not the wails, but the noises are brothers. You part your lips to call his name only to realize you never got the chance to give him one.

“He’s perfect,” the voice says. “Everything about him.” A tear trickles down your cheek. “I need you to meet him. He wants to see his mother.”

You want to see him, too, so badly, and as you feel the desire, a flash of light shoots across your vision. One flash, and then another. Another flash, and then one more. Brightness obscures every image as your eyes shift, attempting to take in your surroundings. You’re not sure this is better. In the darkness, you can rest. This is simply torturous, and your baby is not even here.

Heat from a heavy, shaky sigh hits your skin. Relief. Lips land on yours for a long beat before finding your forehead. A skull presses to your skull. The breath is taken from your lungs by another kiss. A droplet splashes onto your cheek.

“You don’t ever do this to us again.” When your vision adjusts, your husband is there. “Do you understand me?”

You nod before you can think not to, before you can think that Feyd is not meant to be here, either. But if he is here, then why does he look so happy? Would he really rather the three of you be gone forever than to raise your baby without you? You scold your idiocy. Of course, he would.

“You were out for three days,” he says. “Longest three days of my life.”

Out. Not dead. Not gone.

Feyd helps you sit up. He disappears and then returns with a bundle of fabric. “Look,” he says, smiling, sniffling, and then smiling again. Two of his fingers gently nudge a section of the blanket aside to reveal a tiny face. Tiny nose, tiny lips, tiny eyes. Lashes that rest on tiny cheeks. A much smaller spitting image of your husband. “He’s got your eyes, I promise,” Feyd says, and your son proves it when his eyelids flutter open.

“Do you think you’ve got the strength to hold him?”

You nod again. “Y-Yes,” you say, like it’s your first word.

Feyd uncurls his arms from the baby and settles him into your awaiting ones. He’s lighter than you expected—probably to do with coming a little early—but the weight of him snaps the bits of you that were lagging behind in the unconscious world to the present. You gasp.

You’re alive. Your baby is alive. Your husband is here. They’re both beautiful. “I’m alive.”

Feyd sits back down in the chair that is pulled up to the side of your bed. He swallows. “Yes. Barely, for a moment, but…yes.”

You cuddle your baby to your chest and run your finger down his nose. He’s softer than the blanket that snuggles him. Soft like you rather than his father. He’ll grow strong like the man you can’t help loving, but he’ll have more heart, and that balance will make him a great Baron one day. A great man.

“Do you hate me?” Feyd asks. “For what I did?”

Your head hurts and you still feel groggy, but you’re aware enough to know that you don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. It shocks you that he doesn’t know that, but then again, he’d never done anything like what he did before, and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t know that he wouldn’t do it again should you fall pregnant with another child. You don’t trust him right now, and there’s only one thing that could ever convince you to attempt repairing that trust.

“Do you love him?” you say as you gently rock your baby.

Feyd glances down at your son. There’s no contemplation. “More than anything.”

“You’ll protect him?”

His eyes flick back up to yours. “With my life,” he says. And you believe him.

You became a mother the second you felt that little life growing inside of you, but you can accept that upon looking at your son, spending time with him, your husband learned to become a father. Had you died, you don’t know what would have happened, but you can’t dwell on that and hope to keep your family together at the same time. He loves the child you made together, and that’s all you ever wanted.

“Then, no,” you tell him. “I don’t hate you.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #feyd rautha fic #dune 2

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echo-rambles · 7 months

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use my body against me

summary: when a drunk text to your ex gets answered in a way you never expected, it leads to falling right back into old habits. tags: past established relationship, ex-boyfriend chan, suggestive content but nothing explicit, mention of recreational alcohol use, swearing. notes: title from the way you miss me by all time low. mostly a rewrite of my very first reader insert fic, because I loved the concept but I wasn't a fan of my own writing, and I think I've vastly improved since. I might write a continuation, but no promises.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The situation you currently find yourself in is truly one of your own making. There’s really no one else to blame, no matter how much you would love to point the finger at literally anyone besides yourself.

There’s a text message from Bang Christopher Chan sitting there, on your phone. Staring up at you almost accusatory and chilling you to the bone.

-Good morning, I hope you’re drinking water to combat all of that vodka you consumed last night! hahaha

At first, the text means nothing to you. It leaves you in a state of mild confusion only exacerbated by your incredible hangover. How would he know you drank your weight in liquor? The only answer you can even try to think up isn’t a good one. Feeling brave and a little nauseous, you decide to scroll up, farther into this conversation between you and your ex.

The confusion melts away into horror as you locate the beginning of this conversation. One glance at the selfie you sent has the memory coming back to you, causing your headache to flare. Oh no.

It was late last night, and you had already drank one too many shots of whatever fruity flavored vodka was available. Shut away in Felix’s bathroom, the light overhead far too harsh and fluorescent, pulling your shirt down enough to show off your cleavage. Snapping a picture in the mirror above the sink, leaning into the counter and trying your best to look some approximation of sexy.

Fumbling fingers sent it to Chan. The first text between the two of you in months.

Looking at the selfie now has your stomach twisting into knots. Oh no. The texts that followed aren’t any better. Actually, they somehow make the entire situation worse.

-the fact that i wore this shirt hoping you’d be at this party only to learn you went home EARLY?

-i wasted such an amazing outfit and for nothing

-i bet you looked good too. bastard

-sometimes i can’t tell if i miss you or just the weight of you on top of me

-i miss how good you were -i know fora fact i miss your mouth -i miss your mouth on MY MOUTH -omg i miss my mouth on your

You swipe away from those messages. Knowing for a fact you’ll have to read them eventually, to get a proper understanding of the things you said to him. But not right now. Right now you continue to scroll, your texts devolving into a mix of incomprehensible emojis and bitching at Chan about things he very obviously can’t control. You were a mess, holy shit. Who even let you text? Why wasn’t your phone confiscated the moment vodka hit your lips?

The only things that Chan has replied with since your terrible wall of drunk texts is an initial Oh wow lol, and his aforementioned good morning text.

It could be worse, right? He could’ve blocked you or typed out an excruciatingly long lecture about drinking responsibly. It honestly could’ve been so much worse.

Crawling your way out of bed, still vaguely nauseous and trying to fight the urge to lay face down on the floor and never get up again, you shuffle your way into the bathroom. First thing’s first before you tackle whatever the fuck is on your phone, you decide to wash up to feel human again.

The world can fall apart around you for all you care. All you want is a shower and some toothpaste.

Wrapped in a towel and your toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you finally decide to reply. You probably shouldn’t, especially now that you’re sober and know better, but you have to apologize. That feels like the polite thing to do.

Well, the only way to begin is by beginning.

-lol hey good afternoon

-I ended up demolishing an entire water bottle when I got home last night but sadly it wasn’t enough to save me

How do you even apologize for last night? Sorry I was so angry and horny and I made it your problem? Sorry that the first time I've texted you since we broke up was a drunk thirst trap? So sorry, and hey by the way how have you been since we had the messiest breakup because you’re bad at prioritizing and I’m bad at communication?

Yeah, definitely none of that.

You’re still standing there in your bathroom, staring into the mirror and brushing your teeth on autopilot as your mind spins into itself, when your phone lights up. One notification followed swiftly by a second, making your phone buzz on the counter.

Chan’s contact stares back at you, both messages fading off into ellipses.

-Ah, RIP. You should’ve drank three…

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could…

Oh, you don’t think this is the sort of message you can read by yourself while still combating the aching nausea of a hangover. Absolutely not, whatever he has to say can be answered once you have a sufficient amount of caffeine and the right company.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“I need a second opinion.” It’s the first thing you say, after sitting down across from Felix and shoving your phone at him. Showing off the string of text messages you experienced after waking up. You still haven’t read the newest text.

Felix barely even moves his head from where it’s resting against the table. He’s clearly just as hungover as you are, but you feel like you’re in the middle of making a very bad decision and you need a second opinion. You shimmy your phone under the seam where his forehead meets the wood.

With a little pout and deep groan, he’s shifting around and unlocking your phone. The silence stretches on as he swipes through the text thread and stares, blinks, and blinks some more. With a start, he’s sitting up straight, pulling the phone closer.

“Wait, he wants to meet up with you?”

“He wants to what?” You snatch the phone from his hands, finally reading the text yourself.

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could maybe grab lunch? Or, if you’re still too hungover for lunch, maybe something later?

Just the idea of seeing him again has something hot and electric buzzing through your veins. Your immediate instinct is to say yes. You want to say yes so badly, yes a thousand times over. Instead you very deliberately place your phone onto the table.

Felix has slumped back into his seat, eyeing you warily. “I thought you weren’t talking to him?”

“I mean- I wasn’t. But now I am, kind of? It’s not that big of a deal-”

“It felt like you two went through a divorce, I don’t know if I’d say it’s ‘not a big deal’-”

“I’m over it!” You proclaim, a little loudly. A little desperately. “And he is too if he’s talking to me.”

All you get in response is Felix’s eyebrows pitching inwards and his mouth molding into a little frown. The type of frown that is trying very hard to not be a frown. He’s giving you the most pitying look you’ve probably ever seen on his angelic face.

You should say no. Scoop up your phone and tell him that you can’t make it. Conjure up some far flung excuse so that you won’t reopen old wounds. But you want to see him again, desperately.

You tap your fingers along the edge of the table. “Is this a bad idea?”

“Do you want my truthful answer?” Felix replies from the depths of his hoodie. Your phone sits between you, dark screen facing the ceiling.

You think for a moment. “Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

The thing is, you know he has a point. It doesn’t feel very good but it’s true. Sure, you and Chan can be amicable over text, but that’s over text. Who knows what will happen if you’re face to face. Would it be awkward and stilted? Or maybe everything you say to each other will be filled with vitriolic anger. Things didn’t exactly end on the best terms, and that might just leak into an otherwise pleasant meeting.

But you are nothing if not a professional at both denial and deflections, so you push all of those thoughts very far away.

Maybe this could be a new start. Maybe you and Chan could be the incredibly rare type of people who are friends with their ex. You’d like that, actually, to have Chan back in your life beyond some tertiary character you hear about from other people. Texting him reminded you how much you actually miss your best friend.

Snatching your phone up, you just barely restrain yourself from checking to see if you somehow managed to miss any new messages.

“It’s a friend thing! Friend’s hang out all the time. We're going to go get coffee or something equally platonic and we're going to ignore all of the drunk texts I sent him!” Your voice raises in pitch towards the end, and it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

Felix gives you a very unimpressed look. “You told him that you miss the feel of his-”

“I know what I said!"

"In your mouth-"

"Thank you!”

Those texts are burned into your brain, you're well aware of the things you sent Chan. How they got more detailed the more you sent. Just remembering some of them has you flushing.

“I mean," Felix hums, oblivious to the direction your thoughts are taking. "I guess it could be a thing friends do.” There's too much sarcasm in his words for your liking.

“As if you haven’t said something similar to any of your friends.”

One of his eyebrows arch, and the gesture is so very pointed. “Any friend that I’ve gotten on my knees for was never at any point an extremely complicated ex.”

"Shut the fuck up." He's right and you hate it.

But still. You want to see Chan so badly. Finally you give in to the all consuming urge to reply. Opening up Chan’s contact, your fingers work quickly.

-I mean, if you’re paying…

-Of course I’ll pay haha

-then count me in!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cave so quickly.” Felix sighs, but there’s something all tangled into his words. Some emotion you can’t really identify right now. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounds hopeful.

“Seriously, shut up.”

“You came here asking for my opinion!”

“Well!” You huff, trying not to glance at the little typing bubble that appears under your fingers. Signaling that Chan is in the middle of replying to you. He wants to continue your stupid little conversation. Your heart does a funny little wiggle at the sight. “I’ll take what you said into consideration, I guess.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Felix was probably right, and that was such a complicated thought to have while Chan’s hand was currently palming you through your shirt.

See, it really had started out with grabbing coffee together. Something extremely casual with no pressure, the conversation just a little awkward at the start. Both of you trying to remember how to be civil towards each other, how to smile and laugh at jokes. It came a lot easier to Chan, as always. But you missed this. You missed being in the same space as him and hearing his voice and fucking hell, Felix was right; you’re so incredibly weak.

You tried so hard to keep things on track, really you did. The possibility of being friends was right there, laid out in front of you. But then Chan smiled- that small little smile where he ducks his head and bites at his lip and looks up at you from under those fucking eyelashes of his, and oh. You were gone.

He makes it almost disgustingly easy to be around him. It makes your head buzz.

Somehow the touch of your fingers against the inside of his wrist lead you to his apartment. Where he pins you to the wall and kisses you so deeply you can feel it in your toes. You almost forgot what it felt like when Chan put his full strength into holding you in place. It’s heady.

He still tastes the same. Somehow, in the midst of his hands gripping and tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush together, that’s the thought that floats its way to the forefront. Chan tastes the same, even after all this time where you never got to taste him. He feels the same too, a little wider, mostly in his shoulders, but still familiar. He makes the same little noise in the back of his throat when you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s all so familiar and you could choke on it.

You should probably talk about this. The making out, yes, absolutely, but also the last few months and the texts and him asking to see you out of the blue. It should be talked about, right? Except what would you even say? You’ll just rehash the same things you’ve been saying. You felt ignored and he felt suffocated and you could never find a way to meet in the middle because you’re both stubborn.

You should say something though, right? Right?

The press of his hand against the dip of your waist, pulling you closer, has you losing any semblance of what language even is. Words? Who needs them? He’s hooking his other hand behind your knee and hiking it up, guiding you to wrap your leg around him, and really all you can think about is how you aren’t close enough.

You sneak your fingers up under the hem of his shirt, feeling the expanse of his skin, and the sound of the breathiest gasp leaving his lips settles along the curve of your spine.

This doesn’t feel like a particularly good idea, but then he’s grinding against you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh, and it doesn’t really matter all that much.

��Is this a terrible idea?” He asks, practically breathing the words directly into your mouth, and you find it a little funny. Not only are you both having the same sort of thought, but it feels incredibly belated.

“Honestly Chris? I don’t really give a fuck.”

That gets him to laugh. Just the quietest little giggle into the skin of your jaw. His hand moves, until he’s grabbing at your ass and angling your hips higher, and it’s really such an inspired thing. The feeling of him, hard through his denim, pressing into you has a moan tripping out of you.

You definitely need to talk about this.

Chan keeps touching you, kissing you, undressing you. Little by little, constantly asking 'is this ok? Yeah? We can stop whenever you want-' because he's still a gentleman. You haven't been this close to him in months, but he's still so fucking considerate. It'd be more maddening if it wasn't so familiar. If anything it’s reassuring, filling you with a stupid amount of confidence. You know how to deal with this.

You repeat yes over and over, hands at his shoulders and licking the word into his mouth, no matter how much he asks.

He peels your shirt away, careful with the fabric, mouth already trailing down your neck, your chest, landing on the swell of your cleavage. Hands so wide, palms easily fitting to your bare waist.

"Just tell me to stop, and I will-"

Finally you snap. Like a live wire pulled too taut, reaching out to grab at his face. Pressing your fingers into the hollows of his cheeks, his chin resting in the curve of your palm. "Christopher, I'm so horny I feel like I might cry. So while I really appreciate what you're trying to do- if you don't rail me stupid in the next five minutes, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Oh, sorry." He blinks at you, a little slowly as he leans more of his weight into your hand. Your fingers dig into the meat of his face and you can feel something tense in his jaw.

"Don't apologize baby, just get on with it." This feels familiar too. Like slipping into a pair of beloved jeans. The fit so perfect.

His eyes light up in the next instant, sparkling and bright, and holy shit you're in for it now. "Say less, boss."

You don't know if you still love him, but you do know that you'll always love the feeling of his mouth on you. His hands. Leaving wet trails as he kisses your skin messily, sloppy. Clever fingers following in the wake of his tongue.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #echo writes #if I missed any warnings/tags just let me know!#anyway uhh please enjoy.#I do have plans for a part 2 but nothing concrete #we'll see if I want to continue this lol

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birb-papa · 4 months

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Oh, sorry, force of habit.

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatskygame #skykid #sky cotl art #skyblr #that sky game #sky children of light #sky game #cw: gore #tw blood #cw blood #tw: violence #cw #i apologize if I’ve missed any sensitive warning tags #please let me know If there’s any I should add

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missrosegold · 1 year

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always the fool with the slowest heart

I apologize for not being able to post all three chapters of ATF on here! All three parts are very long, and tumblr just can't support the length of them, so I've finally made a post to link all of them together! (I would break them up into parts like I did with and if my body should fade, i'll trust you with my soul, but it would be multiple parts for each chapter, and I try not to spam the desktops of my mutuals lol)

Once again: thank you to @candycandy00 for editing this monster for me, and thank you to miss. @kimkaelyn for making this beautiful banner for me! I love it so much!

Title: always the fool with the slowest heart

Rating: Explicit.

Paring: Merman!Dabi/Touya Todoroki/(Female) Reader

Synopsis: After a few particularly grueling years of working nonstop, you broke down and burnt yourself out. To escape the rat-race, you left for the island where your aunt and uncle live; back to the beach house you spent your summers at as a child. As you slowly work on building yourself back up, you start to realize some things on the island are not quite as you remember them to be.

Little did you know, there was a surprise waiting you in the shallows when you returned to the island nearly a decade after you last left.

Part I can be found here

Part II can be found here

Part III can be found here

All of my stories are cross posted on A03. If the formatting on here is hard to follow, feel free to check out my A03 account!

*See A03 for more descriptive tags/warnings. It's explicit for a reason.

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #merman!dabi #merman!au #mha dabi #mha #bnha #rose reblogs #i know i said to check out a03 for more descriptive tags but please let me know if there's anything specific you think should be tagged her #please let me know if i missed any tags!#please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings!

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deaconsleatherpants · 2 months

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The Sharpest Lives (Are the Deadliest to Lead)

Summary: Shelton's increasingly stringent rules for your safety had always struck you as infuriatingly excessive, but after a rival gang kidnaps you in an attempt to get to him, you're left anxious and traumatized from the experience. This, of course, is something Shelton can't let stand.

Fandom: Mega Time Squad (2018)

Rating: M (hurt/comfort: descriptions of a kidnapping, mildly explicit blood/violence, and descriptions of panic attacks)

Relationship: Shelton/Reader

Chapters: 1/1

Link

Reading List - ( @brughy @strange-birdy-me @gigabats @papyblook )

#my writing #mega time squad #this one is a little heavier so I of course understand if you need to give it a miss 🥺#also I know it's been forever since I wrote anything so if you'd no longer like to be on the tag list please just let me know! 😊#and of course if you'd like to be added to the list just let me know as well lol 🥺#something doesn't feel exactly the way I want it but I'm probably just rusty and overthinking it so here you go 🥴🫠 I hope you enjoy! ❤️#and please do let me know if there are any other warnings I need to tag!

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savventeen · 1 year

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places we've been torn (i'm always, always yours)

pairing: soonyoung x gn!reader rating: T wc: ~1k summary: you and soonyoung have been lying together for who-knows how long now, going back and forth asking each other about the various scars you both have. the stories have been mostly silly or stupid (or both), but it's as the night is winding down that soonyoung asks about the one scar with a story you're not sure you're ready to share. warnings: scars, mentions of suicide, past near-attempted suicide (reader) tags: fluff and angst, angsty fluff, reader is in a good place now but there was a time when they weren't, and soonyoung has to take some time to process that fact, i think this is still very soft??? despite the subject matter, but please please please be careful friends a/n: this is for @diamondyjh as part of my emergency commissions and she requested angst to fluff (tho this turned into more angsty fluff than angst to fluff, but i hope you still like it) and the title is from always by switchfoot

You're not sure the last time you felt so content.

At the moment, you and Soonyoung are curled up on his bed over the covers, feet tangled together and heads sharing the same pillow. The past few hours you've spent just laying there and talking, mostly asking about each other's scars but drifting off to other topics as well. For the past ten minutes or so, it's been quiet, the two of you simply enjoying each other's company.

Everything about this moment is warm — from the way his hands hold one of yours and press a kiss to your palm to the way your heart feels like it's melting in your chest and spreading all the way to the tips of your toes.

"What about this one," he murmurs into the silence, rubbing his thumb slowly over the soft skin of your wrist. "It's so tiny; I never noticed it before."

And the scar in question is tiny, smaller than a grain of rice, nestled right in the center of your wrist.

The story behind it, though, is so much bigger.

For the first time all night, your first instinct is to lie — to make something up and brush it off and clutch at the secret you've kept tucked away in your chest for so, so long. Excuses like oh, it's no big deal - it's nothing - I don't even remember all sit ready on the tip of your tongue. But you bite them back.

You stare at Soonyoung, marveling at how soft he looks in the warm lamplight — trusting the small but fervent corner of your quickly-beating heart begging you to be completely honest for once in your life, whispering that you can trust him with this.

He keeps tracing his thumb in gentle arcs across your skin, and you breathe in — slow — breathe out — steady.

“It’s from a knife,” you say at last, calm, and not at all like this is the first time in the ten years since it happened that you’ve told anyone. A buzzing has started under your skin, anxiety humming through your veins at a frequency you’re sure Soonyoung must be able to hear.

But he just wrinkles his brow in adorable confusion, lower lip jutting out just enough to form a soft, worried pout. “A knife?”

“Yeah.”

You can trust him with this.

You gulp and bite the bullet. “I was sixteen and... and I came really close to killing myself.”

A beat, and the world stops.

Your breath feels trapped in your lungs as you watch him blink, his thumb freezing as he processes your words. And for a moment, his face is blank.

But Soonyoung has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and you can easily read the emotions that start flashing across his face. First, a silent shock that bleeds into disbelief. His eyes find yours, searching, searching, yearning to find a falsehood somewhere in your words — a soft kind of horror dawning like a rain-soaked morning as realization sets in.

His grip on your wrist tightens, fear and worry evident in the way he takes a deep, steadying breath, and he pulls your hand to his chest and clutches it there, almost desperately. His other hand reaches out to cradle your face, stroking reverently, even as his exhale is shaky. It doesn't seem to be enough, though, because a moment later, he's scooting forward the foot of space between you and bringing your forehead to his. You lay like that for a moment, two, and then he's pulling you closer still, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder so that he can wrap his arms around you and squeeze.

You squeeze back, telling him with everything but your words that I'm not gone, I'm still here. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. You let yourselves have this moment, burying yourself into his embrace as he holds you like you'll disappear if he lets go.

"I'm okay, Youngie," you murmur eventually.

His fingers curl into the back of your shirt. "But you weren't." His voice is a whisper, thick with the threat of tears. "You weren't okay."

You sigh, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of his head and gently scratch at his scalp. "No. No, I wasn't then. But that was a long time ago, now."

Between one blink and the next, he's pulling out of the embrace just enough to be able to cradle your face between his palms. He's staring at you with red-rimmed eyes, and you feel something crack in your chest.

"You'll tell me, right?" he asks. "If you're ever not okay again? You'll tell me, or someone, or—" He huffs a frustrated breath before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. For a moment that feels like your own eternity, he lingers there, lips against your skin — an invisible tattoo pressed into every thought floating around in your head. "Please promise me you'll tell someone, jagi."

"I will." You seal your vow with a kiss of your own pressed to his lips. "I promise."

And he must hear the truth of your words because you can feel the tension bleed out of him like he's a deflating balloon, and you deflate right along with him. You press another kiss to his lips, soft and chaste and full of all the reassurance you have.

"Hey, Youngie." You wait until he's looking at you, and then you let all of the warm, gooey feelings of hope and love and life bubble over into a beaming grin. "I love you, and I'm so happy that I'm here with you."

The smile he gives back could rival the sun's, you think.

~~~

Suicide Hotlines in the US call or text 988 Spanish toll-free number 1-888-628-9454 Trevor Project/LGBTQIA+: text 678-678 or call 1-866-488-7386

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magicmarkerz · 10 months

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we're so fucking back (wip)

#PLEASE let me know if i missed any tags #tw gore #gore #flash warning #fw #flashing lights #nbc hannibal #animatic #will graham #abigail hobbs #sparkbird #aspen's silly goofy doodles #disturbing imagery #tw blood

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cubicpeebles · 1 year

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city streets

#gif #gif warning #flashing #flashing image #eyestrain #flashing images #flashing image tw #okay i think that is all the warning tags i need #anyway #moth character #moth oc #moth #original character #oc #please let me know if i missed any important tags

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petalpatches · 2 years

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I made a short edit for 03! I’ve been really wanting to make one for a long time so this was super fun 😊

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fma 03 #if you know this song and you know the words…. no you don’t #I edited the words out so DONT #instead of following any narrative I wanted to focus on cool visual aspects of the show!#I wanted to showcase all the cool ACTION SHOTS #so no plot just cool animation #I will tag as spoilers though just bc there are some #fma 03 spoilers #fullmetal alchemist spoilers #cw blood #cw gore #cw knives #cw high pitch #cw fast imagery #cw constant pitch #I just want to be overly safe 😭 if I’ve missed something please let me know!!#flashing image warning #I’ve been wanting to make an edit to this song for awhile now so I’m glad I finally had the chance to!!#anime edit #amv #fma amv #edward elric #alphonse elric #if you haven’t seen 03 yet go watch 03 :>#as a reward for getting this far in the tags I’ll let you know what song I used!!#bc I don’t want to be vague LOL #it’s the opening theme for the dragon ball z specials like bardock and future trunks backstory. it’s such a BOP

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endlessthxxghts · 1 month

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Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.”

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals.

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is.

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach.

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.”

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray.

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips.

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated.

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure.

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?”

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously.

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down.

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn.

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age.

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew.

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready.

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up.

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win.

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm.

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth.

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think.

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest.

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.”

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat.

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside.

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it.

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round.

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum.

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold.

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you.

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking.

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?”

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep.

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched.

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then.

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do.

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks.

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down.

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process.

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-”

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed.

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go.

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan.

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell.

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend.

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man.

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.”

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs.

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself.

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough.

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud.

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south—

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.”

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by.

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time.

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?”

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified.

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.”

Fuck.

“Why?” He asks defensively.

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.”

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action.

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy.

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides.

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion.

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot.

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice.

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit.

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response.

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze.

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now.

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted.

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret.

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-”

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest.

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions.

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip.

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.”

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features.

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder.

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips.

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection.

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest.

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins.

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking.

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt.

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling.

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else.

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often.

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears.

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon.

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much.

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge.

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure.

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down.

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet?

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing.

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?”

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?”

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?”

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?”

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?”

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display.

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you.

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen.

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face.

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?”

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later.

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself.

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue.

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.”

He looks at you incredulously.

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.”

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

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always-just-red · 2 months

Note

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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sinsofsummers · 1 month

Text

cupcake

1.9k | teacher!logan x fem!student!reader

(gif not mine!!)

summary: logan eats you for lunch. warnings: porn! teacher!logan and student!reader, so a bit of a taboo age gap, but an established situationship. oral (f receiving), desperate logan—like he is A LEWSER, p in v, creampie because he doesn’t last long (because he’s a whore), logan is a slut for ur releases mixed together, sub!logan tbh, let me know if i miss any! note: wow. sorry. this was also supposed to be a night of writing a longer fic. but i think this is my brand! short and sweet and salacious little things! enjoy, my loves! also i'm tagging @cavillscurls , @bren-lee-bear0404 , @ieatgoldfishy and @hughverine for this one cause...it just seemed like u guys were extra eager for it hehehe!

You can sense him behind you as you make your way down the corridor, heading for your room. You’ve just gotten out of an exam, and as the relaxation-lover you are, you’re thinking of one thing and one thing only—your bed, and curling up in it.

But just like Logan can sense you at all times, you’re no stranger to the feeling of being under his watchful gaze. It’s a heady feeling, and even though you can’t see him, you know that if you turn around he’ll be just a few paces behind you.

And maybe you shouldn’t have gotten under your history teacher in an attempt to get over him, but by now it’s far too late. Logan has all but ruined everyone for you, anyway, a fact that you’re sure he would put on a billboard if you’d let him.

You put your head down and pretend to ignore the sound of his footsteps getting faster.

You smirk. Thankfully the hallway is empty, or you’d have to answer for why your history teacher is chasing you down.

He’s not exactly discreet; or at least, not when you’re in the same room as him. Whether it’s his intense brown eyes staring you down like a challenge, or his hands somehow finding their way to your shoulders, or your hands, trying to look innocent enough…you’re pretty sure Logan’s made it obvious.

“Hey.”

There he is.

You pause, about to turn the corner, but he swings a hand around your arm and makes you whirl around to face him. His eyes are hard, but there’s a spark of mischief that has you flashing a tight-lipped smirk back in his face, blinking slowly.

“Yes, Professor?” you cross your arms, holding the textbooks in your hands to your chest. “Did I miss an assignment?”

Logan’s mouth twitches into an amused grin, and he tilts his head. “C’mere,” he says gently, and tugs you toward the nearest classroom—his own.

You’ve had your fair share of classes here, but you blush as he closes the door and sidles up behind you, his broad, heavy chest pressing against your back.

“Where’ve you been, sugar?” His voice is smooth, low, and reeks of sex. You know exactly why you’re here.

Your throat goes dry, but you swallow and turn around, taking a step back. With a wink, you keep your hands clutched to your textbook. “I’ve been working.”

You’re goading him. “If you hadn’t noticed, I still need to study for my exams,” you say nonchalantly, and watch as he confidently strides forward, following you up to the front of the room.

In no time at all, his desk hits the backs of your thighs, stopping you from your retreat. Logan’s only a step away from you and capitalizes on it. You’ve got no room to squirm away; he towers over you and puts his hands on his desk, trapping you there.

“Time for a break, I think,” he hums, nipping at your jaw when you chuckle and turn away from his attempt to kiss you. “You’ve been working that brain so hard,” he continues, tugging the textbook out of your hands and tossing it to the floor with a heavy thud. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still pleased at the admission. You take it upon yourself to hop up on the desk, though it doesn’t give you much more leverage; he’s still got the upper…everything. “Oh, you have?”

Logan lifts a hand to cup your jaw and neck, bringing your face closer to him. His hand is rough but the guidance of his touch is gentle, and he rests his forehead against yours. His next words are a whisper. “I have,” he nods. “You look so sweet, sugar. Can’t you just take a break?”

Your stomach turns in a familiar knot, and your thighs tense. It’s not that you haven’t fooled around on his desk before. But you really do have exams to study for.

“I know,” you sigh, turning to press a series of kisses to his beard. “I know, I want to be done, too. But I—”

“Then be done,” he whispers, his other hand landing on your thigh. “You’ll pass all your exams, bub, you know you will. Such a smart girl,” he says as his hand creeps toward the inside of your leg. “Why don’t you let me do something for you, smart girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek, but it does nothing to hide your smile. “Logan,” you whine, trying your best to sound exasperated. “I can’t just drop my panties for you everytime you want.”

His hand has wandered to the waistline of your shorts; an elastic band is all that bars him from your thin panties.

“Of course,” he says, and then his eyes dart down to the crux of your legs as he hooks a finger in your waistband, tugging it away from your body. “But you sure do leave them sopping wet, don’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Well, if they weren’t before, they are now.

Your jaw drops open an inch, and for a moment you don’t know what to say.

Another finger hooks into your waistband, and he swipes his fingertips across your lower stomach, not daring to go any further until you give him the go ahead. “Please, sugar,” he whispers, and his voice shakes as he tilts your head up, holding his lips just an inch from your own.

“I’ll be quick. I won’t even tease, baby,” he says, his hot breath fanning over your face, that delicious hint of tobacco making you flutter your eyes closed.

“Logan…” you try again, but he ducks his head into your neck and whimpers. Whimpers.

“I’ll be good and quick, bub,” he says again. “Just let me taste you. I won’t ask for anything else, I swear.”

“Yeah right,” you say breathlessly, your composure slipping. “You always want more.”

“Can’t help it,” he breathes heavily, and his hand clenches your shorts in a fist. “M’gonna go insane if I can’t taste you, cupcake.”

You’ve never seen him this desperate, this much of a loser for your pussy, that you choke out a sigh and push his hand down your stomach. His eyes go wide and his mouth stutters as his fingers reach your mound, shoulders shuddering at the velvety smooth touch of your core.

“Fine,” you say quietly, a smile growing on your face. “But just for a minute.”

“Minute’s all I need, sugar.” Logan doesn’t waste his time, molding his lips to yours with a deep groan that borders on the side of a growl, something that ignites a fire in your gut.

In a flash, he’s practically torn your shorts from your body and he’s getting on his knees, eyes flitting up to yours as he leans into your core. The flush of cool air on your lower half is almost relieving.

He pauses, closing his eyes right as he’s about to dive in. And he sucks in a breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of your arousal. It’s like a fucking ritual for him. Like a monk bent to pray, he worships the source of your sweetness.

You shake your head, carding your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a freak,” you breathe, but the humor leaves your voice as he darts his tongue out to flick your clit.

And with your hands in his hair, he growls into your pussy and laps at it like a starving man, swirling circles around your clit and wasting no time before his fingers are teasing your entrance.

“God,” you gasp, squeezing your thighs around his head.

He lifts his head, and you wish you could take a picture of how fucking desperate he looks, with his beard already glistening with your wetness and his eyes wide as a puppy’s. “Not God,” he huffs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Just me, bub.”

“Shut the fuck up and make me come,” you sigh, tilting your head back and letting out a soft giggle. “Your minute’s almost up.”

Of course, you don’t have any plans on cutting him off. Once he gets his tongue on your core, you won’t be satisfied until he’s filling you to the brim.

He moans with every drop that slips out of you and lands on his tongue, which only makes your pussy weep more for him. “Come on, baby,” he says into you, his fingers slipping inside you and stretching you deliciously over his thick digits. “Come on daddy’s face.”

He has the gall to ask you to call him daddy? When he just spent the last ten minutes begging to get on his knees for you?

You almost laugh, but then his fingers curl inside you. He’s hitting that one spongy spot that has you arching your back, your eyes rolling back and your hand pressing down on his head, holding him to your core as you ride out your release. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine, rolling your hips into his mouth to make the ecstasy last longer.

He pulls away from you, and you can’t even lift your head before you hear the clink of his belt hitting the floor. His face comes into view, and then his tip is sliding against your slit, throwing you into a frenzy as your legs shake at the sensitivity.

“I’m sorry, sugar,” he says, voice hoarse as he circles your clit with his angry, leaking tip. “I’m close already, I just wanna…”

“You wanna fill me up,” you finish breathlessly, head resting against his desk.

“Yes,” he whimpers, and you swear you could come again at the sound of it. “Please, cupcake.”

You nod, a string of yes please falling from your lips. And not a moment later, he’s shoving himself inside, and suddenly you realize how empty you’d felt all day before this moment, before his thick cock was making room for itself in your body.

He doesn’t look like he’ll last long enough to give you another orgasm, but you don’t really care; he looks so fucking pretty like this that it’ll be enough to fuel an entire night of play when you’re on your own.

With a guttural groan and a few uneven thrusts, Logan bursts. The swing sound of metal claws unsheathing themselves is like a drug as he empties himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, cupcake,” he shudders, laying himself over you on the desk. “M’sorry I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” you wrap an arm around his shoulders, savoring the feeling of his dick still pulsing inside you. “I like it when you’re so…”

You trail off. Nothing can quite describe the essence of Logan when he’s begging to eat you out. But there’s something so undeniably filthy about someone like Logan—your rugged, perfect Professor Logan—shedding his grumpy exterior for a taste of you.

The two of you lay there for a few more moments before he straightens, pulling you to a sitting position. He slowly pulls out, catching his seed and pushing it gently back inside you as best he can.

You hum at the sight, and finally stand, pulling your wrecked shorts back onto your hips. “How are you gonna explain that?” You point at the small puddle of your releases, mixed together.

His hair is still messy, his fingers still shining with your arousal, but he winks. Claws retracted, he swipes a finger through the mess and puts it to his lips, drinking down the result of your pleasure.

“Frosting,” he grins, and the return of the cocksure professor you know so well has returned. He presses a kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear. “From the sweetest of cupcakes.”

#logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett x reader #logan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #logan xmen #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #deadpool and wolverine

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missrosegold · 1 year

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and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part II

Part I can be found here

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

Thank you once again to the lovely @candycandy00 for editing this for me, and another massive thank you to miss @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! (I love it so much!)

You sigh to yourself as you check medical supplies in your village’s apothecary, making a mental note to tell the healer you’re training under that you’re running low on Feverfew and Echinacea.

Fall has arrived in full swing. The dense forest that surrounds your town has changed its leaves from vibrant green to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It’s beautiful, but you’ve never been much of a fall person. You know what comes next. The autumn months mean winter is close behind, and you’ve never liked the cold. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that this upcoming winter is going to be a particularly bad one.

You shake your head and return to your task at hand, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as you continue to take stock of the medical inventory.

After the mysterious disappearance of your betrothed, your parents didn’t try to engage you to anyone else, and you can’t help but feel relieved. Marrying one of the men from your village was never in the cards for you, a fact that you made very clear to them after your formal betrothal’s disappearance. You weren’t interested in marriage or raising a family of your own. Not right now, possibly not ever.

In the end, you decided to train under your village’s healer – a kind old woman named Chiyo, who’s been the town healer for longer than you’ve been alive – as a means of getting out from under your parents.

Despite word of your betrothal’s mysterious disappearance quickly spreading throughout your village, there had been some other potential suitors that had come to you after you had started training at the apothecary. While none of them were rude or malicious, you always turned them down with a gentle smile before sending them on their way.

Besides, none of them held your heart the way a certain pyromancer did.

You haven’t seen Touya for a few months now, not since the disappearance of your betrothed. You’re not completely sure what happened after Touya found him – you’re not sure if you want to know, even though you have a pretty good idea of what happened if the fresh burns he had come back with had anything to say about it. You know better than to ask though, knowing full well that Touya will never tell you the full truth, even if you already know without him having to say it.

You sometimes wonder if there’s anything left of the blacksmith’s son.

You know that you should feel shocked, horrified even, that your pyromancer was capable of doing such an atrocious thing. But all you feel when you think about it, is a strange sense of relief.

You wonder if that makes you a bad person.

Inwardly, you know it probably should, especially when the blacksmith came looking for his son not long after his disappearance. When he had asked you if you knew anything about why his son had seemingly taken off without so much as a word to anyone, you had said no, of course, because what else could you have said to him? It’s not like anyone aside from you could see Touya to begin with, and there no way to explain to the blacksmith the fate that had most likely befallen his son.

Regardless, all you knew was that you’d never see him again. Touya had made sure of that.

There are still search parties that go out every once in a while, looking for him and a part of you wants to tell them that it’s a waste of time, that he’s nowhere to be found, but you won’t. It’s yours and Touya’s dirty secret to share now, and it will stay that way until you take your dying breath.

You suppress a sigh as you take a break from checking inventory, and your thoughts wander back to Touya of their own accord. He had warned you that he wouldn’t be back for some time after he had brought you home – he had serious business to take care of in the eastern part of the country, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. You hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Your heart clenches when you think of him. You’re not sure what you are anymore. You told him that you loved him, and even though he didn’t say it back to you, you’re certain that he loves you too.

“You know why.” Those words have echoed in your head since he said them to you. You’ve known that the two of you have been bordering on the cusp of something for a while now, and that solidifies it.

You promise yourself that the next time he comes to see you, you’ll ask him what you are to him. What this is.

Eventually, Chiyo dismisses you in the midafternoon, and you find yourself taking the lonely path up towards Dabi’s temple. You’ve started going there a lot more in Touya’s absence. Ever since you kissed the white-haired pyromancer in Dabi’s temple, you had started making a habit of coming back to the derelict temple, in an effort to clean it up a little.

For some reason, Touya seems to have a fondness for the place, and you’re starting to understand why. Despite its outward appearance and dust covered insides, you’ve never once felt unwelcome in the temple itself. It’s calm and quiet, and the more you visit the abandoned shrine, you realize it’s really a shame that it was abandoned by the priests, because it was probably quite beautiful back in the day.

With that thought, you had decided to take it upon yourself to try and restore the temple back to its original glory.

When you had brought up what you wanted to clean Dabi’s shrine to the priests at Hawks’s temple, you had been met with disbelieving looks, as the temple itself had sat vacant for well over a century. But once you had assured them that you weren’t there to cause trouble, and that you only wanted to clean it up a little, they had relented, and even gave you cleaning supplies, telling you that if you needed help, all you needed to do was come and get them.

You had laughed to yourself as you took the cleaning supplies back with you to the temple. The only reason why you had gone to them in the first place was to tell them what you planned to do, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Hawks’s temple was the closest to Dabi’s, and you’d end up walking past it to get to the secluded shrine more often than not. The last thing you needed was them assuming that you were doing something strange, when it was the exact opposite.

You soon found yourself in front of the large double doors once more, but unlike the first time you had entered the temple, you didn’t hesitate to let yourself in this time, shutting them softly behind you. You set your shawl down by the entrance and take off your shoes to avoid tracking any dirt in from the outside. You breathe in deeply as the faint smell of incense hits your nose, looking around the large room with a content smile on your face.

It’s not perfect, but its far better than what it was previously. You’ve washed and cleaned the floors and walls, sweeping out almost a century’s worth of dust and other debris. You’ve scraped the ancient remains of melted candle wax off the alter in front of Dabi’s statue, and replaced the melted down prayer candles with new ones. You brought in some pillows and plush rugs from home that your mother was about to throw out, not wanting them to go to waste, and also wanting to make the temple more homey, in case anyone aside from yourself wanted to visit. You keep incense burning constantly to get rid of the musty smell that has always lingered around the temple, and it finally seems to be working. Lastly, with the help of two priests from Hawks’s temple, you were finally able to fix that damn hole in the ceiling above the statue of the Cremation God.

Now you’re at the temple to do one last thing: clean the giant marble statue of the Death God himself. You didn’t see much of a point cleaning it before the hole got fixed, but thankfully, the sculpture doesn’t seem to be very dirty. Still, you want to go over it, and wash down what you can reach – it’s only polite after all.

Besides, after what you learned about him from Touya, you figure that it’s not a bad idea to stay in the illusive god’s good graces--

“Hello Princess.”

You jump at the sound of a familiar smoky rasp, and whirl around, only to see Touya standing a few feet behind you, a smirk plastered across his dis-coloured lips.

“Touya! When did you get here? I thought you said you didn’t know when you were going to be back! Did you finish with whatever you were doing in the East early?” you gasp delightedly, as the tall man strides towards you. He shakes his head.

“No, the situation there is a bit more… serious then I originally thought. I’m probably going to be there for a while yet, but I had some time, and I wanted to see you.” He stops directly in front of you, and his smirk becomes softer. “How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been… keeping busy.” You tell him, lacing your hands together in front of you. “I’ve started working at the village apothecary. Chiyo runs a tight ship, but I’m learning a lot from her and she’s good to me.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Well… they weren’t pleased, but that’s more to do with me telling them that I won’t be courting anyone anytime soon. I told them I wasn’t interested, nor will I ever be. My mother isn’t happy, but at least she hasn’t forced me into any other engagements… not after what happened before you left.” You tell him honestly, and Touya only nods, his expression not giving anything away.

“Glad they’ve finally taken the hint. What else have you gotten up to, pretty girl?”

“Take a look around, you tell me.” You tell him with a tiny smile. You watch his brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks around the room, only for his eyes to widen, like he’s seeing the temple for the first time.

You watch as he investigates the plush rugs and pillows you have scattered around the base of the alter, how he takes in the sight of fresh prayer candles lit at the bottom of the statue – how clean and bright and warm you’ve managed to make it, since you were both here last. He seems overwhelmed, like he’s at a loss for words.

“I did it for you.” You admit softly, feeling your face heat up with your admission.

“You did this… for me?” he asks slowly, not looking at you, as he takes in everything that you’ve done. You smile softly at him even though he can’t see it.

“You seem to be pretty fond of this place, and you know so much about its history, I thought that maybe I could fix it up a little so I could have something to show you when you came back.” That gets his attention, and he fixes his azure eyes on you, locking you in place.

“You did this for me.”

“I… yes… Do you not like it?” you sputter, suddenly worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“No, Gods no. You did this for me.” He says breathlessly. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.” He closes the remaining space between you, and his obscenely warm hands find your waist, while yours automatically come rest on his chest. “God’s you did this for me.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Touya? I don’t understand--?”

The words die on your lips as Touya surges forwards and presses his rough lips to yours. You feel the grip he has on your waist turn bruising, as he kisses you hard and deep, bordering on desperate.

“I love you.” He tells you, pulling away momentarily to bring one hand up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. You were the first person to see me in so long – I knew you were different, I knew you were for me, and then you did this-“

He smashes his lips back onto yours, and you wrap your hands around his neck. Normally, you’d be mindful of his burns, but you’re so engrossed in his feverish kisses that you squeeze him tightly, and feel him moan into your mouth in response. He pulls back slightly for air, and pants heavily against you.

“Let me have you.” He growls against your lips. “Right here, right now. Gods help me I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you. I need you.”

“Okay, I—okay—yes.” You hear yourself gasping, and suddenly you’re swept off your feet. You feel your back hit something soft. Turning your head slightly to the side, you realize that Touya has placed you down onto a small pile of pillows. The realization of what you’re about to do hits you full force, but you don’t feel scared. You want this, you want him. You’ve wanted him for a long time.

Touya looms over you, caging you in, and runs the back of a heavily scared hand over your cheek. You shiver from the sensation of his feverishly hot skin and the cooler tones of the staples in his hand running over your skin. He gives you a wicked smile, as he sits back on his haunches, and starts to push your skirts up, revealing your bare legs.

You lurch up and grab his hands, forcing him to pause. He chuckles low in his throat at your actions, and pries your hands off of his own, placing a kiss on the back of one as his azure blue eyes meets your flushed face. “Relax my love. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s just- I mean, I’ve never done this before. I’m-“

“I know.” Touya damn near purrs, and you feel heat pool in your belly. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

You nod shakily and lower yourself back down onto the pillows, as Touya hikes your skirts up, revealing your legs and bottoms. He groans deeply as he kneads the plush of your thighs. “Fuck Princess, you’re perfect. Just like I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about me?” For some reason, his words of endearment strike a chord with you.

“Of course.” Touya murmurs, coming up to kiss you briefly, before taking your hand in one of his own. “Whenever I’m away, or I’m in the middle of a mission – alone and lonely – I think of you.”

He brings your hand down to his crotch, and sure enough, you feel a bulge underneath his pants. “See what you do to me?” he growls as he releases your hand so that he can work on shimmying your panties down your legs. You go to move your hand away, but he fixes you with a stern look. “Keep it there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

You nod as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and leans back slightly to pull them down your legs, almost ripping them off in his haste. As soon as the offending material is gone, Touya gently wraps his hands around you knees and pulls them up so your feet are planted on the ground, before nestling his way back in between them, not taking his eyes off of the junction in between your legs.

“Gods.” He whispers. “Fuck.”

You feel him throb in the thick canvases of his pants as he runs a finger through your folds, causing you to shudder and clench around nothing. “God love, you’re fucking soaked.” Touya hisses, as he pushes your hand away from his hardness and rips his cloak over his head, revealing his bare chest to you.

In all the years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him this exposed. His chest is a patchwork of scars and staples just like his arms and face. Most of the skin is dead and badly burnt, but you do see some spots where there are still glimpses of healthy skin amongst the mess of purpled burns. Just like you suspected, his body is lean but ripped with corded muscles that bunch and flex with his every move. He looks like he was built by a god – a god with a twisted sense of humor – but you could care less. You think he’s perfect.

“You’re beautiful.” You tell him honestly – not wanting him to think you were focusing only on his burns – and he looks almost bashful at your words, letting a small chuckle escape him as he gently picks up one of your hands to press a quick kiss on the back of your knuckles.

“Look who’s talking.” He fires back at you, as he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips apart. It should be embarrassing how wet you are from a little teasing, but Touya looks absolutely enthralled.

“Is all this for me?” he muses to himself softly. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he bends down and swipes his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan loudly and try to slam your legs closed on impulse, but Touya is faster – forcing them to stay open with a hand on each inner thigh as he continues to lap at your pussy.

You whimper involuntarily from the ministrations, and Touya squeezes your thighs as he comes back up. “I know, I know love. I can’t wait any longer either. Goddamn-“ he almost snarls; his hands immediately going to his belt, as he unfastens it and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is letting someone like me do this to them.” he mutters as he pushes his pants down to just past mid-thigh, allowing his dick to spring free – and through you’ve never seen a man’s cock until now – you’re certain that it’s the prettiest one that you’ll ever see.

It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards. It’s as pale as the undamaged parts of his skin and you think it looks quite lovely. You’re a little nervous about the size of it, but Touya doesn’t allow you to look at it for long, before he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

You swallow thickly as you feel how big and hot the head is pressed up against your tight entrance, and Touya must sense your hesitation, because he drapes himself over you, supporting himself on his hands, as he takes both your hands in one of his own, and gently pins them above your head, stooping down to kiss you once more.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips hotly. “I’ll make you feel so good. Just lie back and breathe for me, my love.”

And with that, he slowly pushes himself in.

The stretch is delicious and you know that he’s ruined you for any other potential man. But there’s never been anyone else, has there? From the moment you officially met, it’s always been him. It will only ever be him.

Touya is cursing above you, but you can’t hear him – too lost in your own pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s picking up a steady rhythm, his hips hitting against yours with a wet smack. You’re so wet from his earlier teasing that he glides in and out with little resistance, and you feel your legs starting to shake from the waves of pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“Gods, how are you so tight?” Touya groans as he leans down to capture your lips with his. You kiss him back eagerly, wishing that your hands were free so you could wrap them around his neck, but he only tightens his grip on them when he feels you start to resist against his hold. He pulls back after a moment to take in your pretty face and glassy eyes, his hips not slowing down, as they continue to rut into yours.

“You’re mine.” He snarls hotly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“You’re mine- fuck it, you’re mine, no one else’s.” He sucks another mark onto the other side of your neck, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, as something in your lower stomach snaps – the wet sounds of your union becoming louder as you cum around his cock. Touya’s hips falter for a fraction of a second as he registers what happened, before he the last shred of restraint he had snaps, and starts pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring your sobs as he stimulates your already oversensitive insides.

“When you told me… that they had engaged you to that bastard-” He hisses lowly in your ear, as you continue to sob. “-I almost burnt your damn village to the ground. How dare they try to take what’s mine?”

A dark look enters his blue irises. “I wanted to fuck you right here in this temple afterwards – send a message to your parents and anyone else who thought they could have you, that you were spoken for.”

“Touya- I’m-“ you barely manage to choke out in between sobs. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his words. You feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm quickly approaching, and you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel so good with the way he’s now mercilessly drilling into your insides. You had talked with your married friends about sex before, that was a given, but even they didn’t describe it as feeling this good.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll give you everything.”

“You!” You manage to scream out, voice cracking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you. “It’s you! I’ve always belonged to you—you alone! I’ve only ever loved—Oh GODS!” you wail as you cum around his length again. The glint in Touya’s eyes become frantic and his hips stutter as you spasm violently around him. He finally let’s go of your wrists, in favour of grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you down onto him and meet his powerful thrusts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes. “Fuck love; I’m going to fill you full of me. Let the whole world – the gods – all of them, know you belong to me-“

You keen at his words, and he manages to grind out a breathy, “Shit-“ as he spills himself inside you, swooping down to capture your lips with his rough ones again, as he fucks his cum into you. You’re so blissed out, all you can do is wrap your arms tightly around his leathery neck, until his hips still; still buried deep inside of you.

Eventually you break the kiss, but Touya makes no move to get off of you. He moves his hands up from your hips, so he can take some of his weight off you, and rests his head on your collarbone, as he struggles to calm his palpating heart. You wriggle your hips and Touya grimaces, mouthing over one of the marks he sucked onto your neck.

“Wait.” He mumbles. “Give it a minute. It’s sensitive.” His comment pulls a laugh from you, and you feel him grin against your skin.

You stay joined like that until you feel his dick soften inside you, and Touya gently pulls out of you. You whimper at empty feeling, and close your legs as you feel a rush of fluid that you already know is a combination of both of your releases, leak out from in-between your legs. Touya smiles at your reaction, the staples in his face pulling slightly as he strokes the leg closest to him gently.

He rolls onto his back on the pillows beside you, and pulls you onto your side, so your head is on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart, and watch as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. It almost lulls you to sleep, but Touya suddenly speaks up after a moment, catching your attention.

“I am the only one allowed to see you like this.” He rumbles low in his throat, running a warm hand down your side, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. “No man, no one. You belong to me. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“But you’re going to leave me again.” You whisper, hating how you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You said so yourself: you have unfished business in the East still. Who knows when you’re coming back…Besides… No one can see you aside from me. How can I possibly explain this to anyone?”

“It’ll be different this time, I swear it.” Touya shushes you, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m going to be in the East for a while yet, but when I come back, I’m going to stay here with you, for a long time. No more disappearing acts for a while.”

You lift your head off his chest to stare at him in shock, to gage if he’s saying it to make you feel better, but you see nothing but honesty in his eyes. He touches your cheek. “I promise little one. I’ll make it work. I will stay with you. For as long as I can.”

You don’t mean to, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes and spill past your cheeks at his promise, as you place your head down on his scared chest and cry. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but Touya makes no effort to get up – simply holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as you weep.

It’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye to him every time he leaves. You feel like your heart is breaking inside of your ribcage, whenever he has to go. This time is no different, but it will certainly leave you feeling hollower than the other times that came before.

Eventually, once your tears have dried, you separate to get dressed and fix yourselves up. You’re straightening out your skirts as Touya tosses his dark traveling cloak back over his torso, obscuring his muscular chest from view. He must see you blushing, because he tosses you a grin over his shoulder at you, moving to grab your shoes and shawl for you from the front of the temple.

He kisses you as you wrap your shawl around yourself, and rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” He tells you, gesturing around the temple. “For doing this. It means more to me than you know.” You nod in response, and he intertwines your hands together as he leads you to the temple entrance and you exit together.

He kisses you deeply once more outside the temple. He has a pained expression on his face when he pulls away, and he looks like he wants to tell you something important, but something is holding him back. He’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand.

“I need you to promise me something while I’m gone.” He tells you seriously, and you nod, signaling for him to continue. He sucks in a sharp intake of breath.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of your health while I’m away. If someone comes to the apothecary with a strange sickness, or any signs of odd infections outside of a normal fever – I want you to go home and stay there.”

You furrow your brows, not understanding what he’s saying, but one look at his face tells you that he’s deadly serious and it’s not open for discussion.

You agree that you’ll be careful, and you’ll keep your eyes open for anything strange, and that seems to put him at ease. He kisses you once more before letting go of your hand, and slowly backs away from you. Once he’s a good distance away from you, he smiles sadly at you, before a raging torrent of blue flames engulf him once more, and he’s gone.

Life in the village goes on as normal for the next two months. The brightly coloured leaves that once decorated the trees surrounding your village have started to fall off the branches with large gusts of wind as winter draws closer.

You throw yourself into work at the apothecary, grateful for how busy it keeps you. You haven’t heard anything from Touya for a while now, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the East that has him so tied up. You haven’t heard any news from the Eastern part of the county in a long time, so if something big is going on, your town will probably be one of the last places to know. You don’t see much sense in worrying about it though, so you divide your time between visiting Dabi’s temple, and Chiyo’s teachings.

You’ve almost forgotten about Touya’s cryptic warning – until the stranger shows up in town one day. (Or rather, stumbled in – since he didn’t even make it three feet from the town’s entrance before collapsing in the streets, leading to several concerned townspeople finding him and bringing him to the apothecary for treatment)

He’s malnourished and sicker than you’ve ever seen anyone in your life. You and Chiyo spend days caring for him, with no results.

He dies one week after arriving in town, and is buried just outside of the village borders. An unfortunate tragedy, but you can’t save everyone. A harsh lesson that your mentor has drilled into you. You never even figured out what was afflicting him, though Chiyo think’s it may have been an advanced case of pneumonia.

At first, it was just him.

Then, another man got sick with symptoms eerily similar to what the stranger had.

Then it was two.

Then three.

Then twelve people in one day.

The number of infected only skyrocket from there.

Before you know it: there is an entire epidemic in your small town. Chiyo eventually figures out what it is, but by that point, eight people are dead and the number of people sick is quickly spiraling out of control.

Plague. The black plague of decay. Death.

Your parents beg you to come home, as they don’t want you around such a deadly sickness, and truthfully, you don’t want to be anywhere near it either – but you can’t leave Chiyo by herself. She’s the town’s only healer and she’s old. You know if something happens to her, the whole town is screwed, so you grit your teeth, mask up, and stay by her side.

For a while, things are going about as well as they can be. People are still dying at an alarming rate, but you and Chiyo somehow manage to stay healthy, and you keep trying to treat those who aren’t as sick the best you can with what you’ve got.

Then one day, you feel light-headed and nauseous out of the blue and you look down, only to notice an alarmingly dark black spot on your arm that you know wasn’t there the day before.

Everything goes downhill from there.

-----

Winter has arrived in your village full force, but you can’t see it. You haven’t seen anything outside of the four walls that make up your room for a while now.

You had caught the plague. The second you had shown Chiyo the black mark on your arm, she had immediately sent you away with some herbs crushed into a tablet for you to take to slow down the spread of the sickness.

Slow down being the key words. There was no cure for the decay plague. Once you had it, it was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time before it took your life.

Your parents had grabbed you and locked you in your room the moment they had seen you stumbling back from the apothecary. You hadn’t seen them face-to-face since. You only saw brief glimpses of them when they opened your door to slide food into your room on a tray, or when they came back to collect your dishes, though these days, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

They didn’t even have to let you back into the house once they saw the mark on your arm. But they still did without any hesitation. Despite knowing how ill you were going to become, they still insisted on taking care of you. You may not have agreed with their choices when it came to your personal life, but it was comforting to know that at the end of the day, your parents still loved you. Even if you went against everything they wanted for you.

A violent fit of coughing racks your frail body, and you automatically lift your arms to cover your mouth. When you pull your arm away, you cringe at the sight of red splattered across your forearm, before dropping it back down beside you on your bed with a muffled thud.

You can’t even look at your arms right now. Your skin, which used to be sun-kissed and clear, is now pale and speckled with ominous looking splotches of black, as the sickness makes its way through your body. You don’t even want to know what the rest of you looks like. You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror since you were confined to your room. You’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you see.

The room starts to spin around you and everything hurts. You close your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the jarring movement, but it does little to help you. Opening your eyes doesn’t make things better – your vison has become burry lately, and you can’t focus on anything anymore. Normally this would upset you, but you don’t have any strength left in you to care.

You know that you don’t have much time left. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you know your time is drawing closer. Based on the few times you’ve heard your mother – and on occasion, your normally stoic father – sob outside your door as they collect your untouched dishes, they know it too. You’ve held out longer than most people have, but you know that soon you’ll be making your way to the Underworld, it’s inevitable.

You only pray that all the visits you’ve made to Dabi’s temple over the last few months have paid off, and the Cremation God will be kind to you once he comes to collect you.

Dabi. His temple. Touya.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of your white-haired lover, as a single tear falls from your eye, and crashes onto your pillow, humble and silent.

You’re never going to see him again. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s true. As far as you know, he’s still in the East while you’re here, dying in your room. As tempted as you’ve been to use his name to call him to you one last time, you won’t.

Powers or not, you don’t want him to potentially end up with the plague too. Not to mention, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to remember you sick and frail as you are now. You’d rather have him remember you fondly: full of life and happy. There’s no need to put him through that kind of anguish.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wishing you could see him one last time-

Suddenly, your room feels unnaturally warm. It’s been very cold lately, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying that it makes your room feel colder than it should, but now your room is borderline sweltering.

You swear that you see a faint blue glow out of your blurry peripherals, followed by the tell-tale smell of something burning, before the glow dissipates into nothing. The intense heat remains and even though you can’t see very well, you know that someone is in the corner of your room.

“Who is it?” you manage to rasp out and you hear the stranger’s breath falter, as if they weren’t expecting you to be awake. The stranger takes three slow, purposeful strides until they are at your bedside, hovering over you. You blink hard, trying to see who the intruder is, but your vision must be getting worse, because all you can make out is a tall, white being above you.

You have no idea who, or what you’re looking at and are about to panic, until the figure bends slightly, and two familiar, warm, rough hands cradle your cheeks like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

Choked sobs rack your body despite how much the movement hurts you, because you know who’s by your side, even if you can’t make out his finer features. Your suspicions are confirmed the second you hear his low, gravelly voice.

“Beloved… what has happened to you?”

“Touya… is that you?” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tense under you. His thumbs swipe at your cheeks, even though you can’t seem to make any more tears to shed.

“I’m here beloved. I’m here now.” he rumbles quietly. He falls silent for a moment, then you hear him ask “ Why didn’t you call me to you?”

He sounds… sad… heartbroken even.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” you trail off, not knowing what else to say. Touya doesn’t seem to know either, but from the way he sighs, you think he’s holding back tears as well.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” There is no anger behind his words. Just defeat. You don’t think it’s directed at you though.

“I know.” You tell him, wishing desperately that you could lift your arms up enough to touch his face like he is doing yours. “It just happened so suddenly. There was a strange man who got sick, and then the next thing we knew, almost the whole town was plague-ridden. I couldn’t leave Chiyo by herself.”

“I know.” Touya sighs. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“I can’t see very well anymore… I think I’m dying very soon.” You admit softly. You manage to reach up to cover one of his hands with your cold one. “You shouldn’t be here… as much as I love seeing you one last time, you might catch the plague as well – I don’t want that for you.”

“The plague doesn’t affect me. Don’t worry yourself about it.” Touya murmurs gently, and you swear you faintly see something red and thick, roll down his face. He leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but suddenly your vision clears, and you’re able to see the best you have in weeks. You look up at him in wonder, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Instead of his normal dark clothes that you’re used to seeing him in; Touya is dressed in a flowing, white burial shroud that exposes his chest. It makes him look eirthral, like a ghost that had come back from the grave. What really concerns you though, is the right side of his face – the side closest to you. The burnt flesh on his lower jaw by his mouth is gone, and you swear that you see the bone underneath starting to appear.

“Touya—Touya what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me. It looks worse than it is.” Touya grumbles, dismissing your concerns. “The person that you should be worrying about, is you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, love.” You tell him softly. “I’ve been sick for a while now… I’ve held out longer than a lot of other people have, but I think my luck is running out fast.”

This time you know you’re not seeing things. You watch in shock as a large droplet of blood oozes out from underneath the burnt skin under his eye and slowly rolls down his face, leaving a shiny red trail behind it as it makes its way down his ruined skin. You try to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but Touya beats you to it, releasing your cheeks long enough to turn away from you and compose himself.

“That crusty bastard. He promised me that he would keep it away from here… guess it got past him too-“ you hear Touya mutter under his breath. “It doesn’t matter now, gods… fuck.” He turns to face you again, and you see a red streak running along the side of his face, where he tried to wipe the blood tear away. His hands return to yours, and he wraps them up tightly.

“I tried… I tried so fucking hard to keep it contained. I thought, if I could contain it to the East, then it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come here, to you. Even though I’ve seen it happen, so many times over the years. I thought I could change it.”

“Touya what are you talking about, you’re not making any sense.” You beg him, but he doesn’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in his own head, as he squeezes your hands in his own.

“It’s not fair. You’re so full of life. I don’t want you to die like this.”

Something in his gaze shifts and the sadness from earlier is gone. Instead, a determined look has appeared in its place. He cradles the back of your head and neck with one of his hands as he gently lifts your head up to him, flinching at your pained whimpers.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you urgently.

“Of course.” You whisper, your vison is starting to darken again, but you try and keep your focus on Touya’s bright blue eyes.

“I can stop this.” He murmurs. “I can stop this and save you and what’s left of your town. But you need to make a deal with me. Do you accept?”

“A deal…? Stop this… I don’t…” you whisper, and Touya squeezes your hand, desperate to keep your attention on him.

“The full extent of my abilities come with a price. I can save you, but at a cost.”

“What’s the price?” you find yourself asking. You’re not sure how he intends to save anyone from something as severe as the plague with no cure; much less yourself, considering that you’re almost certainly on death’s doorstep, but you’re curious. Even if you’re beyond saving, maybe your town still has a chance.

“You.”

“Me.” You echo, still fighting to keep your gaze on him. “Why?”

“I told you already, you’re mine, you’ve always been mine. But this will bind us to each other indefinitely. Your life will become mine in exchange for me removing the sickness from you and your village. Do we have a deal?”

“Am I really worth that much?” you tease hoarsely, as you feel your eyes start to close against your will.

“You mean more to me than anything in this pathetic life.” You hear Touya grind out. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He squeezes your hand, and his next words sound almost desperate. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my lifetime and I’ve lived a long time. Please let me do this for you.”

You know that under different circumstances, you wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Touya’s words are carrying an underlying weight to them, and you know there’s something that he’s not telling you. Normally, before agreeing to anything, you’d make sure everything was out in the open and that there weren’t any catches to your deal… but really, how much time did you have to ask about the finer details?

You were out of time. You knew it, and he knew it too.

Really, how bad would it be being his? Wasn’t that what you always wanted anyways?

“I accept.” You whisper, as your world fades to black, not even sure if Touya heard you or not.

He did.

The next few moments are a whirlwind. You feel Touya stand up above you and his hands go to your left forearm – to the spot where you first noticed the sickness. It’s arguably the worst spot on your body. The darkness has spread underneath your skin and takes up almost your full forearm now.

You feel his warm hands press into the skin of your forearm, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then his hands start to heat up, hotter and hotter, and you can smell something burning. You don’t know whether it’s your flesh or his, but you don’t have the energy to scream out, even though the pain is excruciating.

There’s a bright blue flash and you feel something being seared into your arm – in the same spot where your original plague mark was. Heat spreads through your body like a wildfire, and you feel like you’re being burned from the inside out. Suddenly, as quickly as the pain started it’s gone.

You’re shaking, gasping for air as you try to control your rapidly palpating heart, but you can’t open your eyes. Exhaustion hits you full force, and you feel what little strength you had left in you bleed out. Touya is still there, and you feel him slowly ease you back down onto your pillow, placing your arm down at your side once more.

“Rest now beloved. I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner than he says those words, you feel yourself slip off into slumber, and you allow the darkness to take you.

You wake to the sun streaming across your face

It’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of the sun in months, and at first, you think that you’ve died, but the tell-tale signs of stiffness in your muscles tell you that you’re still very much alive, if not very dehydrated.

The thought draws you up short.

You’re alive. You’re alive when you probably shouldn’t be. That means… Touya… he’d done it.

A burning feeling races through your left forearm and draws you up short. You slowly bring your arm up to look at what’s causing the pain, only for your eyes to widen impossibly.

The dark stain under your skin caused by the plague is gone, as are all of the other signs of sickness that had marked your body. What is on your arm, is nothing short of confusing.

A strange symbol is on your arm, in the spot you remember Touya gripping the hardest. A long, straight line runs horizontally done your forearm with three smaller lines running through it. Another long, straight line along the top of the first line completes the marking, and you stare at it in shock.

It covers the spot where you had your original plague mark, almost as if you’d never had it at all.

You reach out and gingerly touch the mark, only for your door to open suddenly – causing you to yank your nightgown sleeve down in a hurry. You glance over to see both of your parents standing in your doorway. It seems to take them a moment to process that you’re awake, and seemingly plague free, before they rushed to your bedside and have pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re awake! Thank gods you’re awake! We thought that we lost you for sure!” your mother sobs, as she clutches you to herself. You’re shocked, and you ask her what she means, only for her to hold you tighter.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. You wouldn’t wake up! Nothing we did worked.” Your mother cries, and you feel your heart drop.

Three days? What did that mean for everyone else?

“We’ve heard from Chiyo that all of the patients at the apothecary have also recovered. She’s not sure how, but the plague seems to have disappeared.” Your father states gruffly, as he strokes your hair. “It’s some sort of miracle.”

Yes, and his name is Touya. You think to yourself. Just what was he, to be able to have the power to dispel a sickness as deadly as the decay plague from an entire town?

“We do have a visitor downstairs, if you feel up to meeting with him.” Your mother informs you as she passes you a cup of water. “Some of the priests are visiting homes on Chiyo’s orders, to check in on families and see if anyone is still sick. The head priest from the Endeavor temple is here. I’m sure he’d love to check in on you now that you’re awake.”

You don’t particularly want anyone to see you right now, knowing that you must look awful and you would much rather go find Touya, provided that he was still in town somewhere – but you nod anyways. Your mother tells you to take your time getting ready, as she and your father leave your room, saying that she would tell the priest to wait downstairs.

The process to get ready is painfully slow. Your muscles are weak from a lack of use, but you’re able to wash yourself if you move carefully. You slip on a clean dress, making sure that the mark on your forearm is fully covered, and run a brush through your wet locks before deciding that was enough, and gingerly make your way downstairs.

You slowly make your way into the living room where you see the priest from Endeavor’s temple sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting for you. He’s a large man, dressed in Endeavor’s traditional colours: dark blues and fiery oranges and reds. Your parents leave when you enter to give you some privacy and the priest points to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat girl.” He tells you, and you sit without a word. You fidget uncomfortably as he looks you over carefully, before finally speaking. “Chiyo specifically asked me to come check on you and see how you’re doing. She wanted to thank you for all your help at the beginning of this mess. She wanted to come herself, but she has a few things to take care of at the apothecary. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, it was my honor. I couldn’t leave her there all alone.” You tell him, lifting your arm to wave off his praise without thinking about it. You realize your mistake too late, as the sleeve covering your forearm slowly rolls down to your elbow, revealing the mark etched into your skin.

The priest stops dead the second he glances at your forearm, ad his eyes widen impossibly. He points shakily to the mark etched into your arm. “Where did you get that from girl? Who did that to your arm?”

You hesitate. How can you possibly explain Touya to him? No one aside from you could see him. They’d call you mad if you tried to be honest, and would cast you out from your home. What would you do then?

‘I… I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.” You mutter, clutching your arm close to you. “Why, what’s so special about this mark?”

“That is Dabi’s seal.” The priest hisses as he snaps his fingers at you, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “I haven’t seen a mark like that for decades now, but he is closely connected to my lord Endeavor and I’d recognize it anywhere. It has been rumored that he puts that mark onto people who enter into deals with him. I’m wondering how you ended up with it on your arm.”

Your world crumbles around you at his words, and the illusion that you had unknowingly walked into, shattered.

Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya-

Touya is Dabi.

How could you not have seen it sooner? Looking back on it, the signs were obvious: how he knew so much about Dabi – or rather, himself. How he could seamlessly travel across large areas with very little effort. How he had powers that far surpassed any mage or race you’d heard of. How he never seemed to age… How his body had lasted so long despite the burns that were very clearly getting worse as time passed by-

The thought draws you up short. A hazy memory of Touya standing over your deathbed. A chunk of his flesh missing from the side of his mouth… looking more worn down than you could ever remember seeing him… Suddenly, you have to find him.

And you think you know exactly where he is.

“I-I have to go.” You mutter, shakily rising to your feet. The priest tries to get you to sit back down, but you shove him off. You barely have time to throw a light shawl around your shoulders and put your shoes on, before you’re running out the door in the direction of Dabi’s temple, ignoring the surprised shouts of your parents.

You are reminded how weak your body currently is, as you have to stop and catch your breath several times on the way to the temple, ignoring the looks that a few curious townspeople are giving you, as you eventually make your way to the temple.

This time, you don’t need to reach for the doors, since they seem to open on their own for you. You step through the entrance and they close behind you softly, shutting you away from the sunshine outside. You notice the temple is seemingly empty, but the prayer candles are lit at the base of Dabi’s statue, and the flames are blue.

He’s here, somewhere, you know it, you feel it, but for some reason, he hasn’t shown himself to you yet. It makes you worry and prompts you to call out his name softly.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The familiar rasp of his voice echoes from behind the larger-than-life sculpture. You smile in spite of yourself, and move closer to the sound of his voice, where you can just make out a shadowy figure partly concealed behind the base of the stature.

“Don’t come any closer.” The harsh growl makes you pause.

“Why?” you ask the shadow and you see two familiar blue eyes staring back at you from the gloom.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before you shake your head. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care about what you look like.” You swallow before adding on. “I think you and I need to talk about some things… about you.”

“So, you figured it out?” the figure rumbles, and you nod.

“There are some things I need to know. Things that I need to understand. But please, I just want to see you. Come out.” You extend your hand towards the shadow, and hear him sigh deeply, before shuffling closer to you.

A burnt hand takes hold of yours, dwarfing it, and the man—no, the deity, pulls himself into the light provided by the candles. He watches as your face changes from confusion, to shock realization, then to—

He doesn’t think he can do it; he can’t watch as you reject him. He knows that he doesn’t look pretty. He looks like a walking corpse and he knows this. He looks more dead than alive and honestly, he is. He knew he shouldn’t hang around the temple, knowing that you’d eventually come looking for him once you had recovered enough, but he’d wanted to see you one last time before he made the inevitable trip back home to the underworld – even if it meant you seeing him like this—

“Oh, Touya. Did… did you do this to yourself to cure me?” you whisper so softly; he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. He risks glancing back at you, only to see that your face hasn’t twisted in disgust upon his reveal. You’re holding his hand so tightly, like you’re afraid that he’ll crumble to ash if you don’t, and maybe he would, he’s not sure anymore.

Your eyes meet his, and he sees unshed tears in them. There is no repulsion or fear in your eyes like he thought there might be, there is only concern and worry for him, and he feels his once dead heart thunder in his burnt chest.

He wishes he could feel the texture of your soft hands on him again, but the burns are deep and have spread everywhere now. All he can feel is pressure on his hand where you’re holding it in your own. Suddenly, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time.

You stare back at him, trying your best not to shed the tears you feel forming – knowing that they won’t help anything. What remained of Touya’s once beautiful, pale skin is gone. His entire body is covered in deep russet scaring. The mess of staples that he hadn’t bothered to remove or replace, were scattered across his body where they had once held the damaged and healthy skin together. Parts of his body – where you assume the skin had been thinnest on him – are burned almost completely down to the bone. The skin by one side of his mouth is almost gone, and the flesh near his wrist on his other hand – the one that he didn’t give you – has been burnt down to where you can see the tendons flexing when he moves.

He's still wearing the white robes from before. He looks like a wraith, a sight that would terrify even the bravest of people, but it stirs no such feelings in you.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shakes his head.

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Oh.” You croak, not sure if his answer made you feel any better. It doesn’t, but you try not to let it show on your face.

The deity gently removes his hand from yours and moves several paces back from you, as if he’s trying not to upset you. You feel a lump rise in your throat, but push it down. “Did you do that to yourself to cure me from the plague?” you ask him again and he only nods once.

“You and what’s left of your town. I told you; I make good on my promises. It’s the blowback that gets me. Shigaraki won’t like what I’ve done, but he can’t do anything about it.”

You frown at the mention of the other name. You swear that you’ve heard it before somewhere, but you can’t place where from. Maybe if you remember, you’ll ask him about it later, but right now, you have other things you need him to clarify.

“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dabi snorts at your formalities, and waves you off.

“Please. None of that from you, Princess. If I wanted you to call me by my titles, I would’ve made you do it when we first met.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. You’d been slightly worried that knowing his identity would change the dynamic of your relationship with him. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“How come I could see you when no one else could?” you question him. Dabi pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain himself.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He responds after a moment. “We walk amongst mortals all the time; we’re just hidden in plain sight. Some humans are different than others, and are able to see us for what we really are, but most mortals can’t see through our disguises. I choose to be invisible, it’s much easier to do my job that way. Normally, the only time humans can see me is when I come to collect their soul, or when I let them see me purposefully. But you,” he fixes you with his intense stare that you’ve grown used to.

“you were an abnormity. I’ve only ever met one or two other mortals in my time alive that were able to see me, even when I was invisible to everyone else.”

“What did you do to them?” you don’t know what prompts you to ask. Dabi looks away from you.

“I killed them.”

“Why though?” You’re not sure if you want to know his reasoning, but this may be the only time you get to ask him.

“Because no one is supposed to see me – it’s taboo. The only time I’m supposed to be visible to mortals is when I come to take you to the Underworld with me. I can’t let people wander around telling others that Death himself is coming. Do you know how much chaos that would cause on the surface?” Dabi snickers to himself.

“But I could see you, and you didn’t kill me.” You press. Dabi lets a small smile pull at what remains of the muscles in his cheeks.

“No, I didn’t.” he agrees quietly.

“Were you going to?” you ask, remembering how tense he was the first time you met face to face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’re not mad about the revelation. You’re just curious. What made you so different from the others that came before you?

“I was going to… But something told me not to.” Dabi trails off, seemingly not having the words to describe why he did what he did. “I couldn’t tell you why I hesitated back then… but I’m glad I did.” The hint of a smile ghosts across his face. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t predict everything else that came afterwards. But I’m certainly not complaining.”

Your face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson when you realize he’s talking about when you fucked in this temple… his temple.

You can’t bear to bring yourself to meet the smug look in his eyes, so you try to compose yourself best you can, but it’s hard when you feel his oceanic eyes boring into your being.

“I… I just have one final question to ask you.” You stammer out, trying to fight down the colour in your cheeks that you know he can see. The burnt deity nods, signaling for you to continue. You suck in a breath, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“What… what exactly does this mark that you’ve given me mean? To you, that is.” You ask, touching the mark on your arm with your other hand, and you swear that you hear Touya- no, Dabi, bite back a moan.

“It marks you as mine. To humans and other gods alike, it means you are mine and under my protection.” He growls, a possessive edge in his raspy voice.

“Is that all?” you probe softly. Dabi bites back a laugh, and fixes you with a warm expression, blue eyes glowing like a cat in the dimly lit temple.

“What do you think?”

He answers your question with another question, but it’s weighted. The mark definitely has another meaning to it, you’re sure of it, but you want to hear it from him.

“I think it means something more… but I want to be sure. I don’t remember the finer details of our conversation, since I was… well… dying.” You shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. You don’t particularly want to be reminded of that time.

Dabi must see it in your expression, because he immediately drops the teasing act and takes a hesitant step towards you, slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare you.

He points at your arm and you lift it up so he can see the symbol burned into your skin. “That is my personal mark. It means that you’re not only under my protection… but it also marks you as my consort.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you can tell that he’s not joking. He’s deadly serious.

“Your consort? You mean, like… like a bride?” you breathe, hardly daring to believe it. Dabi cracks a smile.

“So that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Yes, you are. Unlike some of my kin, I don’t take multiple wives. It’s just you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you have to fight yourself to stay upright.

“Oh gods. I’m the bride of a god.” You mutter, swaying slightly in place. “You’re a god. You’re an actual god.”

The burned deity only chuckles. “I can’t believe that you never figured it out. It’s not like I was trying to hide it from you at the end there.”

“I mean… It’s obvious you weren’t human, but I didn’t think you were a God.” You mutter. “You just… you acted so… casual. Not like what I’d expect a God to act-- not that I’m complaining of course!” you add on as you hear Dabi let out an amused snort.

You point up at the statue of Dabi- or rather, him. “Besides, it’s not like I knew what you looked like. You’re always depicted with a hood over your face.” You frowned. “Why is that exactly? You’re not wearing a hood. You’ve never worn one when you’re with me. The only time I ever saw you with one was when you were traveling. Not as you are now. You never let any of your disciples see you?”

“They depict me like that because it’s easier that way.” Dabi explains smoothly. “My face changes depending on what part of my… cycle I’m in. Sometimes I look like how I did when we first met – other times I look like… well, this.” He gestures to himself after a brief pause. It makes your heart ache.

“My kind are supposed to be divine beings. Perfect. I am not. I don’t need to be depicted looking like a walking corpse to the few people who still worship me and visit my temples.”

His gaze flicks back up to you. “You were never supposed to see me like this.”

You know that you shouldn’t psychoanalyze him, but you can’t help but find him endlessly fascinating. He may be a god – a divine, primordial being – but his emotions were so very human.

He may go by many different names, but Dabi was Touya. Your Touya, the man you fell in love with over the years you spent getting to know him. The man who would willingly burn down your village to keep you by his side, only to save it in its time of need, for you.

What he looked like was irrelevant.

“What you look like doesn’t bother me.” You tell him softly, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “It never has. You know that.” Touya’s muscles flinch, like he’s fighting against moving away from you, but he stays rooted to the spot as you slowly advance, until you’re close enough to place a hand on the exposed part of his chest – right above his heart.

“I will love you no matter what form you take, because no matter what: you’re still Touya. You’re still the man I love. God or not, you always will be.”

You lean forward and press your lips to what is left of the flesh around his mouth, and you feel him release a shuddering breath, as his arms come up to wrap themselves tightly around you. You pull away slightly to tuck your head against his chest, returning his embrace, ignoring the burnt smell that always clings to him; and you feel him rest his chin on your head.

You don’t know how long you stay like that for, but eventually Touya reluctantly removes his chin from his spot on your head, and lowers it so he can speak directly into your ear.

“I have to go.”

You try and pull away so you can look him in the eyes, but his arms keep you tightly pressed up against him, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll turn to smoke and disappear.

“But… you said that we’re bound to each other now? You promised me that you wouldn’t leave again-“

“I know, but this will be the last time I leave without you, I promise.” He rasps in your ear. “This cycle is at the end. I’m dying.”

You feel your heart clench painfully at his words, and suddenly, you’re taken back to the spring, where he took you to his temple for the first time, and where he unknowingly to you, explained his history. Where he also revealed that gods themselves could die, however difficult it was.

“You’re… you’re dying? How, why? I thought you said it was almost impossible for you to die?”

You feel Touya shake his head and squeeze you again. “It’s different in my case. I die a lot. But the difference is: I come back. It just takes a while.”

“I don’t understand, please Touya, what do you mean?” you feel frantic, and cling to his robes like small child. “I-I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t.” Touya promises you firmly, pulling back to fix you with an unwavering look. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m more like a force of nature then a ‘traditional’ god. My power is great, but it destroys my body and I ‘die’. However,” his eyes narrow dangerously as he thumbs over the mark on your arm, “I’m a god of the Underworld, and we play by different rules than those that reside upstairs.” He points a finger mockingly up to the roof of the temple.

“I have what you humans call a ‘cycle’. Whenever I ‘die’ I return home, so that I can rest and regenerate my body. Eventually I come back to how I was before I got all of my scaring, and start again. The cycle repeats itself over and over again on an endless loop.” He sends you a crooked grin.

“That’s the other half of my secret: Cremation and Reincarnation tend to go hand in hand. But nobody needs to know that except for you.”

“How many times have you done this?” you breathe, but Touya only shakes his head, shooting you a forced smile.

“More times than I can count. I’m not the oldest God in the pantheon Sweetheart, not by a long shot, but compared to you, I’m ancient.”

“Oh.” You murmur. trying to fight down the blush at the stark differences in your ages, and Touya’s smile becomes more relaxed. You fist your hands at the front of his robe and try your best to return his smile. “So, you’re going to come back… for me?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually return to my original form. But it’s going to take me a while to regenerate.”

“Oh gods, you mean I’m going to be an old woman by the time you come back to get me.” You joke, trying your best to lighten the somber mood, and Touya barks out a laugh.

“No, no. It won’t take that long, I promise… but, that being said, it won’t be anytime soon either. I’m sorry.”

You nod, and try to relax your grip on his robes. You smooth your hands over the soft fabric, and inwardly you hum in delight, as you feel Touya’s abnormally warm hands run down your waist. He brings one hand up to your chin and gently tilts your face up to meet his.

“I will be back for you. Make no mistake about that.”

You feel his other hand glide up to your left forearm, the one that now bares his mark, and press on it possessively. “This binds us together. I’ll make good on my promise, and when I come back for you: I’m going to take you around the world with me, just like I promised you I would. I’ll give you everything.”

You feel your eyes water with his declaration. The sincerity in his eyes tells you that he’s not bluffing. He will be back for you the next time he comes to your humble village, and he will show you the world if you so choose it.

“…How will I know?” You finally manage to ask him quietly.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that you’re coming back to get me?”

Touya lets a deep laugh rumble out of his throat, and pushes his face close to your ear so he can whisper directly into it:

“Oh, don’t worry… you’ll just know.”

-----

Three years have passed since that day.

Spring has come again, symbolizing rebirth and renewal, and yet seemingly nothing has changed in your little village. You still work at the apothecary with Chiyo, but now you spend most of your time at Dabi’s temple, keeping it clean, and trying to educate those who visit it, more about the reclusive Cremation God.

More people have started to visit the temple in the three years since you last saw Touya, and you’d like to think that he’d be pleased if he could see it. You’re headed to the temple now to do your daily cleaning, and make sure that everything is orderly, before you head back home for the night.

You smile as you watch a group of small children run past you, as you think back to the day that Touya had left you one final time.

Word had spread like wildfire after you had returned from the temple that day – about how you had made a deal with the elusive Cremation God himself to cure the town of its plague, and how you now bore his mark on your own skin, binding you to him.

You thought that you’d be ostracized, a pariah in your town – but surprisingly, the majority of people seemed to accept it with very little backlash. You suppose that’s the closest to thanks that you’ll get for playing a part in saving your town from destruction, but you’ll take it.

More people do tend to keep their distance from you now, largely in part due to your lover’s fearsome reputation, but you don’t hold it against them.

They’ve started calling you Shaoha – Death Woman. Normally, it’s a derogatory name for a demon or witch, but you know they don’t mean it in that way, and you can’t help but find it fitting given the circumstances and your ties to the Death God himself.

You smile sadly in spite of yourself as you make your way through the forest trail towards Dabi’s temple, leaving the village behind you.

You dress mostly in black or deep blues these days, mourning the fact that you haven’t seen your god in years now. He promised you that he would eventually be back for you once he had healed, before you were old and gray, but you wished that he would have given you a rough estimation of how long that would take, because with each day that passes, you miss him more and more.

Your friends have started families of their own, and while you never had the urge to have children of your own, seeing them happy with their husbands makes you wish that Touya was here with you. Your friends give you sympathetic smiles, and try and comfort you best they can. While you’re grateful that they try, it’s not the same.

It’s strange: you’re surrounded by people who care for you, and yet; you feel more alone now then you ever did before.

You reach Dabi’s temple and push the doors open, finding a few people milling about, paying their respects inside, and the sight pleases you greatly. Ever since it was revealed that he had been behind the disappearance of the plague, the townspeople had started coming to the temple more frequently to pay homage to him. You’re glad that you had cleaned up the temple beforehand, even if it was just for you and him initially.

Several of the people take notice of you, and they quickly file out to allow you to do your daily inspection. After deeming everything to be orderly, you make your way back to your home, just as the sun is starting to disappear behind the tree-line.

You reach your house just as dusk has fallen, and you talk with your parents over dinner for a while before heading to bed. As grateful as you are for their company and their efforts to keep you occupied, the constant ache in your chest never fully dissipates, even when you aren’t alone.

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you send out a silent goodnight to Touya, hoping that he can hear you, wherever he may be. Just as you have done every night for the last three years.

You hope that wherever he is, he knows how much you miss him.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You open your eyes again and your room is pitch black, letting you know that it’s the dead of night. For a moment, you lay there confused, wondering why you’ve woken up at a seemingly random time, only to realize that you feel different.

You don’t feel physically sick, and the sensation that is coursing through your body like liquid fire in your veins doesn’t feel ominous or wrong, but you suddenly have the intense urge to get up and leave. Like you have to go somewhere urgently.

Your forearm – the one that bears Touya’s mark – feels hot. You trace it absentmindedly, quietly musing that the last time it burned like that was when he gave it to you--

Something clicks in your sleep addled mind, and you slowly sit up and push the covers off of you as you stand. You get dressed in long, dark skirts, and throw a traveling cloak around your shoulders for good measure – knowing deep down that you won’t be coming back.

As you walk through the hallways of your dark home like a ghost, you crack open the door to your parents room to gaze fondly at their sleeping figures. You send them a silent I love you, before closing their door, thanking them for everything. You pad silently through your house until you reach the front door, and pull it open soundlessly, stepping out of it for the final time, before shutting it firmly behind you.

You don’t look back.

You feel like a wraith as you walk through the deserted streets of your town, taking in each and every shop as you pass. The bright, pale moonlight is your only source of light as you walk, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of Dabi’s temple.

The burning in your forearm has lessened considerably and you know this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. You step inside, and slowly make your way to the foot of the hooded god’s statue. You smile slightly and take a seat facing the entrance doors that you didn’t bother closing, allowing moonlight to spill into the dark temple. You sit and you wait. You vow that you’ll wait all night if you have to.

You don’t have to wait for long.

There’s a tell-tale flash of blue outside the temple and a blast of searing heat follows, before everything stills again. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the temple makes your heartbeat quicken, and the tall silhouette of a man spills across the floor to where you’re sitting at the altar.

A familiar man dressed in white funeral shrouds enters the temple, and makes his way towards you. You can’t help but smile lovingly as you take him in. Even though he looks incredibly different from the last time you saw him, you’d recognize Touya anywhere.

Gone are the dark scars and staples that wreaked havoc on his skin. The man, the god, that stands before you, has skin as pale as snow, almost blending into the white of his shroud. He looks like he’s bathed in moonlight, with eyes as bright and blue and beautiful as the flames he wields. Upon closer inspection. you still see faint seams in his skin where his burns were previously. A remanent of his past life, and one that you find incredibly endearing.

He is not perfect, but neither are you. You selfishly think that maybe you were made for each other.

He stands before you, seemingly at a loss for words, but his deep turquoise eyes tell you everything you need to know. You, however, have quite a few things you want to say to him. So, you start with the obvious.

“I’ve missed you.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles, cerulean eyes looking sad.

“I know. But I’m here now, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“It means everything.” You confirm breathlessly as he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your soft skin. You shamelessly lean into his touch and watch as he smiles at you.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’ve been ready for a long time. You kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich in your ears.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There are so many things I want to show you.” His free hand sneaks down and intertwines with yours. “I make good on my promises, you know.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

His heart – the organ in his chest, that he was sure had stopped working after his fall from grace – thunders into irregularity in his chest. Now he’s sure that it beats for you, and you alone.

You, the first person in a long, long time, who’s made him feel something aside from hatred and scorn. The first person to see past the scars, the first one to see him at his worst and still show him unconditional love where others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

He loves you, and he always will.

He lifts the hand that’s still laced with his, to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, sending you a smile that makes you melt.

“Let’s go home.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #tw: death #mha dabi #mha #bnha #rose reblogs #please let me know if i missed any tags!#please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings!

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