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daddyjackfrost · 10 days ago

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Oh, my love, side to side: B. Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!F!Reader

Synopsis: After a successful yet traumatizing mission, you dream of losing Bucky for the first time in years. In a fit of panic, you call him. He answers. Not the phone, but the call your heart makes to his.

Warnings: Slow burn, fluff, minor angst if you squint, best friends to lovers?, mentions of; blood, injuries, burning bodies, crumbling buildings, nightmares, death, loss, panic attacks, and religious imagery, down!bad bucky, very obvious they are in love, WC: 3k

A/N: Thank you for the request! I really do love slow-burns. I wrote this in like, forty minutes so if it’s bad, I’m sorry! Also, listen to the song! it elevates the experience. Reblogs & Comments appreciated!

The quinjet landed just after midnight.

The compound’s landing pad lights flickered against the sheen of metal, casting long shadows as the ramp lowered with a hiss. The mission had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline hadn’t faded, not really. It clung to your skin like sweat, and its success didn’t account for the blood caked beneath your fingernails or the tremble in your fingertips when you keyed in your ID. It didn’t reflect the way your chest still heaved like you were mid-sprint, lungs not quite convinced you were out of danger.

The inside of your suit was stiff with dried blood—some yours, most not.

As you stepped down into the quiet night, your body ached with exhaustion, but your mind wouldn’t slow. Not even with the hum of familiarity beneath your boots. You were safe and the mission was over.

And still, you felt like the rug was going to be pulled out from under you any second.

You chose to go on this mission alone. You had done your research, accounted for all the mistakes that could have been, memorized the facts and mission brief, and yet. Muscles aching, you leaned your head against the cool metal.

The elevator hummed as it carried you back up to the main floor. The doors opened to the familiar click of Tony’s boots echoing from the kitchen, and Natasha’s soft voice somewhere behind him. Laughter floated down the hallway—Sam, probably, cracking jokes at this late hour.

You stepped into the glow of the kitchen and the moment your boots hit tile, all heads turned.

“Hey, hey—look who made it back alive,” Sam called, voice low but teasing as he leaned against the counter. His eyes raked over your bloodied body and softened a fraction.

Natasha looked up from her tea. “You’re late.” She had kept tabs on you in the beginning. She had no idea how horrible it had gone, how it had all unravelled.

Tony grinned from the bar, nursing something with too much tequila and not enough sense. “She walks in looking like a murder scene and you’re giving her shit?” He raised the glass towards you in a silent salute. “Welcome back.”

You let out a breath of laughter, slow and tired. The kind that pulled from your chest more like a sigh.

“Just took the scenic route,” you said, voice hoarse. “You know how I enjoy a pretty view.”

The words felt like bile on your tongue. There had been nothing pretty about anything you had seen. You knew they’d see bits and pieces in the morning, how their concern would flood your senses, but for now, you shoved it all to the back of your mind.

The last thing you needed was Sam sitting you down or Natasha hovering.

You felt his eyes before you saw them. Warm, filled with knowing.

Bucky stood near the wall, arms crossed, his figure still as stone. His hair was brushed back, strands curling loose around his face. The dark t-shirt stretched over his chest like it didn’t want to let go of him. His eyes followed every subtle movement you made—the slight limp, the way your shoulders curled inward, your haunted silence.

To others, you were fine. A little bruised, shaken up, but smiling.

To him, you were a storm waiting to break. Something scraped and aching.

Both of you had a tradition, something that had started years ago. A simple nod and smile after a mission, just to assure the other that you were okay, that you hadn’t let the mission come back home.

You avoided his gaze and set your bag down with a soft thud. You knew, knew he’d read you too easily. He had offered to come with you, not because he thought you couldn’t handle it but because two sets of hands were always better than one. He wanted to help you, be someone you could lean on, but you had refused with a smile.

Flashes of burning bodies and crumbled buildings hit you like a truck and you blinked.

You didn’t smile or nod, just dodged his burning stare. He clenched his jaw.

“Gonna shower,” you murmured. “See you guys in the morning.”

“You want dinner?” Sam offered. “We saved—”

“I’ll grab it later,” you cut him off, turning. “Thanks.”

Bucky watched you disappear down the hallway, the tension in your spine making his own body coil tight. He hated seeing you like this, hated that things had gone wrong and he hadn’t been there to help you.

“Don’t follow her,” Natasha said quietly, not unkindly.

He didn’t move. Not yet.

But later, when the kitchen had emptied, goodnights shared, and lights dimmed, Bucky made you a plate anyway. Put your favourites on it. Covered it in foil and tucked it into the fridge. Maybe, just maybe, you’d listen to your body and eat something.

He couldn’t force you, but he could make it easier.

Quietly, he made his way down to his floor, but stopped at yours first. The elevator doors opened silently and he was greeted with a dark floor, eerily quiet. He moved towards your bedroom, eyed the bandages and medkit on the counter.

He paused at your door for a moment, eyes narrowed, trying to listen through the silence. He heard nothing, just your soft breaths, a rustle.

Then, slowly, he walked away.

Sleep didn’t come easily anymore, not for you. It hadn’t, for years.

But when it finally did, it came hard and fast—dragging you under into a memory that wasn’t quite a memory. The sky was red. Your lungs burned. In the middle of the smoke and gunfire and screaming. You were running toward him.

“Bucky!”

Your voice tore out of you in a ragged scream. He turned, slow and silhouetted in the haze, blood on his shirt—so much blood—and then he was gone.

Shot. Chest ripped open. Dying.

You dropped to your knees. You were screaming. Shaking.

He was bleeding out in your arms, dog tags slick with blood, his blue eyes wide and fading.

You woke up gasping.

Your sheets were damp with sweat, clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. The room was too dark. Too quiet. Your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, like your heart was breaking from the inside. You could barely breathe, throat raw.

He had died.

No, No—that wasn’t real.

You scrambled for your phone with shaking hands, barely able to put in the passcode. Your fingers shook as you tapped his name. It was instinct, muscle memory.

One ring. Two—

Panicked, you ended the call, dropping the phone like it burned. Your hands were in your hair.

“No, no, no—” you whispered, tossing the phone aside as you covered your mouth with both hands. You couldn’t breathe. Your body rocked with panic, your mind caught between now and then and that awful dream where he’d died and you couldn’t save him.

You hadn’t had a dream like this in years. You used to dream about loss—death—like it was family, but then you gained a new family, real and tangible. Hours at therapy had made you comfortable in your skin, had convinced you that loss could be prevented and how to deal with it.

But this—this was new. This was personal. This was Bucky. Your Bucky.

Pulling your legs up to your chest, you rocked back and forth, trying to breathe. The tears leaked out of your eyes anyways.

The phone vibrated once on the nightstand.

He was up before the second buzz.

Bucky didn’t waste time. Didn’t hesitate. He was already moving. Barefoot, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, dog tags clinking softly as he grabbed his gun from the nightstand. His metal hand clenched instinctively.

He glanced at his phone. Your name was on his screen.

You’d called and hung up.

That was enough to make his blood run cold.

You were only two floors up. He ignored the elevator and threw open the large metal doors, running quicker than he ever had before.

He didn’t knock. The door creaked open quietly. You didn’t hear it. He was silently glad you had granted him fingerprint access months ago. He didn’t need Jarvis alerting and disrupting you.

He stepped inside like he belonged there, in your space—because God, didn’t he?

His breath caught when he saw you—sitting up in bed, knees pulled to your chest, body trembling. You were sobbing. Your eyes vacant.

His heart cracked clean in half.

“Sweetheart…” His voice was soft, barely a breath.

You flinched. Then, your eyes met his—and he saw the exact moment they focused. The panic didn’t fade, but it shifted, turned into something raw, deeper.

“Bucky,” you gasped. His name felt like a prayer on your lips.

He crossed the room in three steps. Sunk to his knees in front of you, at the edge of your bed, like he’d done a hundred times before.

“Hey, hey,” his voice was soft, coaxing. “I’m here, Y/n. I got you.” He held his hands out, giving you the option to hold on or push him away. Either way, he wasn’t moving.

You stared at his hands for a second before you folded into him. You leaned down, off your bed, and wrapped your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you like they’d been sculpted for this—holding, grounding, anchoring. Like these very hands hadn’t caused mass destruction.

He pulled you onto his left knee, pressing your trembling body into his. He rubbed your back, pressed his cheek into your hair. “It was just a dream,” he murmured into your hair. You didn’t need to tell him, he knew. “You’re safe. Look at me, Y/n.”

You did, slowly. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in. You hadn’t even realized he was shirtless, just holding on like you’d fall apart if you didn’t.

His eyes, blue and stormy were so soft, so calm as he stared at you. His eyes flickered across your face, taking in the light bruising and cuts. Gently, his arms went under your knees and around your waist and he stood up.

Your hold on him tightened and for a moment, you thought he was going to drop you onto the bed and leave. You whimpered, wounded.

Bucky’s heart clenched in his chest and he pressed you closer to his chest as he sat down on the edge of your bed with you in his lap. “None of that, sweetheart. I’m here. With you.”

He rubbed your back as your face fell into the nape of his shoulder and he held onto you tight, wanting nothing more than to take on whatever burden rested on your chest.

“You were—God, Bucky, you were gone,” you choked out, still breathless. “I watched you die.”

He exhaled hard, holding you tighter. He pressed his chin into your hair, hoping you hadn’t felt the shiver that ran down his back. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded against his skin but he could tell his words hadn’t fully registered. He remembers the first time he had dreamt of you dying. It had been years ago, when you had first made him laugh. He was trying to stay away from everyone, keep them out of harm's way, but you’d slowly but surely clawed your way inside his heart.

He hadn’t spoken to you in a week.

It wasn’t until you cornered him, told him that avoidance didn’t mean protection, that he tried to be better. For you.

He can’t remember if he’s ever died in your dreams. You hadn’t told him. He knew you used to dream about loss, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been included.

It was a terrifying feeling, he decided. Being on the receiving end of such a revelation. It meant too much. He meant too much and he didn’t know how to carry that weight with pride. If you were dreaming about losing him then that meant you had him.

And you did.

Irrevocably so.

You were the only one who ever had.

But this fear, the picture of him in your arms—it wasn’t one he wanted you to see, to experience. He hated that you had. He lost you in his dreams often, but that was because he didn’t have you. Couldn’t. It was his burden to bear.

You pressed your forehead to his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. His body heat helped with your shivers, his scent a calming balm. You didn’t realize how hard you were crying until his fingers were brushing away tears from your cheeks.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Part of you wanted to refuse, beg him not to leave you, but instead, you nodded, small and shaky.

You slid off his lap and he stood quietly, hand on your shoulder until he had no choice but to drop it as he moved quickly, stepping outside your bedroom door and into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and pulled a large glass out, filled it halfway with water and downed it.

He sighed and braced the sides of the counter, head tipping down. He hated this, hated that you’d been alone on the mission and that things had gone wrong, hated that you’d been woken up by such gruesome nightmares.

He wasn’t a very religious man but he’d beg God for all of your pain. If he never had to see that vacant look in your red-rimmed eyes again, he’d thank the God that had once abandoned him.

He hadn’t heard. Hadn’t heard the soft patter of your feet or your shaky breathing, too caught up in his mind.

But he felt you, felt your arms slide around his waist as you pressed into his back. He stilled before he sagged at the contact. You rested your cheek against his back, his hands resting on yours.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you whispered, guilt dripping onto the floors.

“You didn’t,” he lied. He had been, but that wasn’t your fault. “Just needed to see you.”

The silence that followed was soft, fragile. Sacred.

“I couldn’t save you.” You sounded broken, like even the words were pulling you under.

“You called me,” he said gently, tilting his head. “You reached for me. That means something.” He slowly turned in your arms, his arms wrapping around your waist as he looked at you, eyes having fully adjusted to the dark.

“Why’d you get out of bed?”

You looked away at the question, mildly embarrassed. But his eyes didn’t move, just watched you. “I needed to see you. Touch you.”

His lips parted at the admission. His arms around you tightened and he tipped his head down, chin resting on your head. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m okay. Alive.”

“Yeah,” you said. But it didn’t feel like enough.

Unbeknownst to either of you, you had begun to sway. It was soft, a whisper of muscle movement, but Bucky rocked you, side to side. It felt a bit like slow dancing, like if a candle had been lit and some 80s jazz had been playing, everything could have been warm and filled with love.

It was a little like that now.

The floors were cold and the room was dim but there was warmth between you, a press of chests as his body heat slowly enticed yours. There was love in the air, flickers of it wrapping around you like it couldn’t be helped.

Bucky didn’t want to be anywhere else. Here, in your arms, swaying with you in the kitchen was everything he wanted—needed. But you needed more, needed sleep and a restful night.

With an arm around you, he leaned back and filled the same glass with some water. Still close, he brought it to your lips and smiled softly when you let him tilt the glass up. The cool water soothed the dryness in your throat and you sighed, forehead against his bare chest.

“Come on,” he whispered into your ear. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He filled the glass to the top before he flexed his arm and crouched down a little. “Jump, sweetheart.”

With practiced ease, like it was second nature and maybe it was, you wrapped your legs around his waist and his hand, his warm, strong hand rested under your thigh. It was intimate, sweet, and it broke through the clouds that were in your head.

Made something warm, something delicate and treasured curl up in your stomach.

Holding you with one arm and the glass with the other, Bucky made his way back into your bedroom.

If these were any other circumstances, if you weren’t quietly still mourning him in your mind, you would have fully appreciated it. Bucky holding you and taking you to bed had been a dirty little secret of yours, something you’d think about and imagine when you were alone.

It—with his genuine love and affection—was all you wanted.

You didn’t know you already had it.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Your arms tightened around him as he eased you back into bed, carefully, never once letting go of you. You shook your head. “No. Can you stay? Please.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Bucky slid under the covers beside you, careful not to crowd. But then you turned and curled into his space, borrowing into his chest, your body instinctively molding to his, your face in the crook of his shoulder.

He wrapped himself around you instantly.

One arm tucked under your neck, the other holding you tight against his chest. His dog tags were cool against your skin. His hand pressed to the small of your back. You breathed in his scent—soap and cedar and wood—something so distinctly him.

“I don’t wanna lose you, Buck,” you whispered into his skin, heart settling but still afraid.

He exhaled sharply and buried his nose in your hair. “You won’t, Y/n. I’m here, with you. I’ll always come back to you.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “Just how you always come back to me.”

“Okay,” you whispered, focusing on his steady heartbeat, feeling safe for the first time in a week.

And in that quiet, the hush of your room, wrapped in his arms, the steady rhythm of two hearts finally beating in sync, your eyes drifted shut.

#hana’s.writing!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky one shot #bucky imagine #bucky smut #winter solider x reader #winter solider imagine

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goosewriting · 4 months ago

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The Aftermath

summary: reader visits Joaquín at the hospital as he wakes up from surgery.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, mention and description of injuries and medical procedures, mention of accident and explosions, brief mentions of PTSD from events in Infinity War/Endgame, self-doubts and guilt

word count: 2.2k

A/N: i started writing this the moment i came home from watching BNW. can't believe it took me this long to write for him,, he's been rotating in my mind ever since tfantws <3 we really need more fics for joaquín, he’s so blorbo coded like cmon!! 🥹🥹 if you have any recs pls send them my way!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Sitting by Joaquín’s hospital bed, you bring your hands to your face as you remember his accident on the Indian Ocean. You had watched the broadcast in horror, your heart in your throat as his figure fell from the sky into the open water.

At that moment, you couldn’t help but remember the video from all those years ago, where you saw how Rhodey had fallen as well, like a rock, everyone watching, unable to do anything to stop him. Just like War Machine, Joaquín had turned uncontrollably on his descent, one of his wings ripped from the suit by the missile exploding right in his face.

You’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit since a little before the battle against Thanos on Wakanda, where you had also fought with everyone, but then got blipped. The transition back to society with a gap of 5 years had been very hard on you, and while you stayed in contact with everyone who remained, helping out whenever you could, you didn’t really have it in you to go back out to the battlefield. Even after all this time, you still have nightmares about the snap and the Battle for Earth.

Bringing your hands back into your lap, you let out a trembling breath, clinging onto the constant soft beeping of the machinery to tether yourself to reality and not fall down a spiral of despair. Every time your eyes roam over Joaquín’s injuries, you close your eyes, pressing the base of your hands over them, then open them again. Your sight is momentarily sprinkled with dots, and as it clears, you hope for everything to have been a horrible nightmare. But once your view clears up, he’s still there. Unconscious. Hurt.

The surgery he’d been in last night had felt like it was never going to end. Still, you had stayed the whole time, and once he got out, you stayed at his side.

It’s been several hours since Joaquín got wheeled into his room, the head medic saying he was still unconscious but stable. You shift in the armchair by the bed where you sit. One of the nurses brought you something to eat earlier since you refused to leave, the wrapper of your sandwich still in your hands as your eyes start feeling heavier and heavier, and you can’t find it in yourself to fight the welcome embrace of sleep, slowly spreading through your limbs. You’ve almost completely dozed off when you hear a groan, and immediately your grogginess dissipates. You straighten up in your seat, the wrapper falling to the floor as you scoot closer to the bed, tears stinging behind your eyes. How you still have tears left, you have no idea, given how much you’ve cried in the past hours, terrified of losing the love of your life.

Joaquín blinks several times, scrunching his face, eyes trying to adapt to the light. He lifts his good arm, looking at the tubes attached to it, and his gaze roams the room and down his body, face contorting in pain lightly. Then his eyes land on you, and his face immediately softens.

“Hey, there,” he croaks out.

“You’re awake,” you whisper, holding his hand in your trembling ones. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”

“Pfft, it’ll take more than a meagre explosion to defeat the Falcon,” he retorts with a pained smile.

Normally you’d laugh at his jokes, enjoying his silly side, but right now you have no humour left in you. Another wave of tears rolls down your cheeks, and his smile vanishes.

“Please don’t joke about that,” you plead, giving his hand a squeeze. “You were hit by a freaking missile. From a fighter jet. While up in the air between two armies about to start a war with each other.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” He sighs.

There’s a moment of silence where you again study his bruised face, your gaze landing on the massive burn covering his whole shoulder, streaks of red raw skin visible on his jaw and throat. Your brows furrow in frustration.

“I should have been there,” you mumble, angry at yourself for letting this happen.

“What?” he asks, craning his neck to fully look at you.

“I should have gone with you,” you say, bringing your eyes to look up at him. “Then I could have helped and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Joaquín exhales through his nose in disbelief.

“We were in the air, and I went head to head with the missile even after Sam told me to back off,” he retorts, shaking his head. “There was nothing you could have done.”

His tone isn’t scolding; he’s telling the truth and you know it. Still, you can’t help but feel like the outcome could have been different, if you had just been better, braver. You try to choke back a sob, unsuccessful, and his hold tightens around your hand.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He speaks your name softly. “This isn’t on you. Please don’t cry.”

You grimace, biting the inside of your cheek.

“For a moment I thought you died, Joaquín. I was so scared,” you say with a shaky breath, bringing his hand to your face, and he cups your cheek. You place your hand over his, holding onto it and leaning into his touch like it was the last time you could hold him like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

Your heart shatters at the thought that even after getting hurt, after getting blown up, he’s the one apologising to you. He’s about to add something when the door opens and a nurse comes in. You back off a bit and hastily wipe your face with the back of your sleeves as she does some check-ups, both on Joaquín and the machines, taking some notes on her clipboard. She then takes one of the tubes attached to his arm, and places a syringe at the other end.

“What’s that?” you ask, suspicious. She gives you a quick look with a raised brow, but when she sees the state you’re in, her face relaxes again.

“Painkillers and antibiotics. He’ll need both of them,” she explains.

It doesn’t take long for the fluids to reach Joaquín’s blood system, and he visibly relaxes against the pillows and closes his eyes.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he sighs, and the nurse chuckles softly. You still can’t get yourself to let go of your worry. Once she’s done with everything, she leaves the way she came, exiting the room. As the door closes behind her, your eyes land on the wrapper on the floor, and you pick it up with a sniffle, crumpling it up further.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?” you ask as you throw the trash into the bin from where you sit, to your surprise making the shot. He doesn't answer, eyes still closed.

“Joaquín?” you ask softly, not wanting to wake him in case he fell asleep again.

“Huh? Wha?” His eyes open and he turns to look at you, his face visibly relaxed now.

“You okay?” You take his hand again, and he gives you a squeeze.

“Hmm-mm,” he hums with a nod, blinking slowly as he tries to focus on your face. “I just think I’m… kinda high right now.”

That’s when you finally break, unable to hold back an endeared chuckle, shaking your head. Joaquín’s eyes are filled with warmth and then concern as they land on your face, brows furrowing as if he just noticed something. His hand comes up to wipe away the remaining streak of tears. He also playfully pinches your cheek for good measure, eliciting another smile of yours.

“That’s better,” he concludes, a smile spreading on his face as well. The smile that could light up any room he’s in, in your humble opinion.

You prop your elbow onto the edge of the bed, head in your hands as you look at him, and he looks back at you with a silly grin. The beeps on the machine speed up a bit, and you look up at the screen, then back at him with a brow raised in amusement.

“Usually you can’t tell because I’m smooth as hell, but it’s true,” he notes, like a huge secret was just uncovered. “You still make my heart race.”

Heat prickles on your cheeks at his words and you avert your gaze with a snort. As long as your heart is still beating, you think, remembering that they had to resuscitate him after the accident, but you shake those thoughts away, preferring to focus on the fact that he’s still here, alive.

“I know that the moment you’re back on your feet, you’ll be out there again, suited up,” you start after a moment, shooting him a serious look. “So I won’t ask you to stop. But promise me to be more careful next time?”

“Pinky promise.” Joaquín lifts his hand, fingers curled except for his pinky, and you can’t help but chuckle as you mirror his gesture, curling your finger around his. He shakes your hand like that side to side for a bit, then drops it back down onto the bed. A strand of hair falls into his face as he leans back, and you brush it back, caressing over his bruised cheekbone gingerly.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmm.” You look at the timestamp on the muted TV in the corner, currently playing some movie or other. It’s only then that you realise you’ve been intermittently awake for almost two full days now. “Can’t really remember,” you lie.

“You need to rest. You look exhausted,” he remarks, gesturing to himself. “I’m taken care of.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” you say, putting as much finality into your voice as you can in your state.

He says your name softly. You look away. He sighs.

“Well, if you insist on staying, then at least I can get pampered a bit, yeah?” he starts, and you narrow your eyes at him in feigned suspicion. He asks with a playful pout, “You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?”

Joaquín turns his head, offering you his cheek. You can’t help but laugh.

“I thought you were high on painkillers already?”

“Even the best medicine holds nothing against your kisses.”

“Pfft, is that so.” Now it’s your heart’s turn to speed up. You two have been together for a while now, but he still makes you feel warm and fuzzy, and gives you butterflies in your stomach, when he isn’t on the brink of death, at least. “Well, in that case, I better get started on your dose.”

You lean forward, placing a kiss on his cheek, and he hums pleasedly. He doesn’t move, though, clearly waiting for more. You’re more than happy to oblige, placing kiss after kiss on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, being especially careful around his injuries. Finally, you hold his chin to turn his face towards you, and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his lips. It's chaste but sweet, and he smiles into it. When you lean back, his eyes are filled with love, slightly unfocused because of the meds, a goofy grin on his face. As you hold his face, you consider saying something cheesy, hoping he won’t remember it. But before you can speak, there’s a knock at the door, and someone steps in. It’s Sam. He looks surprised to see you.

“Damn, you’re still here?” he asks with concern, then turns to Joaquín. “How’re you feeling?”

“Splendid, really,” he replies, leaning into your hand still cupping his face.

“He got a decent shot of painkillers,” you explain, looking up at Sam with a tired smile. “He’s high as a kite.”

Sam chuckles, then looks at you worriedly.

“You need to rest. Both of you.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “Go home, I’ll take it from here.”

You hesitate, looking between the two, and Joaquín nods, his eyes pleading for you to also take care of yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Joaquín says, taking your hand from his face and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Right,” you sigh and rise to your feet with wobbly legs now that the exhaustion is finally kicking in full force, and Sam holds you up when your knees threaten to give in.

“Whoa there. You need a nap, ASAP.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you say with a sigh, steadying yourself as he lets you go, his hands still hovering over your arms for a moment in case he has to grab you again, but you manage to stand straight. You grab your jacket from the back of the chair, and turn to Joaquín. “I’ll come back this evening, okay? I’ll bring your favourite snacks too. Don’t tell the nurse, though.” You wink at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re the best.”

“No, you are.” You lean over him to kiss him goodbye, whispering ‘I love you’ against his lips, and pecking him once more for good measure. The machine’s beeps speed up again.

“Love you too. See you later.” Joaquín brings his hand up to caress over your cheek one last time, then you leave the room.

Sam is still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at his friend as the beeps slowly start decreasing back to normal.

“Very cute,” he remarks, unable to bite back a teasing smile.

“Don’t even,” Joaquín says and rolls his eyes playfully, knowing perfectly well that Sam will never let him live that down.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!]

#goose feathers #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #the falcon x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #marvel #brave new world

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dollishmehrayan · 6 months ago

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TRAITS THAT MAKE BATBOYS FALL INLOVE W YOU INSTANTLY ── .✦

a/n: genuinely I feel like as a enfp, idk what traits happen tbh oml, but literally i love romance but um 🧍🏻‍♀️ nobody asking me out fr fr (i barely go fucking outside) but anyways sorry if I haven’t got to your requests yet, I have like 7 to get to but I’m preparing for my birthday.

(Tags: batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Playful and Fun-Loving: He adores someone who’s not afraid to be silly. If you randomly burst into song or dance around the kitchen, he’s HEAD OVER HEELSS.

Emotionally Supportive: He falls harder for someone who understands his emotional side and offers support without judgment. Bonus points if you can coax him into sharing his feelings.

Affectionate: Physical touch is everything to him—whether it’s holding hands, surprise hugs, or running your fingers through his hair. He thrives on it.

Independent but Loyal: He admires someone who has their own goals but always makes it clear they’re in his corner. Seeing you succeed makes him proud.

Quick-Witted: If you can match his playful banter, it’s game over. He loves someone who can keep up with his teasing and give it right back.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Stubborn but Soft for Him: He’s drawn to someone who’s tough and stands their ground but melts when it comes to him. That contrast makes him fall harder.

Protective: If you subtly look out for him, like reminding him to eat or wrapping him in a blanket when he’s tired, it shows him how much you care, and he’s done for.

Dark Humor: Jason adores someone who gets his sarcasm and can laugh at his dark jokes without getting uncomfortable.

Courageous: He’s impressed by bravery, even if it’s in small ways—like standing up for yourself or others. He loves seeing your inner fire.

Comforting Presence: If you know how to calm him after nightmares or offer quiet reassurance during rough times, he’ll fall deeper every time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Curiosity and Intelligence: Tim falls harder for someone who’s curious about the world. If you ask deep questions or challenge his thoughts, he’s fascinated.

Nerdy Interests: Share his love for books, tech, or even video games, and he’ll fall head over heels. He loves geeking out with someone.

Kindness: Simple acts of kindness—whether to him or others—hit him hard. Seeing you help someone in need makes his heart swell.

Organized Chaos: If you’re the type who looks like a mess but somehow has everything under control, he’ll be utterly charmed by your efficiency.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Strong Moral Compass: He’s deeply drawn to someone who stands up for what’s right, even when it’s difficult. He admires unwavering integrity.

Loves Animals: Show kindness to animals (especially his pets) and he’ll be secretly touched beyond words. Bonus if you win Alfred the Cat’s approval.

Quiet Strength: He admires someone who doesn’t need to be loud to command respect. A calm, steady demeanor paired with strength is irresistible to him.

Artistic Talent: He’s captivated by creativity. Whether it’s painting, writing, or music, he falls harder if you’re passionate about your art.

Challenges Him: He loves someone who won’t be easily intimidated by him. If you call him out or challenge his views respectfully, he’ll be impressed—and smitten.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Compassionate Heart: Bruce is drawn to someone who cares deeply for others. Seeing you be kind, even when it’s inconvenient, melts his guarded heart.

Grounded and Calm: He falls harder for someone who brings peace into his chaotic life. If you’re calm and collected, especially in stressful moments, it soothes him.

Loyal and Trustworthy: Loyalty means everything to Bruce. If you’re fiercely loyal and trustworthy, he’ll feel safe in ways he rarely does.

Subtle Strength: He admires quiet, inner strength—someone who doesn’t need to boast but stands firm when it matters.

Sense of Humor: A soft, gentle humor that can get him to crack a rare smile or laugh when he’s brooding pulls him in deeper every time.

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sugurouge · 7 months ago

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— flame of despair : soulmate! sukuna ryōmen x rebirthed! f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, historical au, noncon, monsterfucking, aggressive hair pulling, dacryphilia, hurtful pet names (whore & pet), yandere themes, reader is viewed as sukuna’s property, deep throating, cunnilingus, blood, mindbreak, misogyny (he makes a nasty remark about the role of a woman), degradation

summary: Each and every life of yours will always belong to Sukuna. He will remind you of that promise with every new life, no matter the methods used. The idea of romance and being bound to your partner by soul, the thing you always dreamt of, becomes ruined and reality turns out to be a living nightmare once your soulmate claims you.

wordcount: 2.5k | my kinktober masterlist

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

"No, no, let's try that again, pet."

The monster looming above you muses, mischief gleams deep in those dreadful red eyes as Sukuna watches your trembling form at his feet. You're exposed to him, the white fabric of your drape drenched with blood and water from the unfortunate weather of the recent weeks; almost as if some higher being has been angered by your reunion.

Your hair is a tangled mess from where Sukuna's claws dragged you to kneel in front of him, and your lips are bruised thanks to a previous blow to your once-pretty face. The bitter taste of iron taints your tongue, yet the flavours pale in comparison to the horror that awaits every time Sukuna decides to let you out of your cage to 'play'.

"I—"

"Who do you belong to?" Sukuna interrupts, shattering the last fragments of your dignity.

"N-no—"

No one. No one, you were trying to say. You’ve tried to tell him that for weeks, ever since he found you and claimed you, spouting wild fantasies of past lives and how, in every new one, he would always come to find you again.

But you can’t even force those two small words past your lips before a harsh slap to your cheekbone sends fresh tears streaming down your face, sobs erupting from your throat. The claws digging into your cheeks sting, they tear at your skin as sharply as his words pierce your soul. "You belong to me. You’re mine. My property, understand?"

He makes you nod, grinning as your tears glisten under the dim light of the fires dancing around his hall. "Repeat it for me." His deep voice rumbles ominously, the tip of his nose brushing almost affectionately against your tear-streaked cheek.

"I'm... I'm," you falter as your brows crease in disgust over the words about to escape your lips. You’d rather die than give him the satisfaction, the defiant glare in your eyes stating as much as you meet his gaze.

"Say it," he drawls, his voice is sending shivers down your spine. Four eyes bore into you as Sukuna seems to grow larger with each passing second, his presence is suffocating.

Yet here you are, as helpless as an infant, yet as brave as a tiger whilst you shake your head in his iron grip. You don’t even have time to blink before your face slams into the cold, unforgiving floor. Your cheek is pressed into a vile mixture of dried blood and water as a thunderstorm rages above, the temple trembling beneath its wrath.

You feel numb, the groan that escapes from deep within your lungs barely registering in your mind since you're fully overwhelmed by the high-pitched ringing that clouds your senses. But the violent tugging on your body snaps you back to this living nightmare as four hands tear at the flimsy fabric Sukuna dares to call a dress, leaving you naked and vulnerable under his cruel gaze.

Your tears mix with the blood running down the side of your temple as you stare up at him in horror. You wouldn’t even be able to attempt to cover yourself, your limbs feeling as though they don’t belong to you as they are pressed to the ground by two strong hands.

“Look at me.”

You comply, your eyes slowly focusing on the blurry demon as you blink the tears away. “Stop, please…” you hear your own voice, shaky and weak, yet apparently utterly entertaining to Sukuna, judging by the grin etched on his face.

He guides your nimble fingers over his muscular body, across his black markings and prominent pecs, as his lips graze your ear. “If you’d stop being so ungrateful… you could enjoy all of this,” his faint whisper tickles your neck, his hot breath contrasting with the icy cold water on your back. “Just say you’re mine. Admit it.”

“I’m not yours.” You don’t even have time to groan as a third hand snakes around your throat and applies pressure to your airways, nails tearing through the first layer of your skin and continuing to dig deeper into your flesh.

“You’re mine. You have been mine from the moment you were born, you dumb whore!” he snarls, fingers forcing their way through your tangled hair, exposing your neck to his teeth. Sukuna savours every drop of your blood, every dried tear and bead of sweat before his teeth sink into your body, eliciting a defeated whine from you. Yet it’s the fourth hand applying pressure to your hip bone that has you gasping in horror, a new set of tears welling up along your lash line as you vehemently shake your head in denial.

“You’ve been mine ever since your village offered me my soulmate, isn’t that right?” he breathes, the devilish grin returning to his lips as he leans in to kiss you harshly. His tongue invades your mouth, spreading the taste of your blood to every corner before he pulls back, leaving only a thin string of saliva connecting your bodies— as faint and delicate as your bond to this monster.

“They threw you at my feet. Offered me my toy to play with in exchange for protection.” His lips trail between your breasts, greedily pressing against your heaving chest and staining your skin as Sukuna’s journey takes him further south.

“Dumb as they are. As if I’d let anyone live who treats my property with such shame.” Sukuna traces the lines of your bondmark; the action almost seems adoring by how gentle his touch is before his nail redraws the lines in red.

“You’re mine,” his eyes snap up to your face. “You’ll forever be mine. With every reincarnation, I’ll find you, claim you, and break you until you’re my queen again.”

Your voice finds its way back to you in this moment, as you cry out from the pain Sukuna inflicts on your body, his words reminding you of the horrors you witnessed that day.

How your mother dressed you in her finest dress and let you play princess, promising you the world as soon as you found your soulmate. Only for your father to push you to your knees in front of a demon, a curse—him. Sukuna Ryomen.

And your eyes saw the lines on his side as the top of his yukata pooled around his hips. The same devious mark you had on your body ever since you were a baby.

You were cursed. The entire village treated you like a lesser being, like filth and a secret, promised to stay hidden until they could rid themselves of you—all because of legends passed down for hundreds of years about the only weakness the King of Curses holds.

They all too willingly tore the beautiful dress off your body and gave the devil not what he came for, but what he most desired.

“I don't want to be a monster’s queen,” your bold statement makes Sukuna’s face deform into a hideous mask, violent laughter erupting from deep within his chest at the fighting spirit you try to uphold. “Were you not dreaming of the day your soulmate would find you like all those other pathetic little mortals do?” The words are nothing but a murmur; Sukuna doesn’t even make it sound like a question, and he leaves no room for your reply either—not when black nails dig into the fat of your thighs or strong hands pin down your wrists to the floor. “I understand, you must be claimed, to learn to appreciate your life at my feet, pet.”

The most disgusting part of this moment is not the grimace looming above you, or the horror in Sukuna’s eyes, no, it's the feeling of a wet, hot tongue lapping at your cunt while this abnormality holds you spread open like you’re on a serving plate.

Sukuna sees the aversion on your face, the way your eyes squint before you have to look away once the pleasure starts to feel undeniable as he fucks you open on his tongue. The squelching is so lewd, you can only cry over yourself.

“Stop your miserable act, whore,” Sukuna punctuates his words with a deep thrust of the thick tongue from his stomach, forcing a moan from you whether you like it or not.

The hand around your small wrists hurts, feeling as if Sukuna wants to actively burn his fingerprints into your skin as his eyes stare into the depths of your soul. You know where his tugging leads, know what you feel when the hot, sticky sensation meets the palm of your hand. Encased between your much smaller and Sukuna’s own large palm are his cocks. Your whimpers are unending as he forces your hand to drag over their shafts, his maniacal stare into your disgusted face unwavering. How dare you continue to insult him like that? You should feel grateful for his attraction towards you.

You whine the moment your head hits the floor once more, Sukuna easily pressing your form against the stone-cold ground, finally forcing your eyes to snap up to look directly into his red gaze.

There is no such thing as tenderness to be found in them, no love, no sympathy. The concept of soulmates is nothing but a nightmare for you.

“You’re hurting me…” you whisper in desperation, yet Sukuna only basks in this newfound tenderness in your eyes as fat tears stream down your cheeks.

“Then stop denying me!” Sukuna growls right next to your ear. His dominance and your own fear send shivers down your spine, rendering you limp beneath him.

The rough pads of his fingers squish your face beneath his grip—disabling you from facing anything but him. “You could have another fulfilled life…” Is this tenderness you see in his eyes? Love he held for the yous from the past? It can't be. Not him. “But you leave me no choice.” In one fell swoop, you find yourself back on your knees, your face brought up right in front of the tips of his cocks.

The cold flooring hurts your joints, making you wince once more, but your sounds are all the same to Sukuna—simply confirmation of his influence on your body. In pleasure or pain? Who cares.

However, he notices the slight shake of your head. It's causing his grip on your hair to tighten, eliciting another loud whine from you.

Your dainty fingers try to ease his grip to no avail. “Please, I don't de—” but the loud gulp of your throat cuts off any protest. The thick tip of Sukuna’s shaft spreads your mouth beyond your imagination, the salty flavour of his pre-cum coating your tongue and messing with your taste buds before he prods at the entrance to your throat, muscles trembling around his infiltration. You struggle to keep the choking at bay, swallowing back any disgusting liquids threatening to crawl back up.

Sukuna groans in satisfaction. His darkened eyes stare down at your weak figure, admiring your hollowed cheeks and stretched lips. His thumb sweetly swipes over your cheekbone, followed by a slap to the same area. When he pulls back, you choke up a mixture of nasty fluids, but there is no time to recover due to the way he forces your head to stay in place. Once more, you are overwhelmed by his length, his second needy cock now taking the spot inside your mouth. “Silence and a breedable womb are the best presents a woman can give.” As if to highlight his words, Sukuna pushes in deeper, the choked squeal of your panic drowned by his girthy cock as he holds your head in place, nails harshly digging into your scalp as he bottoms out.

His pelvis presses against your mouth and nose to further restrict your breathing. Every attempt at swallowing your saliva makes you feel his cock even more, it's almost impossible to stay conscious as Sukuna opts to abuse your throat only seconds after he enters you.

It hurts—the pistoning of his hips, the repetitive assault on your throat by his thick member, and the hateful words hitting your skin with no form of defence.

Demands to take it, to stop being weak and disgusting, are just a few of the many insults you have to endure. By now, your nails have left nasty scratches on his thighs as you desperately try to relieve some of the pain he forces on your body, while your mind isn’t sure if passing out would be the safer option for your sanity.

Tears won’t stop running down your face. The mixture of your spit, tears, and his arousal creates a nearly disgusting flavour in your mouth, causing you to gag further on his cock.

“Get your act together,” Sukuna bites. At this point, it actually feels like he is ripping strands of your hair out due to his harshness.

But you can’t—it’s impossible, especially once you feel him twitch at the back of your throat, prodding against the muscles of your pharynx. The second your tongue can nearly trace the load of cum being pumped through his shaft, Sukuna pulls out. You didn’t have time to notice him stroking his second cock, couldn’t register fast enough the fate you were about to meet as one of his hands holds your head in place.

Sukuna’s deep moan rings through the echoing hall and sears into your memory while the white-hot seed lands on your face and chest, tainting your figure with his cum.

It’s the most humiliating way of claiming you.

Sukuna kneels down to be at eye level with you, proudly taking in his all-white masterpiece before his thumb swipes part of his load off your cheek and holds it in front of your lips.

You glare at him, the hatred in your eyes a challenge he will fuck out of you. “Dumb little bird,” he murmurs while smearing his cum over your tightly sealed lips before hoisting you up and over his shoulder in an instant.

Sometimes it is best to show patience. Most of the time, it is better to teach through pain. Your fate for the night shall be to learn to love your throne, positioned on top of Sukuna’s lap, stuffed beyond your capabilities until either your mind or your body gives out first.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

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lovelyghst · 1 year ago

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craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3

#i got carried away #cod mw #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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lieslab · 5 months ago

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It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend finds you celebrating your birthday alone in the dark.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I'm choking on nostalgia at 1 am and if I'm suffering, I'm afraid I'm going to make you suffer with me too. Happy birthday, celebrate your birthdays, or I'll cry.

_ _ _

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”

The lyrics were murky as your brain tried to remember the song from so long ago. With the light on above the kitchen sink, your view of the area was pretty dim. In front of you, a perfectly wrapped cupcake was topped with sprinkles and a single lit candle.

Still tucked in your pajamas, you stood beside the kitchen island and sang quietly to yourself. The small flame reflected in your eyes and once you finished the song, the dark kitchen went back to silence. Your eyes remained on the flickering flame.

The wax of the single black candle slowly began to ooze down the side. In the back bedroom, your boyfriend was sound asleep. Han had been out cold since he came home a few hours ago. Another day of practice and recording left him exhausted.

In your head, it was fortunate. Your birthday was today, but the truth? You never had plans to celebrate it. What was the point, anyway? Another year of growing older. Another year where you’re forced to confront that you’re creeping closer and closer to death.

Days tick by, but the thought haunts your subconscious. One of these days, it just might be your last and you’ll never know until it happens. Your anxiety surrounding death had been growing lately.

Birthdays weren’t special to begin with. Birthdays were somewhat enjoyable as a kid. There was cake and ice cream. A few presents and a signed card.

And then you grew up.

The presents became less. The cakes disappeared. The few friendships dissolved and that was that. If anything, birthdays were just a painful reminder of how lonely you felt. Was there really anything to celebrate anymore?

The wrinkles deepened and the mistakes of the past weighed on your heart heavily. Three-hundred and sixty-five days had passed since this time last year. So many years from when you were born into this world and it still felt pointless; just another nail in the coffin.

“What are you doing?” Han’s sleepy voice broke through your thoughts. Across the way, his hands wiped at his sleepy eyes. He yawned and his attention went down to the flickering flame. “You made yourself a cupcake at this hour?”

“Um…” Your head shook and you leaned forward to blow out the candle. “Something like that, I suppose.”

Finally more awake, his half-lidded eyes met yours. He scanned the sink behind you for dirty dishes, but there wasn’t any. The scent of cake didn’t linger in the air. It must have been something you bought from a store.

“A cupcake for a midnight snack is a weird choice, isn’t it? I’ve heard that sugar can give you nightmares before bed.”

An ache squeezed your hollow heart at his words. You longed for the flavors to burst on your tongue, but instead you nodded. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I’ll probably just save it for dessert tomorrow after lunch or something.”

The empty plastic container that used to hold the cupcake had been placed on the back counter. You spun around to grab it and blinked rapidly, trying to hide your tears. Han didn’t remember your birthday, of course, he didn’t.

It wasn’t something you could be mad about. It’s not like you told him about your birthday. In fact, when he brought it up, you switched the topic. Your birthday felt so unimportant and dull, you tried to forget about it most of the time.

But this birthday? Nostalgia bit into your heart this year. You longed for rich icing and moist cake. You wanted to recall the way your laugh sounded higher-pitched in childhood. If you chewed and squeezed your eyes shut, you were sure you could remember your mother back when you were only seven.

When her hair was its original color and time hadn’t worn her down. Back when her joints were younger and she didn’t mention pain all the time. Her hair was longer and life seemed brighter.

To a time when your father seemed to notice you more. When the future was bright and sitting on top of his shoulders made you squeal with delight. Up there, anything seemed possible and with his hands supporting your legs, you could do anything.

Time is cruel and adulthood will rob you of everything you hold dear if you let it. Sharp teeth rip bites from your heart. Relationships fade and without work on either end, the distance between people grows like wild ivy. Phone calls dwindle and the steady texts disappear.

Your parents become strangers. Friendships you knew like the back of your hand become foreign. Everything crumbles and then you’re left holding onto, not people, but the memories. Memories are just daggers to a beating heart.

Things feel so achievable when you're young. Birthdays are some of the most exciting times of a child’s life. Dreams were so easy to accomplish back then, the sky was the limit, but this was now. Your star-dusted dreams died out so long ago, you couldn’t see them anymore.

Han didn’t notice you reaching up to wipe a tear, but he noticed the rainbow sprinkles on the cupcake. He knew a lot of things about you and he knew that you didn’t like sprinkles on your cupcakes. You claimed they were too childish and yet, they were scattered along top of swirled icing.

When it finally clicked, his eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait.” You spun around and his head snapped to you. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does! What do you mean?” He rushed across the tile floor and grabbed you. “Happy birthday! I can’t believe I missed out on telling you that. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe birthdays are just stupid.”

You pulled yourself from his grip and grabbed the cupcake with two hands. You didn’t get far when he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and gently tugged you back to face him. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stayed on the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at those soft brown eyes. Not tonight, not with all the jumbled emotions swarming you. If your eyes found him, you’d fall apart in seconds.

“What?”

“Do you ever think about how pointless they are? So? I’m a year older, who cares?” You tried to squirm from his grip.

“I care.” His hand reached up, gently grabbed your chin, and he made you face him. “I care an awful lot about your birthday. You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

His cheeks puffed up in a sad smile. “You made it. Look at you go. Isn’t that something worth celebrating? Something to be proud of? You’ve done so much.”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“You’ve done everything. You’ve survived every challenge and you learned a lot. You discovered new things about yourself. You exist and that itself should be celebrated.”

Your bottom lip quivered and you blinked rapidly. Your voice came out wobbly. “You’re not supposed to make me cry on my birthday.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to make your boyfriend cry on your birthday either, but it’s happening.” His thumb reached up to catch a stray tear. Just as your tear fell, his own soon followed.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because it makes me sad that you don’t view yourself like I do. You’re so precious to me and I hate that you can’t see the good. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated. Haven’t you ever had a surprise party or a party with all of your friends?”

“Not really. I’ve had stuff with one or two friends, but never a surprise party. I didn’t have a large group of friends. My birthday parties were themed around my family and then I started to grow up. Families don’t care about birthdays once you reach a certain age.”

His head shook, but you nodded. “That’s how it was with my family,” you continued. “Birthdays are just a waste of time and-” You gently lifted the cupcake. “Money. Besides, sprinkles are childish.”

It tore his heart to shreds. In the dim light, you looked defeated. Your hair was a mess and brown bags curled beneath your eyes. Sadness pooled in the corners of your eyes and stayed there.

He reached out and pulled the cupcake from your cupped hands. Setting it back on the counter, he hurried over to grab a lighter from a distant junk drawer. His name left your lips, but he ignored you.

He came back to the table and the lighter flickered to life. The sparking flame reappeared and relit the candle on the cupcake. He stepped back and gestured to you to step forward. “Go ahead and make a wish.”

“But I-”

“Make a wish.”

You stared at him for a moment. Wet streaks lined his cheeks, but the way he looked at you in that moment, it inflated your heart again. The flutter of hope in his eyes. The way the flame danced in his pupils. His hands kept gesturing for you to blow out the candle. His usual smile still tugged at one side of his mouth.

You shut your eyes, stepped up, and sent out a single stream of air. The flame was there and then gone, just like that. Before you reopened your eyes, Han clapped excitedly. “Happy birthday, baby!”

You squealed as you were grabbed by your waist. “Han Jisung!” He giggled with glee and slung you over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“No can do, we’ve got places to go, people to go see, and a birthday to celebrate. The night is still so young and we’re not going to waste it.”

“It’s midnight!”

“It’s basically happy hour somewhere. So first I was thinking that we should go get Minho. We can use him to break into Seungmin and Felix’s dorm. We can steal Felix’s video games and while we do that, Minho can draw a mustache on Seungmin with a permanent marker. In the morning, it’ll all be Lix’s fault.”

“That’s cruel.”

“And the entertainment from pranks lasts forever. So then we’ll sneak into Chan’s and Jeongin’s place and raid their food stash. We’ll end the night in Changbin and Hyunjin’s dorm. You can get sappy with Hyunjin while we eat snacks. Changbin can sing happy birthday at the top of his lungs.”

When he put you down outside your apartment’s front door, he grimaced. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you scowled at him. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Uh…”

“It’s perfect, let’s go.” You looped your hand through his and began to tug him into Seoul’s darkness. “But since it’s my birthday, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Hey, I thought you didn’t like your birthday.”

“It turns out, I like it when it can be used as a get out of jail free card.”

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unintentionalseductress · 2 months ago

Text

The Spaces In Between

Warnings: MDNI, sex, threesome, DVP, creampies, cum tasting, mentions of death, angst, Zayne mildly bullying Dawnbreaker Summary: A celestial event strands you in Dawnbreaker's reality. With him and Zayen in such close quarters, things get a litte wild. A/n: This blog used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Hello everyone! Here is it, as promised! I will say, this took way longer than expected. Due to some not so fun real life stuff, I had to balance out writing this in between but it's here. Not really proofread.

A streak of moonlight peeks through the cracked glass windowpane, getting lost in the brightness of the well-lit living room. You shuffle uncomfortably on the sofa as your eyes flick back and forth between the two men on opposite sides of the coffee table. Your mind tries to rationalize the situation, attempting to convince you that stranger situations have happened, yet none come to mind as you wait in an achingly familiar living room that you simultaneously have and haven’t been in before.

Zayne eyes the man facing him with suspicion, his slim fingertips interlocked contemplatively as though trying to judge his next move. The other man eyes him with an identical expression of cautious appraisal. His resemblance to Zayne was slightly unnerving, from the part of his hair down to the last strand of whiskey bleeding into the green of his irises.

His clothes were all black, save for the tie, which had small white polka dots on it, and his brow was furrowed as he looked at you and Zayne. You clear your throat and attempt to break the silence.

“Sir,” you say, and the man turns his head in your direction. “I’m very sorry that we’ve intruded on your house. But you must understand, we’re just as confused as you are.” You look at Zayne, who imperceptibly nods his head in agreement. Taking encouragement from this, you continue.

“It’s all such a blur. See, Zayne and I were out, trying to look at the lunar eclipse.” You nod towards the window, where the faintest glimpse of the moon was visible, tinged slightly red from the eclipse. “And the next second, we were at your door. Now, I’m not sure why Zayne’s fingerprint was able to open it, but to be honest, this house bears an uncanny resemblance to his.”

You laugh, realizing you sounded crazy, then deciding this night couldn’t get any worse, you attempt a jab at humor. “You two don’t know each other, do you? I mean, you could pass as twins.” You smile, then falter as both men stare stonily at each other. A moment passes before Zayne speaks.

“Know isn’t the right word,” he says in a strained voice, keeping his eyes trained on his doppelganger.

“Agreed,” the man says, his voice identical to Zayne’s intonations. “If anything, we are a figment of each other’s imaginations.”

“Huh?” Confusion scrunches your face.

“I don’t see him often, but he sometimes appears in my dreams.” Zayne’s shoulders are tense, and his jaw is tight. “You’re called Dawnbreaker, correct?”

At the mention of the name, the man’s head jerks up sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Where did you hear that from?”

“That’s what the people call you, whenever you appear in my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Dawnbreaker scoffs. “Or nightmares?”

Zayne’s hand forms a fist, and you look at him empathetically. “Zayne.” You cover his hand with yours, and strangely, Dawnbreaker’s gaze briefly flicks to your interlaced fingers before returning to your face.

“You’ve been having nightmares?”

Zayne sighs. “Not all the time. But when I do have a nightmare, he’s always there.” Zayne jerks his chin at Dawnbreaker.

“What happens in your nightmares, Zayne?” you ask probingly, hoping he wouldn’t brush you off. Zayne’s eyes finally make contact with yours and there’s worry in their depths.

“It’s the same thing. I’ll be doing normal things, like going to work, texting you, and planning an evening together. But I can feel him, right at the periphery. Watching. Then the point of view changes. I’m no longer looking at things with my own eyes but with his.” Zayne looks aggrieved as he recounts his nightmares.

“And each time, I hear begging voices, asking him to help them with their pain. And you killed them.” Zayne’s words are accusatorily and flung at Dawnbreaker, who remains impassive. A chill runs down your spine. You look at the man who could have been a clone of your compassionate boyfriend, and it seems impossible. This man couldn’t be a killer. Could he?

Sadness gathers in Dawnbreaker’s eyes, and he averts his gaze. “I did it to ease their pain. Little can be done when the transformation has gotten that bad.”

“Transformation?” Morbid curiosity fills you, and you look at Dawnbreaker beseechingly, waiting for him to defend himself against Zayne’s accusation.

Dawnbreaker’s expression is unyielding as he assesses Zayne. “It must be so easy for you to judge when you live in an ideal world where Wanderers aren’t a source of infection.”

“Judge?” Zayne’s eyes narrow. “I’d hardly call killing people needing judgment.”

“They were in pain. In your world, your happy, safe world, Wanderers aren’t causes of illness. They can cause destruction, sure, but do they bring disease to your city, like they did to mine?” Dawnbreaker gestures outside his window, where you can just make out the grim silhouette of his version of Linkon City.

“Wanderers don’t carry disease-” Zayne begins, but Dawnbreaker cuts him off.

“They do in my world. And there’s no cure. Once you’re infected, you begin to change into a Wanderer. The process is painful. There’s no slowing it down. You think I’m killing humans for sport? I did those people a merciful favor.”

Zayne is silen,t but it’s obvious he’s shaken by this information. His gaze wanders to Dawnbreaker’s hands, which bear faint, discolored, lines that run across the backs before being lost to the hem of his jacket sleeves. Uncomfortably, he rubs the back of his neck, giving himself time to think.

“If you could end someone’s pain, wouldn’t you do it? Knowing they will suffer, will lose their humanity once the transformation is complete, isn’t a clean death better than being hunted like a beast?”

You consider his words in stunned silence, shuffling awkwardly next to Zayne.

“I don’t turn up in your dreams intentionally.” Dawnbreaker’s voice cuts through the quiet, and both you and Zayne look at him sharply.

“Oh?” Zayne asks with a hint of disbelief.

“It’s out of my hands. I dream when you dream. And your dreams…” Dawnbreaker sighs, as though wondering if he should admit this or not. “Your dreams…are my only respite.” There’s longing in his tone, and you feel a stab of sympathy for him.

Zayne blinks, clearly at a loss for words. “Respite?” he asks, disconcerted.

“Yes. Similar to how you see things through my eyes, I can also see your world through yours.” Dawnbreaker’s expression is so solemn that it makes your heart clench. If Zayne had ever looked that way, you’d instantly be pulling him into a hug. It took every ounce of willpower for you to not comfort Dawnbreaker, because despite it all, you didn’t know him, no matter how much he looked like Zayne.

“I see you going about your day at Akso Hospital. Greeting your coworkers. By the way, I’m also a doctor.” Dawnbreaker adds this last bit of information as an afterthought. He hesitates before continuing. “And…you and I…bear the same name.”

Zayne’s lips part, but no sound comes out as he processes this tidbit. Unperturbed, Dawnbreaker continues.

“Before I was called Dawnbreaker, I was known as Dr. Zayne. Your dreams…allow me to see what my world could have been like if the Wanderers hadn’t caused a plague.”

A pang of sympathy punches you in the gut, and it’s clear that Dawnbreaker’s words are affecting Zayne too. His eyes have softened as he regards what has been said.

“I’m essentially an alternate version of you, Zayne,” Dawnbreaker continues. “Now, I’m not sure how you ended up in my world. It hardly matters. But, may I say something, if you’ll allow it?”

Zayne nods, listening intently.

“Everything you have in your life. Your job, your friends. Her.” Dawnbreaker gestures towards you, and your heart skips a beat. “Don’t take them for granted. You have everything I can only wish for.”

His face carries a haunting expression that makes you ache deep within. What was it in his voice? Regret? Grief? Anguish? They all seemed to mix into something unique as he articulates his tale, like a little songbird vocalizing over a graveyard.

“I know at least in this world, I have to walk my path alone. I will never know the peace you get to experience every day. I didn’t intend to don this mantle of Dawnbreaker. But I was given very little choice in the matter. I didn’t want to be a killer. But knowing what happens to captured Wanderers that were formerly humans…they’re taken away, experimented on, before being stripped for parts, and disposed of like garbage. At least with what I do…”

Dawnbreaker reflexively opens his palm and stares at it, wondering, before continuing in a more resolved voice. “I’m able to grant them a dignified death. Their bodies remain intact and human enough that their families can give them a proper funeral.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m no hero. But I believe this is the best outcome they could have asked for.”

You swallow, feeling a lump in your throat as you do so. Zayne had gone quiet, his mouth a grim line. Beneath the shock and skepticism, you see a familiar flicker of empathy come into his face, the kind he reserved for critical patients without a positive outcome. Somehow, you felt like an outsider as you watched the two men in silence. There was an inexplicable bond between them, and it felt like in the game of circumstance, Dawnbreaker had drawn the short end of the stick. Their roles could have been easily reversed.

Then what? Would it be Zayne sitting opposite you while Dawnbreaker held your hand? Even their scars were identical, each dip of mottled skin exactly placed. You felt for the poor man, trapped in this nightmare that he couldn’t escape. Zayne, at least, got a reprieve when he woke up. You wondered what happened in Dawnbreaker’s dreams on the nights Zayne didn’t have nightmares. Did he sleep dreamlessly? Was that more blissful than peering into a world where it felt like Zayne got everything that he didn’t dare to even think of?

You’re interrupted from your train of thought by Dawnbreaker who suddenly stands up. “It’s late,” he says shortly.

“Are you kicking us out?” Zayne asks tartly, as though he’d been preparing for the boot. Dawnbreaker tsks and shakes his head no.

“Don’t be ridiculous. At this time of night? The Wanderers would pick your bones clean before you even made it to the end of the road.” He looks conflicted, then seemingly finding no other justification, says, “You can stay in the guestroom until you figure out how to get back.”

“Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to intrude.” The words slip out of your lips, and Dawnbreaker looks at you with such intensity that you flush.

“I’d rather not have my doppelganger wandering the roads. It could get very difficult to explain. Stay here for the time being. We’ll figure this out.”

“Thank you,” Zayne says the words with quiet sincerity. “I understand this isn’t ideal.”

“It’s not,” Dawnbreaker agrees easily, and it almost makes you laugh. “Come, I’ll show you where the guestroom is.”

Zayne raises an eyebrow, and this time, you fail to stifle the giggle. Clearly, being told where the guestroom was in his own house was pushing Zayne to his limit. Dawnbreaker’s expression remains neutral but you can’t help but notice the redness in his ears, the same reaction Zayne has when he’s embarrassed.

“We can find it by ourselves, thank you,” Zayne says magnanimously, and Dawnbreaker nods awkwardly.

“Well, good night then.” Zayne takes your hand and starts to lead you away, and you steal a glance over your shoulder at Dawnbreaker who watches you with a look of longing.

“Sleep well,” he says, and that’s the last thing you hear from him before Zayne closes and locks the bedroom door.

Once inside the privacy of the room, Zayne sinks onto the mattress, covering his face with his hands. Sensing the stress he’s carrying, you sit next to him and knead his shoulders, hoping to relieve some of his tension.

“Zayne,” you murmur soothingly, trying to get as close to him as possible. He removes his hands, and you’re startled to see the beginnings of anxiety settling into them, his pupils dilating.

There’s a tinge of distress in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t remember when I first started seeing Dawnbreaker in my dreams. But each time, all I can remember is being scared. I never imagined that I’d meet him face-to-face. I thought he was something that only existed in my imagination. Like the boogeyman that small children believe is hiding in their closet. I didn’t think he was real.”

You feel your heart clench at the sight of Zayne like this and embrace him, pressing into his back as your arms wrap around his chest. “Yes, I can imagine how disturbing this must be for you.”

“It was one thing to have him exist only in my dreams. Now I find out he’s not only real, but also an alternate version of me? He has my name, he lives in my house, he’s even a doctor. What next? Is he dating an alternate version of you in this world?”

You frown, trying to imagine what you might be like in this dimension. “He didn’t mention an alternate version of me. And Zayne,” you add in a quieter voice, “I don’t think he has anyone in his life.”

Zayne contemplates your words. “What makes you say that?”

“All that talk about not taking the people in your life for granted, including me. I think he’s been by himself for quite some time. It can’t be easy, living with that kind of loneliness. You had Greyson and Yvonne, and even Dr. Noah to talk to. I think Dawnbreaker is alone. Like, alone.” You emphasize the word, and after a moment, Zayne nods his head in understanding.

“That part about him doing the mercy killings for humans. Do you think it’s true that they turn into Wanderers in this world?”

“I don’t see why he would lie about that.”

Broodingly, Zayne continues to speak as though he’s trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his mind. “It must be awful for him, though. Being a doctor yet unable to save all those people. I know if I were in that situation, I’d definitely find it weighing on my conscience.”

“You feel bad for him.” You state the obvious plainly.

“Of course I do. But at the same time, he makes me uneasy.”

You nod, then press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Well, we’re stuck here. Worrying doesn’t make any sense. And it doesn’t look like he means us any harm. We’ll find our way out of here.”

Zayne hums, then covers your hands with his. You smile wanly, and Zayne feels the movement against his skin, your warm breath steadying him. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

You nod and allow Zayne to pull you under the covers, his hand resting on your back as he draws as close as he can.

“I’m glad I’m not alone,” he mumbles against your hair, and after some time, Zayne manages to fall asleep.

You, on the other hand, struggle. Unwilling to pull away from Zayne’s grasp, you remain as still as you can, but your mind is rolling over the recent events in your head like a washing machine. You understood Zayne’s initial intimidation when it came to Dawnbreaker. No one ever wanted to meet the object of their nightmares. But at the same time, you couldn’t stop thinking about Dawnbreaker’s existence.

Some part of you pitied him. You wondered what it must feel like to be the person people find to meet their ultimate end. And with no one to talk to, hiding his identity, and pretending he was a normal person, how was Dawnbreaker even functioning on the whole?

Then there was the fact that he and Zane were absolute physical copies of each other. It was a double whammy, at least for you, to see the face of the person you loved so dearly in so much torment. When you had met Zayne, you hadn’t imagined loving anyone else as fiercely as you loved him. Zayne was yours, inextricably, irrevocably, inexplicably. You understood killing, because deep down, you knew you’d kill for Zayne. Anything that tried to harm him would need to go through you. But how were you supposed to protect him, console him, from himself?

Dawnbreaker didn’t seem like a threat, but the fear in Zayne’s body was real. You hear the sound of his peaceful breathing, and your heart constricts. The most precious thing in your life was asleep in your arms. And his twin was right outside that door.

You’re not sure how long you were awake, but soon a fragile light filtered through the curtains. Dawn had broken on Dawnbreaker’s house. You carefully pull away from Zayne’s embrace and pad out of the room.

You almost jump in shock when you see Dawnbreaker seated on the sofa with a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes look at you over wire-rimmed glasses, appearing vexed.

“Why do you keep reacting like I don’t live here?” he asks dryly, setting his coffee down. You blush, realizing he was right, although you couldn’t quite explain why you were so jittery around him; he hadn’t shown any behavior thus far to do so.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Zayne’s asleep in the bedroom, and then I find you in here. It’s all very uncanny.”

Dawnbreaker nods then gestures at the living room. “Would you like to sit?”

You hesitate, then gingerly sit down at the same spot you were in last night.

“Why are you up so early? Don’t tell me you’re a night owl.”

“An astute observation.” Dawnbreaker’s lips twitch, and he sips more coffee. “I have an early shift at the hospital.”

“Ah. You and Zayne are alike in that manner.” You glance out the glass doors that lead to the balcony. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up and he’s already left for work. Barely makes a sound.”

“How considerate of him. I imagine it would be more difficult for him to leave if you’re awake.”

You frown at the comment. “Why’s that?”

Dawnbreaker seems to consider his words before carefully continuing. “Well, I think that if you were awake, he’d be very tempted to stay and talk. Or perhaps do nothing and just hold your hand. It’s not easy to leave behind the person you love, no matter how short or temporary it may be. At least, that’s how I’d feel.”

As the last few words leave his lips, Dawnbreaker’s eyes widen, and he hastily busies himself with his coffee cup. You observe a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his ears.

He drains his cup then straightens. Avoiding eye contact, he briskly says, “I’m not sure what my schedule looks like. But I’ll definitely be back tonight. There’s food in the fridge. And please don’t go outside. This isn’t the Linkon City you’re used to.”

Before you could respond, Dawnbreaker had already grabbed his coat and was at the door. It clicks shut, and you’re left in silence, wondering what had just happened.

The day was spent in a whirlwind of thought. Towards the evening, your brain felt like a dried sponge left in the sun for too long, wrinkled and desiccated, as you went through the events with Zayne again.

“Zayne, please,” you begged, looking for a break. “We have talked and talked and talked, and I can’t think of anything else to add.” You lie back on the sofa, shielding your face from the rays of the setting sun.

“You made me try resonating with random things in the house, hoping it would cause a tear in between the dimensions, and nothing worked. As remarkable as the situation is, Dawnbreaker’s house is a normal house, with perfectly normal items.”

Nonplussed, Zayne looks at your supine form and sighs. “You’re right, as much as I hate to admit it. We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s refresh our minds. Would you like some tea?”

Zayne walks into the kitchen to boil the kettle. “What time did Dawnbreaker say he’d be back?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. He didn’t mention.”

“Hmph. If he got pulled into a last-minute surgery…” His eyes flick to the large clock mounted on the wall. “We can forget about seeing him before midnight.”

Right on cue, you hear a ping from the front door as it unlocks, revealing Dawnbreaker, who’s holding several bags.

“Did you go shopping?” You ask him as he sets them down on the living room carpet. He nods, his glasses slightly askew. He sniffs the air curiously.

“Tea? How delightful,” he comments before seeing Zayne standing before the stove. Zayne raises an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I know how to brew tea,” he says patronizingly, and Dawnbreaker scoffs, but doesn’t comment. Even though Dawnbreaker posed them no threat, Zayne still seemed to be wary of the man.

“I picked up a few things for both of you.” Dawnbreaker hands you the bags, and you peek inside, spying toiletries and some clothes.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully.

“I had to guess some of your sizes, so my apologies if some things don’t fit quite right.”

Zayne carries a tray laden with 3 cups of steaming tea and puts them on the coffee table. When Dawnbreaker stares at him, Zayne smirks, some of his usual sass coming back.

“Despite our introductions, I’m not a barbarian.” He pushes a cup towards Dawnbreaker, who sips it with dignity.

“You said it, not me,” he says stiffl,y and Zayne rolls his eyes before settling next to you. He rummages through the bags.

“I’d Venmo you but…I don’t think my bank supports interdimensional transactions,” he quips, and miraculously, Dawnbreaker smiles at him. You feel hope blossom in your chest as you see the small interaction, and there’s a brief moment of peace, until Zayne looks further into the bag and his eyes darken.

“Why did you buy panties for my girlfriend?” Zayne asks in quiet anger as he tears his gaze away from the bag, glaring at Dawnbreaker.

Dawnbreaker calmly puts down the teacup, although he looks chagrined. You, on the other hand, would have turned a brilliant shade of red.

“He didn’t!” You look at Dawnbreaker. “Did you?”

With an effort, Dawnbreaker manages to compose his voice into a tone of practicality. “Zayne, be serious. It’s an essential item she’ll need. I wasn’t exactly out buying thongs.”

“Ok, stop it! Both of you.” You snatch the bag from Zayne’s hand, blushing furiously, but you weren’t sure who you were upset with. You direct your words at both of them.

“Dawnbreaker, thank you, but you should have asked first. And Zayne,” you round on him, and Zayne’s eyes widen at your demeanor. “Thank you for being chivalrous, but I did need new underwear anyway. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’d rather not be here if all you’re going to do is try to one-up each other!”

And with that, you flee, but not before you hear Zayne address the elephant in the room.

“How did you know what kind to buy anyway?” His voice is dripping with distaste, and you freeze in the hallway where they can’t see you. Dawnbreaker responds after a gap in a constrained voice.

“You always dream about the same ones. It wasn’t hard.”

You cover your mouth to muffle the groan of humiliation that leaves your throat before disappearing into the guestroom. After what felt like an eternity, you hear the door being cracked, and Zayne enters. He looks sheepishly at you while you stare crossly at him from the bed.

“I’m sorry if I overreacted.” He mumbles and gathers you in his arms. You’re about to reply snarkily, but feel the bite drain out of you as his chin rests on top of your head.

“I thought you’d come sooner. Were you guys still talking after I left?”

Zayne’s embrace tightens suddenly, and you look at him curiously.

“What?”

Zayne looks conflicted as to whether or not to tell you, and you give him a little shake. “C’mon! Nothing could top being given panties from a stranger.”

He runs a hand down the back of his neck. “You might be surprised.”

You freeze. “What?”

Zayne looks uncomfortable, his eyes darting about the room as though trying to decide what to fix his gaze on. You push him away and flash him a warning look. Giving up, he divulges the information.

“I was asking him what other…things he saw in my dreams.”

You freeze. “...Oh.” Dreading the answer, you ask anyway. “And?”

Zayne looks ashamed as he admits the words. “Well, I dream of you. A lot to be honest.” He smiles reassuringly, but it’s feeble in quality. “And sometimes those dreams aren’t…PG.”

Your heartbeat quickens, and you avert your eyes, although you didn’t find this surprising. “Well, that’s normal, right? Couples sometimes dream…spicy things about each other.”

“Yes, but…You’re completely naked in my dreams. And I’ve dreamt of us making love, of…giving you oral.” Zayne’s face is a brilliant shade of siren red, and he fiddles with the edge of the blanket. “And Dawnbreaker has unknowingly been privy to those dreams.”

You feel all the color drain from your face. “What?” You point at the closed door. “Dawnbreaker has seen me naked?”

Zayne nods emphatically, and you cover your face in shame, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

“Oh my god! That’s so…so…” You struggle to think of a word.

“Violating?” Zayne suggests, and you nod vigorously.

“Yes! I mean…that’s so disturbing, watching your dreams, those dreams, like it’s some kind of adult video! How can I face him? How-” You cut off abruptly as you notice Zayne’s lacking demeanor.

“Why aren’t you angrier?” You ask, and there’s conflict in his expression.

“I completely understand your reaction. And it’s valid, 100% warranted. I felt the exact way you’re feeling right now when he told me. However…” His voice trails, and you press him.

“Yes?”

“I genuinely don’t think he did it on purpose. I mean…he has no control over it. He only saw it because I was dreaming it. And it’s difficult to wake up from a dream. You get what I’m saying?”

You take a moment to consider, feeling chills ripple down your body at the thought that a man you had met less than a day ago knew intimately how your body looked. You cross your arms, as though trying to cover yourself, like Dawnbreaker could somehow see you right now.

“Dawnbreaker and I spoke at length, and he explained himself and his situation. He doesn’t mean any harm. It just so happens to be a set of rare and unique circumstances.” Zayne reaches out to pull you back against him, and you do so willingly.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About him being lonely. After our talk today, I’m starting to think you’re right. He has been on his own for quite a while.” His hand caresses your back. “I don’t like that he knows what you look like. But at the same time, it’s out of his hands.”

You hide your face in Zayne’s neck as he speaks. He sighs, and it ruffles your hair. “Just pretend it was me.”

“Excuse me?” You squawk, dumbfounded.

“I mean. Technically speaking, he is me. Perhaps, we can deal with this by pretending it was me? Does that make you feel a little better?”

You consider, and strangely enough, it does. Thinking of Dawnbreaker as an interdimensional version of Zayne made it less awkward than thinking of him as a stranger. “Yeah. It’s just another you.” Your nose settles into the slope of his shoulder, and he tenderly strokes your hair.

“For the record, I’m also very weirded out by this situation. I feel like a voyeur and an exhibitionist at the same time.”

You burst out laughing, feeling your shoulders shake with pure mirth. After all the gathering tension, it was freeing to laugh like this.“Ah, so I’m dating a pervert.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “How unfortunate.”

There’s humor in Zayne’s eyes as he pulls you closer. “I can only blame you. You bring it out in me.”

You're surprised by the fluid movement of his lips as they trail down your neck, leaving a kiss that feels like a feather was brushed against your skin. You twitch at the tickling sensation, then inhale sharply as Zayne leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “But after all that talking with Dawnbreaker. I need to know you’re mine.” His hands gently trace the contours of your body, slipping under the hem of your shirt and cupping your breasts, sending sparks of heat into your system. You don’t protest as the blood rushes into your ears, humming in your veins, coming alive under his experienced touch.

“Zayne…” His name is a whisper as you feel the familiar rise of liquid heat in your belly, and the quickening of your heartbeat.

“Nothing has made sense in the last 24 hours. But you make sense.” He sucks your neck, leaving a small, red, bruise. “I need you.”

It’s how he says it, with that tone like he’s drowning, and you’re a breath of fresh air bringing him back from the depths. You hiss as he leaves another mark.

“Sorry.” Zayne soothes the sting with a soft, wet lick. “You’re mine. No matter who’s seen you.”

Possessiveness spills into his tone, and he swipes the pads of his thumbs in circles over your pebbled nipples. Tingles begin at the tips and radiate down your spine, your limbs, and your sex. A familiar throb starts to grow between your legs, and you sigh, an uncontrollable little mewl falling from your lips.

Self-conscious, your eyes fly open, and you cover your mouth. Caught between semi-arousal and the need for decency, you glance at the closed door. “Zayne.” You cup his cheeks.

“What if Dawnbreaker hears us?” You knew the only reason you mentioned it was because you were relying on Zayne’s impressive ability to control and rein in both your flowing desires. If he wasn’t interested in maintaining decorum, your own will would be swept away like sand under the tide. Zayne’s eyes are darkening at the edges, his breath becoming ragged, and he pinches your nipples with the perfect pressure that has you squeezing your eyes shut and letting out another helpless noise of pleasure.

“Let him,” he growls, bringing a surge of stunned arousal into your belly. Zayne leans you down on the bed, lifting your shirt up to suckle. When he lets go, the little peak is moist with his spit.

“The dreams apparently don’t come with sound.”

You slept soundly that night, exhausted from Zayne’s passionate lovemaking. When you woke up, your limbs were tangled up with Zayne’s, held possessively against him while his breath fluttered your hair. Your body was covered in bite marks, and you felt your face flush as you remembered everything; the teasing touches and perfectly learned movements of his fingers as he had brought you to the edge over and over. Your reluctance to be vocal had somehow fueled his determination, and your inhibitions had all but vanished as he’d deliciously licked and nibbled every part of you until you were a mewling mess of pleasure under him.

Your body still had that wonderful ache of being used, and as you stretch, your internal muscles instinctively squeeze together as something slippery shifts inside you. Zayne had no reservations last night, his rigid length plunging into you in a sweet rhythm of ecstasy, spilling himself into you each time until your slit was messy and slick from your couplings.

It was rare to see him like this, throwing caution to the wind and letting himself finish inside you without protection. Your stomach growled noisily, and you realized you hadn’t eaten last night.

The clock on the wall showed that it was around 5:30 in the morning. Early enough that Dawnbreaker might not be up yet. You couldn’t bear to face him knowing that he would have heard everything that happened last night. You try to use Zayne’s suggestion of pretending Dawnbreaker was just another him, but the thought just made things worse given the cisrcumstances, the idea of someone listening to your most intimate moments.

You wonder if Dawnbreaker had been appalled by the noise. Or if he had found it welcoming. The latter sends a rush down your spine, a curious thrill filling your being at the thought. Had he tried to ignore it? Or would the noise have turned him on? And if it had, was he the type to touch himself?

You shake yourself mentally, feeling shame at your indecent thoughts. Another pang of hunger shoots through you, and you carefully get up from the bed. Your clothes from last night were scattered all over the floor, and you resignedly pull out the fresh ones from the bag Dawnbreaker had brought in last night, feeling the irony as you tug on the fresh cotton panties.

Once dressed, you silently slip into the hallway, thanking the gods when you see the living room is empty. Only the rustling of leaves from the tree outside could be heard. You find some instant ramen in one of the cabinets, boil the water, and let it sit. You had just taken a few forkfuls when you heard noise in the hallway, and you whipped around to see Dawnbreaker come into view, fully dressed for his day.

He freezes when he sees you, then blinks, eyes flicking away as he tries to appear nonchalant, deftly turning on the coffeemaker, grabbing a cup, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waits. You slurp your noodles, trying to ignore the increasing thumps of your heartbeat and the prickly heat creeping down from the nape of your neck.

The silence drags on deafeningly, until, unable to take it anymore, you mumble, “Nice morning, isn’t it?”

Dawnbraker appeared to be fascinated with his coffeemaker as he didn’t look up as it started to gurgle and the aromatic liquid began to pool into the carafe. Acting unconcerned, he says, “It’s a usual morning, I’d say. But I understand why it’s good for you.”

You unexpectedly inhale the broth, spluttering undignifiedly as you choke, tears welling in your eyes as you set down the ramen. Instantly, a glass of water is handed to you, and you gulp it down gratefully.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, unable to look at him from the embarrassment. Your whole body felt like it was being twisted and knotted on the inside, and the prickling had now slithered down from the nape of your neck and spread out along your spine and limbs, causing goosebumps to erupt in its wake. Then, seemingly unable to control yourself, you add, “I hope we didn’t disturb you last night.”

Dawnbreaker adds milk to his coffee and sips. “I barely heard anything once I put on my headphones.” When he lowers the coffee cup, you could have sworn he was gritting his teeth. “Was the bed comfortable?”

Your back stiffens, and you jerk your head in the other direction. “I realize we’re in your house, but what happens between me and Zayne behind closed doors is none of your concern.”

“Do you normally get it on in strangers’ bedrooms?” Dawnbreaker quips back, and you flush again, chastised. “Or are you under the impression that Zayne’s house and mine have the same rules?”

“It didn’t seem like you would mind, given how you’ve been snooping around in Zayne’s dreams.” Your words are harsh and taunting, intended to shame him. Your appetite had all but vanished, and you throw away the remainder of the ramen into the trash, intending to escape the kitchen when all of a sudden, you’re spun around, strong arms caging you in against the wall.

“Oh, but I don’t have a choice there, do I?” Dawnbreaker is barely a few inches away from you, his broad physique looming over you. “I only see what your Zayne shows me, I’m afraid.”

There’s a strange, mocking, ironical tone as he speaks. “Sometimes I wonder if he was aware of my presence and dreamt what he did to show off what he had. Trust me, I could map out every feature of your body from memory. That’s how often he dreams of you naked.”

His hand trails down your cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender as his eyes gaze into yours, and strangely, you realize you’re not struggling to free yourself. The familiarity between Dawnbreaker and Zayne had all but obliterated your fight-or-flight instincts. His lips were at eye-level, and you suddenly felt curious about how they would feel pressed against yours; would they feel like Zayne’s? Or someone else’s?

His fingers stroke across your jaw, then down your neck, a teasing tickle of digits that stirs up a delicious feeling of desire deep within. Some confine in the back of your mind is aware that you’d just been made love to a few hours ago, Zayne’s seed still buried inside your cunt, but a carnal yearning had been ignited from the moment Dawnbreaker put his hands on you.

His hand pauses in its journey going south towards your collarbone, and when those green irises flick back to you, he smirks.

“Oh, the number of times I’ve seen you making this expression,” he murmurs, his cheek rubbing yours. “You’re turned on, aren’t you?” His lips replace his cheek, and you shiver at the feeling.

“You were making an utterly delightful sound last night. I wonder what was happening for you to make such a noise.” Dawnbreaker’s breath tickles your ear as he places a little kiss just under it, and you let out a weak little whimper even as your brain begs you for a modicum of restraint.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Your eyes snap open as you hear the same voice that was whispering provocatively to you coming from the entrance to the kitchen. Your heart stops as Zayne comes into view, his expression impassive. Mouth dry, you watch as he approaches while Dawnbreaker doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He and Dawnbreaker corral you, leaving no room for an exit.

“If you were referring to that adorable little chirp she makes, you need to do this.” Zayne unabashedly leans forward to nip your ear, then gently draws the lobe into his mouth, sucking, and as he said, your eyes flutter closed and the chirp leaves your lips with a hint of desperation.

Your body felt strangely heavy, a fog falling over any rationality you might be harboring. A jolt of arousal shocks your body, reaching the deepest part of your core when you finally open your eyes and see Dawnbreaker watching intently, hunger in every line of his face.

“Like this?” he asks before he repeats the action on your other ear, and you let out the same chirp, reddening at the realization. It felt like an out-of-body experience, feeling these mouths on you, yet unable to differentiate which belonged to whom. It was like being double-teamed by Zayne, the texture and pulls from the lips identical.

Your hands, which had been tense, one on each of their chests, were slackening, letting them draw closer to you. The chirps become a moan as they both lick their way down the smooth column of your neck, marking the delicate skin with their teeth.

“Someone’s enjoying themself,” Zayne teases, feeling a buzz flooding his veins as he watches your reactions. There was something undeniably erotic about what was unfolding in front of his eyes. The thought of sharing you with another man? Unbearable. But sharing you with himself? It was like the universe had created a solution. If he could have replicated himself he would have, for the sake of your pleasure. His cock hardens at the thought of watching you writhe on his clone’s tongue while he squeezed and played with your nipples. An unrealized fantasy was awakening inside of him, and your response was bringing it alive for him.

Briefly breaking contact with your skin, Zayne glances at Dawnbreaker. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

“I can clear my schedule,” Dawnbreaker says huskily, and it feels like a million butterflies are alive inside your stomach, their wings creating more tingling sensations of arousal that scurry into every corner of your being.

Before you can say anything, Zayne scoops you up into his arms and carries you, not into the guestroom, but further down the hall into Dawnbreaker’s room, or what would have been his room in your world. He lays you down delicately, settling to one side and stroking your arm, stoking the flames of your steadily growing passion. When Dawnbreaker hesitantly joins, he seems unsure of what to do, shooting Zayne a look of uncertainty.

One of Zayne’s hands grips your chin, leaning your face up to his for a kiss, and you moan longingly into his mouth at the contact, his lips parting to allow space for your exploring tongue.

“Are you ok?” he asks, and when you nod your approval, he directs your face towards Dawnbreaker, who finally covers your lips with his.

It was a unique experience, almost as if Zayne had pulled you back into a kiss for a second time, but you could sense the subtle differences in his technique. It was more reminiscent of an earlier Zayne, when you had first started dating, and he had shyly kissed you, inexperience showing as he’d clumsily made out with you. It was endearingly sweet, and you thought you’d never encounter it again. Yet here it was, and it made you giddy that you could feel this first kiss again.

Dawnbreaker was in a trance, trying his best to keep his raging emotions under control as he let the kiss speak for him. Night after night, watching you with Zayne, wondering if he could ever experience what he had. Now here you were, warm and reactive in his arms. He can feel you trying to teach him, your mouth guiding his as he’s drawn into the sensuality of everything. He timidly touches his tongue against your parted slit and he’s rewarded with the feeling of the wet slip of your tongue against his as you draw it into your mouth. His hand haltingly rests on your knee, fingers gripping into the skin where it leads into your thigh.

You break the kiss as Zayne licks the nape of your neck, giving a squeaky suck to the delicate skin as his hand busy themselves with the hem of your top. Effortlessly, he pulls it off, revealing your bare upper half to Dawnbreaker’s hungry gaze.

Your nipples harden under their watchful eyes, pebbling proudly from arousal, as you try not to appear too eager at the thought of having them both in bed. A sigh escapes you as Dawnbreaker traces the very edge of one of the round buds, his touch feather-light.

“She does enjoy having them played with,” Zayne remarks in a low voice as he demonstrates his point by gently tweaking your nipples with just enough pressure to make you squirm. Dawnbreaker’s lips parted at the sight, like he was imagining how they would feel and taste in his mouth. Your movements press your back more firmly into Zayne’s chest, and he rests his chin on top of your head as your core moistened and fluttered with anticipation, the squeezes on your nipples sending waves of pleasure into your clit which pulses between your folds.

Zayne’s hands ghost the undersides of your breasts, then cup them and push them up, the tender flesh filling his palms as they’re put at Dawnbreaker’s eye level like an offering. Delighted shock jolts through you as, with a groan, Dawnbreaker’s head closes the gap and his lips brush against one of the hardened peaks before sucking it into his mouth. Your body jerks at the warmth and wetness as Zayne continues to play with your other nipple, the dual sensations contrastingly distinct, Zayne’s calloused fingers on one, Dawnbreaker’s pliant tongue on the other, pushing you to a point of no return.

Shallow pants flow from your open mouth as the last vestiges of sensibility drain from your mind, your hand cupping the back of Dawnbreaker’s head to hold him in place. His tongue was curious, laving your nipple with care, his eyes flicking up to your face now and then to gauge your reaction to his suckling, and the action sends a plume of warmth rushing from your gut into your spine. When his teeth delicately graze the swollen nub, you moan helplessly, feeling surrender overpowering your willing body.

Just as you think you’re finding your equilibrium, Zayne catches you off guard and begins to work on your free nipple with his tongue, his little sucks causing a dizzying sensation that steals the breath from your lungs.

Your body knew who was who, yet it didn’t seem to mind as long as it was being pleasured. Your eyes close almost languidly, your breathing slowing at the sheer eroticism of the scene unfolding before you. Coherent thoughts are slowly wiped from your brain, leaving it a mush of want and need, operating on the most primal instincts you could muster.

Dawnbreaker releases your nipple, then draws a line with his tongue between the valley of your breasts, his teeth scraping over your bellybutton, your powerless noises causing his heartbeat to quicken, his cock painfully hard in his formal trousers. Observing his journey south, Zayne follows suit and licks your shoulders, biting into the crook of your neck and zealously squeezing your swollen mounds enticingly.

When Zayne’s hands ghost down towards your waist, you suck in a breath as he deftly undoes the drawstring of your shorts. Your bottom rises to help him pull the garment down, and Dawnbreaker takes over, dragging your panties off. He observes the white stain left behind and brings it to his nose to inhale, and your eyes quickly dart away, unable to take the embarrassment.

“That’s not just her you smell,” Zayne says with a touch of satisfaction, and Dawnbreaker’s eyes narrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?” Zayne offers, and you realize what his intentions were, yet you’re unable to stop Dawnbreaker from nudging apart your thighs, desperately clenching your hole as tightly as possible, but to no avail.

The slippery arousal that had built inside you had caused more of Zayne’s seed to leak, and the milky white fluid was spilling onto the sheets, leaving damp marks as it left your body.

“Oh fuck…” Dawnbreaker’s eyes grew animalistic. “How is she this insatiable?”

“It’s not her fault.” Zayne pets your hair as he speaks. “The thought of both of us has put her body into a heightened state of arousal. You should be proud of yourself.”

You squeak as Zayne shifts your body with his, helping you rest between his long legs as he keeps yours spread apart, his long fingers parting your swollen lips with care to reveal the sticky, dripping labia to Dawnbreaker’s probing gaze. You turn your head, trying to hide in the safety of Zayne’s chest, and he chuckles at your response.

“What’s the matter? You weren’t complaining when you were being stretched wide and filled last night.”

You let out a whimper of mortification, which only grows as Dawnbreaker, emboldened by the sight, adds in a throaty growl, “Certainly not. You were begging, clear as day, for more. What’s the point in acting demure now when the proof is in the pudding?”

Your hips wriggle as Dawnbreaker strokes the edge of your entrance, gathering some of the viscous fluid that was slipping out of your already well used cunt.

Zayne watches with fascinated interest, then, unable to resist goading Dawnbreaker, asks him, “Have you ever given oral to a woman before?”

Pink dusts Dawnbreaker’s cheeks as he looks at you with unconcealed greed. “I didn’t want anyone else,” he says simply in a strained voice, and Zayne hums as if expressing his approval.

“Well then, this shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.” Zayne settles against the headboard as he holds you in place. “I think we taste the same.”

An array of expressions crosses Dawnbreaker’s face as he processes Zayne’s words. “How am I supposed to know that?”

“It’s just logic and common sense. But I suppose if we wanted to test it…” His voice trails, and you jerk as Dawnbreaker brings his coated finger to your lips. You obediently part them and suck, tasting the tang of your pussy along with the ashy taste that was purely Zayne.

“Remember that flavor,” Zayne purrs in your ear. “We’ll need you to confirm if we taste identical.” You flush even as you wantonly suck Dawnbreaker’s fingertip clean, and he withdraws it, now glistening with your saliva.

With the smooth expertise of a medical professional, Dawnbreaker gently brings the finger onto your clit which had swollen conspicuously, pulsing as he pets it delicately and a strangled noise leaves you. Zayne’s fingers tighten into your flesh, indenting the fat on your thighs.

“Patience. You know the best things happen if you wait.”

Dawnbreaker runs circles over your clit and keeps glancing at Zayne as though seeking his approval, something that amused him greatly.

“Try applying a little more pressure on it,” he says, swelling with the fulfilling idea that he was the expert on your pleasure. When you let out a lingering, keening moan, he kisses your hair.

“I know. I know. But remember, it’s his first time. He’ll get the hang of it.”

As Dawnbreaker familiarizes himself with your body’s reactions, he steadily increases the speed on your clit and you writhe, wrinkling the sheets and rocking your hips to relieve the gripping ache that was growing inside.

Zayne makes another jab at Dawnbreaker. “Are you scared you’ll taste me? Is that why you’re not using your mouth?”

Temporarily stunned at the question, Dawnbreaker gapes at Zayne who smirks. “Although fingering works fine, you’re better off giving her oral. It’s softer. And leaves your hand free to do other things.”

Glaring at Zayne and determined to prove him wrong, Dawnbreaker willfully lies between your spread legs, and your belly rises and falls in tense anticipation as you wait for his tongue. As it finally wedges its way between your folds, you cry out, your senses on edge as he catches the base of your clit, dragging it wetly upwards, certain that he could taste Zayne on your membranes.

The indecency of the entire act catches up to you, causing your face to screw up in pleasure as your clit is covered by the warm, wet, muscle, laving it tenderly. Dawnbreaker reaches up to cup your breast, kneading it as he gratifies you, and you’re stuck in limbo between wanting to fall into the abyss of lust, but also hearing the disapproving clicks Zayne keeps making.

“There’s a better use for your hands,” he mumbles impatiently, and before you realize what’s happening, you feel two fingers slip into your slick channel, widening your muscles on their girth. Daring to crack your eyes open, you see Zayne’s arm crossing over your body and his wrist crooked as he contributes to your building desperation.

The world slips away in a haze as you focus solely only what you can perceive; Dawnbreaker’s mouth on your clit, and Zayne’s fingers buried in your hole, both of them contributing to your pending orgasm in different, yet united ways. As Dawnbreaker maintains his deliberate licks, Zayne curls his fingertips into that spongy patch of nerves, teasing them relentlessly, both men reducing you to nothing but a being focused solely on climaxing and disintegrating into dust.

You don’t care how loud you are, nor how tightly your walls clench Zayne’s fingers as your body arches and moves as it needs, closing the gap between yourself and the peak.

In a moment of chaotic relief, you feel the familiar tingling deep within before a blinding spiral of delight claims you, your pussy contracting wetly, squelching as Zayne continues to thrust his fingers persistently as Dawnbreaker licks you through the aftershock rippling through your system.

Both men are watching the sight of you losing control almost reverently, every last cry a testament to their effect on you. Dawnbreaker’s lips glisten with your juices, which he swipes away with his tongue lasciviously. The loss of Zayne’s fingers are felt keenly as he removes them from your cunt, the walls quivering in protest.

Sweat had beaded on your forehead, your breathing harsh and uneven as you tried to float back down to earth. You’re acutely aware as Zayne and Dawnbreaker settle at your sides, affectionately nuzzling you and calming your frayed nerves.

“Hope you’re not too worn yet, darling,” Zayne coos at you as he pushes back strands of hair from your face. “We have another comparison for you to make.”

They continue to nuzzle into you as though each were trying to imprint their scent on you.

“If you’re comfortable, I think Dawnbreaker should do the honors this time. He’s already getting sloppy seconds, it’s only fair, don’t you think?” Zayne asks almost playfully, and you give him a pleading look, his filthy dialogue only edging you further along this path of depravity.

Dawnbreaker looks uncertain, but as Zayne gently nudges you towards him, your inhibitions vanish, and you find the strength to straddle him and begin to undo his tie and buttons. Dawnbreaker’s body is tense as he resists the urge to devour you whole, his fingers clenching the bedsheets as he waits for you to finish undressing him. His breath hitches as you trail lingering kisses down his chest, nipping his skin as your hands busy themselves with his zipper.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but when you finally free him, Dawnbreaker’s cock stands at attention slit already beaded with precum from the engorged head. You wisely keep your thoughts to yourself, but Zayne could have guessed them; it too was identical in size, shape, and coloration to him, and you teasingly lean down to swipe your tongue against his tip, savoring the taste of him. Knowing exactly how much of Dawmbreaker you can take without gagging, you set your mouth to work, slurping him in and hollowing your cheeks to suction around his aching erection.

Dawnbreaker hisses in approval, his hand tugging at your hair as you work on him, his abs rigid as he watches you bobbing along on his dick. Zayne can barely contain himself as he watches, the sight of you pleasuring his pseudo-self so unbearably stimulating, and with a quiet rustle, he slips his cock out of pants and starts pumping himself, remembering the soft feeling of your mouth and turned on by Dawnbreaker’s deep grunts.

Dawnbreaker finds a small strand of restraint and stills you, damned if he orgasmed before he had the chance to experience your pussy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear Zayne’s egotistical expression if he did.

“Please.” Dawnbreaker rasps. “Use me.”

The soft command issued with that tone of urgency was all it took for you to adjust yourself over him, then with a sigh, you start to sink on his cock, and Dawnbreaker’s eyes widen at the sensation. A deep, guttural noise leaves him as he throws his head back, marveling at the warmth and how your walls expanded to accommodate him seamlessly, sliding down and taking him to the hilt.

Feeling full and comfortable with the familiar cock inside you, you start to ride, your tits bouncing as you do so, watching Dawnbreaker’s captivated face as he experiences his first time. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements on him as his eyes close in bliss.

Dreams were a pale offering when he was experiencing you in this way. Dreams didn’t capture how flushed your cheeks were, the way your lips were parted, and the soft, breathy moans that were floating from them. He’s dying to kiss you again, his arms tightening around you as he gives in and does so. You pause mid-stroke to kiss him with concentration, and Zayne finally sees his window.

As you lie down on Dawnbreaker’s chest, reeled in by his kiss, Zayne discards his pants and underwear, joining you on the bed and gently prying your ass cheeks apart, observing how your full hole was tightening around Dawnbreaker’s length. He grasps himself by the base, notching his tip towards your tight pussy and you free yourself from Dawnbreaker’s lips and let out a small whimper of discomfort as Zayne pushes in.

It wasn’t painful but you feel your limits being tested, your cunt being split apart as Zayne slides on top of Dawnbreaker’s cock, joining him inside your snug sex. His breathing is ragged as he kisses your back, praising you and offering soothing words as you adjust around both of them, before he thrusts into you, the stroke making you and Dawnbreaker jolt in response.

The sensation was so tight and Dawnbreaker pushes his hips up against you in response, the dual cocks stroking and hitting every inch of your gummy channel. Impaled and unable to do anything except receive them, you steady yourself on Dawnbreaker’s chest, hands splaying out on his pecs as the three of you push each other into heady levels of ecstasy.

The room fills with grunts and mewls, and the sounds of your sloppy cunt as their cocks pound into it, the wet friction of skin rubbing on skin a lewd addition to your arousal. You’re barely holding on, feeling sweetly lightheaded as they use you, their hands wandering all over, groping your tits, your ass, their lips leaving stray kisses all over your body.

Giddy with the knowledge that you were filled to the brim with the two of the same cock, your body automatically becomes receptive, sighing and gasping your pleasure, trusting them to wreck you into a beautiful mess.

Dawnbreaker’s hips stutter, and his jaw is clenched, and you recognize the signs of an impending orgasm. You stroke his hair encouragingly.

“Cum for me. It’s ok to let go…”

And those words spoken with that beseeching tone have Dawnbreaker falling apart, his balls tightening before releasing his load deep inside you. Not too soon, Zayne, also overwhelmed by the stimulation, lets out a growl as he gives one final thrust and spurts of thick cum escape from his tip.

Their combined cream oozes out of you, the slippery feeling only adding to the debauchery as they ease out of you. Without missing a beat, Zayne scoops some of the leaking fluids onto his fingers and brings them up to your lips for a taste.

“Well?” he asks expectantly, waiting for your answer as Dawnbreaker tries to catch his breath underneath you.

You lick your lips clean, considering.

“No difference,” you remark, and both men visibly loosen up.

“Exactly the same, my dear men.”

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @decileste @thesoftuglywrites @belt0-0 @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @wynter-lily @cordidy @delphiakira @ibreathesmut @thedeepspacecadet @mcdepressed290

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pancakeszs · 3 months ago

Text

the world finds out that you're dating

♡pairing: hyungline!skz x fem!reader

♡wc: 2.3k

♡contents: kissing, fluff, guilt

♡synopsis: the internet accidentally finds out that you and are in a relationship due to a minor slip up.

♡a/n: this is not proofread so please ignore any typos you see. i was really eager to post this! i hope you all enjoy and i hope to write more skz content in the future!

WRITTEN BY @pancakeszs (please do not copy, plagiarize, repost, translate, or edit)

bangchan˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

bangchan has always felt a strong sense of responsibility not only for the members safety but for yours too. ever since you both started dating he made sure your relationship was not in the public’s eye.

he knew that some “fans” would come after you and insult you for no reason at all and that was his biggest nightmare. for the past year you both have been doing a good job at keeping your relationship under wraps, that is until there’s an emergency.

you had been watching one of bang chans concerts, supporting him from afar when a fight broke out and you were caught in the middle.

you turned to the side to find two girls yelling at each other “you’re blocking my view!!” one girl screamed “it’s not my fault!” the second girl screamed back. security couldn’t hear because of how loud the whole concert was so you took it upon yourself to break up the fight before it escalated.

you moved through the crowd to the girls “guys, can’t we just enjoy the show?” one of the girls turned to you and said “mind your own business bitch!”

you frowned “you’re ruining the show not only for yourself but for everyone else! can’t you just move so the other girl can see?” you try to explain a simple solution but the girl doesn’t want to hear it.

“who do you think you are coming over here? do you want to fight me?” she asks.

“no i just want to enjoy the show without you guys yelling and starting a fight.” you explain trying to keep calm.

you can see the girl getting mad and she raises her hand to hit you but before she can swing you hear bangchan yell from the stage “hey!”

the girl who was about to hit you looks over to him to find him staring right at you. she immediately starts fangirling forgetting about how she almost assaulted you. “bangchan i love you!” she screams.

“and i love my girlfriend, who you were about to hit.” he says frowning. your jaw drops at the fact that he actually just said that, publically, in the middle of a concert.

the girl turns to you “know way you’re his girlfriend, did you pay him or something?”

you’re still in shock and you look at bangchan who signals to the security to escort the girl out.

the girl screams and kicks her feet and she’s dragged away but you’re focused on bangchan. he winks at you and security takes you back stage before anyone can snap photos or take a good look at your face.

after the show bangchan rushes back to find you sitting on the couch watching the performance from a screen in the back. “are you ok?” he asks as you comes up to you checking you to see if the girl had hit you before he noticed. “i’m okay chan…thank you. but you didn’t have to do that. now everyone will know we’re together.”

“today just proved that you can get hurt either way but atleast true fans will support us. and anyways as long as we have each other it’ll be okay.”

“i love you babe” you say as he leans in for a kiss.

“i love you too.” he whispers.

lee know ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

it was easy for you and lee know to keep your relationship on the down low. he never really spoke about his personal in interviews and kept questions about it vague. him not showing off your relationship didn’t mean he loved you any less, he just wanted to protect you from the haters on the internet. you didn’t mind it either, you preferred just being in eachothers company without having expectations from people.

one night you come over to lee knows house since you bought his cats a new toy you’d seen on tik tok. you had texted him earlier in the day that you would be coming over and he had replied telling you he was excited. unfortunately it had slipped lee knows mind that you were coming over and he was on a youtube live completely oblivious to the fact that you were supposed to come over.

you knocked on his door and lee know turned around confused. “i don’t think im expecting anyone…” he said to the chat and then walked over to the door. he opened it and his eyes widened when he realized it was you.

you smiled widely when he opened the door and leaned in for a hug. “hi, my love! i brought the cat toys.” when you pulled away you noticed the horror on his face.

“is everything alright?” you asked concerned.

“wait right here.” he says as he runs back into the room. he checks the live and sees that the camera has a full view of the door. he scans the cha quickly and watches as they flood with comments like:

“did they just hug?”

“is that his girlfriend?”

“did she call him “my love?””

he quickly said “sorry, i have to go now.’” and ended the live.

he came back to the door and opened it to find you standing there waiting.

“what happened?” you asked still confused.

“i completely forgot you were coming and i was on a live, they saw you hug me and heard you call me “my love.” i screwed up bad y/n.”

he face palmed himself and dragged his hands down his face. “they aren’t stupid they’re going to know we’re together.”

you put your hands on his shoulders and look at him “it’s going to be okay lee know, don’t blame yourself. i should’ve updated you letting you know i was on the way. if any of us are to blame its me.”

lee know begins to protest but you cut him off “can we go inside to talk about this?” he nods and takes a step away from the door so you can come inside. you take his hand and you sit down of the couch pulling him down with you.

“y/n this wasn’t how things were supposed to go…i didn’t want the world to find out because now people will start analyzing every little thing you do and-“

you cup his face in your hands “first of all, i don’t care about what people on the internet have to say about me or our relationship. i’m happy and secure and that’s what maters. second of all, are you sure they even know who i am? i could be your sister for all they know.”

“they could take a photo of you and find your instagram easily, there aren’t many girls who look as beautiful as you. you’re definetley recognizable.”

a blush coats your cheeks “you’re all worried and you’re still flirting with me.” you tease.

he smiles softly at you “i just want you to know that if the media or anything becomes too overwhelming for you, and you need a break from this relationship…then that’s completely ok. i love you and only want whats best for you.”

“lee know, no matter what happens as long as i have you by my side everything will be ok.” you kiss him softly and then continue “now i came here for a reason, these cat toys won’t play with themselves? where are those little cuties?”

lee know smiles and he knows you’re right, together everything will be ok.

changbin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

changbin and you had been together for a while now, nobody other than your close firneds knew that you both were together. it wasn’t because either of you were ashamed of eachother, it’s just that you had both come to the descision that it would be best for your relationship to be kept a secret so it doesn’t turn into a big thing in the media. it was just another regular day hanging out with changbin at his house before he brought up going to the gym.

“hey, do you want to go to the gym with me?” he asked. he always asked even though your answer was always the same. you hated the gym, which was ironic since your boyfriend basically lived there. still you would always politely decline preferring to do a home workout instead.

today though, you decided to go to the gym with him since you felt like trying it out once more to see if maybe your opinion on the gym has changed. changbin smiled brightly at your answer. you both hopped into the car and chatted about random things until you fianlly arrived at the gym.

“i’m really glad you decided to come with me today.” he held your hand as you walked in.

“aww, im happy you’re happy. i decided i should give the gym another chance.” you explained.

you and changbin were too immersed in your workout and conversation to notice a guy working out near you taking photos of you both. this was a private gym but occasionaly someone would pay to get in, but no one ever recognized changbin.

after your workout you felt energized but tired at the same time. you and changbin got into the car when changbin’s phone started blowing up. he had a look or disbelief as he scanned his eyes across his phone.

“what’s wrong?” you asked worried from his expression.

he handed his phone over to you and you read the headline of the twitter post that read “stray kids idol changbin found entering the gym with another girl while holding hands.” you had to reread the words multiple times for them to process.

“what…? how didn’t we notice!” you said shocked, then it hit you that the only person there was the man working out near you. he had came in not long after you both so he must have snapped photos while you were entering.

“i knew i should’ve been more careful.” changbin groaned.

“binnie, it’s not your fault. you shouldn’t have to be on edge all day just because people are nosy and want to get into your business all of the time.” you reassured him, not wanting him to feel guilty over this whole situation.

“i shouldn’t have nagged at you to even come to the gym today.” he looked so dissapointed in himself and it pained you to see him that way.

“you didn’t nag me, not at all! i decided that i wanted to come today and that is in no way your fault or even mine. besides now this means that we don’t have to keep our relationship a secret.”

“i just feel bad, we both agreed it would be better if we kept our relationship secret but now everyone is going to know. i feel like i failed you.”

you turned to him and held his face in your hands “changbin, listen to me. you did not fail me at all. this is just a little bump in the road but we’ll work through it just like we do with everything else. besides this will all die down when another tweet about another celebrity pops up.”

changbin nodded “you’re right.”

you smiled and kissed him softly “also, this is just another reason why the gym sucks.”

hyunjin˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hyunjin often called you his muse and you found it the sweetest thing in the world. he would draw you when you weren’t looking and paint things that reminded him of you. you enjoyed your relationship and how it was out of the public eye. you were both able to enjoy each others company without anyone commenting or hating on it.

unfortunately nothing this peaceful lasts forever. on one of hyunjins lives he was showing off his sketch book. he didn’t mind sharing his artwork with the stays because he was proud of it. he was so passionate about showing his art that he didn’t notice he grabbed the sketchbook with all of his portraits of you.

he began flipping through the pages and a look of horror flashed across his face when a portrait of you was on full display. he quickly shoved the sketchbook away and laughed awkwardly to the stream.

he quickly made up an excuse and ended the live. he prayed that nobody could tell who you were through the paintings. he quickly drove over to your house to explain what happened but when he finally made it his phone was pinging with notifications.

HAN: look at this! they found y/n’s instagram.

Lix: hyunjin everyone saw your sketches and found y/n’s account!

he couldn’t bear to read the rest of the messages because all of it reminded him of his huge mistake.

suddenly he saw you walk out of your house with your keys in your hands. you stopped short when you saw hyunjin car. you ran to his door and said “hyunjin! are you ok? everyone found my instagram account…”

hyunjin just looked at you looking so ashamed. “i screwed up.” he sighed.

you grabbed his hand and took him inside of your house so you could talk.

you both sat down across from each other and you watched as hyunjin held his head in his hands. “y/n…i’m so sorry.”

“hyujin, i want you to know that i’m not mad. not at all! everyone was going to find out at some point. this was unexpected yes but i’m not upset. i think it’s sweet that they found out because of your drawings of me.”

hyunjin looked up at you “you’re really not mad? i ruined everything…everything was going so well.”

you reached for his hands and held them “i promise you i’m not mad. it was a slip up and trust me if i had a platform like you and i did live streams i would’ve slipped up by now.” you reassured him.

you came around the table to hug him. “i love you, and now i don’t have to hide it.” you held his face in your hands and he looked up at you.

“i’m glad too, now i can share my paintings of you freely.” he smiled softly.

you smiled back and kissed him softly, he returned in kind.

“i love you so much.” he said against your lips.

“i love you too.”

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screechingdefendorpuppy-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Streaming nightmare.

Streamer!vi x reader

Notes: established relationship, vi is streaming a horror game and is so focused she doesnt realize her gf’s presence till it’s too late.

Any mistakes are mine, not proofread.

Based off this tiktok.

“Are you sure about this hun?” You ask her as she downloads the game. “You don’t necessarily have the best track record with scary stuff.”

She tsk and turns to you “Come one babe, Powder lets Isha play this game im sure it will be fine!”

You look at her skeptically as you read the name of it “Resident evil village. Mmmm I don’t vi, I mean Isha is way better at the haunted houses we go to on Halloween than you.”

She dramatically gasp “Now thats rude! Plus everyone hates clowns!” Pouting at you.

“And plus Isha is just at a whole other level than most kids. You can tell she’s powders kid.” She finishes as she turns back to her equipment. You shake your head but let it go.

“Ok well here is some water and a few snacks.” You tell her as she is setting up her stream.

“Thank you baby.” She kisses your temple as she continues to fix the camera angle.

“I’m off to the store is there anything else you would like before I leave?” You stop at the doorframe waiting for an answer.

“Mmmm oh! Could you bring my usual from Jeriko’s? I’ve been craving it for weeks now.” She says big powder blue eyes looking at you. Even though she knows you would never deny her anything she likes to throw in her puppy eyes just in case.

Chuckling you say “Alright hun, I shouldn’t take long. Bye I love you”

“Love you more!” She shouts after you as you exit.

——————

You sigh as you push the door open balancing the take out and small grocery bags of things that you were running low on.

Your grey cat midnight comes over immediately to inspect the haul you bring. You push her gently to guide her forward down the hall way.

Finally in the kitchen you put all the bags on the counter top. You take a minute to properly greet your fur baby giving her the scritches she demands.

Once she leaves satisfied, you set to work on putting everything away. Once done you decide to check on vi.

It is very rare that you appear in her streams. You usually like to stay off camera. Making sure she has water and something to snack on. At times even to remind her that she is past her scheduled time to stream.

As you walk down towards her streaming room you notice the lack of lights. You shake your head, you and vi had made it a compromise to at least leave one light on while she played any scary games. Mostly to give her a sense of security once she is done. This time tho it seems your Gf has forgotten to do just that.

Slowly you enter the room that is only illuminated by her computer screen and lighting for the camera. You make you way over as she continues to talk to her viewers.

“I mean it is a bit spooky.” She says as she moves her character along the screen. I reach her side and notice she is yet to notice you. You wave at the camera saying hello to her subscribers.

The chat blows up with greetings to you but she doesn’t notice. You bend down to her level and look at her.

“Hello?” She says laser focused on her game. So you respond.

“Hello”

Immediately the most high pitched scream leaves her as she jumps clean out of her chair. Taking the headphones with her and controller flying out of her hands.

You jump at the reaction, hands flying towards your mouth. You look at her as a laugh bubbles up inside you. “Are you ok?” You ask through the laughter.

“YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT ME!!!” She yells as she starts to sit up. She looks over at the screen and sees chat bubbles flying across the screen. Laughing at her predicament.

You start laughing even more when you look at the window that shows her in the stream. After the jump and fall the camera tilted a bit from the commotion.

On the screen you see yourself standing where she had been a few seconds ago. Vi on the other hand was on the bottom of the screen. Only the top of her head and eyes in view. Only thing her viewers see is her laughing Gf and her annoyed eyes with a skewed headset on her.

#arcane #vi x you #vi arcane #vi x reader #violet arcane #violet x reader #vi x y/n

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 year ago

Text

34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

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