#the physical pain n the stress is already enough n

[noxtivagus]

this week's gna be so hellish

[prettyboykatsuki]

YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI. 

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 6.7k

✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello

✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer. 

“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”

You don’t look up from your screen.

“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Katsuki slams his hand on the desk. 

“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly. 

“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.” 

“There’s something wrong with me,” 

“Well yes,” 

“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.” 

There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you. 

“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?” 

He nearly snaps his pen in half. 

“What do you fucking think?!” 

“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.” 

This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.

He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything. 

Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,” 

“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,” 

“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having. 

You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are. 

“And…?” 

“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.” 

“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”

Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem. 

(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now) 

“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.” 

“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.” 

“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.” 

You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place. 

“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.” 

He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.” 

“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?” 

“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?” 

“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.” 

“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.” 

“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,” 

“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”

“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?” 

You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,” 

A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands. 

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.” 

“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,” 

“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.” 

There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh. 

“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?” 

He stares at you. “With what.” 

“With your dick being broken,” 

“What?!” 

“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.” 

He hates more than anything that you have a point. 

“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,” 

He pulls back a little. 

“...Are you fine with that?” 

“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,” 

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.” 

“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.” 

He leans back in his chair and groans. 

“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.” 

__ 

It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer. 

Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried. 

Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text. 

Fine. Come Saturday. 

The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact. 

(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.) 

It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous. 

You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship. 

He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him. 

Is he stupid? 

Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens. 

But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.

More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him. 

He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time. 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring. 

He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile. 

“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?” 

He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,” 

You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag. 

“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.” 

“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,” 

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress. 

He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.

Predictably,  the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue. 

You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.” 

He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit.  He frowns. Typical. 

You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this. 

“Handcuffs? Seriously?” 

“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.” 

“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”

“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing.  What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit.  “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?” 

He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,” 

“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“That’s not an answer,” 

He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.” 

“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”

“Stoplight?” 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.” 

“That’s fine. Easy to remember.” 

“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?” 

He stares at you. 

“The fuck…?” 

“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.” 

“Is it necessary?” 

“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?” 

The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Yeah…’m fine with it.” 

Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little. 

“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now.  There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.” 

He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot. 

“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.” 

“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?” 

“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.” 

You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale. 

“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,” 

He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things. 

He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress. 

The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw. 

Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes. 

“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?” 

His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.” 

You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.” 

He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you. 

The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing. 

You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged. 

You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand. 

“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.” 

“Just goin’ for it, huh?”

You don’t reply to that, but you do smile. 

It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust. 

The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous. 

“That’s it, baby,”  You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?” 

No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in. 

You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes. 

Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast. 

He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back. 

“Do you wanna…keep going?” 

He gets hard. Fuck. 

“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,” 

He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings. 

“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?” 

He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.

“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,” 

(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness. 

But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual. 

He can’t help but think about it anyway.)

You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles. 

He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going. 

“That feel okay?” You mumbles

“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,” 

“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—

There. Shit, there. 

“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,” 

You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.

He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating. 

God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good? 

His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star. 

He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”

“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,” 

His blush deepens.. 

“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,” 

“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease. 

His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline.  “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .” 

You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “ 

“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—” 

“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.” 

He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple. 

When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him. 

And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck. 

“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel. 

He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?” 

His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb

A long pause. 

“Hey,” Your expression is  serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,” 

Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall. 

“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,” 

“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter. 

There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display. 

It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed. 

“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you. 

“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.” 

You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?” 

His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,” 

He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back. 

When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration. 

“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?” 

“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace. 

“Say it.” 

“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.” 

You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever. 

You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options. 

“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire. 

You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight. 

As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch. 

“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.” 

“Please stop talking, before I, haah,” 

“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.” 

“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,” 

You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?” 

He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs. 

 You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore. 

He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and  how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him. 

He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good. 

It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too. 

He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,” 

The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything  - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain. 

He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced. 

He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell. 

It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline. 

“Still all there?” 

His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,” 

You giggle. 

“So… no?” 

“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh. 

“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.” 

He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?” 

“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.” 

He groans. 

“You’re insane.” 

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. 

“You love me.” 

He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it. 

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

[cutielando]

Hello, I saw that your requests are open so could you please write something about Charles taking care of his girlfriend after getting a knee surgery, I got surgery not too long ago (nothing serious) from playing football and I just feel like he would be such a caring boyfriend.

a/n: thank you so much for sending this in!❤️

my masterlist

Ever since you could remember, you have always been the adventurous type.

You would rather go exploring than stay in, the thrill of a potential adventure overpowering the need for a relaxing day in with the one you loved.

Which fitted perfectly with Charles’ need for adventuring and going on as many trips around the world as he could.

But there was a slight problem with that. With the adventurous thrill also came the danger.

And you were very prone to injuring yourself. Just like you had done on the last skiing trip you had gone on with Charles, right before the F1 season started up.

Adventuring a little too much on a not so safe skiing slope resulted in your falling and injuring your knee. An injured knee which required surgery.

You had been devastated when you found out you would need surgery. Not only would the recovery be horrendous and strenuous on your body, but it also meant that Charles would go out of his way to take care of you, neglecting his training in order to make sure you were okay.

That was the biggest problem in your eyes. Not the injury itself, not the surgery that you would need to have, but the fact that Charles would move the mountains in order to take care of you.

Which is exactly what happened. 

You had your surgery two weeks after your knee was injured, a mere couple of weeks before the season picked up again. Charles was proving to be a great caretaker, dotting on you and being the sweetest person ever.

He would bring you food, medicine and anything else you would need in bed, he would help you to the bathroom by supporting you. He got in touch with the best physiotherapist that he knew and immediately started your road to recovery.

He would take you to every single therapy session, every doctor’s appointment that followed your surgery to track your progress and your recovery.

He helped you exercise at home, urging you to push yourself in order to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

He would hold you every time you would break down because it would all get too much. The pain, the recovery, the pressure of getting better, the stress on your body. He would hold you through it all, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that would instantly calm you down.

You didn’t like feeling this helpless, like you couldn’t do anything on your own and practically lived at Charles’ pity.

You hated it.

And Charles had begun suspecting as much. He had noticed how closed off you had become over time, but he didn’t want to say anything that might make you feel even worse than you already did.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” he asked one evening after you had got back from a particularly strenuous physical therapy session.

You smiled at him, shaking your head as you rested on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, I’m okay. Just a little tired” you lied smoothly, but it was not enough to convince him.

“Please don’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you ever since your surgery, don’t think I haven’t noticed” he said, sitting down beside you.

You sighed, biting your lip. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, everything that you had been bottling up threatening to boil over.

“I hate how dependent I have become on you” your voice was small, too worried that you could hurt his feelings.

Charles frowned, the wheels in his head turning to understand what you were really trying to say.

“Am I bothering you? Is that it?” he asked, his face sad and broken like a puppy dog’s.

You immediately shook your head, wanting to get up from the bed and comfort him but it would take you way too much time.

“No, don’t ever think that. It’s me that’s bothering you” you said, your frustrations slowly making their way towards the surface.

If Charles had been confused up to that point, he was even more confused now. How could you ever bother him?

“What do you mean? You’re not bothering me, what are you talking about?” he made his way towards you and took a seat next to you on the bed.

You sighed, tears slowly welling up in your eyes as you rested your head in your hands.

“It’s just this stupid surgery. I can’t even get up to go to the bathroom without needing your help. It’s pathetic, I can’t do anything on my own anymore” you cried silently, hiding your face in your hands.

Charles’ shoulders suddenly slumped into realization, his heart heavy. He didn’t say anything, instead he brought you into his arms and pushed your head into the crook of his neck, wary of twisting you too much because of your knee.

You let out strained and tired sobs, clinging onto Charles like your life depended on it. You had missed him, even though he’s been with you the entire time up until then. You had missed his touch, missed him holding you just because you both needed it. Both of you have been so preoccupied with your recovery, with taking your meds, going to physical therapy with Andrea and managing the pain that you forgot to be just Y/N and Charles, a couple.

You stayed in his arms for a while, just needing to let it all out. He understood that, holding you against him without saying anything, just planting kisses on your forehead from time to time.

Once you calmed down, you slowly pulled away from Charles, who wiped away your tears and gave you a small smile.

“Mon amour, I’m only going to say this once. You will never, ever in this life be a bother to me. I don’t care if I have to take care of you every single day for the rest of our lives, I would drop everything in a heartbeat to be with you. Don’t ever doubt how much I love you and the lengths I would go to just to see you happy and taken care of” Charles’ speech did nothing to stop your sobs, in fact they got even worse.

Charles knew it was the pain and frustration talking from you, and that you didn’t actually mean anything you had said to him. However, he didn’t mind one bit reassuring you and telling you anything that you might need in order to feel better.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled out once you started to calm down a little. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I get it, I would probably be the same if I were in your place. Just don’t ever doubt how much I love you and how much I enjoy feeling needed when you need me to take care of you” he joked a little at the end, bringing a smile to your face.

“I love you so much” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his lips down to yours.

Between salty kisses and whispered nothings, you realized that even through the rough patches, Charles would always be there to get you through everything.

Your caretaker for life.

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much appreciated!!

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[funnyexel]

Hiii! You’re an amazing writer! That thing that you wrote with the stalker? *chef kiss* Perfect!

I can’t stop thinking about him entering Y/N’s house when she’s at work or something? And taking something with him before he leaves (maybe some panties or a bra) and jerking off with it

missing items

okay. maybe you're clumsy or outright forgetful with your belongings but this time you can't just be imaging things. You swore you left your work bra on your dresser and now it's nowhere to be found.

instead of stressing about the piece of clothing, you wear a different bra and head to work. you already felt like this day wasn't going your way, so when your boss said you have to do inventory, you wholeheartedly wanted to throw yourself out the window. but nonetheless you go to the back and begin unpacking and organizing new merchandise.

you were scanning tags and going through boxes when your scanner sent a red notification.

'missing'

'notify available management'

'missing items'

he felt like a pervert. for once in his stupid life. he felt like a freaking pervert.

every time he looked into your panty drawer he huffs with a shake of his head—like it was his underwear that was actively being stolen—but that's not the case. he simply filled with dread upon looking at the drawer because his favorite thing to borrow is becoming scarce. like damn, he'd thought you'd at least go buy some new underwear by now.

pacing around your room, he's careful not to shift anything around. your aroma is all over the room and he's getting frustrated quite fast. its like the room is spinning as he says 'fuck it' and rummages through your nightstand. he's seen you dig in here countless times, there has to be something he wants in here.

one hand roughly opening and closing drawers while his other is squeezing his dick disgustingly tight in through his pants. he can't physically handle this irritation, the vexation of it all.

he's ready to simply unbuckle his pants and throw them to the side, all the while jumping into your sheets as he jerks himself off to the scent of your pillow but he stops.

both hands hold onto the sides of this specific drawer, shakily reaching into the drawer and finding a black lace panty. bringing the fabric to his nose, he took a huge inhale and immediately realized. its not the usual smell of detergent and perfume but, the smell of you. you and your ethereal juices that come from that sweet pussy.

he closed his eyes and took another deep inhale.

it was his lucky day. you hid it away from him. probably embarrassed from how you fingered yourself silly in the lingerie.

but your embarrassment was the last thing on his mind as breathy moans leave his quivering lips, his slender fingers griping his thigh and his palm holding your panty against his cock. holding it in a warm embrace as he, practically, gives himself rug burn from how fast he's rubbing the fabric on him.

what's worse? worse than his dumb whimpering and quivering lips? worse than his purposeful infliction of pain on his dick? what's worse is that he's crying, full on tears running down his cheeks, from the thought of you catching him like this.

legs spread wide on your bedroom floor, back against your dresser and head banging back against the top drawer as he cries out your name from the twisted and masochistic pleasure.

safe to say, he left with yet another one of your underwear and a mind-scrambling orgasm. he even felt generous enough to leave you something. something small, a surprise, on that sex toy of yours.

what?

you thought he didn't see it?

silly girl.

more of my writing

a/n: thanks for the compliment! I'm enjoying expanding on this little topic—if I can even call it that—and I'm getting so carried away with this

[vodika-vibes]

Heyy can you please please please

Do a ,, Ideal types of Wolffe, Rex, Jesse etc…“

Someone already did a bad Batch version but no one did a version of our other husbands that would be so nice

Ideal Types

Pairings: Captain Rex x Reader, Commander Wolffe x Reader, ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader

Warnings: Uh...this is actually pretty angsty. Sorry.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @stupendoussludgezinerebel-blog

A/N: I wasn't sure how many you wanted, so I went with four. I added Fox because I love him, lol. Also, this might not be, exactly, what you wanted. But I was feeling poetic this morning, and then angst monster smacked me with a baseball bat and yeah. I hope you like it!

Captain Rex x Reader - A pillar. Someone who supports him through everything.

You smile at Rex, soft and warm and gentle as he rests his head on your lap. He’s more asleep than awake at this point, and you lightly trail the pads of your fingers over his short hair, careful to not wake him.

He’s so tired, your perfect Rex. Your handsome Captain.

But here, in the safety of your apartment, enveloped in your soft arms and soft scent, the stress lines on his face ease away, making him look his physical age, rather than much older.

He turns in his slumber, his face pressing against your stomach and his arms slide securely around your waist, clinging to you like a child would cling to a treasured blanket, and your smile softens.

He works so hard, your Rex. Has so much stress and responsibility laid upon his broad and strong shoulders. As if he's stuck bearing the weight of the galaxy.

But, right here, right now, you can bear that weight for him.

"Rest, my love." You whisper, your voice soft enough that he doesn't stir, "I have the watch."

Commander Wolffe x Reader - A lighthouse, someone who is able to light his way home, even in the darkest of times.

"You're tense, Wolffe." Your voice is soft as you slide your hands over his shoulders to wrap him in a hug from behind. "Is everything alright?"

His smile is wry and slightly bitter, and you have your answer.

No. He's not alright. He's not been alright since the day he lost most of his battalion. Since the day his beautiful red armor bled all the color out and turned into the solemn grey of mourning.

It's a wound that still bleeds, you know.

You press a feather light kiss against the back of his neck and tighten your arms around him. You won't pressure him, you won't ask him questions.

For all that the curiosity burns, your love for him burns brighter. And so you hold him, and offer him your unyielding support.

He's lost in a maelstrom of grief and pain. A storm of sorrow buffets him from every angle. And there are no words that can ease his suffering.

And so you offer the only thing you can. Your silent support and your undying love. You'll be here to light his way back to shore, always. Forever.

ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader - A sanctuary, someone where he's allowed to break and shatter, without fear of any consequences.

He's shaking.

Jesse's arms are firm around your, his face pressed against your neck as he lays on top of you...and he's shaking.

Trembling, really. Like a tooka kitten.

Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and you turn your head to kiss the side of his head. You knew, of course, that this deployment was...bad.

But until this very moment, you had no idea how bad.

You won't ask, though you know he'll tell you if you did.

Even though your heart breaks when you feel his tears against your bare shoulder. And then it shatters when a sob rips from your Jesse's throat.

Even then, you still won't ask. You are his sanctuary, his safe place where he can be just a man, and not the strong soldier that he has to be every other day.

And when he, brokenly, whispers that he's applying for ARC, you just tighten your arms around him.

And you know, know, that this story ends in tragedy. But you'll continue being his safe place until it's not needed anymore.

Commander Fox x Reader - A bulwark, a barrier between him and the rest of the galaxy. Someplace where he can feel safe.

Fox sighs, low and quiet as he looks up at you. He has dark circles under his eyes, he hasn't been sleeping again. But that's nothing compared to the angry bruises that you're treating for him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out, "For being such a burden."

You smile at him, warm and loving, "You could never."

Something like distress slides across his face, "Cyare, I-"

"Shh," You soothe him with a gentle touch of your hand against his cheek, "Whatever it is, darling, it will hold. At least for now."

The distress remains, though it fades as you lovingly apply bacta to another bruise.

He suffers, your Fox. You see it more and more clearly with every passing day. He's losing time, he has growing blank spots in his memory...and it terrifies him.

It terrifies you too.

How long before he's not him anymore? Until he no longer looks at you with love and adoration, but with blank disregard.

You shove the thought to the side firmly. Right here, right now you have your Fox. And you will shield him from the rest of the galaxy, for as long as you can.

That's all you can do for him.

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyy may I request dottore with a very sleepy (Fem/gn)Reader who always struggles with nightmares and staying awake

(idk what to do against my sleepiness :<)

Dottore, being a man of science, a doctor himself, has seen people go through various things. Whether it be painful to the person physically, mentally, or emotionally- he has seen it all. Even done it to others.

But when it comes to you, he wouldn't dare put you through that pain nor stress. So when he noticed something weird about your behavior. He has to know why.

Observation is always the first step a researcher must do in order to gather data. With his clipboard in hand, he watched you move around his office.

Subject: Y/N

Observations:

- Subject shows signs of lack of sleep due to the bags under their eyes.

- Subject has a hard time doing their assigned tasks; lack of focus, sluggish movements, constant yawning.

- When the Theta segment recommended them to sleep, subject reacted anxiously before declining their suggestion and stating they don't need it. Subject seems to be scared. Possibility that the subject is afraid of sleeping or something related to sleep?

Comments:

- Subject does not want to sleep due to something that is giving them constant fear. Best to question them on why they do not wish to sleep for almost a week now. Another solution is to give them a sedative that could help them recover the rest they needed.

After reviewing his notes for a second time and making sure he got everything, Dottore went off to find you.

"Darling?"

You hummed in reply, your tired eyes looking up at your partner. Dottore could only sigh when he saw the bags under your eyes becoming more worse by the day.

"Is there a reason on why you do not wish to slumber? I have noticed how you're struggling to even move around or speak due to your lack of rest. I suggest you tell me why, I'm beginning to worry that you might hurt yourself due to your fatigued mind."

You didn't give any replies, embarrassed about your reason. Already knowing that avoiding sleep would be pointless and the fatigue would catch up to you sooner. Your state couldn't even go unnoticed by the doctor himself.

So... how would you tell Dottore that you can't sleep due to your nightmares? Childish as it may, the constant horrific dreams you've been getting each day was the reason why you didn't bother to go back to sleep. Not even a wink or shuteye.

Without further delay, you decided to tell Dottore. The harbinger himself listening to every word, processing, even coming up with various solutions to at least comfort you. It's not really in his nature to do the latter but for you, he would do anything.

"Nightmares? And what, pray tell, are you having nightmares about? Is it due to the screams of the test subjects in their cells? The 'grotesque' view that others would find whenever I am in the middle of an experiment?"

Though the words he used may sound cold and blunt, the hand rubbing your head gave enough warmth and comfort. Dottore prefers to say things whatever it is.

What's the point of sugar-coating the truth when it's already in front of you, afterall? That is what Dottore would think.

Nevertheless, his actions does speak more than his words. He led you to sit on the couch he has in his office, letting you lean onto him as he gently pulled you by the waist to be closer to him while he listened to you vent out your nightmarish dreams.

"Is that so? I have a few suggestions that can be of help to you, darling. You see, I have concocted a little sedative, one that can easily make you fall asleep for.. let's say maybe twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Just enough to recover the rest you needed. I also have melatonin that could help you fall asleep. Hm.. maybe we should use them as a last resort."

Dottore had to be reminded that you cannot sleep due to your nightmares. Which caused him to stop in his rambles before crossing out the ideas he suggested.

He may have gotten a bit carried away.

You couldn't be upset at him, he is trying his best. It's the littlest things that matters, after all. Besides, he's never been in a serious relationship with anyone until you came into his life and you're probably the only one insane enough to even date the second harbinger.

"How about.. you sleep with me? You could use the rest too and I need someone to cuddle with so I don't get any nightmares."

"Cuddle? Darling, I am a doctor, a scientist. I may know the benefits of physical contact, hugging to be exact, to a person but I am not one to do such a thing--"

Dottore could even finish his sentence when you were already clinging onto him. Like a newborn to their parent, your arms were wrapped around the doctor's neck as you cuddled up to him. Said doctor could only lay stiffly on the couch, he really doesn't know what to do, you even pinned him down to the furniture and got into a position where you both would be comfortable. His fingers were twitching to flip the positions, with you laying on the couch instead so he could return to his work.

But you felt so warm and soft and so vulnerable even--

No. Bad. Keep yourself in check, Dottore.

"If you don't want to cuddle then it's alright. I can go back to my room."

Before you could even move away, Dottore kept you in place. His arms circling around your waist to keep you from getting out of his hold as he leaned his chin on top of your head. Luckily he wasn't wearing his mask or else it could have poked your eye.

"If this will be of help to let you sleep easier without anymore nightmares then go on ahead. You do know that the brain could eat itself if it lacks sleep for a long time."

You could only laugh in amusement at the information. Dottore would always tell science facts here and there whenever he is doing something very affectionately. It's an easy way to hide how flustered he is.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as you nuzzled more into Dottore's warmth. You felt something soft pressed against your forehead along with a small hum from the man holding you, causing you to smile as you slowly entered a deep slumber. Dottore's words being the last thing that you hear before entering your dreamland, this time, no more nightmares.

"Go to sleep now, darling. I'll be here till you wake up. I won't leave you alone with your nightmares this time."

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 19 - The Betrayal)

5.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din addresses the threat made against you the only way he knows how.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, unprotected PiV, nicknames (pretty bird, baby, etc.) Angst, angsty angst. Additional warnings withheld to avoid spoilers.

A/N 1: I'm just going to upload this now instead of my usual Friday posting because it's been a doozy to edit and while I don't think I've quite achieved the emotional punch I wanted, I feel like not posting it is holding me back on the next chapters; TLDR - it's not perfect but please take this from me 🙏🏻🫣

A/N 2: I'm sorry.

Series Masterlist / Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

It’s been a hell of a week.  More than once, Din’s come home worn down with evidence of some type of altercation etched into his energy.  Whatever is happening with the Mandos these days, it’s different than before – whereas prior to Cass and Rikard’s wedding the toll that the unrest had taken on Din was mainly physical, these days the weight that Din carries on his ever tightening shoulders seems to be more of a mental burden.  He won’t talk to you about it and that alone leaves you anxious with worry for him. 

After what must have been only a temporary respite, months of simmering tension in Din’s world feels like it’s about to break into a boil at any moment and you just know that Din will be in the middle of it when it does.  One night, Din comes home with a nasty knife wound down his side and you have to fight back tears as you do your best to help him clean and patch up his wound.  When it’s clear that your amateur first aid skills won’t be enough, you call Lala who came over immediately and put her nursing degree to use, mending and healing what you could not.  After walking her down the stairs to her waiting cab, you had hugged your friend tightly, thanking her profusely for coming and helping Din.  The look of concern on her face finally breaks you and before you can help yourself, you're crying in her arms – you've never had anyone with whom to share your worry for Din before.  Your friends have seen you stressed over Din in the past, but this is the first time someone has seen evidence of the violence that’s the root behind your anxiety.  Selfishly, you feel a weight lifted off of you from not having to hide this part of your life with Din from your friends for once. 

Climbing the stairs and reciting to yourself the instructions Lala left on how to keep Din’s wound clean and infection-free, you suddenly wonder if Din might be angry with you for having brought in an “outsider”.  But your concerns turn out to be completely baseless, evaporating the moment you fluff the pillows behind Din’s head while trying to make him more comfortable – Din takes your hand and apologizes to you, “I’m sorry, pretty bird.”

“Sorry for what?  Getting hurt?”

“Sorry that I can’t keep this part of my life out of yours.”

Silly old man. “Din, there isn’t any part of your life that I don’t want in mine,” you try to smile at him reassuringly, but he’s already succumbing to the pain medication and drifting off to sleep.

Din doesn’t tell you about the threat made against you - he doesn’t want to scare you or have you living in fear.  He also doesn’t want to add to the anxiety he knows you already carry on his behalf, especially since he doesn’t have any answers right now - the investigation into the threats is not going as quickly as he’d like. 

He knows he's not being fair.  It’s all hands on deck right now - every Mando on the payroll put on protection and surveillance details to ensure that each photographed target has sufficient coverage, including you.  That only leaves a few bodies with enough time and know how to properly investigate the threats and chase down leads.  These things take time, patience, focus – Din knows that, but all he can think about is you and how every minute he hasn’t uncovered the culprit behind the threats is a minute you’re not safe.  It’s distracting him and making him sloppy – like the other night where he literally chased down a lead who ended up pulling a knife on him.

As far as Din’s concerned, even if he has a Mando watching you every second of the day (which just isn’t possible), until he makes headway in the investigation, you won’t be any safer.  He doesn’t tell you any of this - just lets it stew and eat him up.  But you know him so well and he can tell that you know he’s keeping something from you and that it hurts you.  Din had made you a promise a long time ago that even if he can’t tell you everything, he would never make you feel like he was purposefully keeping you in the dark – he knows he’s breaking that promise every day. 

Something has to give. 

Din knows this but he doesn’t know what.  He could tell you everything – you would have to live as you never have before, frightened and terrorized.  Would you blame him?  He already does.  Or he could try harder to pretend that nothing’s wrong – somehow this feels like lying to you and quite frankly, he doesn’t think he could manage it anyways.  What he really needs is a break to come in the case so he can take out whoever is behind this, but he has no concrete way of making this happen.  In lieu of that… he could remove the target over your head another way.  There are no good options.

Then, without warning one night, it hits him square in the jaw what the only option is. 

It’s near closing time at the gym, but there aren’t any people working out – just a Mandos gathering.  Paz leads the meeting which consists primarily of going over surveillance reports and handing out protective detail rotations.  The atmosphere isn’t relaxed by any stretch of the imagination, but nothing out of the ordinary has come up recently and if anything, the meeting is fairly routine.

Din is only half listening to the protection assignments, having already heard that Jimmy and Mayfeld are assigned to you this week, when out of the corner of his eye he sees Brian get a text and leave to make a call outside, but he never makes it past the front doors of the gym.

Even from a distance, Din can hear Brian’s girlfriend through the line; she’s upset, nearly hysterical, whatever Brian is saying to her completely masked by the sobs coming through the phone. 

Having been silenced by what they can’t help but overhear, the Mandos all watch as Brian returns hurriedly to talk to Paz, voice low while his girlfriend appears to stay on the line; Brian has his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone but her loud sniffling can still be heard through the ear piece of the receiver.  When Brian leaves, practically running out the door – Paz calls out for a few Mandos to follow with him, but not Din.

“You should go see Lil’ Lady, brother.”

“Why? What happened?” Din panics.

It wasn’t Paz’s intention to alarm his friend needlessly, realizing too late the folly of his words, “Brian’s girlfriend was being followed while she was out walking the dog.  Not even very discretely.  Two cars filled with guys won’t stop harassing her – she’s not close to home so we’re going to go deal with it.”

“While she was walking the dog?!” Din’s immediate thought goes to you and Al as Paz knew it would.

“Yeah.  We’ll go with Brian.  You go home, ‘kay brother?”

Din’s already packing up, ready to close up the gym and head to your place, the buzzing in his head drowns out anything Paz might be saying: “nothing to worry about” or “it’s not the same.”

It might as well be the same.  Brian’s girlfriend was walking the dog.  You walk the dog.  She was alone.  You walk Al alone.  She had been so very frightened – he could hear it over the phone, and his heart constricts painfully imagining that same current of fear in your voice.  She has a detail, of course, but apparently whoever had gone after her was willing to take the chance, or somehow knew when she would be alone, without Brian and when her security would be rotating off. 

The Mandos can only do so much – even with their efforts, none of the targets being protected are 100% safe 100% of the time.  As he drives, Din can’t help but replay the sound his brain conjures of what you might sound upon realizing you’re in danger, scared and crying out for his help.

By the time he pulls up to your building, he’s come to the only solution that’s viable in order to keep you safe.  The one that that increasingly loud, incessant voice in his head has been nattering about since he saw those photos of you.  With a heavy heart, he picks up his phone and dials a number that he hasn’t called in a long, long time.

For the past few days, Din’s been coming home earlier and you can tell he’s making an effort not to bring Mando business home with him.  While you appreciate it, you think you would much rather if he told you more about what was going on, or at least be less closed off with you.  Tonight, he comes home tonight with flowers and a big bag of take out from your favourite Thai place as a surprise – you know he’s trying to make up for his mood the last two weeks; his sweetness warms your heart – he’s shut you out a lot recently but you know he probably hasn’t meant to.  And while you don’t need him to apologize for it, you do need him to know he can open up to you about what’s troubling him – the two of you have come such a long way since the first time he told you about his connection to the Fetts; it seems silly to keep you in the dark so much after saying, in Din’s own words, that you were one of them.  Sitting down with your plates, you let Din know as much in a gentle and calming manner – you don’t want him to feel bad, you just want him to know you want to be there for him.

Din sighs, “I know, I’m so sorry, pretty bird.  I don’t mean to shut you out.  I… just don’t want any darkness to ever touch you.”

Leaving your plate behind, you climb into Din’s lap and run your hands through his soft curls, gently placing soft kisses to the corners of his mouth before cupping his face in your delicate hands and cradling it so he looks at you, “I know, baby… but I’m a big girl.  And I know that I have my big bad wolf to take care of me if things are too much.”

Din smiles and closes his eyes, feeling a tingle every place where the soft graze of your fingers touches his skin: his face, jaw, neck.  He could stay like this forever, just melting into your touch.

Nodding, he tells you what you need to hear, “Tomorrow night, I have to do something that I’m dreading.  But it needs to be done and I’m the only one who can do it.  But, pretty bird – if there was any other way, I would never entertain it.  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.  It consumes my every waking thought.  It will be one of the hardest and maybe worst things I’ve ever had to do – and I don’t even have any idea if it will even work.  I don’t think I’m at all prepared for what will happen after - I’m scared, baby.”

Din's telling you the truth.  Tomorrow, he’s leaving.  Tomorrow, you’ll hate him.  He doesn’t know how he will find the strength to go through with what he has planned - all he knows is that he has to.  He’s almost afraid to open his eyes – he knows that when he does, he’ll be met your understanding and unwavering sympathy for his plight; you always look at him with so much care, love and belief in his goodness.  His heart shatters at how much he’s going to betray that trust.

“Will you be in danger?” you ask, timidly – you won’t ask details because you don’t think Din will give you any, but you’ve never heard Din speak this way before.  Normally so fearless, it’s so unsettling to hear your big, strong warrior admit that he’s afraid.

His eyes forlorn, Din nods, “I wouldn’t rule it out, baby.  If things go a certain way, I’ll go back to my place to lay low, okay?  No matter what, I’ll call you before 9:00 to let you know I’m okay.”

Still holding his face in your hands, you study your sweet, brave Din’s face and try to convey with your own gentle expression that you believe in him, that everything will be alright.  He reads you perfectly and his chest tightens even more – no matter what, you always remain his biggest supporter, confident in his abilities and his decency.  His precious pretty bird.  He closes his eyes and inhales your sweet scent, a mix of your floral perfume and the nameless subtle scent that he associates with just you, as you flutter soft butterfly kisses all over his face and neck.

That night Din takes you to bed and makes love to you.  His loving gaze and hands try to memorize every line and curve of your figure; he kisses your lips swollen so they’ll imprint on his own.  Mentally, Din attempts to record every sigh and sound of pleasure that falls from your mouth, hoping he’s captured them properly so he’ll never forget them.

He makes you sing with his fingers and mouth, honouring every deep valley and cresting wave of your body and thanks you for allowing him the privilege of knowing it so intimately by touching the very deepest, loveliest parts of you.  He drinks from you like a parched man in a desert that knows what he’s found is a mirage, but it’s as good to a desperate man as an oasis, so he’ll have more than his fill while the fantasy lasts.  He gives you mind numbing pleasure and takes none for himself, hoping that every orgasm his gives you tonight will somehow lessen the hurt he’ll inflict tomorrow.  The less selfish part of him knows that it will actually hurt more, but he cannot regret devoting himself to you for just one more night.

When Din finally enters you, it’s with him positioned on top - pinning you beneath his formidable frame, caged in and safe.  He won’t take you any other way tonight.  He won’t look anywhere else tonight but your bright eyes, the ones that remain, for now, filled with adoration and love.  If there’s anything he swears to himself that he’ll remember, it’s these eyes.  They close whenever he steals your air by uncovering those secret parts of you that only he can reach, and snap open wide as you gasp to the sensation of Din dragging along your tight, warm walls.  Later, after he’s already pulled two from you, Din slowly thrusts, stretching and filling you so that you both feel every inch of his worship and he watches them fill with tears.  “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers, not sure if he’s reassuring you or himself as his kisses your wet cheeks. 

The final time you come, you do so in tandem, both you and Din crying out loud, unashamed, and desperate.  Collapsing on top of you, Din softly chants words of praise and love: ‘I love you’ ‘You’re perfect’ “There is no one for me but you’ timed to his still pulsing cock, trailing off only when the fluttering of you sated cunt subsides.

---

You wake some time in the night to the gentle movements of Din’s lips pressed into your hair, murmuring words that you don’t understand, either because they’re too quiet or because your brain isn’t quite awake enough.

“Din?” you mumble, still half asleep.

“Sorry, pretty bird,” Din gently pets your hair, “didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Rolling so you’re now facing him, you gently extricate one of your arms from under the covers and run your fingers down the strong line of Din’s jaw, smiling softly at the way his scruff tickles your finger.  Din closes his eyes at your feather light touches.

“Can’t sleep because you’re worried about tomorrow, baby?”

Without opening his eyes, Din nods and leans into your hand, encourage you to give his face more of your soft scratching.  He’ll miss this. Your soothing touch. The way you read him and know his feelings sometimes better than he does himself. And, of course, your sweetness - how you take on his troubles as your own so he never feels alone, and honestly, just how much you care. You care so deeply, about him, about everything, and it tears Din’s heart out that soon your beautiful soul will be marred by what he has planned.

He opens his eyes to what he will forever insist is the most gorgeous sight his eyes will ever behold: you smiling lovingly at him, softened eyes full of fondness, confident that the man you’re gazing at adoringly cherishes you, one who deserves how you cherish him right back, “Whatever happens, Din, we’ll get through it.  Together.  But you should get some sleep, baby - you probably need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

He nods again, he’ll agree to anything you say so not to burden you will extra worry or concern.  Still taking care of him. Always caring for him. Fuck. You’re a heaven he never thought he would find.  Din mirrors your actions, stroking your cheek softly as you smile sleepily at him, his gentle actions doing what they intend - lulling you slowly back to sleep.

“You’re so pretty,” Din whispers, unable to string together something more eloquent; it’s beyond him right now to find the words expressive and articulate enough to describe the beauty he’s looking at.

No matter - your face glows at his compliment, “Thank you, baby. You always make me feel so pretty.”

“You are,” Din’s voice is indulgent and true.

“And you make me feel so safe.”

“You are,” his chest tightens a little at this sentiment.

“So loved,” your voice lilts up a little at this declaration, soaring above the notes of the words and its pretty melody makes Din's heart take flight.

“You are,” Din’s emotions nearly choking him now.

“And so happy,” the look on your sleepy face is tranquil, trusting, content.

“Oh, fuck, pretty bird.  You make me so happy, too,” Din’s voice cracks. It’s such an understatement, in some ways even derivative of how you actually make him feel and yet, not untrue - you make him deliriously happy.

“And loved?”

“Yes, baby, I feel loved,” he grins at the innocence in your voice, though he knows when it comes to the lyricism of your words, nothing you say is by chance.

“And safe?”

“Very safe.”

“And pretty?” and there it is: your silly, teasing grin - wide and self satisfied, like a Cheshire Cat.

Din gives you what you want, “Yes, I feel pretty.”

“You’re the prettiest, Din,” you yawn, eyes ready to close but still crinkled in mischief. Not for the first time he wonders at your playfulness and how you always manage to make laugh. He will miss these lighthearted, carefree moments with you the most, he thinks. Miss making you laugh right back. Oh, your laugh. He wishes there was someway he could record it, to have on hand and replay anytime he needed to lift his spirits.

“Ok, sweetheart. It’s clear you’re delirious.  Time for sleep,” he nuzzles his nose against your neck as you giggle.

“Nope, I’m going to remember every word of this tomorrow morning, pretty man,” you insist, though your languid, sinking body belies the conviction in your tone.

Once he hears your soft, sleepy purrs, Din resumes what he was doing before you woke.  He certainly was not sleeping; he won’t let any of these last remaining moments he has with you go to waste.  Instead, he contents himself just watching you sleep in peace, admiring your beautiful features, unable give them up for even a minute more than he has to - not when he knows that this is the last night he has with you in his arms. 

And so, he appreciates as much of you for as long as he can - soaking in your presence and the warmth of your lithe body against his, feeling your soft calm breaths as your chest rises and falls in your worry free sleep.  He murmuringly declares all his love, devotion and regrets, knowing he will never have a chance to speak these truths directly to your face; so like a coward, he pours them out now, hoping something within you will hear him and always know how deeply he cares for you.  And how very, very sorry he is.  He admires your loveliness for as long as he can, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to the woman he loves until he’s overtaken by exhaustion.

How long is too long?  This is the question you ask yourself at half past 9:00 pm.  When you last saw Din, kissing him goodbye this morning as you left for work, he had reassured you again that he would be careful today and he would check in by nine o'clock.

It’s been an entire day of trying to keep your mind off what Din is doing and failing miserably.  You can’t get the image of your strong hulk of a man - the fighter, the protector - looking so unsure of himself, beaten, frightened.  Anxiously you’ve been awaiting his call all evening, fidgeting and unable to sit still or focus on any task that you attempt to pick up for a distraction.

Is he hurt?

This fear plagues your thoughts starting at 8:00 pm and only intensifies as time ticks by. 

“Fuck it,” you say to Al at 10:00 pm, “I’ll take you for a walk when I get back, ok bud?”  Al looks at you as if to say ‘It’s about time, Lady’ before laying his head back down for a nap that will thankfully be undisturbed by your restlessness.

You fret the entire cab ride to Mando’s, but mercifully, it’s quick.  About to put your key in the lock, it strikes you that it might be a good idea to exercise some caution, so instead, you knock softly.  Worried when Din doesn’t answer right away, you say quietly through the door, “Din, it’s me.  Are you there?  Are you hurt?”

To your relief, you hear the lock start to turn; but when the door finally opens, your stomach drops. 

It’s not Din. 

Instead, Vanessa stands on the other side of the door, half naked - wearing only her underwear and one of Din’s button-up shirts.  You look at each other in silence for what feels like forever; your mind feels foggy, unfocused, but you think you perceive a small smile on her lips.  With every second that passes, the strangling pressure on your heart grows stronger, smothering every loud beat.  Finally, you find your voice, “Is Din here?”

And suddenly he is.  Visible from the doorway and standing only a few steps behind Vanessa, Din’s shirtless and his pants are unbuttoned, as if he had pulled them on in a hurry.  He can’t quite make eye contact with you, and in this moment, any hope that you might have had that this isn’t what it looks like, vanishes. 

Vanessa turns and steps towards Din - as she is about to pass him, she stops at this shoulder and says, loudly, “When you’re done, come back to bed, baby.” Cupping the far side of his face, she pulls him towards her, planting a kiss to the corner of his mouth before she walks off in the direction of the bedroom.

You look away and try to swallow the sob that's trying to claw its way out of your throat.  Din is coming towards you now and instinctively, you back away.  This is not your Din.  Not the Din who always leaves you the last bit of milk for your morning coffee.  Not the Din who holds his hands over your eyes during scary movies, but narrates for you what’s happening because he knows you still want to know.  Not the Din who pledged his love and loyalty to you.  Not your Din.  But your Din is a lie. You think you're going to be sick.

Din watches as you shrink away from him and his heart shatters.  He knows with certainty that he’s lost you.  Yes, this is what he planned for; he needed you to no longer be his. If you weren't his, there would be no incentive for anyone to target you - but seeing you so hurt and being the one to hurt you is more agonizing than he could have prepared for.

He shuts the door so that it’s just the two of you standing in silence in the hall.  Willing yourself to look up, you stare at Din directly, “I came tonight because… I thought you might be hurt.” 

I know, baby, Din laments, I knew you would.  Because you’re considerate and all kindness.  And I leveraged your goodness like a weapon and used it against you.

You pause, still trying to reconcile what you’ve stumbled upon and what you’ve believed up until tonight to be the essence of the man you love.  Didn’t Din assure you that Mandos never cheat?  That he has never and would never?  That you were enough for him?  As if to give him one last chance to somehow offer an explanation that your brain couldn’t conjure up on its own, you continue in a smaller voice, “Just last night you were telling me how happy I make you,” your eyes desperately search his, “How could you do this?”

You do, pretty bird.  You make me so very happy.  Din looks at you with a resigned expression, “I told you… I’m not a good guy.”

You don’t know what you expected – a denial maybe?  Some attempt by Din to comfort you?  An acknowledgement of how he’s betraying a year long relationship that had been one of the happiest of your life?  Somehow this stoic non-response stings just as much as the cheating. 

“No. You’re not,” you whisper.

Din can only look at you sadly, eyes downcast in shame.  No, I’m not, pretty bird.  Finally.  You acknowledge the very truth that Din’s been running from since he met you.  You and your goodness had almost convinced him that despite the things he’s done in the past, or what his connections and ties are, he might be good too - good enough for you.  But a man worthy of you wouldn’t place you in danger just by association; the man you deserve would never betray your sweetness or belief in him by leading you into darkness without your knowledge.

“… you’re an asshole.”

“I am.  I’m sorry.”  It’s the most truth he can offer you tonight.

The tears are coming now and there isn’t anything you can do to stop them.  Your body is screaming at you to leave, to get yourself far away from Din and the flaming wreckage of what you thought was a true and deep love - one you had given all of yourself to and for which you were now left with only questions that you know will never be answered.  “I never want to see you again,” you manage to choke out.

Din is grateful for the small grace that he won’t have to lie to you again.  “You won’t.  I promise,” he whispers, devastated.

And with that, you turn and flee.

---

Din stays standing on the landing until he hears the downstairs door slam; you never turned around and he is suddenly very aware that he will never look upon your face again.  The realization hits him with a force the tips him against his door; he closes his wet eyes and rests there for a minute before going back into his apartment.  When he turns from closing his door, he finds Vanessa standing in the living room, looking at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Din sighs. “Well, what?”

“Is it done?”

Is what done? Is he done breaking the heart of the only woman he’s ever truly loved?  Is he done ruining the best thing that’s happened to him a long time?  Destroying something that’s brought a light to his life he never thought was possible?  He supposes it is done.

Din sighs and nods.  He’s not unappreciative of Vanessa’s help, but she represents everything he’s broken tonight, “Thank you for your help, Vanessa.  Do you need a ride? I can drop you off on my way.”

Vanessa smiles coyly, “Right now?  I thought we could…” she lets her voice trail off, looking eagerly at Din.  But when he remains unmoved, face dispassionate and detached, she takes the more direct route, “I mean, she already thinks we had sex.  We might as well actually have sex.”

Din doesn’t have any fight left in him; he just needs tonight to be over, “I don’t think we can do that, Vanessa.  I have to go, are you sure I can’t offer you a ride?”

She dresses as she gathers her things, annoyed, “Where do you have to go?  Are you going after her?”  Hands on her hips, she looks at him in disbelief, “Din. She hates you.”

“I know she does.  But I still want to make sure she makes it home okay.”

Exasperated, Vanessa storms past Din and out the door, ignoring his offer of a ride and for the second time in ten minutes, Din hears his downstairs door slamming closed. 

---

Din expects you make it to your apartment before him, but he has enough time to park his truck and find a spot where he won’t be seen before he sees you come downstairs with Al.  Your pretty face is ashen and a look of shock is still written on your face.  With a lump in his throat, he watches you let Al do his business and the ensuing tug of war between you and your dog, both intent on going in opposite directions.

His chest aches when he hears you cry as you kneel down, “I’m sorry buddy, I can’t take you for a long walk tonight.  I’m sorry.”

Your sweet pup shows you the compassion and care that Din can’t offer you, allowing you to lead him back into the building without further fuss.

Din stands on the sidewalk, looking up at your apartment far into the night.  He experiences a sinking sensation of déjà vu, remembering the last time he was in this position – when he ended things with you after your third date.  What a fool he is, letting go of his perfect match twice; the finality of his actions this time leaves no hope in his chest.  And so, Din remains rooted where he stands, not moving even when his legs start to protest; he barely registers your security detail coming over to check on him.  Jimmy’s calls of his name or questions as to what happened are unable to cut through the dull droning in Din’s head of his own failings.  Called in by an panicked Mayfeld, Paz arrives a short while later; upon seeing Din’s near catatonic state, he intuits with disbelief what Din did tonight.  With some difficulty, Paz draws Din away and back towards his vehicle – Din never even hears his best friend’s insistent whispers that things will be okay and that they have to go.  His head is filled only with you and a sad recitation that drowns out all other voices: I’m sorry, pretty bird.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Bc I'm not posting on my usual day, tagging a few people that have been so patient with me and supported this series. Ty ilysm 🥹 @tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

[slytherinshua]

CRACK UNDER PRESSURE genre ➳ academic rivals to lovers. hurt/comfort. fluff. warnings ➳ throwing up. crying. reader is burnt out/stressed/insecure. pairing ➳ leehan x fem!reader. wc ➳ 1.4k. a/n ➳ from anon, here..

“And the first place winner of the annual KOZ math competition goes to… Kim Donghyun!!”

You felt a tinge of disappointment as you heard those words for the fifth time this competition season. You felt nauseous watching the boy walk up on stage, a perfect smile forming on his face, brightening up the room. You wanted to be as perfect as him. You would never even compare to him, though.

You could feel the tears starting to build in your eyes and you panicked. You didn’t want to cry at another event, it was embarrassing. You tried to breathe steadily, focusing on Leehan’s melodic voice as he thanked the judges and took his trophy. He turned and smiled at you and your heart got caught in your chest.

You rushed out of the auditorium. When you reached the bathroom, you were already heaving in harsh coughs. You hadn’t eaten much that day so there wasn’t much to discard, but it was still painful. You sobbed and sunk to the floor of the fancy bathrooms in the school. 

You were mad at everyone. At Leehan for being so perfect, and your parents for pressuring you to beat him when they knew deep down you couldn’t, but most of all you were mad at yourself. Why couldn’t you take the losses like a normal person? Why did you always cry and throw up and feel so sick after every competition? You were so tired of it.

You heard a soft knock on the door and looked up from your position on the floor, wiping your tears off your face hastily. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” It was Leehan.

Your throat got tight again and fresh tears threatened to spill just from hearing his voice. Why was he always like this? 

“Y/n? Can I come in?” He whispered, waiting for your answer. You couldn’t find it in you to speak just yet. Your throat felt raw and burned from your body’s actions just minutes ago. “If you don’t answer, I’m gonna come in.” He said finally. There was another pause for about 2 minutes before you finally heard the door latch clicking open and light streaming into the rest room where you still sat on the cold tile floor.

“Y/n…” You looked up, hearing your name fall from his lips. He looked horrified. You had never seen his eyes hold such obvious worry. He was by your side in an instant, pushing back the hair that had fallen in your face and rubbing circles on your back.

“Leehan…” You whispered, feeling all types of disgusting, both physically and mentally. You wanted to flinch away from him, scared at the thought that he was seeing your imperfect side, but you didn’t have the strength and it would only scare him more.

Leehan crouched next to you for the next twenty minutes, waiting patiently until you calmed down fully, his hand never resting the soft motions on your back. The little action made you realise that you liked him a little more than you originally thought, and that came along with a twinge of disappointment knowing that you didn’t feel good enough for him.

//

The next day in class was a hard one. Despite Leehan’s soft smiles whenever he made eye contact with you, the loss of the previous day still held firmly in your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on your tests in class, let alone the lessons. You had always found getting straight A’s to be easy, but you now felt as if you didn’t have any more effort to put into your grades.

Leehan was probably the first to notice your change in demeanour. The competition day was constantly playing on repeat in his brain. He could read you perfectly from your eyes which was both a blessing and a curse for him. He cared about you more than you knew. Whenever he could tell that you were struggling it tore him up inside, but you were so good at concealing it that barely anyone else picked up on it.

“Hey,” Leehan mumbled, taking a seat in front of you and carefully passing you a chocolate milk.

“Hey…” You replied, keeping your eyes firmly situated on your notes. You had already spent too much of the day staring at the pretty boy in front of you, any longer and he might notice.

“Are you doing better?” There was a softness in his tone, portraying just how worried he had been. Your heart swelled a bit as you toyed with the small carton of chocolate milk. Should you tell him the truth?

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“I promise I won’t.” He held out his pinky to you, offering a pinky promise which made you smile. You connected your fingers and stamped on it. Leehan didn’t let go of your hand, instead lacing his fingers with yours and placing his hand back on the desk, prompting you to start talking whenever you felt ready.

“My parents put this immense pressure on me to do well… And when I was younger, it was manageable. But, everything is so much more competitive in high school. No matter how hard I try, I just… keep falling behind.” Your words were getting quieter and more mumbled as you felt your nose start to burn and tears start to surface. You furiously tried to blink them back. You had already cried in front of Leehan one time this week.

Leehan squeezed your hand gently, picking up on the switch in your body language quicker than anyone else ever would. Leehan prided himself in his observation skills, and if there was anyone he wanted to observe, it was you. He found himself starting to make small circles on your smaller hand with his thumb, hoping to provide what little comfort he could. He felt that he was being rather obvious with his hopeless crush on you, but that was the last of his worries at the current moment.

He stayed with you for the rest of the afternoon, listening to all your worries. He didn’t try to solve your problems. He knew that would only stress you out more. He just lended you his ear to listen to your concerns, and his hand for you to hold. And that was all you ever needed.

With the help of Leehan, you built up the confidence to quit your competitions. With the promise to focus on your academic record and keeping your grades up, your parents, surprisingly, understood where you were coming from. 

Leehan promised that he would make sure you didn’t overwork yourself, and he kept up with it like his life depended on it. He would study with you, enforcing mandatory study breaks every hour. He would treat you to lunch or dinner, and always walk you home. What was once more of a rivalry was starting to feel more like a friendship. Leehan was the most comfortable to be around, and your feelings only grew for him everyday. 

“First place: Kim Donghyun!” You mimicked one of the judges' booming voices, teasing Leehan about his win at the science fair earlier that day. He was walking you home after dinner, the sun was just starting to tuck itself behind the horizon line, a glowing orange and pink sunset lighting up the sky before being consumed by a deep dark blue. Giggles came next out of your mouth and Leehan felt his heart speed up at the sound. You were happy again.

Leehan stopped walking, turning his face to you, “Your laughter is so… pretty.” Your heart caught in your throat at his words. The way he smiled at you made you feel almost dizzy. You didn’t know what to do except stare at him. He looked too perfect, like a Greek God; face perfectly sculpted, smile gorgeously crafted with the power to make you feel sickly in love.

He pulled you into his arms, getting shy from your gaze on him and needing to hide his pink cheeks somehow. The position only made you more flustered, though. He was so, so close. The thought of kissing him was on your mind, but you knew you didn’t have the confidence to do it.

Luckily, Leehan did. He held your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours slowly, carefully. His lips held all the sentiments that he hadn’t said out loud. 

I’m proud of you. 

I’m happy if you’re happy.

I love you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @metalchick529

[odoraful]

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔

being newly employed at wangshu inn has not been easy. when you're unable to conceal your emotions any longer, you call on xiao to comfort you in a time of need

content: xiao x gn!reader; hurt/comfort (but the ratio of hurt to comfort is like 60/40); established relationship; mentions of stress relating to work; xiao being very gentle; 2k

a/n: chat i miss him so much can someone call hoyoverse to get him back into the storyline :’( i wrote this in like one day because i was so overcome with emotion 🤧 so i apologise if there are any errors!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was no use. With each ragged inhale and exhale you took, your breathing just became shakier. What had Baizhu told you before? Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight. Every gulp of air you took filled your lungs and burned your insides as you tried to hold it in. You coughed, expelling the air out, vision glazed by the tears welling in your eyes. Clutching your chest, you sank to the floor, using the bed to support your back. Fortunately, you made it to your room in Wangshu Inn, where the cumulative stress of the days and weeks that had formed cracks in your exterior had broken. Emotions finally flooded outwards like raging waters. 

The setting sun casted an orange glow in the room, basking the space in its warm light through the open door to the balcony. Though the heat on your skin provided some small measure of comfort, it wasn't nearly enough to dispel the numbness in your body.

You didn’t want to be here alone.

Your mind immediately drifted to one name. The one person who you could call, who had told you to call whenever you were in trouble. Night was quickly approaching. Perhaps he was already out on his patrol, or busy with other errands needed by the Yaksha. 

Selfish. That’s what your request felt like. But you needed him with you now. You would listen to his scolding about frivolous uses of his summons afterwards when your mind was less clouded. 

You uttered quietly. The word was spoken from just under your breath that you didn’t know if the name would even take hold in space. If the name would even reach his ears using whatever power the bond between the two of you had created. 

“Xiao.” 

In the instant the syllable left your lips, wisps of glowing green materialised at your side. In the millisecond following, Xiao appeared in the room, body poised for battle. Spear gripped in his palms, knuckles whitening, his head frantically whipped around the room in search of an answer to his question as he heard your call:

What man or creature had made the grave mistake of harming you? 

You looked up at him from where you were seated on the floor, his silhouette back lit by the sun. The tears that had filled your eyes rolled down your cheeks. Your mouth was parted, wanting to greet him but the words clogged up your throat. Instead, you offered a shaky smile. 

Not even bothering to disapparate his spear, it clattered to the ground as Xiao fell to his knees immediately, meeting at your level. 

His face was contorted with pain, as if he himself had been struck with a fatal blow. “Who did this to you?” He begged, holding your arm in desperation. 

Your heart twisted. You have never seen this expression on him, a mixture of fear and anger. Certainly not towards you, but towards your unseen assailant.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sniffed. It was all you could muster saying. 

Xiao shook his head. “Your apologies are unnecessary.” He said firmly, eyes trying to meet your shifting gaze. “Who hurt you?”

Gaining information was the utmost priority. He needed to know what had happened so he could protect you from whoever had threatened you. You wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks and at your nose which began to run.

“I’m not hurt physically.” Your pitch was too high as you spoke, a poor attempt at trying to keep the situation light. 

He blinked, confused. “But your voice…” His eyes darted around your body, looking for any visible signs of injury. 

You wrapped your arms around your knees, bowing your head. “I’m sorry for calling you.” 

Xiao leaned in closer to you, head tilted to try and meet your gaze. You buried your face into your knees.

“Your apologies are unnecessary,” he emphasised once again, tone softening. It was apparent there were no immediate signs of danger, but the situation was still unresolved. He decided to broaden his question: “What happened?”

You closed your eyes. Where should you begin? There wasn’t any specific event that caused this, but rather a build up of concealed feelings overtime. The fatigue caught up to you at this moment. Too tired to keep things together, to hold everything back.  

Slowly, you began to open up. Bits and pieces came out as you tried to recollect events in the past weeks. Things you have been holding back from your partner for a while now. You almost felt silly for telling him such trivial things. Mistakes that you continuously made at work, difficulties with customers, dealing with all the bureaucracy to reach the Liyue Qixing. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you had to take some moments to even out your breathing and wipe away tears before you could continue. You didn’t look at Xiao, your eyes glued to the floorboards of the room.

He didn’t say anything, letting you speak freely wherever your thoughts led and listening closely.

Torturous. It was torturous for Xiao to see you like this and not be able to do anything. Worse than the weight of karmic debt he had shouldered for centuries. That same karmic debt had been lightened ever since you had gotten closer, and closer. Verr Goldet had been in charge of the introductions, seeing as you were the latest addition to the inn’s team, and Xiao was the inn’s long standing guest. He would never admit love at first sight, but your shy smile juxtaposed by your hearty laugh lingered in his head long after you had been dismissed to complete the day’s work. Overtime, your very presence soothed him. He questioned if he could do the same for you now. 

“You have been holding onto this for so long?” He asked, strain escaping in his voice. 

Every time you beamed at Xiao when he asked how your day was, it was all a cover-up. You didn’t want to put more of a burden on him on top of his responsibilities. 

You nodded, throat dried up from talking. 

Xiao moved to sit beside you. He rested his back on the bed, legs folded. Wielding weapons and fighting monsters was what he was undeniably skilled at, but he knew the subtleties of comforting someone were lost on him. He could not speak flowery words, or shower you with luxury like he’d seen some mortals do to their partner when they were feeling down. 

“I-Is there anything I can do to help?” 

If he couldn’t find his own way, he thought it best to ask you what you needed. You let out a choked sob hearing those words. Something so simple, yet so valuable.

Wordlessly, you grazed your finger against his hand, wanting to hold him. He turned his palm upwards in invitation. Your hand slipped into his, fitting perfectly in his grasp. Xiao was startled by how cold your touch was. 

“You’re freezing.” Concern laced his voice. “May I…” 

He turned his body around towards you, not crossing the space in-between just yet. He awaited your answer. You nodded frantically, needing him closer to you. Xiao released your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him. You automatically threw your own arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His body was warm, so warm. He had probably been outside in Dihua Marsh in the afternoon, soaking up the sun. The stiffness in your body melted away. You inhaled and exhaled as deeply as you could, the pressure against your chest lifting.  You held him tighter, feeling the rhythmic beating of his heart that grounded you to this moment. 

“I thought you were going to be mad at me for calling you over nothing life threatening…” you murmured in his neck. It was close enough to his ear that he could hear.

He winced at your words. Him getting angry at you? Was that even possible for him? The fact that you thought you couldn’t call on him for any kind of help rocked him to his core. All the hardships you experienced were not unimportant to him. He knew that a thousand apologies would not be enough. He’d have to make sure you trusted him. 

“I promised I would come if you called.” He consoled, rubbing small circles into your back. “I am not someone who breaks promises so easily. Especially for you.” Those last words came out in a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. 

Xiao noticed the slight tremble in your body and realised sitting on a hardwood floor would not do at all. He slowly pulled away, just enough so he could see you, hoping that you would look back at him. 

“You should rest in bed.”  

Finally gaining the courage to meet his eyes, you found a tenderness in his gaze that was reserved only for you. Humming affirmatively, Xiao lifted you off the ground, an arm around your back and behind your knees. As he carried you up, you realised just how lightheaded you were. 

“Need to take…” your voice trailed off as you fumbled with the buttons of your outer clothing. 

He sat you up on the bed. Gently, he unlaced your shoes and set them on the floor. He unclasped the buttons of your outer dress and helped to pull it over your arms and head, taking great care not to hurt you. Peeling off the layers, the constriction eased further. For someone who proclaimed to be unaware of the nuances of mortal affection, when Xiao wasn’t thinking about what was the right or wrong thing to do, he seemed natural at it. Even the smallest gestures proved to be the right ones. He drew the covers over you as you laid a tired head on your pillow. 

Hesitantly, he swept some hair off your forehead that got tousled in the process of removing your clothes. You nuzzled into his touch. He held his breath. Hand stilled millimetres from your face. He continued to comb a hand through your hair and you softly sighed with content. Xiao made a mental note to himself to remember that you enjoyed when he played with your hair. Relaxing deeper, you found you could finally breathe properly. 

“Do not be afraid to speak to me. I will listen to anything you have to say,” he comforted. 

“Thank you.” You croaked, voice becoming lost. “And I’m sor-”

He shook his head. “Do not apologise, please.” His eyes pleaded with you. “I should be the one to apologise, for making you feel like you could not talk to me.” 

You opened your mouth to object, wanting to say that he was the very last person that should be apologising, but he continued, cutting off your sentence. Knowing how stubborn you were, perhaps he knew what you were about to say and didn’t want you to speak falsehoods, absolving his own responsibility in this. 

“You should save your strength. I will speak to Verr Goldet about your absence tomorrow so you can rest.” 

The argument you had fizzled out as the ache in your body set in, pushing you to slumber. Under the lull of Xiao’s hand combing through your hair, your eyes unconsciously drooped closed. 

You trusted him to stay by your side for the night, and he did. After you had fallen asleep, he went to close the door to the balcony to keep the cold air out. Bringing a wooden chair bedside, he observed the steady rise and fall of the covers. Disappointment at his own lack of awareness at what you were going through twinged within him. Past Xiao might have cowered at this feeling. Using this as an excuse for him to fall into recluse. But as he watched your peaceful form, illuminated by what little light remained outside, he silently thanked every Archon that you were safe and here with him. Tomorrow was a new day, a chance for him to ease your burdens. 

If you had been awake at that moment and seen the anguish in Xiao’s face, you would have cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. Your touch would be cold, but your lips warm and soft. You would have told him:

I called, and you came to protect me, like you always promised.

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[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

here’s the plan

pairing: boyfriend hyunjin x f. reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of periods

request: “I don’t know if there is any rules for requesting. But can I get a Hyunjin x reader, where the reader starts her period in a public place and he’s really understanding and sweet about it. (Actually happened to me ☠️) it can be a short drabble. It’s ok if you don’t wanna. Thanks babes!”

masterlist

You hadn’t been dating hyunjin very long. And today was the first day you were meeting all of his friends. It was awkward enough meeting new people, but this was seven other men. Just you and your boyfriend and seven other men. You were stressed. You and hyunjin arrived at the restaurant before everyone else. You got your table and started looking at the menus.

“What do you think you will get, my sweet? Does anything sound good?” He was looking down at his menu as he asked, but you had forgotten the menu entirely. You dropped it as a sharp pain clenched your lower abdomen. You brought your hands to your stomach. Ouch. The sound of the menu smacking the table caused his attention to shift to you. He took in the pained look on your face, your arms wrapped around yourself. “What’s the matter?” He asked, setting his own menu down.

“It’s nothing, Jinnie.” You told him. Was this pain because you were nervous about meeting his friends? You couldn’t recall a time where you were so nervous that it was physically painful, but there’s a first time for everything. You picked up the menu again and began looking. Just then a man approached the table. Hyunjin looked up.

“Chan hyung!” He said, excitedly.

You looked up to see a man smiling down at both of you, dimples in his cheeks. He sat down across from you.

“Hyung this is y/n.” He gestured toward you. “Y/n this is Chan.”

“Hello.” You said, giving him a gentle wave. You grabbed one of the extra menus that were between you and hyunjin and leaned across the table to hand it to Chan. But, when you leaned you felt something. Oh no. Not now. Please not now. Was it time for your period already? In the excitement and stress of meeting his friends you must have forgotten about your cycle. You tried to remain calm and do the math in your head. Shifting back to your original sitting position, you felt it again. You were starting to panic.

“Jinnie, I’m going to go find the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You said, kind of frantic.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, quietly. He didn’t want to alert Chan if something really was wrong.

“No, no I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You rose from the table and headed to the back of the restaurant, down a hallway, toward a sign that said ‘bathrooms’. You rushed into the women’s, just a one seater, and locked the door behind you. At least there wouldn’t be anyone else in the bathroom to witness your panic. You pulled your pants down to reveal… a red stain. And a pretty large one at that. It went through your underwear and stained your pants. What were you going to do? You didn’t have any supplies with you, there was no tampon dispenser on the wall (do they even have those anymore?) not that you had any change to buy one even if there was a dispenser. You started pacing. You couldn’t go back out there and meet all of his friends with a big red stain on your ass. Tears were starting to spring to your eyes.

Knock knock

“Uh, someone’s in here! Just a sec!” You called.

“Baby, it’s me.” You heard hyunjin say, quietly from outside. “Is everything okay?”

You were about to cry. Everything was definitely not okay.

You cracked the door open to find his worried face staring down at you. You looked up at him, glassy eyes brimming with tears that have yet to overflow.

“Baby what’s wrong?” He said, grabbing your face. “Is this too much? Meeting the guys? We can wait.” His thumb rubbed back and forth across your cheek.

“No, Jin it’s not that.” You swallowed, a little nervous. This relationship was still so new. Was he going to be disgusted?

“What is it, honey? Tell me.” He looked so sweet, so caring and genuinely worried about you.

“I started my period.” You blurted out. “I started and I don’t have any tampons or anything with me. And there’s a huge stain on the back of my pants and all your friends are waiting out there, and I’m kind of freaking out.” You were rambling.

He looked over his shoulder both ways to make sure no one was looking before saying “scooch over, let me in.” He gently nudged his way past you, into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“What are you-?” You began.

“Turn around, let me see.”

Embarrassed, you turned your back to him.

“Oh, baby it’s not that bad.” You turned back to face him, and he was removing his hoodie. What was happening right now? “Here. Put this on.”

You weren’t sure where he was going with this, but you did as he said. His hoodie was large, it swallowed your body, falling well over your ass and landing mid thigh. You were starting to understand. The sleeves were long, but you liked the sweater paws. That made you happy. You looked down at your hands, swallowed by the material. You noticed a small tag on the end of the right sleeve. Versace.

“Hyunjin, this is a Versace sweater.” You said, baffled.

“Yeah, okay?” He replied.

You began to take the sweater back off. “Im not about to bleed all over your thousand dollar sweater.” You told him. He tugged at the hem, stopping you, and putting the sweater back right.

“I promise, you’re more important than this sweater.” Your heart melted at his words. “Now, here’s the plan.”

•

Exiting the bathroom, surrounded by his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, you tried your best to look nauseous. Which wasn’t all that hard. You really didn’t feel good. You both slowly approached the table which was now surrounded by people, chatting (not so quietly) to each other.

“Guys, y/n isn’t feeling very well.” Hyunjin said, squeezing your shoulders. “I think we’re going to have to reschedule this date.”

“Oh no,” one of them said, pushing his blond hair out of his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Felix. She’s just a little sick to her stomach. I should really get her home.”

“So sorry, guys. I was really looking forward to hanging out.” You told them.

“That’s okay. Feel better and we’ll try again later.” Said another, this one with really big muscles.

You gave him a small smile and hyunjin started to usher you toward the door.

“Take good care of her.” Chan said to hyunjin just as he pushed you out the door.

Once outside he pulled you in close and kissed the top of your head. “Movie at my place instead? There’s a pharmacy on the corner. We’ll stop in there for your supplies and some snacks.”

You looked up at him. He was smiling down at you, still squeezing you gently. You were staring to think this relationship was really going to work out.

an: thanks for sending in requests! i’m working on some fake text ones rn. 💕 this is an old request from my dead blog hyunjins-orange-slice. currently on mine, so i thought it was a good time to post this. 😅

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[btsficsandsuch]

Everything’s Going to Be Okay

You’re going through a rough time and your husband Yoongi is there to be the support that you need.

Warning: Mentions of depression/anxiety, specifically postpartum depression and anxiety.

I wrote this as kind of a therapy. I mentioned that part of the reason I was starting to write again was because of my anxiety. I have a newborn at home and postpartum anxiety is no joke and I wish I had someone as supportive as this Yoongi in my life. It really does get easier though and I’m starting to feel better.

——————————————————————————

You never thought motherhood would be this hard. You expected the physical pain and the sleepless nights, but you never expected the mental toll it would take on you. Maybe struggling with anxiety long before you gave birth definitely wasn’t helping, but you noticed a significant decline in your mental health once your son was born. Your husband Yoongi noticed this as well.

Your anxiety was starting to become debilitating. Were you a good enough mom? Are you doing everything right? Were you still being a good wife? Does your son love you? What will his future look like? All these thoughts ran through your head day after day.

Yoongi tried his hardest to be there for you in any way that he could. He managed to get a few weeks off to be able to stay at home with you and your son. He kept up on all the household chores making sure the house stayed clean and organized for you. He cooked you three meals a day and made sure you stayed hydrated. He’d wake up with you at 3am when it was time to feed your son though you told him several times he didn’t have to since there wasn’t much he was able to do, but he insisted that if you had to wake up so would he even if it was just to offer moral support.

He was the perfect partner which you should’ve been so happy about, but it just made you feel guilty. You have a beautiful healthy son and a husband who’d walk to the ends of the earth for you and you still couldn’t make yourself to feel happy.

When your son was 6 weeks old it was time for Yoongi to go back to work. He was worried about you, “Y/N I can talk to them and see if I can get more time off. I don’t want to leave you yet.” The two of you were laying in bed together just after Yoongi’s alarm had gone off signaling it was time for him to go. You wrapped your arms around his waist even tighter, “No babe it’s okay. You’ve missed so much as it is. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Deep down you were worried. You were struggling with Yoongi around so you didn’t know how you were going to manage without him here, but you didn’t want him to give up everything because you couldn’t handle it.

You were sitting on the couch holding your son when Yoongi came walking over car keys in hand. He leaned down and kissed your son, “Be a good boy for your mom alright. She’s doing her best so go easy on her.” He then turned his attention to you, “Please call me if you need anything Y/N. I already let the company know that I won’t hesitate to leave if I need to. My mom also said she’s just a phone call away if you need any thing.” You nodded as he leaned in for a kiss and you watched him walk out out the door.

The first few hours were surprisingly easy. Your son was napping and you were even able to get some stuff done around the house. Yoongi checked on you every hour, asking if you needed anything. You kept thinking how lucky you were to have someone like him. Someone that added so much extra stress to their own life just to try and ease the stress in yours. You were mid thought when the guilt set in. Yoongi was making his life harder because you were weak. He was constantly worried about you because you weren’t able to cope. He couldn’t fully enjoy the first few weeks of his sons life because he had to constantly dote on you because you couldn’t get this right.

You could feel the panic attack starting. It was getting difficult to breathe. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Your body was beginning to sweat. Luckily your son was still sound asleep in his crib. You decided to try and get your mind off of things. You put a load of laundry in the dryer and decided to start on dinner. You were chopping some vegetables trying your best to get this attack to pass when you heard your son start crying through the baby monitor.

You walked to his nursery and brought him with you over to the rocking chair. You began to feed him staring into his tiny eyes. “I’m so sorry Y/S/N. I’m sorry I’m not a good mom. I’m really trying. I promise I’ll get better. But even if I don’t you have the best daddy in the world and he’ll always be there for you when I can’t.” He finished his feed and you changed his diaper and set him back in the crib.

While staring at his perfect little face it hit you in full force. Tears streaming down your face you walked into the hallway and slid down onto the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest finally letting out the sobs you had been holding in. Worried that you wouldn’t be able to take care of your son properly you made the phone call you never thought you’d make.

Yoongi picked up on the second ring, “Y/N are you okay?” You couldn’t say anything. “Y/N tell me what’s wrong.”, he said the concern evident in his voice. “I’m sorry.”, was all you could say between sobs. “Stay right there Y/N. I’m already in my car and I’m on the way.”

You didn’t know what to do. Normally you’d go for a walk or take a hot shower to calm your anxiety, but you knew you needed to be close for your son in case he needed you. You sat outside his nursery and cried. Just when you thought you had run out of tears Yoongi walked through the door. He came right over and crouched down helping you to your feet, “I’m just going to check on Y/S/N real quick okay. Stay right here.” You nodded and watched him walk into the nursery. Yoongi smiled looking down at his baby boy, peacefully sleeping.

Yoongi walked back out and took your hand leading you to the bathroom. He turned on the shower to the temperature he knew you liked. He helped you take off your clothes and undo your hair from the bun it had been in for the last week, “I’ll keep an eye on Y/S/N. Take your time and come out when you’re ready.” You nodded and stepped into the steamy shower. The water hot enough to calm the ache in your chest, but just below the point of burning you. Once again Yoongi was there for you and knew how to help you and all you did was force him to come home early and take care of you.

You spent a while in the shower trying to wash away all the anxiety and guilt and depression. When you got out of the shower you noticed Yoongi had placed your favorite sweats and one of his T-shirts on the counter for you.

When you walked into the bedroom Yoongi was sitting on the bed. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to sit next to him. You tried to pull away, “I need to go feed Y/S/N.” Yoongi shook his head, “I fed him with one of the emergency bottles. He’s sleeping comfortably.” “Well I need to go finish dinner so you have something to eat.”, you said trying to avoid the conversation you knew was about to take place. He shook his head again, “I already ordered some takeout.”

You nodded and the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes until Yoongi began, “Y/N I’m sorry.” You couldn’t hold the tears any longer. You buried your face in his neck wrapping your arms around him, “No I’m sorry Yoongi. I’m the worst wife and mother. I should be happy but I’m not. And all I do is make you worry about me. You have to stop your life to take care of me. I don’t know how to make these feelings go away.”

You cried into his shoulder for several minutes while he slowly rubbed your back. Once he felt like you had calmed down some he lifted your chin so that you were looking at him, “Y/N it’s normal to feel these things. You’ve been through so much over the last couple months. Hell even the nine months before that. You are the best mom. Y/S/N is always fed and changed and loved. Even today when you had a breakdown you still made sure he was taken care of and the first thing you thought of when you got out of the shower was making sure he was okay. And you’ve always been and still are the best wife I could’ve ever asked for. Even in your distressed state you’re worried about making sure I have dinner to eat. You gave me the best gift ever of a child and now it’s my turn to be there for you and give you everything that I can by being whatever you need. We’ll take it day by day. I know things are tough right now, but everything will be okay.”

You could feel the tears start again, a mix of sad tears and happy tears. “How did I get so lucky?”, you said before kissing his cheek. Yoongi smiled, “Have you looked in the mirror lately? I think I’m the lucky one.” You gave him another kiss before getting up to leave the room.

You grabbed your son and brought him out to the living room with you. Yoongi sat on the couch next to you feeding you bites of your dinner while you fed your son. Yoongi’s words repeated in your head. You were going through a rough time, but you had your beautiful son to watch grow up and you had the best support system in Yoongi. You knew he’d never let you fall and just like he’s said, Everything’s going to be okay.

[multifandomlover01]

Making Do

Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader

WC: ~1.7k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI oral (male receiving), Spencer being a tiny bit needy and inconsiderate, man and woman touching each other’s private areas

Disclaimer: probably not the most accurate depiction of disability or of sex with a physical disability. My apologies if any person gets offended by this fic.

Summary: Spencer and his wife have to make do with what intimacy they are able to get after he’s shot in the knee

Set during: early S5

Gif credit: toyboxboy

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby…your knee...” you said hesitantly as you stood naked in the bedroom that you shared with your husband.

“Please, baby, please. We’ll make it work. I just…I need you. Please.” He pleaded.

“Ok…” He is lying on his back on the bed and you come to stand beside him. You unbuckle his belt and carefully pull his pants and boxers down just a bit to reveal his already half hard cock.

You take it in one hand and stroke him lightly. His head falls back against the pillow as he moans softly. He props himself up on an elbow and reaches his other hand out to caress your hair.

“See? This is fine.” He smiles at you.

“We’ll just have to make do.” You smile back.

“Mhm.” He nods in agreement.

You continue to stroke his cock more. He moans more. He grasps your hair lightly and attempts to guide your mouth to his cock. You brace your body and resist his attempts.

“Spencer Reid, is that any way to treat your wife?” You chastise lightly.

He pouts lightly. “N-no…I’m sorry. I just…I need you so badly. Your hand is so soft but…I need more, baby. Please?” He breaks out the puppy dog eyes.

“Ok, ok. Fine.” You get on the bed and crouch beside him. His hand immediately goes to caress your back. He then slips his hair tie off his wrist and pulls your hair back before you lean forward and kiss the tip of his cock. You swirl your tongue around it before enveloping the tip with your lips and sucking lightly.

“Oh god.” He says softly as he caressed your back and butt. His hand then travels up to your hair and he grasps the ponytail lightly.

“Can I push you down, baby?” He asks sweetly, making up for his lack of restraint from earlier. You nod, humming affirmatively around his tip, making his breath hitch.

You hollow out your cheeks and slacken your jaw as he slowly pushes your head down on his cock, being careful to allow you time and space to adjust. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable or to choke or gag (not that his cock is long or thick enough to make you do either of those things).

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Feels so good. Don’t hurt yourself. Just suckle a lit-ah!” He cuts himself off as you suck on the tip of his cock before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down as you sucked on him.

“Good god, woman.” He hissed. You chuckled around his cock and it vibrated and he moaned. His grip on you loosened as it often did early on. You just felt too good. He was more inclined to let you do your own thing than to guide you. You knew what you were doing and he was comfortable letting you do it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long with the way you were sucking him off. You were always so good at it. You knew what he liked. He loved how comfortable the two of you were with each other. But this hasn’t been discussed to be just a quick stress reliever. He’d wanted to be intimate with his wife for the first time since he’d gotten shot.

“Love, love, s-stop…don’ wanna cum jus’ yet.” He slurred slightly (his head was lust fuzzy) as he lightly pushed you away from his cock.

“You can’t exactly fuck me properly, Spencer.”

“What’s “properly”? You won’t hurt me too much on top.”

“I’m moving on you…bouncing…your knee will be moved too. You can’t be on top because you can’t put weight on your knee or get into that position and I can’t either because the movement would probably cause you pain. That’s what I meant by properly.”

He pouts. You’re right, of course.

“But I can still pleasure you and you can still pleasure me.” You offered.

“Not properly.” He murmurs.

“What’s “properly”?” You throw his words back at him. “Giving me an orgasm isn’t proper?”

“I just…I wanna be able to please you, you know?”

“And you can. Intimacy is just gonna look different for us for a bit. But that’s ok. We’ll get through this. I promise. Here." You lay down beside him. You take his hand in yours and squeeze it. He squeezes back. You guide his hand down your torso, your stomach and abdomen. He takes the time to admire the softness of your skin before you are gliding his fingers in between your legs, over your mound and across your folds. You're wet. He shudders. You let go of his hand and he keeps his hand there, cupping your sex.

You bring your hand over to take his cock in it, stroking it lightly. This causes him to take a sharp breath. He was so close to release before he'd made you get off his cock. He'd missed you so much he wasn't embarrassed about how fast he was going to cum. After all...what husband wouldn't want to brag that their wife could make them cum in five minutes or less? He understands sometimes it is a joke that guys don't have stamina but at least he knows he isn't passing out immediately after and not giving his wife an orgasm with his tongue for her efforts.

"Touch me, hon. Please. Play with me." You say as you continue to stroke his cock.

Your lewdness makes him moan softly. You weren't usually like this in front of friends or anyone but him. You were professional and poised in the workplace. But in the bedroom you could be an entirely different person sometimes. He absolutely loved that he was the only person who got to see this part of you.

His fingers move over your sex. They quickly find your clit and start to rub. He quickly finds a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby. Come on. Play with my clit. Make me feel good. You know how to.”

Emboldened by your words of encouragement, he concentrated hard on playing you like an instrument. He wants you to make beautiful music for him. He dips a finger into you while still rubbing your clit. He pumps in and out.

“Mmm…so good, love. You know my pussy so well.” You murmur.

Your persistent lewdness and your strokes intensify the pleasure he feels. He shudders, increasing his pace and slipping another finger in, which earns him the most delicious moan from your lips as you increase your stroking pace on him, earning you the most delicious whimper from his lips.

“Please…‘m so close.” He whispers as he increases the pace of his fingers inside of you, enjoying the way your walls suck his fingers in as he curls them against your special spot.

“Yeah? You’re close, baby?” You ask as you swipe your thumb over his tip, which causes him to yelp.

“Yes! Please, baby, please!” He unashamedly begs you to let him cum.

“Wanna cum for me, honey? Hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, wanna cum so bad, ‘m gonna cum.” He grunts as you stroke faster.

“Cum for me, pretty boy.” You whisper softly. And that does it. He finds it strange how you stole “pretty boy” and “Spence” from other people and how he actually prefers you using them to Morgan and JJ respectively.

“Oh, Y/N! I love you so much.” He rushes out as cum spurts from his cock and all over your hand.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You coo as you help him through his orgasm before retracting your hand.

He barely even noticed he’d stalled his pace in you, his fingers still inside but now stilled. He notices your cum covered hand.

“Here, lemme…” he leans over and fumbles for the tissue box on the nightstand. He grabs it and bring it over.

“Thank you, love.” You say as you pluck a couple of tissues from the box and clean off your hand.

You go to move but he stops you. “H-hey, wait…you didn’t cum.” He frowns.

“No, but you did. And you really seemed to need it.”

“Oh no, I refuse to be the only one cumming tonight. That’s not how we work, remember? I wanna make you cum. Please let me.” He looks at you pleadingly.

“This wasn’t really about me.” You murmur.

“It’s about both of us…sharing an intimate time together. We both should get to receive pleasure.”

“An orgasm isn’t the end all be all of a sexual encounter.” You gently remind him.

“No, I know…but maybe I wanna make you feel good for a bit longer. Maybe I wanna hear more of your pretty little moans.”

Your cheeks flush slightly at his words.

“And see your flushed face as I pleasure you.” His fingers begin moving again. His thumb is on your clit rubbing it in circles and two of his fingers curl inside of you.

Your head falls back against the pillow and your mouth falls open as your eyes fall shut. He knew exactly what he was doing with his hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He whispers softly.

You turn your head to look at him, eyes opening. "Mhm." You hum and nod.

He continues to rub your clit while working his fingers in and out of you.

After a while, you take over rubbing your clit from him while he stills pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your fingers clench around him.

“That’s it, honey…just a little bit more. Keep rubbing your clit just like that. You’re almost there…I can feel it. Can you feel how close you are?”

“Mhm.” You hum and nod as you rub your clit. “‘M so close, Spencer.”

“Keep rubbing your clit, just like that. You’re almost there.” He curls his fingers against your special spot.

You whimper as you rub at your clit.

"Fuck...you're clenching around my fingers. Are you almost there, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?"

"Mhm." You rub at your clit in time with his thrusts inside of you.

"Just a little more..."

Your orgasm crashes over you and you cry out and squirm.

"That's it, baby, that's it." He caressed and soothed you. “You ok, hon?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Pretty good. Little sore, but I’ll be ok.” He says as he plops down on the bed onto his back and stretches as best he can.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

yellow rose with idia? ^^

Idia Shroud:

Yellow Rose - a happy thought that causes a smile.

Today was a day to celebrate memories.

Idia awkwardly fumbled with his tie, feeling it was so tight it might strangle him. Ortho had checked at least three times and confirmed it was fine, but had since left the room to focus on other tasks that needed to be done. Idia had practically thrown him out as the constant reminder of his quickened pulse and high blood pressure only made his anxiety feel worse. He could only stare at himself in the mirror for so long, though he did admire his handiwork as his hair was neatly braided with his brushed aside to prevent his face from being covered. There weren’t many stylists gifted with the ability to style cursed hair and he’d really rather do it himself anyway.

Today was too important for anything to go wrong.

“It’s time!” Ortho floated into the room with an excited look on his face, gesturing to the hall where there would be many people awaiting his arrival. It made his knees knock together as he’s about to be thrown into an ultra-stressful situation, like he was desperately climbing ladders and avoiding barrels to reach a princess who didn’t even want him.

But you did want him, because how else would he have ended up here?

He has a lot to thank Ortho for, including the embarrassing situation that had got you here to begin with. They had been playing a silly little otome game together, meaning Idia was on a CG collecting journey and Ortho was helping him remember which path led where. There was a scene between two main characters where a note was exchanged, something very juvenile with a ‘do you like me, y/n?’ written on it.

“Have you ever tried that?” Idia was carefully reading the dialogue, making sure there were no flags being raised that he was on the wrong route and thus locked out of a precious CG that constantly eluded him due to the specific choices that had to be done in a very specific order and—

“Tried—Eh?” Idia hit his keyboard and accidentally began to skip already seen dialogue, panicking and back tracking to his previous save while Ortho patiently waited next to him. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“Writing a note!” Ortho pointed at the screen where a crudely drawn note was, suddenly looking around the room as he tried to find a physical example for Idia to use. It took some snooping but he found a few crumpled pieces of paper with madman scrawling on only half of it, tearing it apart and handing over the blank piece. “Ask them if they like you, and then I can deliver it! If they say no, you don’t even have to see them!”

It wasn’t like Ortho to indulge in his brother’s extreme introvert nature, and Idia was nearly swayed before remembering it could also implode the fragile balance of his online friend group. You, him, and Crimson Muscle made a formidable group, often being enough to on most raids together so he didn’t have to interact with other idiots online. It was much less painful to speak with you through a screen, knowing he could erase a message over and over until he got it just right. He couldn’t sacrifice that, could he?

He should’ve known Ortho’s mercy was only temporary.

Idia was forced out of the solitude of his room, a luncheon being held to celebrate the hard work of each dorm leader being held. He’d rather eat his own hands than celebrate but Crowley wouldn’t budge, persistent and irritating about the whole ordeal. The only good part was seeing your face in high-def rather than via a pixelated avatar online. He still didn’t sit directly across from you but diagonal was good enough for him; not the center of your attention but just within your peripheral where you could notice him.

“Psst, brother! I brought it!” Idia has a piece of paper hastily shoved into his hand, “I wrote it last night! Now you can give it to them in person for an even quicker response!”

He’s suddenly certain the entire world is conspiring against him, trying not to attract your attention as he frantically responded to Ortho.

“That won’t work!”

“Why not?” Ortho tilted his head in a clueless gesture, “In 4 out of the 6 good ends, the note is the pivotal moment in all of them! The Bad End only triggered if you didn’t build up your characters confidence enough to pass the note in class!”

Ortho is just quiet enough that you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying but you can hear him speaking, your eyebrows raised as you looked at the Shroud brothers. Idia saw the dialogue options appear before his very eyes as reality blended with video games for a moment: he could either pass the note to you now and accept the consequences or allow Ortho to reveal it was from the plot of some 3-star Otome game since he wasn’t creative enough to come up with his own way to confess.

He had tossed the paper at you, watching it land right in your half-open bag before he dashed, moving quicker than his physical body had ever moved before. He’d personally expel himself if Crowley tried to drag him back out of his room, he’d just take his parents business over and that’d be the end of that. He didn’t know how long he’d been curled up on his bed, face in his pillow as he considered just smothering himself rather than facing the light of day again. Life’s built-in autosave meant his fate was sealed and, somehow, he felt even more cursed than before.

Until a note slipped under his door, the side the writing was on turned upward so he could see it from his bed.

A little ‘y’ circled in red ink had led to this.

A grand hall decorated with flowers, STYX employees in their finest clothing filling most of the seats, the smell of expensive but most likely delicious foods just waiting to steal everyone’s attention away. When Idia entered the room he could see some of his and your family, along with a few friends dotted throughout but he can’t look for long as he felt like he might pass out.

He stood tall at the front of the room, glancing at the entry way anxiously, like he was truly afraid a too big primate would come through beating his fists on his chest and kidnapping his lover. He had been in a position like this before, albeit less willingly, and he began to understand now why it was so important to put his feelings out there even with the chance of rejection. A bell chimes and the music begins, and Idia can’t wipe the smile from his face.

The pointed grin remained even as you approached, your expression mirroring his as you smiled right back; he suspected by the end of the night his cheeks would ache with how happy he was, but he supposed he could put up with it for a day, for you.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

apologies if you’ve already answered this/made something about it canon already but i was wondering if angel can like use her powers on demonrry to calm him down/make him feel better when he’s upset? if that makes any sense at all, i just always thought that would be so sweet if when he’s having a particularly stressful day that couldn’t be helped by just talking it out if she could just like *mwah* his forehead and oop- all better!

omg I’ve actually never thought of this before hello???

but now that you’ve mentioned it, I feel like she’d absolutely do it!! She can use her powers to heal physical pain/wounds, so she’d get curious to see if it could work on a deeper level, as well.

And you know when it would come up?? Whenever he has one of his nightmares 🥲 can you imagine??

She’d lay her palm against the scars on his heaving chest while talking to him in a gentle, hushed tone, reassuring him that it was just a dream and that he’s safe and nothing is going to hurt him.

He’s looking at her with large, wild eyes, like a cornered animal desperately trying to find an escape route. His gaze is fractured and scared; he can’t discern reality from what isn’t, and he's fighting the primal urge to run away— to cower and hide, craving solitude in order to lick his wounds on his own terms. He hates letting her see him in this state— so weak and vulnerable, so vastly different from his usual confident, strong, nonchalant demeanor.

This isn't the person she fell in love; it's a broken shell of someone he used to be, and he'd always promised himself no one would ever witness it but him. It's a part of his life he worked so hard to lock away, and the fact that something as simple as a flashback can revert him back to such a fragile, feeble condition is beyond humiliating.

Harry survived decades of torture, years of rigorous training, and centuries of isolation, yet a mere memory has the ability to incapacitate him completely. It's degrading, and it makes him a sorry excuse for a demon.

Y/N manages to yank him out of his dark thoughts, as she typically does. Her hand suddenly starts glowing against his stuttering chest, the tips of her fingers dancing with golden rays of light. He flinches away on impulse, the brightness overwhelming his dilated pupils and cloudy sight.

“It's okay.” She murmurs, her voice soothing and delicate, yet firm. “You're alright, H. Just relax.”

The buttery light from her palm begins to spread through the veins under his skin, pulsing within his blood as it webs up his neck and across his taut shoulders. The magic untangles the tension from his muscles, causing his rigid spine to soften like clay. His breathing levels out and the shadows in his brain start to thin. His entire body gradually fills with a sense of comfort and tranquility, steeling his frayed nerves and calming his frenzied instincts.

Harry can tell ​she’s lending him some of her celestial strength, similar to how she does whenever she heals a cut or mends a broken bone. It's the same sensation of peace and compassion— a certain mellow heat in his limbs that radiates down to the marrow in his bones, evaporating any pain in its wake until it’s all gone.

Any corporeal afflictions Harry endures usually subside fast enough on their own— enhanced healing is part of his own powers, as well, though sometimes she’ll help speed it along for her own peace of mind. It’s easy, since he’s already mending himself, so supplying some extra care takes hardly any effort at all.

But when it comes to his dreams, it’s a very different story. This form of restoration is something much deeper; it takes more out of her, considering the damage runs through his soul, and it demands a heavier toll on the person providing the aid.

Regardless, Y/N always insists on helping because she knows this type of wound is one he can’t fix on his own. Harry’s healing only cures surface-level problems, whereas his girlfriend’s extends further and has the aptitude to ease emotional and mental distress. But by doing so, she takes on that distress herself— she absorbs it into her body and exchanges her vitality in return.

This means that during the process, she feels whatever he’s feeling— his bitterness, his fear, his agony, all of it. It’s one of the fundamental laws of the universe, human, demon, and angel alike: energy doesn’t just disappear, it has to be traded off. It can only be transferred, not destroyed. Therefore, she bargains her fortitude and takes his pain as a result.

Y/N claims it doesn’t hurt as much as he assumes; that it only lasts for a minute, until he manages to get his bearings, and then it fades away as everything balances out. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the fact that whenever she does it, Harry is essentially allowing her to shoulder all of his baggage until he gets his mind under control. And no matter what she says, she doesn’t hide it as well as she thinks she does; he can see her grinding her teeth through a clenched jaw, fighting off an anguished grimace as she blinks back tears from her glowing eyes.

It only adds another layer of loathing towards his nightmares, because it means his girlfriend has to deal with his issues just because he can’t deal with them himself. He’s allowing her to hurt herself for his sake.

But despite Harry’s countless protests, Y/N never hesitates when the moment comes, and he’s always too indisposed to stop her. She's stubborn that way, and though it worries him to death to let her carry his burdens, he can't deny how much he appreciates the relief that comes with the gesture. It feels like being released from a lead strait jacket, to where he can finally move and breathe and actually think again, instead of being frozen in some horrible loop.

So instead of resenting it or drowning in guilt, he’s tried to learn to accept it for what it is— a gift. A token of their relationship. No one has ever forfeited their strength in his interest, much less an angel, and even less an angel who happens to be in love with him.

“It is what it is.” She’ll reason after it’s all over, giving him a tender smile as they lay in bed with his head cradled against her chest, arms and legs intertwined. “It’s an angel thing; I was raised to sacrifice myself for the greater good. To me, the ‘greater good’ is helping you with your nightmares. I’m never going to just sit by and watch you suffer, whether you like it or not. Not when I can stop it.”

“I just don’t want you to put yourself through that.” He mumbles lowly, toying distractedly with the ends of her fingers, eventually letting his own sift between them. “You shouldn’t have to take my pain; I should be able to handle it myself.”

Y/N’s digits curl around his, squeezing his hand affectionately. Her voice comes out as a pleading whisper, her breath warm against the cold sweat that’s long dried across his forehead.

“When are you going to understand that you don’t have to anymore?”

[bloodyknucklesforme]

consider this- reader is pregnant and hasn’t told ghost out of fear, but tells price because she doesn’t know where else to go. task 141 shows up at a safe house together and reader is stressed enough to have a miscarriage and price knows immediately and ghost can tell.

A/N: So I changed the plot a little and I tried to do my best to portray what miscarrying is like. I've never been pregnant or had a miscarriage but I wanted to do my best. I also tried to leave it a little open-ended on whether or not the reader wants kids. I don't want kids and I live in America which is very scary right now. Full fic below the read more.

CW: Depictions of Miscarriage

Words: 1.5k

“Something is off about you,” Price said, having called you back to talk to him. He was right, you weren’t on top of things and it was getting dangerous. Covert operations in the Balkans. It was your first time back in the field after a little over a year. The scar on your abdomen still stung when you stretched too hard. 

“Out of practice, Sir. I apologize.”

“If you were out of practice he wouldn’t have requested you as an asset.” 

He…Ghost. Your not boyfriend.The man who used you as a human stress ball. It was non-committal, casual, physically intimate but emotionally detached. He came by when he could to fuck your brains out and then leave till next time. It wasn’t anything and right now that’s why it scared you.

“He requested me?” The last time you were in the field together he had to stop you from bleeding out. Then there was everything else that followed. 

“If something happened between the two of you, I need to know.” Price held your arm to stop you walking away. Price had always been an ally. Tough but fair was him to a t. He wouldn’t rat you out, he wouldn’t betray your trust. 

“uhmm..I… I’m pregnant.” It was weird to say, the words stuck in your throat like molasses. 

“Why are you here, then? There are rules about this,” He whispered angrily. “Who’s the..? Bloody hell, tell me he isn’t. ” 

“He is.” He didn’t even know it yet. You hadn’t actually had time alone with him since finding out. You knew you had to say something, you couldn’t hide it for long. You’d be taken out of the field again and if any superior found out you might lose your whole career. 

“Since when?”

“First time was about a week after we first met, it’s been going on since then.”

“Never pictured him the domestic type.”

“He’s not.” you knew he wasn’t, you’d always known. Didn’t make it hurt less. You hadn’t decided what to do yet, hoping that maybe if you ignored it enough it just wouldn’t exist anymore. 

“He doesn’t know,” Price sighed. You shook your head. 

“You need to tell him. It’s your choice what you want to do and if he gives you shit either way, you tell me, but you need to choose. This was stupid of you to come out here like this.” Price’s disappointment only made your body heavier. He’d been the one who requested you the first time around. He was the reason you met Ghost and now you’ve gone and fucked that up too.

That conversation was almost a week ago and you still hadn’t told him. He’d been professional the whole time. Ignoring you mostly. He was your overwatch currently. This was almost over, you just had to make the exchange with the Russians. 

It was right there, the package was in your hands. The pain started, blooming up from the bottom of your torso. It was a deep ache that made it hard to breathe. You were sweating, unable to focus. Maybe it was always going to go down this way, maybe they already knew, maybe you just looked too nervous. 

Two shots, they were both dead. You barely blinked as the blood splattered across your face. There was shouting, you got up and ran. Price was barking orders. He had a car a couple blocks away. You just had to get there. 

You could see it but the pain had doubled. You felt wet. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” An arm wrapped around your middle, almost lifting you over your feet. You were in the back of the car, unable to hold back whimpers. 

“Is she injured?” Price asked slamming on the gas. 

“I can’t find a wound.” Ghost’s hands ran over your body, lifting up clothes desperately trying to find the source of your pain. 

“Fuck.” You heard Price’s hand slam on the wheel. You never told Ghost.  You stuck a hand down your pants and it came back bloody. Fuck.

Ghost pulled you into his lap, wiping sweat from your brow. Stoic and silent as always. Maybe you could lie? Just a bad period, sorry lads. It wouldn’t work on Price, you knew but it would spare you from any emotion from Ghost. 

“Get her in the tub!” Price yelled as Ghost carried you into the safehouse. Always the dutiful soldier, you were laid in the yellowing fiberglass. He shut the bathroom door behind you. 

“What is this?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to help me get my pants off.” You choked out. The two of you were in your own world now and you felt safe enough to cry. He undid everything and helped pull your jeans off, a deep red stain in the crotch. He took off a glove to stroke your hair back. 

“Are you pregnant?” 

“I don’t think I am anymore.” You pressed your hand against your aching muscles, begging for the pressure to stop the pain. You grabbed his arm with the other. “Simon, I’m scared.”

It was rare for you to use his name. It was a special treat for when he spent extra time between your legs. He was taking his gear off as quickly as he could. His vest falling to the floor next to your jeans. He leaned into the tub to take off your underwear. The blood was bright red. Blood didn’t bother you but you couldn’t help but look away. 

You knew you were miscarrying. Your job was research and that’s what you did the moment you saw that little plus sign. You knew that 15% of pregnancies ended this way. That because it was so early that it was probably just an abnormality rather than anything you could have done. It’s just something that happens.

He climbed into the tub behind you. He bent his knees, trapping you between them. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his chest. A wet cloth was against your forehead. 

“We need to get you to hospital.” His voice wasn’t its usal cold coolness, he sounded scared too. He wasn’t supposed to be scared, he wasn’t supposed to care. 

“No, I should be okay… as long as everything comes out.” You were shaking in his arms. You never told him and here he was holding you through this. You never talked. You didn’t know if he wanted kids, it had never come up. You didn’t even know. 

You cried out as a contraction worked it’s way through you. His hand was rubbing a circle between your shoulder blades. Sweat, snot and drool poured from your face as you sobbed in pain. 

Price came in, leaving water, painkillers and towels. He avoided looking at the two of you, just leaving everything on the counter. You would go to hospital once you were home. They’d make sure you were okay and you could pretend like this never happened. 

Like the most intimate you’d ever been with him hadn’t been this moment, you miscarrying your child while he held you. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. He turned on the water at one point. Lifted you out of the tub and cleaned you up. Gave you water and made sure you drank it all. He called for Price to get you clothes. 

You were asleep on a cot with one arm around your waist and another under your head. The three of you were exfiled the next morning. They both lied for you, said you had bad food poisioning.  He drove you home in the dead of night. 

“Was it mine?” He asked, once the two of you were in the safety of your own bed. He hadn’t left your side the entire time. 

“Yeah.” Here came the talk. The thing you dreaded most. The emotionally intimacy, the walls between the two of you were crumbling under the weight of what ifs. 

“Were you going to tell me?” He had his cool back. That deep manchester accent that reminded you of menthols. 

“I was. I just wasn’t sure when.”

“When you called me to sign the birth certificate?” He was making jokes, that was a good sign. 

“I hadn’t decided if I was keeping it yet.” 

“I’m sorry, love.” He had pulled up his mask to press a kiss to the back of your head. 

“It’s not your fault.” Your hands rubbed over his. 

“I would have been a shit dad. I woulda paid you and all that but I don’t think I could be there. I’d just fuck the little bugger up.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just.. I don’t know.”

“Afraid?”

“Maybe.”

“I knew this was a possibility. I don’t pull out.” You breathed out a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t have just left you. It’s your choice but I’m responsible for it.”

“I didn’t want you to be angry.”

“At you? For this? Never.”

You settled into bed, leaning your head back into his chest. 

“Will you still be here tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will be. Get some sleep.” He kissed the back of your head again. He was the big scary man in the mask, the one whose face you didn't know but whose body you did. The one you'd resisted admitting you cared about. Here he was, holding you at your weakest, kissing your hair.