#meat wall man wasn’t enough for me to take note of
Note
plssss viktor vektor smut, maybe after female v got injured and had to be rushed to him?
mr doctor man
viktor vektor x f!reader (v)
wc: 5.2k
summary: an argument with your ripperdoc/friend with benefits leads to a distraction during an important street fight. luckily, he’s not going to hold it against you.
warnings/tags: friends with benefits, allusions to sex and hook ups, swearing, blood, reader gets the absolute shit beat out of them, fighting, angst, vomiting, gun violence, love confessions, allusions to smut
author’s note: ask and ye shall receive
partially inspired by mr doctor man by palaye royale
“ mr doctor man
questions his hands
lost his mind
clinically fine ”
Viktor was sure he was out of his mind.
When he’d become a ripperdoc, he did so with one goal, one job, in mind; helping the injured, making sure everyone in this city had a fair chance at facing whatever was waiting out there for them. He was supposed to protect his patients, make sure they were fit and safe from the very things he installed deep within their muscles and memories.
He was supposed to take care of his patients, not fuck them into oblivion.
You couldn’t help but admire the raised red scratches your nails had inflicted upon Viktor’s back as he sat tinkering with the new piece of chrome he was about to put into your open forearm. Sweat was still in the process of drying on the back of your neck, cooled by the hum of conditioning that eased out of the grates overhead. Sure, you’d come in this afternoon to grab some new tech - but you could have done that over in Kabuki. Corpo Plaza. Arroyo. Anywhere you passed on your way here. But those clinics didn’t have Vik, didn’t have the glint of his glasses when he glanced your way, didn’t have the ‘tats inked into his arm that you held onto for dear life when he was railing into you hard enough to make you see stars.
No, this was your favorite clinic by far. And it wasn’t just because you lived only five minutes away.
“So tell me, kid,” said Viktor as he gingerly placed the reinforced piece of chrome into the meat of your arm. You held your breath at the strange sensation as his expert hands slowly adjusted the metal. “You’ve never exactly expressed interest in physical combat gear. Thought you were more of a gun steel gray kind of girl.”
He talked to you like you weren’t a thing, like you weren’t a couple.
Because you weren’t. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t know exactly what you were. You’d been friends, of course, when Jackie had first brought you in with him to get his nose popped back into place after a bar fight tilted away from him. You would come over in the evenings with dinner after he closed the clinic and watch fights. You would help clean up when he needed the extra hands. And when friendly banter turned more and more flirtatious, you hadn’t been obliged to stop it.
When slaps on the shoulders turned into kisses, and those turned into finger fucks, and those turned into full-on poundings on his table or against the wall, you hadn’t protested one bit. You wanted there to be something more to it all, wanted him to think about you the same way you did him - when you were alone eating breakfast by yourself, when you were driving across town, when you were in bed at night, anywhere and everywhere all at once.
But you’d never said a word of it.
You didn’t want to cross a line you knew you couldn’t see, take whatever this was one step too far and lose one of your best friends. So you left everything where it was - don’t fix what’s not broken, right? Don’t meddle with things doing just fine on their own, right?
So you kept your mouth shut and your legs open.
“Oh, yeah,” you said and stared up at the ceiling above your head. Across the room, the low sounds of a match beginning to start murmured from the television. “I’ve got a fight in Heywood coming up in a couple of days. Guy’s known for being built like ‘Saka Tower, so I figured I’d steel myself up before going to get my ass handed to me.”
You expected Viktor to smile, for him to chuckle and for his bare abs to tense up like they did when he found something amusing. But he didn’t. Instead the corners of his mouth tilted downward as he pulled the machine that would hotwire your skin back together over to the table. “What’s this guy’s name?” he asked offhandedly.
His sudden change in tone irked you slightly. “I don’t know. Heard he goes by Decard. Big in the Badlands, apparently, and he came into town looking for competition that wasn’t walking on four legs or eating after the four-legs.”
“Hmm.”
Pursing your lips awkwardly, you drummed your fingers on your bare sternum - you were both still in the bare minimum after your little late afternoon romp - and pulled your focus back overhead. You took a breath and pushed it out. “Got a problem with me fighting or something?”
Viktor looked up at you over the rims of his glasses - fuck, that steely gray of his irises were something else - and fixed you with a warning stare. “Don’t bring your attitude now, kid,” he said and rotated the machine patching you up. Even as the conversation was going south, he was still intent on giving you the best treatment he was capable of.
“Well, I mean - sorry, but it suddenly seems like you’d rather be literally anywhere else than here.”
“I will be, if you keep running your tongue like that.”
Your stare turned into a glare as you looked up at the ceiling above your head. What the fuck was this? You and Viktor hardly ever fought - and if you did, it was over who was going to win the match you were streaming. Fuck all, you just sucked his dick until he whimpered, and now he was giving you some weird kind of cold shoulder?
You waited until the machine had done its job and your arm was back together before shoving off the table and gathering your clothes that had been scattered across the clinic floor. You could feel him - sitting in just his pants on his stool - watching your movements like a hawk. “You know what,” you said, bristling as you tugged your clothes back on, “if you’re going to go full blown hermit on me out of the blue for no fucking reason at all, I have no reason to be here.” You angrily yanked your shoes over your feet, not bothering to tie the laces. “Don’t bother showing up to the fight. I’ll have Jackie there if I get my spleen shot out.”
“Didn’t know there was an extended invite,” Viktor said as he pushed away from the table on his stool and rolled over to his desk.
“There would have been if your stage four terminal dickery hadn’t ruined the party.” Snatching up your holsters from his side table, you stopped for a moment while you clasped them over yourself. “What was that, anyway? What’s your deal? One minute we’re hot and heavy, and the next you’re acting like you want to be rid of me.”
Viktor rolled his eyes - you saw it in the reflection of the dirty mirror hung opposite his desk. He picked up that damned screwdriver he was always tinkering with and began to adjust the calibrations of his mechanical fingers. “Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for once, V, you’d see that it’s just the opposite. I don’t think you should be sticking your neck out more than you already do for a couple extra eddies. You and Jack already run around pulling enough shit. Street fighting when you should be resting isn’t exactly the move you’d pull if you’re playing with a full deck of cards.”
Fuck, he was good. He could roll five different insults into one and make it sound like he was actually worried about you.
“I’m sorry,” you said and cocked your head at him pointedly, “this coming from one of Night City’s greatest ring fighters?”
He shook his head in that way he did when he was getting ready to put something to rest - an argument, an idea, a patient… It made something in your gut twist. It made you feel small and childish - like you both knew he was right about this. Like he was talking to a little girl who refused to give up the fight just for the sake of fighting. “You’re stubborn, kid, and that’s a good thing most of the time. I’m not going to tell you what you can or can’t do. Go on. Kick some ass and prove me wrong.” He paused his tinkering for just a moment, and you thought he was going to rise and kiss you goodbye like he always did - but he just turned up the volume on the television. “I’ll be here either way.”
Overwhelmed with that sickening, roiling feeling in your belly, you threw up a hand and stalked toward the gates of the clinic. “Whatever, old man.”
As you stormed up the stairs leading into the alleyway between Viktor’s clinic and Misty’s shop, a coil of guilt turned itself about in the hollows of your chest. Maybe he was right - about your head being stuck up your ass. Your entire life you’d been fighting for your fair share in this city, being raised in the shadows of those who proved themselves time and time again to be bigger than you. From the time you knew how to properly hold a gun and throw a punch and speak your mind, you hadn’t let anything stop you - which hadn’t always been a good thing. A couple broken bones and black eyes had taught you that much.
But fighting - whether it was for your life or not - was all you knew. Arguing, and challenging, and defying… it felt as if it were in your blood like part of your DNA. The feeling of desperate survival never went away, no matter how much money you had or how full your belly was. Once it was there, it never went away.
This was what you told yourself two evenings later, when the stars and the moon were blocked out by the smog and the nighttime air was disrupted by thumping music and excited shouts and the wails of sirens in the distance. It was what you told yourself when you popped out the cricks in your neck and accepted pats on the back from those who had bet their monthly rents on you. And yet despite the fight about to happen in a few minutes’ time, despite the dozens of people surrounding the basketball court where it was to take place, your mind was stuck back in the clinic. Your ears still rang with the words both you and Viktor had hissed, your chest still stung with the venom laced between breaths. He had not called you, despite having a little get-together-date-night-come-over-and-let’s-fool-around-thing set up for last night. You had not called him, despite desperately needing encouragement for this fight, because you had caught a glimpse of Decard, and you’d almost choked on your own spit.
“Aye, V,” said a voice in your ear, and you were pulled back to the sidelines of the basketball court, where a crowd had gathered to watch the smackdown. You looked up at Jackie when he clasped your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing your attention up to his face. “You doin’ okay, choom? You nervous?”
Swallowing thick, you furrowed your brows and waved a feeble hand. Your knuckles had already been wrapped in bandages - something Viktor usually did before your fights, because he knew the best ways to keep them tight when you threw your punches. You had wrapped them yourself, and they were already falling loose. “M’fine,” you answered over the radio blaring across the lot. “Just… mind’s somewhere else.”
There came a look across Jackie’s face that told you he already knew exactly what you were talking about. You didn’t want to think about how he did. “Listen,” he said and grasped your other shoulder. “Worry all you want after, chica, but when you’re out there?” He used his knuckle to shove your chin in the direction of the court, where the fixer who had arranged the fight was arguing over bets with a corpo. “Your mind’s got’ta be out there, too. Otherwise you’re goin’ to get your ass handed to you and your brain won’t catch up ‘til you’re hurtin’ tomorrow.” When you looked back at him, mouth stretched into a taut line, his gaze softened a bit. He jostled you. “These kind’a things don’t last forever, choom. Trust me - Misty’s been on my ass enough times that she knows it better than I do, and we always come around. Just… let it go for a few minutes, yeah?”
Steeling your heart and sharpening your expression, you nodded your head slightly and took a breath. Just for a few minutes. Nothing but left hooks and dodges and roundhouses for just a few minutes. “Okay,” you said and shook yourself out. “Okay.”
“Atta’ girl.” Jackie clapped your hand in his own, then spun you around and shoved you in the direction of the court. “Now go and kick some ass. Drinks on you at the Afterlife to celebrate your victory, aye?”
Rounds of both cheers and taunts followed you as you walked onto the court to meet the fixer and your competition. Upon facing your opponent, you found your neck craning up. And up. And still up. Decard was fitted with an entire body of chrome and tech, more cyber than human in every sense of the word. Nearly seven feet tall. Fists of collapsable nanotech. Cybernetic eyes pixelated red that made his pupils look as though they were bleeding from the inside out. You’d be lying if you told yourself he didn’t intimidate you to the point that if you weren’t being watched by hundreds of eyes, you’d probably have pissed yourself just a little bit.
“Alright, people,” said the fixer as he tallied up a number of bets. A quick glance at the pad in his hand told you that the onlookers’ faith lay more at Decard’s steel-toed feet than yours. “Please don’t turn this into a crime scene. I’m already on a watchlist for these kinds of things, so let’s keep this quick and clean. Hopefully I don’t have to tell you both that no cybernetic advancements are allowed. Gorilla arms, thermal knuckles, mantis blades, the whole shebang. No killing - perioud. ‘Kay?”
“Sure,” you said.
Decard growled from low in his throat.
Once the fixer had left the court and motioned for the pair of you to get ready, you took a moment to assess your opponent. As you dug your toes into the dirty tarmac, you looked him over. His head, of course, was an option, throat exposed over the collar of his tank top. But you doubted you’d have much time to grab at it, even if you got past those mechanical arms of his. You were scrambling to find a weak spot, to find some way this didn’t end in you limping away with a broken arm and a shattered ego, when your gaze shifted slightly behind him and into the crowd after catching a subtle glare of glass.
Fuck - he’d shown up. There he was, standing with crossed arms and a wide stance amongst the young onlookers streaming on their phones and squealing with excitement. Viktor met your eyes across the distance.
Then an earth-shaking, rib-crushing blow landed to your sternum, sending you tumbling over yourself in a heap of flailing limbs to the feet of the crowd. Pain like thunder blossoming violently across the sky expanded from your chest where Decard struck you, but you weren’t given much time to process what had just happened before the crowd was pulling you to your feet and pushing you back onto the court.
You had barely regained your breath before Decard came charging at you, steel teeth bared like some kind of animal as he barreled in your direction. Turning on your heel, you just barely managed to miss him - then took a running leap up onto his back and sat yourself on his hulking shoulders. The crowd erupted in surprise. Clenching your jaw and fighting with everything you had to stay on top of him while he bucked and pulled at your legs with a grip that would surely leave bruises in their wake, you locked an arm around his neck and began to squeeze. It wouldn’t take more than maybe twenty seconds for him to start getting lightheaded, even with all those implants. Maybe fifteen if you were lucky.
But it turned out you weren’t lucky. Very, very, very unlucky, in fact.
Decard backed up across the court as you tried to choke him out, heading straight for the rusted old hoop on a metal pole that creaked when a breeze blew it the wrong way. With a great roar and a heave, he slammed you back into the pole. Howling, searing, thundering pain overtook you, spreading from your spine to your shoulder blades to your hips, all throughout every nerve ending and fiber inside of you. Your vision whited out for just a moment as you slipped off the man’s shoulders and dropped to the warm tarmac. Goddammit, that hurt. That hurt like a bitch. That hurt like your vertebrae had cracked and one wrong move would put you six feet under.
With a low groan that you felt echoing in your very bones, you slowly propped yourself up on an elbow. You coughed and spat out a bit of saliva mixed with blood that pooled from where you’d bitten your tongue after being slammed into the pole. You knew after a blow like that you wouldn't be able to finish. As much as you fucking hated it, you were going to have to forfeit. All those cameras on you, all those eyes and bets… all fucking wasted.
And Viktor… fuck, he wouldn’t ever let you hear the end of this. If he spoke to you again outside of emergency clinic visits and checkups.
Sucking in a shallow breath, you stretched out a hand and patted the ground once, twice, three times. Those who saw it groaned at the fight having been so short. Eddies were being passed around, deposited into accounts as you began to make your way to your feet to slink off the court with your tail between your legs. But you didn’t quite make it.
Before you could find your footing, Decard’s large cybernetic hand snatched up the vulnerable skin of your throat and lifted you off the court into the air. Panic flooded your systems as your eyes widened and you gasped, trying to pull in air around the blockage on your neck. A few people cheered, thinking the fight was still on. No matter how much you kicked and flailed, they didn’t seem to get the hint that you had forfeited. You didn’t want to fight anymore.
They said you don’t always get what you want.
“Some shitshow for a merc I’ve heard so much fuss about,” Decard said, just inches from your face as he lifted you closer to him. Up close, you were able to see his cybernetic gaze flashing back and forth between your suddenly terrified eyes. “I was hoping I’d get a run for my money.”
You gasped around his iron-knuckled grip, uselessly kicking your feet against his chest plates. “M’done!” you wheezed out, listening to your heart pound wildly in your ears. “Y’win! Let me go!”
Decard grinned a sickening smile and brought his lips to the shell of your ear, so close you swore you felt his tongue brush against your lobe. “Come on and show me what you’re really made of, mercenary.” Then he turned and threw you across the court, sending you sprawling over yourself for the second time that evening. Another roar went up from the crowd as the cameras began filming again and new bets were placed.
Vision hazy and your spine screaming in protest, you scrambled out of the way just in time to miss Decard’s boot cracking the concrete where you just lay half a moment ago. You weren’t lucky enough to evade his next blow, a backhand that had you careening to the ground once more. Smack after punch, blow after kick, you were slowly losing the ability to raise your arms to even cover your face as he followed your pathetic little parade around the court.
The crowd seemed to be loving your beatdown. They cheered for more, for you to just give up, not knowing that you already had.
Upon coming to rest on your aching back from a roundhouse that had knocked you off your feet, you tilted your bloodied and bruised face to catch a glimpse of two figures arguing violently with the fixer who organized the whole event. Through the blur twinging the edges of your vision, you recognized Viktor and Jackie practically screaming at the man, gesturing wildly back and forth between you and the man approaching to possibly finish you off. Without your permission, your vision screen kicked in to read their lips and translate what they were saying.
“He’s fuckin’ killing her, idiota!” Jackie said and raised a hand to your form cowering on the ground.
“She tapped out fair and square,” snarled Viktor and poked a mechanical finger in the fixer’s chest. “Call it off before it goes any further.”
The fixer raised his hands in defense, shrugging a shoulder to prove his point. “Listen, chooms, just because you lost your bets doesn’t mean you’ve got to take it up with me.”
“She forfeited!” Viktor said. “Everyone with their eyes in their head saw her call for mercy.”
The fixer grinned sadistically. “I didn’t see anything.”
Snapping back to the court, you raised your gaze to the tall, sinewy mass of a man who towered over you with a heaving chest and a sick emotion of satisfaction sitting upon his stupid fat lips. For the second time, he raised you into the air by your throat and held you up like a trophy for all to see. You didn’t have the energy to fight back this time, couldn’t even if you thought it would do something. You simply gasped for air and gripped his forearm, hoping you’d black out sooner than later so you wouldn’t have to keep enduring this torture.
“Too bad no one’s going to remember your name,” Decard said to you over the noises of the onlookers. “V, was it?”
Through the blood spilling over your lips and the ache in every damn inch of your body, you snarled and spat, “Go fuck yourself.”
“Oh, I will,” he replied. “To the image of you begging for mercy like a fucking dog.”
The words had barely escaped his lips when a miracle graced the old basketball court. A deafening gunshot like a firecracker went off just feet from your ear and an instant later, you were dropped from being suspended in the air. Forcing yourself to look up from the dirt digging into your cheek, you watched as Viktor, now standing on the court before a kneeling Decard as he screamed and cradled the blown-apart junction of his knee, leveled his handgun with his opposite shoulder.
“Don’t bother showing your face to any ripper in this fucking city,” Viktor warned, then cracked off another bullet into Decard’s shoulder. The man howled over the sounds of the crowd stampeding for their vehicles and the streets, then collapsed in on himself. “They won’t have any mercy on you.”
It was the last thing you saw before you rolled onto your side and vomited, allowing yourself to fall into that everlasting darkness behind your eyelids.
The first thing that hit you when your senses returned was the faint smell of cleaning alcohol, the kind that docs used to sterilize equipment before they dug deep into your chest. The second thing was the familiar sound of a television playing the sounds of a boxing match; the ringing of the bell and the commentator’s voice would have lulled you back to sleep, had it not been for the ache that thrummed like fire beneath your skin all across your body. From your toes to your scalp it hurt, pulling a low moan from the back of your throat.
Your brow scrunched, you opened your eyes and blinked a few times before recognizing the ceiling overhead as the same one you had glared at while fighting with Viktor two days ago. You were in his clinic, propped up on the operating chair with an IV stuck in your arm and bandages wrapped around your torso. Your spine bitched at you as you sat up and swept your gaze across the clinic. Viktor was nowhere to be found.
Fuck, you wanted to go home. Go home and take the longest nap in the history of time. How long had it been since the fight - since you got your ass almost literally handed to you on the internet for thousands of people to see? Your vision screen told you it had been almost twelve hours.
With a grunt, you carefully pulled the IV from your arm and swung your legs over the side of the chair - only to crumple to the floor the moment you tried to stand on your own two feet. Just a few seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you prayed it would be anyone except your doc. You couldn’t face him, not after he had to save your ass after telling you not to fight. Hell, you almost wished it would be Decard coming to finish you off.
But you recognized the bottoms of the shoes rushing toward you as Viktor’s, and you could do nothing but whimper and groan as he gingerly lifted you off the ground and back onto the chair.
“Jesus, kid,” he said as he carefully stuck the IV back into your skin. “Only just came to and you’re already trying to walk out like nothing happened.”
You said nothing as he sat back on his rolling stool beside you and brought up your vitals on his tablet. You couldn’t bare the thought of looking into those eyes of his as he chastised you for being so fucking stupid, for not heeding his advice. He probably thought you were an idiot, a naive kid so blinded by chasing glory she didn’t realize she was running straight into the sun.
But it seemed that Viktor didn’t get the this-is-supposed-to-be-awkward memo. “Hate to say it,” he said as he scrolled through his device, “but you had a close call, kid. Popped a vertebra out of place in your spine, fractured four of your ribs, dislocated a finger or two… I could go on, but I’d like to save time where I can. In other words, I’ve never had a patient come in quite as fucked up as you.”
“Gee, thanks.” You exhaled a painful breath, unable to push down the bubble forming in the bottom of your throat. Just when you thought you’d be able to ignore it, it ruptured. “Why don’t you just tell me off for being so stupid and send Misty to take me home?”
Viktor didn’t look at you. And that made you all the more furious. “I’m not doing this again, V,” he said and rolled away to deposit his tablet on his workbench. “Shut up and take a rest from it, will you? You’re fogging up the place with that hot head of yours.”
“In case you forgot,” you shot back, struggling to sit up straight in the curved operation chair, “you’re the one who started this shit. So don’t you try and pin it on me.”
He stood and remained there on his feet for a moment, hands placed firmly on his hips and nodding his head with pursed lips - like he was preparing himself to have this same spat again. A pang of guilt shot through you, but you beat it back.
“You know what?” he said and finally looked at you through his glasses. He threw out a hand and let it smack against his thigh. “Fine. I did start this. I’ll own that. But I only started it because - and this may come as a surprise to that thick skull of yours - but I actually care about you, kid. I do really give a shit if some shady bastard you decide to throw hands with over a few eddies manages to get the better of you and leave you bleeding out in a dumpster on the wrong side of Pacifica.” He ran his good hand through his hair - and over his temples, which were just beginning to show through his dark tresses with a few streaks of gray - and began to tread closer. “Maybe what we’ve got between us is a fun way to kick off a bit of stress for you, and I’ll keep myself in check if it is, but goddammit, V, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you got yourself gutted in a fucking streetfight!”
You realized he had gotten closer to your chair and raised his voice only when you flinched at his sudden outburst. He seemed to understand, too, just how close he had come, because he at once stood straight again and began to back off.
You reached out your hand and grabbed his wrist. “It’s not,” you found yourself whispering when he glanced at you over the rims of his glasses. You swallowed thick and forced the words up and out. “Just… just some outlet. I… I love you, Vik.” A wave of tears threatened to overtake your vision, turn your eyes watery and your voice wavering. “I know it doesn’t really seem like it a lot of the time, but I promise I do.”
There were a long, silent few moments in which neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. You squeezed your eyes together, suddenly afraid you had gone too far. That’s what you always did. You either went so far the line wasn’t even a line anymore, or you fell short enough that you didn’t even know there was one to begin with. You started to release his wrist, feeling as though you had fucked up yet another one of the good things in your life, when you felt his fingers angling your chin up so that he could press his lips to yours.
It was just like the millions of other times he had kissed you, when you were both in a rush to get your clothes off and climb on top of the other, and yet it was different all at the same time. This kiss was deep and genuine, relieved and thrilled. Sweet. Loving. He tasted like a faint twinge of whiskey, and when you grabbed his shirt collar to pull him closer and he grunted, a fan of breath swept across you like a ghosting whisper.
When you finally pulled apart, Viktor rested his forehead against yours and gently kissed the slope of your nose. “You better rest up quick, kid,” he murmured against your lips. “Because when you do, I’m going to spread those legs of yours and show you just how much I fucking love you.”
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Knock Knock (Idia Shroud)
Thank you for 1000 followers! Hope you enjoy the Horror Event!
NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!
Requested by a lovely Anon
This one isn't as good, sorry. QwQ
“Idia.”
“Yeah?”
“Idia!”
“Yeah?!”
“Hurry up!”
“I’d be much faster if you stopped hitting my ass, y’know?!”
“You don’t need your ass to use your hands!”
Idia turns to throw a quick glare at his girlfriend, catching her smirk in a glance, before going back to pouring his attention into the task at hand: fixing the ceiling lamp before whatever is in the house with them finds them.
Honestly, of all plotlines, getting isekaid into a game from his girlfriend’s world is not what he expected from the previously boring wednesday night. He can even tell what the title of this shitty manga would be: “I Woke Up Inside a Videogame From My Girlfriend’s Original Magicless World, At Least I Am Not Alone As She Came With Me! Can We Survive The Horrors of The Mysterious House in The Forest Together?!”. Ah, he gets tired just thinking of the predictable twists that await them.
“Idia, stop daydreaming and hurry up, I can hear something coming!”
“Fuck!” Idia shouts, jumping off the stool—why does this lamp in particular need to be so high up? All the others are at the perfect height for a tall string bean like him!
Their hands find each other and he pulls the girl until they’re behind a cabinet, the two sitting on the dusty floor with ease due to the amount of times they’ve done so already ever since this whole surprise event started. (Y/N) hides her face on his neck, curled up between his legs, and he hugs her tightly in his arms. The cloak they found covers his bright hair, thankfully, and helps them merge with the dense darkness of the room.
Yet, no matter how many times they do this, the torment is still the same. Idia still feels like bugs breached his skin and are crawling up and down his arms and legs, and he feels like the air in his lungs have become wriggling worms. Whatever he ate before had long turned into rocks, he’s not sure he could even throw up at this point.
And his fear doubles when he feels his girlfriend tremble in his arms. A rush of protectiveness feeds his heartbeat, and he needs to press his lips together to not let his breathing give away their position.
He can hear the scratching of feet on the rotting wood. He hates that it walks, that it drags its feet on the floor, as if haunting and hunting them wasn’t enough, as if it needed to prove that it could exist beyond their sleep deprived minds—Idia is sleep deprived on a good day, but the five minutes of sleep they have before another cycle of what could be a nightmare or a dream, hard to tell, are a disservice to their mental health.
He had dared to look at it once and only once.
Nevermore.
Instead he clings to his only source of comfort. Idia has never been a religious man, and he has a terribly complicated relationship with Fate thanks to his family’s curse, but he catches himself praying to the first god name that comes to mind, only to then let that part of himself do as it pleases, if only to keep all of himself conscious.
This is not the moment to faint.
He has far too much to lose, he cannot afford whatever consequence may come from being caught by the horrors that lurk in this hellhole.
Go figure that he learns to be brave when his life and his girlfriend’s are on the line. Power of love, maybe? Hopefully that boosts him enough to get them out of there.
“Is it gone?”
“I think so?”
They look up at the same time, and choke on their spit at the same time as a giant hole on the wall shows them a giant eye looking down on them.
The eye blinks.
They blink.
The eye disappears.
They wince when a sudden pain takes over, like a hand grabbing their brains and squeezing it, sinking its nails in their meat. The pain leaves them with ringing ears, and Idia doesn’t have enough consciousness left to wonder how they both know what they both feel, the roots of insanity creeping into their thoughts like an invasive species.
“I can’t take this anymore…”He can only rub her back and curl himself tighter around her, knowing this moment of comfort is taking too much precious time, but not caring at all.
He can be an anxious mess after they find their way back to his room.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst imagines#twst x reader#x fem reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#horror event 2022
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The Raccoon Problem
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Characters: Halsin/Saoirse (Mimi's Druid Tav!)
Wordcount: 3630
Notes: This is a secret santa gift for @lavellvn!
You can also read/collect this over on AO3!
“Hey! Get out of that garbage! Don’t make me call The Watch.”
Regin froze mid-rummage, and looked up at the man silhouetted there against the back door of the tavern in the lantern light, but didn’t say anything in response. Having The Watch looking for him was the most terrifying thing he’d experienced in all of his seven years and he wasn’t interested in having it happen again, thanks. He backed away from the garbage, into the darkness of the alleyway, tying the cloth around the spoils of his trash adventure.
“Damn urchin.” the man muttered, unaware how his voice carried in the silence of the night. “If it were a girl, they’d at least take it off my hands for some coin.”
When he returned to the literal hole in a wall he was currently sleeping in, Regin looked over the food he’d managed to gather. A very burned bread roll, a few bones that hadn’t been picked quite clean though he didn’t know what the meat was, and some rinds from cheese that only had a little mold on them. It would get him through to tomorrow night, at least. But that tavern was the last place that he’d been able to visit, everywhere else had chased him away, and now they were on the lookout for him as well. He might have to brave one of the older places again. Or figure out how to hide better so they didn’t shoo him away. If only he was a girl, like the tavern keep had said. He didn’t know why girls were better, or who they were that would want a girl, but at least he wouldn’t be cold and hungry.
Maybe he could try foraging as a dog, not just sleeping. But dogs tended to draw attention, that’s why he was only a dog when he was in his hiding place, to stay warm for sleeping. Maybe he could try being one of those stripey-whatsits that he saw in the trash sometimes. They had good hands for digging through the trash, and people tended to avoid them. Yeah. That’s what he’d do.
“So, tell me again why you’re looking for help from Druids?” Halsin asked the bartender. His tavern was well-kept, and as far as Halsin could tell, it didn’t even have the usual vermin problem, thanks most likely to the two cats laying in the last rays of sunlight coming through the front window. The tavernkeep’s eyes often strayed to his partner, Saoirse, who was entertaining herself chatting with said cats. Her usual attire tended to draw attention wherever they went, not that he would ever find fault with her choices. She looked stunning no matter what form or coverings she chose.
“We’ve got a raccoon problem. Thing’s a real menace. It’s in our trash every night and it’s gotten smart enough to avoid the traps and even the dogs we’ve tried to set on it. Only thing else I can think of to do to get rid of it at this point is a bigger predator, but I’ll be damned before I bring in a wild bear or wolf just to get rid of a clever raccoon. Figured a druid would be able to talk to the thing or scare it away by sleeping in the yard as something bigger.”
Halsin nodded, and turned to consult with Saoirse.
“My heart, what do you think about this? Any insight from your feline friends?”
Saoirse hummed in thought. “They say the raccoon smells wrong. Not like other raccoons.”
“Cursed, perhaps?” Halsin thought, and Saoirse shrugged. “Well, would you like to spend some time here, dearest? Solve a little raccoon puzzle before we head on?”
Saoirse chuckled. “Who would I be if I passed up both the chance to understand a creature of Faerûn and a chance to have a bear nap with my beloved?”
Halsin turned and addressed the man behind the bar once again. “We’ll handle your raccoon problem.”
“Good, you have two days, as we’ve a wedding here in four and if you can’t do it we gotta have a day to try… something else.”
“What something else?” Halsin asked, half-growled as though he knew already what the man was going to say.
“Poison, obviously. I don’t want to do it, else I never would have put a call out for druid adventurers, but if I want to keep the noble wedding contract, I gotta get rid of the raccoon.”
Halsin sighed. “Don’t even consider the poison. Children rummage through the trash and anything that can hurt a raccoon can kill a child in no time flat, let alone the harm it could do to local pets.” Or the destitute in the area. He didn’t add that last bit. Most people saw the poor as a blight anyway and would happily be rid of them just as much as they would pests. “We’ll handle your raccoon, one way or another.”
The tavernkeeper nodded, and Halsin was calmed to notice the relief in their face. They weren’t lying about being reluctant to use fatal methods, at least.
“You gonna be warm enough out there or should I get you some firewood? It can get a mite chilly now that it’s started snowing.”
“We’ll be fine.” Saiorse purred, pulling Halsin out through the kitchen into the Tavern’s yard. She’d had enough of this conversation, and wanted to get started, thanks.
Regin sniffed the air as he approached his usual tavern hunting ground. Okay, okay, it was the trash, but he was hunting for dinner so it counted. He paused for a moment when he smelled something unusual. He crept slower and more carefully towards the tavern only to see large furry lumps in the yard. Was that… bears?! Regin had only ever seen a bear from a distance before. These two looked cozy, all curled up together in the snow. Regin was jealous. He wished he had someone to curl up with on the snowy nights. It was too cold these days, even when he was a dog. Maybe if he was one of those fluffy dogs? He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at one of those to be one before, and even though he could see the bears real close, he knew being a bear would get him in way more trouble than a small dog would, even if it were warmer.
The bears didn’t seem to react to him arriving, so Regin decided to risk digging through the trash even though there were bears. They didn’t look like they wanted to attack him when he appeared, so maybe they would just let him dig through the trash. Besides, he knew the way up to the rooftops between here and his hole, so he was sure he could outrun a bear no problem, even if they were angry.
As he dug through the trash, setting aside the most edible looking pieces of refuse, he could feel the eyes of the larger bear following his movements. The smaller bear seemed to be asleep, right up until the point where it stood and lunged at the trash bins, all in a matter of seconds.
Regin didn’t know why the bear was coming after him but he did know that he definitely didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to get eaten by a bear! Abandoning his haul, little cloth bag and all, he skittered away down the alley and up to the rooftops, dropping his stripey-whatsit form just as soon as he was clear of the bear so that it wouldn’t be able to follow him by scent. Sure, getting back off of the roofs as a little boy was dangerous, but a whole lot less dangerous than being eaten by a bear!
Saoirse cursed as she lost track of the raccoon across the rooftops. Little thing was wicked fast, and the cats were right. It didn’t smell like a raccoon at all. She shifted into a shrew and skittered her way up to the rooftop, sniffing as she went. Unfortunately, the trail stopped dead just two roofs away, and the roof itself was awash in so much scent that her little nose got confused, and she was forced to head back to Halsin empty-handed.
“Nothing.” She said, as she stopped next to where Halsin was staring into the trash bin. “It got away.”
“It’s definitely more than just a normal raccoon.” Halsin rumbled quietly, and showed Saoirse the cloth bag that the raccoon had been carrying, sewn together with rough but intentional stitches. “I don’t think it’s a curse, unless that curse burdens it with a humanoid level of intelligence.”
“Were-Raccoon?” Saoirse suggested, though even she was hesitant to believe it.
“Possible. Or a Doppleganger trying to stay under the radar while it gathers intelligence. There are any number of things it could be, up to and including a fellow druid. Though, a fellow druid should have recognized our nature and spoken to us rather than running.”
“What if it’s a child, Halsin?” Saoirse said, leaning against his shoulder. “Would a child know druidic norms and expectations? If they aren’t yet part of a circle, they may not even be able to tell the difference between one of us and a standard bear.”
“It would explain the level of moxie this one had, to rummage in the garbage even with us both laying there. A normal raccoon wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near that close the moment it smelled us.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’ll be back for this bag. it’s a clearly well loved and cared for object, after all.” Saoirse said, running her finger along the rough seam. “Shall we adjourn once more to rest?”
“Aye, we shall. I would have you take a flighted form though, my heart. If it comes back, i do not want to lose sight of it again.”
Saoirse nodded, and as Halsin settled back to rest as a bear, she shifted to nighthawk and settled on his flank to keep watch for the raccoon’s return.
Regin shivered in his hole. Even his dog form wasn’t keeping him warm in this weather, and with no food in his belly he was feeling especially bad. With winter setting in, fewer people were traveling so there was less edible waste at the inn, so he was even thinner than usual. Eventually, he knew he had to go back and try again, at least to retrieve his bag. The bears couldn’t be there forever, and if he could at least grab his bag he’d be able to scrounge food from somewhere else tonight. Something, anything to keep him going one more day.
Without changing form, Regin loped out of his hole and back down the alleys towards the inn. He could at least see if the bears were still there before spending the energy to shift into his striped trash-dweller self.
Sure enough, the larger of the two bears was there, eyes closed in apparent rest. The small bear had yet to return, and Regin wondered if it was still trying to get up the building to chase after the stripey-whatsit he used to be. He walked around the inn’s area a few times, and then turned to go back to his home. One bear was there, but it was sleeping. That would probably give him the time to grab his bag and get out if he was lucky. He didn’t really have a choice, though. He needed his bag if he was going to carry enough food to keep himself alive.
“You seeing this?” Halsin rumbled, and Saoirse chuckled.
“That scrawny pup? It’s circled three times, each time checking you out, and the trash, and the building the raccoon disappeared on. If it comes again, I’m going to wing up and follow it and see if I can’t find its home.” Saoirse moved from his flank to the rooftop, to make it easier to tail the dog that did in fact reappear moments later, before turning and leaving.
She followed it, until it tucked itself into a literal hole in one of the town’s outer walls, before curling up. She started to reach out to Halsin to tell him what she’d learned, only to interrupt herself mid sentence.
Well, the dog seems to be holed up in— Nature’s Bounty, Halsin!! You were right! It is a little druid boy. He’s heading back your way as a raccoon, I can only assume to retrieve his bag.
Heard. was the only response Halsin gave, and Saoirse waited until the boy was well and truly gone before she shifted back to herself and investigated the den to try and understand him better. There was nothing here to identify the owner as anything more than a scraggly little dog. Bones, the inedible parts of cheese rinds (though these too were gnawed on) and some tattered bits of blanket were all that were here. The den smelled of dog, and of raccoon, and of boy, all of them seeming slightly off somehow. This boy had been doing nothing more than surviving, and that just barely. Saoirse felt herself flare with protective anger, but before she could say a word, Halsin reached her with another message.
I have him. Come back to me, my heart, we have much to discuss with this young one.
Regin shivered in fear, the large bear’s paw pinning him to the ground.
“Promise me you won’t run, child, and I will let you up.” The bear spoke.
Bears can talk?! Regin thought, confused and very very afraid. He just nodded. He didn’t know if stripey-whatsits normally nodded, but he knew that bears probably couldn’t normally speak common, so maybe it was okay if he nodded.
The bear paw lifted off of him, and Regin felt blessed to be alive. He wasn’t even hurt, the bear had been very scary, but careful, which was weird because the bear definitely should have wanted to eat him because bears totally ate things like him in the wild, and…
Regin’s eyes blew wide as the bear in front of him turned into a man. Still big. Still scary. Still very bear-like. But definitely a person now. Did that mean the littler bear was also a person!? Where was it now? Oh no, was it okay? Had it gotten hurt chasing him? That would be the worst, he never wanted anyone to get hurt because of him. Not like mama. Not again.
“You’re safe here, little one.” He rumbled, and Regin shook his head. How could he be safe, there was a big scary bear that was also a man and somewhere there was a smaller bear that was probably also a person that had gotten hurt because of him, and now he was going to be in trouble and…
“You’re scaring him, dear.” a voice said, as a bird landed on the fence near him and then… became a lady? Oh. They were… like him, then. People that could be animals. The lady wasn’t wearing much, just vines, it looked like, even in the snow. She crouched down next to him and reached out slowly, tentatively, before touching his nose, and saying ‘boop.’
Regin couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound awkward and stilted coming from a stripey-whatsit. He let go then, and went back to being a little boy. Hopefully it was okay with them, then, that he was a little boy who could also be a stripy-whatsit, and not a little girl like the tavernkeep said.
“There you are, little one.” the bear-man said, crouching down next to him. “I am Halsin, and she is Saoirse. Do you have a name?”
Regin nodded. “Mama called me Regin. Nobody else calls me anything though, so I must be Regin.”
Bear-man, no Halsin, seemed to be smiling. “I will call you Regin, then. Are you hungry?” He pulled some trail bread from a pouch and held it out towards Regin, who shook his head. He didn’t dare take anything from someone, that was the last thing he could possibly do.
“Mister Halsin, am I in trouble?” He looked between the two adults in front of him, still tense. He was still sure that he was going to be in real trouble, like with The Watch and everything. The Watch… he… really didn’t want to be handed over to The Watch.
“That depends.” Halsin said, not mincing words despite the youth in front of him. “Have you done something bad?”
“I stole from the trash.” Regin said. They knew he’d done it, there was no reason to pretend he was innocent. “I… I know stealing is wrong, always. But I was hungry, and it was the trash so that meant they didn’t want it anymore, and…”
“Shh.” Saoirse said, and Regin stopped talking immediately. “It’s not stealing if they threw it away, little one.”
“B-but I was also there when they didn’t want me there, I just didn’t have nowhere else to go so I kept using their trash even after they told me to leave, even though I had to learn to be a stripey-whatsit to do it.”
“A raccoon.” Halsin said, and Regin nodded.
“Yeah, a stripey-whatsit.”
“Who taught you how to be a raccoon?” Saoirse asked, now sitting casually in the snow next to him.
“Nobody. I just saw them and thought it was good that they had little hands and no one seemed to mind them being in or around trash.” Regin shrugged. “Dogs don’t have hands, so.”
“Did anyone teach you to be a dog?” Saoirse asked, then, and he shook his head.
“No, but lots of people called mama a dog so I thought maybe if I was a dog…” Regin didn’t want to finish that sentence, so he didn’t.
“Can you tell me anything more about your mother?” Saoirse asked, sharing a look with the man that Regin didn’t understand.
“She dressed a lot like you, well, kindof. Yours looks like plants, but mama mostly wore soft cloth, just… about as much as you wear I guess? It was red, always red. She was real pretty, her hair was real long, it went all the way to her hips! I want to have hair that long someday, but mine keeps breaking.” Regin reached up and played idly with the ends of his brown-black hair, shrugging.
“Where’s your mama now, Regin?” Halsin asked, softly.
“Oh. She’s dead.” Regin said, the relative nonchalance of his tone startling the adults. “I’ve been on my own for three winters now.”
Halsin eyed him carefully. “How old are you, child?”
“Seven, as of last summer.”
“And how did your mother die, if you can tell me?”
Regin shivered, but it wasn’t just from the cold. “The Watch killed her, Mister Halsin. She told me if The Watch ever took her that I had to run away and never go back home, and she’d find me, but… I couldn’t stay away. I knew I could get her back away from The Watch. They were looking for something she was hiding, like a pet, but she just swore she wasn’t hiding anything. She didn’t have a pet or nothin, just me. We couldn’t really take care of a pet, there was really only enough food for the two of us. But they kept saying they knew she was carrying it, and she told them she lost it, so it must have been something real important, cause the head of The Watch himself was there and he was so so mad. When she refused to tell him anything, he… he…” Regin’s eyes welled up with tears. He hadn’t cried over his mother since the day it had happened, why was he crying now? He almost didn’t flinch when the lady pulled him into her lap and hugged him. No one had hugged him like this since Mama.
“What happened to her?” Halsin asked, quietly.
“He shot her. With a crossbow. She fell down and never got up. I think she was gone right away. I.. I just ran and ran, like she told me to.”
Regin’s tears picked up then, and he sobbed into Saoirse’s chest until he was so exhausted he simply fell asleep.
Halsin and Saoirse took the boy into the room they had at the inn - they weren’t planning on solely sleeping outside, after all.
Once Saoirse had tucked the boy in, she sat down at the table with Halsin and sighed.
“So, the raccoon problem is a talented child druid.” She said, and Halsin nodded.
“Whose mother was likely a sex worker of some variety, hiding the fact that she’d had a child.”
“A child of some import, if The Watch was willing to go so far as to kill her over it.”
“Said child has spent three years fending for himself on the streets and not a single soul cared enough to take him in.” Halsin tried to tamp down the growl in his tone, but was generally unsuccessful. “I will not leave him to weather a fourth.”
“He wouldn’t be likely to survive it.” Saoirse said, sighing. “I have always wanted a son. Do you think… he would be willing to travel with us? Leave this place?”
“If he is willing, I will take him, lineage be damned.” Halsin said, reaching out to wrap Saoirse’s hands in his. “And I will teach him the proper names for animals. No more stripey-whatsits.”
“I want to feed him until he’s plump and happy like a young boy should be. I do not want to be able to count his ribs at a glance.”
“And make sure he can grow his hair long, like his mother.” Halsin said, the smile evident in his tone.
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Splendid is the Flower Chapter 1: Orchids
Series Masterlist Next Chapter
pairing: Frank Castle x fem!OC
summary: While getting to know Frank, Wren experiments with different ways of expressing her affection to the gruff man.
warnings: swearing, no use of y/n
a/n: This was supposed to be a single fic but it ended up getting so long that I split it up into 5 pieces instead. I had a really fun time exploring Frank’s character with this piece. Let me know if you want to be tagged!
w/c: 1.3k
“Once in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower
The people said, a weed.”
—Lord Tennyson’s ‘The Flower’
They had only been traveling together for a handful of months when she decided to try something new.
Frank was still a stone wall of sharp commands and exasperated grumbling most days. Wren appreciated his company nonetheless. His harsh demeanor kept her away from prying eyes and his proficiency with swords and crossbows had proven more than educational.
Despite his aversion to others, and, seemingly, to his own general happiness, he seemed almost…content with her companionship. While he still rolled his eyes at her cheerfulness, and ignored her attempts to care for him, she’d noticed a striking increase of smirks on his lips recently. She decided to take that as a sign that he didn’t hate her for following him around—even though he repeatedly reminded her that their fates were not bound together, as she had once suggested.
Regardless of why they ended up on each other’s doorsteps time and time again, Wren cared for Frank. She was one of very few, it seemed. His behavior effortlessly created a barrier that most people weren’t willing to cross, but she wasn’t one to say no to a challenge.
Staying on Frank’s good side while treating him with genuine care required an ongoing series of rules, otherwise she ran the risk of spooking him and ruining any connection that existed between them. She kept detailed mental notes of when each form of affection was accepted, if at all.
After a lifetime as a soldier and an outcast, Frank didn’t even flinch when vile words were thrown his way. The mere thought of some of the insults that had been hurled at him were enough to make Wren shudder, but Frank would merely shrug and move on with his day. To make up for the viciousness that he faced elsewhere, Wren had committed to using kind words around him early on in their companionship. He was clearly uncomfortable with praise and compliments (if the way he rolled his eyes and pretended not to hear her was any indication) but his footfalls always seemed lighter when she called him sweet or thanked him earnestly.
The next thing she noticed was his expectation of violence from everyone around him. Given his line of work, he had to be accustomed to brutality, but Wren found it sad that he was so at ease in a fight. Especially when he had practically hyperventilated after she tried to hug him for the first time. After some trial and error, she realized Frank did appreciate a gentle hand from her, but only every so often. Though he was clearly touch starved, he would shy away from Wren if she got too attached. She wasn’t quite sure what that was about, but she hoped to find out.
Because he had traveled on his own for so long, Frank had a difficult time asking for and accepting her help. If Wren needed something, it was absolutely futile to ignore his attempts to care for her. Even if he complained throughout, he would brood for days if she denied him the opportunity. She was hurt? He insisted on stitching her up. Hungry? He’d share his meal. Lamenting and objecting the whole time, sure, but he’d be damned if she didn’t have that last slice of meat. Unfortunately, Wren had yet to discover the key to returning the favor without him lashing out. She’d just have to keep studying.
But, one day, when she was running an errand for an acquaintance in a neighboring town, Wren realized something. Throughout all of her observations, she had never even tried to give Frank a gift. She had no idea how he’d react to it, but if she was careful enough… It just might work.
Once she was safely back in their temporary quarters, Wren fussed with the colorful bundle she had just acquired. Eventually, after much thought, it was placed next to Frank’s things. Intentionally close enough that he could inspect it, but far enough that he wouldn’t be forced to. Now to wait for him to react.
Frank was running late after a shit hunt that was for shit pay because the shit innkeeper had failed to realize that the “fylgja” he had asked Frank to find was actually a pack of draugar using illusory magic. When Frank returned with the rotting corpses of revenants instead of a beautiful woman who could grant immense fortune, the innkeeper was less than thrilled—giving Frank barely half of the agreed upon compensation.
Trudging back to their small room, Frank was downright enraged. Using his shoulder to shove open the door, he tossed the sack of coins onto the bed in the corner and began stripping off his foul-smelling, gut-covered clothes.
The room was filled with a rage-induced silence for a few minutes until a voice piped up.
“Hunt was that bad, huh?”
“Fuck!” Frank whirled around, blade drawn and pointed at a familiar, smiling face. “Wren, shit, you can’t fucking do that. Vicious pyret.”
Wren giggled, completely unperturbed by his dagger slashing so close to her. “Sorry, you just were so wrapped up in yourself, you didn’t even notice I was here. You hurt?”
“Not physically. Financially, on the other hand…” Frank grumbled, sheathing his weapon and returning to the task at hand.
“He shorted you?” Curious, Wren padded over and took a seat on the bed next to Frank’s growing pile of rags, inspecting the satchel of coins.
“Paid me less than half of what he promised—the bastard. Going forward, we don’t trust the word of a drunk idiot from Leybrook.”
“Understood.” Wren nodded in confirmation, turning back to face him. Her eyes twinkled with an emotion Frank couldn’t place.
After a moment, Wren stood up and began throwing his soiled clothes into a sack of other laundry that needed to be washed. Exhausted, Frank collapsed on the bed. Underneath him, something crinkled. Afraid he’d broken something of Wren’s, he moved cautiously to see what it was,
Sitting on the bed, mostly undamaged by his weight, was a bouquet of purple flowers wrapped in parchment. He’d been so preoccupied with frustration and disgust that he hadn’t noticed them until now.
“Shit, I sat on your flowers.” He groused, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he held them out to her.
“Oh that’s ok! They were for you, actually.” Still gathering clothes, Wren wasn’t looking at him.
Frank couldn’t tell if she was serious. He pulled the gathering of stems to himself, inspecting it. “For me? Why?”
“I saw them when I was foraging for Anna earlier today. They reminded me of you.”
“How on earth can I remind you of a flower?”
“Well,” She was looking at him through her lashes, clearly a little nervous about his reaction. “They’re Fragrant Orchids. They represent strength and resilience so, naturally, I thought of you.”
With that, Wren moved on. She started rummaging through her pack for a meal, as if she hadn’t just turned Frank’s entire world on its head.
“You don’t have to keep them.” She remarked. “Just thought they were nice is all.”
“No, I—“ Frank’s throat felt swollen with an emotion he could’ve sworn he didn’t have the ability to feel anymore. He cleared it and started again. “They’re—they’re pretty, Wren.”
“Really, I can take them back,” She stated, reaching out for the bundle. Frank’s hand drew the blossoms to his chest, instinctively.
“No!” He yelped. Then, more than a little embarrassed by his outburst, he added, “I mean—if we get rid of them, you’ll be sad and I can’t handle that. I won’t be the reason for that.” Yah, sure, that sounded plausible—right?
“Ok, if you’re positive.” Giving a shrug, Wren fished out some dried meat and stale rolls from her bag, offering a portion to Frank.
They ate in comfortable silence, but Frank kept stealing glances at the flowers, as if worried they’d burst into flames.
After the daylight had disappeared, and they both had slept, Wren woke to see the flowers in a pot filled with water in front of their small window.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle x oc#frank castle x female reader#frank castle#the punisher x reader#the punisher#marvel the punisher#jon bernthal#my writing#fc#splendid is the flower
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Fragile Things Chapter 13: Oh Great Gods Above, How Are You THIS Bad at Cooking?!?
Olimar tells a story about his wife while cooking. Afterwords, he's banned from the ship's kitchen. What can you do?
Ao3 link
Olimar wasn't the best at cooking. Louie knew that by now. Between frequently overcooking the space noodles they had and Olimar out right admitting it, well… what more evidence did he need? But after the stress of the past few weeks, these past few days in particular, Louie thought that Olimar would appreciate a way to keep his mind off things. Maybe some time out of his room and away from his notes would do some good. It wouldn't fix anything, of course (other than hopefully his awful cooking skills), but that didn't mean he shouldn't try to make the captain happy. Even if it only lasted for a little while.
He walked over to the control panel, where Olimar was currently sitting. The older man still looked exhausted from the wraith incident two days ago. Louie hadn't seen him even try to be in a good mood after what happened. He didn't blame the captain though. He wouldn't expect him to try. Still, he wanted to help in whatever little ways he could. So he gently tapped his captain on the shoulder, causing the older man to flinch and turn, before holding up his tablet. The notes app was open with just one message displayed: Can I show you how to cook a simple dish?
Olimar paused for a moment as he read and considered the offer. "I mean… sure. I can't promise that I'll learn anything, though."
Louie simply nodded. That was fine. That wasn't the entire point behind this. He just wanted to distract Olimar for a bit. Let him forget about the monsters waiting on the surface for them. It wasn't a good long term plan, but with how things were on this planet it was the best they could do.
With that, the two made their way over to the kitchen, Louie typing up a new message as he walked. Once at the stove top, Louie showed Olimar what he wrote: Simple dish. Just adding veggies to instant noodles to make them a little better. Using plants I foraged from this area.
Olimar nodded, seeming to calm a little at the instruction. "Ah! Okay, yeah that… sounds easy enough. So uh, what first?"
Louie began typing on the tablet again: Cut the vegetables I'm going to lay out. I'll show you how, just watch. After a nod from Olimar, Louie set the tablet down to grab a knife and cut the veggies. Normally, Louie would be able to blaze through this step, able to cut vegetables and even meat with surprising speed. But today he slowed himself so that the captain could hopefully see what he was doing.
Olimar nodded again, watching as Louie carefully cut up some plant matter into small disks. "You know… this reminds me of when Rose tried to teach me how to cook."
Louie turned to Olimar with a confused expression.
"Oh! Have I never told you her name…? Well, it never came up I suppose, so…" Olimar sighed, his ears leaning back a small bit. "She's my darling wife. Quite a woman." He then smiled sadly, staring at a wall.
Louie nudged him and offered him the knife. Maybe now was a good time for Olimar to start practicing, before he ends up lost in his own head like that.
The older man paused for a moment before taking the knife. His hands shook slightly, though Louie wasn't sure what was causing that. Slowly and steadily, Olimar began to cut the vegetables. His cuts were uneven and he was taking an eternity to complete the task, but that was fine. After a few slices, he began to talk again.
"I've known Rose for a very long time. We started to date when I was just twenty! Never thought I'd meet the love of my life so soon. We met at the community gardens… er, we met before that actually, but didn't really talk until then. She had changed so much from the last time I saw her that it took me a moment to recognize her!"
Louie nodded along, smiling a bit. This was good. Olimar already seemed in a better mood, lost in the trance of his story and the repetitive task. Also Louie had to admit, his stories were entering. The older man seemed talented in getting tangled up in the strangest of things.
"See, I met her in highschool when I was oh… fifteen? Yeah, I think so - she would have been sixteen. You may not believe it with how I look now, but as a kid I was a bit thin and spindly." At that he chuckled quite a bit. "Very geeky, kept my nose in my books and didn't have much of a spine. I was pretty easy pickings for the school bullies."
Louie frowned then, looking at his feet. Yeah that was himself not too long ago, too. The kids older than him had far too easy a time throwing slurs in his face.
"Well, one day they stopped me after school. Holding me back as they taunted and threatened me. The one asshole was holding a knife to my face. They wanted some valuable thing I had, I don't quite remember. And then Rose showed up. I had seen her occasionally in the hallways and in classes, but that was it. This was the first time we interacted. And it was because she wanted to protect me~" Olimar hummed a bit, a goofy smile plastered all over his face. He finished cutting the vegetable and was now starting on the second.
The ship's speakers then crackled to life. "That sounds… rather serious. Fifteen and basically being mugged."
"Yeahhhh I uh… didn't grow up in the best part of town. Moved as soon as I could."
"Were they ever reported???"
"... no." Olimar chuckled a bit, nervous. "They didn't mess with me again though. No one messed with those that Rosie protected." He practically hummed his wife's name.
"Hmph." The ship didn't sound too pleased, but what could it do? Olimar's story may as well be ancient history. "How many bullies were there?"
"Oh, three. Two were holding me back, one was in my face. She pulled that asshole back and slashed him."
At that, the ship went quiet.
Louie stared at him, watching as he nonchalantly chopped the food up. He had so many questions, he wasn't sure if he could type them up fast enough. Just… what the fuck?!?
After a while, the speakers came on again. "Like… with a knife?!?"
"Yeah. It was fairly shallow though, he wasn't really hurt. Just enough to scare him and his friends into running off. Well, that and her reputation. They knew that if they stayed any longer, she'd have put 'em in their place. Once they were gone, she hid her weapon away and helped me up. She was - and still is - stunning. A whole head taller than me, and at the time she was dressed head to toe in punk attire. I don't remember the details, just her spiked leather jacket and the bright blue blood all over her hand." He chuckled lightly. "Hell of a way to meet your future wife, but I just adore her."
Louie… Well, it was a non verbal day, so he couldn't say anything even if he knew what to say. Still, he found his mind blanking at the story.
"So you saw her attack someone and wanted to ask her out." Was the ship's monotone reply. "To protect you or not, she doesn't seem much better to me."
"Weeeeeeellllll…." The captain chuckled awkwardly. "Like I said earlier, we wouldn't start dating for another five years. Mainly because after she helped me up I, uh, ran. I was fucking terified of her. But I think that's fair."
"Honestly, it was the sensible thing to do."
Louie was still just staring, not responding. Yeah, the captain shure did get tangled up in the weirdest of things.
"Anyways, where was I…? Ah yes, I'd meet her occasionally in class. She was always nice to me, but I was still terrified. Wasn't till we both had graduated and were volunteering for the community gardens that we really started to talk. She had toned her wardrobe down a bit, so I didn't immediately recognize her. Meaning I wasn't immediately terrified." He chuckled a bit. "It was such a nice period of my life, it felt like the Gods were finally showing me some mercy." He reached for the third and final vegetable that needed sliced.
"In that your love interest was probably no longer interested in stabbing people?"
"Okay, first of all, she slashed them. A shallow cut, not much worse than a cat scratch. Just enough to scare 'em. Second of all, this was years - decades ago! Thirdly, she wanted to protect me! It wasn't for fun! The one fucker had a knife to MY face! And lastly, she still would attack anyone who dared touch her family. She may be a far more modest housewife now, but she is still powerful and protective." Olimar's fur bristled a bit, voice getting louder as he defended his wife. Louie flinched a bit from the volume, but he couldn't help but snicker from the scenario. After a few seconds Olimar sighed and the goofy expression returned to his face. "And I love her so much for it."
When the other two didn't respond, Olimar chose to keep talking. "Anyways, around the time we started dating is when I also started work at Hocotate freight! Been with the company for over two decades now! Didn't have much in the way of experience, but I suppose the president took pity on the scrappy looking kid who initially applied to be a janitor. He thought I was smart, and so had me train as a mechanic and pilot while I kept the offices clean. Now here I am." With that he sighed a bit, ears leaning back.
Louie couldn't help but frown as well. That sounded eerily familiar. It was the same for him, though he had a few mechanic and flight skills upon applying. Yet he was tossed right into the fire, being given momentous tasks on his first day. Louie couldn't help but wonder if the company president really took pity on the two of them, or if they were just easy targets for a less than stellar line of work.
Realizing Olimar was quickly becoming sad as he finished chopping the last of the food, Louie approached him with the tablet. He had to keep him on task. Turn the frying pan on, and put the veggies on. I'll be right back, just need to get the noodles from storage.
Olimar nodded, smiling weakly. "Oh, ah, alright. Yeah, I can do that! I think."
Louie nodded and left the captain to his task, leaving the kitchen and sliding down the ladder to storage. Not much was in there, just the noodles, back up medical supplies, and replacement parts for their suits should anything happen to them. They only needed two packets of the noodles, but Louie decided to go ahead and grab the entire box. They could keep it upstairs and not have to keep coming down here for noodles.
But once he got to the top of the ladder he smelled… smoke? And burning vegetation.
He dropped the box of noodles as soon as he realized what was happening, racing into the kitchen. Already, the fire had been put out by Olimar who still had the extinguisher in hand. The captain then turned to Louie and smiled nervously.
"Hey kiddo. I uh… must've had the heat on too high?"
Louie stared at the frying pan in shock and horror. The vegetables… were not vegetables anymore. Certainly not edible. They looked more like lumps of charcoal. Physically, this was impossible. Unless Olimar had an open flame, there was no way the food would burn so bad so fast. And such open flames were strictly banned on spaceships due to the danger they provide, so the captain certainly didn't have that. So??? How??? HOW?!? He looked helplessly towards his father figure, who simply shrugged nonchalantly.
In fact, Olimar seemed rather calm and unsurprised given what happened. With another nervous smile the captain just said "Yeah, the lessons with Rosie didn't go much better…"
So was this just??? Normal for the captain??? HOW?!? What was he, a damn dragon?
After a few moments of stunned silence, the ship's speakers eventually crackled to life. "Listen. If you don't tell the boss, then I won't tell him about you nearly destroying company property. Okay?"
At last, Olimar seemed confused. "What would we tell him…?"
"Captain, Sir, just… with all due respect: what the actual fuck?!?"
The ships were specifically programmed to not cuss for a number of reasons, though altering that line of code was very simple. Simple enough that apparently the ship managed to edit said code itself. A breach in protocol on multiple levels.
… yeah, they wouldn't tell the boss. That response was more than fair.
Olimar just stared blankly before shrugging again. "Your guess is as good as mine. This is why my wife usually bans me from the kitchen-"
"I'd ban you from this kitchen too if you weren't technically my superior!"
"... which is why from here onwards I'm banning myself from the kitchen. Louie, ship, don't let me cook again. Okay?" His smile turned playful, a light chuckle escaping him.
"I just - can't - how?!? And you say that as if I have the resources to babysit you!"
Olimar shrugged again as he grabbed the ruined pan. "Oh don't talk to me like that now. You know you love me."
"I detest you both."
Olimar burst out laughing as he set the pan up to soak in soapy water. Did he really think the thing was still salvageable??? "Louie, feel free to make whatever you want. I'll eat anything. Even plain ol' noodles again."
Louie just nodded slowly, still trying to recover from what happened.
Olimar pat his shoulder as he left to do gods know what. At least the captain was in good moods in spite of - no, because of his monumental failure. So technically Louie achieved what he really wanted to do. But staring at the kitchen now, he could only wonder how the man managed this. A failure this bad required talent.
He was going to hold Olimar to his previous order. Louie was NOT going to let the man touch any cookware for the rest of the mission.
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Listening to the demonically possessed cannibalistic priest episode while cleaning in front of a very large mirror as a person uncomfortable about mirrors for the Very Reason of seeing something that should not be there suddenly is not very ideal
Anyways
It was, one,
a Two Part episode
And two,
Connected to that one episode with the second appearance of..Jared Key, I believe? Horrible memory, me, so sorry, but this is an intresting one
I feel so bad for the guy ): he really just tried to help
#i won’t commentate every episode but only the ones particularly intresting#meat wall man wasn’t enough for me to take note of#lyrkerunlurks#tma#live blogging#or#live listen#??#yeah ok
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Audacity
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: Bucky has a long list of reasons to hate John Walker. But the fake Captain America deciding to flirt with you, definitely takes the cake.
Category: Smut 18+
Warning: Jealous Bucky is just soft dom! Bucky, dirty talk, penetrative sex, slight chocking, closet sex, and just John Walker being annoying
Word count: 1.9k
Author’s note: trying out this new format bc I liked the way it look when I did the Spencer Reid fic. A small spoiler warning for the newest FATWS episode but other than that it’s like an AU bc this really has nothing to do with yesterdays’ episode. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!
There’s a lot to hate about John Walker. The fact that he is trying to replace Steve as a cheap version of Captain America. His stupid face and the way he handles the shield. Even the way he speaks comes off as pretentious and arrogant.
But what really made Bucky seethe with anger is the fact that his little beady eyes would not stop looking at you. Undressing you with his eyes. Taking in every move and gesture you made. It made Bucky’s blood boil. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. How haven’t you noticed his insisting fucking starring?
“Can you chip your teeth? Because I’m pretty sure you might by how clenched your jaw” Sam said, patting Bucky on the back. He just rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything.
There was nothing that can be done. They made a silent pack not to anger the imposter. The government had asked Sam, Bucky and you to help out with a smuggling ring that they have discovered and low and behold, their little Captain America got his ass handed to him. They basically begged them to help. Bucky almost screamed a Fuck no into their faces but you managed to hold him off from punching the soldier that appeared at your apartment.
You turned around and bent over to pick up something. You were unaware that the fake Captain America licked his crusty lips while looking at you. He kept eying you like a piece of meat. Bucky rolled his eyes again and turned to Sam who was quietly reading the reports.
“Can I punch him?” Bucky whispered to Sam.
“Do you want your pardon to be revoked?” Sam said to him, not even looking up from the reports.
“There’s nobody here. Y/N won’t say anything. You definitely won’t mind.” Bucky whispered, glaring at the blond man that kept staring at you. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him. Therefore, why was he still looking at you?
Sam rolled his eyes at his ex-assassin friend. “Yeah, and later we can steal the shield.” Sam looked up from the reports and pushed them to the side.
“Exactly! Yeah, now that’s a plan.” Bucky said excitedly, standing up from his chair trying to make his way to John before being stopped by Sam, who grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him back into his chair. Before Bucky could protest, he heard you whistle at them.
“Hey, guys! I think I have something.” You said. The three men surrounded you, while you were explaining how you found out the new base location for the smuggling ring.
Bucky tried his best to focus on what you were saying and your explanation, but he couldn’t help but notice that the Kmart version of Captain America was inching closer and closer to you. Didn’t this man have a wife? Bucky swore he read that somewhere. Why does he keep staring and getting closer to you?
“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” The jackass said, when he “accidentally” bumped into you, he grabbed your waist and forearm to stabilize you.
“It’s okay.“ You told him, and let out a soft chuckle. Bucky felt his pen explode in his hand. The three of you turned to the pouty super soldier who just rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the schematics.
You knew something was up with Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Not after the pen exploding incident. Not even when you were joking around with Sam. He loved making witty comebacks to your jokes. It was your thing.
But maybe it was John Walker’s presence that made it uncomfortable for him. You knew Bucky hated the guy, mostly cause he took Steve’s spot without earning it. But there was something more to this. Bucky has always had a staring problem, but the number of sharp glares he has been sending to Walker has been enough to alert anyone. You couldn’t comfort him, not without making it super apparent that you are dating. And Bucky had already expressed that he doesn’t want to publicize it unless it’s only Sam that’s around.
“Agent Y/L/N, I think I found something,” Torres said, signaling to you to go follow him upstairs. You took one last look at Bucky, who was still glaring at the oblivious John Walker.
“Damn, I don’t know how you guys get any work done with that around you all the time,” John said, staring at you walking up the stairs. More specifically, staring at your ass.
Bucky looked at Sam, almost begging him to let him punch the douchebag that is this man. But Sam gripped his forearm. Bucky will not lose his pardon like this.
“How about we focus on the damn mission?” Bucky almost growled. John Walker put his hands up.
“I’m sorry man. It’s just- look at her.” John sat back and leaned into his chair. From the distance, he could see you talking to Torres.
“C’mon man. You asked us for our help but we aren’t here to do all the work.” Sam said trying to be the peacemaker between the super-soldier with a murderous gaze and the soldier with the wondering eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” John said trying to go back to the records. You were descending from the stairs and walking over to them. John brought his attention back to you. The way your hips would sway when you walked. The confidence in every step. Everything Bucky loved, and apparently fucking John did too.
“Guys, I think we need to rest for today. I am a little bit burned out. I think we all are.” You said, with your hands on your hips. Bucky felt his heart clench, you did look tired. Especially because you were almost doing all the work and piecing all of the clues.
“That’s an incredible idea.” Sam said stretching in his chair. He also looked tired. It made Bucky feel bad that he has been focusing all his energy on glaring and not helping out. He almost felt guilty.
Almost because a surge of rage flows through him again. John “Can’t take a hint” Walker smirked at you while you were grabbing the files that were on the table.
Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye. To Sam or the annoying motherfucker that made Bucky want to break rule number 2.
“Woah, Buck. what are you doing?” You said while the brunet dragged you around the base. His grip on your forearm was hard but not enough for it to hurt. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you wouldn’t like it.
There was something about how Bucky was walking, the silence, the way he was searching for something but never letting go of you.
Bucky opened up a closet door.
“Get in, doll.” He whispered in your ear, in a low deep voice. You let out a gasp, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You looked at Bucky in the eyes, and you knew he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. You entered the closet space without protesting.
It was a small storage closet. It barely had anything in it so you felt cramped. You turned to Bucky, while he closed the door. The man stalked towards you and you walked backward till your back hit the wall. Bucky had you cornered, and you didn’t mind it.
“Did you have fun, doll?” Bucky said, getting close to your face. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him.
“Buck, what are you talking about?” You whispered to him. Bucky rolled his eyes and took one of his hands off your hips. Placing it on your neck, lightly applying some pressure to it. You gasped at his touch, he chuckled a bit at your reaction.
“C’mon darling. Did you have fun playing around with the imposter Captain America? I mean he had fun looking at you. So I’m assuming that you had fun being looked at.” He said, with his hand still on your neck and his face inches away from your face. You looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.
“Oh, you didn’t notice that. Well, I did. Maybe I should teach you who do you belong to. Would you like that sweetheart?” He said, his breath tickling your lip. You nodded, breathless. Bucky smiled at you.
The hand that was around your neck, went to your chin. Grabbing it and pulling you closer so that your lips would meet. His hands started to wander across your body, while yours looped around his neck.
Your kisses started to grow hungrier, more desperate. As if Bucky spotted kissing you, you would fade away. His hands reached the zipper of your pants and pulled it down. Not even breaking from your kiss, Bucky managed to push your pants down. You break from your kiss to get out of them, while Bucky took off his pants and underwear.
He didn’t wait. He pushed you softly back on the wall and started to leave kisses and soft bites all over your neck.
“Jump, baby girl,” He said softly against your skin, patting your butt.
And you did just so. Wrapping your legs around his waist, with one of his hands on your ass and another moving your panties to the side.
“Hold that there, baby. Let me make you feel so good.” Holding his neck with one hand, you moved another hand to hold your panties to the side, to make it easy for him.
“Good girl.”And with one thrust, he was inside you, hitting all the spot. You moaned and gripped the back of his neck tightly.
“Like that doll? Can anyone else do this to you uhn? C’mon doll give me everything you got.” With every word that came out of his mouth, he would thrust hard and deep into you. You felt lightheaded. Your legs tightening around his waist but his thrust wouldn’t stop.
“Fuck, Buck. Don’t stop.” You gasped. Bucky kept kissing your neck. Overloading your senses. You were close, you knew it. Bucky knew it. You could feel him grin against your skin.
“Who makes you feel this good, doll?” He asked. You gasped at his sudden change in pace. He started to thrust more desperately, less controlled. He was close too.
“You. Fuck, only you.Shit, Bucky. I’m going to cum.” Bucky smirked at you.
“Then cum, doll.” Bucky silenced your cries with his lips. Still thrusting into you, letting you ride your high and getting to his. And that wouldn’t be long.
With one final thrust, Bucky came. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and let you down.
“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You said, putting on your pants.
“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled at you. You slapped his chest lightly, which made him laugh.
“I hope you realize that I would never go with discount Captain America over there.” You joked which made Bucky laugh even harder. You both were dressed and tried to look as decent as you could to leave the closet and the base.
“Let’s hope that fucking in an army base won’t be the reason you lose your pardon.” You said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, to give him reassurance. He gave you a smirk.
“Maybe if we let them watch, they won’t take it away,” Bucky replied to you, giving you a wink.
“Yeah and get John Walker to join would also help your case.” Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked at you.
“Oh, you are gonna get it when we get home.” Now it was your turn to wink at your boyfriend.
“I’m hoping I do.” Bucky shook his head but pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the exit of the base. Confident that John Walker couldn’t take you away from him.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader smut#winter soldier x reader
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one more time | markhyuck
"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc
warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping
disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.
note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore
against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.
but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.
plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.
talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"
deflowering mark.
punishing you.
he'd be killing two birds with one stone.
he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.
"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"
haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.
only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!
"what do you want?"
"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."
this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.
but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.
"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."
haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.
you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"
it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.
he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!
"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”
a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.
he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"
he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.
thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.
haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.
and mark, too. speaking of which…
you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."
before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"
he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.
he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.
"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.
haechan smiles.
"why don't you shut her up?"
it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.
frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.
and yet…
"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.
haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.
mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.
but he'll do no such thing.
not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.
your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"
you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.
"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"
there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.
"right, mark?"
"r – right…"
haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."
you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.
as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."
you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.
haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.
he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."
too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.
but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."
you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?
"no."
it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.
but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.
they weren't looking for you anymore.
just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.
haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."
he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.
there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.
rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.
something felt off.
the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.
"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"
this wasn't haechan.
and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.
how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.
how cruel. so, so cruel.
in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.
"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”
curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.
'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.
you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.
"i fucking hate you."
"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."
the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.
make him stop, your eyes said. please.
but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"
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I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕
First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣
Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.
Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)
Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.
Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.
Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.
Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.
GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)
Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.
He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).
It’s just another gruesome nightmare.
Although… there is nothing “just” about it.
The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.
With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.
In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.
She could come back.
She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.
His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.
Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)
Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.
The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.
It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.
You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.
Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.
Fucking Caleb.
Before that, he was doing just fine.
Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.
Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.
She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.
At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.
He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.
There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.
His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.
Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.
Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.
He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.
She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?
It’s true though.
Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.
Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.
Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?
Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.
After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.
Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.
And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.
With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.
Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.
But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.
Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.
Once, you’d found him lying in it.
Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.
Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?
What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?
Re-enacting my death, obviously.
Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?
Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.
Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.
When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.
He wants to be outside.
There are too many ghosts in his house now.
He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.
He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.
Fucking Caleb.
Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.
Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.
He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.
He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.
He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.
He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.
He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.
So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.
Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.
Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.
Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.
You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.
When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.
Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.
Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.
Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...
The glass door slides open.
“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.
A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”
You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?
If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?
Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.
After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.
The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.
“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.
You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.
The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.
“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.
You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.
Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.
He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.
And it happens all at once on the exhale.
Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…
Finally.
Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.
It is pounding because he feels alive again.
When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.
There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.
Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.
Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.
Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.
He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.
However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.
It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.
Finally.
“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”
You take his words in. You listen.
His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.
But it is enough.
Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.
You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”
In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.
As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.
It is.
You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.
He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.
Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.
And you…
“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.
You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”
Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”
“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”
Well, that’s news to him.
Welcome news, perhaps?
You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.
Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.
Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.
Always alone. That he might die that way; again.
And now, here you are.
Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.
But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.
Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.
And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.
Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.
He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.
“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.
You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.
“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.
You comfort him.
And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.
He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.
He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.
He wants you with him.
It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.
It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.
But he wants it to be.
And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.
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Fresh Kill - 4
Mob!Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Vigilante!Reader
Words: 1,770
Fic Summary: You were doing the world a service, actually, taking care of those who treated their partners with violence and anger. What you didn’t realize was that you had caught the attention of the city’s mob, and they want you to work for them.
Chapter Warnings: graphic depiction of violence, graphic depiction of murder, generally this chapter is pretty intense in places
Note: this is my favorite chapter of this fic, but it’s also probably the most graphic chapter of the story, so just be warned of that.
Series Masterlist
Part of you regretted baring your life to Natasha, because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid. When you started what you did, you promised yourself you’d never work for someone else, you’d never be the cleanup person or the patsy, but here you were. The Rogers family had some powerful enemies, and they had their hands in a lot of dirty dealings. The men you normally went after were easy enough to bait and catch, because they were brutes who often didn’t think before they acted. Now, your targets were a little more difficult. The world of the mafia was one you rarely stepped into (other than buying your meat from their butcher shop) but now you had practically dove into that life headfirst. One thing remained the same though, no matter how much these people tried to throw at you, you still came out on top every time.
Natasha gave you the targets by wrapping slips of paper with their information into the packages of meat you would purchase, so you made sure to stop by the butcher shop at least once or twice a week. But to be honest, you were in there every other day when they were open, because you wanted to see her.
You didn’t quite know where you stood with Natasha, but you knew the two of you weren’t just acquaintances. After your agreement to the “passive alliance” (as she called it), she had gotten much more bold in her advances, with lingering stares and light touches to your hands and arms as she spoke to you.
You liked working with the mob more than you expected. Maybe it was just the reward of getting to see Natasha, and not having to make up stories about how you spent your weekend as you talked, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be. Their targets were often just as satisfying to kill as your own, because at the very basic level, these men were all the same.
This target was particularly vile, and you thought you would never be able to wash his pungent smell off your body from where he groped you in the dance hall. The music of the swing band on stage pounded in your ears as you danced with him, hating every second of it. But you couldn’t get too comfortable, because he had stiffed the Rogers family mob out of a lot of money, and there was a lot riding on his death.
It only made the look on his face so much sweeter when he realized you weren’t here to sleep with him. The look of disgust he wore was apparent as he turned to leave the hotel room, but you were quicker than he was. You jammed your heel into his foot and brought your knee up to his groin, and he doubled over, his face contorted in pain. You easily pushed him into the wall and he sank down to the floor as you brought out your gun.
“You won’t kill me,” he taunted, voice slightly strained from the pain of your kick. “You’re not strong enough to pull the trigger.”
The tip of your weapon was barely an inch from his forehead, and you just laughed, because those were words that you had heard countless times before. “You really think that, don’t you? But you’re wrong. I was going to have some mercy on you,” you said, pulling the gun away from him and taking two steps back.
The man let out a sigh of relief as he watched your gun move away from his forehead. “I knew you couldn’t-”
But you cut him off by lowering your weapon and shooting him in the stomach. Pain flooded his face, and you approached him, pulling him up by his collar to stand face to face with you. You pushed him against the wall, making sure to push your hand into the wound, where you knew it would hurt the most. “I said I was going to have mercy on you, but you didn’t let me finish. I was going to let you die quickly and painlessly, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”
The man yelped in pain as you let go of him, and he slid back down the wall and onto the floor, unable to keep standing. You let him flail and whine for a few minutes before you raised your gun again and shot him once in the forehead. He stopped struggling as he died instantly, laying in a growing pool of his own blood. You took one last look at the desiccated hotel room and the streak of blood dripping down the wall as you left, making sure to pocket his wallet before you locked the door. There was still blood on your hands and you reeked of his foul cologne as you slipped unnoticed into the dark night, humming along to the song from the jazz club that got stuck in your head.
***
For a while, everyone was happy. Steve and Bucky were shocked when Natasha told them the truth about you, but they were fine with once they realized you were willing to work with them. They teased Natasha about liking you (something she vehemently denied but they knew she was lying about) and overall, things were just like they were before. Natasha should have known it was too good to be true though, because she soon got a letter from Loki in the mail, asking her to meet for drinks again. Loki never contacted them unless it was something urgent, something that would put their organization at risk, or if he found out that someone was after them.
Natasha met him at the same place and they sat in the same corner table as they did the last time she saw him. “Did you find out who killed John Hitchman yet?” Loki asked after they got their drinks.
“I thought you were getting the case sewn up,” Natasha answered cautiously. Despite the fact that Loki worked with them and provided them with a lot of good information, he was still a cop, and he was also incredibly manipulative. If he thought he could get a better deal by solving the case, he would do it, no matter what Natasha had asked him to do, and she really didn’t want to give up anything about you.
“I did,” he said. “As far as the NYPD is concerned, it’s another file on my desk that’s probably never going to be solved. But not everyone has the same willingness to look past this case. I heard chatter that Hitchman was involved with HYDRA, and that they’re looking for blood.”
“He’s mob?” It was strange that Natasha didn’t recognize him then, because she knew almost everyone in the various mafia circles, no matter who they worked for.
“No, a private contractor who occasionally works with them,” Loki said. “But apparently he was in the middle of an assignment for Pierce and didn’t complete it before he died. I think he was one of HYDRA’s favorites, and they’re looking to avenge his death. If you really know who killed Hitchman, it might be a good idea to warn them.”
Natasha nodded solemnly. She knew that HYDRA meant business, and if they were after someone, they didn’t stop. The one advantage you had is the fact that they didn’t know who you were, which was an advantage you had over pretty much everyone. You had told her a little more about how you get rid of your victims, and she had given you a key to the butcher’s shop if you ever needed to get in after hours. She was impressed by the level of thought you put into your kills, and the fact that you had already been using their dumpster to dispose of evidence under their noses showed that you were good at what you did.
And besides, Hitchman was a pretty intimidating guy, with years of strength from working at the docks, so HYDRA was probably looking for a man. Natasha hated how the world viewed her as less than Steve or Bucky, when in fact she was just as strong and just as ruthless as they were (and even more so than Steve), but this was the one time that it all came in handy. If Pierce was looking for a man, it was going to give you a head start.
The next day, you came into the shop, passing her the wallet of your latest victim over the counter. She normally wrapped an envelope with your payment into the cut of beef you were buying that day, but this time was different. “Can I talk to you in the back room?” she asked.
You nodded, confused. You had only been in the back room of the shop a few times, when the jobs you were working for them had more information than she could tie up in a nice little parcel. “What’s wrong?” you asked her.
“Why did you leave Hitchman’s body and not dispose of it like all the others?” she asked.
It took you a moment to remember who she was talking about, but after a few moments you responded. “His wife asked me to. She couldn’t get any kind of benefit from his job or from the government unless he was confirmed dead. She was out of state with her parents while I killed him, so she could be cleared of guilt and collect the money. Natasha, why are you worried about one specific job? The trail has long since gone cold, and here I am.”
Your voice was soft and tender, and you reached out to take her hand. The benefit of being in the back room of the shop was that no one could see you, and you could be much more open with each other. “Because Hitchman was apparently involved with HYDRA, and now they’re out for blood,” she said quietly.
You laughed softly. “Natasha, I’m not worried about that,” you said. “There’s a reason I’m here right now, and it’s because I’m the best at what I do. Besides, they’re probably looking for a man anyway.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “HYDRA does not fuck around, and if something happened to you-”
You squeezed her hand. “I’ll watch out for myself, okay?”
She didn’t seem too convinced, but she nodded. “Okay. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
You cracked a smile. “With our line of work, that’s a pretty tall order,” you said. “But I’ll try my best.”
- end of part four -
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff imagine#black widow x reader#black widow x y/n#black widow x you#mob!natasha romanoff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fanfic#marvel x reader#wlw x reader#fresh kill fic
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Magnolias in Springtime
Namjoon x Reader
Genre: Arranged marriage!AU, ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, fluff, smut, and just a smidge of angst
Warnings: Talks of arranged marriages, brief mention of polygamy (nothing comes of it, promise lol), oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, knotting
Author’s Note: This fic is based on a prompt from the Spring Fest “Spring Will Come Again” hosted by @bangtanarmynet! I really hope you guys enjoy it! P.S: There will also be a part two to this fic so stayed tuned for that!
Prompt: While their parents discuss behind closed doors the terms of their arranged marriage to each other, they meet in the blooming garden to go over their own conditions.
Your pack was your entire life.
Growing up as what some of the elders in your pack referred to as the spoiled only child of the Pack Alpha and the Pack Omega, you were doted on by everyone. As a child, you marveled at the Alphas when they brought back the animals that they had haunted for the pack’s dinner and now as an adult, you were having Alphas dedicate those kills to you as a sign of intention to marriage.
As a child, you tried to take notes on how the Betas seemed to be able to de-escalate any and all types of conflict, always seeming to have a solution that would placate everyone. Now that you were an adult, you found yourself going to those same Betas whenever you had conflicts with your parents or your best friends, because you knew that they would understand you.
As a child, you thought that it was the coolest thing when you watched the Omegas essentially hold the pack together. They were the ones who gave birth, they were the ones who mostly took on child rearing and cooking (even though the Alphas and Betas in your pack always helped out as well), and they were always there when you happened to skin your knee as a child or just needed comfort. Once you became an adult and presented, you found yourself gravitating more towards the Omegas as you were also one now, and they took you under their wings as you learned just what it really meant to be an Omega.
So in short, you loved your pack and you were extremely grateful for everything that they had taught you. Oddly enough, that gratefulness is exactly how you ended up in this situation.
“We really appreciate the fact that you’re doing this for us Y/N,” your Alpha father, Byung-hoon told you as he, you, and your mother Deiji waited on the edge of the Kim Pack’s territory.
“I told you that it’s fine Daddy,” you muttered, bouncing yourself up and down on the tips of your toes.
“Taking on this huge responsibility for our pack isn’t fine, but we’re grateful that you’re willing to do it,” Deiji said. Instead of answering her though, you decided to change the subject.
“Their territory really is beautiful,” you pointed out as you looked around, seeing multiple bushes of plum blossoms and azaleas. “At least I’ll have something pretty to look forward to once I move here.”
“That you will,” a deep voice added and when you turned around, you saw a large, muscular man walking towards you and following behind him was an almost equally tall woman who was easily one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life.
“Ah, hello Pack Alpha Ho-jin,” your father bowed and you and your mother followed his lead, holding the bow for a few seconds before straightening up again.
“Hello Pack Alpha Byung-hoon,” Ho-jin replied as he and the woman bowed as well. “This is my wife, Pack Omega Eun Kyung.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Eun Kyung smiled.
“This is my wife, Pack Omega Deiji and this is our daughter, Y/N,” Byung-hoon introduced.
“Hello,” Deiji smiled.
“Hello,” you echoed, even though your smile was a bit more forced than your mother’s.
“Oh, you are absolutely gorgeous,” Eun Kyung gushed as she stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing your hands. “Our son is a lucky man.”
“I’m sure that I am lucky as well, Pack Omega,” you replied.
“Please, call me Eun Kyung,” she corrected you. “I am going to be your mother-in-law soon.”
“Speaking of, where is Namjoon?” Your father wondered.
“He went off hunting with some of the other Alphas and Betas in our pack,” Ho-jin explained. “We plan on having a very big feast in order to celebrate their impending nuptials and he decided to go and try to find some extra meat.”
“Yeah, or to avoid meeting the wife that he doesn’t want,” you thought to yourself.
“He sounds like he’ll be an amazing provider and Alpha,” your mother smiled.
“Well, why don’t we all go into my office so that we can go over the terms and conditions of their marriage?” Ho-jin suggested before turning to look at you. “Y/N-ah, feel free to look around our territory and get a feel of the place. This will be your home soon, after all.”
“Of course,” you nodded. “Thank you.” After receiving a kiss on your head from your father and a pat on the hand from your mother, you watched silently as the four of them walk away together. As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a large rush of breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding. Even though you weren’t completely excited about this arrangement, your inner Omega wanted the parents of your future husband to like you and after meeting them, you were happy that you could seemingly not have that to worry about.
Deciding to take your future father-in-law’s advice, you walked away from the front of their territory and ventured around. You were amazed at how vast their territory seemed to be in comparison to your pack’s, large buildings and houses searching as far as your eyes could see. As you walked, you took notice of what seemed to be a schoolhouse, a building that seemed to be a sort of meeting hall, and even a building that looked like a store front with mannequins in the window.
The thing that caught your attention though, was a large archway that was covered in gorgeous magnolia flowers. When you stepped over to it, you gasped at what laid behind it: A large wall full of nothing but magnolias stood a few feet beyond the arch, a small bench placed in front of it.
“Gorgeous,” you whispered in awe as you stepped over to the wall, reaching out and gently touching the flowers.
“Who are you?” A deep voice called out and you jumped up a little, your heart almost beating out of your chest as you turned around to find the source of the voice. Standing right underneath the archway, was a tall, tan skinned man whose presence seemed to command attention.
“I-I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied, still feeling a little hesitant and the man’s eyes widened.
“You’re Y/N?” He wondered and you nodded your head. “Well, you’re a lot prettier than I thought you’d be.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” You questioned.
“I’m Kim Namjoon,” he said, smiling at the soft gasp that escaped you. “Your future husband.”
“Oh,” was all you could utter in response because holy shit, your future husband was hot.
“Where are your parents?” Namjoon asked as he stepped closer to you. “I assume that you didn’t come here alone.”
“Um, they’re talking to your parents about the ‘terms and conditions’ of our marriage,” you told him and he scoffed out a laugh.
“Of course they are,” he chuckled as he took a seat on the small bench. “Well, I think that while they’re doing that, you and I should probably go over our own terms and conditions.”
“Our own?” You echoed as you sat down on the bench as well.
“Seeing as though we’re both fundamentally being forced into this, I figure that there’s things that you don’t want and that you do want,” he said.
“That’s..true, I guess,” you nodded. “You go first.”
“Well, seeing as though you weren’t raised in this pack, I’d like for you to learn the ways of the pack and just be a proper wife,” he began.
“I’ve been learning about your pack since the discussions of a possible arrangement started,” you told him. “I have to wonder though, what exactly is your definition of a ‘proper’ wife.”
“Basically, just keeping house, cooking and cleaning,” he elaborated. “As my father plans to step down once we’re married, I’ll be too busy running the pack.”
“Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I wasn’t raised to be a docile Omega and I don’t plan on becoming one once we’re married,” you huffed.
“Why not? I mean, surely you don’t expect to run the pack with me?” He laughed.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I expect,” you smiled.
“How can you expect to lead this pack when they don’t know you?” He asked.
“Since I’m going to be here for the rest of my life, then they’ll have every opportunity to get to know me,” you shrugged.
“We’ll talk more about that one later,” Namjoon sighed. “Anything that you wanted specifically?”
“I know that your pack is going to be providing aid to mines once we’re married and as much as I plan on being involved in this pack, I also hope that you don't expect me to never see my pack again,” you said.
“That’s the custom when you marry into another pack though,” Namjoon pointed out. “Plus, no offense or anything, but your pack is broke in terms of both money and resources and I don’t imagine there to be much to even go back to.”
“I am my parent’s only child and my pack is very close knit so I’d love to still be able to see them and for them to come see me,” you continued. “At least three or four times a year.”
“Alright, I guess that’s reasonable,” he relented. “Especially under these circumstances.”
“Thank you,” you smiled.
“Oh, another thing,” he said suddenly. “I know that this marriage isn’t exactly something that either of us want but you cannot have any...uh, lovers on the side.”
“I’d never do something like that,” you frowned. “But I hope you know that the same goes for you.”
“That’s fine,” Namjoon nodded. “It’s not my style anyways.”
“In addition to that, I read your pack’s history and the whole taking more than one Omega as a wife thing isn’t going to fly with me,” you stated firmly.
“It’s tradition though,” he shot back. “Every leader of this pack throughout its’ history has had more than one spouse.”
“Your father doesn’t,” you pointed out.
“Because he didn’t want one.”
“And you do?” You demanded to know and Namjoon just chuckled.
“You really meant that whole not a docile Omega thing, huh?” He wondered and you nodded while smirking.
“You’re going to be Pack Alpha,” you said. “You have the authority to change tradition.”
“Fine, no additional Omegas,” he agreed. “I hope that means you’re going to be willing to have lots of pups then, since that’s what the whole multiple Omegas rule was for.”
“How many?”
“At least 5,” he replied and you just laughed.
“5 is a pretty big number coming from a man who’s not going to be pushing them out,” you giggled. “Two, at most.”
“Three?” Namjoon bargained and after thinking for a few seconds, you nodded your head.
“Deal,” you answered. “Anything else?”
“Just one more,” he added. “No roses at our wedding.”
“What? Why?”
“They’re overrated and cliché,” he shrugged.
“What about magnolias?” You asked. “Those are my favorites.”
“I like those,” he smiled.
“Well, it’s settled then,” you announced. “No roses.”
“You know, this marriage thing is easier than I thought,” Namjoon said thoughtfully, making you giggle at him. “Do you have anything else you wanted to bring up?”
“Nope,” you shook your head. “I’m good.”
“Shake on it?” He extended his hand out to you and you let him grab onto yours, shaking each other’s hands.
“Namjoon?” A deep voice called out and Namjoon sighed heavily.
“That’s my dad,” Namjoon told you. “Should we head out there?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, standing up and waiting for Namjoon to do the same before the two of you walked back towards the front of their territory. As you did so, you couldn’t help but to Namjoon hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time.
“Ah, I see that the two of you met and are getting along!” Ho-jin announced happily.
“I’d say that we are,” Namjoon nodded as he looked down at you, and you nodded as well.
“Well, why don’t we all move into our house?” Eun Kyung suggested. “We can have dinner and get to each other more.” After receiving nods all around, the group of you began to move towards the large cluster of houses that were a few yards away from where you were currently standing. As you let Namjoon lead you, you thought that maybe all of this actually wouldn’t be so bad.
..........................................
A few days later, your time visiting Namjoon’s pack was winding down. After the first day, your father had happily told you that the negotiations between him and Namjoon’s father went off without a hitch and that the wedding could move forward immediately so the last few days of your visit had been spent planning your wedding.
“So maybe you and Namjoon can have your ceremony closer to the evening?” Eun Kyung suggested. “So that way we can move right into the reception afterwards.” You, her and your mom were currently in the dining room of Ho-jin and Eun Kyung’s house, going over some wedding details.
“That’s a good idea,” Deiji concurred.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “Having the ceremony around 5pm sounds good.”
“Great,” Eun Kyung smiled as she wrote some things down onto the notepad that was on the table in front of her. “A later ceremony will hopefully ease some of the anxiety you’ll have that day.”
“Anxiety?” You asked.
“About your wedding night,” Eun Kyung clarified and your eyes widened. “When Ho-jin and I got married, we had our ceremony in the early afternoon and I was so nervous waiting for the reception to come because I knew what was going to happen afterwards and I had never been to bed with anyone before.”
“Oh,” you murmured. Of course, you knew that it was expected that you’d have sex with Namjoon on your wedding night and if it were up to your parents and Namjoon’s parents, get pregnant immediately but you had done your best not to actually think about it.
“Anyways, I think maybe roses for the flowers,” Deiji changed the subject and you gave her a small smile in thanks.
“Oh, that would be gorgeous,” Eun Kyung gasped. “Namjoon’s grandmother actually has a garden full of red roses and I’m sure that she won’t mind us using some.”
“Actually, no roses,” you spoke up and both older women looked at you.
“I thought you liked roses, Y/N-ah,” Deiji said.
“I do, but Namjoon doesn’t,” you explained. “We agreed on magnolias instead.”
“You both agreed?” Deiji repeated and you nodded your head, making her smile. “That’s great.”
“You know, it’s so nice to see you actually trying to make the best of this whole thing Y/N,” Eun Kyung said. “I know it’s not ideal and you could be fighting this tooth and nail but the fact that you’re not says a lot about your character.”
“Thank you,” you smiled lightly.
“Alright, magnolias it is,” Eun Kyung muttered as she wrote that down onto her notepad as well. Before the conversation could continue any further though, there was a sudden knock and when you looked up, you saw Namjoon standing in the door way to the dining room.
“Hey, you all back from hunting so soon?” Eun Kyung wondered, referring to how Ho-jin, Namjoon, and Byung-hoon had decided to go off and hunt right after lunch.
“Animals weren’t really out,” Namjoon shrugged. “Dad wanted to show Pack Alpha Byung-hoon our warehouse and I decided to come back here to spend time with Y/N.”
“With me?” You echoed in awe and Namjoon nodded.
“I wanted to show you around a little more, if you’re willing,” he offered. Before answering, you looked over at your mother who immediately waved her hands at you.
“Go, go,” she encouraged you. “We’re here for another two days so we can pick this up again later. Right, Eun Kyung?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed, turning to look at Namjoon after. “Show her the river.”
“I got it Mom,” Namjoon chuckled. “Y/N?”
“Sure,” you replied before standing up, walking over to Namjoon and grabbing his outstretched hand.
“We’ll be back by dinner,” he called out to your mothers before turning around and leading you through the living room and out of the house.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” you said as the two of you walked down the front steps and began to walk away from the cluster of houses. “All that wedding planning was starting to get to my head.”
“I figured, which is why I got out of there right after lunch,” Namjoon laughed. “But I also genuinely wanted to spend some time with you too. It feels like I haven’t had a moment alone with you since the first day you got here.”
“I think our families are making sure of that,” you pointed out. “I think they’re afraid that we may realize that we hate each other if they leave us alone together for too long.”
“I think that’s actually a great assumption,” he chuckled. “They don’t have to worry about that though, at least not on my end.”
“Mines either,” you murmured shyly. “So, where are you taking me?”
“Well, even though my mom suggested that I take you to the river, I think that there’ll be plenty of time for you to see that later,” he told you. “I actually want to show you something that I’ve been working on.”
“Cool,” you nodded as the two of you continued to walk and you noticed that he was still holding onto your hand. On their territory, there were a few different clusters of houses and Namjoon was leading you over to a different one, stopping in front of what seemed to be the largest house.
“What do you think?” Namjoon asked and you took a second to look over the outside, liking how it was painted a light brown color, had a large porch that already had a swing attached to the ceiling of it, and a large set of stairs.
“I think it’s beautiful,” you smiled. “You built this?”
“Yeah, for us,” he revealed and you looked over at him in shock. “What? I hope you didn’t think we’d be living with my parents once the wedding is over.”
“Namjoon, I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured in awe.
“Want to take a look inside?” Namjoon wondered, reaching down and pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. You nodded your head rapidly and he chuckled before leading you up the stairs and unlocking the front door. Walking inside, you let out another soft gasp as you looked around.
As soon as you walked into the front door, there was a little open space which could be used to place your shoes and jackets and then a staircase that led upstairs to the second level of the house. On your left hand side, there was an archway that lead into the dining room and kitchen and then on your right hand side, there was another archway that lead into the living room and another room that Namjoon said he planned on converting into a study. Once you went upstairs, you saw that there were a total of five bedrooms and the master bedroom was the largest and complete with an en suite as well.
“I love it,” you gushed as you turned to look at Namjoon, who was leaning up against one of the walls in what would soon be your shared bedroom.
“I thought I’d leave the decorating up to you,” he said. “That way you’ll have control over something here.”
“Good, because I already have ideas,” you grinned, deciding to throw caution to the wind and walking over to him, not waiting for him to ask what you were doing before throwing your arms around him. He hesitated for a second before hugging you back as well, and the two of you stood there for a few seconds with your arms around each other.
“I’m happy that you like it,” he whispered and you craned your neck in order to look up at him.
“I really appreciate it,” you told him.
“Anything for my future wife,” he smiled and it was when he said that that you realized how close the two of you still were. You dropped your arms from around him and stepped back, forcing him to let go of you as well. Feeling your cheeks warm up from embarrassment, you turned your back towards him and walked over towards the window to look outside.
“You know Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Namjoon began. “Why did you agree to all of this?”
“What, marrying you?” You asked for clarification and Namjoon nodded.
“I mean, I know the basic reason why but I feel like there’s more to it than that,” he said. “A lot of packs run out of money and resources at some point but their leaders usually figure something out instead of marrying off their children in return for more resources.”
“True,” you sighed before turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Long story short, I don’t want my pack to die out just because of my father’s mismanagement. I love every member of my pack and they have all been so vital to how I grew up and how I’ve become the person that I am. If me marrying into another pack will guarantee that those people can continue to live comfortably, then I’ll do it.”
“That’s incredibly selfless,” Namjoon replied as he walked over to stand next to you.
“I guess so,” you shrugged. “But to me, I’m just repaying the people who gave me so much.”
“That’s amazing Y/N,” he muttered.
“What about you?” You reversed the question. “Why did you agree to this?”
“Well, my reasoning was a lot more selfish than yours,” he chuckled. “It’s always been my dream to lead the pack and when my father came to me a few months ago saying that he was getting ready to want to step down, I was super excited. However, it concerned him that I’m 26 and not mated to anyone yet so he made it a stipulation that I meet someone and get mated before he allows me to take over for him. Since I planned on getting married at some point in my life, that stipulation really didn’t matter to me so I agreed.”
“Ah, I guess that explains why you weren’t too keen on me wanting to run the pack with you,” you said.
“Kind of,” he shrugged. “Although, after hearing why you agreed to all of this, I have to admit that I’m reconsidering that.”
“Really?” You smiled hopefully.
“Of course, you’ll still have to get to know the pack and our ways,” he pointed out. “But I don’t think it would be the worst thing to have you by my side.”
“Great!” You exclaimed happily and Namjoon couldn’t help but to laugh from how excited you clearly were.
“Do you want to go look in the other bedrooms?” He suggested. “Maybe see what you might want to do with them?”
“Mm, we don’t have to. I don’t want to overwhelm myself,” you giggled. “Why did you make so many bedrooms anyways?”
“Well, for our future children,” he confessed and you felt your cheeks immediately become hotter.
“Oh,” you whispered.
“Is that ok?” Namjoon wondered. “I know it might’ve been a little presumptuous of me, especially since I did it before we had our conversation about what we both wanted the other day.”
“No, no, no, it’s....it’s fine,” you shrugged.
“Oh, I get it,” he smirked. “You haven’t been with anyone, have you?”
“Namjoon!” You shouted in surprise.
“You’re nervous,” he surmised.
“Can you blame me?” You scoffed. “I mean, it’s already embarrassing to have basically everyone know that I’m a virgin but knowing what’s expected of us on our wedding night....it’s nerve wrecking.”
“It’s not that big of a deal Y/N,” he shrugged.
“Aren’t you nervous?” You asked him, only to see him shake his head. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve thought about filling you with my knot since the first day that I saw you,” Namjoon confessed. “So if you let me have sex with you on our wedding night, I’d consider myself to be a very lucky man.”
“Really?” You whispered.
“Of course, but I’m not going to push you,” he told you. “If you deicide that you don’t want to, then that’s completely fine. If you do though, just know that I’ll be more willing.”
“Good to know, I guess,” you muttered, more so to yourself but Namjoon still laughed at you.
“Cute,” he smiled widely as he reached down and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.
..........................................
A month later, your wedding day had finally come. After spending a week in Namjoon’s territory, you and your parents had traveled back to your pack’s territory where you prepared for the wedding alone. The only other time that you were able to see Namjoon had been when he and his parents decided to visit your territory in order to sign the treaty that would make the connection between your two packs official.
Fast forward to now, you were standing in the guest bedroom of Namjoon’s parents’ house, getting ready with your mom and your two best friends.
“I really wish you would’ve let me make you a more form fitting dress Y/N-ah,” Taehyung sighed as he pullzed up the zipper on the back of your dress. Your dress was pure white, with long billowing sleeves, a scooped neckline, and a loose, long skirt with a small train.
“You know that I hate tight clothing,” you pointed out. “This feels more like me.”
“And you look beautiful,” Jimin spoke up, taking a second to stick his tongue out at Taehyung.
“That you do,” Deiji grinned widely as she placed a crown of magnolias on top of your head. “You look like a dream.”
“Thanks Mommy,” you giggled. Just then, there was a sudden knock on the door.
“Everyone decent in there?” Your father called out and Jimin walked over to the door and opened it up, making your father gasp when he saw you.
“Oh Y/N-ah,” he murmured as he paced over to you, setting his hands on your cheeks. “My baby girl.”
“What do you think?” You asked him.
“I think that Namjoon is a very lucky man to be marrying such a gorgeous woman,” Byung hoon replied, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You ready? There’s still time to back out and we can always figure something else out.”
“I’m not gonna do that Daddy,” you huffed with a smile, reaching out and taking the bouquet of magnolias that Taehyung was handing to you. “I’m gonna do this.”
“We can’t thank you enough,” your father murmured and you just leaned forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek as well.
“What’s done is done,” you said. “So don’t stress about it.”
“Well, let’s go get you married,” Taehyung smiled as he reached up and pulled your veil down over your face.
“Let’s,” you whispered as you wrapped your hand around your father’s arm and let him lead you out of the bedroom.
The ceremony was an unrushed affair once you met Namjoon underneath the little archway that had been placed near the large wall of magnolias where the two of you had first met. You found yourself not even paying much attention to what was happening during the ceremony and before you knew it, you were facing Namjoon as the preacher pronounced you man and wife.
It wasn’t the first time that you’d ever been kissed, but it still felt different all the same. Namjoon was so gentle as he reached out and grabbed the hem of your veil, lifting it up and over your head to reveal your face. He then placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling them as he leaned forward and kissed you softly. You found yourself kissing back on instinct, your hands reaching out and grabbing onto his suit jacket.
The reception was definitely more fun than you imagined it to be. The food was amazing and so was the music, and you couldn’t help but to smile at how everyone in your new pack danced around happily as they celebrated your marriage. You found yourself having fun as well as you allowed Eun Kyung and Ho-jin to lead you around, introducing you to some members of the pack as well as spending time with your own family and friends as well.
Now that the night was over though, you were quietly walking back to your new house with Namjoon, which had been decorated to your liking.
“Did you have fun?” Namjoon asked and you looked over at him, nodding your head.
“I did,” you smiled. “Your pack sure knows how to throw a party.”
“It’s your pack now too,” he pointed out and you hummed in reply. Once your new house came into view, Namjoon helped you walk up the front steps before pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door.
“Wait,” he said when you moved to step into the house and before you could ask what he was doing, he leant down and picked you up bridal style.
“Namjoon!” You shrieked as he carried you into the house and you reached out to shut the front door for him. He then carried you up the stairs and into your bedroom before setting you down on the ground.
“What was that?” You giggled as you looked up at him.
“Well, I couldn’t let you be deprived of a prime wedding experience,” he shrugged, making you smile. A somewhat awkward silence then settled over the two of you then and it wasn’t until then that you felt your nerves kick in. You had been successful in not thinking much about your wedding night for the past few weeks but now that the two of you were alone, it was all that you could think about.
“You know,” Namjoon spoke up suddenly. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“Namjoon, we talked about this,” you replied.
“We did and I meant what I said then,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything just because people might expect us to.”
“Really?”
“Really. Plus, it’s kind of insulting if you only have sex with me because you’re expected to,” he joked, making you giggle.
“You have a point,” you smiled. “What if I said that I wanted to though, because I want to?”
“Do you remember what else I said to you when we had that conversation?” He wondered and you felt your cheeks warm up immensely as you recalled his words.
“Yes.”
“What did I say baby?”
“You said that you, uh, wanted to....uh,” you stammered and Namjoon smiled, deciding to take pity on you.
“I said that I wanted to fill you with my knot,” he finished for you. “And I still mean that.”
“You’ll be gentle?” You checked.
“Absolutely,” he stated firmly. “And I’ll go as slow as you need me to.” You knew that this was a big step, losing your virginity. However, something about Namjoon made you feel so at ease and besides, he was your husband now.
“I want to,” you announced, causing him to grin widely.
“Can I kiss you?” He requested and you nodded your head. He reached up and placed his hands on your cheeks before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. You immediately moved closer to him, placing your hands near his waist. He then took one of his hands off of your cheek and before you could ask what he was doing, he reached up and took the crown of magnolias off your head before throwing it over his shoulder.
“Someone seems eager,” you teased.
“You have no idea,” Namjoon chuckled deeply. He kissed you again, this time much deeper as he walked you backwards towards the bed. Once you felt the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees, you pulled away from his lips and looked up at him.
“Help me take this off?” You whispered, taking a second to turn around so that your back was facing him. Without any hesitation, he reached out and pulled down the zipper on the back of your dress. The feeling of his fingertips against your skin made you shiver and when your dress dropped down to the floor in a pool around your feet, the feeling of his eyes on you made you get chills.
“Did you wear this for me?” Namjoon asked before leaning forward and pressing kisses along the curve of your shoulder, referring to the white, lace bra and panty set that you had been wearing underneath your dress.
“Maybe,” you breathed out, his lips on your skin making it hard for you to focus.
“Gorgeous. Lay down for me?” He said and you nodded before bending down and crawling onto the bed. When you flipped over to lie on your back, Namjoon was working on taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the white dress shirt that he had underneath.
“You still ok?” He checked in as he climbed onto the bed as well and you smiled as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I’m ok,” you confirmed, leaning up and kissing him again. The kiss quickly became heated, your mouth falling open as Namjoon slipped his tongue inside. He then pulled away from your mouth, moving down to press kisses to your jaw before moving down to your neck.
“Been thinking about this, about you,” he whispered against your skin and you just blushed as you looked up at the ceiling.
“About me?”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed. “Been thinking about your scent too.”
“What do I smell like to you?” You wondered, doing your best to keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you felt him start to move down again.
“Like...pineapples and bananas,” he murmured as he grabbed the cups of your bra, pulling them down so that they sat right underneath your breasts. He then leaned down and sucked your right nipple into his mouth, making you arch your back up from the bed.
“Holy, huh,” you moaned and Namjoon chuckled at you, which automatically made you pout. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized after popping your nipple out of his mouth. “You’re just so cute.” You couldn’t find the words to say anything else because Namjoon reached underneath you and you lifted your back up so that he could take your bra off completely, and he didn’t waste any time before taking your left nipple into his mouth.
Once both of your nipples had stiffened to a peak, he moved downwards again, trailing his lips across your skin until he made it down to the line of your panties.
“Lift up for me?” Namjoon asked and slowly, you lifted your hips and waited until he had grabbed the waistband of your panties and pulled them down before lowering your body back onto the bed. Once he pulled them off of your legs and threw them off the bed, you watched as he sat his hands on your knees and looked down at you.
“Still good?” He wondered.
“Seriously, stop asking,” you giggled. “I’m nervous as hell but I want to do this so I’m good.”
“I just, you know you can tell me to stop at anytime and I will, right?”
“I know, and that’s why I want this,” you smiled. “Want you to give me a bite.”
“Fuck, ok,” he exhaled harshly. “I want to eat you out first though.”
“Ok,” you nodded and you allowed him to push your knees apart, exposing your folds to him. He laid down on the bed so that he was right in between your legs, and you let out a loud gasp when you felt his tongue make contact with your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to make slow circles around your clit and even though he wasn’t placing a lot of pressure behind it, you felt like you were going to lose your mind.
“Holy shit, that feels...good,” you huffed and you felt Namjoon hum against you as he closed his entire mouth around your clit. The feeling was almost euphoric, and you couldn’t believe that you had been missing out on this for the last few years since you presented as an Omega.
“I’m gonna give you a finger ok?” Namjoon spoke up after taking his mouth off of you and you nodded, wincing lightly when he began to push his pointer finger inside of you. He then began to slowly pump the digit in and out of you, which made you moan lightly.
“Feels good?” He asked.
“Yeah. Weird but good,” you told him.
“Good,” he smirked. “You’re getting wet.”
“Don’t say that,” you groaned.
“Why not? It’s a good thing,” he shrugged. “It’ll make it easier for you to take my knot.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Good thing you’re stuck with me,” he smiled before leaning down and taking your clit back into his mouth. As he fingered and licked you simultaneously, you found it a little harder to breathe because of the pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” you hissed when he tried to ease his middle finger inside of you.
“It’s ok baby, we just gotta get you stretched out a little bit,” he whispered and you just decided to be quiet and let him do it. Admittedly, you admired how much time he was taking making sure that you were properly ready and it made your heart soften because you had never had a man (other than your father) be so gentle with you.
“Namjoon, I-I think I’m going to come,” you whimpered and Namjoon took his mouth off of your clit for a few seconds.
“Go ahead baby,” he encouraged you before placing his mouth back on you. Sure enough, it didn’t take much longer before your body seized up, your orgasm washing over you. Namjoon continued to stroke you through it and by the time that it passed, you were reaching down and pushing him away from you.
“Holy shit, that felt good,” you giggled, making Namjoon laugh as well.
“That’s good,” He replied as he sat up onto his knees. When your eyes trailed downwards, they widened a little at the sight of the bulge in his pants.
“Should I, um,” you stammered as you motioned towards his pants and he looked down, chuckling before looking back up at you.
“You don’t have to and besides, seeing you come turned me on and I doubt I’d last,” he admitted.
“Oh, ok,” you smiled shyly. He then pulled off the dress shirt that he had on, letting it fall onto the floor before moving onto his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them before pulling them down. He pushed them, along with his underwear, down his legs and your jaw dropped a little from the sight of his cock.
You didn’t know what you expected, but you definitely didn’t expect his cock to be so thick and long. You had to admit, actually seeing it made you even more nervous.
“Hey,” Namjoon called out and you looked up at him. “It’ll be ok. I’m still going to go slow.”
“O-Ok,” you whispered as he climbed between your legs. He reached out with two fingers and gathered some of your slickness from your orgasm before using it to lubricate his cock.
“Ready?” He questioned as he positioned his cock right in front of your entrance and once you nodded, he slowly began to push into you. The stinging pain hit you immediately and you yelped out loud, reaching up and clutching onto Namjoon’s forearms. “Y/N?”
“Hurts,” you muttered through grit teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, bending down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t try to push any further, he waited until you gave him a small nod before pressing his hips forward again. You were almost ready to tell him to forget the entire thing as the stinging pain seemed to become worse the more he pushed into you. Before you knew it though, he had bottomed out and was looking down at you intensely.
“What?” You asked him.
“You just, you look so beautiful,” he complimented you.
“Are you just saying that because you’re inside of me right now?” You joked.
“I mean it,” he laughed.
“Well, thank you,” you responded and he leaned down to kiss you again. He then slowly pulled his hips back before pushing back in, which caused you to let out a stuttered moan into his mouth. The pain was still thee but as he began to fuck you, it slowly went away and was replaced by what was probably the greatest pleasure that you had ever felt in your life up to that point.
“So tight baby,” Namjoon grunted after he pulled away from the kiss.
“F-feels so full,” you whimpered.
“Good. I’m gonna fill you even more with my knot,” he said gruffly as he looked down at you. “You want that?”
“Yes.”
“Say it,” he instructed you.
“I-I want your.....k-knot,” you stuttered and he literally groaned at your words. He began to fuck you a little faster, making you grip onto him and wrap your legs around his waist.
“Been thinking about this,” he moaned. “Been thinking about how good you would feel wrapped around my cock.”
“Me t-too,” you confessed.
“Fuck, you’ve been thinking about me baby?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Since you told me that you wanted to...fill me with your, uh, knot. Thought about you calling me baby too.”
“You like it?” He smiled.
“Love it.”
“Then I’ll call you that as often as I can,” he promised. He continued to fuck you, and you realized that you were feeling the same buildup of pressure that you did when he was fingering you.
“I-I’m gonna come Namjoon,” you announced breathily and he sighed.
“Thank god,” he huffed as he began to thrust into you both faster and harder, and your grip on him became so tight that you were sure you’d leave marks on his skin. “I wanna knot you so fucking bad.”
“Do it,” you encouraged him. “Want you to bite me too.”
“Come first,” he shot back as he focused all of his energy into making sure that you did so. After a few more thrusts, you were coming right onto his cock, your essence covering more of his cock every time that he pulled it out and then pushed it right back in.
“Ready for a bite?” He asked and you nodded your head numbly. Leaning down, he stuck his face in your neck and began to suck on the skin there. As soon as you released a moan at the feeling, you felt his teeth sink in.
You had heard a lot about mating bites and how it would feel when you finally received one, but you could truthfully say that the feeling was indescribable. You truly felt like you were now connected to Namjoon in a way that you had never been connected with any one before and the feeling was almost so overwhelming that you almost didn’t recognize that Namjoon’s knot was pushing its’ way inside of you.
“God damn,” Namjoon groaned deeply as his knot fully popped into you, and you gasped when you felt his cum pouring into you right after. You leaned up and after finding the perfect spot, you sunk your teeth into his neck as well, giving him a mating bite too.
Namjoon collapsed on top of you and the two of you stayed like that for a while, at least 15 minutes, basking in the after glow of your new matching mating bites.
“No offense or anything,” you spoke up. “But you’re heavy and it’s hot in here.”
“Some offense taken,” he laughed as he lifted himself off of you. “My knot has gone down but it’s gonna hurt when I pull out.”
“Go slow, ok?” You requested and he nodded, looking down in between your legs and slowly pulling out of you. It did hurt a little and you even winced a little bit, but it wasn’t that bad all in all.
“Y/N-ah?” He called as he laid down next to you and you gently turned over onto your side to face him.
“What happened to baby?” You simpered with a teasing smile, making him chuckle.
“I’m still gonna call you that,” he assured you. “But I wanted to talk to you seriously.”
“Ok, shoot,” you shrugged.
“I know that you didn’t necessarily choose all of this and neither did I, but I don’t want you to worry,” he began. “I take this marriage and this relationship just as seriously as if we met in the conventional sense and I really mean it when I say that I can see myself falling in love with you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he smiled. “Even though we haven’t known each other long, I can already tell that you’re kind, selfless, loving, and the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever met in my life. I’d only be so lucky if you fell in love with me.”
“Well, I think that I can fall in love with you too,” you confessed, making him grin widely. “And I hope that I do.”
#BAspringwillcome#bangtanarmynet#bts#bts namjoon#bts rm#abo bts#namjoon x reader#rm x reader#namjoon smut#namjoon fluff#namjoon angst#rm smut#rm angst#rm fluff#bts x reader#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst
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Mr. Handsy {Clyde Logan x wife!Reader}
@icarusinthesea :
Okay, okay. I think I've thought of something. Eh, it's a mediocre idea, but it does it for me. Fighting with Clyde followed by sweet, hot, nasty make up sex. I can not think of anything else. But whatever you write I'll love. 🥰
author’s notes: hello, hello! writers block has been hitting HARDCORE as of late, which is kind of a bummer, but luckily I’m feeling a bit better now! @icarusinthesea thank you for this request!! I hope it was worth the (very long) wait, and I send love to you, friend <3 <3
warnings: fluff. smut. club brawls. violence against an asshole. protectiveness. dom!Clyde. oral sex (m receiving). rough sex. unprotected sex/creampie.
(possible) tw’s: non-con touching (not by Clyde). physical conflict. sex in a public restroom.
word count: 1.9k
my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie @gotham-city-uber-driver @gildedstarlight @slytheriin2002
clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney @trubluepensfan @beachwoodmonet
if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, the sign up is linked here and can also be found in my description :)
You had a bad feeling about this place from the very beginning, from the moment you stepped into this stupid sleazy club for your co-worker’s birthday.
Clyde decided to tag along, mainly to hang out with the other poor guys whose wives dragged them along tonight.
The bass pulses your eardrums as you make your way over to the booth that they’d claimed, saying some very loud ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ to everyone before taking a seat on Clyde’s lap.
Your outfit certainly matches the locale of tonight’s party, sexy and risqué while maintaining at least some coverage and dignity for your larger areas. Clyde’s been having some trouble keeping his eyes, and now that he can, his hands, off you.
His calloused flesh hand runs over your thigh and hip in a soothing manner, mindless in its movements over your exposed skin.
Soon, a good dancing song comes on and no matter how much you try to beg Clyde to join you on the crowded floor, he refuses, insisting that you go have some fun with your friends.
His eyes keep a close watch on you, knowing that unfortunately, it’s highly likely that some bonehead Joe will come along and think he can touch without permission.
He finds himself in a sort of entranced state, watching the way your hips move when you dance, watches your skin bounce and jiggle with each motion, sees the way the multicolored lights bounce off the sequins on your dress…
Sure enough, said bonehead Joe dances his way over to you, not-so-subtly checking you out from a bit of a distance before making his approach.
Clyde almost instantly leaps into action when his hand touches your hip and he slides in behind you. Thinking that the man behind you is Clyde, you start grinding against him a bit more, smirking.
But, only after a second or two, his motions and touch begin to feel awfully foreign. You’ve just truly begun to doubt your dancing partner’s identity when he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“Keep dancing like this and I’ll just have to take you home, babygirl.”
Goosebumps form on your skin in disgust the moment you hear an unfamiliar voice, yanking away from his grubby grip.
“How dar—“
“Hey, you!”
Your eyes widen and you look around the man to see a very angry-looking Clyde storming his way over to where you’re standing.
He turns the handsy man around with a hand on his shoulder, then gives him a shove.
“Can’t ya see she’s married, asshole? Don’t you ever think ya can just go ‘round here, touchin’ what ain’t yours.”
“Cly—“
“Don’t ya even start with me right now, Y/N. I can’t believe ya didn’t stop ‘im, can’t believe ye kept grindin’ against ‘im.”
Your eyes widen.
“Clyde, p-please, it’s not like tha—“
“I thought I told ya t’ can it, Y/N.”
You shudder at his commanding and harsh tone, immediately backing down and biting your lip as the tears swell in your eyes.
The man wears a small smirk, giving Clyde an equally rough shove backwards.
“And what, you’re telling me she’s yours? Bullshit she is. Who’d ever wanna marry a one-armed redneck like you?”
Big mistake. Clyde used to just stand down and shut off whenever someone made fun of his disability, but usually now, he just gets fucking pissed.
Sure enough, his jaw clenches and he quickly lunges at Mr. Handsy, forcefully knocking him to the scuffed dance floor. Often times, mostly due to his kind and gentle demeanor, you forget that Clyde’s a veteran. A special ops veteran, at that.
You can’t deny that bearing witness to his unbridled anger and dominance isn’t at least a little bit sexy, even if you do feel incredibly guilty about not realizing sooner that it wasn’t Clyde.
Like the coward he truly is, and that many men like him are, he flees the scene quickly when he looks up and sees the anger in Clyde’s eyes.
Meanwhile, you instantly rush up to him, apologizing repeatedly.
“Clyde, I’m so sorry, I thought it was you and I didn’t mean to—“
He snatches your wrist, bending down so that his hot, slightly strained breath wafts across your face.
“You’d better yer slutty ass into the restroom right fuckin’ now.”
He growls, letting you go.
You nod, whimpering under your breath as you scurry off into the bathroom.
He follows after you, pushing you into the single stall before reaching around to lock the door.
“Clyde, please, I’m so sorry. I promise that I didn’t know it wasn’t you until he spoke and I pulled away right after that. I would never…”
He holds a hand up and you trail off, then crosses it back over his chest along with the other. When you look up at him, ready to apologize further, he gives you a subtle head shake and a faint smile.
“Get m’ cock out.”
You know, then, that he’s not mad, and you know exactly what he wants from you. You step up to him with a small smirk and pop the button on his Levi’s, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to fish out his half-hard length.
“Now stroke it. You know how I like it.”
Your hand holds a steady grip around the protrusion, starting off slow but quickening randomly, just as he likes it.
His head tilts back onto the cheap tiled wall, nostrils flaring as he exhales shakily.
“Thaaaaat’s m’ girl, just like that.”
You speed up just a bit, focusing your pressure and ministrations on the upper half of his shaft, moving the little bit of excess skin up and down his shiny pink head.
“Mmmmffhhh.”
He groans through pursed lips, hips rutting forward into your touch.
Suddenly, he pushes your hand away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to cope with the sudden loss of stimulation on his pulsing arousal.
“Knees.”
You get onto your knees, using his shoes as cushioning.
“Mouth open.”
Your jaw falls open and he wastes no time in moving himself into proper position, sheathing himself fully in your mouth.
“Ghhhohhh, s-shit.”
You’re choking right off the bat, shoulders shaking with each violent cough.
“Yeah, take it. Gon’ make ye choke on me, shove m’ cock down yer lil throat ‘till ya can’t breathe no more.”
You somehow manage to moan around him in between your gags and coughs, lungs panicked for the rough cutoff of airflow by Clyde’s length. Tears begin to swell in your eyes, soon running down your cheeks.
His eyebrows are tightly knitted in the center of his forehead, skin glistening with the beginnings of sweat as his hips rut into your cavern even quicker and rougher now.
Clyde has to physically pull himself away from your mouth, shuddering as his cock bobs and throbs angrily at the loss of friction. His hand splays out on the wall, chest heaving as he takes a moment to re-gain composure.
Then, he looks down at you, gaze sizzling your very skin.
“Up. Turn yerself ‘round n’ bend over, ass out n’ legs spread nicely.”
You put yourself into the position, wiggling your ass just a bit for play after pushing your jean shorts down, earning you a harsh smack across your newly-exposed skin. He smirks when you squeal softly, giving himself a few lazy strokes as he steps up behind you, lips instantly attacking your neck.
“Yer gon’ walk outta ‘ere with all o’ my marks on your neck, hickeys n’ bite marks. Maybe then everyone’ll understand who it is ya belong t’."
His chin digs into your shoulder, then he’s thrusting forward, filling you up and stretching you out to the max. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.
“Ohhhhh.”
He groans into your ear, chin digging into your shoulder as he begins fucking you fast and hard. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about this union; it’s hunger and wanting, it’s pure carnal lust.
Tears quickly swell up in your eyes at the sweet pleasure currently surging through your body, tickling every nerve ending and igniting every pleasure center.
It’s humid in the club, the bathroom no exception and already, a sheen of sweat has formed on the surface of your skin. Clyde’s good hand takes an even firmer hold on the meat of your hips, hips thrusting at an impossibly fast pace.
“G’damnit, wrapped ‘round m-me so tight, fffuck Y/N. Such a lil’ cccunt, love shovin’ m’ b-big cock in ya, ssssplittin’ ya right in half--christ.”
You love how his accent gets thicker and thicker at times like this, so much so that sometimes you can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. It’s adorable.
“Mmm, C-Clyde! Please baby, please mmmake me cum!”
His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking as hard as they possibly can while he reaches around to rub your clit with the cool metal digits of his prosthetic.
Your hips instantly grind down on him, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.
“Ohh god, mmmmmfffuck--right there! Yes, yes, Clyde!”
“Say y-yer mine.”
He growls into your ear, panting.
“Tell everyone who ya bbbelong to. Scream ma name w-when ya cum.”
“Y-Yours, all yours, Clyde. I’m yours!”
You whimper.
Clyde fucks you with everything he’s got, biting into your skin and sucking more of the flesh until you’re littered with marks. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, body trembling as you release all over his shaft with a shout of his name.
“Clyde! C-Clyde, fuck!”
Not long after you, Clyde falls over the edge, desperately rutting and fucking each drop of his hot load deep into your spasming cunt.
“Y/N, g’damnit...fuuuckin’ s-shit!”
Both of you are rendered breathless as you come down from your respective highs. His lips and tongue gently soothe the harsh bites and bruises that have been left behind in his wake.
He sighs softly when he pulls out, helping you pull your shorts back up before tucking himself back into his pants. When you turn around, he crashes his lips into yours, hands resting gently on your hips.
“‘m real sorry fer that, Y/N; dunno what got int’ me. I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”
You smile, cradling his face in your hands.
“Clyde, there is no need to apologize or feel bad for that. You know if I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you or said something. I loved it, more than I probably should have, and I love you.”
His lips tug up into a soft, lopsided smile, relief flooding across his expression.
“I love ya too, Y/N, so, so much. Thank ya fer puttin’ up with me n’ bein’ mine.”
“No ‘thank you’ necessary, baby. I’m yours, always yours.”
Clyde grins, pulling you in for a hug as he repeats your words out loud.
“All mine.”
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The Duty of a Hero
Author’s Note: Howdy folks! I’m here with my first proper fic and I really hope that y’all like it! This will be exploring what could’ve happened if the Dabi that Aizawa fought wasn’t one of Twice’s clones. Since this is a fight, I advise the folks that are sensitive to things like that to click off and read another fic. Also, since this story does change scenery and moods a bit, I included some songs that change along with the the stories mood! This is mainly just because I like showing off my music taste and shit. Here’s Part 2!
Songs to Go Along: The Fighter by In This Moment, Acid Bubble by Alice In Chains, The Great Gig In The Sky by Pink Floyd
I felt extremely at peace for once in life. I felt the normal crackling of my joints silence into a warm nothingness. My aching muscles that had been torn to shreds time and time again, the ones that had been strained and stretched beyond the limits of the human body seemed to reform perfectly as they melted into the rest of my numb form. My skin, a forest of calluses, scars, stitches, and open wounds felt as if it was no longer there. I was no longer confined to the space of my body, and instead moved around as freely as water or air. I was a sort of goo, unmoving, stationary, simple, yet free.
With a quirk as self-destructive as mine, becoming a hero was a sort of death wish. My quirk was known as “pain transfer.” Anytime I made eye contact with a person, I could activate my quirk and subject myself to pain only to have them suffer the pain of the injury for as long as I was looking at them. I could also transfer existing pain to my target. Although I may have had a wicked high pain tolerance and quick recovery period, my humanity was bound to catch up to me eventually. Quirks like mine, “villainous quirks” according to most people, should be kept hidden and the people born with them should go on to live normal lives as ordinary civilians. My parents were among these people. When I told them that I was enrolling in the hero course at UA, I was given the choice to either become a hero and be disowned, or ditch my pipe dream and stay their beloved child. I packed my things that night.
It was a miracle that I passed the entrance exam the next day. I was running on little sleep, the loss of my financial support, and the trauma that came with the realization that your parents didn’t love you anymore because you didn’t live in a way that they approved of. I had trained since my will to become a hero first arrived, a sort of passionate drive that crashed into my life so unexpectedly that the impact nearly gave me whiplash.
I supposed that that inferno of, what? Spite? No, not spite, something deeper, hotter, and more righteous than spite. Let’s say ardor. This ardor was what drove me to take out as many robots as I could, despite the fact that my quirk was utterly useless in this situation. I took out a decent amount of robots, at least, decent enough to get into the hero course. A lady by the name of Recovery Girl healed me before I went on my way. I thought that I just had a few scrapes and bruises, but apparently I had a broken wrist. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the worst-off there, some poor kid broke both of his arms and one of his legs.
The time between this moment and when I got into UA seems to have flown by. I came into UA, a semi-blank canvas, and now here I was, bleeding out on the campsite that I planned to spend my summer at with my classmates. Dying feels far less painful than one would assume; you really don’t even realize that you’re dying at first. It’s sort of like that feeling you get after eating a warm meal after starving for so long, sickening at first, but comforting after you grow used to it. It’s like taking a hot bath after spending a day in the snow; it burns at first, but the burning subsides into a comforting numbness. Your senses slowly dull into nothingness but your brain is left to conjure whatever image it pleases. I could have seen dead relatives, met idols, or even pictured an alternate life where my parents still loved me, but I didn’t.
I didn’t want it. Fame, fortune, admiration, acceptance, rebirth, none of it. I wanted none of it. I wanted to live. I wanted to do what I swore to do as soon as I got into UA. I wanted what I signed up for when I packed my bags and left my parents’ house at age fourteen. I wanted what I fought tooth and nail for. I wanted my ambitions and goals fulfilled.
Of course I wanted what I had worked for, that was beyond obvious, however, I also wanted the small things in life. I wanted my afternoon tea with Yaoyorozu, Sato, and Todoroki. I wanted my fashion shows with Aoyama, Ashido, and Hagakure. I wanted my midnight conversations with Shinsou and Tokoyami. I wanted my video game sessions with Kaminari and Sero. I wanted my morning meditation meetings with Shoji, Ojiro, and Koda. I wanted to watch pro-wrestling with Bakugou and Kirishima. I wanted to train with Iida, Uraraka, and Midoriya. I wanted to swim with Asui. I wanted to listen to music with Jiro and Mr. Present Mic. I wanted inappropriate jokes with Ms. Midnight. I wanted to make Mr. Aizawa proud; I wanted to make myself proud. So, with so many incredible things to live for, I opened my eyes, and attempted to move.
Much to my distaste, it turns out that my relief from pain, as well as the disassociation from my body was nothing more than a thin veil that was easily permeated as I rose from near death. The forest was nothing more than a verdant blur, one that was far from easy to navigate. However, all things end eventually, so I decided to run from death and wherever I ended up would be the least of my worries. I sprinted through the disorder and dysfunction, and wound up walking in on my teacher fighting the son of a bitch who had left me to die a lonely death with only the company of insects and whatever plants were to take over my wilting corpse.
As Mr. Aizawa tackled the cremation villain, I rose from the forest, stared at the man in restraints, and activated my quirk. As the pain transferred from me to him, I felt the veil of insensibility slip over me once more. The villain howled out in agony, the very agony that he had inflicted on me only minutes before.
“Whatever you do, don’t break your gaze Eraserhead!” I chimed as I finally straightened my form, not wanting the hero to see me in such a state, “You’ll just have to trust me on this one!” Mr. Aizawa nodded, keeping a steady gaze on his target.
“Tried to kill me off?” I snarled as I made my way towards the sadistic bastard and beloved teacher holding him in place.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” the captive growled through gritted teeth, still under an amount of pain that would knock-out any average human. He looked beyond pissed that I survived, as if he took offense to the fact that I didn’t appreciate his work. I waltzed over to him, just far enough from Mr. Aizawa, but just close enough to the charred villain.
“Surprise, I remain,” I cooed, low enough for only the villain to hear. He bared his teeth at me, looking at me as if he were some sort of rabid animal. I wanted to taunt him. I wanted to make fun of the fact that he had been taken down by a high schooler and their teacher, but I knew that it was never good to brag, because Karma would usually come to bite you in the ass for it.
I stared at the man covered in staples, every blink I took releasing him from the effects of my quirk. Every blink motivated me to continue staring at him, to immobilize him so Mr. Aizawa could use his eye drops or blink, to buy him some time. However, I knew that this game of “pass the villain” could only go on for so long. Something had to be done. Eventually, the patchwork villain would catch both of us off guard and use his quirk, or one of his buddies would come and back him up. Mr. Aizawa and I were miles away from my peers or the rest of the pro-heroes. It was just the two of us up against this villain, and we were growing tired.
Only minutes after the realization had struck me, the villain escaped from Mr. Aizawa’s scarf when the two of us accidentally blinked at the same time. The human crematorium stood before us, and before I could use my quirk to disable him, he shot out a flurry of blue flames my way.
I dodged this attack as Mr. Aizawa ran towards the villain, yelling out the name “Dabi.” Before Mr. Aizawa was able to restrain him, Dabi grabbed the erasure hero and threw him headfirst into a brick wall, effectively knocking him out. I desperately wanted to check on my partner in battle, but I knew that I couldn’t let my guard down, because now Dabi was staring me directly in the eye.
I could attempt to charge at him, but I would be charred to bits, and even if I somehow managed to avoid his flames, I would meet the same fate as Eraserhead, knocked out and at Dabi’s mercy. I was screwed, I had no back up, my teacher was unconscious, and I was face to face with one of Japan’s most notorious criminals. I was dead meat.
That was until I devised a plan, one that would take out the cremation villain for good. One that would end his reign of terror once and for all. However, there was only one downside to this plan, and that was the fact that this plan would result in two casualties, Dabi and me. However, if I went with any other plan, Mr. Aizawa and I were to become the victims while Dabi walked off scot free.
I was destined to become a martyr.
With that realization, I turned to my teacher who was slowly coming to his senses and gave him a gentle smile,
“Eraserhead, it has truly been a pleasure,” I announced as Dabi’s arrogant gaze turned to one of confusion. As Mr. Aizawa slowly faded back into his previously comatose state before he had time to be confused, I focused my gaze back on the blue-flamed bastard. It was time to end it, to end his rule once and for all.
I reached into my pocket, grabbed a tiny weapon that fit perfectly in my hand, locked eyes with the villain, smirked, and painlessly slit my neck. As Dabi grasped his neck and choked on his unseen blood, which was truly my blood, he fell to his knees.
As I took what I knew were my last steps, I came face to face with the first half to my murder-suicide. He glared at me, an amalgam of agony that felt nothing at all, and snarled.
“I’ll see you in hell, you cunt.”
I laughed, of all the things he could’ve chosen to be his final words, he chose to give into the childish desire to have the last word with me. As his oddly-familiar eyes drained of life, I felt the pain I had so carelessly inflicted upon myself finally hit me like a freight train.
I began to choke as I fell to my knees, similarly to how Dabi had fallen only seconds before. I knew that my time was up soon, I would succumb to my injuries and lose the thing I had fought tooth and nail for only moments before. I looked to the horizon to find the sun casting his loving gaze upon my battered body. It was as if Apollo himself was granting me a warrior’s death, like he knew I had made some kind of a righteous sacrifice that warranted a soothing transition from death to afterlife.
The sunrise was something like I had never seen before. The blues burned brighter than the flames I had defeated minutes before, the yellow pooled around my weary being like an evening gown to a death dance, and the red painted a comforting scene in the clouds, as if to distract me from my own red that painted my body and the ground around me. I smiled my final smile as I walked into the loving embrace of the sun.
My duty as a hero had been fulfilled.
#shouta aizawa#mr aizawa#eraserhead#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha#dadzawa#dadzawa x reader#aizawa#aizawa fanfiction#eraserhead fanfiction#dadzawa angst#aizawa angst#mr aizawa angst#shouta aizawa angst#eraserhead angst#mha angst#my hero academia angst#bnha angst#boku no hero academia angst#mha fanfiction#my hero academia fanfiction#boku no hero academia fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#shouta aizawa fanfiction#mr aizawa fanfiction#dadzawa fanfiction
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𝕯𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈 (Dragon! Bakugo x Reader)
【ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：(Y/N) (L/N) lives a surprisingly domestic life alongside her husband, the powerful hot-headed dragon Katsuki Bakugo.】
【ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Dragon! Katsuki Bakugo x Female! Reader】
【ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG-13 — All characters featured in this story have been aged up over eighteen. Also, there is gore and blood in this, so if you are upset by that this isn’t for you.】
【ｗｏｒｄ ｃｏｕｎｔ：2.6k 】
【Ｎｅｘｔ Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ: Part 2】
(Y/N)’s hands kneaded soft, fluffy, pale dough on a stone counter top fitted in smooth grey stone, the flour falling like snow on her pale beige apron. Her mind wandered with the routine task; make the bread, let it rise, and then bake for one hour—she had done it all before.
Grabbing a nearby bread pan, she eased the freshly kneaded dough into the oak wood bowl. Her hands wiping the bits and pieces of stray batter on the fabric apron tied tightly around her waist. Once she had cleaned them in a nearby water basin, she laid a tea towel over the mouth of the bowl to rise for a few hours.
‘Finally, done. I can take a minute to relax.’ The woman thought to herself, untying the nice bow created by the laces of her apron. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get back early.’
Hanging the apron on a nearby hook near the entrance to the makeshift kitchen, she stretched her arms high over her head. Her neck muscles protested angrily as they were strained, but she smiled at the relief shooting across her form.
She looked around the kitchen, her (E/C) eyes scanning the beaten stone counter tops, the haphazardly hanging plants from the ceiling, and scratched wooden shelves for any sign of misplacement or grime. The rocky interior walls casted dancing shadows from the many flickering candles around the room.
Satisfied with her keen observation, she hummed to herself contently. Her feet spinning on their heels as she walked out of the kitchen, making a mental note to light the slab, stone oven afterward.
The kitchen lead into a larger room, large wooden support beams held up the ceiling in every corner. There was a large rounded bed pressed against the wall to her left, large furs and pelts were piled in a heap on the bed. On the farthest wall led a corridor where bright sunlight streamed through from the outside—a stairway could be seen in the corridor leading into a dimly lid spiral down.
(Y/N) noted a few of the candles had blown out in the room, presumably the breeze from outside had extinguished the weak flames. She sighed to herself, straightening out her white blouse and suspenders while she moved to a small table across from the bed.
A small green book embroidered with gold detailing waited for her on the scratched dark wood of the table. Her hands picking up the book she seated herself on one of the chairs, but she soon felt herself falling back onto the cold ground with a painful thud.
(Y/N) groaned, holding the side of her head carefully as the world spun around her in a warm blur. Her eyes managing to focus on the chair who had spitefully broken under her the moment she sat down.
“For fucks sake, of course.” She cursed under her breath, using her elbows to hoist herself up from her spot on the floor. Her hand searching for the book that had been flung from her hand, finding it a few feet away.
Looking at the chair, one of the legs had given out and the scratched up, claw-marked, and singed wood wasn’t able to hold weight any longer. It was a wonder how it didn’t break sooner.
“Fucker almost killed me.” (Y/N) voiced allowed to no one in particular, the stabbing pain in her head not receding and only increasing as she pushed herself to standing.
‘I really need to find other furniture that the ones he steals from his raids. A new set of chairs is something I’d pay money for.’ She thought to herself, running a through her hair and picking out pieces of dirt and splinters from her (H/C) locks.
A large roar shook the entire inside of the cave, the forceful vibration almost sending (Y/N) tumbling once again. The book nearly falling from her grasp, but this time she clenched it tightly in her fingers. The sound of scraping stone echoed wildly in (Y/N)’s ears, her face scrunching up at the unpleasant sound.
Her hand was quickly placed on the rocky wall beside her, watching the furniture, that had been fashioned to the wall with wires, to make sure nothing broke. ‘That bastard just had to come now.’
“Tiny! Where the fuck are you? I’m back if you hadn’t noticed.” The loud booming voice emanated from the corridor, the pissed of tone making (Y/N) roll her eyes. She scrambled to the doorway of the kitchen, her book forgotten on the table, and she checked to make sure the bread bowl hadn’t fallen off the counter—luckily, it hadn’t.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, you impatient bastard wait one minute!” (Y/N) called back to the voice, her eye brows narrowing as she noticed the plates and bowls that had fallen from their wooden shelves.
“Whaa? You calling me a bastard, you better watch your fucking mouth, human.” The voice responded sourly, the unmistakable growl that edged it’s way into the tone making (Y/N) chuckle lightly to herself.
She walked toward the corridor of the room, noting that most of the candles has blown out in the rumbling. The rocky hallway was rather small and led into a larger cave with a ceiling that stretched meters above her head. There were no stalactites, like they had been broken off purposely.
Sunlight streamed into the large cave from outside, giving it enough natural light to see around without any aid of candles or lanterns. In the corner of the cave sitting with his legs crossed, his hands tearing at the meat of a freshly killed deer, was Bakugo.
(Y/N) rubbed the back of her neck in defeat, seeing the blood already beginning to pool around the carcass of the poor animal.
“I’m here and already, you’ve made a mess.” She commented in disgust, walking over to the man as he turned around to face her—lips and cheeks smeared with thick red blood.
Bakugo swallowed the meat in his mouth, the hind leg of the deer had been ripped off the animal and was being held in his hands.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a fucking clean freak.” He retorted, his mouth opening and taking a large squelching bite of the raw meat. “Only humans would worry about shit like this.”
(Y/N) hummed, rolling her eyes as she scanned him up and down—he would definitely need a bath after he was done his “meal.” The blood soaked into his pants and the beautiful white fur of his long red cloak around his shoulders. The red sticky ooze seeped over his toned, muscled body.
“If you’re eating all of it, just give me tender loins to cook please.” (Y/N) sighed defeatedly, the smell of raw bloody meat hitting her nostrils in an unrelenting attack of metal and gore.
“You humans and your risk of worms.” He grumbled under his breath, his hand reached toward the back of the deer and shoved his hand into the back—through the pelt. (Y/N) winced at the sound of his hand pulling out the two strips of meat, his other hand shoving another mouthful of meat into his mouth. No matter how much (Y/N) has seen him rip flesh from bone, it still made her nauseous sometimes.
“You’re looking green, Tiny. Go back inside, if you’re going to vomit your insides out again.” Bakugo said, his crimson eyes scanning up and down (Y/N)’s pale face. His hand threw over the two pieces of tenderloin, the meat landing on the ground with a splat.
(Y/N) nodded her head silently, crouching down and delicately picking up the strips of deer. The blood was still warm in her palms and she groaned at the thought of getting the red stains on her nice blouse.
“If any of this gets on my shirt, I’m slipping laxative in your water.” (Y/N) threatened, hurrying toward the corridor once again and she heard the outraged exclamation of Bakugo behind her.
“You better not, fucking tiny ass human. I will rip your precious books to smithereens.” Bakugo shouted after her with a growl, the woman rolling her eyes around her skull in response.
“Okay, dragon boy, let’s see you fucking try. I’ll bleach your cape pink.” (Y/N) jabbed back, calling over her shoulder at Bakugo who continued to munch on the meat. She could hear him grumbling curses under his breath and she giggled softly to herself.
(Y/N) hurried through the corridor, through the room, and into the kitchen. She could see a drop of blood preparing to fall onto the floor she zoomed toward a clean bucket and dropped the meat into it. Her palms leaned on the counter for support, for some reason the smell of the fresh meat made her feel sick to her stomach.
She sharpened a knife and began trimming the meat on the counter. It wasn’t long after she heard Bakugo come stomping through the corridor and she leaned out of the door to see the muddy tracks behind him.
“Clean your shoes off next time, I swear you lived in a barn.” (Y/N) called out, her lips frowned at the sight of the freshly mopped floors being covered in brown muck. Bakugo paused, turning around to look at the mud he was dragging through the room before he smirked deviously.
“I was raised in a cave.” He said, continuing to stride toward (Y/N) with an evil glint in his eye and her frown turned down into a scowl. “What’s wrong, Tiny? You’re looking a little pissed off.”
(Y/N) sighed and shook her head, looking at the blood still wet on his body.
“Don’t take another step, clean off the blood. We have bathing pools for a reason, dipshit.” (Y/N) demanded, pointing her sharpened bloody knife toward him. Bakugo faltered for a moment, a dangerous frown forming on his face.
“I’m not fucking that filthy. I washed yesterday, just like you asked, remember?” Bakugo retorted, his arms crossing over his chest. (Y/N) hummed at his rather adorable expression and continued flaying the strips of white fat from the meat.
“You’re covered in blood, Katsuki Bakugo, and that means your washing.” (Y/N) said, her eyes glanced down where she was happy to see that her work was pretty much finished.
Bakugo rolled his eyes and grumbled his way back toward the corridor, she was pretty sure she heard a imitation of her own voice. She simply giggled and packaged the meat in parchment paper to save for stew later and dropped any dirty dishes in the sink-bucket.
He returned a few minutes later, dripping wet and clothes in his arms. Bakugo wasn’t wearing a thing and (Y/N) noticed right away, her face turning a lovely shade of rose red.
“Okay! That’s- No clothes- Your other shirts are in the dresser!” (Y/N) said, looking away from the spectacle of a naked Bakugo. She heard his footsteps approach her and felt strong arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her snugly against him.
“I’ll get changed later.” He muttered against her skin, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin of her neck. “Nothing happened while I was gone?” (Y/N) was frozen in her spot, the feeling of the water dampening in her back, and her face flushing with a beautiful color of red.
“N-Nothing, the den’s been quiet as ever.” (Y/N) answered, her voice stuttering at the beginning but she managed to focus on the cutting board in front of her. “No one’s touched your precious gold horde.”
Bakugo hummed, his chin resting on top of her head, and he snuggled his face into her hair. His hands wandered about her waist, his toned chest pressing against the small of her back.
“I wasn’t worried about the gold.” He muttered quietly, the growl at the end of his voice made (Y/N)’s arms explode in goose bumps. “You smell different, tiny. Did you use the milk soap you bought a while ago?”
She paused for a moment.
“No? My smell changed?” (Y/N) asked, she had never really gotten used to the draconic abilities of her husband. Bakugo nipped at her earlobe absentmindedly, he’d always held this animalistic quality that he brought everywhere in their relationship.
“Your cinnamon smell is just different, alright? It smells like milk mixed with cinnamon.” Bakugo said, his eyes watched her hands move rhythmically as she finished up ridding the meat of any fatty tissue.
“I still don’t know why you humans are so picky.” Bakugo scoffed, shaking his head as let go of her waist and walked out of the kitchen in order to hopefully put some pants on.
“The fatty parts make the meat chewy.” (Y/N) said honestly, her eyes glanced over to Bakugo’s form but she refused to look for long—the blazing warmth in her cheeks forcing her too.
The conversation continued for awhile, (Y/N) was busily hurrying around the kitchen and chopping vegetables for the stew. Bakugo was making himself useful and watching her whisking around the kitchen from his spot sitting on one of the counters.
The stew shimmered on top of the stone oven, the bread was baking in the rocky blazing insides happily. The smell permeated the air and the warm smell making (Y/N) sigh contentedly.
“Shitty hair and pink bitch want to come over for dinner, they want to taste human cooking.” Bakugo started, the subjects of his yapping changed like the wind—it could go from hating Midoriya, to how great he is, or how he caught the deer earlier.
“Of course, I said no-”
“Why don’t you invite them over? They haven’t been over since fall, the winter’s been tough on them.” (Y/N) said, stirring the stew in the pot and sprinkling in a few herbs and spices into the shimmering pot. Bakugo scoffed.
“Hell no! They’re messier than me. That shitty hair is really fucking annoying.” He retorted, his posture straightened to a stiff board, and he muttered quietly under his breath. “He’s always touching you.”
“What is it with you dragons? Always so overprotective of your ‘mates.’“ (Y/N) sighed, looking toward her husband who huffed and shoved himself off of the counter. His shimmering ruby eyes glaring darkly in her direction, stalking over to her.
“Mates are a big fucking deal, tiny, I’ve told you this before.” (Y/N) nodded her head, her lack of listening made Bakugo snatched her wrist and pulled her roughly against his body.
“Dragons mate forever. You are mine, forever, you fucking idiot.” He growled, her smaller body was pressed flush against his. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his serious tone, he usually wasn’t this sentimental and she expected a scoff from him instead.
Her heart fluttered in het chest, a large smile crossing her features
“I understand, Katsuki.” (Y/N) simply said, embracing her husband close to her and enjoyed the peaceful moments that followed. Two years ago, she didn’t expect to find herself here and married to the dragon that had quite rudely crashed through her house—hurting himself in the process.
For months, she nursed him back to health and somehow managed to love him in that time. Now, there they are, two years later and married. If (Y/N)’s younger self had a conversation with older (Y/N), she was sure that younger her would call her insane.
“I love you, dragon boy.” She said softly, her hand running through his spikey blond hair. Bakugo huffed and he laughed cockily.
“Who doesn’t love me?” A swift jab to the ribs made him cough and he nipped at her neck in retaliation. “Heh, I love you, tiny human.”
#my hero academia#mha#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha x reader#bnha katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugo#bnha bakugo x reader#bnha katsuki bakugo#bnha katsuki bakugo x reader#mha katsuki#mha bakugo x reader#mha bakugo#mha bakugo katsuki#bnha fantasy au#mha fantasy au#au#fanfiction au#bakugo x reader#oneshot
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Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2
A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do
🐰 Read Part One Here
Summary: Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you.
You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.
-
Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty.
The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.
You really did try to focus on the good.
But the pain was blinding.
“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.
He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.
If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.
You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.
What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.
Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.
The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding.
Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.
You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.
“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.
You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.
“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”
The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.
“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”
And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.
Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.
“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work.
You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.
“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back.
Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.
“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.
More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.
A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.
“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.”
With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.
You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!”
In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.
“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.
The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.
“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!”
That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience.
That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.
Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books.
Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.
Sleep would probably elude you tonight.
Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.
Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window.
You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.
Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.
“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”
You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.
“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.”
He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.
“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”
You laughed a little too loudly.
“Just my luck,” you shot back.
Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.
“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”
The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly.
Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill.
It was a glass bottle of dandelions.
It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.
They looked like sunshine.
“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.
Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.
“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”
That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.
Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.
You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.
Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.
At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers.
Though, today was a little different.
Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.
“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands.
You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words.
The irony tasted so sweet.
Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.
He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.
You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.
“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.”
Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself.
“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.
He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?”
You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions.
“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.
You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.
“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”
Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.
“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.
It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving.
Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been.
Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.
No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.
“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.
You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them.
Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.
“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”
Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.
Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.
“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.
You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.
You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”
Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.
You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.
“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”
The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.
“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.
No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.
Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.
“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. “I knew you’d come around.”
The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.
“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.
Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house.
You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.
Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans.
It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.
It was hers now; it had been since that day.
As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.
He was too damn old for this.
The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.
Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.
Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.
Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.
But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.
But once he did, you beckoned him over.
Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.
“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.
They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.
Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.
“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.
-
tags: @browneyes528 @phoenixblack89 @srhxpci @jodiereedus22 @witch-of-letters @deadthewalking
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon fanfic#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#twd#twd fanfic#twd fanfiction#norman reedus#norman reedus fanfiction#norman reedus fanfic
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Sex on Fire - 3
Co-written with @radaofrivia
Characters: AU Captain Syverson - Gynaecologist, dr. Syverson x female reader
Word count: 7.601
Warnings: NSFW! Overthinking. Talking to a dog. Flirting. Nervous energy. A little awkwardness. Smut. 69. Making love. Love. Fluff. The end.
Author’s note: This story was co-written with the lovely @radaofrivia - who wrote the beautiful smutty parts.
The dividers are made by @firefly-graphics
This story is dedicated to all the women who struggle with pain. It doesn’t matter where that pain is, but know that you are not alone.
Please go enjoy her stories here:
Rada’s Masterlist
I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.
MY MASTERLIST
Sex on Fire Masterlist
Feedback is appreciated.
“What have I gotten myself into?
You stood in front of the mirror, having changed into the fifth dress, but nothing you had tried on was good enough for a date with the hottest doctor in town. A loud groan left your lips, making your sister peek inside your room.
“Everything alright in here?” she asked, looking over the room. Clothes were spread everywhere, shoes thrown all over, and you pacing in front of the closet, desperately trying to find something fitting to wear. “Looks like a tornado went through.”
“I have nothing to wear! So please, either come help me or get out,” you snapped. You heard the angry tone in your voice and turned around to face your younger sister, who looked mildly annoyed at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch.”
“Care to tell me what’s going on? I thought you were excited to go out with the dashing doctor?” She asked and went to sit on the only available space on the bed.
You picked up the five discarded pieces of clothing.
“This,” you held up the first dress, “is too short. He’ll think I’m a whore.”
“Then wear leggings underneath it. Do I need to remind you, sissy, that he has already seen you butt-naked?”
You glared at your sister, feeling she didn’t understand your situation that this date had to be perfect.
What if our attraction was a fluke?
“This,” you showed the second dress, “is too long. He’ll think I’m a prude.”
“Then cut it to the right length.”
What if he thinks I was an easy prey? I was. I practically begged him to fuck me. Fuck!
You were starting to sweat as you held up the third dress.
“This shows too much cleavage. He’ll think I’m trying to seduce the entire restaurant.”
“Wear a shirt under it.”
What if he isn’t taking me to a restaurant? What if we’re going to his place?
You kept rambling about the fourth and fifth dress, and your sister retorted with solutions to each of them.
“Sissy, your thoughts are so loud I think even he can hear them.”
You threw a dress in her face.
“You’re thinking of every possibility that this could go wrong, aren’t you?”
“No…” you mumbled, but a good death stare from your sister made you change your mind from lying, “Yes, I’m scared, Pat. What if he isn’t the man he made me believe he is? What if he’s a serial killer disguised as a vaginal doctor? What if he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing? What if I’m walking right into grandma’s house and get eaten by the big bad wolf?”
“Stop, stop, you’re making no sense whatsoever…”
“And what if he doesn’t like me? What if we don’t have any chemistry? What if… oh my god, what if he only wants me as a fuck-buddy?”
You were pacing around your room, walking through the clothes, kicking the shoes away from your wandering path. Your sister grabbed your wrist and pulled you down on the bed.
“You are overthinking,” she booped your nose, “You are a gorgeous human being, very pretty too, if I have to say so myself. If he was only going to have you as his fuck-buddy, then you either say yes, because God knows you need a good fuck, or you say no because you’re looking for something deeper. And he wouldn’t have asked you on a date if he wasn’t into you! Take a deep breath with me.”
You both inhaled and exhaled, again and again, until your heartbeat wasn’t about to gallop right out of your chest.
“Now that you’re nice and calm… eh, ish, let’s put on some music and get you ready for your date. I have the perfect dress for you to wear tonight, just promise not to spill wine on it.”
Lucas walked out of the steaming shower, wrapping a large fluffy towel around his hips. His dog, a German Shepherd, was lying on the carpeted bedroom floor by the door. Her brown eyes were staring at him intensely like she knew that he was going somewhere.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Aika. And I promise to bring your favourite treat from the restaurant,” he told the dog. Mention of the treat perked her ears up.
Sy chuckled as he started grooming his beard. Then a light went off in his mind.
Fuck, what if she doesn’t like dogs?
He looked apologetically at Aika, who was drooling on the carpet, already tasting the treat on her palate.
Lucas finished in the bathroom and went to his spacious walk-in closet.
“What should I wear, girl?” He asked as if Aika knew what was hot in fashion. She walked over to where he hung his trousers, sniffed a few before picking a grey pair down from the hanger. She then managed to trot over to him with a pair of brown leather shoes.
“Well, thanks, girl, these are perfect. So what do you think, a white shirt or a black shirt?” Sy held each piece up to Aika, and she barked happily at the white shirt, her tail wagging excitedly. The dashing doctor also chose a matching grey suit jacket. He looked himself over in the mirror.
“I really want this to work, Aika,” he mumbled to his dog, who cocked her head to the side. “I think she’s amazing, and I hope she likes dogs because if not, I would be really sad… to say goodbye to you.”
Aika growled at him, making Sy laugh out loud.
“Sorry girl, I’m just kidding, I’m kidding. You belong with me, forever and always,” he scratched her belly. “What do I do if I make an ass out of myself?”
Aika rolled around and let out a loud ‘woof’ as if she was saying that he should just be himself.
“Okay, I’ll do my best. But what if she’s not who I think she is? What do I do then?”
Aika let out a deep rumble from her chest. I’ll bite her sorry ass if she isn’t.
You walked down the pavement looking for the restaurant Sy had texted you the address of. Sy was standing out front, waiting for you, he looked so handsome in his grey suit, and now you felt you might have been under-dressed. His face lit up in a warm grin, and his eyebrows arched when he saw you moving towards him. You smiled shyly back.
As Sy leaned down to kiss her cheek, you were going for his lips, ending in an awkward angled greeting.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you whispered at the same time he said: “Sorry!”
You stood there, looking down on the pavement, red-faced and suddenly very shy, not knowing what to do next while he was staring at you, not being able to take his eyes off you.
Lucas chuckled and presented his arm.
“Shall we go in?”
He was smiling at you, trying his best not to make your encounter awkward. You took his arm and was led into the restaurant. You looked around at the warm and comfortable atmosphere of the room. Chinese lanterns were hanging down from the loft, casting a soft light over space. The wooden tables had an induction heating plate for the hotpot that could contain either one, two or four different soups. The couple were seated near the covered fishing pond that was placed in the middle of the restaurant, a glass wall surrounding the pond, so no one could fall and get wet. The koi fish were swimming around, showing off their orange, red, white, and black scales. It was a soothing and calming sight and helped you relax in the presence of the handsome doctor.
A waitress came to take your drink orders while you looked through the menu.
“Oh, I don’t know what goes well with anything here,” you said, suddenly feeling so out of place.
“May I suggest one of their beers? They’re really good,” Lucas smiled at you warmly as he gave his drink order. You ordered one of their light and refreshing beers.
You looked down at the menu again. Not knowing what to pick as everything sounded delicious.
“There’s so much food,” you commented with a giggle.
“Do you want to try one of their special menus? That way, you can try a little of everything,” Sy suggested.
“I’d like that.”
The waitress came back with their drinks, and Sy rambled away your order. He ordered the four soup hot pot, various meats, seafood, vegetables, and an enormous amount of different types of noodles.
“How did you come by this place?” You asked, taking a sip of beer.
“I was walking around the neighbourhood one day with my sisters, and one of them wanted dumplings, another some noodles, and the third wanted some soup. I searched for a restaurant that had all three things, and this place popped up. It has become my favourite restaurant in the entire city,” he was a vivid storyteller that doctor.
“You brought me to your favourite restaurant?”
“Well, yes. I know it’s not the most traditional place to have a first date, but the food is amazing,” a pink blush crept up his neck and reached his cheeks.
“I think it’s the perfect place for a first date. I like trying new things,” you assured him, watching as a boyish grin of pride spread on his lips. God, how you wanted to kiss those lips.
“I hope you mean that because here comes the food,” Sy nodded towards the three waiters walking with an extra table full of food and the pot filled with the four soups.
“Oh dear,” you watched as they set the plates full of meat around you. “Are we feeding an army?”
“Trust me, darling, this might not be enough when we first get started,” Sy smiled. He reached for his chopsticks, “Have you eaten with chopsticks before?”
You gasped, pretending to be offended.
“I will let you know, doctor, that I was trained by the best to eat with chopsticks,” you showed him your hold, “My sister loves to get Chinese takeout when none of us feels like cooking, and there’s a restaurant that makes the best potstickers and chow mein.”
“Maybe we can order from there one day,” Sy suggested, his voice soft and full of promises.
“I’d like that. So, how do we do this?” you asked.
Lucas told you about the four different soups. They ranked from not-so-spicy to hell’s gate spicy. He talked about all the different cuts of meat, how to just put the ingredients in the soup, advising that you put in the lotus root first as it took a long time to cook.
While the doctor was talking, you were watching him. Your sole focus was on the way his lips moved and his tongue darting out from time to time. That tongue, that godly tongue.
His voice was rich and deep, so smooth and velvety you wanted to hear him talk forever. He caught you ogling at him.
“Everything alright?” he asked, looking a bit confused.
“Yeah, I was just thinking how amazing you look out of your white coat,” you blurted, making Sy laugh and blush an even deeper shade of pink before turning red.
“Why thank you, but I think the real showstopper tonight is you. You look beautiful,” he complimented.
“You’re just saying that because I complimented you first,” you giggled like a teenage schoolgirl with a crush.
Sy shook his head as he reached for the pieces of meat he had put in the soups. He picked one out and moved the chopsticks closer to your mouth.
“Try this,” he recommended. You closed your mouth around the chopsticks, letting the meat fall on your tongue. The sweet umami flavour of the pork was melting in your mouth, and you let out a soft moan.
Lucas was watching your mouth closely. The mouth that had been sucking him off a few days earlier in his office. The pretty mouth that swallowed his seed. His pants were suddenly feeling very snug around his groin area. Fuck, not now!
Thankfully his horny thoughts were interrupted by your suggestion.
“My turn to feed you,” you dove into the spiciest soup and picked out a dumpling. Why does he look so good? Lord, what is he thinking? Why is he looking at me like that? Something on my face?
Your hand was shaking a bit as you leaned over to give the dumpling to Sy, and then you dropped it, watching in slow motion as gravity did its thing, making the dumpling land on Lucas’ crisp white shirt and then down to his lap it went.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed. You quickly stood with your napkin and went over to clean the mess you had made. Lucas had picked up the fallen dumpling, not even thinking about the stain the red soup had made. He was having sinful thoughts of you sitting on your knees trying to wash off the red colour with your napkin.
“I ruined your shirt,” you sighed as the stain became worse, and it started to spread the more you rubbed the fabric.
“You’ve made it a habit to ruin my clothes, sunshine,” Lucas chuckled, but his laughter died quickly as you dabbed the napkin on his thigh, moving closer to the hard-on he was willing to go soft, but too late.
Oh, ooooooh.
“Maybe I don’t like that they’re hiding what nature has so gracefully given you,” you smirk up at him, giving him a sultry look.
Lucas swallowed hard. You could see his throat tensing as his Adam's apple bopped up and down. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, trying his best to restrain himself from taking you right then and there.
“God, I love your boldness,” his voice was low, soft, almost velvety, as if he was trying to tell you with the tone of his voice alone how much he wanted you. The smoothness of his voice was sending shivers down your spine, and some part of your brain was signalling that now was the time for you to attack him, rip his clothes off, ride him right there in the chair, not even caring about the people around you.
“Is everything okay?” A waitress asked, interrupting the moment. You snapped out of your lust-filled haze and went back to your chair. Sy coughed, masking his even dirtier thoughts.
“Yes, everything is good. The food is amazing. Can we get two shots of baijiu?” he asked, suddenly in need of something strong to stay put during dinner.
The waitress came back with the shots. Lucas held up his glass.
“Cheers,” he said and downed the clear liquid in one go, but you took a small sip.
“Oh shit, it’s burning my throat,” you gasped, putting the shot down.
“Believe me, you’re going to need all of it until we’ve finished eating,” Sy hinted at something more.
You inhaled the shot, letting the fire spread throughout your chest all the way down to your thighs and throbbing core. Your brain was slowly getting fuzzier, giving you the courage to ask him what had been on your mind since he asked you on the date.
“What are we, doctor?” You blurted, not thinking about how loud you actually were. You continued as you watched confusion spread on his handsome face: “What are you looking for in a partner? Are we going to be a no-strings-attached kind of thing? Casual hookup?”
You stopped and took a deep breath, waiting for his answer. You watched his lips, trying to avoid his eyes. If he wanted a ‘friends with benefits’-relationship, you would be devastated.
“There’s nothing casual about you, buttercup,” Sy was surprised by what you had just told him. He couldn’t deny the connection there was between the two of you. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt it deep in his guts that there was something more, and he wanted to be more for you. “I want to get to know you. I want to explore the deep connection that we have and see where it leads us. What about you? What are you looking for?”
“I… I want that too. Because to me, this. What we have is too good to be just an emotionless thing,” you started, “I feel safe around you, Lucas. I don’t know why, but I do. Do I make any sense? Because I feel like I’m just sitting here rambling…”
Lucas grabbed your hands across the table, avoiding the soups. He caressed the soft skin over your knuckles. His protective instinct was on overload, he wanted to protect you, and his heart was racing from hearing you say that you felt safe around him.
“You make sense to me, bug.”
Your first date had been perfect, so were the following dates afterwards. Lucas Syverson was the perfect gentleman and taken it like a champ when you had asked to take things slow, especially with you not knowing if it was still going to hurt when having sex. You wanted to have your ‘problem’ solved before you took that all-intimate next step with Sy. You built a beautiful relationship and a strong friendship from your attraction.
Lucas had invited you out for lunch one day. He asked about how it was going with the new gynaecologist he had recommended, a woman, as he wasn’t keen on knowing another man touching you in such an intimate place. You told him that you had been referred to a physiotherapist and was going to see a specialist in vaginal diseases.
With time you hurt less and less, and it was with the support from your sister and Sy that you continued the different treatments the doctors gave you. You stretched out muscles in your abdominal area. You used soap that was for intimate use only. You even started using an anaesthetic gel to relax the nerves in your vagina by Sy’s recommendation. You had cursed him all the way to hell the first time you’d used it, even as far as telling him that it burnt worse than the alcohol shot he made you drink at the Hot Pot restaurant. You were walking like you’d ridden a horse all day long until the burning stopped after a few minutes, and Sy had kept his laughter to himself, not wanting to hurt your feelings, but when you had started giggling from looking at yourself in the mirror, he couldn’t stop the roaring laughter either.
Sy was very helpful when you were exercising. He had made the stretching into a game of some sort. You might not be having sex, but you could still tease each other, orally or with your hands, anything to build intimacy between the two of you. He was determined to make the process sexy and fun, not dull and boring.
You asked him to penetrate you a few times but had to tell him to pull out because the pain became too intense. Sy was extremely understanding, and he helped you through the crying afterwards, as you felt that you were never going to heal again. He loved that you were comfortable enough around him to tell him to stop, and you felt so safe with him.
It became your goal not only to have sex but to be penetrated without the pain. And you would get there eventually. For now, you would just bask in the afterglow of a good make-out session with Lucas on the sofa.
You had always felt that there was a part of you missing, a vital part, and now, with Lucas, you felt whole. You couldn’t go a day without at least texting him, saying you missed him, or when you were together, and he went to the bathroom, you missed him. When you had to go home the following day after a night of cuddling, you missed him the minute you walked out the door. Both of you felt like you were addicted to the other. It was almost becoming an obsession.
Life with a boyfriend like Sy was amazing, incredible, fantastic. He was everything you needed without having known it. And Lucas loved to have someone he could take care of, protect and maybe even love. Sy had never felt this way about anyone before. It was a fantastic feeling to have this wonderful woman he could call his girlfriend. His.
Not only were you an extraordinary human being: you also loved animals just as much as he did. If you were allowed animals in the apartment you lived in with your sister, you would have filled it already. Sy had let out a breath of relief when you’d told him. You and Aika had become cuddle buddies whenever you were visiting Lucas. The German Shepherd would completely ignore Sy and follow you around instead, and Lucas was only happy to share his girl with his other girl. The sense of having found you excited him, completed him and made him so happy.
There are two kinds of tired: one that needs a good night's sleep and one that needs so much more. Lucas fell into the second category. He was both physically and mentally exhausted from a long and hard day at work, and he also had to face the guilt for ruining your plans for a quiet dinner.
“Plans are made to be changed,” you told him when he called you to cancel your dinner plans and suggest grabbing something to eat and spend the evening at his place instead.
"And I really like the sound of staying in and just cuddling with you, big bear," you whispered in your phone so your colleagues wouldn’t hear you.
"Big bear?"
"Yes, you're massive, hairy and just like a big cuddly teddy bear," finishing the phrase you noticed that one of your colleagues, Rita, was looking at you, chuckling at your big bear comment. You cleared your throat and with all the seriousness you could muster you told Sy: “I can’t talk right now. Call me when you get here,” and quickly ended the call, turning to her, “he’s an activist for the conservation of big brown bears.”
“Yeah, right,” she laughed. “Have fun with your bear-man, girl, you don’t need to explain yourself.” She winked at you and went about her work.
To your dismay, Lucas didn’t follow your instructions and decided that would be the day he showed his face to your work coming into the library to pick you up. He walked into the place, standing tall, his long strides and posture showing a sense of confidence and ease. He was as handsome as always, in his dress jacket, white shirt and jeans. Upon entering the library, he took off his sunglasses revealing his cobalt blue stare that made people stop in their tracks and this time was no different.
“Oh my God!” You heard your colleague gasping next to you when she laid eyes upon him. A small grin formed on your face to her reaction. You watched your man getting closer, noticing that his face looked tired, something only you would notice. The moment your eyes met a warm, sweet smile spread on his gorgeous lips, lighting up his face.
“Do they accept new members in the bear conservation club?” She asked not too loud, but loud enough for Sy to hear, who was standing right in front of you now. You blushed from embarrassment and broke eye contact with him. His soft laughter brought your eyes back on him.
"Sadly all positions have been filled up," he countered looking directly at you with a lopsided grin. “Ready to go home, sunshine?” You nodded excited, picking up your things quickly and moving on Lucas’ side, looping your arm around his offered elbow.
“Have a good evening, Rita,” you said giddily, looking back at her as she was fanning herself trying to cool off to the sight of Sy’s behind.
"What would you like to eat for dinner?" Sy asked as he opened the car door.
"You," you whispered silently.
In the shower, the water came down warm and soothing, washing the weariness and bad energy of the day off of Lucas’ body. He took some time for himself to relax and find his balance again. But the thought of you sitting on the other side of the wall made him impatient. He needed to be close to you.
Aika whimpered at you, licking your fingers and begging for another treat. You were lying on Sy’s bed, flipping through channels, nibbling at the leftovers of your Chinese takeout, with a comfortable, fluffy pillow behind you, soft and crisp sheets underneath you and Aika laying across your lap, sharing the guilty pleasure of eating in bed with you.
“Shhh, girl! Do you want him to hear us?” You whispered at her, feeding her another bite of the delicious potstickers you had for dinner. She gulped the treat and then licked your hand in gratitude. “Eating in bed is the best, right Aika?” You told her in a colluding way, scratching your accomplice behind her ears. You knew that Sy didn’t approve of eating in bed nor sharing food with Aika, so you both were on the lookout for when he would finish his shower. You didn’t want him to find out the ‘magic tricks’ you had used to gain Aika’s trust so fast.
The moment you heard Sy turning off the water, you both jumped up, Aika taking her usual place at the foot end of the bed acting all cool, and you ran to hide the evidence in the kitchen and wash your hands from the grease. In a minute, you were back in bed pretending you were watching TV. Of course, you had no idea what was on.
“What are my girls doing?” The bathroom door opened, and Sy came out with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He leaned lazily on the door frame, smiling in all his wet, half-naked glory, making you choke on your own drool. Quickly, you gathered yourself trying to sound as convincing as possible.
“Nothing special, just sitting here and relaxing.”
Sy walked across the room heading for his dresser that was on your side. Your eyes followed every move he made, studying even the tiniest dent and bump his muscles formed. At the view of his butt, a very unladylike sound escaped your throat.
‘Everything ok, sweetheart?” Lucas asked absentmindedly while looking for his underwear.
“Mh-mm,” you nodded, turning your eyes to the TV. There was a short pause after you heard him close the drawer.
“Babe, is there something you want to tell me?” You craned up your head to meet his eyes. His face was serious. The only thing that kept you from worrying was a small twitch of a smile on his lips. Oh, his lips.
“Huh? Like what?” You asked puzzled.
“I don't know, maybe you want to confess something?” Your mind started racing, a hundred thoughts per second: you are so hot, take off that towel, take me now, how lucky can a girl be, you are perfect, I love you. What? Where did that come from?
“Uhh, no. I don’t think so,” you mumbled trying to hide the instant blushing on your face.
“Don’t you think that trust and openness are important, darling?” He leaned over you, his hand running over your jaw. So busted! But how?
“Of course!” You gulped, readying yourself for the revelation.
“Then can you tell me, why are there crumbs on the bed, bug?”
“What?” That was not what you were expecting.
“Aika?” Sy turned to the German shepherd. She whimpered, hiding her snout in her paws and quickly left the room.
“Traitor,” you muttered.
“I thought we had an agreement on this,” Sy spoke softly, putting on his underwear and sweatpants and headed to his side of the bed.
“I want her to like me,” you confessed in a small, guilty voice.
Lying down, Lucas let a deep sigh out, finally being able to relax and cuddle with his girlfriend. He pulled you closer letting you rest your head on his shoulder.
“Baby, you don’t need to buy her off. I’m sure that Aika loved you the first moment she met you… just like her owner.” Sy’s voice drifted off as he started zoning out, feeling so relaxed in your arms. Your breath caught in your throat, gazing at him like you saw the sun for the first time after an eternity of darkness. You wanted to say so many things but couldn’t find the words to bring out of your head. The only thing you could utter was:
“Wrap your arms around me,” you felt the need to be close to him, lost in him.
“How’s that?” He murmured with his eyes closed.
“Perfect.” He brought his face in your hair, inhaling deeply from your scent.
“Mmmmm, you smell amazing.” This felt so right to him, holding you and being held. He tightened his arms around you. Being in his embrace felt so soothing, calming and safe to you, that you let out a soft purring sound.
“Did you just purr?” He opened his eyes, a huge grin forming on his face.
“No….”
“I think you did.”
“Uh-oh,” you said lazily, burying your face into his neck.
“Alright. But in case you did, I find it really cute.’’ He let you know in his deep, soft and gentle voice.
“I might have…” Your admission made you both dissolve into laughter allowing you to release all the pent up energy. Once out of your laughing fit, you were both left gazing into each other’s eyes. It was you who made the first move, bringing your hand on his cheeks, your fingers idly playing with the curls in his beard before you kissed him, slowly at first, lips tracing lips, becoming deeper, bolder and more intense as your tongues danced in a passionate rhythm. The moan that escaped his mouth when you finished the kiss, gently biting and tagging his lower lip set you on fire.
Sy felt he was on cloud nine. His head was spinning with giddy happiness. The way your body was moulded to fit him like a puzzle piece. His heart was galloping, his mind was going crazy, his feelings were all over the place with joy and love, he felt loved, so loved. But the minute you moved to sit in his lap, grinding against him as if you were riding a horse, his mind was transported to another place, only thinking about how good the friction between you felt, he wanted so bad to make love to you, to make you feel as good as you were doing to him at the moment.
He was still lost in your kiss, basking in your touch with his eyes closed as you kissed your way from his neck to his ear whispering:
“Baby, I think I'm ready.”
He opened his eyes, blinking lazily. At first, he didn’t understand what you were talking about. He looked straight into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed with question. You caressed his face softly, waiting for realisation to hit him. The smile on your face, the feeling in your eyes soon let him in on the meaning of your words. His heart had skipped a beat as he truly grasped your words. You saw the surprise register on his face, his breathing quickened, his lips parted ever so slightly, his hands stilling on the lower part of your back and a faint wrinkle showed between his eyebrows. And then immediately his short-lived surprise gave its place to happiness shining through his eyes, fueled with desire as the colour of his blue orbs turned to a dark navy ring around his full-blown pupils.
His arms wrapped around you and you felt him pulling you onto his chest. You could feel the urgency in his movements, there was raw emotion in the way his fingers curled around the fabric of your dress. He claimed your lips once again, kissing you deeply, absorbing every detail of the moment, your scent, the weight of your body against his, all the feelings that were washing over him, raising a wave of heat inside him.
The taste of him stripped you from all your thoughts, fears and senses. His kiss, hungry and intense, ignited a fire inside you. Your palms were flat on his chest, your fingers were trying to dig into his skin as if wanting to hold on for dear life before you let go of all inhibitions and get lost in him. His hands trailed down your neck, never releasing your mouth from the hot, wet kiss he had you captured. Your body reacted to his touch, sending shivers down your spine and making you moan. You brought your hands to his deep brown curls, carding your fingers through them, tugging at his roots, to feel a little bit of control as your sanity was in the balance of tipping over. The little pain that he experienced made him exude more lust, he loved how you took control, as he could unwind and let you loose.
With one strong arm around your waist, he gathered you up and moved you both to a sitting position, letting you sit astride his lap. His fingers dug into your hips and pulled you closer to him, pressing your core to his straining bulge. You couldn’t help but grind against him, letting your instinct take over. Your kissing grew more passionate, more urgent, muffled moans and gasps filling the room. Sy brought his hands on your breast, kneading the soft flesh over the light fabric of your sundress and realising that you had no bra on. A throaty noise escaped him as he broke the kiss, looking at you with blazing eyes.
“You had it planned all along, you little minx!” he growled, his thumbs tracing your perky nipples through the thin layer, weakening your core, making you lean your forehead against his for purchase. He could feel the warmth coming off your skin through the lite fabric, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to touch you, he wanted to see the delicate, subtle flesh of your breasts.
You could feel the feral animosity inside him, as you kept grinding your core to his groin. You had never seen him like this before. His hands were eager to touch more than just your dress. Before you could think about taking the dress off, it was ripped from your chest, the fierce action kicking the breath out of you. Buttons flew in every direction and landed on the soft carpeted floor.
“That was my favourite dress,” you said in a shuddering voice, watching him take in the image of your naked body like a starving beast.
“Payback time,” he snarled. He studied you, running a finger over your breastbone slowly down to your stomach, his eyes following the invisible trail his touch burnt on your skin. He left a wet kiss on your chest and licked his way to one of your nipples, taking it into his mouth, torturing it with his tongue and tugging it with his teeth making it even harder. Although his moves were slow, you could feel how aroused and ravenous he was, his breathing shallow and fast just like yours. You closed your eyes, burying your face in his hair, feeling him everywhere; his lips on your breasts, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your lower back, his erection stirring between your legs. His scent and taste defined your reality now.
Sliding your hand between your bodies and pressing firmly on his arousal made him growl like a wild animal against your skin. He looked up at you with lustful eyes ordering you to take off your clothes. The demand in his husky voice stole your breath for a second. He commanded and needed you at the same time. You stood up obediently, let the dress fall down to your ankles, slowly peeled off your panties down your legs and stepped out of them with small moves while watching him watching you.
You crawled back onto the bed languidly, wrapping your fingers at the waistband of his sweatpants, removing them slowly along with his black boxer briefs, revealing his throbbing manhood and his muscular thighs. He stared at your face through half-lidded eyes with desire, taking in how you ran your tongue over your lips at the sight of the glistening precum that oozed from the top of the head, showing your eagerness to taste him.
He pulled you against his body, holding you close, feeling the warmth of your body skin on skin, your breasts pressed into his chest and his erection straining against your body. His lips captured yours in a deep passionate kiss, owning your very existence.
“The things I wanna do to you, right now,” he moaned in your mouth, locking eyes with you.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want to make you come. Hard.”
“Mmm, how?” you purred, biting your lower lip to the suggestion. His eyes fell on your lips again and a small wicked grin appeared on his.
“Ride my face and I’ll show you,” his voice low and heavy with desire. His words sparked an adventurous excitement inside you, making your heart start racing. A bold smile appeared on your face taking up his challenge and the look of awe in the doctor’s eyes gave you the courage to move over, stride his beard, facing towards his body. His strong hands guided your knees on either side of his head and then trailed over your body, adoring every inch of it.
The beautiful close up of your dripping core mere inches from his eager mouth made him salivate, yearning for the taste of you. His tongue started tracing the inner of your thighs, writing small circles on the sensitive skin, lazily finding his way to your lips, licking, sucking, and making them beautifully wet. But his hands on your butt cheeks, kneading the round flesh with fervour showed you that he was impatient to dive into the main course immediately.
A warm, coiled tension started building up inside you, feeling your muscles quivering in anticipation. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding on the soft bristles of his beard, the variation in textures making you weak. You leaned slightly forward, putting your hands on his stomach to hold on, the small change in angle intensifying the sensation and giving him more space to navigate. You couldn’t tell the difference between his lips or tongue. All you could feel was just a nice, sloppy warm mess. A loud gasp escaped you when you felt his tongue run over your opening, lapping your juices.
“You taste like honey,” he grunted into your core, the vibration of his bass hitting you hard. He didn’t wait for you to answer, he went on with his smooth, wet and warm stimulation. When he hit your clit, your whole body shuddered in his tight grip. The effect he had on you made his cock jump. You leaned lower, putting your mouth on him, your fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. You felt his body jerk upon contact and he tried to drown a curse clenching his teeth, causing you to laugh around him. But you didn’t stop, taking him deeper, giving him the attention he needed.
For a moment, he let himself get lost in your ministrations, having your eager, soft tongue wrapped around him, eyes closed, moaning deep, feeling he was growing bigger and harder in your mouth. You took advantage of his openness and brought your hand over his sack, massaging it softly, accelerating the pace, your tongue twirling around his glands every time your lips were around his head.
“Fuck!”
His hips thrust up involuntarily, searching to go deeper into the wetness of your mouth. You felt like you had the upper hand, loving the power he granted you over him, the naughty side of you wanting to make this a race of who was going to come first. But you should have known better, Sy wouldn’t let you have this one. He pressed his tongue flat on your core, intensifying the sensation and then ran it over your opening and sliding it inside you. You couldn’t keep the needy moan from escaping, feeling his tongue teasing your moist entrance and penetrating you.
Your focus was lost and so was your balance. You leaned your forehead on his pelvis, concentrating on all the pleasure he was giving you, stroking him slowly with your hand.
"Don't stop,” you whimpered, feeling the warmth of your orgasm spreading all over you. He pulled you closer against his face and shoved his tongue deeper inside you, fucking you at a frantic pace while his beard set your clit on fire. Your legs started trembling, his firm grip not allowing you to move away from him, the light tremors of your orgasm building into an earthquake, making you shudder and scream.
“God, Luc! Your tongue is magical,” you gasped as you collapsed on the bed, panting with your eyes closed. You heard his deep chuckle and felt the bed shift as he moved over, lying next to you. His arm wrapped around your waist and he scattered small kisses on your shoulder and collarbone, his beard wet from your nectar left a cooling sensation on your skin. You turned to face him, bringing your hand on his jaw, guiding him into a deep kiss. His kisses were always a delicious treat but now that you tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, it made you feel amazing and aroused again.
Never breaking your kiss, Sy laid on top of you, his weight spreading your legs apart. You couldn’t stop your hands from tracing his taut body, relishing in the texture of his muscles. You could feel he was tense, his strength, his heat increasing as he was taking over you and you couldn’t get enough of it. You needed this. You wanted to watch his face as he came inside you, to have his sweat all over you and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. And neither could he.
He fought to control his movements and the urge to claim you hard, pouring all his passion on you. He needed his mind to take over the primal, animal instinct he was feeling at that moment. He was too far gone by now, his whole body aflame. Your voice brought him back.
“Lucas,” you whispered more breath than voice.
“Say it again. Say my name,” he said in your ear, his voice a low groan.
“Lucas, do it.”
His expression was one of intense concentration, replaced by wide sensation, as he eased slowly inside you. His thrust was slow, gentle, allowing your body to get used to his size and open up for him. You took in a deep breath as your body prepared for that familiar feeling of pain to come and tensed up but his kisses, his bites, his touch, his fire engulfed you, making you relax and forget about everything. Without even being aware of it, your pelvises touched and there you were, one deep inside the other. The realization alone made you both gasp, staring at each other with awe.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sy murmured, the overwhelming feeling choking him.
You paused for a moment, running a mental check before nodding faintly and breathing: “More”.
Sy took a moment trying to catch his breath and allowing you to catch yours. Eventually, your bodies unwinded and your breaths almost synced. With slow, soft thrusts he started moving inside you, claiming your mouth at the same slow, languid pace. Your bodies now were the closest they could be. The intense feeling of your tightness made him moan against your lips.
“I can feel every muscle inside you moving,” he gasped, “and it feels fucking incredible.”
"I love the way you feel inside me," you said, your voice giving away a slight hint of breaking, feeling a lump in your throat. You just needed to say it, tell him before your heart burst.
"I love the way I feel inside you," he let out a low content groan, not picking up your emotional overload.
"I love that I can trust you," you went on, closing your eyes trying to contain your feelings, trying to find comfort in his motions, rocking back and forth inside you.
The tears in your voice were more evident, making Sy stop and look at you with worry on his face.
"Baby... Look at me."
You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes, you didn't want to ruin this moment for both of you.
"It's OK, bug. I'm here for you. Open your eyes."
"I love how you are always here for me," you gasped an intense sob ripping through you. "I-I love... you."
His eyes travelled from your lips forming those three words to your eyes, gazing inside them, finding your soul and claiming it as his own. He saw you, really, truly saw you and loved what was there. He tenderly caressed your face with his fingertips, wiping away the trail of your tears. He placed a feathery kiss on your lips and whispered:
"I love you too."
#Henry Cavill#This man#I need a drink#Captain Syverson#Sex on Fire#Fanfiction#henrycavillfanfic#henrycavillsmut#radaofrivia#SMUT#co-written#Henry Cavill x female reader#Henry Cavill x reader#Henry x female reader#Henry x reader
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