#there are loads more probably but these are a few that come to mind
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Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)
Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?
That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆
And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).
Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.
Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.
When~?
Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"
Freeze frame, record scratch.
Wait. WHAT!?
Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.
You know.... FOR SPACE.
He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~
But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!
WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*
It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.
Youngblood is grounded.
DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.
That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.
Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*
There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.
His grin is FERAL.
Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!
The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.
And? Oh~
Oh they are so SO realistic.
Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!
He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.
"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!
He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.
Spaaaaaaaace~☆
He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.
But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.
.........just not for him.
He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.
In need of PROTECTION.
He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.
It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...
Amity's not his Haunt anymore.
They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...
It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.
He refused to go, so he could protect them.
The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.
Space makes him ghosty.
Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!
And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.
Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.
Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.
Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!
Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.
Hmmmmm....
Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!
"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"
Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)
Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".
Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.
Routine check ins!
And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)
@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter
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The apple of his eye (MDNI)
Pairings: Carl Grimes X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Ron is alive blegh, smut (EVERYONE IS 18+), jealousy sex, established relationship, kinda long
Ever since Carl lost his eye to Ron, you had hated him from the root of your being, you couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him, let alone speak to him. I mean, how could you? He shot your boyfriend in the eye....
Until Rick assigned you on a run with him. Amazing.
“It’s only a run, Carl-“
“I don’t care! Do you know what he’s capable of? He almost killed me, what if he puts your life in danger to, the things I would do, Y/N..”
“Carl…” You tried to ease his mind but if there’s anything he gets from his father, it’s his stubbornness.
“You’re not going, he’s putting your life in his hands and I can’t take that risk.” You sighed and connected your forehead to his. “I’ll be fine..” I’m sure you’ll hear me scream if he tries anything...” You chuckle lightly.
But he took it much more seriously than you did.
The day of the run, while you grabbed your gun, he sat on a chair, watching you anxiously. He knew you were probably gonna be find but he couldn’t not worry about you. When you were ready, you turn to him and smile, spreading your arms out for a hug.
He completes the hug, getting up from the chair, smoothing out your hair and kissing just below your ear. “Be careful. I’m serious. He tries anything and you fucking tell me.” You nod, blushing and smiling then head out the door.
On the run, it was mostly Ron just trying to brag about one thing or another and you didn’t necessarily like it. You ignored him. You spit a way into the pharmacy but only by a high window. “Hey-shut up-get me up there.” You tell him and he follows, boosting you up by the feet and helping you in. “Anything good in there?”
Except you can’t see. You shine your flashlight around, looking for the things on the list Rick sent you with. “I don’t see anything! Might need some help looking!” You call out. “I’ll find a way in!” He responds.
And you wait...and you wait and eventually it's fucking dark out.
"Fuck me." You thought.
You grab a rope and just pray to god it's long enough to get you out of the building. You throw it and it barely gets you out. You climb out, keeping your gun loaded and ready if walkers find you. Only a few do, one at a time and you barely fight past them, scratching yourself up on the ground. You make a run for Alexandria and the guards see you. "It's me! Y/N!"
They open the gate and start asking you what happened and how'd you take so long. But you shove past them, planning to explain later. Right now, you're pissed. You walk to Carl's house and open the door to Carl yelling at Ron and demanding to know where you were.
"Carl..?" As soon as he sees you he's hugging you, asking if the scratches on you were from walkers, if you were okay, what had happened. You explain quickly what had happened while staring at Ron. As soon as you're done, Carl is seething.
"You fucking animal." He growls and punches Ron in the mouth. "Get up. You left her out there?!" He demands. Ron tries to lie, saying he couldn't find a way in but Carl doesn't care about that. He cares about Ron getting karma.
"You left her out there, you fucking dog.” He starts punching him, hard, when you pull Carl off of him. "Carl...Enough. come on don't beat the kid to a pulp."
"Out. Now." He growls and Ron runs out quickly with a busted lip, bloody nose and a bruised eye. Carl hugs you and smooths your hair down to comfort you. "I'm so sorry. I tried getting him to tell me where you were, what had happened..." You smile slightly and hug him back when he scoops you up and carries you to his room.
He starts a shower for you where he washes your hair for you and worships you, kissing your knuckles. You just hum in response to his actions as he kisses up and down your neck, leaving hickeys. An once you get out, he scoops you up onto the counter, making out with you, breathing heavily and the only thing between you two is a towel around his waist.
Fuck.
His hands trailed the small of your back as you sat on his lap on his bed, kissing each other heatedly, breathing heavily and whimpering into each other mouths. "Put it in?" You whimper. He nods, looking down, his hat falling partially in front of his face. You giggle and put it on your own head as he slides across your clit. "Ah-! Fuck.." You cry out and he smiles while still looking down, pushing up into you.
"Y/N.." He says, breathless. "Fuck, you are all fucking mine."
And he fucks you senseless, not making you do any of the work, just letting you take him inch by inch, babbling in your ear, praising you.
"Fuck...all mine...all mine...So fucking pretty.." He would say breathlessly as he tilts his head slightly. You lay your head on his shoulder, biting into the skin and leaving a bite mark for everyone to see. You can only let out a string of whimpers from how good he's fucking you and eventually the tight knot in your lower stomach tightens and you claw at him "Close..Carl-!"
"Make a mess on me. Make a fucking mess, let everyone know you're mine."
And with that, the tight knot snaps and you collapse against his chest and he holds you so you don't fall as he continues fucking you through your orgasm, he starts kissing your cheek letting you know he’s there.
As he feels you clenching, he thrusts 1, 2, 3 more times and groans deeply, shooting into your womb as he buries his face in your hair.
"Fuck, I need to make you jealous more often.." You joke.
#carl grimes#carl grimes smut#the walking dead#was this good or nah#twd#the walking dead smut#rick grimes#carl grimes fanfic#chandler riggs#grimes family#walking dead#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes fanfiction#twd fanart#twd carl grimes#glenn rhee#chandler riggs x reader#SoundCloud
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Mkay soooo, changed ✨Lillian’s✨ eyes!
Yes yes yes! I changed her eyes out for these red anime eyes I had on hand, initially I thought… “How fun would it be if these actually fit and worked” , I had no intention on them actually working. 🤣🤣🤣 But man am I delighted. I feel like they’ve definitely brought her to life and I feel like her personality comes through even harder now.
I had to make her something small to romp around in and thought I’d do a simple granny square top. I’ve done these tops loads of times for my SmartDolls and wanted to see if it translated well on this scale. I think it looks okay, I feel like it fits the aesthetic of my Smarties a little better. Lillian wants me to make her something for her with her in mind! I’ll slap a pic of a SmartDoll in one of the many tops I’ve made for context.
So I love this on them! But I think I might try another design I’ve had cooking for a while. I’ve made a few for SmartDoll already and they didn’t seem to care about it much so….. maybe Lillian might… who knows? I’ll probably be back here complaining about how much she doesn’t like said garment. I’ll share a pic tho, it looks like this
Kiiinda hard to really make out because I have it styled with one of @queenofsquids jackets they sent to me 🥰❤️ but let’s hope Lillian likes this style.
She does like crochet things tho… that was the first think she told me when unboxing her. 🥰 so I guess I can’t be too upset
Let’s play around a little bit more before we etch anything in stone. I haven’t even got around to seeing for her yet. I have a pride dress planned this month that I am UBER excited for.
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JJK men waking up horny at night
MDNI : 18+, smut, somnophilia, masturbation, p in v, degradation and much more
Contains : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushigiro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna (I was throwing up while writing his bitch ass 😾 I still love you Sukuna 😔)
small note : remember! Consent is everything, so let’s say the reader and character made an agreement on not minding if they would wake up to head etc. Not proof read
Gojo Satoru
He often got wet dreams, either waking up to morning wood or- waking up in the middle of the night.
And that’s what happened this time, it’s 3 am and Satoru let out a groan as his eyes opened, his whole face was red, it was so goddamn hot in here. He looked over at your peaceful face, wrapped his hands around you and pulled you closer.
He breathed in your smell, leaving kisses all around your neck and shoulders, slightly grinding his hard cock against your ass.
“Fuck… not letting me rest in my sleep either.” A quiet whine left his mouth, one hand going under his shirt that you were wearing, while the other one pulled your panties to the side, you usually only slept in his shirt and your panties, so he had easy access to your body.
“Baby… I need you…” two of his fingers entered you, he started moving them slowly and scissoring them, you let out a soft moan and clenched your thighs together- but still asleep.
He sped up his pace, taking his own cock into his hand and started stroking it. You let out a louder moan, feeling something tighten inside your stomach.
Suddenly your eyes shot open as your hand instantly went to grab his wrist. “T-Toru!” You cried as he added a third finger.
“M’sorry baby… I was so horny…” he was also close, groaning as he was stroking his cock faster.
“C-Can I put it in? Please please I need to feel you…” You nodded, not able to say anything, the only sounds leaving your mouth being moans of his name.
His fingers left your hole, you whined at the lost sensation but it was immediately replaced with his cock, you gasped at the feeling of being so full. He had your back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, holding them up so it was easier for him to slide in.
His thrusts were slow and deep, hitting your cervix every time.
“Toru!! Ah- c-close!” You moaned, your nails were digging into his shoulder as he fastened his pace.
“S-shit… me too baby, me too.” One of his hands left your thigh, letting it lay on the bed, it instead went to your clit.
Your eyes rolled back and your back arched as you came, he wasn’t far behind, a few more strokes and he buried himself deep inside and shot his loads of cum.
As he pulled out you both were a panting mess. He moved your panties back, his hands wrapping around your waist and head hid in your shoulder.
“I’ll clean you up in the morning…”
Nanami Kento
It was rare for him to get wet dreams, it basically never happened, until this night.
He was rock hard and itching to touch you but he didn’t want to wake you up. You came back from work really late and exhausted, it was a hard day for you.
He could just jerk off, but he wanted you so bad. He got onto his knees, making you lay on your back as he pushed your legs apart, slowly pulling your panties off, making sure you won’t wake up.
He grabbed his cock in his hand and started stroking it, imagining it was your hand right now. You were so cute asleep, his beautiful wife.
You probably would tease him for days if you found out what he was doing, he just wanted to quickly get off to your body and go back to sleep.
He leaned down, kissing all over your exposed cleavage and neck, leaving small marks with every kiss, you’ll probably wake up and wonder where’d they come from.
He’ll explain himself tomorrow, right now it wasn’t important. What was is that he’s closer and closer, he started moving his hand faster, shooting out ropes all over your stomach that was exposed due to your shirt being ridden up, following with a muffled moan.
When he calmed down, he grabbed a tissue from the shelf and cleaned the cum off you. Putting your panties back down and laying down next to you, cuddling you.
Toji Fushigiro
He dreamt of you pregnant all over again, your round belly, filled with his child. He knows he has a breeding kink, so it’s obvious that he has gotten hard just from thinking about it.
Megumi wouldn’t mind a little brother, or maybe sister. Fuck, he wanted to get you pregnant again. He knows you’re on that shitty pill- he needs to flush them down the fucking toilet.
But right now all he needed was you. He grabbed your sleeping face and slammed his lips on yours, making you gasp, which allowed his tongue to enter.
“Mhmm- too-ji?” You muffled out barely awake, confused why in the middle of the night your man started furiously attacking your mouth.
“Fuck- feel what you did to me doll, got me all hard even in my sleep, yeah?” You let out another gasp, feeling his hard erection press against your clothed pussy.
Not letting you say anything he ripped your panties and immediately positioned his cock against your entrance.
“T-Toji! What if we wake up Megumi-”
“Then you have to quiet down all these pretty sounds, hm?” And just like that he slammed his dick inside of you. You quickly bit down on your hand, muffling your loud cry.
Not letting you adjust, he continued slamming in and out of you at a quick pace. Tears filled your eyes from the pleasure, trying the best to muffle your loud moans. Your other hand scratched at his back.
He grabbed the hand that was covering your mouth and replaced it with his lips, you could’ve sworn you felt his tongue in your throat, it was a messy kiss- tongues and teeth clashing together. Then he moved down to your neck, leaving marks all over it.
“A-Ah! S-Slo’down- T’muchhh!” Instead of actually slowing down, he only went faster if that was even possible at this point.
“I know you can take it, doll. You always do.” With every thrust you were closer, it was also hard to be quiet with this beast of a man slamming into you at an inhuman pace.
“Toji- close so close!”
“Come on, cum f’me” Your head threw back, not able to contain the loud cry that left your mouth, his pussy clamped down so hard on his cock that he came short after you, letting out a load groan as he filled you up.
“One more round?”
“Toji- wait, AH-”
Choso Kamo
You’re his first ever partner, he’s still not used to all those relationships things. So just imagine his confusion when he woke up at 2 am, his dick rock hard and his body hot.
He looked over to you, sleeping so beautifully, you were asleep and didn’t even do anything- what happened??
He couldn’t go back to sleep, he was too horny. You won’t be mad if he wakes you up, right?
He carefully shook you, calling out your name. After a minute you opened your eyes, mumbling out some incorrect words. When you saw it was Choso who was sitting up, looking all worried you immediately raised yourself up on your hands.
“Love…? What’s wrong?” You asked, his face got red immediately, embarrassed to say what happened.
“I- woke up and my dick was hard, I didn’t know what happened so I woke you up.” You stared at him and let out a soft laugh, sitting up next to him.
“Oh baby, you probably just had a wet dream.” He looked at you confused, still not understanding what that meant.
“A wet dream is when you dream about something sexual.” He let out a quiet ohh, you shook your head smiling.
“Want me to help?” He didn’t move for a while before slowly shaking his head, still embarrassed that he had to wake you up for that. You took his dick in your hands, slowly moving them up and down before lowering your head and leaving kisses all over his cock.
His hand buried itself in your hair as he let out a quiet moan, begging you to not tease him. You complied to his request, taking as much of him as you can in your mouth.
He slightly thrust his hips forward, making the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. “M-m’sorry… had too-“ he whined as your plump lips dragged on his dick, your mouth so warm. The rest that you couldn’t fit in was wrapped around your hand, not being forgotten.
The way you looked up at him, the way that your mouth moved- he was getting closer and you knew it, your movement got faster and he gripped your hair tightly, letting out a moan as he came inside your mouth.
You swallowed it all, giving his head a last kiss before raising yourself up and wiping the corners of your lips with your hand. “You did so good love” he blushed at the praise,
“I’ll repay you tomorrow, okay?”
“Choso, you know you don’t have to-”
“But I want to.”
Ryomen Sukuna
He will not wake you up and admit that he got hard because of a stupid dream, there’s absolutely no way. He won’t ‘jerk off’ either, that would be just low of him.
So he will indeed wake you up but by his cock inside of you. He immediately got to work, ripping your panties off and throwing them somewhere in the room, getting in between your legs as he picked them up and held them against your chest.
He spit down on your pussy, the cold sensation making you shiver in your sleep. He grabbed one of his cocks and positioned it against your entrance, he would use both but getting you prepared for the other one would take too long.
And with a quick thrust he was deep inside of you, filling you up. The sudden intruder immediately woke you up, letting out pleasurable but also painful scream.
“Ngh—! wha-?!” Your eyes darted around the room before laying on the huge frame of Sukuna, who was glaring at you.
“Quiet, brat. This is your fault so now take it.” Your back arched off the mattress as he suddenly started moving, still half asleep not knowing what’s happening.
“Ryo-! Wait! Let me-” before you could finish your sentence a loud moan left your mouth, he did not plan on giving you any mercy with how fast he was ramming inside you.
You yelped as he slapped your ass harshly, “That’s for waking me up, brat.” You wanted to reply to him but you couldn’t form the words, even if you did you knew that would just result in another slap.
He didn’t even bother at pulling out as he picked you up and flipped you onto your stomach like a ragdoll. Continuing with his harsh slams, you felt every vein, with how big he was he was hitting every spot inside your pussy.
His hand grabbed your head and pushed you further into the pillow, making you arch more. He was slamming into you so hard it felt like he was rearranging your guts. The knot in your stomach tightened as you clenched around him.
“Cum, slut.” With his words your hands gripped onto the pillows and with almost a scream-like moan you came so hard you saw stars, but even with your tight pussy clamping around him so hard his thrusts didn’t slow down.
He once again grabbed your body, now picking it up and making you sit on his lap, your back against his chest as he bounced you up and down. You were so fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your tongue out as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth.
“Look at you, so greedy for my cock.” He smirked, pinching your nipple.
“Ryooo— I can’t-” he slapped your ass once again, making you let out a cry, feeling another orgasm coming soon.
“Close already?” He scoffed “Pathetic” you squirmed as his hand went to your clit. One hand on your throat, second on your boobs, third wrapped around your waist making you bounce and fourth on your clit.
“Haa- n-nono-“ you cried as the next orgasm hit you, squirting all around his cock and hand. Leaving you a panting and overstimulated mess.
“What a messy pussy…” he groaned as he slammed you down, cock buried so deep there was a bulge on your stomach as he filled you with his load.
You were sure you would fall down on the bed if he wasn’t holding you up. He pulled his cock out just to fill you again with his second one.
“Did you think we were done, brat?”
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#jjk smut#sukuna x reader#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso smut#gojo smut#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#choso x you#nanami x you#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk x you
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bruised knees
words: 2.1k
warnings: mentions of blowjobs, losing virginity, virgin!reader (but fic is not smut), jealous! and overprotective!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, fluffy
rafe has been beyond overprotective of you his whole life. ever since you met in first grade and you let him borrow your brand new crayon box, only for a bully to come up and tug on your pigtails, causing rafe to pause his coloring to shove him away and tell him not to touch you ever again.
you smiled at rafe, the same smile you look at him with now, and he knew he would take care of you no matter what. you hugged him tightly and from that day on always shared your crayons, and everything else you had, with your new best friend.
“ready?” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the boat.
“yes!” you squeal, trying to navigate holding your tote bag and backpack at once, when suddenly both are out of your hands as rafe takes them and carries them down the pier.
“rafe, i can carry my own stuff.” you roll your eyes. it's a losing battle, your best friend will always lessen your load, hating seeing you do any sort of physical labor, feeling like that's his job.
“yeah, whatever.” rafe just ignores your argument, it's one he's heard so many times before, yet you make no attempt to take the bags back. “who all did you invite again?” rafe asks as you enter onto the boat, quickly beginning preparations for the day at sea, having gone through the motions so many times, knowing the boat like the back of your hand even though it's the cameron familys.
“uhh, topper, tina, kelce, steph, tiffy and hayden.” you go through the list of names in your head of friends that will be joining you and rafe on the yacht.
“how is tiffy since the break up?” rafe asks, knowing you like to talk while you work, pulling various lines while you straighten up the boat to make it more presentable, going through the motions together, always together.
rafes question launches you into a gossip session with rafe, spilling all the secrets your friends told you at your last hang out, but they know you don't keep anything from rafe, so it's no surprise when he knows as well, not that any of the girls would complain, rafe often takes over the role of protector to your friends as well, caring about who you care about.
“there's hayden!” you call to rafe, pointing down the dock to the parking lot where haydens truck just pulled in, a few minutes earlier than you expected anyone to start arriving.
“great.” rafe mumbles under his breath, making sure you don't hear his upset tone. he liked hayden at first, sharing some common interests (mostly golf), but then hayden got far too touchy with you, his gaze heating when it turned to you in a way that infuriated rafe, and he made sure to show hayden when you weren't around how much it pissed him off.
rafe is probably to credit for you never having a boyfriend for an extended period of time, but he can't help it, you're so perfect and no guy can possibly deserve you, so he has to scare them off before you get too invested and give them all of your attention instead of him.
“hey, heyds.” you greet him with a hug after he makes his way down the pier, making rafe grunts as haydens hand rests a little too low on your back for his liking, making rafes mind reel at the possibility of something going on between the two of you.
your other friends slowly begin to pile onto the boat, steph being the last one to get there as she is notorious for being late, which is why you told her to show up half an hour before everyone else, and somehow still managed to get there last.
“ready for takeoff?” you ask rafe, stepping away to join him at the wheel while your group of friends find places to sit while rafe navigates the boat towards the ocean.
“i am.” rafe nods, having disconnected the last line. no matter what is happening, you always sit next to rafe on the bench as he directs the boat, ready to be his second in command at any moment, even if its just fetching him a drink or checking the water depth.
“i can’t wait to swim.” you say with a sigh, having not gotten out into the water all week, which is rare with how much peace you find in the ocean.
“how about that one sandbar we took wheezie to?” rafe questions, wanting you to decide where he anchors the boat.
“ooh, yes.” you nod.
“she complained to me last night that you weren’t over.” rafe smiles at you when you let out a laugh.
“i don’t spend one friday night and she complains! ugh, i love that girl.” you grin thinking about wheezie, treating her like she’s your own little sister, having known her since she was born.
“you’ll stay tonight, right?” rafe asks, missing you sharing his bed like you do every weekend.
“mhm, i’m not driving home after being out on the boat all day, gonna be so exhausted.” you roll your eyes.
rafe smiles at you, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, leaving him to drive with one hand, but wanting you close to him, secretly hoping hayden would look through the windows from the lower deck and see you all cuddled up into his side.
neither of you have ever broached the topic of taking things beyond just friendship, despite rafe desperately wanting to take things further, he doesn’t want to mess up the one good thing he has in his life. you’re such a source of brightness that when you’re around him he forgets all about his fights with his dad, or issues with barry.
“here.” rafe nods to you, immediately going to drop the anchor, planning to stay in one spot all day.
you help him make sure its secure before moving to the main deck with everyone else. “alright, who is ready to swim?” you shout with glee.
“you know i am.” hayden smirks at you, pulling his shirt off over his head.
“mhm, that’s why i like you, not afraid to get wet.” you say, rafe carefully watching the interaction, unsure if you meant the innuendo or not.
you take your tshirt off as well, tossing it onto the pile that everyone is making on the sofa, revealing swimsuits underneath their clothes. rafe also undresses, but slowly and quietly.
you tug your yoga pants down next, having kicked your shoes off upon entering the boat. you turn towards rafe, always checking in with him, seeking him out amongst the crowd.
rafe smiles at you, his eyes dropping subtly down your body, quickly checking out your pale lilac swimsuit before he sees a different shade of purple, this time blossoming around your knees.
hayden seems to notice too, a smirk growing on his face when he sees the localized bruises.
“what the fuck did you do?” rafe grunts out before he can stop himself and use the calming methods you so carefully taught him.
“what?” hayden turns to look at rafe, but he’s already charging at him. rafe shoves hayden backwards, making him stumble but he manages to maintain his footing.
“rafe, chill!” you shout, grabbing at his arm.
“did he-did you fucking blow him?” rafe questions, pointing to your knees. “how did you get those bruises?”
“jesus, rafe!” you take a step back, but don’t drop your grip on his arm, not sure if he would try to pull away. “you seriously ask me that in front of all our friends? for your information i was working out in the garden yesterday and bruised my knees kneeling on the pavers. but thanks for embarrassing me.”
you drop his arm when you feel tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning and sprinting into the interior of the boat.
you throw yourself onto the bed in one of the two bedrooms, hiding your face in the white pillow as you cry.
“y/n…” rafe says softly. you don’t jump at his voice, you expected him to follow you, but you don’t feel like talking to him.
“please, y/n.” rafe pleads, and you feel his weight dip the bed down as he climbs onto the mattress.
“stop it.” you whine when rafe pulls you into him, but you don’t struggle as he cuddles into you, pressing a kiss against your hair. you’ve cuddled rafe before, of course since you’ve been friends for so long, but never with this little clothing on, and you are very aware of how much of his bare skin is touching yours.
“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, y/n. i just… i just got so angry thinking about you possibly doing anything with hayden. i don’t like him. he’s not good enough for you.”
“why would you even think i would do that though? you know im a virgin.”
the words shock rafe, and you can physically feel him tense up. you pick up your head to look at him, brows furrowed together.
“i-i didn’t know that.” rafe just assumed you lost it to one of your short term boyfriends.
“no… no i would have told you, rafey. you’re my best friend, i… you told me when you lost yours.” you remind rafe of when he was 16 years old and had sex for the first time, calling you only an hour after to confide in you, partly hoping you would get jealous.
“i thought you knew that i wouldn’t want to hear about you sleeping with someone. i guess i just figured you kept it to yourself for my sake.” rafe doesn’t realize the implication of his words as they flow from between his lips.
“why would i?- wait… you like me?” you blink up at him.
rafe pauses. now is as good as time as any, especially with the growing threat of hayden and other guys who aren’t scared of rafe potentially taking you away from him. “yes. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since first grade.”
“holy shit, you asshole!” you shout, and it’s not the reaction rafe was expecting as he tenses, waiting for you to run off, or get mad, but instead your shout turns into a laugh, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!” and then your lips are on his, finally feeling the perfect meld of your mouths together as rafe quickly snaps into action, his lips moving against yours as he cups your face.
“i love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious.” you whisper against his mouth before resuming the kiss.
“thank fuck, i was ready to murder hayden just because i thought you liked him.” rafe laughs, tugging on your waist to bring your bodies even closer together, leaving his large hand resting against your bare back.
“pshht.” you shake your head. “he’s not even half the man you are.”
“holy shit, i love you.” rafe repeats, taking you in for another kiss.
“my friends are never gonna believe that we finally got together.” you giggle. “i think they’ve all placed bets.”
“your friends?” rafe shakes his head. “baby, i think even our parents have.”
“i… i’m really happy we admitted are feelings.” you say shyly, a blush covering your cheeks as you look down, breaking eye contact. “everyone told me that you liked me too but i was too nervous to ruin what we had.”
“hey, it’s okay.” rafe says softly. “we have forever this way.”
you feel tears well up in your eyes again as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head into his bare chest.
“gosh, i can’t wait to go tell everyone.” you admit with a giggle.
“yeah? wanna go get in the water too?” rafe asks, unsure if your friends waiting for your argument to be over to swim.
“hell yeah.” you slide off the bed, rafe taking a minute to check out your body, not hiding his heated gaze as you catch him.
“holy shit, you are checking me out!”
“duh, you’re my girl now.” rafe smirks, also getting off the bed, placing an arm around your shoulder. “gonna give you bruised knees for a different reason, baby.”
“wait, rafe-” you begin, suddenly not feeling like swimming anymore, but he pulls you out onto the deck, seeing all your friends sitting awkwardly on the sofas, waiting for whatever argument to be over with.
“don’t worry baby.” rafe drops his mouth to your ear, making sure your friends can’t hear. “we can talk about that virginity of yours later.”
rafe doesn’t give you a second to respond, placing his fingers on your chin and tilting your head towards him to press a kiss to your lips to the chorus of all of your friends letting out woops and claps, along with shouts of “finally!”
“i told you!” tiffy shouts, holding her hand out towards stephanie. “you owe me 20 bucks!”
taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart
#despite the name this is pretty fluffy#rafe fic#rafe cameron fic#rafe fanfic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fluff#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut
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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.
To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.
On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.
But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.
At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.
As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.
#writing advice#rambling#first drafts#gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster#feel like ive a ways to go yet#horror journeyman maybe
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miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - intoxicated
→ she/her pronouns!
modern ceo au!
what happens when miguel is drunk
It's extremely rare when Miguel goes out to drink with coworkers, it's rare enough when Miguel gets out to go anywhere in general. He's either cooped up in his office, glued to his work, or glued to you at home.
You suggested to Miguel earlier this week about getting out to a bar, along with a few of the other higher-ups of the company. It's healthy to get out, you said, even if all he's going to be doing is drinking alcohol and eating meat.
Miguel's only good with people in a more professional sense; he's not the best at being all buddy-buddy with people he usually works with. He's quiet the entire time he's at the bar, occasionally taking a bored nibble at a bowl of loaded fries.
He kind of regrets this; surrounded by loud music, loud people, TV's with sports games playing in the background. He just misses you, he wants to come home and make food with you.
One of his coworkers, nudged him in the side a bit, obviously gesturing towards the wide array of various drinks and juices.
"Might as well have a drink while you're at it." He says, and Miguel is just stone-faced the entire time. The man walks away towards the remaining group of coworkers, possibly to either go dance, or to stare at girls from afar.
Considerably, it's been a while since he's had a drink. One or two wouldn't hurt, especially as a last minute scrounge for enjoyment in this god-awful bar.
Slowly, Miguel nurses on a drink provided by a suspiciously sleek bartender, leaning his cheek into his palm whilst taking a couple sips. He can feel the wolfish eyes of various women & men staring at him, feeling somehow exposed in his tight white button-up and simple pants. If only you were here, to sit in his lap and run your little hands against his chest.
The thought makes his head spin, a violent hot warmth running up his cheeks, his mind being blurred like a smudge on someone's reading glasses. The room's almost tilting sideways, the thoughts in his head dissolving away. (miguelito is a lightweight because i say so)
Miguel's drunk, for the first time in literal years.
He doesn't like it; he feels out of control of his body, unable to think or function correctly. He feels like a different person entirely, his eyes replaced with jelly and the tips of his ears turning scarlet.
The drink tasted good and all, but Miguel's thoughts on you feel magnified, every feature, every action you do running through his head like a cassette tape. He misses you more, and he really wants to see you.
Cleverly, he pulls out his phone, sighing to himself on the counter. It takes him a moment to put in his phone password correctly, fingers drunkenly tapping on the screen until he can find your contact.
. . .
You receive a text notification at about 9:43. Expectedly, you knew Miguel probably wouldn't make it through the whole night, but you're proud of him for trying. You open up your phone, amidst watching a show in bed.
miguelito💞💓: My love, I am intoxicated.
The text makes you giggle a little, imagining him all red-faced and tripping over himself with his coworkers.
Conveniently, you receive another text, one from the person you asked to keep an eye on Miguel.
It's a picture of Miguel with his head leaned against the counter, lovingly zooming in on a picture of your face with his phone. His ears are red, and there's a half-drunken drink beside him.
james q: he says he misses you. want me to take him home?
you: it's okay, thanks tho. i'll be there in 10 to get him.
james q: 👍
Assuming Miguel's still on his phone, you shoot him a text.
you: i see u looking at me
You giggle to yourself, and Miguel is visibly both shocked and excited, peering left to right as if you were magically in the bar.
miguelito💞💓: Please pick me up. I hate it here.
you: ok sweetie, be there in 10
. . .
Despite the hour, the bar is bustling as ever, populated with underage girls wearing slip dresses and drunk frat boys. You worm through the building, searching left and right for your husband through the cacophonous bar.
Finally, you spot him where the counter is, big head tucked into crossed arms.
Gently, you slip your hand onto his shoulder, warmly rubbing him awake. At first he flinches, staring at you as if you were a stranger. He relaxes a few seconds later, lovingly and drunkenly fixating on you.
"Hey hun, I'm here to take you home." You say, and Miguel feels so warm, so comforted in contrast to the rash environment of the pub. He wants to kiss you, but he's too drunk to focus.
Without a word, Miguel rises from his bar stool, arms and hands immediately inching around your shoulders. He doesn't realize it, but he's pressing more of his body weight onto you, leaning on top of you like a slug.
Seeing you roll away the finest, sexiest piece of man as if it were nothing makes the party around you fume, their thoughts of asking for a number shattered within a minute or two.
Miguel trails after you, gluing himself to your back as you maneuver yourself out of the stuffy bar. Finally, you're out in the cool air of the dark, muffled edm music booming from the block's other counterparts.
The sidewalk is somewhat barren, scattered with a few people smoking or walking.
"I missed you, s'much." Miguel slurs, seeing the outline of your car in the dark parking lot.
"I know you did, baby. Now you get to come home with me and we can do whatever you want, like we promised." You say, unlocking your car with the press of your key.
He smiles just a teensy bit, his heart warming at the thought of snuggling up to you in bed, or cooking a late-night meal of sorts with you while a show plays in the background.
Miguel's the passenger princess tonight, adjusting the seat backwards so he can actually sit. He stares at you the entire time through bleary eyes, watching you start the car as if it were the most artistic and most beautiful thing ever.
"I love you." Miguel says, and you can feel the gratuity in his voice.
"I love you too."
© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.
#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#fluff#reader insert#romance#x reader#spiderman#spiderverse#seratopia writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
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— ✧ flight of the stars
"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."
you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)
genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff
description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.
tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie
w/c: 13.3k
fic playlist
a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^
smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesn’t kill himself first.
It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shit—you know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesn’t snap in half the next time he races and then—pang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghao’s head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.
His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghao’s harness, releasing all the tension. “Are you good?” he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.
Wonwoo’s heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghao’s head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, and—crap, his eyes are glossy and—oh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.
“Hao—” Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and that’s when Wonwoo hears it—a sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:
“G-get the medic.”
His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and it’s all because of this stupid neck training session, and—Wonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghao’s work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.
Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t know what to say.
Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).
“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season?” Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutes’ worth of silence in tense air.
“We don’t know that yet,” Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghao’s lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.
“Fuck,” he breaths out.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.
“Like a bitch,” he mutters bitterly.
Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isn’t easy for Minghao—it isn’t easy for anyone—and he’s aware of the stakes involved for the team. “Hao, you know we’ll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.”
Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. “Yeah. I know.”
Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friend’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. “I messed up with the controls—it’s my fault, and I—”
“It’s fine,” Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. “It was an accident.”
It’s not fine. It’s not fucking fine at all and—
Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like he’s ‘bout to pop a vein from all the blood that’s rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwoo’s voice.
“You’ll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, “How long is it gonna take? T-to heal?”
His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.
“We don’t know.”
“You already sa—” Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. “Could I actually be out the whole season?”
There’s silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.
“There’s a chance.”
Minghao thinks he might scream.
“Hey Seungie!” you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.
“I told you to stop calling me that in public!” he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way he’s pouting.
“No one’s even here, no one’ll hear anything,” you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.
“Still!”
You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
This time, you roll your eyes. “Yes … Seungie—”
“I hate you!” Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I’m officially disowning you as my best friend.”
You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. “Are you kidding me? And here I thought I would’ve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not …” you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwan’s face.
“I was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friend—c’mon, you know I was just joking,” he pleads from behind you.
You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. “You’re horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,” you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. “You’re lucky I love you,” you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful “thanks” under his breath.
“Okay, well ditto to you too,” he barks back. “Who else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?”
“Hey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! ”
“Okay, first of all, melodical isn’t even a word, and even if it was—” Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. “I probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,” he shoots at you.
You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who he’s even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that it’s a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.
It’s a nice little space you’ve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and you’d even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTOR’s physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about it—being able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.
Now, you haven’t actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and you’ve started to appreciate that more recently. It’s not as stressful, and you don’t have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone who’s dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.
You wonder when you’ll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.
Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. “Hey, uh, this is kinda important,” he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.
“What’s up?” you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwan’s quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.
“Some doctor at SECTOR’s facility just called and—” Crap, you know where this is going already. “—Xu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And he’s getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and they’re gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.”
You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.
“You good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. “Lost you for a second—it looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Sorry, just zoned out,” you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. “I’m a bit nervous I guess. I’ve never worked with a professional like him—at least not yet,” you continue to say, and it’s not entirely a lie.
You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.
Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, “You got this. Seriously, you’ve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!”
Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.
“Hey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?” you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.
“Shoot, was it supposed to be C? I’m sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right now—” he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.
“Hey wait no it’s okay, I just asked for C ‘cause it’s a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Don’t worry about it—have you had your lunch break yet?”
“Nah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but he’s taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.”
You chuckle, “Already? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago …”
Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. “You know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.”
“Don’t remind me—he’s crazy. I don’t know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being but—”
Seungkwan’s voice cuts you off. “I know you guys are talking about me but I’d suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTOR’s logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.”
Oh fuck. You’re already starting to feel awfully nervous.
“Shit, really? I didn’t think they’d be here as early as noon,” Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. “Anything we need to do?”
“Guys, just chill,” you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. “Just handle this like you would any other patient. I’ll probably have to talk to his manager, but while we’re doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? He’s probably stressed out as is.”
“Noted,” Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.
You try to make out their figures; that one on the left’s probably one of SECTOR’s health directors, and the one on the right is … that’s Choi Seungcheol isn’t it? The one who sent you the emails? He’s Xu Minghao’s manager, you’re pretty sure of it.
You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.
Yup, there’s Choi Seungcheol … and then Cho Miyeon following behind and she’s pushing a—shit, it’s Xu Minghao in all his glory.
Well, you’re not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neck’s held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesn’t look up, and for a moment you’re grateful.
It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.
Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly …
Does he even remember you?
You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.”
“No problem,” you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. “My assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if he’s even noticed you.
As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. “Shall we?”
Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice—this all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, we’re kind of desperate to get him back in the driver’s seat as soon as possible.”
“No worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what I’m here for,” you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. “Now I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,” you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, “And there’s a general understanding that Mr. Xu’s suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.”
“Yeah, uh—how long is this going to take to heal?” Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.
“I can give you a range, but it’s not so definite … I’d say between three to five months,” you tell him. “But again, it’s different for every patient. Muscle strains aren’t like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when it’ll be healed … this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xu’s body, and that’s what I’m here for—to help figure out what works for him.”
“We understand that, thank you,” Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. “How often should he be coming in?”
“Hm, I’ll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, I’d say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.”
You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.
“He seems like, really sad, so—”
“Well, duh. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.
“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.
You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.
“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”
You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.
“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.
“Yeah.”
“Is it better now?”
“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”
“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.
As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?
His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.
Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.
“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.
You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.
“What time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? He’ll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?” Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.
“Uh, he’s coming in for a session from 11-2 today—which, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I can’t remember if I already put that on the to-do list.”
“Yeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. You’re gonna lead it with him this time, right?”
“Yeah, since it’s the first session. You were right about him being … apprehensive—”
“Sad,” Jeonghan corrects you. “A sad, sad boy.”
“Yeah well, go figure,” you sigh out of sympathy. “Anyways, like I said, it’s understandable for him to be frustrated, so I’ll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.”
“Okay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.
It’s a shitty injury, you’ll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.
Must hurt like a bitch—physically and mentally—and the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.
With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.
Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and you’re thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. “I’ll come by at 2, right?”
“Yeah, that’ll be great. Thank you,” Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghao’s wheelchair and strolling him into the room. You’re already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.
“Hi Mr. Xu,” you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
“Morning,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isn’t as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.
“How’s the pain right now, Mr. Xu?” you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.
Your patient’s eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. “Uh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is … it’s weird.”
“Y-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,” you nod with a half smile. “So could you tell me how things are feeling?”
“I guess it hurts less. I don’t really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself though—kinda in this thing most of the time anyways,” he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.
“Do you stand up? Walk around at all?”
“Not often.”
“Okay so I think we’re going to try and change that soon,” you tell him. “We’ll do some mobility checks today but if it doesn’t hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think it’s best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, you’re going to be injured for a while and—”
You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.
“—and we don’t want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. We’ll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?”
Minghao’s ears perk up at that. “Two weeks? Only?”
You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you don’t move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once it’s over, you’ll be more mobile. Of course, you won’t be able to get back to racing and training right away, but you’ll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.”
“How long will it take before I can start training again?” Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.
The desperation is painful to watch.
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. “At least two months.”
“Two months?”
“At the least,” you say with a held breath.
“At the most?” Minghao asks hopefully.
You purse your lips. “At the most? … A year?”
“A year? That’s more than a whole racing season!”
“Yes but neck strains are fickle and we can’t let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you really—”
“I think I know the nature of my own sport,” Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you don’t know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.
“I—” you pause, “I understand your frustration Mr.—Minghao, but my job is to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.”
Something about those last few words rings in Minghao’s ears, and he zones out for the rest of what you’re saying.
Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.
Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and you’re not quite sure if it’s out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.
“Make sure you practice those movements every day,” you note once you near the end of today’s session. “I’ll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and it’ll hopefully speed up the recovery process.”
“Thanks,” Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.
“Is there anything else you’re doing in your free time right now?” you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.
“Not really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.”
You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. “I sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,” you tell him casually.
Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. “… Crocheting?”
“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. “You know, with yarn and stuff.”
“I know what crocheting is.”
“I-I know,” you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. “You won’t have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so it’s fine.”
“But why?”
“It’s fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you can’t move around a lot. Plus, it’s always good to have something to distract yourself from—” You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. “—from shitty stuff, y’know?”
Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause. “Shitty stuff, huh?”
You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shitty stuff.”
“You and your stupid Americanos,” you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.
“Stop acting like you don’t indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning … I should blame you for this addiction!”
“So you admit it’s an addiction!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.
It’s only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, “Honey lavender latte!” With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.
Frowning, you look up at the man who’s holding your drink before you say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I think that’s my drink.”
“Uh, honey lavender latte? I’m pretty sure I ordered this,” he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink that’s in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. “It’s for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.”
“Oh,” you breath out, figuring that it probably isn’t a lie. “S-sorry for the misunderstanding. I just—” you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the man’s shoulders wither away. “I ordered the same thing—”
“Oh sorry, I—my friend isn’t here yet so you can just take this and I’ll wait for the other to come out,” he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. “Hey wait, you look really familiar,” he murmurs.
Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. “Uh, are you sure? I’m sorry, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.
The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. “No, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, but I’m just blanking on it right now—sorry this is probably so weird but—” The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see who’s coming in, eyes lighting up. “Oh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!”
Hao? Mingh—
You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.
The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. “Hansol,” he greets with a small smile, and it’s a pleasant sight to see your patient—who’s more often monotone than not—seem a bit more at ease than before.
“How’re you doing? Was just waiting on your drink and—” the man—Hansol—points at you with eyes as wide as saucers, “—oh by the way, doesn’t she look really familiar?”
You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. “Yeah, she’s kinda like my physiotherapist dude.”
This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk that’s just barely there on Minghao’s lips, and Hansol’s agape stare.
“Ohh shit, yeah that’s where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,” Vernon explains as the realization hits him.
“Oh,” you laugh lightly. “That’s funny,” you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, “Good to see you’re getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,” you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, he’d nod his head.
For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, “Yeah, it’s refreshing.” His eyes wander around you, taking in how you aren’t dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. “Is that my drink?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee you’ve just taken a sip of.
Hansol laughs and shakes his head. “You two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let ‘er have it, since you weren’t here yet.” He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. “Shit, I think I left my laptop in my car,” he murmurs, looking at his friend. “I’m gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.”
“Yeah, that’s chill,” Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. It’s a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.
“Hey, it’s actually really funny that you’re seeing me right now because—well it’s not funny funny, but it’s a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny but—anyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.” You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. “Cool, right?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty. Nice color scheme and all,” Minghao agrees.
“Thanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,” you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. “Oh, you wait there; I’ll get it,” you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghao’s drink and hand it back to his left hand.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. “Isn’t your friend waiting for you?”
“Of course I have to. I’m your doctor! I can’t make you do that,” you reason before pointing back at your best friend. “And are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like he’s having the time of his life doing—” You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, “—doing god knows what on his phone and—”
“Are you talking about me?” you hear Seungkwan’s voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. “All good things I hope!” he continues.
“You know it!” you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwan’s rolling eyes. “That little shit. I pay his bills!” you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.
Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.
“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly.
If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, “Are you seriously apologizing for being funny?”
You roll your eyes. “I’m retracting my apology.”
It’s been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. He’s warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.
It’s still a bit awkward at times—skitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, you’ve gotten used to it.
Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. “Morning,” he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.
“Ooh, thank you,” you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. “I’ve been craving this,” you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.
“Your welcome,” Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. “Anyways, I found something cool that I don’t think you told me.”
You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. “Yeah? What is it?”
“You and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!”
You roll your eyes. “Why do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? He’s told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didn’t, it’s awkward when you say his full name like that.”
Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. “Because he’s Xu Minghao. I can’t believe you aren’t still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.”
“You want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?”
“Ugh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever,” you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.
“Anyways, you didn’t answer what I actually said. Why didn’t you tell me you guys are from the same area? That’s so cool!”
“I mean I guess,” you say with a shrug.
“And you guys are the same age so—wait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys like—I don’t know, long lost best friends or something?” Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be so cool—I could totally see a movie on this and—wait! If he’s your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!”
You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. “We did go to school together,” you admit. “It’s not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I don’t know, existed back then. So no worries for you, you’re not getting replaced any time soon … unfortunately,” you add with mischievous giggle.
“Better not …” Seungkwan huffs.
Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.
“So things are going really well,” you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. You’re about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. “H-hey, Minghao?” you ask, clearing your voice when he doesn’t respond. “Minghao.”
His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”
You chuckle nervously, wondering if it’s okay if you probe just a little. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Just thinking about last night’s race.”
“Oh, Singapore?”
“Yeah.”
“I was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense though—you see Kim’s pit stop?”
“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but he’s continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. “He’s been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what it’s supposed to be.”
“Can’t imagine how frustrating it is.” Fuck, when Minghao’s shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldn’t have.
I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly instead.
Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.
“Uh—” Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. “I have good news.”
“Oh?”
“We can get you out of the neck brace today,” you tell him happily.
Minghao’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“Yeah, your progress has been great. Didn’t want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and you’re at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.”
Minghao grins, and it’s a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.
“How’s it feeling?” you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.
Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. “Like my skin can finally breathe,” he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.
“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.
“All done?” he asks. When you nod, he continues. “Kinda early, huh?” he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.
“Oh yeah, uh—actually … I was wondering if you wanted to try something?” you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. “If you have the time.”
Raising a brow, he nods. “Yeah I don’t mind, what is it?”
“One second,” you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. “Just some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,” you murmur, placing it down on the counter.
Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. “Oh, uh—I haven’t really … I haven’t taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uh—”
“Oh yeah,” you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. There’s some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. “I figured—it’s pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,” you sigh. “I think it’ll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who can’t do their regular activities and hobbies … and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you don’t like it, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you the ropes,” you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.
Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, “Sure, why not.”
“Okay great,” you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.
Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You can’t quite tell if he’s being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, you’re thankful. Soon, you’re showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.
“Yeah, just do that and—wait,” you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way he’s holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he can’t quite name. “You got that?” you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry, zoned out again. What was that?”
“Singapore really got you thinking, huh?” you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.
“Sorry, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didn’t fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.”
Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. “Crochet … through … the pain?”
“That sounded cooler in my head, my bad.”
Minghao laughs. It’s not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, it’s a laugh. And it’s bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way you’d rather ignore. “It’s okay.”
“Anyways … here, I’ll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then we’ll take things from there,” you instruct.
Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. He’s intuitive, but it’s not that you expect much different—you figure no one can get to the level he’s at without being quick to pick up on things.
You’re soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. “Yeah, now you just gotta yarn over like this—no, the other way, just like that … and—yeah … yeah!” you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. “You got it!”
“Really?” Minghao asks. “Simpler than I thought,” he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.
“Yeah … crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing,” you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.
He watches you carefully—the way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, and—
“You’re really good at this,” Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear he’s so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what you’re doing to look up at him.
“My mother taught me. It’s been a casual hobby ever since.”
You feel Minghao’s eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if he’ll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray he’ll keep his mouth shut.
Minghao doesn’t say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.
You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. He’s your patient for fuck’s sake—you should be happy he’s not holed up in here everyday.
Still, there’s a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.
Minghao, and the way he’s so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.
“We’re going to try some new mobility exercises today,” you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghao’s ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.
“Really?”
You smile and nod in return. “Yeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.” Minghao doesn’t really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.
In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and you’re almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.
“How are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?” you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.
“No, not like pain pain,” he says casually, leaning back into the chair. “Not the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.”
“Okay great,” you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. “We’ll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.”
“Thanks. What’s the next exercise?” Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmness—he’s been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and it’s bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.
You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. It’s going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.
Right now you’re about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesn’t make any abrasive movements.
“There we go,” you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. “Why don’t you try it by yourself?”
Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. He’s going through the motions of everything pretty normally—after all this is just like any other exercise so he doesn’t really worry that much until—fuck.
Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.
So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.
“Talk to me,” you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.
“It h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,” Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he can’t read from where he sits. “Is this like—” He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves don’t get to him. “—is it bad?” When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. “Fuck.”
“Look, it’s just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but we’re just going to need to take it slower since you’ve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.”
“So I’ve been set back, basically,” Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.
“Not a setback …” you sigh. “Just a sign that we need to go slower right now.” You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesn’t meet your gaze.
“So a setback.”
You gulp. “You can’t think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear and—”
“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. “This is—fuck, this my career okay? I can’t afford any setbacks.”
“I know that and that’s why I’m your doctor, okay?” you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.
You don’t understand why you’re letting his hostility get to your head all of sudden—it isn’t like you haven’t had frustrated patients before. Fuck, you’ve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.
“I’m here to help you,” you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. “But I can only do that if you let me.”
Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. There’s a growing knot that ties in his throat, and he’s too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.
“Sorry,” he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. “I’m leaving.”
You don’t stop him as he walks away.
When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, he’s not surprised to see that you aren’t the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time he’d seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.
Were you avoiding him? He wouldn’t blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldn’t let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.
Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? It’s not like there haven’t been sessions where you weren’t there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that there’s something he should be worried about.
As if he could read Minghao’s mind, Jeonghan speaks up. “Doc’ll come in around the end. It’s her mom’s birthday so she’s out for most of the afternoon, but she’ll be back for the last half an hour,” he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
“H-her—” Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not here. Something feels wrong. “That’s fine,” he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.
He can feel Jeonghan’s curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesn’t move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.
It’s nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before there’s a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.
“Good afternoon Minghao,” you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.
“Oh—uh, hey.”
Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? That’s all he could muster up? Hey?
“Jeonghan gave me the rundown,” you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. “No more sharp pains … returning mobilily …”
You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghao’s gaze. He wonders if that’s what you intended. “Seeing as things are going smoothly for now, we’ll continue with the low-risk exercises and—”
“I’m sorry,” Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.
“Mi—”
“I’m sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”
Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. He’s said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.
“It’s okay,” you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.
You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting over—
Minghao shouldn’t think like this.
“Jeonghan told me that it’s your mom’s birthday,” he finally breaks the silence. It’s the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it all—fuck, it’s hitting you so hard that there’s already tears pooling in yout lashline.
You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. It’s okay, it isn’t like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.
“Mhm,” you hum, hoping he doesn’t probe any deeper. You aren’t sure what you should say.
You’re silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things he’s been thinking about you but he just can’t. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.
Fuck, what should he say? “I’m um—I’m glad. Glad that she’s uh—that everything worked out.” That’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that statement, Minghao’s almost sure of it so … so why in the world are you crying?
Shoot, did he fuck up? You’re sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.
Oh.
The first time you meet Xu Minghao, you’re in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.
He’s got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that there’s a new student in class. His name’s “Xu Minghao,” she said.
You don’t really remember his name at first. It isn’t uncommon for there to be new students on campus. He’s not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.
Five years later and you’re in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.
You’re paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.
“Do you want to write a paper, or do the poster?” you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. “I don’t really mind either or,” you admit.
Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. “Poster? I think I’ve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,” he tells you with an obvious sigh.
“Yeah,” you laugh. “Were you in Biology?”
He nods. “Regretfully.”
“Oh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.”
“Ditto,” Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. I’m so happy we’re in our final semester.”
“So we agree on no paper, just the poster?” you finalize.
Minghao agrees, “Yeah, that’s great.”
One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. “Cool set up,” he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.
You grin. “Thanks—I kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.”
“Seems like I made a good choice then,” he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. “I did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.”
“That’s great,” you say, picking a pen. “Let’s get started then?”
You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, you’ve noticed. His friends are quite fun—you’ve seen him with them in the hallways sometimes—but you start to realize that Minghao doesn’t let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.
You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and you’re just about to bring up one of your ideas. “So over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and then—” You’re cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. He’s looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.
“Mom’s starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday so—oh, sorry,” Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. “Come to my room when you’re done,” he mutters before turning on his heel.
The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.
You don’t say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. “So back to what I was saying …”
The next time you work on the poster, it’s at Minghao’s house.
You wear a blue gown at graduation. It’s a sunny day in June, and you’re sweating a little through the silk fabric, but it’s okay.
Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes can’t help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said she’d try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.
It’s okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no it’s not, no it’s not, no it’s fucking not.
You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peers’ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When you’re finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you can’t find the voice in your throat to join them.
Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.
“Fuck!” you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.
“I don’t understand what you’re going through,” Minghao finally says. “I won’t pretend I do either, but it’ll be okay.” He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghao’s own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.
You cry. You cry harder than you think you’ve ever cried before.
You don’t know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe it’s the way he holds you. Maybe it’s the way he smells. Maybe it’s everything, but whatever it is or isn’t, you don’t stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.
And then, you hear Beomgyu’s voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. There’s a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.
You don’t say a word as you step back—the only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.
You don’t see Minghao’s face until it’s seven years later and he’s plastered on the screen as SECTOR’s newest recruit. He’s got phenomenal potential as an F1 racer—greatest new talent in a while—you hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger who’s held you tighter than anyone before.
The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room C—you had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghao—that the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.
It’s the next day when you’re back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and you’re sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.
Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that can’t be possible because they always let you know when they’re heading out and—
“Doc!” you hear Seungkwan’s voice call out to you from down the hall. “Could you come here for a sec’?”
Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. “What is i—oh.” The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.
Something in your stomach churns at the sight of him—eyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that it’ll ground you in reality.
Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.
“I need to talk to you,” he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s gazes burn into the back of your skull.
Glancing at them, you point to the door. “You guys can take your lunch break now,” you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. “Let’s go to Room C?”
He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.
You can hear the words already coming together on his tongue—I’m sorry—and so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.
“I’m sorry,” you say, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”
“No, I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea you—” Minghao stops himself. He doesn’t know how much is too much.
It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since graduation.”
“Me too,” you respond in an instant. “I see so much of myself in you,” you tell him.
“Stop, I—our situations aren’t comparable and—”
“Let me be the judge of that, yeah?” you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. “When everything is going wrong and you’re so angry, and you’re blaming all the wrong people but you can’t help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”
“Yeah.”
You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. “I get it, okay?” you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. “It’ll be okay.”
The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.
“I’ve thought about you everyday since then.” The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “Even when she passed away a few months later.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him, stroking his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry—you were right. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
“I—I’m sorry, I just—”
Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you can’t comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.
And so you kiss him.
You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.
And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against you—he understands and you want to cry again because he’s always understood, and so you don’t cry but only kiss him deeper.
“I made you something,” he admits. “It’s in the car.”
You’re thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.
He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. It’s hardly big enough to cover your lower half but it’s bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you can’t seem to stop this time.
“Did you—did you make this?” you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.
“Crocheted it myself,” he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks he’s done a poor job—you could probably do better—but you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. “You’ve helped me so much,” he says instead.
“Fuck,” you mutter over harsh breaths. “Y-you made this.”
“You taught me,” he corrects, and that’s when the dam breaks.
And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell he’s being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, “Don’t move so much!” but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.
You crumble into happiness because through everything you’ve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.
“I don’t think I can come here on Sunday next week,” you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. You’re leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.
Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. “Are you serious? Why?”
“Yes I’m serious,” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “My brother’s visiting town for a bit.”
“And I can’t meet him, why?” Minghao asks with a raised brow.
You laugh. “Good point. I haven’t told him I’m dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend who’s SECTOR’s best racer, might I add,” you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.
“It would be a good surprise though, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,” you shoot sarcastically. “But seriously. I’ll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really can’t see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.”
“Got it,” Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.
“I fucking hate not being able to do anything,” he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His condition’s gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.
He’s been restless ever since, you’ve started to notice. “Do I really need to wait?” he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.
You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yes! I told you—it’s a part of the process.”
“Fuck the process, I wanna drive again!”
“Too bad I guess,” you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghao’s name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.
Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.
“Hey! I was watching th—”
“Do you ever stop complaining?” you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghao’s dismay. “Stop moving,” you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.
“What are you do—oh.” You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.
“You’re so restless,” you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.
“O-okay,” Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe that’s still covered by his shirt.
You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cock—all of him aching just for you—you start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isn’t having Minghao’s cock in your mouth.
“Careful with the right arm, ‘kay?” you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.
“Y-yeah—fuck baby,” Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.
Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. “Go on baby,” he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. “Put it in …” he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows he’s too far gone to be saved.
“You’re so hard Hao,” you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.
“Fuck, just like that baby,” Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.
He’s so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongue—Minghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.
And he isn’t faring quite well above you either—his hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way it’s swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on him—he’s going fucking crazy.
“Baby—oh baby,” the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, it’s got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but he’s moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just can’t seem to fucking stop.
“Shit, shit, shit—baby, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.
You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you can’t with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.
“Oh—fuck, I’m—”
When Minghao cums, it’s with his chest singing your name. Breathy moans—calls for you—as you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.
And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanket—like the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to make—and you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isn’t any other place you’d rather be.
a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^
#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen angst#svt angst#minghao smut#minghao x reader#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao smut#xu minghao fanfic#xu minghao angst#minghao angst#the8 x reader#the8 angst#📝 writing#flight of the stars
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Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:
This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:
First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)
These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.
I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.
This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.
Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.
This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.
If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.
With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.
Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can
Food
Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).
This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.
Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.
(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)
Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.
The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.
And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.
It's What Humans Do
In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).
He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).
What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.
But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.
Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?
Angels, Demons, & Asexuality
Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.
Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)
And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).
The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.
I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.
Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.
Except...
Brielzebub
We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.
For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.
And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).
Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.
Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.
Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction
But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?
And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.
At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).
So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?
I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.
After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)
Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.
However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".
Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.
I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.
But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.
(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)
More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.
Aziraphale's Hedonism
Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.
It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.
Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.
Dancing
I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.
I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.
We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.
(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)
As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.
Love Languages
I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.
We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.
You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.
The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).
And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.
So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.
So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.
"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"
Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.
First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")
(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)
More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.
Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.
The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).
Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.
Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.
The Birds & The Bees
Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.
Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.
Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.
The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma
The Kiss. Where to even begin?
This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.
Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.
It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.
Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.
Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.
So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.
I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.
What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.
All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.
(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)
Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).
Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.
In Conclusion
I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.
So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.
You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.
But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.
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Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post
#pinned post bc I'm particularly proud of how it turned out and i don't want it to get buried when people check out my blog lol#Good omens#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#good omens season 2 spoilers#good omens 2#good omens 2 spoilers#gos#gos spoilers#gos2#gos2 spoilers#gomens#gomens spoilers#gomens 2#gomens 2 spoilers#good omens s2 spoilers#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#aziraphale#crowley#mine#meta#character analysis#character study#discourse#making an effort#this literally took me a week to finish i really hope it doesn't sound stupid lol#i know I'm gonna wake up in a cold sweat every couple days bc i forgot to add something but i needed this out of my drafts and also my brain
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kinktober !
kink: tentacles
pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader
wc: 2.3k
tentacle kink: a sexual interest in tentacles and the imagined creatures that have them.
It had to work. You would die if it didn’t work.
Then again, you’d probably die if it did work. You’re trying to summon Slenderman, after all. No one would understand why except for you. You’ve always had an affinity for all things macabre and dangerous, and maybe you’re a little messed up. After deep diving on Reddit, you were more than dubious that the creature actually existed. You had to find out. You had to see for yourself.
Clearly not that bad, because you hadn’t gone into the woods like they’d told you to online. The October weather was ultimately too cold to be trekking through branches and fallen leaves, even to try and summon your favourite Creepypasta entity - you did the second option instead, drawing a quick symbol on your wall with marker and all of the lights turned out.
The poem felt a little silly coming from your lips, despite Reddit users insisting it’s mandatory for the summoning. It felt even sillier when you stared at the symbol, barely visible through the moonlight flooding in beyond the curtains, but you had to persevere. If he was real, he’d come to your room and meet you. If he was real.
You ended the poem, finally opening your eyes and sighing. You blinked at the wall, quickly looking around the room. What a load of bullshit. Slenderman isn’t real, then. You’d proved it for yourself, and-
“This is fucking ridiculous,” There was a thud behind you, and you spun around on your bed, hazily trying to see who had joined you in your room. You reached over with a squeak, flicking your lamp on. There, in what almost looked like the Slenderman from your dreams - a man, dressed in a suit and dark, ebony hair pushed back from his forehead. He kicked an imaginary stone with his shoe, shoving his broad hands into his pockets and finally looking up at you. He blinked at you a few times, and then raised an eyebrow. “Why are you scared? Did you not ask for this?”
You huffed. “Well, you’re not Slenderman.”
The man groaned, head rolling back. He cracked his neck effortlessly on both sides, and then stared back into your eyes. His gaze was piercing, dark and feeling all too consuming. “I am- I’m like his brother, but not in the way you humans adhere to. He sends me for cases like yours. Minor, petty things.”
“Cases like mine?” You scoffed, resisting the urge to punch the man in his annoyingly attractive face. He wandered over to your desk, wholly unaffected, and started to flick through your diary. “Hey-!”
“Cases like yours,” He repeated, a small smile flickering on his lips at one of the pages. “Sexually charged cases. You are a little fucked up, aren’t you?”
You bristled. You knew exactly what page he was looking at. Your diary was for mundane things, your day-to-day life, but it was also where you detailed your more… late night fantasies. Recently, some rather obscure things had been taking up the majority of your brain, and maybe that’s what had pushed you to summon Slenderman. You’d never admit that, though.
In all honesty, this guy was kind of hot. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious atmosphere about him, if he was clearly otherworldly judging from his alabaster skin, or if it was his long legs in those suit trousers. If you were of a different state of mind, you’d have believed he was the entity you were trying to reach. There was just one thing.
“Aren’t you a bit short to be related to Slenderman?”
The man stopped. He sighed, and then shut the diary, before turning to you with one long, accusing finger. “First off, I’m not that short. Secondly, I told you, it’s not the same as what you humans think siblings are. Also, I don’t have to prove myself to you.”
You grinned. “You just tried though, right?”
He rolled his eyes, stalking over to the bed. “I think I’ll kill you sooner than I planned. You’re rude.”
“You’re rude too,” You huffed, trying to kick him in the leg from your position on your bed. Instead of catching it with his hands, a pitch-black tentacle sprouted from his back and wrapped around your ankle, effectively pinning it down and rendering you motionless. You gasped, and he raised an eyebrow. “What the-”
“We do have some similarities,” The man began, drawing the tentacle tighter. “We’re of the same species, for one. I suppose I’m not as prestigious as him, but you seem happy enough to have me here, right?”
You blinked. “I would actually prefer if you left, in all honesty.”
“Can’t,” He shrugged, withdrawing the tentacle. Your ankle flopped back to the bed and you grabbed it instinctively, slightly disappointed to feel no traces of the slimy limb. “I need to kill you. It’s in the rulebook, you know? Once you’ve seen one of us, you have to die, or my mission will fail.”
What were you meant to do in this situation? You didn’t really want to die. You hadn’t thought the whole thing through at all. You’d expected to just see traces of the entity, perhaps catch him from the corner of your eye - you were instead left with a sexy long-limbed man standing in front of your bed, basked in the soft orange glow of your bedside lamp.
“Why kill me when you could fuck me instead?” You’d said the first thing that came to mind. The man’s jaw dropped, before it quickly reverted back to normal, his head tilting to the side in confusion.
“You are pretty weird, aren’t you? Unusual. A little fucked up, like I said.”
“That wasn’t a no,” You hummed. The man’s eyes burnt a trail down your legs, exposed in your sleep shorts, and then his eyes were fixated on a patch of skin revealed on your shoulder from where your shirt had slipped to the side. You scoffed, yanking the shirt back into place. “Oh my God, you want to, don’t you?! That’s why you haven’t left!”
He shrugged. “I’ve never fucked a human. It could be fun.”
You blanched. Okay, you hadn’t expected to get this far. After you had, though… Well, he had tentacles. That was something from your deepest, darkest desires, something that you would try to push to the back of your brain and scrunch your eyes shut tightly with your hand shoved down your pyjama trousers. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. You were already getting wet, clit throbbing with need.
He started to move towards you. First, it was one knee on the bed, and then the other joined, starting a slow crawl that resulted in his face getting closer. You hadn’t realised you were moving closer, too, and you gulped. “What’s- what’s your name?”
The man chuckled, face only inches from yours now. His face looked young, you noticed, yet his eyes held a wildfire inside as if there was so much you didn’t know. There was so much you wanted to know. “Seungmin.”
You had no time to debate it, because his lips were pressing against yours. They were soft, plush, and you found yourself whimpering into his kiss. He’d effectively shut you up. Without a second passing, Seungmin was dominating your mouth, pressing his tongue in and rolling it against yours. How did just a kiss feel so good?
You let him push you back into the sheets, forearms landing on your pillow either side of your head for purchase. He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to tangle in your hair as he held you in place. You felt your pussy flutter, achingly horny despite the lack of stimulation, and your breath caught in your chest.
Seungmin pulled away and you licked your lips, chest heaving. “I.. can I see them?”
“See what?” He mused, thumb brushing along your lower lip. One look at the amused expression on his face told you that he knew.
“The…” You gulped, legs parting to allow him closer to you. His bulge was thick, pressing tightly against your core. “The tentacles, Seungmin. Can I see them? How many are there?”
“Four, baby,” He leaned down, nipping at your neck. You gasped, hips bucking up, choosing not to comment on the pet name in your haze of lust. “I can put one in your pussy, one in your asshole and one in your mouth. How’s that? Is that dirty enough for you?”
You whimpered, grinding on his bulge. Seungmin allowed it, hands moving to your hips to aid your movement. It had your sleep shorts slipping around, fabric sticking to the wetness accumulated on your folds. You whined, arms thrashing until they settled around his broad shoulders, still clad in his expensive-looking suit. “What about your cock, Seungmin?”
“My cock?” Seungmin scoffed, running his tongue up your neck. It made you squirm, thighs clenching around his slender waist. His hair tickled your skin, dark and perfect as if he’d spent hours styling it. You knew he hadn’t. “I can fuck you without needing to cum, baby. I doubt I can say the same for you.”
“No, I’ll- I’ll probably cum as soon as you put one in, to be honest,” You admitted, cheeks burning crimson with embarrassment.
“Hmm, that makes a lot of sense,” Seungmin reached down, yanking your sleeping shorts down. It bared your pussy to the room, cold air hitting your clit and the slick on your pussy. It made you jolt, squeaking as Seungmin saw you in such an intimate way. “You’re wet. Are you feeling impatient? Needy, even?”
“Yes! Yes, God, I need it,” You huffed, spreading your thighs further. You were practically spread eagle now, and you ran your fingertips over the soft expanse of your tummy, just barely visible below your shirt. You continued the journey down your body, looking up at Seungmin with pleading eyes, and then you pressed two fingers into your clit. You flinched, wailing at the stimulation. “Ah, I’m so horny, I’m so horny, what the fuck-”
“Stay still, I’ll give it to you,” Seungmin murmured, and then you caught sight of them again. Four pitch-black tentacles sprouted from his back, seeming to forego his clothes and then one was tickling at your entrance. You moaned, because were they suckers?
It was easy to learn that yes, his tentacles had suckers, and he was now brushing one over your clit. You obediently moved your hands out of the way, back to their position on his shoulders. It sucked onto the swollen bundle of nerves with ease, and just as you started to squirm, another tentacle was pressing into your tight, drippy hole. You could feel the amount of slick you’d gushed beneath you, ruining your bed and quite possibly ruining you for any other man. The appendage itself was lubed, brushing through your own wetness and creating a filthy noise that rang throughout your bedroom.
“Don’t squirm,” Seungmin commanded, hand running up your thigh comfortingly. The tentacle pushed in further, and you clenched, wet, heavy breaths coming from your mouth. “That’s it, good girl. Let it push inside you, just like that.”
The tentacle was narrow at the tip, but it flared much further out after an inch or so. The stretch made your pussy leak even more than what was imaginable. You didn’t think you’d ever been this wet. The appendage was long, but Seungmin kept pushing more and more until you were taking around five inches of it, and you whined, reaching down to press at his stomach.
“Too big, too much,” You protested, but Seungmin shushed you, pressing a kiss into your cheek.
“Your pussy’s just too little, baby. Too tight,” He grunted, and then he pushed another inch in. “Take it. Take it for me, and I might think about giving you my cock later.”
“Your- would you?” Your eyes were teary, toes curling into the bed. “Been good. Tryin’ to take it, ‘s just- it’s so thick, so long. Seungmin, Seungmin, sir, sir, you said you- you’re not gonna kill me?”
“How can I kill such a sweet thing?” His hand moved to your cheek, before moving down, wrapping around your neck. The pressure was light, but very much there, making you moan out into your room. “You’re whining so pretty for me. Calling me sir, taking this just like it’s my cock. You’re dirty. I have to keep you around, don’t I?”
You nodded, legs thrashing on the bed. Your chest heaved, a blotchy pink rash overtaking your skin. “It’s good, it’s so good, so thick, oh- Oh, I think I might…?”
“You think you’re gonna cum?” Seungmin scoffed. “Already? Alright, do it. I’ll let you. Just this once, okay?”
You keened, hands gripping onto his shoulders. Your fingernails must have been digging into him almost painfully, but he didn’t flinch, staring straight at you with the same dark, piercing gaze. Your pussy clenched down, tight and fluttering, and then you were-
You gasped, eyes fluttering open as you attempted to look around your bedroom. The sun had just begun to rise, but your boyfriend was awake, and pulled you into his chest upon seeing your eyes open.
“Sounded like hell of a dream,” Seungmin smirked, his eyebrow raising. You bit your lip, staring up at him. “Was it about me?”
“Always is,” You mumbled, burying your face in his shirt. He chuckled, shoulders shaking as he rubbed down your back with a tender, broad hand. “It was dirty.”
“Yeah? Another reenactment of how we first met?”
You sighed, brushing your hand down one of his tentacles. It laid bare on your bed, and twitched with approval as you fidgeted with it.
“Yeah, something like that.”
#hyunsvngbinitober !#kim seungmin smut#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfics#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin fanfic#kim seungmin fic#seungmin x reader#seungmin fanfic#seungmin smut#skz scenarios#skz smut#skz imagines#skz x reader
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What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior
Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.
We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.
There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.
And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)
You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.
One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.
Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.
So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.
It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.
He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.
Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.
Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.
Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.
And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.
A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.
Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.
Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.
Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.
He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.
In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.
This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)
He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.
And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.
“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”
He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.
#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#141 headcanons#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#drabble#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#moongreenlight#moongreenlightwrites
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Hello, author-san! How are you? Could I please request some angst for the poly!marauders, where R is someone full of tattoos or piercings but is smart, a sweetheart, golden retriever coded, and Lily is their friend. Lily knows about their infatuation with the boys. Being a great friend, Lily wants to set them up, but they're a bit uncertain about R because of their tattoos. Then one night, R overhears them talking in the common room with Lily and voices out their opinions regarding R, causing R to become insecure and try to hide it. You can continue however you like! Angst with a happy ending if it's okay! 🥺
Thank you, author-san!
💀🌻
Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Sorry it took so long, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, pre-relationship
cw: prejudice associated with tattoos and piercings, swearing, angst to happy ending
1.8k words (oopsie)
It was like you could hear their words on repeat as you raced up the stairs. What hurt the most is that you knew that some people would judge, but you hadn’t expected it from them.
“I just don’t know about 'em, Lils.” James winced. “Like they seem nice, but you know about people who choose to look at that…” He trailed off.
“I’m sure they’re not all bad.” Sirius cut in, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “But Prongs does have a point.”
“It’s just the impulsivity of it all.” Remus reasoned. “Like if you’re making rash choices like that, what else would you do.”
That was when you left your hiding spot in the stairs and ran back to your dorm. You could hear Lily’s ‘I’m so fucking done with you being stupid’ voice as you trailed away, making you smile at the knowledge that you had such a good friend.
But you had heard enough. They had clearly made their minds up about you. Besides, you knew your appearance was an… acquired taste, to say the least, and you couldn’t expect them to be with someone they weren’t attracted to. You didn’t think you looked that odd, but maybe your perception was skewed. No matter whose perception was more accurate, they clearly didn’t particularly like you, and it was probably best to keep your distance for now, at least until they really got to know you.
You knew that your appearance didn’t really match your personality. People often assumed you were rude, a slacker, confrontational, or even hateful. But the opposite was true in fact. You always made good marks, you were friends with loads of people, always trying to be as open as possible. And yeah, some people were intimidated at first, but they usually warmed up very quickly.
Apparently those three, the three you wanted the approval of the most, had not been as warm about you as you thought.
You crawled into bed and curled into yourself, trying to get a few hours of sleep before breakfast.
James yawned loudly, blinking his eyes rapidly to get rid of the sleepy, fuzzy film coating them. Him and his boyfriends had been up all night, getting lectured literally until the sun came up.
He had to admit, it was for the best. All three boys had gone to bed, feeling thoroughly corrected. Even slipping into shame.
“What the hell is wrong with you three?” Lily whisper-yelled. “James, you are the LAST person to say anything about appearances. Remember when I had to go around convincing people you hadn’t become mean after your growth spurt in fourth year? Just because you were big and scary and you hadn’t realized how you were coming across?” She scolded, before turning her head to the mouse-haired boy sitting by the fire. “And you,” She seethed. “You have no clue if her choices were ‘rash’ or not. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about your appearance, people saying similar things about you. About your ‘aggression’ just because they don’t know what’s going on with you.” She snapped her head over to Sirius, her fiery hair flipping around from the movement. “And Sirius, you’re just overcompensating because you’re jealous! You’re not fooling anyone, you would look like that in an instant if you could. You’re just too scared to do it.”
Sirius played with his thumbs, not able to dispute the accusations. None of the boys could actually. Lily could tell, she was satisfied with her work.
“I love you three buggers,” She pressed a friendly kiss to each of their cheeks as she stormed upstairs. “You just need to stop being such idiots.”
Sirius didn’t think anyone could change personalities that fast, but it seemed all three boys had woken up different people. That morning they had all just nodded to each other, acknowledging that their opinions were very different than they had been 24 hours ago and all walked shamefacedly down to breakfast. Sirius kept pushing his eggs around his plate, too busy staring at you to take a bite. You looked a lot different today. Your hair was ruffled in front of your face, hiding the metal glinting on your nose and eyebrow. You also had long sleeves and pants on, covering the ink detailing your skin. You still hadn’t waved at them, or even acknowledged the boys’ existence. Usually, you would be bouncing over to them, talking about the weather or whatever was on your mind at the moment. Sirius missed it if he was honest with himself. He was disappointed, he had been excited to show you his outfit. He crafted it with you in mind, teasing his hair up extra and being a bit more outlandish with his top, even stealing Marlene’s varnish to paint his nails.
Remus missed your interest in the latest book he had read. You always had so many interesting questions and you listened so intently. He missed how you played with the hoop in your septum as you nodded along to his plot summaries. You were always so patient and careful, it made his heart crack.
James was equally distraught. He had always prided himself on being open and friends with everyone, and he had considered you his friend, which just made him feel worse. He knew that stereotyping people never led to anything good, especially when someone's personality was completely ignored and replaced with caricature. Yes, you did look intimidating, but he actually liked it. It accentuated how soft your personality actually was. You were like a big dog that everyone was terrified of, but in reality was scared of butterflies and just wanted to love everyone. He laughed sadly, catching the other two boys' attention as he stared longingly at you. All he wanted to do was go over there, but you were completely ignoring them, so he figured it was best to just not bother you and continue on with his breakfast.
You were being equally as forlorn, continually sneaking glances over at the boys. They looked quiet and tired, but no less handsome. You felt sick, moving to leave your breakfast and all but run to the library. You needed to study anyway, you had become so infatuated that you were ignoring your classes. You had barely made it down the corridor before you heard three sets of panicked footsteps, quickly catching up to you. You tried to walk faster, but unfortunately Remus had very long legs and he briskly made it in front of you, trapping you in. He was looking flushed, amber eyes focusing on you way too much for comfort.
“Y/N,” He sounded out of breath. You fixed your face down and back, away from their gaze. You stopping had allowed the other two the opportunity to catch up, and soon you were face-to-face with all three of the people who apparently disliked you, but to your dismay, you were still completely attached to.
“You guys okay?” You asked, as kindly as ever but far quieter than they were used to.
“We’re fine, lovely.” James said, confused. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” You muttered, shifting your feet.
“Babe,” Sirius scoffed. Your heart jumped at the honorific, but you quickly scolded yourself. Sirius just called everyone that. You had heard what he, what all three of them had said last night. “You ran from there like bat outta’ hell.” He said like you were being ridiculous.
“And you haven’t spoken to us all day.” Remus cut in before you could respond.
“It’s only seven.” You mumbled.
“Still odd.” James quipped, moving ever so slightly closer to you. “You’re not okay.” He said, with enough finality that you gave up the act all together. They really weren’t going to make this easy on you. They said all those things last night, but they were still going to put you through the misery of having to listen to them say all those things directly to you.
You sighed dejectedly, starting to pick your nails. “Look okay,” You tore the words from the back of your throat. “I know that you don’t like me or don’t think I’m nice or whatever. You don’t have to talk to me, it’s okay.” You did your best to give them a reassuring smile, even managing for water to stay out of your eyes, but their expressions didn’t make it easy. Sirius cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose, James looked like a kicked puppy, and Remus was hiding his eyes from you. You started to walk away, but you were blocked in.
“Shit, you heard last night?” Sirius winced. You nodded painfully, looking back down at your shoes. The silent tension was so thick you felt it suffocating you. James was the first to do anything, wordlessly striding over to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. You stumbled from the shock, easing into him accidentally, but you made no moves to tense away. You limply wrapped your arms around his waist.
“I’m so sorry, angel.” He said, panicked. “I was so stupid, I- I never should’ve said it I don’t know what I was even thinking.” He pulled you tighter to him, enough that you were worried of your feet leaving the ground.
“I’m sorry too.” Sirius said, much more morosely than usual. “Never should’ve said those things, and you never should've heard it either.”
“We’re all sorry.” Remus said firmly. “We all know better, we should’ve known not to think that way. It’s awfully closed-minded. You’re our friend, we should’ve acted like it.”
“It’s okay.” You squeezed out.
“No.” Sirius said sharply. “It’s not okay. I don’t know if you heard what Lily said back, but she pointed out a lot of things, and I can promise that we don’t think that way anymore.”
“Please, please forgive us, baby. We were so wrong. You’re so kind and smart and funny and gorgeous an-” James was rambling on and on.
“Jamie, it’s okay. I know you’re sorry.” You giggled at his panicked tone. “Can you uh- you’re kinda crushing me.”
“Shit! Sorry.” He released you quickly, but not before slicking your hair out of your face. You just laughed, feeling ten times lighter.
“We’re okay.” You reassured. “I forgive you all, it hurt, but it seems like you are all beating yourselves up enough.”
“Jus’ feel bad.” Remus grabbed you unexpectedly, tugging you into his arms. He wasn’t squeezing you like James, but rather greedily absorbing your touch. This felt like a big deal, you almost never saw Remus hold anyone.
“Don’t feel bad.” You pleaded. “Everything’s fine now.” You rubbed his back in a way you hoped was soothing. You felt him relax in your arms.
“Okay stop hogging them.” Sirius tugged Remus out of the way, making him grunt in dissatisfaction. (You pretended to not notice the sneaky kiss Sirius pressed to the taller boy’s knuckles.) “It’s my turn.” He grabbed you with loving aggression.
“I wasn’t hogging.” Remus quipped.
“Yeah, you were.” Sirius sassed. “Besides, I was the biggest idiot. I need to give the biggest cwtch.” His reasoning was flawed, but you settled into him nonetheless.
#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders angst#marauders#marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders#drabble#marauders fandom#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#marauders era#the marauders#the maruaders#the marauders era#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#oneshot#angst#angst with a happy ending#anon ask#anon request
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Learned your lesson? (18+)
Simon Riley x Reader
Tags: Smut, daddy!simon, angry!simon
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, thigh riding, daddy kink, face slapping, slight impact play, spanking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism if you squint
Notes: absolute dEBaUchErY 🤪 but I have no regrets 🤭 gimme a chance and I’d let Simon ruin my-
In hindsight, the situation you were in was probably your fault.
You hadn’t meant to make Simon angry, and he wasn’t really, but you were being a brat. In your defence, having him away from you all the time got a little lonely, and you could only fuck yourself with the dildo he got you so many times before you started wanting the real thing.
That’s why you had blown up his phone all day, sending him video after video of you fucking yourself in every room of your apartment, moaning his name as you came. In the back of your mind, you knew it was a bad idea, but it felt so deliciously good to imagine his eyes widening as he stood on base and got all your little gifts, especially when you were riding the dildo with his t-shirt on.
Your hands gripped the black marble countertop of your shared bathroom as you bounced your ass back against the wall, the hyper-realistic dildo hitting you just right. When Simon showed up with a clone-a-willy kit in hand before a long deployment, you nearly spat out the soda you were drinking.
“What the fuck is that?” You managed to sputter as you coughed, trying not to spit soda all over the living room carpet.
“Your stress reliever, luv’.” Simon’s eyes sparked behind his balaclava as he chuckled with mirth.
The rest of that night consisted of you whispering in his ear and tracing his neck with your tongue, keeping him hard as you carried out your diy sex toy production.
And now, as you fucked yourself on your clone of Simon’s cock, your phone propped up to record, the dildo did its job, but it wasn’t Simon.
It wasn’t him.
That’s why you made sure to look directly into the camera as you felt the familiar sparks building up in your core, and when you came, you let him know how much you missed him.
What you couldn’t have known, was that the wifi on base was horrendous. You’d think with the budget going towards the military, they could at least invest in a new router, but no. Simon often had to struggle through paperwork, which he already detested, waiting for the tiniest files to load. In your eagerness to tease him, you sent all the videos at once, but couldn’t have known that they’d take ages to get delivered.
By the time they reached their destination, blowing up Simon’s phone all at once, it was hours after you’d initially hit send. It was nearly impossible for him to be away from you as it is. As soon as he saw your face the day you met, he knew that he’d be needing you for the rest of his life.
He didn’t like leaving you and he didn’t like sharing.
Two weeks away from the only reminder of having a normal life was already painstaking. It was the last day on base and Simon was counting down the minutes till he could get home and show you how much he missed you. The time spent rubbing himself in the barracks bathroom, jerking his cock to the thought of you, all it had done was provide temporary relief. He needed the real thing.
He needed to be buried so deep in your tight little cunt that he made himself a part of you with each thrust.
Simon was counting down the minutes as he sat through the last briefing of the day, just a few hours away from getting to let out all his pent up tension, when his phone began to buzz endlessly. His heart spiked, threatening to burst from his throat as he saw the texts from you. Instantly, the worst case scenarios of what could’ve happened ran through his mind. He wasn’t a paranoid man by any means, but when it came to you, the only thing that mattered more that keeping you happy was your safety.
What if something happened? What if you were hurt? What if you’d been taken hostage and someone was sending him videos of you being tortured?
Okay, so, maybe a little paranoid.
Not wanting to wait in agonizing curiosity, he clicked open the attachment.
Within seconds, sounds of your wanton moaning filled the room, your breathy whimpers of his name silencing the rest of the 141 who had been debriefing. All eyes snapped to Simon as he fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor in his haste to mute the video. This interrupted Soap’s guffawing, as his eyes locked on the screen, the video of you riding the dildo he got you playing on repeat.
“Jesus Christ, Lt! Tha’ yer woman? She’s a sight to-” Gaz smacked him upside the head as Price tried to avert his eyes, clearing his throat.
“Watch your fuckin’ eyes, Johnny, before I rip ‘em outta your skull.” Simon snapped.
Finally, he managed to switch the video off, but the damage was done. Even though he sat as still as a statue for the rest of the brief, his balaclava hidden face betraying no emotion despite Soap’s repeatedly cheeky comments, Simon was livid.
From the time he first took you, he ruined you for anyone else. Nobody could replace him, nobody could break you or make you scream like he did. But you’d ruined everything else for him too. And just the thought of someone else getting to have you, getting to touch even an inch of your skin, was enough that he had to ball his fists so as not to throttle Johnny’s neck.
He trusted his guys with his life, even if he’d never tell them that. But this was different.
This was you.
While you giggling conspiratorially to yourself, thinking about the fun you’d have with him when he got home, Simon was whiteknuckling the wheel of his truck, trying not to break the speed limit to get home to you faster. His cock was achingly hard as he ran over how he planned to punish you again and again in his mind. You’d love every second of it, he always made sure you did, but he wanted to tease you just like you did him.
This is what he loved about you. How you were so eager to please, but so eager to rile him up, it was the perfect combination to make Simon’s cock scream at him to fuck your pretty throat.
He nearly ran a stop sign imaging cumming in your greedy mouth.
His dirty girl.
His greedy girl. He definitely couldn’t give you the usual treatment this time. The thought of your ass marked up with his handprints after a spanking was tempting, but you would enjoy it far too much. He wanted to see you struggle to get even the slightest bit of relief after the stunt you pulled.
The rumbling of his truck signalled his arrival to your keen ears, and you jumped up from the couch, running to the front door of the cozy house you’d bought together to stand on the porch waiting for him.
Simon got out of his truck. He knew you were standing there, where you always were to welcome him home after a deployment, but he didn’t look at you. Getting his gear bag from the back, he slung it over his shoulders and trudged up the front stairs. His kit was well over 100 pounds, but he still managed to carry it with one hand. The other hand shot out to wrap around your throat, causing you to stumble on your feet.
“Simo-” Your greeting was cut of by your now restricted air supply, and your hands instinctively clawed at his grip on your throat. He didn’t utter a word, only reached around you to open the door, pushing you inside as he followed, closing it with his foot.
You were pinned up against the wall as soon as his gear bag had hit the ground, and you could already hear his ragged breaths.
“D’you have any idea,” He huffed, trying to restrain himself from just fucking you against the wall. “how much shit you’re in for… love?” He ground out the pet name like it took effort for him to keep from swearing even more.
You quickly ran through everything that you could have done wrong in your mind. Sure, you’d been a brat all day, but Simon liked when you were bratty from time to time. Nothing you could think of could explain the tightly contained anger that was rippling off of him.
“What? Did you not like the videos?” You managed to say breathily, the grip on your throat keeping you perched on the edge of loosing your breath. “Did I not like the-” Simon stopped to let out a low, raspy chuckle, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.
“I loved the videos, sweetheart. An’ so did the boys.” He whispered slowly into your ear.
Immediately your face scrunched up as you tried to decipher what he meant.
“What do you mean, Si? I only….oh.” The reality of your mistake hit you all at once.
Oh.
How could you have forgotten that Simon would probably be around the rest of the 141, not to mention how inept with technology he was. No wonder the rest of the team saw you. Your swirling thoughts were broken up by Simon releasing your throat, only to grab your arm, and roughly drag you over to the couch.
“‘Oh’ is right, luv’.” He murmured as he sat down, pulling you on top of his lap to straddle him. Your hands instinctively went for his balaclava, wanting to take it off and see his face, a permission only you were granted.
Before your fingers could even meet the fabric, Simon was grabbing both your wrists with one hand, pinning them to your lap. You really had poked the bear in all senses of the word. Simon was utterly massive, and he could easily palm any part of you that would take most people two hands to hold.
With his free hand, he pushed his balaclava up so it rested just underneath his nose, his lips free to kiss you. Your stomach was churning with a mix of apprehension and excitement. You knew the look in his eyes, the look he only got when he was going to break you. It was nearly impossible to keep from leaning down and pressing a kiss to his inviting lips, but you knew that you were already in as much trouble as it was.
With the way you were straddling his lap, the thin material of your shorts allowed you to feel his cock growing ridged underneath you. Heat bloomed in your core and Simon’s grip on your wrists suddenly felt electric.
“You’re a greedy cockslut, aren’t you?” He slipped the hand which wasn’t keeping your wrists trapped underneath your shirt. “So desperate you jus’ had to be a brat, hm? Had to let everyone see wha’ a needy girl you are.”
The low, condescending tone of his voice made your head swim, and your breaths began to come faster and faster as he palmed your tits, beginning to play with your nipples. You couldn’t exactly be sorry when he was making you feel so good, but there was still some guilt in the back of your mind for putting him on the spot.
“Simon, I’m-” Simon’s large hand slapped you lightly across the cheek, tugging your hair to refocus your gaze on him. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He pinched your nipple hard, causing you to reel forwards into his chest.
“What’s my fuckin’ name, huh? Only good girls get t’call me Simon.” He dug his fingers into the skin of your wrists, the pain warning you of what would come if you weren’t more obedient.
“…daddy?” You tried quietly.
Simon’s grip on your wrists lessened instantly, and his hands began to tease at your tits again. The whiplash of pain to pleasure was something that he had perfected, and he loved the way you’d bite your lip as you struggled to catch up. All it took was just getting you to call him daddy and he could already feel you melting in his lap, your eyes getting half lidded and foggy.
“That’s right, bunny. And daddy teaches his baby how to behave doesn’t he?” Simon said expectantly, beginning to peel off his t-shirt you were wearing.
“Y-yes, daddy.” The cold air hit your skin, sending a shiver through body as you were left in just your thin pajama shorts, straddling your hulk of a boyfriend. Without the t-shirt in the way, Simon had easy access to your gorgeous tits, and took the opportunity to take a nipple in between his teeth, his other hand running up and down your back.
He was rock hard by now, the feeling of your soft skin on top of him sending his mind into a buzzing haze of desire. All he wanted to do was rut up into that precious pussy of yours and make you cum around his cock. But he had to be patient. He had to make sure you knew what you did wrong.
As soon as he felt you begin to rock your hips, a movement so imperceptible that only those who knew you would realize what you want, he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Simon’s eyes were narrowed in warning, and a dark chuckled left his throat.
“You’re so greedy.” He growled, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Show daddy you’re more than jus’ a needy little girl.”
“How, daddy?” You breathed.
A whine fell from your lips as you slipped further away from being rational, your head fuzzy with want as you felt Simon’s cock pressed underneath you.
“Can’t get off without my cock, hm?” He thought back to the videos of you fucking yourself on the dildo he got you. Simon loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to move, only to shifted you so that he could tear your pajama shorts off. He lifted you slightly so that you were straddling one of his thighs instead.
“You wanna cum s’badly? You need it s’much that you’re a brat?”
“Fuck yourself on my thigh then, luvie.”
Your breath left you in one big whoosh, and the moment Simon gave you permission to move, you were grinding down on his thigh. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against your clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.
Simon watched as your eyes got droopy, half opened through your haze of pleasure. He was still angry but right now all he could focus on was how pretty you looked. Your cheeks all flushed from his words and the exertion of grinding on him, your little hands holding onto his shoulders, and the wet spot on your panties.
“That’s it, pretty. Jus’ like that.” He groaned.
His cock felt impossibly hard, raging with need every time he looked at the way your tits bounced. Fumbling with his belt, he pulled his cock out. The noise caught your attention, and you faltered, going to reach for him. You didn’t get very far, because as soon as Simon felt you stop moving, he delivered two quick spanks to your ass.
You cried out in surprise and pain as he fisted one hand in your hair, and the other around his leaking cock. His hands were so big it made him look normal sized, but you knew he was easily almost ten inches.
“Such a whore.” He whispered, pulling your hair so your head was forced back. “Jus’ had t’get my cock in your mouth.”
Simon stroked himself lazily, savouring the wave of heat which coursed through him every time he ran a thumb over his tip. It wasn’t your touch, but it would do for now. Your gaze was forced to the ceiling as Simon kept you locked in position, observing you like his own personal work of art. The sound of his quiet groans filling your ears was torturous knowing you weren’t allowed to touch him. You could feel yourself leaking into his jeans, and knew he no doubt felt it too.
“Are you- oh, gonna be a good girl f’me?” His mouth latched on your exposed neck as he sucked a hickey into your skin, marking you as his. You were panting, practically trembling as he forced you to keep still. Simon was closer than he’d like to admit. It had been weeks since he’d touched you and just seeing you writhing on lap, trying to get whatever friction you could, made his cock leak.
“Say it, bunny.” He rasped into your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw.
“I’ve learned my lesson, daddy. Please, can I…” You trailed off, afraid that if you asked for his cock you’d seem ever more needy.
But Simon was thrilled.
Having the love of his life, almost naked on his lap, desperate to touch him was like a dream. The hand in your hair pushed your head down, his palm big enough to cover the back of your head.
“Suck.” He growled.
Rubbing the head of his cock along your mouth, demanding entrance, you parted your lips. Simon pushed inside of your mouth, heavy on your tongue as he let out a long, drawn out groan you wished you could have on repeat.
“Shit, sweathear’- oh, fuck..” He hissed. You could feel him twitching in your mouth.
He tried to focus on anything but the warm, wet-
Oh, god.
Simon bucked his hips up and began to fuck into you without warning, sending your hands shooting out to his stomach to catch yourself. His cock hit the roof of your mouth and your throat tightened on reflex as you tried not to gag. You could feel Simon’s nails digging into your scalp as he bobbed your head up and down.
“Sorry, luv’ I jus’,” He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips around him. “Been achin’ for you, bunny. All those videos y’sent me.” He moaned, no longer able to keep himself from being gentle.
“Let daddy cum in y’mouth, sweetheart.”
The words flooded your pussy with heat, and Simon took notice of the way you moaned around his cock. He was strict, but he wasn’t cruel, and you had been good so far. Taking a little pity on you, Simon used his free hand to grab your hip, bouncing his leg so you could get a little relief. The sudden stimulation sent your dripping cunt into overdrive, and as Simon rammed his cock into your throat, you began to rut against his thigh.
He would’ve told you to keep your eyes on him, but they looked so pretty rolling back into your head.
“Yeah, yeah jus’ like that.” He said, his voice raspy as he tried to hold himself back. “Be good for daddy. Get close, luv’.”
You didn’t have to try with the way your cunt was clenching around nothing. Every bounce of his leg rubbed your clit against his jeans, and he pushed you further by holding your hip to help you grind against him. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, and Simon knew it too with the way you were moaning around his cock. Every noise you made sent a vibration through him, and he began to fuck your mouth with abandon, his balls tightening in anticipation.
“Oh, god. Oh f-fuck, bunny keep-” He spasmed in your mouth. “Keep suckin’ just like tha’. Daddy’s gonna cum in your pretty lil’ mouth.”
His words made your head spin. The only thought on your mind was drawing as much pleasure from him as you could, so you took his balls in your hand, rolling them a few times to push him over the edge. Your core was fluttering with need as you rutted against Simon’s leg, which he kept bouncing, hitting your swollen clit mercilessly. It was too much for both of you after weeks without each other.
Simon’s hand left your hip so he could tangle both hands in your hair, the need for his own pleasure taking over. You managed to glance up, wanting to see his face as he came.
“Luvie.. luvie, oh sweatheart.” His mouth hung open as he let out a noise he didn’t know he could make. The sight of you grinding desperately against his thigh tipped him over the edge.
“Oh, fuck. Bun-”
Ropes of hot, thick cum shot down your throat, filling your mouth and spilling past your lips. The taste of Simon on your tounge was enough to break you. Your mind shattered as you began rutting on his thigh, not caring how needy you looked, the heat in your pussy sent you spiralling. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you gushed all over Simon’s leg as he pressed himself so deep into your mouth that your nose hit his stomach.
He sent the last of his load down your throat and pulled your head up as you gasped for air. The world was fuzzy, but you felt two big, strong arms pulling you up from where you’d collapsed forward onto Simon’s stomach.
Taking you into his lap, he ran a hand through your hair as he rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. His cock lay resting against his stomach, big even when it was getting soft. Simon’s hand found your chin and he turned your gaze to his, helping you come back to reality by taking off his balaclava to let you see his face.
“Did so good f’me, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, making you giggle.
“Thank you, daddy.” You managed to say, your eyes getting droopy as sleepiness began to creep in.
“I think you learned your lesson, sweetheart.” He mused, noticing your breaths begin to slow. “Jus’ rest here, luv’.”
“Daddy’s got you.”
Simon watched with reverence as your head rested against his shoulder, your flushed cheeks making you look even cuter than you did choking on his cock. This was good. This was right. He’d take care of you forever, he knew it from the moment he saw you. You didn’t realize yet, but you had one hell of a guardian angel on your side.
#smut#simon smut#ghost smut#ghost x f!reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you
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Dipping my toes in the ‘oblivious Eddie has no functioning gaydar which results in mild miscommunication’ genre of the Steddie experience, hope you enjoy!
Ao3 extended version
“My, my, are my eyes deceiving me? Steve Harrington himself has graced these sinful halls?”
Instead of a sneer Eddie’s been expecting, Steve’s face lights up with a smile. He lifts his hand to wave at him with much more enthusiasm than expected. Which is… weird since they have maybe talked once when the guy picked up Eddie’s new freshmen from Hellfire. Well, almost as weird as meeting a Harington in a gay bar itself.
“Munson, hi!”
A little dumb-founded, Eddie waves back weakly, his eyes catching the sight of Robin Buckley at the bar behind them. Ah, so there’s the reason Harrington’s here.
“You’re here as an ally, I presume.”
“Uhm, yeah I guess so?” Steve pouts, confused, before smiling again. “You too, then?”
“Sure, let’s say that.”
“Hey, you should sit with us,” Harrington grins as if that’s actually a good idea. Before Eddie manages to think of an excuse, he’s being dragged towards Buckley by the sleeve. “Come on.”
“Munson,” Robin nods at him in greeting, something akin to a mischievous smirk on her face. Why, he doesn’t begin to understand.
“You look good, by the way,” a deep voice whispers into his ear as they set off towards the tables and Eddie has to do everything for his soul not to leave his body. Steve… is being way friendlier than expected. But that’s what it is, he has to remind himself before it gets too dangerous, just guys being dudes.
The ‘us’ in question turns out to be more than just the bizarre Harrington-and-Buckley duo. There’s Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers and some tall guy with the best hair he’s seen, not counting Harrington of course, bless his hair-sprayed soul. They don’t seem all that surprised he’s here at all which - fair enough, but also that he’s here at this table and that he doesn’t know how to explain. Nancy Wheeler, though, ever the enigma keeps shooting him loaded glances. He’s pretty sure she sniffed out his embarrassing crush on, ugh, Steve Harrington and she’s- Jealous maybe? Probably? As if there is a universe where he, Eddie Munson, poses a threat to someone like Nancy fucking Wheeler.
Steve sits himself closest to Eddie, maybe because he’s feeling guilty - as he should be - about throwing him into a table full of basically-strangers or maybe for a different, Harrington-unexplainable reason. The point is, he’s close, Eddie can smell his aftershave and cigarettes and it’s the best and worst thing that’s happened to him.
He keeps talking, too, asking Eddie questions about DnD (and isn’t that a head-scratcher in itself) and what conditioner he’s using because he really likes his hair (as if Steve wasn’t the embodiment of every shampoo commercial ever made). The gin-and-tonic Eddie’s been sipping must’ve been stronger than he thought because he swears he hears Steve saying something like ‘I don’t know, I think you’re really pretty’ at one point.
Eddie is starting to wonder if Harrington, perhaps, has been replaced with a pod person.
There’s a few more attempts at small talk from Steve but Eddie’s too confused and trying so hard to not be hopeful because a second edition of a pathetic crush on a straight dude (Steve, his mind supplies helpfully) is going to be too painful. Harrington seems kind of down afterwards, sliding off his chair and towards the bar which leaves Eddie with an infamous Buckley glare. Followed by an aggravating assault to his shin.
“Ow, Jesus, what the fuck is your problem?”
“My problem?” Robin is quick to retort. “What’s your problem? I thought you had a crush on him! It’s frankly kind of fucking obvious.”
Okay, whoa, rude.
“I don’t,” Eddie sneers back but falters when she levels him with a blank stare. “Fine, I do. Whatever. Way to kick a man when he’s down.”
“Dingus, he’s been all over you for the last hour. He’s been flirting like crazy and you, for some reason, keep shooting him down, what the hell?”
“But-” But he’s straight. Right? He turns to see Steve at the bar and - oh, there’s some guy with curly hair touching Steve’s arm and Steve’s smiling and blushing and- “What?”
That won’t do.
“Go get your man,” Robin says, practically shoving him off his stool to emphasize her point. Eddie scrambles from the floor, ignores the intense looks from the rest of the table and marches towards the bar.
“I’m coming, Stevie.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#st fanfic#ficlet#my writing
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Vince walked around his town's annual Oktoberfest celebration, catching sight of someone he hadn't seen in years, his high school crush, Natalie. Only not quite how he remembered her. "Wow, Natalie! Get a load of you.... looking better than ever!"
"Oh my god, Vince! I'm soooo happy to see you! And thanks.... I'm getting that a lot." She giggled, giving her belly a few good slaps as she guzzled her beer, wiping her lips afterward.
"Damn, you're putting those things away, huh? I remember you used to be all straight-edge, education comes first. You were cute, but not a whole lot of fun."
"Gee, thanks. I know, I know, I was so stuck up. But that's all changed now, and for the record this is my fifth beer already! Which, mmmm, reminds me!" Natalie slightly spread her bare legs and feet, pissing without a hint of embarrassment. "Mmmmm, that feels so good! I hope you don't mind." She bit her lip, talking as she pissed shamelessly in front of everyone.
"Not at all, a girl your size probably can barely control it, I bet."
She shook her head, still going, taking a big sip of her beer. "Just barely. I'm such breeder now, I'm getting used to just pissing myself if I need to. My womb is gigantic most of the time, my poor bladder's crushed. All the beer I drink probably doesn't help either. Mmmmm...."
"I can't believe how much you've changed. Last I heard you were a big shot in going to University in the city, about to get your Bachelor's. I still remember you tutoring me in English and I felt like a moron talking to you. Everyone knew you were the smartest girl in class."
"Those were the days! Well, I did good in college but my family talked me into dropping out and giving up on my education."
"What? For real?"
Natalie slapped her belly so hard it made a loud smacking noise. "Uh-huh! You know my family are pretty traditional, Christian types..... Sooo, they asked to talk to me and basically said that they were being quiet about how they really felt. They were proud of who I was becoming, but deep down wanted me to return to my small-town roots. They told me they always hoped I'd be barefoot and pregnant, sleeping around town, popping out kids left and right with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. They talked about how they prayed I'd come to my senses and lead a normal girl's life like God wants, or whatever. They said I should be breeding and having tons of sex with all kinds of guys, satisfying the local men, not leaving one behind. I should always be pregnant, and basically make my whole life about pleasure, to embrace being dumb, and to stop embarrassing them by being this super smarty city girl in college."
"And just like that you gave it up to make them happy, become a dumb little breeding cow?"
"Yep! Pretty much.... And I've got to say, I'm way happier living a simple life like this. I have all the sex I want with whoever, drink all I want, smoke like a chimney, show off my massive belly full of kids to entice the locals into getting out a little pent up frustration on me! I do such a wonderful service to the community now. I really feel like I'm giving back every time these men fill me with their seed and pound away at my poor, swollen pussy...." She giggled, giving her belly another slap, finishing her beer. "Oh! All done.... better get another. You want one?"
"Sure, I guess."
"That's the spirit! While we wait in line how about you bend me over, hike up my skirt, and show me how big a crush you really have on me....."
"Damn, I should've come back home way sooner I guess...." He gave Natalie a playful spank, leading her to the waiting line at the makeshift tavern nearby, his cock already anticipating getting to finally fuck his first major crush, with some added weight, a much bigger ass, and a huge belly full of kids. He knew in the coming days they would need to do a lot more catching up, while she could still walk, that is.
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☆ ❝ 𝐬'𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 ❞ ⋆ genshin x reader
synopsis. general nsfw hcs with wrio (i deleted the anon ask that asked this im so sorry aaahhh
warnings. 18+, nsfw, hair pulling, dacryphilia (the title, come on), threesome mentions
author's note. i saw a fanart about wriolette on tiktok so i had inspiration to answer the ask huhu
pairings. wriothesley x gn!reader (sub & dom!wrio + sub & dom!reader)
wriothesley has a habit of pulling your hair as he pounds his member inside you, and if you've really been that naughty, he'll make you read or help him with a few documents while holding your hips down onto his shaft, forcing you to take him all in :x
oh but don't get me wrong, he likes his hair getting pulled as well, or just like, play with it while he's giving you head cause i think personally he'd be into that.
has a thing for marking you one hundred percent, can't look at me in the eyes and say to me he wouldn't (probably unaware of when he does and how he does too i swear, will apologize afterwards lol)
unintentionally pushes your head while you suck him off, just feels that good.
^^ probably girth > length, like he'd be a good 5.5 inches when soft, maybe 6.5 inches when hard, 3 inches wide but hey yk its curved to the right a little so maybe its a bit longer than we think
likes eye contact while doing allat to you, thinks it's romantic an would like to keep his eyes locked with yours while you both feel pleasure
i think he'd also like quickies, but only when he's in a certain mood; that mood being stressed out or mad. like just quickly eats you out before going back to work
unknowingly and doesn't notice he goes too rough, although when you mention it, he'll try to slow down. keyword: try
lets neuvillette join in on the fun :p i don't have anything to add on to that
both probably really into double penetration too, so mmf ngh to them iykwim, they both get to have fun (or atleast one of neuvi's cocks bc personally i think he has two)
ok later on for neuvillette hcs, aside that,
erm, i think he'd personally have a size kink, whether it'd be you being smaller than him or larger and taller, either way he's like 'meow >_<'
giddy schoolgirl wriothesley when it comes to his s/o who's taller and stronger than him and can sweep him off his feet like a little princess
aside that again im getting carried away
he definitely has a temp(erature) kink, that cryo vision not there for nothing !!!!
uses his cryo powers to see you squirm on his lap while he signs a few stacks of paperwork, maybe even cockwarm him a little
aye to the sub wriothesley fans this one's for you; he def likes being pulled by a chain, i'm just saying i don't know man, consider the thought (he has literal chains on his outfit), and with that in mind, maybe getting handcuffed (you handcuff him) doesn't sound too bad
at first look, he's not a begger, like you look at him and probably think "why would he beg"
he begs no joke
will personally get on his knees, hell even all 4s if he that desperate to let him hit
even if he's not the one getting his back blown out he still louderrr than you are,
+ he's all for teasing, and overstimulation
i like to think he's just sooo whiny for you to just take it down your throat already seeing you just teasing his tip with small licks before taking it into your mouth, brushing your fingers against the base and to the shaft every now and then
more of a 'i'll eat my cum right back out you after releasing my load inside you' but he doesn't mind fingering your and his mixed liquids out your hole
idk im alreay burnt out and out of ideas
yippee!! jjk nsfw hcs soon :p
#⤷ ﹒ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა beep beep: a finished show! ♡#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact imagines#genshin drabbles#genshin fanfic#genshin headcanons#genshin smut#genshin imagines#genshin impact x you#genshin sub smut#genshin x gn reader#genshin x reader#genshin x you#sub genshin#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x y/n#wriothesley smut
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