#and he just got really fucking tired of them in the middle of the night
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Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink
(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))
(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))
You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”
Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.
You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.
You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.
“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.
“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”
You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.
Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.
Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.
She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.
You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”
Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”
But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.
“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”
Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”
You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”
Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”
You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”
Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”
“He’s gross.”
She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.
“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.
You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.
She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.
“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.
She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.
The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.
She mumbles something.
“Mizu-“
“I wanna do that.”
Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”
“I want to cum inside you.”
The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.
Holy shit.
Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.
And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.
Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“
Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.
“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“
Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.
“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”
Holy shIT-
“Mizu-MIZU-!”
Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.
And very, VERY drunk.
She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”
You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.
But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.
Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”
Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.
Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”
Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.
“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.
Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.
“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.
Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.
Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.
You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.
She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-
“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“
You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.
SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.
You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.
“Baby.”
Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.
“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.
Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.
And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Please?”
She’s pleading.
What the fuck was in her whiskey?!
“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”
With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.
You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.
"Say yes..."
Click!
You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.
She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.
Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”
“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.
“Oh? Congratulations!”
“….Wait…?”
“RINGO HELP!”
In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.
“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.
“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”
You nod, “That sounds good."
You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”
She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.
“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”
Several loud crashes in the kitchen.
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waking enhypen up by kissing them in the middle of the night
not the long ass title
pairing- enhypen ot7 (separate) x gf reader
warnings- kissing, cuddling, poor jungwon just wants to sleep, heeseung himself (fluffily [?] sitting on his lap). swearing lmk what i missed
really short because it was almost midnight where i live
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｈｅｅｓｅｕｎｇ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
he rubs his eyes and just honestly stares at you while you do whatever you want.
''y/n~ why'd u wake me up"
"because i just wanted a kiss"
he sat up and checked his phone.
1:34 am
he gave you your kiss
he leaned back against the headboard and pulled you onto his lap to hold you and peck your scalp lightly
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｊａｙ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
"baby, are you okay"
he's genuinely worried about you because this wasn't normal
"yeah, i just wanted a kiss"
he pulls you to his chest and kisses you. he holds it there for a few seconds and then pulls away only to peck you lips again
its literally 12:30 am right now and hes legit shocked
like, why are you interrupting hid beauty sleep?
he holds you to his chest and keeps you in his warm strong arms all night
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｊａｋｅ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
god- dont get me started
it is 2 am and when e sees you kissing his face
hes blushing. like crazy. im serious. its adorable
hes just staring at you with his puppy eyes and just smiles uncontrollably.
"what are you doing to me"
"i'm just kissing you, but since you wanted to be a bitch, i'm going to sleep"
''no baby!! come back!!! i liked it!!''
yeah, he's not going to let you go back to sleep
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｓｕｎｇｈｏｏｎ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
dont do it in the first place
that honestly depends on his mood
its was only 11:30 so it wasn't that late. i mean, for a person who is an old soul living in a mans body that is way too late to be awake
if he was in a bad mood, he wouldn't get mad but he wouldn't be exactly happy
"y/n, it's eleven thirty, why are you still awake?"
"i just wanted to kiss you"
"kiss me tomorrow
if he were in a good mood, he'd let you do whatever you want
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｓｕｎｏｏ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
don't try and convince me that this baby isn't going to kiss you back
like, he wakes up and sees your beautiful face at two in thr fucking morning, kissing him.
wow, what did he do to deserve you
"baby, i love you and all but, why are you awake? its 2 am"
"i just wanted to kiss you"
hes going to kiss you
let him, he will kiss you nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, lips, any exposed skin from your shoulders up he will at least peck
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｊｕｎｇｗｏｎ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
#justice for jungwon
its 3 am
he'd just groan and once you got the hint that he was exhausted you'd stop
only for him to bring you to his chest and out his nose in the crook of your neck
obv he likes it but hes the leader. he has 6 kids to feed, send to school, put clothes on their back, he cleans their rooms, he pays for them, hes their dad
#justice for jungwon pt2
︵‿︵‿୨♡ ｎｉｋｉ ♡୧‿︵‿︵
ok, he'd do the exact same as heeseung.
change my mind. i dare you
"whats up with you? its 4 am"
"damn, okay, i was trying to show you my love and shower you with affection and show you how much i love you and-"
you were cut off by his beautiful pink plump lips on yours
he smiled mid kiss and forced you head onto his chest (nicely)
just lay on top of him and he's happy, sleep touching him, even holding hands while sleeping.
his fluffy hair occasionally tickling you neck because did i mention that he would kiss the part where your shoulder and neck connected?
i dont think so
kiss him
an: j dhgkusdhgliua hdo im so tired
#enhypen fluff#enhypen niki#im-yn-suckers#enhypen fanfiction#niki fanfic#enha niki#nishimura riki#nishimura niki x reader#niki x reader#niki ff#enhypen heeseung#enhypen headcanons#heeseung x you#lee heesung x reader#lee heeseung#heeseung#enhypen jay x you#enhypen jay#enhypen jay imagines#jay x reader#park jongseong#enha jake#enhypen jake fluff#enhypen jake#jake sim#enhypen jaeyun#enhypen jake imagines#park sunghoon imagines#sunghoon ff#park sunghoon
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i thinkkkk you should do “we cry together” by kendrick lamar BUT with toji🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
“so you just gone sit there all night?” your eyes scanning over the room looking for the keys that were once on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.
toji scoffs, keeping his eyes on the tv, adjusting himself and lifting the remote by his side, keeping his eyes glued to the tv.
it was the same thing with his bitch ass every day, the same bullshit that repeated; it was like a nightmare that you were living in, but you only had yourself to blame; you knew what time it was when it came to toji.
the prior argument that happened the night before replaying in your head, little snippets flashing in your mind as you looked at him, a laugh slipping past your lips.
“where’s my keys?” your eyes still scanning the living room and patting yourself down just in case you already had them and forgot, the room falling silent as toji still watches at the tv.
slipping his hand in his pocket and pulling out his phone, his thumbs moving over the illuminated screen. your jaw clenching as you walk over to him, trying to take his phone, but he pushes you back, the both of you tugging on the phone.
“who the fuck are you texting?” he snatches his phone back and throws it, a loud thud heard on the other side of the room. your eyes looking at where he threw it, about to walk over there, but Toji tugs on your arm, and you tug back.
the cycle repeats.
"give me my fucking keys! i’m tired of your bitch ass.” pushing on his chest and trying to walk away, but he keeps your arm in lock with his hand, not even letting you budge out of his grip.
“and i’m tired of your bitching.” his voice got louder than yours as he still held you in his grip, stopping you from moving. he was doing some sneaky shit once again, and you were going to find out what it was.
this was going to be the time you really kicked his ass out, you were tired of everything. the pettiness, the degrading, his lazy ways, his cheating ass, you were tired of everything.
“fuck you! let me go.” hitting his hand to let you go, and he finally does, immediately free from his grip, you run to his phone and pick it up. the sound of your keys jingling caught your attention, and you quickly turned around to see him smirking and holding up your keys, jingling them again.
“aha now you parked in this bitch. go catch a ride from one of your thot ass friends.” stuffing your keys in his pocket, flopping back on the couch. you throwing his phone back on the couch and you storming over to him, sitting over him, trying to get your keys, but he’s not budging.
“give me my fucking keys!” your voice hoarse from last night's screaming match and your hands fumbling over his, his hands sliding down to your waist and pulling up the hem of your dress.
“why the fuck should i? look what the fuck you’re wearing!” his voice loud and bouncing off the walls, his hands falling to your ass out of routine but still not budging to give you your keys.
“what about it toji?!” pushing against his chest, trying to get off his lap, you knew it was no use to try to get the keys back because he wasn’t budging. it was clear he was still butt hurt about last night and was trying to sabotage your plans, but he wasn’t stopping shit.
storming over to the front door and taking your purse off the hook and storming into your room to get your phone to call your friend, you didn’t care if they were going to give you a lecture about your relationship, you just didn’t want to be in the same space as him.
as you look around your room for your phone, you hear the door close and the sound of the door licking a second letter. you look behind you and toji is walking up to you, throwing your keys on the bed.
“so what you wanna do?”’his voice low as he looks at you with an averted gaze, the air stiff and a low sigh slipping past your lips. bending over to get the keys, and you feel hands on your ass, his hands slowly rubbing under your dress.
taking his fingers and hooking them around the hem of your panties and pulling them down, pushing against your aching your core, feeling his dick press against him.
fuck…
pushing your dress up and taking his sweatpants and briefs quickly, pulling them down, the tip of his dick covered with pre-cum. lining himself up with the entrance and slowly sliding himself in, a light moan coming out of your mouth as your grip the sheets.
his hand on your back pressing into it and his other on your ass and gripping it, pushing deeper inside of you, another moan sliding out of you.
sliding himself out of you then pushing into you roughly and lifting his hand up and slapping your ass, the feeling making you moan and arch your back, the feeling making you clench around him with arousal.
slipping himself back out and pushing into you again, a grunt coming past his lips as he pushes into you deeper. his hand sliding from your ass to your back and then to your neck, sliding it to the front of your neck and pushing you into his chest.
leaning down and kissing your neck, your body arched as you take him all in, moans slipping out of your mouth more and more, little whimpers emerged with him and his low groans in your ear.
“mm, you like it? tell me you like it.” pushing into you again and deeper, pressing hard into your sweet spot, a small cry coming out as you squeeze your eyes shit trying to take in the pleasure.
your tight pussy clinging onto him, he almost wants to stay inside you, he pushes into you a little more before pulling out and slamming into you again. your hand coming up to his arm for grip and stability, your mouth open as moans continue to slip out.
“i like it, baby. fuck me harder.” small tears sliding out of the corner of your eyes, and he continues to slam into you, his thick dick slowly spreading out your walls the more he pushes deeper inside of you.
a knot in the pit of your stomach ready to unravel any minute, the way the tip of his dick was pressing into your sweet spot sent you over, your walls clinging onto him again as you let out a longer moan.
“whose pussy is this? huh?” grunting into your ear waiting for your answer, the harder he presses into you, your tits start to come out the shirt, his other hand sliding over to grip them.
“yours toji, yours”. your mind blurred, you could barely think. the only thing on your mind was the dick he was giving you, it was too much, you were at your climax, your walls gripping around him more before you cum.
a long moan sliding past your lips and a groan coming from his, loosening his grip from your neck and letting you fall on the bed, pushing into you one more time before laying on you.
“i hate you.” your eyes shutting as you embrace his cum shooting inside of you.
“fuck you.”
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#x reader#finally finished omg#toji x you#toji smut#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji x reader#toji x y/n#dilf toji
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JJK// Your top lifts up while you sleep pt.2
Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo
Tags: nsfw content, somnophilia, cnc
Part 2 of the series!! I really loved how the first part turned out so i want to continue it 💕 You can read part one here ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ
Note: it’s been over a year since i posted this and i am growing tired of all the comments from blank blogs and blogs that belong to minors attacking me for making a fictional character fuck another fictional character in their sleep in a fictional story. Grow the fuck up and learn not to fucking read a story if you dont like the tags?? To everyone else who knows how to differentiate fiction from reality, i love you pookies <3
Masterlist
Gojo: After another week away from you because of his work, he was finally excited to get back home to you. It was past midnight when he entered the apartment so he tried his best to be as quiet as possible since he was absolutely sure you were already asleep, and he was right. Entering the bedroom he saw you peacefully sleeping while hugging his pillow. He smiled to himself knowing that you missed him as much as he missed you. Making his way towards the bed, he could see you better, easily noticing this time that your top was almost completely rolled up and that you were not wearing any shorts at all. His face lit up since he really missed all of you. Taking a seat on the bed next to you, he leaned in and started leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulder, slowly moving lower and lower, until he reached your thighs. God, he loved your thighs. Everything about them was perfect. Giving them a soft bite, he chuckled the moment you squeezed your thighs together. It was always a sign that you were getting horny and he knew it.
He had to check it so he slightly moved your panties aside, just enough for his hand to make its way inside of them. Using his middle finger he caressed your pussy before inserting it and a second one inside of you. Just as he thought, you were already wet and ready for a good pounding. So not wasting any more time, he got rid of his clothes and placed himself on top of you. After stroking his already erect cock a couple times, he lined it under your pussy. Grabbing a hold of your hip, he started moving. In between soft whimpers, he quietly laughed because he knew you’d get angry at him if you were awake since you absolutely hate being teased. You took him by surprise when you squeezed your thighs together once more, making him almost cum on the spot. Embarrassed, he cursed the fact that he was so excited, so he quickened the pace, knowing for sure that he won’t last for much longer. Not much longer after, he entered your pussy and pushing as far in as possible, he came inside of you.
Leaning in once more, he placed a tired kiss on your forehead. "A little warm surprise for tomorrow morning"
Choso: Waking up in the middle of the night isn't something uncommon for Choso. He's been struggling with insomnia since he can remember. What he'd usually do is stay in bed and watch you sleep while waiting for the morning to come. This particular night tho it was a bit different. When he woke up you were no longer in his arms. You were sleeping on your back, with your legs conveniently opened and your top no longer covering your abdomen and chest. The sight made him hard on the spot and there was nothing he wanted to do more than touch you. He hesitated at first, thinking that it wouldn't be ok for him to do so, even tho, as he clearly remembers, you did talk about this before, and you ensured him that you are absolutely fine and actually looking forward to that happening at some point. Making up his mind, he changed his position, now sitting next to you instead of laying down.
Being sure that you want that as much as he does, he went straight for your chest. Still very careful with his touches so that you wouldn't wake up, he cupped one of your tits and started squeezing and playing with it while devouring the other one with his mouth, all while rubbing his knee against your clothed pussy. Your tits were so soft, he could never get enough of them. But there was something he was even more excited about. The thought of filling you up with his cum from coming inside of you as many times and he wants without you even knowing was getting him on a whole different level of excitement.
He did just as he said. He came inside of you until you were full. He made you come multiple times too. He even managed to fall back asleep, too exhausted to actually stay awake as usual. When you woke up you were very excited to tell him about the dream you had, to which he paid full attention. He's found something else to do from now on when his insomnia kicks in.
Note: I haven't wrote anything in over a year so i dunno if i still have it but oh well what never stopped was me being horny so i hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻
#gojo x reader#choso x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#gojo smut#choso smut#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#choso x reader smut#gojo satoru#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader#choso kamo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#choso x you#choso x y/n#jjk imagines
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Pinky Promise
Pinky Promise 2
Part 3
Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.
Word count: 2k
A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C
You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.
The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.
Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.
The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.
“Seresin.”
“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.
“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.
“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.
“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?
“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.
“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.
“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.
“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.
“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.
But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.
You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.
It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.
“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.
“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.
“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.
“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.
“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.
“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.
“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.
“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.
Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.
When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.
He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”
Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.
“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.
He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”
You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.
“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.
“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.
“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.
“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.
“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.
“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.
“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.
It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.
“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.
“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.
He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.
“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.
He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.
Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman
He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.
Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.
A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!
Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy
#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin#topgun maverick#top gun maverick#chelsea writes#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader
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the way things go; lee minho
❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.
trope: roommates to lovers.
genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.
summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.
warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.
word count: 3,7k.
masterlist
note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)
Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.
Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.
Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.
Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.
Then you freeze for a second.
You look at Soonie.
Soonie looks at you.
Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.
Fuck.
Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.
Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.
He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?
You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.
Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.
Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.
Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.
You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.
Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.
Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.
And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.
Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.
And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.
Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.
Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.
He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.
"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."
The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.
"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"
His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.
You feel pathetic.
Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.
Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.
You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.
"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.
"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.
"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."
His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.
"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"
"I had the worst week ever here, without you."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.
"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.
"What is?"
"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."
You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.
"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.
Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.
"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."
"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."
You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.
"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."
Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.
"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.
"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."
Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.
There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.
For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.
#lee know#lee minho#skz#skz x reader#stray kids#lee know x reader#lee know fluff#lee know comfort#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz au#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#skz fluff#skz comfort#skz angst#stray kids drabbles#stray kids x reader#skz fanfic#lee know angst
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Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)
You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved.
You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.
TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping
CHAPTER 1
You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.
Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun?
Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea.
Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words.
Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place.
— Sorry.
Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately.
You aren’t letting go of the bottle.
The guy doesn’t let go either.
— Sorry, I think I got it first.
You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies.
— Haven’t seen you.
He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too.
— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle.
You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that.
— What do you need this bottle for?
— Important reasons. Secret reasons.
The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck.
Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers.
He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see.
Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you.
But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria.
— Please, sir, it’s getting silly.
— Yes, it is. Give up now.
He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation.
— I really, really need this bottle. Please?
You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation.
In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions.
— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you?
His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head.
— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir.
You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head.
“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too!
— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all.
His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him.
— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle.
He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants.
He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back.
— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine.
— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it!
— You too.
— But I will.
— Just as I am.
He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are.
Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are.
Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm.
Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you.
— What’s going on, Tigeren?
Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions.
You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…
Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…
Did you miss a horse-riding party?
— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko.
— I’m not a tourist.
You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately.
— This is a dangerous place, lady.
The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual.
— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now.
— With my coke.
Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously.
— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold.
— You let go of it, sir.
— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you.
You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears.
— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around.
The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip.
You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night?
He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier.
Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you.
You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards.
Nothing.
God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…
— On me. Move your ass, tourist.
The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend?
You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried.
You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you.
You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want.
Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on.
— Thank…you?
— No problem, kleine.
You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old.
— What the fuck? Who is…
— I’ll explain in the car, alright?
— Did you drop it or something?
— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it?
She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could.
— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it.
He…
You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…
The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention.
— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen.
Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals.
— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though.
He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.
— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts.
— We’re not some dumb tourists.
— Ach? You aren’t?
Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop.
— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us.
— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja?
— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen?
You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse.
You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form.
— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road.
— You were driving whole day?
— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice.
The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation.
— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you.
The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies.
— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind.
— Are you two alone on the trip?
Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small.
— No, Our male friends are with us.
He humms, almost sounding amused.
— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy.
— Sorry?
— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily.
You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp.
— Thank you for the bottle, sir.
— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja?
You nod.
Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right?
(You can’t, but you don’t know that yet)
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#konig x reader#yandere konig#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere cod#yandere x reader#yandere horangi#horangi#kim horangi hong jin#kim hong jin#horangi x könig#horangi x reader#horangi x you#slashers
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Angel | myg (m)
☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader
☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.
☾ Word Count: 15,551
☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.
☾ Published: September 3, 2023
☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist
Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.
She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.
Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.
Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.
Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.
Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.
Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.
“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”
“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.
“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”
Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.
It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.
Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.
Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.
Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.
They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.
Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.
“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”
“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”
“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”
“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”
“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”
“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”
Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”
A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.
Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.
When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.
People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.
The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.
Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.
Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.
The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.
Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.
Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.
Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.
Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.
Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.
Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.
Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.
Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.
Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.
Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.
His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.
Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.
The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.
At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.
Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.
It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.
“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”
“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”
“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”
“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”
“Whatever shall we do?”
He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.
“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”
“Thanks, Angel.”
“Mhmm.”
His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.
Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.
Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.
In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.
Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.
Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.
He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.
He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.
It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.
Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.
With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.
Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.
“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.
“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.
You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.
Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.
“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.
“Mhmm. Just a long night.”
“You smell like perfume.”
“Hmm?”
“Like peaches.”
He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”
“Maybe.”
“Interesting.”
“Not particularly.”
He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”
Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”
“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”
Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.
Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.
“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”
“Are you a foot person?”
“What if I was?”
You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”
Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.
“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”
Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.
You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.
So he does.
Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.
Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.
His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.
Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.
He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.
Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.
Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.
Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.
Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.
When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.
This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.
There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.
“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”
“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”
He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”
A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.
“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”
Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.
The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.
Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.
“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”
He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.
When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.
Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.
“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.
The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.
“You don’t-”
“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”
“Fuck yeah, Angel.”
Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.
Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.
“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.
“Give it to me.”
One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.
Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.
A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.
Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.
The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.
Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.
There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.
You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.
Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.
“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”
“I’d sleep in them anyway.”
“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”
“Meh.”
“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”
“Huh. So you are jealous.”
“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”
-
Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.
Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.
When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.
You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.
Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.
The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.
A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.
“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.
Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.
“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”
“Mhmm.”
“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”
With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.
Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.
Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.
You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.
As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.
Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.
At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.
If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.
It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.
And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.
The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.
After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.
You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.
Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.
Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.
The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.
At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.
It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.
Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.
While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.
Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.
Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.
Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.
Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.
You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.
He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.
Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.
-
Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.
Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.
The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.
A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.
“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”
You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.
Money. This man has money.
Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.
The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.
The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.
If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.
“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”
“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”
“Well said.”
Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.
“Do you know where we are?”
You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”
He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”
“You asked a question.”
“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”
“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”
He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”
Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.
“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”
“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”
You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”
“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”
You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”
“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”
“To get their cock sucked, usually.”
Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.
Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.
“I will fucking kill you.”
There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.
You need to be valuable. And fast.
“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”
Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”
“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”
“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”
“One way to find out, right?”
Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.
Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.
Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.
Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.
You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.
It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.
Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”
You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”
“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”
“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”
“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”
“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”
“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”
“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”
“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”
This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.
“Thank you.”
“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”
“Okay.”
His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“See you soon.”
-
Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.
When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.
Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.
All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?
Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?
Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.
“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”
“What?” Yoongi demands.
“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”
It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.
“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”
“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”
“He told you where they were?”
“No, she did.”
Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”
“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”
“In front of-”
“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”
“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”
“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”
“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”
Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”
An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.
I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?
In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.
None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.
-
Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.
You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.
It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.
You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.
At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.
Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.
It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.
Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.
You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.
The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.
You’re not sure if it’s that simple.
It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.
Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.
Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.
A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.
When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.
Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.
As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.
His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.
No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.
Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.
Click. Squeeze. Bang.
You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.
A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.
Squeeze. Bang.
It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.
Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.
“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”
“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”
“That’s it, keep talking to me.”
It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”
Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-
Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.
Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.
“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”
“I don’t-”
“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”
Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.
Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”
You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.
When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.
“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.
“Yes.”
“Then why-”
“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”
“Okay.”
“Look at me.”
You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”
-
A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.
It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.
Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.
Home.
The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.
Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.
Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.
The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.
So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.
Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.
The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.
“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”
“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”
“Give me five.”
When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.
Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.
Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.
Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.
You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.
Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.
He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.
When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.
He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.
Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.
Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.
One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.
Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.
His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.
Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.
“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.
He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Hmmm.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”
“Fuck.”
He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.
“Fuck yeah.”
You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.
“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.
“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”
“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”
“You do.”
“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”
The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”
“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”
“Mmm.”
The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.
He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.
A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”
“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”
Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.
Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.
Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.
“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”
“Fuuuuck yeah.”
His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”
“Shit shit shit shit.”
You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.
The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.
For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.
“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”
You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”
He pauses. “What?”
“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”
“Then why stay there?”
You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”
“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”
“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”
He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”
#yoongi smut#suga smut#min yoongi smut#bts smut#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#suga fic#suga fanfic#bts fanfic#bts fic#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#mafia yoongi#mafia bts#minors dni#minors do not interact#halis happy agust
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detailed aot boy hc’s
cursing , fluff , real life chronicles , proof read later .
connie would most definitely be one of those boyfriends that when you would be like “bae, you wanna watch baddies east wit me?” he’ll be like “hell naw girl.” next minute you be watching it, his ass know everything, everybody. “rollie big ass pissin me off bruh.”
ony makes the jersey club remixes.
but eren and connie get tf down and make most of the jersey club dances.
armins obsessed with gypsy rose. don’t even ask.
connie and ony used to get tore tf up by them switches from outside. they moms have each other permission to whoop them. that’s how bad they was.
eren was a clumsy ass kid. he got scars from when he was a toddler.
armin got into so many secret bathroom fights that nobody knows about.
connie is not friendly fr. he friendly to people he know but he really mean asf to people he don’t know. and that goes for girls too. (only if they try to act all hard and shit.)
jeans teeth are highly sensitive to cold things. he lowkey hates cold water and can only eat ice cream really carefully.
connie used to have a head full of hair when he was little but his mom got tired of doing it was cut it off.
eren was (and lowkey still is) tender headed asf.
ony wasn’t able to watch dennis the menace, rarely able to watch home alone, or problem child because every time he did, he’d try to copy what they did.
armin rage quits a lot. like… a lot. so he always has a new set up or console every month.
jean bites his tongue every day on accident.
y’all know them knew scars them bad kids be having? yeah, connie got bout three of em.
armin cant keep a girlfriend 💀 the only girlfriend he could keep was you.
jean used to be scared of the cat in the hat live action.
eren greened out a LOT in highschool. nigga was a whole marijuana plant his self. he just calmed down after he graduated.
ony got chased by so many damn dogs when he was younger.
connie tried to fight the principal one time because he tried to suspend him because someone lied like connie got in a bathroom fight.
armin got the attitude of a divorced wife. when i tell you he gets mad so damn quick when people that ain’t his friends try to fuck wit him.
connie get smoked every time he eat freedos around the group because they his favorite chips and nobody knows why he like em.
eren got his door took off the frame one time.
jean tried to sneak out his parents window because they permanently locked his. he broke his arm that same night.
armin loves playing in your hair. like he really loves it.
ony got caught skipping school one day when he was in elementary 💀 that ass whoopin was one he’ll never forget.
eren talks so sweet to you but talks mean irl.
armin hates other girls for real, other than sasha and mikasa, and you of course.
connie dyed his happy trail grey.
y’all know them “play fights” boys be having and then they start hitting hard asf and then be breathing heavy asf when they done acting like nothing happened? connie and ony got into one of them in highschool. also armin and eren, and armin and connie.
eren used to have a bald spot from trying to cut his own hair with a razor.
last but not least, jean used to have that sad simpson pfp in middle school. 😭
#aot x reader#aot headcanons#jeansplaytoy♡︎#eren x reader#eren headcanons#connie x reader#connie headcanons#ony x reader#jean kirschtein headcanons#jean x reader#armin x reader#armin headcanons#aot imagines
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thinking of topper’s gf cheating on him with rafe🤭
Favorite Secret
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader
Warnings: smut, cheating, mentions of alcohol, violence, blood, creampie, unprotected sex, P in V, not proofread
Summary: Your secret affair with Rafe almost goes terribly wrong when Topper decides to call in the middle of a hookup…almost
A/N: omg hii!! it’s been so so long since i’ve been on this account but I got a new job and a boyfriend🤭 life has been very very busy the last like year or so but I got the urge to write for my fav boy so I hope you guys enjoy this quick little fic🤍 and I hope all of you are well!
“Fuck Rafe, feels so good oh my god” you cried out, arching your back as your eyes rolled back when his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you. It was fucked up, screwing around with your boyfriends best friend, especially when Topper treated you so well. He bought you everything you asked for, took you on nice dates, held the door open, complimented you. Never did anything to hurt you…until that night, until that one party changed everything.
“Ugh come on Top, i’m begging you to just come for like 10 minutes. If you still don’t want to be there after that we can leave and just come back here, watch movies or something” you’d been begging for the last hour, it was the biggest party of the year and his best friend was hosting but he said he was too tired to go. You knew it was actually just because there had been whispers on the island that Sarah planned to crash it with John B and their new pogue friends.
As much as he swore to you he was over it, you know that wasn’t true and you were fine with it. You trusted him, after all you were the one there for him when she broke his heart the first time, having to be the one to pick up the pieces every single time he gave her chance after chance, you knew what it’d done to him and his trust. Having to risk seeing her there with the guy she cheated on him with didn’t exactly sound like such a fun time.
“Listen I love you, but I really would just rather stay in tonight okay babe? There will be many more parties that we can go to in the future” he said, giving you a soft smile and cupping your cheek with his hand. He could see the disappointment on your face and felt bad, you were obviously excited about this and here he was shutting it down over rumors.
“Okay, whatever you want to do” you let out a defeated sigh and nuzzled your cheek closer into his palm, not wanting to argue over something like this. It just wasn’t worth it and you did enjoy nights in with just the two of you, plus he was right, there would be another party by next weekend.
“Damn it” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly, “Okay okay, 10 minutes and that’s it, deal?” he barely got out the last word before you were squealing and throwing your arms around his neck He wrapped his arms around your waist and let out a small laugh, the smile on your face lighting up the whole room.
“Thank you thank you thank you! We’re going to have so much fun okay? You’re not going to want to leave by the time those 10 minutes are up, this is going to be the best night ever” famous. last. words.
Everything was great, the two of you were having the time of your life. Drinking and dancing together, talking with Rafe and a few of your other friends, then you slipped away for five minutes to use the bathroom, 5 minutes. Who knew so much could go wrong in just 5 minutes.
You walked out to see a crowd forming around two people and heard shouting, you’d expected to walk over and see two guys fighting like usual. Both of them far too drunk to even make contact with the other, but instead you saw your boyfriend on top of John B, his fist connecting to his cheek over and over and over again. You didn’t even like the kid but seeing blood and spit fly from his mouth and his gurgled wails of pain made you feel bad and you knew you needed to stop it.
You saw Rafe standing nearby watching, small smirk on his face as his eyes darted from the two boys to his sister begging Topper to stop while she sobbed. You walked up to him and touched his arm to bring his attention to you.
“Y/N! What’s up?” he said it so nonchalantly, like the scene in front of you wasn’t even happening. You knew he hates the pogues, hell you know he’d let John B die right then and there and feel no remorse, but he was the only one you knew had even the slightest chance of stopping it.
“Rafe you have to make them stop, it’s over okay? If you guys wanted to teach them a lesson i think they’ve learned it so can you please make it stop?” you could see him thinking about it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly and eyes going from you to Topper and John B to Sarah and then back to you.
“Mmm, I don’t know Y/N/N…kind of feel like he deserves it don’t you? I mean my slut of a sister cheats on my best friend, your boyfriend, with that good for nothing pogue and then they have the nerve to show up here? To rub it in his face? Why should I stop them?” he cocked his head and gave you a smirk, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his red solo cup full of god knows what. You knew the only way to convince him was to use the one card you knew would work, the one you hated using against him in all the time you knew him.
“Because you don’t want your dad finding out about it. You’re not even supposed to be throwing parties here, what happens if a pogue ends up dead because of the party and Ward finds out? I couldn’t care less if he dies, i’m just trying to save your ass right now so please” you saw his jaw clench, watched his chest start rising and fall slowly, more heavily than before, and you knew it worked.
“Fuck! Fine, i’ll handle it” he yelled before throwing his cup on the ground and walking over to the two, by this point John B was barely conscious and it’s like Topper was in his own world. Rafe walked over and pulled him off by the collar of his shirt before ushering Sarah to attend to her boyfriend, screaming that the party was over and for everyone to get the fuck out.
People quickly dispersed, whispering to each other about what just happened, until it was just the three of you left at tannyhill. Top was still fuming, veins bulging out, sweat dripping down his forehead, chest rapidly heaving, knuckles bruised and bloody, a crazed look in his eyes. You tried to walk up to him to calm him down but it’s like he couldn’t even see you, he instead turned around and walked to his jeep before getting in and driving away, leaving you stranded.
“What the fuck?!” you screamed, standing at the bottom of the driveway watching the taillights disappear as they got further and further away.
You walked back up to the porch where Rafe was waiting, looking awkwardly at the ground unsure of what to say. What are you supposed to do in this situation other than offer them a ride…or in this case alcohol.
“I’m sorry Y/N, that was shitty of him. Give him some time to cool off and he’ll come back to his senses, if you uh, if you want you could just crash here. I would offer to drive you home but you know…” he said, making a brief gesture to himself “i’m kind of drunk so, don’t really want to risk hurting you. There’s plenty of alcohol if you want to just get drunk and pass out in the guest room, the beds freshly made and I think Sarah still has some clothes here that would fit you.”
“Thank you Rafe, that’s really sweet of you. Do you think you could um, stay with me? Just hang out here and talk, drink a little, I just don’t want to be alone right now” you sounded so pathetic, tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.
“Yeah, yeah absolutely”
One drink turned into another and then another, the both of you drunk and giggling while you talked. And then it happened, one little glance at his lips in a moment of shared silence, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear, and you were in his lap kissing him. His hands roaming all over your body until you were pulling away to tell him to take you to the bedroom.
Clothes flying, drunken squeals and giggles slipping out between your moans, the way he made you feel, those were the only things you can clearly remember. And then you woke up the next morning staring at his naked chest, but you didn’t feel guilty for it, instead you wanted it to happen again.
And it did, it happened multiple times a week. Topper did apologize, made up for his behavior that night, but you’d already got a taste of Rafe and now you were hooked. He never suspected anything, didn’t notice the little shared glances between the two of you when you all hung out, the way Rafe’s hand would brush against your thighs, his little whispers in your ear that made you squirm, he was just happy you forgave him. You never thought you’d be at risk getting caught until now, when you were on all fours and Rafe was thrusting into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your hip to pull you back into his cock. The both of you were so lost in pleasure that Rafe almost didn’t hear his phone going off, he quickly moved to grab it off the table and answer it.
“Topper, what’s up man?” your eyes widened, panic starting to kick in. You’d thought it was over, he knew, someone had seen something and told him, he put the pieces together, he was calling to tell him he knew.
“Y/N? Yeah she came by to pick something up, said she left it here the last time you guys were over and she had to be out this way anyway. Think she’s still upstairs” you let out a moan when he thrusted back into you unexpectedly, turning your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. He just gave a a smirk and held his finger to his lips before moving it back to your hip and pulling you back into him to meet each thrust.
You dropped your face into the mattress to muffle any loud moans, pure bliss taking over your body each time Rafe’s cock pressed against that little spot inside your pussy, hoping the call would be over soon. And then the son of a bitch flips you over, puts you on your back and gives you that look. You know, the one that just screams ‘i’m up to no good and you’re about to hate me for this’.
“What are you doing?” you whispered, looking up at him in confusion while trying not to make a sound.
“Actually, she just came down. You wanna talk to her real quick before she finishes up and heads that way?” if looks could kill he’d be six feet under right about now, you shook your head but it was too late, the phone was by your ear and you had no choice.
“Hey baby” it came out shakier than planned and you hoped he wouldn’t question it, it was a lot harder hiding the fact you were cheating on your boyfriend when the man you’re cheating with had his cock buried deep inside your pussy thrusting into you like his life depends on it while on call with said boyfriend.
“Is everything okay? You sound a little winded babe” he was always so concerned, wanting to make sure you were okay at all times if he even suspected something was wrong.
“Better tell him you’re okay princess, don’t let him find out his best friend is balls deep inside his girlfriends pretty pussy” Rafe whispered in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and chest.
“Yeah, just a lot of running around the house looking for my ring is a-all” you stuttered out when Rafe pushed all the back into you again, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.
“Okay…well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? There’s this really nice restaurant i’ve been wanting to take you to, finally managed to get a reservation, and there was something I wanted to talk to you about” you weren’t even fully listening to what he was saying to be honest, you were paying more attention to how good you felt and the smell of Rafe’s cologne, the way his skin felt against yours, how your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly.
“Yea-yeah babe. Sounds great” you were about to let out a moan when long ring clad fingers found their way into your mouth and you, on instinct, bit down slightly.
“Great! I’ll be at your place to pick you up in like an hour okay? I love you”
“Great! Love you too bye” you quickly got out before hanging up and letting out a moan, digging your nails into Rafe’s back.
“Fuck baby i’m close, you want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want a little reminder that even if you’re with him, you’ll always be mine?” you could only nod, small whimpers filling the room.
A few more lazy thrusts before he pushed all the way into you and stayed there, feeling his cock twitch while he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenching around him while you came at the same time, head thrown back and lips parted moaning his name, a white ring forming on his cock from your cum mixing with his. He pulled out after a few seconds and pulled you to your knees before sliding his cock in your mouth.
“Suck it off baby, just clean it up for me” and you did, licking every drop of your cum off his cock before he pulled out and got dressed.
You went to grab something to wipe the cum away when he stopped you.
“Nah, you go on your little date with my cum leaking out of you”
You gave him a dazed look before nodding and throwing your dress back on followed by your shoes, giving him a kiss and heading for the door.
“That was fun Rafe, i’ll call you later okay?”
“I know you will pretty girl, I look forward to it.” the smile on his face was genuine, not one that he had after a meaningless hookup, but one of true happiness. You brought out the best in him and he couldn’t even have you in any way other than this.
“Me too, I better go now. See ya” you were almost out the front door when you heard him yell your name. You turned around to see him leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting to see what he had to say.
“You’re my favorite secret”
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#obx imagine#rafe cameron smut#topper thornton imagine#rafe smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe outer banks#topper thornton#topper thornton x reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks smut#outer banks fic
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sharing the news || matt sturniolo part 2
matt x fem!reader
summary: after a while you decided its time to share the news of your new chapter in life with Chris and Nick
warnings: pregnancy
word count: 1,5k
a/n: thank you for over 100 notes under part 1! I decided to continued the story. I hope you will like it!
It's been a month since me and Matt found out that I'm pregnant. It’s been hell of a ride so far. We somehow managed to talked Chris and Nick out of my little episode and told them I just got my period and was really upset, tired and need Matt to go to the store for me. I spent entire next two days in Matt’s room trying to figure out our situation. I was also constantly sick and anxious. After than I just tried to be as normal as I could so no one would be suspicious.
At first it was like I didn’t know what I should do. But then I found myself thinking about the baby with my hand on my stomach and I knew I wanted to keep it. I also did hear Matt talking to my belly in the middle of night which made me cry so hard in the bathroom because of how cute that was.
Today was my first ultrasound appointment to confirm the situation and check if everything is alright.
“You know… I was thinking that if everything is good I would like to tell Chris and Nick and then we can decide how and when we want to tell the rest of the family” Matt looked at me when we stopped on the red light.
Keeping this a secret form his brothers was really hard for him because they always talked about everything with each other. Which was scary for me at first. Their whole relationship and building my own with Matt but also becoming part of theirs. Now I just admire the bond between them.
“Yes I was thinking the same” I smiled at him and put my hand on his thigh. I was nervous about only one thing.
“What I was thinking… Is that I will literally jump if your fucking triplets genes worked too hard and there is more than one of those” I said what was on my mind recently.
“Oh my goodness… I didn’t think about this” He put his hand over his mouth.
He was clearly scared now.
“We giving one to Chris in that case” I said seriously.
“Please , we are never leaving our kids with Chris, ever” he said.
I only laughed at that and patted his leg.
“It’s gonna be all good Matt, let’s manifest it’s only one for now” I said.
“Baby… I know this month wasn’t ideal for you and we both tried to cope with the fact that we’re going to have a baby but also only us knowing for now is really special” He looked at me for a second and his eyes went back to the road.
That was also exactly how I felt and I leaned forward to him and kissed his cheek.
“I love you Matty… I know this is all hard but you’re right” I said.
“I love you too sweet girl… okay we’re here, let’s do this” He parked the car and took a deep breath.
Our appointment went smoothly. They did my blood test which confirmed that I’m pregnant. They also did bunch of other tests to see if I’m all good and healthy. Thankfully I was. The last step was the ultrasound.
“Alright parents…” The doctor said and I gasped at the cold of the liquid that she put all over my lower belly.
She called us “parents”, that took me by surprise and I felt so weird.
“Ready?” She looked at me and smiled and I only nodded and closed my hand on one of Matt’s hands.
She started the thing and looked at the monitor. We couldn’t see it just yet.
“Okay… I found it… everything looks great. The baby is healthy. Looks like you’re about 6/7 weeks pregnant” She said.
“Only one?” Matt asked and wiggled on the chair.
“Oh my Lord, Matt… He is a triplet and we were kind of scared that you know… there’s gonna be more than one” I laughed and looked back at the doctor.
“Yes there’s only one” She laughed as well and turned the screen so we could see it too.
I felt like my heart skipped a beat when I saw a little thing moving on the screen. Like a dot. But I knew it’s our baby.
“Oh my…” I said and she pushed some kid of button and sound of a really fast heartbeat started to play from the machine.
“Is that?..” Matt gasped as well.
“That’s your baby’s heart beating… it’s really fast that’s normal and that’s actually really good. The baby is really healthy, you guys… congratulations” She said with a big smile.
But both of us were speech less. I caught Matt swiping tears from his cheek with a corner of my eye. That moment was something you can’t explain. You need to experience that yourself to know how much love I felt in this moment.
When we were back in the car I put all of my stuff in the back seat, closed the doors and turned around to go to my doors but I was met by arms of my boyfriend.
“Oh Matt…” I said hugging him back.
He hid his head in the crock of my neck and I run my fingers through his hair. I felt tears on my skin and I couldn’t help as my eyes started to water as well.
“We’re going to be okay. We can do this Matt. Together” I said but my voice broke I couldn’t exactly feel what’s happening.
“I know… y/n I’m just so happy that’s it’s overwhelming” He said pulling back to rest his temple against mine.
“I feel exactly the same way” I whispered looking him in the eyes.
He kissed me and pulled me even closer to his body. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.
On our way back we stopped by target and some other places to get Nick’s and Chris’s favorite snacks, drinks and some funny, cheesy stuff that had “cool uncle” on it.
At home I put all of it in two boxes and also added a picture from the ultrasound to each.
This situation was so unreal for me and Matt. They were actually filming in the kitchen now. I really wanted to have their reaction on camera, so we told them that Matt wanted to do some kind of unboxing with their eyes blindfolded and they would have to guess what’s in the boxes.
When he texted me they are ready I took the boxes and come to the kitchen and put them in front of them and stood behind the camera.
“Okay you may open them” Matt said.
They started to pull stuff out.
“That’s bullshit it’s clearly Pepsi and popcorn” Chris said.
“Yes and that’s my own lip balm” Nick said annoyed.
“Okay how about this?” Matt took an ultrasound pictures and put into their hands.
“Piece of paper?” Chris said.
“No” Matt said and looked at me.
“Picture?” Nick said and showed it to the camera.
“Yes, it’s a picture” He nodded and smiled to the camera.
“Picture of us?” Chris asked and opened his can of Pepsi.
“No… but picture of someone that is in a room with us” Matt said.
“Oh my gosh you fucking freaking me out right now, what the fuck, are you a medium or what” Nick said an put the picture on the table.
“Okay… maybe just take your blindfolds off and Chris… you might want to wait with that fist sip” I said looking at them.
“I didn’t know you were here…” Nick said and started to undo the bandanna on his head.
I bit on my nails as I watched them taking those off. Then they looked at the boxes and I felt like I stopped breathing for a second.
“What the actual fuck? Is this some kind of prank?” Chris asked as his eyes widened.
“Oh my gosh are you kidding me?” Nick looked at me and stood up.
“Chris you owe me 1000 dollars… I knew it!” He hugged me tightly and I put my arms around him.
“Did you two bet on me being pregnant? What the hell?” I laughed.
My stress went away because how could I be stressed around them.
“I actually forgot that we did” Chris said and gave Matt a big hug.
“You guys… I don’t know what to say” Nick said pulling away from me.
“Well…. To be honest we don’t know either” I said and Matt only laughed.
“Yes… this feels really like a dream more than real life” Matt said looking at his brothers.
“Wait… are we first to know?” Chris asked.
“Of course you are… who else?” Matt looked at him and Nick went closer to them and they three shared a hug and than looked at me.
“Come here mama” Chris wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Never, ever call me that again” I said seriously while coming into the hug.
They laugh and we stand like that for a minute or two.
“Okay I love you all but all three of you smell like three different colognes and I might throw up” I said stepping back.
This baby will be the luckiest baby in the whole world having them as a family.
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets
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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!
Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.
He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.
He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.
But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.
Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?
“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.
His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.
“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”
“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.
Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.
Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.
Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.
“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”
Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.
Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“
Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”
Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.
Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.
Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.
“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“
The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.
They were covered by the van but, still.
“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.
The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.
Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”
He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.
Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.
Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.
Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.
He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”
Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.
Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.
-
Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.
Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.
And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.
Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.
That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.
It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.
Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.
He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.
And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.
Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.
“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”
He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.
“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.
“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”
Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”
There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.
He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”
“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.
“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.
“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”
Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.
Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.
He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.
Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.
Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.
For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.
Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…
“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”
Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.
“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”
Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.
“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”
Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.
“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”
Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.
Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.
Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.
He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.
The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.
“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.
“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.
It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.
Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.
For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”
Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.
Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.
“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.
“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.
“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.
It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.
Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.
He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.
He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.
It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.
“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.
“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”
He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.
“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.
Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.
Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.
This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.
“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.
“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”
Steve grins wolfishly.
Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.
“My go.”
This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.
“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.
“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.
“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”
Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.
“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”
Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.
Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.
“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”
And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.
-
and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves
tags below:
@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre
#posting this cos i need to study and it's driving me insane i need it DONE#its been at like 96% finished for the last 2 days#FINISHED THIS MORNING#FINALLY !#hopefully on that fun touched starved moment that the whole first piece was based on#yet again#gay ppl in my phone.... i love u#hope this feeds u good#steddie#ruby writes steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#touch starved steve harrington#can i series#and that's a fookin wrap dear god i need to do other things#if u like this u should come and tell me so we can kiss#on the lips#prommy <3
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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your period cramps are especially bad one night, and, after letting him in on a secret, eddie offers himself up to help you feel better.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | eddie munson (stranger things, 2022) x fem!reader
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut (minors dni, , period sex, oral and fingering f!receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex) mentions of blood, praise kink, master kink, everyone in this is 18+ and if you aren't, you shouldn't be reading it!
��𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i’m riding the crimson wave and need a sweet eddie to help get rid of my cramps so i wrote this and am living vicariously through it lol
“What’s wrong, baby?” Eddie asked, smoothing his hand down your arm. “You seem really down today.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” you assured him. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” Eddie asked. “Because you’re not trying to sneak into my lap or anything.”
It was true. You had been sitting on Eddie’s bed with him for almost an hour now, absorbed in your book and almost fully ignoring Eddie. Your reason was simple, though; your curled-up position against his pillows eased the painful cramps in your middle. If you tried to move, the cramps and aches got worse, and curled up was the best position for you.
Eddie had been sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out a Metallica riff by ear. He had been making good progress, too, until he had stopped and turned to you.
“I’m sure,” you told him. “I’m just reading, that’s all.”
“Really?” Eddie asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. Doesn’t seem like reading to me, princess.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m just… Crampy, you know?”
“Aw,” Eddie pouted, and he grabbed your hand and kissed your fingers. “Does your tummy hurt?”
“Eddie,” you sighed. “I’m not a child, my tummy doesn’t hurt. I’ve just got period cramps, okay? And sitting like this makes them hurt less.”
Eddie strung off his guitar and set it on its holder in the wall, and he moved carefully to you. He put his arm around you and tugged you close into his body, and you buried your face in his warm chest, breathing in his scent of stale cigarettes and cologne and his natural musk. Eddie was always a comfort to you, especially in moments like these, and you kissed his chest through his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie uttered softly, and he smoothed his hand down your head. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
“Nothing,” you said, then, a moment later, upon second thought, added, “Have you got any Tylenol?”
“I think so,” Eddie said, and he started to get up, but you tugged him back, whining softly. “Baby, I can’t get it for you if you don’t let go.”
“But I want you,” you mumbled, and Eddie pouted at you.
“My sweet girl,” he whispered, and he kissed your forehead. “Fine. I’ll stay. But seriously, is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”
You knew of one thing he could do, but you were unsure of if he would want to. You had heard that, apparently, having an orgasm would help ease period cramps and, while you didn’t feel apprehensive about asking, you figured Eddie would want nothing to do with that. Your anxiety spiked in your chest, and you swallowed thickly. “I-I heard this rumor,” you began softly. “That period sex… Y’know?”
Eddie laughed lightly. “No, baby, I don’t know,” he said. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? All you’ve gotta do is ask.”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “I mean… It’ll get messy.”
“I’ve got towels,” Eddie said simply.
“We’ll get messy.”
“I’ve got a shower too,” Eddie told you. “If it helps you feel better, I’m willing to try anything.”
“But the blood—”
Eddie surged forward, and he pressed his lips to yours. His kiss felt hot on your mouth, heavy and hot and arousing, and his hand touched your cheek lightly as his tongue pressed past your lips and into your mouth. Your body reacted to him before your mind could think of it, and your legs turned to nudge Eddie’s with your knee.
“Fuck the blood,” Eddie whispered. “I’m not afraid to get a little bloody. Anyway… That’s pretty metal.”
“You…” you began, and trailed off as Eddie kissed you again. His hands fell to your waist, and he tugged you fully underneath him as your hands tangled in his hair. You would always fall to Eddie’s charms. You moaned as his tongue dominated your mouth again, his hands flitting all around your body to touch every part of you. Finally, his hands found home on your hips again, and his fingers dug into the waistband of your shorts as he broke the kiss.
“What d’ya say, baby?” Eddie asked. “Gonna let me fuck you right now?”
“Please,” you whined, and Eddie’s skilled hands tugged down your shorts. He captured your panties at the same time, and you cringed as your pad crinkled with the movement.
“Oh, baby, please don’t be embarrassed,” Eddie pleaded quickly, seeing your discomfort in your eyes. “Look, we don’t have to if you think you’re gonna be uncomfortable. I’d love to, but if you don’t want to—”
“No, no,” you said quickly. “I-I want to, it’s just… I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. Just keep going.”
“Okay,” Eddie said gently, his eyes still wide and watching your every move. “Seriously. Tell me if you’re over this and we’ll stop.”
“Eddie, please,” you whined. Your pussy was throbbing just by being exposed to him, and you added, “I want it. I do. You should get a towel, though.”
“Right,” Eddie nodded, then he seemed to snap out of whatever trance the sight of your pussy had him in. “Right! Towels…” He got up from the bed, tugging his jeans higher on his hips, and he mumbled to himself as he went to the bathroom and retrieved a few towels. You took the time to strip off your shirt and bra, and you rubbed your thighs together for any hint of friction as Eddie half-jogged back into the bedroom and shut the door with his foot.
You could see his erection pressing against his zipper as he mumbled, “Lift up your hips, baby,”, and you grinned as he carefully spread out one of his towels on the bed below you, settling down a second one for good measure. His eyes were bright as he watched you squirm to get comfortable, and he smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. This one was quicker, just a hard peck, before he pulled back and tugged his shirt up and over his head, tossing it in the corner.
He was back on you in a second, jerking his thigh between your legs, and his mouth met yours in a messy kiss, open mouths and wandering tongues. You loved making out with Eddie, especially the nights where no clothes would come off and you were left pathetically grinding against his thigh to cum. You did just that, rubbing your pussy on his leg as you moaned into his mouth, and your brain caught up with your body quickly. “Shit, Ed, I don’t wanna get blood on your jeans,” you started, but Eddie laughed.
“I can wash them, baby,” he said. “Seriously, don’t worry about staining anything or getting anything dirty or whatever. I can wash everything. All I want you worrying about is when I’m gonna put my dick in that pretty pussy of yours. Alright?”
You nodded, and Eddie kissed you again. His kiss was heavy and demanding, and his fingers reached down and lightly touched your pussy lips, and you squealed as your hips jerked up to get more of his touch.
“How rough do you want me to be, baby?” Eddie asked. “You want that sweet, mushy shit or you want me to be mean?”
“I dunno…” you started.
“What’ll help you get off harder?” Eddie added.
Your tummy flipped at his words, spoken so casually but so beautifully, and you mumbled, “Not really rough, but, like… Enough.”
“Enough,” Eddie repeated, and his hand snaked up to your throat, lightly pressing his fingers into your flesh. “Is this enough for you, pretty girl?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, already feeling the effects of the limited blood supply. “S’perfect….”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re already going brainless,” Eddie chuckled, and he pressed his thigh up into your cunt, letting the rough fabric of his jeans touch your clit. “You’re so cute. Rub down onto me, baby, let’s get you a little wet.”
You nodded in obedience, something you knew Eddie liked, and you rolled your hips down onto his thigh as his leg came up to meet you. He leaned forward and started to kiss your neck, sucking your sensitive skin between his teeth and marking you to all hell, but it only made the throbbing between your legs grow more intense. Finally, a well-timed rock of your hips aligned with Eddie’s hard thigh, and you moaned as your clit rubbed against his jeans.
“Good girl,” Eddie whispered, his breath hot against the wet patches on your neck that he had made. “You want my fingers? Or my mouth?”
“Whatever you want,” you told him, and he kissed your neck once more, just above where his fingers sat. “However you want me…”
“No,” Eddie said firmly, and he removed his hand and titled your head to look at him, his fingers capturing your chin. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell your master exactly how I can please you.”
Eddie knew what he was doing. He knew that you loved when he called himself that. He knew you loved to call him that. He knew that, the moment you called him Master, it was all over for you, and keeping any semblance of a cool head would be impossible.
“M-Mouth,” you stammered breathlessly, and your heart thumped when you remembered exactly what that meant for him. “Oh, but you don’t have to—”
“Hush, baby,” Eddie told you, and he sweetly kissed your cheek. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to.”
With that, he slunk down your body, taking care to kiss over your hips and belly, and Eddie was quick to part your thighs and coo softly at the sight of you. “Already shaking,” he said softly, and he kissed your thighs, easing slowly closer and closer to your pussy. “God, I know you’re gonna taste so good.”
“Like blood, maybe,” you stuttered out, forcing a half-laugh, and Eddie cast his eyes up to you.
“But that’s you,” he insisted. “No matter what part of you it is, it’s you, and I’m gonna love it. You hear me?”
You nodded, your brain a little fuzzy with the praise, and Eddie pushed his hair behind his shoulder before he dived in. His tongue made a long, heavy lick up your pussy, tasting you from bottom to top, and you groaned at the softness of his movements. He was so kind and gentle with it, and he hooked his lips around your throbbing clit and gave it a firm suck as his big brown eyes locked on yours.
You couldn’t help the high-pitched moan that left your throat, and your head fell back on Eddie’s pillows as he fell off of your clit. You could feel your heartbeat in the walls of your cunt as Eddie started a rhythm, licking and kissing and sucking at you. His eyes closed, his eyelashes pressing nicely against his upper cheeks, and he moaned into your cunt. “I was right, baby,” he whispered and, when he came up for air, your own breath caught in your throat at the glossy red-brown hue on his lips. “You taste so good.”
“Jesus,” you panted, and you pressed your hand to your chest as your head tipped back with a laugh.”I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”
“But it feels good, doesn’t it?” Eddie asked. “And those cramps aren’t as bad, huh?”
“I guess you’re right,” you mumbled, and you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “Can you add your fingers?”
“Sure,” Eddie said, and he put his lips back on your clit as one of his fingers prodded at your hole. His finger added to the experience, giving your cunt something to clench down on instead of uselessly throbbing, and your moan caught in your throat as Eddie fucked his finger into you and sucked hard at you at the same time. His tongue danced around your clit as he fucked you hard on his finger, and every inch of him inside you wasn’t enough.
“More,” you mewled, writhing under his grip, and Eddie’s free hand rubbed soothing circles on your hip as his second finger joined his first without hesitation. His rings were cool against your warm skin, and your legs opened wider for him. “Fuck, Eddie, more.”
“No, no, baby,” Eddie said, stilling his fingers inside you. “What do you call me?”
Your heart skipped a beat. “M-Master,” you managed to stutter out, and Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “Please, I want your cock.”
“Good girl,” Eddie said gently, landing a sloppy kiss on your clit. “You’re so good for me, saying please and everything.”
He withdrew his fingers, stained the same color as his lips from your blood, your slick collecting wetly on his fingertips, and Eddie wiped his hand on the towel below him before he went to his belt. “You’re a little sweetheart, you know that?” Eddie asked, and you covered your face with your hands as you squealed.
“Eddie!” you whined. “Stop!”
“No, no, listen to me,” Eddie told you. “You’re so cute, and you’re funny, and you’re kind, you’re the whole package, baby. And I get you all to myself. I’m a lucky motherfucker.”
“Whatever you say,” you mumbled, your cheeks growing warm. “Can you just fuck me already?”
“No problem, babe,” Eddie said easily. He leaned forward, and his warm hands grabbed at your body as he kissed you. You almost didn’t mind the tang of your own blood on his tongue as he kissed you, mouths open and panting and spit gathering on your lips. His kiss was heavy and needy, almost as needy as you were, and you moaned gently into his waiting mouth.
Eddie was quick to push down his pants and boxers, and you gasped at the dark stain on his already-dark jeans, seeping through thinly onto the fabric of his blue boxers. Although, unlike before, where you were worried about making a mess, the mess only made your belly flip and your cunt throb.
He was hard already as he undressed, not having taken too long to become aroused, and your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock as it slapped up against his belly. Once he was fully naked, he slotted himself between your legs again, and he slid his cock up your wet pussy, groaning softly at the feeling. “So wet,” Eddie mumbled. “You ready, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Master,” you replied, and Eddie grinned like the devil as he carefully pushed his cock into you. Even just the head of him was enough to make your head tip back and a moan to leave your mouth, and Eddie leaned forward and kissed your open mouth as he pushed in deeper.
“I love to hear that,” Eddie mumbled, and he hissed as he sank fully into you, his balls hitting your ass as he buried himself up to the hilt in you. “Tight pussy, fuck… You’re so good for me.”
His hands anchored themselves on your hips, and he drew himself out of you almost fully, letting his cock drag against your wet walls, and you whimpered when just the leaking head of his cock remained inside you. Quickly, he snapped his hips forward, and the sound of his flesh hitting yours drove you wild. Eddie picked up a quick pace, fucking you just how you asked, rough but not too rough. The bed creaked with every fuck into you he gave, and he huffed through gritted teeth. “This wet cunt,” he mumbled. “All soaking wet, just for me, yeah? Soaked little pussy…”
“Yes!” you cried, and you grabbed at his hard shoulders to anchor yourself to him. If you weren’t touching him, you were afraid that you might have floated away. Whoever had said that sex helped period cramps was right; you couldn’t even feel them anymore. All you could feel was Eddie, the hot drag of his cock inside you, the throbbing of his cock in time with your cunt. “Eddie! Eddie, fuck!”
“Feel that good?” Eddie laughed with another huff. “Yes, baby, scream my name.”
“Eddie!” you whined, digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You were so sensitive, more so than usual, and Eddie seemed to revel in that fact. He fucked you hard, the wet sounds of your skin hitting making your brain turn to mush, and one of Eddie’s hands fell off of your waist and came up to lightly touch your clit.
The slight brush of his finger made your hips jerk, and you mumbled out, “Eddie, fuck… Feels so good…”
“God, you’re so good,” Eddie told you as his thumb played lightly with your throbbing clit. You could feel your heartbeat in every inch of your body, and you squirmed as your body struggled to take everything Eddie was giving you. “Your fuckin’ pussy is good, and you’re so good, my sweet little thing, my girl… Fuck, what is going on?”
“What?” you asked.
“I’m about to cum already,” Eddie laughed breathlessly. His neck and chest were red with the exertion, and you smiled at his confession. “You make me cum so quick, fuck.”
“Please, Eddie,” you pleaded, your hips bucking in time with his, and you groaned as he speared you deep, deep enough to feel in your chest. “Please cum, Eddie, please, I wanna feel you when you cum…”
“God!” Eddie moaned, his lip tugging tight between his teeth. His moan was deep in his chest, drawn out and beautifully raspy, and, when he opened his eyes, the chocolate brown ol his eyes was gorgeous and blown-out, all fucked out. “You’re so fuckin’... Hot, Jesus. I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it, Master,” you told him, and he groaned again before he buried his face in your neck. “Oh, my Master, are you gonna give me your cum?”
“Fuck, yes,” Eddie whispered into your neck, and his scratchy voice made your cunt throb around him, and he groaned again as your cunt squeezed his dick tight. “Yeah, I’ll give it to you, baby. Fuck…” One more fuck into you, and you felt a shudder pass through Eddie’s body as he came hard, pushing himself fully into you and pumping you full of it.
His thumb remained in your clit as he came, urging you to your finish with him, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt the hot coil in your stomach release. “Eddie!” you managed to cry, and you gripped him by the back of his neck as you came. Your head felt fuzzy as you gushed around Eddie’s cock, throbbing and milking him for every bit of his cum, and you groaned softly when he slowly began to fuck in and out of you, riding you through your orgasm.
Your ears still felt full of cotton as Eddie spoke to you, and you listened through the fluff as he kissed your neck and praised you. “My good girl,” he whispered, remarking you in the places he had made them before. “My perfect girl… And look, baby. Towel did its job. How do you feel?”
You swallowed thickly, and you pulled Eddie, his warm, sticky-sweaty skin molding to yours. Your lips found his, and you moaned softly as his gentleness. He always knew how to make you feel good. “Better,” you told him. “They were right; sex makes cramps go away.”
“Who told you that, anyway?” Eddie laughed, still kissing your neck.
A warm flush overtook your face as you thought about the admission you were about to give, and you giggled and covered your face.
“Oh, now I have to know,” Eddie laughed, and his hands went to your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. When you looked back at him, you couldn’t help but smile at the sweat that had collected on his upper lip and dripped off of his bangs. “C’mon, baby, who told you this wonderful bit of news?”
“I-I read it,” you told him finally. “In Cosmo.”
“Really?” Eddie laughed. “You read Cosmo?”
“It’s not a habit!” you exclaimed, and Eddie kissed your cheek. “I-I was at the library and I was bored and picked it up!”
“Maybe you oughta pick up Cosmo more often,” Eddie said. “If it gives you tips like this.”
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Rookie II 🕷️
you find yourself back at your new job
w/c: 4.7K
pairing: miguel x f!reader
tags: 18+ smut. gloryhole, voyeurism, blanking out, delulu af, lack of food & dehydration (drink water!!!!), room 1, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (do not do this), creampie
part one ~ part three
You still had to be there for another three hours after Miguel left. Your mind was out of the loop and your brain was foggy.
At some point between the halfway mark you switched from blowjobs to messy handjobs but luckily none of the men complained.
Finally it was 4am and you slipped the final dick of the night out of your mouth. You sighed and stood up, fixing your clothes before looking down at the poor rug that was now filled with endless amounts of cum.
You'd also given up on swallowing it all and didn't wanna stain your shirt so you started spitting it out. Momma apparently did raise a quitter.
But only because your mind was filled with the terror of Miguel knowing it was you the whole time. Or even worse, he doesn't know and if you were to reveal it'd all go to shit.
He would most likely fire you and you'd no longer be a part of the spider society which would be so fucked because you rightfully earned your spot there and you absolutely loved being there.
But you were getting too ahead of yourself. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't care? After all he was the one that paid you and even left you such a generous tip.
And technically any side jobs shouldn't be any of his concern, but given this was not any ordinary side job and it is now fully his concern, you didn't know how to go about it.
You rolled up the rug and carried it, you opened the door and walked out putting the rug against the wall so they can wash or burn it, you didn't know which they did.
You closed your door and walked along the slim hallway as the other girls were also getting out and fixing themselves off. You turned to the left and opened up the employees only door, and left it open for the girl that was behind you.
She gives you a quiet thank you as you nod and walk out of the room. You turn to the right now heading towards the entrance that also happened to be the exit.
You turned your head to the right as you walked past a few of the rooms that were still available. You couldn't help but watch again, it was all so intriguing.
But considering you'd been sucking dick the past four hours this wasn't so amusing for the time being so you kept walking.
You were nearing the entrance but first had to walk past the first set of gloryholes. The one that after tonight you oh so desperately wanted to be in.
You couldn't imagine just how tired the girls are and just how much cum they could take. Luckily the girls in that specific room get breaks and switch off every two hours but that still sounds exhausting.
Especially after seeing just how many big cocks came in, it was an exceptional amount. There were a select few you wanted to fill you but you'd have to wait a few days at least until you could.
You watch the girl that has her ass stuck out of the hole and two different men were fingering her as they slapped their cocks onto her ass. Her moans were so sweet and she sounded so pretty.
But you then put your attention to a girl getting ate out by two men on the middle wall. Her legs were tied up and they were really getting in there. Nice to see they don't care if they touch each others tongues and only focus on the girl's pleasure.
On the right side of the wall were three girls getting pounded, all three men looked like big gym guys, braid shoulders and pure muscle. All of them had a lot of stamina and fully focused on fucking their girl right.
You got closer and leaned against the wall watching in admiration and a twinge of jealousy. You didn't know if you could handle only sucking endless amount of dick every night, you already wanted to move this room but patience was key and you didn't have any of it.
You sighed and walked off, looking at the cracked walls and the lights that were flickering on and off. Finally you made it to the booth with the lady and she chuckles upon seeing you, "seems you were a grand hit for your first night Rosie."
You shrugged and grabbed the sign out sheet, quickly signing it before facing her, "felt like a piece of cake."
She laughs and waved you off, "go on, see ya tomorrow."
You wave her goodbye and give her a smile before walking away. You push open the door, instantly feeling the cold breeze hit your skin. Note for the future: definitely bring some kind of sweater.
You took a left upon walking out and walked straight to the alley. It was empty of course so you quickly dug out your bag and swung up to the roof.
You open your bag and quickly find your watch, carefully put it on before opening a portal straight to your apartment, too lazy to swing.
You enter it with haste and are in your bedroom, you place your bag on the floor before slipping out of your clothes.
You threw them in your bin then walk over to your dresser opening up your drawer with shirts and choose the first one you see. You take your bra off and leave it on top of the dresser then put on the shirt.
You then plop down on to your bed and luckily drift off to sleep.
Your body woke you up around midday, about to be 1pm when you get a call from Lyla.
Her hologram appears in front of you as you wiped your eyes and let out a yawn, "oh you look like a mess."
You groan and roll your eyes, "what do you need Lyla?"
"Miguel wants you in his office asap." She chirps and you jump up, eye wide and a wave of anxiety surges through your body.
"Uh did he say why?" You asked and she shrugs.
You sigh and nod, "I'll be there soon."
She nods and quickly disappears as fast as she appeared leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Does he know?
Are you about to get the ultimate lecture of your entire lifetime?
You took a quick shower and put your suit and mask on before opening up a portal to HQ.
As you stepped inside and were in the lobby your nerves only grew and you really hoped that he didn't know. Not only would you die of embarrassment and just die on the spot but you would not be able to speak. Just pure silence.
What the hell would you even say or how could you possibly defend yourself from something like this?
You were overthinking on your entire walk to his office space when you accidentally bumped into someone. "Sorry." You said under your breath and walked around the person to continue walking but they grabbed you and made you face them.
"'Sup with you?"
You sigh and give a weak smile, "Hey Hobie, my bad I'm just all over the place today."
He narrows an eye at you, not believing you but then shrugs and gives you a pat on the shoulder, "Lemme know if you need help with anything, y'know I got you with distractions."
He nudged you and you just playfully roll your eyes, "yeah yeah thanks a lot Hobes, I gotta run."
"Meetin' with the annoying prick today huh?" He says crossing his arms against his chest and you simply nod.
"Good luck, hope ya aren't eaten alive." He says making you sigh and finally walk away from him after giving him a wave.
Now you were even more nervous. What if everyone knew?
Maybe you could've found a different job, maybe McDonald's or whatever the fuck they had here. Maybe then you wouldn't be in this mess.
But then again you wouldn't have made almost a grand in just a few hours...
So maybe this wasn't the end of the world...
Just then you walked up to Miguel's office and looked at him up on his platform looking at his screens like he always does.
You walk up and stop when he sighs, you clear your throat and he turns around, looking right into your eyes. "Lyla said you wanted to see me?"
More anxiety filled your stomach as he nodded and cleared his throat, "I need you to be honest with me."
Oh fuck.
You gulped and nodded, twiddling with your thumbs as your eyes were growing wide. You were doomed.
He steps down from his platform and walks up to you, looking at you carefully. As if he was inspecting your face. His eyes scanned down to your lips which you felt involuntarily twitch.
Oh shit.
"Call me crazy..." he starts and takes another step forward, then stops, standing directly in front of you. "But I feel like I know something I definitely shouldn't..."
Death.
You needed that so desperately, an emergency, all the anomalies in the facility have been let out, fucking anything to not be there.
You stood frozen, horror in your eyes and just completely dumbfounded unsure of how to respond.
He snaps his fingers in front of your face and suddenly he's looking at you worried, "you okay? You kinda blanked out on me."
You blink and stare at him blankly, what?
"Fine you don't wanna do those reports I assigned you yesterday, it's fine. I'll just ask Jess to do 'em but you really could’ve just been honest with me." He says and backs away from you and back to his platform.
What the fuck-
Apparently your imagination decided to run wild today and not having any food or water in your system since before you went on the mission yesterday, no wonder your brain was playing tricks on you.
You ended up helping Miguel with the reports and took them to the cafeteria to get as far away from him as humanly possible. And to get something to eat.
You ultimately decided on eating some pizza and drinking plain icy cold water. You couldn't believe your mind made that shit up because of the pure anxiety you had since you made the realization twelve hours before.
You ended up doing the reports and making Hobie give them to him because you couldn't dare face Miguel again after embarrassing yourself like that.
The rest of the day flew by as you patrolled back on your earth not wanting to think of Miguel and distract yourself as much as you could.
Which helped a lot.
You ended up helping your friends who were getting jumped by some members of the Maggia. After scolding them for not carrying any type of protective weapon you went back to Earth-928 for your shift at the brothel.
You had forgotten about Miguel until you reminded yourself of last nights events and you couldn't fathom the fact that you could suck him off again tonight.
You were back at your apartment and you grab your bag of the fresh packed clothes and instead of swinging you made a portal straight to the roof of the building.
You do the same routine as you did yesterday, taking off everything spider related then change this time into a pair of leggings and another baby tee.
Some type of progress.
You also grab a zip up hoodie out of your bag before closing it up then swing down the alleyway. You hide your bag in its new designated spot then walk over to the front of the brothel.
Pulling open the door you're greeted with the smell of cigarettes and you notice there's men in line to pay. You walk in and face the wall, keeping your head down so they don't see your face.
Apparently the men are respectful to the women who decide to keep their identities a secret, which was good. You didn't need assholes here having the urge to look at your face and expose you.
And according to Lola the men were overall not asshats and were respectful to all the girls. If they weren't, Estelle, the lady from the booth, had their head security guy rough 'em up or completely scare them off.
A real one at heart and you couldn't help but feel relieved.
You heard the men walk off and go directly to the stairs to the right instead of straight down the hallway. They were going for the one on ones.
You turned around and walked over to Estelle who gave you a grin before passing you the sign in sheet and another masquerade mask. You quickly signed then put on the mask and waved her off then walked down the hallway already hearing loud screams and cries.
Taking notice of the paintings on the walls as you walked through, making a left turn, finally near the first set of glory holes.
Every single man in there was going feral, the whole room was loud and there were all kinds of noises from all over the place.
You shook your head and continued walking. You can't keep getting distracted every time you walk past this specific room.
It'll be your turn eventually.
Finally you got to your designated room and you walked to the employees door and walked the little hallway of doors before finally reaching yours.
You closed the door behind you and immediately walked over to the new rug and sat down on it. You turned your head and threw your sweater on the little table there was before turning back and there was a cock already waiting for you.
Time to work.
The whole night you were waiting on Miguel to show up, to hear his voice, hear him give you sweet words but nothing.
He didn't show up the following day either or the day after after that.
And he wasn't acting abnormal to you during missions so maybe he really doesn't know and you're in the clear.
Maybe you wouldn't have to see him at your second job and everything would be alright.
Your test results finally came in and you immediately sent them over to Estelle who asked if you wanted to switch rooms and with all the eagerness in the world you said yes.
It had been a solid week since you started and every time you were on edge if Miguel would come in.
But now that time has passed and it seemed like he wouldn't come in you could work in peace and actually enjoy yourself like the first day before hell broke loose.
And of fucking course you were going to ask for a room change after a week of sucking dick. It was great, sure, but it was also repetitive and at least with the first room you'd be able to feel all kinds of cock inside you.
So when Estelle asked you which side of the wall you wanted, you immediately asked for the left side of the wall. You wanted your ass out and figured maybe after your break you could switch with another girl if it was too tiring for your legs.
So without a second thought you packed your bag as fast as possible before going through a portal and quickly run to it as you walk out to the roof of the building.
It was already starting to feel like a routine.
You changed out of your suit and put on a skirt along with a baby tee. None of it mattered since you were going to be butt ass naked anyway.
You hopped off the roof and landed gracefully since you've been carefully practicing your landing skills. Some from a certain widow from back home helped.
You hid your bag then quickly ran to the entrance, not wanting to wait any longer.
You pulled the door open and grinned at Estelle, she sighed handing you the sign in sheet and mask before shaking her head, "you're too excited Rosie, ya gotta ease yourself into it."
You sign and shrug, slipping the mask on and giving her a wide smile, "It feels like I've waited ages, I may as well be excited!!"
She chuckles and shrugs, "that excitement will run out quick hun."
You groan as you put the mask on, and wave her off, running the long halfway and hearing the moans of the first room.
Finally.
Everyone who was in this room whether employee or customer was tested, regularly. And condoms were available.
A lot of men didn't like them and not all the girls required them. But you thought since you were on birth control and you trusted the testing process and that everyone was clean you figured you'd leave it optional, so the man chooses whether or not to use a condom.
You walked into the room and went to the second slot that was empty. The guy that was in there to make sure everything was in order stepped in front of you and opened your door for you.
You just had to kind of lay your upper body on the massage like table then he'd close the door. You took off your skirt and put it in the little room you would be in. It was a massage table for you to lay on but then wood surrounding everything else like a box.
You got into position, laying down when you realized your feet weren't straight on the floor, you were somewhat on your tippy toes. Suddenly the massage table is brought down until they reach the floor and you realized the mechanics of it was to purposely move depending on the girl's height.
Suddenly the little trap door closes and you turn your head looking behind you and sure enough your lower half was the only thing exposed to the rest of the room.
You had left your tiny thong on and figured the first man could just use that to his advantage and have fun with you by first getting you wet.
And suddenly you feel a hard smack against your ass making you moan as the sting faded. The man then smacks the other making you moan again.
You could then feel the man's hands grazing your ass before they slowly made their way down to your already needy cunt.
You assumed he might've been on his knees as you felt his breath against your panties. But then again it could be more than just one man which sent a shiver down your spine.
You felt a hand right on your pussy, giving you light smacks, earning himself a whimper from you. He groaned and began rubbing you through your panties which made you spread your legs apart.
You realized this was going to be super trippy and the slightest bit isolating because you were going to receive immeasurable pleasure but couldn't see who was giving it to you or watch it be done.
You'd never know who was fucking you or even see the cocks that would be fucking you. But you still had one of the best senses: touch.
You'd easily be able to cum with just how much every cock would stretch you out and how deep they'd be able to reach.
Not so bad.
You're brought back to reality when you feel a tongue lick down your slit and to your clit. You moan and fold your arms in front you then lay your head on them like a pillow.
You then felt something hit your back and you realized he threw you back your thong. At least he didn't keep it.
You move your hips against his face and he smacks your ass then starts devouring your pussy. You let out a cry and close your eyes trying to imagine what the man looks like.
And already anticipating his cock inside you.
But then you do, you feel the tip of a cock rub against your wet folds when you realize there was still a mouth sucking on your clit.
You gasp as the cock slides in then slams into you. You whimper and feel yourself clench against the new man as the first man continued sucking on your clit ever so gently.
Just then the new guy starts fucking you, at first slowly to let you get use to the girth of his cock but then speeds up, suddenly not caring.
"Fuck!"
You try to keep your upper half from moving so much but it felt damn near impossible as he rammed into you.
He was now full on pounding your poor pussy to oblivion as you cried out feeling so fucking full.
He was groaning and smacking your ass occasionally as he thrusted his hips into yours but suddenly stops and you feel him cum?
What the fuck?
That fucking fast?!?
You were very disappointed and you feft the mouth that was on you disappear but all of a sudden there was a new dick inside you.
Ah perfect timing.
This dick felt smaller and less thick, this one was going to be short and sweet.
At that point you didn't even expect to cum, these men were using you as their very own fleshlight. Which did sadden you considering you just wanted to cum and thinking you would get to with all the guys you'd make cum. But nope.
A whole hour had passed and not a singular man was able to make you cum. Literally every single one edged the hell out of you and you had no choice but to take it. You thought you were bound to cum but apparently tonight didn't have that in store for you.
At least you thought before hearing the familiar sound of heels. You held your breath as another man was rutting into you, slamming into you hard and deep making you cry out in pleasure.
"Mmm fuck!!"
You closed your eyes and fuck yourself back on him which only made him go harder.
You finally felt your orgasm approaching, finally after an hour of straight of edging, you couldn't take it anymore and you were just so fucking close.
And then the expected happened and he came inside you but didn't keep going.
Just pulled out, leaving you pouting for more. You needed to release so badly. You almost thought this was because Lola's presence in the room.
You heard whispers by your hole when your stomach drops, "here's our Rookie! She just got moved up front today actually!" Lola says and you bite your lip only praying to whoever was listening that it wouldn't be him.
Unfortunately no prayers were answered.
"Dropped in at the perfect time then huh?" Miguel's familiar voice says and you couldn't help the tingle it brought to your body.
You felt your heart beat fast and sure enough, there was the spidey sense. Where was that before?!?
"As if this isn't your usual time Miguel." Lola teases and you could hear a belt unbuckle.
Oh fuck-
Oh god-
He was about to-
Were you suppose to stop this?!?
You could technically go on your break now but what would be the point? The guy would help open the door for you and then what? You'd come out and let Miguel visually confirm it's you?
Hell no.
Then you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your folds then slide up to your clit. You bit your lip really wanting to fight back letting out any noises that could help him recognize you.
Then he moved his tip to tease your entrance, dipping it in slightly then sliding it out.
What if you accidentally moaned out his name-
He then slams into you making you let out a loud moan. Shit.
"Good girl." He moans and places his hands on your hips, moving it back into him.
You whimper and cover your mouth, until he starts pounding into you that you have no choice but to moan. He filled you up perfectly and it felt like heaven.
But it had to be your fucking boss of all people?
He just had to have a cock sculpted by gods and that fit literally perfectly into you? It wasn't fair.
And it also wasn't fair how fucking sexy his moans were.
You hadn't realized how sexually attracted you were to him but after this you'd have no choice but to only have that in mind.
Especially with how good he was fucking into you making sure to hit his hips against yours with every thrust. He was fucking you deeper and deeper and yet again you felt another orgasm approach you.
But maybe this time will be different.
And it was.
He was fucking you so good your moans were coming out even though you were covering your mouth. You squeezed him perfectly and everything about this was perfect.
You should've tried to hook up with him before this but at least it was happening now.
And for the time being you had no regrets.
Purely focused on wanting to cum and really hoping he'd be the one to make you cum. He was kind enough last time and gave you so much praise so maybe this time he can repay you and make you cum.
He started smacking your ass and alternating between both cheeks, leaving them both feeling so warm and most likely red. "Fuck baby- feel so good wrapped around my cock like that." Miguel moaned out and started fucking you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess as your legs shook.
"Fuckkk~" you slurred and tried to catch your breath.
He then started slowing down slightly and started hitting deeper, now hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. "Mmm fuck yes- please!" You cried out and move your ass up against him.
He smacked it and continued his pace letting out grunts and moans as you felt your orgasm build up in your belly. "Oh god yes- just like that. Please don't stop-" You murmured and tried to stay still but it was getting harder to.
Your legs were already growing weak and you felt you were finally close to having an orgasm all night.
He then switched his pace now going faster again and fucking you harder again leaving you a whimpering mess for him.
You closed your eyes and all of a sudden forgot where you were and just imagined he was fucking you anywhere else but there.
Maybe in his office on top of one of his desks.
That thought alone was enough for you to throw you over the edge, and it was especially when he started your clit and wouldn't stop his pace after hearing your desperate little cries for him.
You felt him twitch inside you as you gripped his cock making you both moan at the same time. You were already feeling lightheaded and him pounding into you senselessly wasn't helping.
"Fucking cum for me pretty girl- fuck- please cum for me baby." He groans and you cry out, that being enough for you as your orgasm hits you hard and your whole body starts shaking.
You felt your legs shake and you thought you could've somehow fallen if not for the fact he was holding you tightly and steady as he was filling you with all his cum.
You laid your head on the table and breathed out, your walls entrapping him still as he completely slowed down, riding his climax.
"I fucking knew you'd feel so good angel." He murmurs and slowly pulls out.
You whine as soon as you didn't feel him inside you, now feeling completely empty.
You felt his cum leak out of you and you felt your fucked out pussy clench around nothing but air. You heard him chuckle and you just close your eyes on the verge of passing out but you stayed awake considering it wouldn't be best to fall asleep.
This time around you didn't even wanna think of the problems this would cause.
You had finally gotten your well deserved orgasm and that's all you really cared about it, even if it was your boss who gave it to you. At least you got to cum once during this whole thing.
You heard the clink of heels come in and you hear both voices talk but you just ignore them and calm your breathing knowing damn well another man would end up slipping inside you any second now and you wouldn't be able to catch your breath.
But lucky enough for you, no one did that and instead you were left there able to catch your breath, unbeknownst to you was because Miguel was paying every man in there to leave you be for the next half hour.
#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#across the spiderverse#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#miguel x you#miguel ohara imagine#miguel x y/n#miguel o hara#miguel ohara smut#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara oneshot#miguel ohara x you#rookie
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when you hold me | azriel
summary; azriel doesn't realise quite how touch-starved he is until he finally gets a little bit of affection, and he loves it.
word count; 17,202
notes; this is in bullet form. it is insanely long. I have no excuses.
so here’s the thing, azriel's love language is touch, okay?
he’s touch-starved and a physically affectionate person, but he got so used to being cast out that he really repressed that side of himself.
even when he didn’t have to anymore, he had a reputation to uphold, by then.
he's the shadowsinger. the spy. the illyrian brute. the night court terror. silent but deadly. moody and quiet. darkness personified.
not really someone who cuddles, y’know?
now, luckily for him, cassian and rhys have different reputations, and they’re both quite physically loving too, so he doesn’t have to let his need for physical attention show.
cassian is constantly touching him, and everyone.
so he really doesn't struggle to get affection there, he can pout and roll his eyes and frown as much as he wants, but he secretly loves it, and cassian secretly knows it.
all the hair ruffling, arms around shoulders that turn into a headlock, and dramatic leaning/falling into az that cassian does? az eats that shit up. loves it.
rhysand also does a lot of touching. he isn't so much an affectionate toucher; he just does it without realising.
a lot of pats on the shoulders, hugs, gently bumping him with a hand, elbow, or hip to get past, rhysand does a lot of general touches, but az loves that too.
mor has absolutely no sense of personal space, like none whatsoever. she plays with his hair when she thinks it needs styling better, and often lays down with her head in his lap when they have deeper chats, and she dances with him on nights out. if he's ever in urgent need of a little physical affection, he finds mor, because she'll just start touching him as soon as she sees him.
with nesta and elain, he often offers to fly them around, or 'winnow' them where they need to go, because they'll always hold onto him, even just for a few seconds.
going out with feyre means she always stays close to his side. if they go shopping, she links arms with him, grabs his wrist to drag him along when she sees something she likes, and often gets herself so tired out that by the end of the day, she is practically falling asleep on him as they walk home.
he realised that if he offers to sit and pose for her paintings, she'll mess with him and rearrange him until he's sat how she wants.
he purposefully never learned how to do his own tie so someone else would do it ("my hands are too big for fiddly little knots, alright?")
he often asks cass to help him do up the seals on the back of his leathers ("hurts my shoulder trying to reach round and do up the clasps on these damn things.")
he likes teaching people to train because they rely on him for form corrections, and he likes sparring with rhys and cass because that means a lot of wrestling and pushing and he can have fun with it.
basically, azriel takes any fucking scrap of physical affection he can get, in any way.
and then you step into his life.
it's a cold evening in the middle of the winter, and azriel is pouting a little on the couch, because nobody has touched him all day.
in fact, touch has been declining a lot lately.
nesta no longer needs him to fly her around, she has cassian wrapped around her finger.
mor spends most of her time with emerie, whom azriel actually rather likes, which is worse, because he can't even hate her.
elain has been spending most of her time travelling with lucien, and never needs him anymore.
feyre and rhys spend most of their time with nyx now, which he cannot begrudge them for.
and amren was never particularly touchy, he found solace in not feeling like the only lonely one, but now she has varian, and he hates how bitter his jealousy tastes when he sees how affectionate she truly is.
and he doesn't have anyone.
everyone is chatting, and drinking, and the door opens, and in come lucien and elain.
hand in hand, noses and cheeks red from the cold, and hair a little messy from the wind outside.
behind them is you.
azriel almost feels stupid for the way his heart jumps a little when he sees you, he meets new people every day, he's not supposed to be shy he's supposed to be scary, but he can't help it.
you have the same cold-bitten and wind-ruffled look, and yet, unlike the joy on the other two's faces, you're nervous. terribly so.
his ears feel like they're ringing as he watches elain and lucien get comfortable, your hands still stuck into your pockets and your gaze flickering over the room.
your eyes meet his for a second, just a single second, and you smile, but it's so stunning it stops him from being able to reciprocate it until you've moved on, scanning everyone else before fixing your gaze back on the redhead you arrived with.
he's introducing you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into his side, and you chuckle a little as he does.
azriel's skin prickles a little with jealousy. why is it so easy for everyone else to get affection but him? he feels pathetic for even thinking this way.
(Y/N). friend from the autumn court. best friend. the girl who taught him how to heal. sticking around for a while.
he was still processing these words when lucien pushed you forward a little with a hand on your back, your scowl as you stumble, earning a chuckle from everyone else, and a friendly knuckle to the cheek from lucien.
azriel’s gut twists achingly once again.
you go around, you're shaking hands and saying hello, and chatting to everyone, and just before you get to him, elain draws you into a conversation with her sisters. his hand curls into a fist, and he feels like a fucking child all over again.
is he really this worked up over a handshake? a handshake he didn't even get?
phantom feelings of sharp stone under his knees and the whistle of wind between cracks in the cell walls revisit him, when he'd long for the days the healer would come when he was a child to patch up his injuries, because at least the kind old woman who'd tended to him would pat his hair and wipe his cheeks when he cried.
his shadows swirl violently once, twice, as he thinks about it, and he stands before anyone can notice, chugging what's left of his drink and moving to the kitchen to make another.
he's leaning against the counter, staring into his own reflection in the whiskey when you knock at the doorway, forcing him to look up. he settles his usual stone mask over his face, instinct by now, and he raises a brow to prompt you.
"hello. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before. I was worried you'd leave before I could. I'm (Y/N)."
"indeed, I heard." really? that's the best he could come up with? but the kitchen has started to smell faintly like cinnamon and burnt sugar, and his nose scrunches a little at the overly sweet smell, he's not used to anything like it. it makes it hard to think, it's almost dizzying.
you pause on the other side of the island, a small smile coming to your lips, before daring to take another two steps closer, hand stretching out to him. "I'll be sticking around for a while, the high lord thinks you could all use a permanent healer, something about rough play while you're training," the words bring a touch of a smirk to his lips, and your own smile widens when it does. "and I meet the criteria, apparently."
he huffs a bit of a laugh, slipping his own hand into yours, and every buzzing in his ears goes blissfully quiet, every firing nerve settles, and the smile he'd forced becomes genuine when your hand squeezes around his. you shake once, pulling back all too quickly, and he misses the feeling of touch instantly.
"now, elain says you don't like to be touched," wait, no- “so, if you ever want to get together sometime, we can talk about what you’re comfortable with, where your boundaries lie, that sort of thing…”
your words were tapering off, and he realised perhaps he should say something, or do something, or simply react, in any way at all, but he couldn't. because it was just so gut-wrenchingly sweet of you, and he hated it. he didn’t want boundaries. fuck them. destroy them. cross them all. he didn’t care.
he didn’t say that. instead, what he said was, “uh, sure. I’m pretty busy, but I’m sure we could work something out.”
you only nodded, lingering a second longer, and the tension between you both felt like it was stretching on for ages. you were so close, so close, and azriel clenched his hands by his sides once again, trying to fight the telling frown on his face, and the urge to reach out. your hair looked so soft, he’d bet it was, bet it smelled even more sugary, a smell he was rapidly getting used to, and-
and you were walking away, a small smile on your lips, and something deep and unusual within his chest flared a little with panic, and- “wait-”
was that him? azriel really wasn’t sure, he didn’t remember even thinking about making a noise, it just happened, and then- then you turned around, smile still there, a little more genuine this time.
you raised an eyebrow at him this time, prompting him silently the way he had you. he liked it. he smiled back, just a touch.
“I’m sorry.”
“you haven’t done anything to be sorry for, azriel.”
“I’m being rude.” you didn’t respond, and he sighed a little, shoulders relaxing fractionally from the rigid tensing that was beginning to ache a little. “I just have… a lot on my mind. my apologies, for my behaviour. I appreciate your offer.”
“well, physical healer I may be, but mental health is just as important to me. if you ever want to talk, I make a good listener. and, semi-reasonable advice giver.”
he chuckled, a soft sound that he didn’t often make, but merely the way you seemed to perk up a little at his amusement made him want to spend the rest of his life laughing. he didn’t know why.
“I’m not sure how much I can trust that advice, given you are optionally friends with lucien, who truly believes that toast tastes better when it’s a little burned.”
“I didn’t choose him, he chose me. you share your last cookie with the sad little boy at the playground one time, and you get stuck with the seventh in line to the throne for the rest of your life.” there was a fond smile on your lips, and for just as second, azriel revelled in this moment of quiet amusement with you.
then he remembered the same look of amusement on lucien’s face, when he’d had an arm wrapped around you, and playfully shoved you, and knocked your cheek.
and just like that, all the warmth of your conversation was stripped away, a shocking cold like a bucket of water straight from the Sidra on Starfall night tipped over his head. it reminded him just how lonely he was.
“I’d best get going, but, if you come by training with cassian and I, tomorrow morning, I’ll show you around. I assume you’ll be staying at the house of wind?” his heart was beating erratically fast in his chest, one scarred hand smoothing over the spot as it did. he felt breathless, waiting to see whether you’d accept his offer, waiting to see whether you’d reject him. azriel couldn't remember the last time he’d been this nervous.
“I'd like that, very much.”
“until tomorrow, then.”
you murmured something in response, but his heart was beating too fast, his blood rushing too loudly in his ears to be able to make it out. he simply nodded, hoping it would suffice, and left. he must’ve drunk a lot more than he thought.
hours later, when he was laying cold in his bed, his shadows informed him of your arrival. giggling in a somewhat tipsy state, you’d arrived mere seconds before cassian and nesta had landed on the balcony, one hand gripped tightly around lucien’s as he winnowed you in, wobbling slightly in your steps.
your friend had kissed your cheek goodbye, as had elain, even cassian had kissed your knuckles dramatically as nesta rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile of her own.
his bed felt like laying on a slab of ice. alone.
however, exactly one hour and twelve minutes into training, which was exactly thirty-eight minutes after azriel had officially given up on your arrival, you came.
his shadows swirled excitedly, so much so that cassian stuttered a little in his movements as they began to block his sights unintentionally, and the sweet smell of cinnamon and burnt sugar reached his nose once again, flooding the room a moment before you walk in.
he’s distracted, which is ridiculous, he never gets distracted, and he would have chastised himself for it if the blunt side of cassian’s wooden practice sword didn’t do it for him.
azriel’s vision spotted for a second as the wood collided with the side of his skull, teeth rattling, and he hissed out a curse, glare as cold as winter night’s shot at his partner when he began to chuckle.
“something got you all wound up, brother?”
“bite me.”
“not even one whole day and you boys are already putting me to use, huh?”
there was just something about you this morning. azriel really couldn't place it, but you were wearing a smile that made something in his chest clench a little, and as though you could read his thoughts, your hand lifted, rubbing gently over your own chest, over your heart.
“this? this is nothing to worry about, we’ve seen much, much worse.”
you merely rolled your eyes, stepping towards them both and bringing yourself further into the room. you beckoned azriel forward, and he was moving before he even knew what he was doing.
cassian scoffed good-naturedly, turning away to practice his swings against a wooden dummy, and azriel sank down, sitting against the edge of the ring as you came to stand before him. he spread his legs a little, letting you get that little bit closer, and you took it.
he blamed his breathlessness on the intense training he’d just done, not the smell of you overwhelming him like sugary treats and starfall spices.
“really, it’s nothing to worry abou-”
you raked your fingers softly through his damp hair, fingertips gently soothing along his scalp for bumps.
he choked, words dying in his throat on a pathetically breathy exhale that would have embarrassed him had azriel not been feeling pure ecstasy.
your other hand joined it, raking through his hair, pads of your fingers pressing and soothing along his scalp, and azriel’s world went dark. eyes closed, rolling to the back of his head and shoulders sagging a little as you examined for bumps. he almost wished cassian had hit him harder, just so you’d find something.
“is this okay?” your words were murmured, a soft breath for only him to hear, and azriel couldn't even form words;
“mhmm..”
nobody had ever touched him like this, run their fingers through his hair, and when your nails scratched lightly over his scalp before you pulled back, he barely bit back a whine, body feeling like melted butter.
you patted down his hair, he could only imagine the mess it had become, and it took more effort than most battles did for azriel to compose himself. to close the place where his bottom lip had parted from his top to near-pant, to open his eyes and hold them more than a sleepy half-lid, to straighten his shoulders and find some strength in his spine to sit properly. and most of all, to not reach out and beg you to do it again.
the sound of cassian’s grunt as he trained snapped him back into an awkwardly rigid position, jaw tensing a little.
“no bumps or breaks, you’re good to go, shadowsinger.”
“told you so.”
your eyes rolled again, in that gentle and fond way, and he hoped he would see it more. he liked making your eyes roll.
“next time, you need to defend your blind spots better.”
“are you giving me fighting advice?” once again, the smile he gave you was real. two within one day, you were making him break his mask at record speeds. it was concerning, if anything. that was what he chose to call it, anyway.
“you think I don’t know how to fight?”
“I know you don’t know how to fight. I can tell.”
“you can tell? how?”
“you have no grip strength, when you shook my hand last night, no way you could pick up a sword, it would drop right out of your hands. you tripped over your feet on the way over here, and you have zero awareness of your own blindspots.”
you gaped at him, and he couldn't help himself. he lifted a hand, pointer knuckle tucking under your chin to close your dropped jaw, and you huffed at him. his knuckle dragged along your skin for a split second, before dropping away, and he made a fist on his thigh, restricting any more movement. he was being far too needy and indulgent of his desire to touch, lately.
“maybe I didn’t want to hurt you by gripping your hand with my superior grip strength.”
“uh-huh.”
“and maybe I’m just clumsy.”
“I’m not disputing that.”
“and how would you know anything about my blindspots?”
he shrugged, smirking a little at the tendrils of black curling over your shoulders, one of them wrapping neatly around the ends of your hair, pulling them silently off of your shoulders, into a ponytail you had no idea was being formed until the darkness tugged lightly.
you gasped, the shadows skittering away like they were snickering at your shock, and azriel actually bit at the inside of his own cheek to contain his grin.
what was wrong with him lately? maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing there would be a healer around so much, perhaps he needed a check-up.
“alright, fine,” you had a look in your eye, one that he had absolutely no idea what it meant, and for the first time in his life, that confusion seemed to thrill him instead of terrifying him. “then teach me how to fight.”
“why on earth would you want to learn how to fight?”
“well, if I’m going to be out and about playing in the thick of it with you boys when you get yourselves all scratched up, it would probably be useful to know at least a little about defending myself.”
azriel hadn't thought about that. about all the danger he got himself into, about all the danger you’d be getting into. something cold settled in his chest, tight and gripping, making every breath feel a little rough.
he choked that down, too.
“what would I get out of that deal?”
“I’ll heal up all these little injuries, the bothersome ones you always brush off.” he raised a brow, breath pausing in his throat as you reached for him, soft fingers wrapping around his wrist, bringing his clenched hand up. he’d been trying so hard not to touch you, but here you were, touching him.
unwrapping each finger carefully, you smoothed them out, his palm flexing and twitching a little at the featherlight touch you brushed over the scarred flesh.
“like this one, a little paper cut, on the tip of your finger.”
brushing your thumb over the pad lightly, he watched in awe as the tiniest fleck of glowing golden light shone from it for only a second, before the injury he’d made only this morning was gone.
it didn’t bother him, those kinds of wounds may as well not exist at all, that kind of pain was one he was so used to it was a sensation like breathing or walking at this point, but it didn’t matter. he’d take a thousand paper cuts of you’d hold him that softly and fix them that tenderly again and again.
you were offering him a deal, a lot of touches and attention, and he tried not to scream his agreement, and show his enthusiasm too much.
“how’d you know that was there?” he pulled his hand back, your own hovering for a second where you’d held his much larger one, before dropping to your side.
“I sensed it, when I touched you, looking for your head bump, I picked that up instead, it’s the only injury you’ve got. physical, anyway.”
a tense moment of silence followed your words at the implications of your final sentence.
“you’ve got a deal. tomorrow morning we begin. but first, I believe I promised you a tour.”
he stood, putting a reasonable amount of distance between you both. he needed to remember who he was, he needed to remember who he was supposed to be. he couldn't afford to let his own weakness and desire pull at him anymore.
you took the hint, not getting nearly as close to him as you followed him around.
azriel was equal parts relieved and disappointed by it.
for months, the need got worse and worse, the tugging in his chest, the empty loneliness, the phantom feelings of touches he didn’t have.
he expected his urges to touch to go down, blamed it on the cold and the winter, blamed it on all the changes taking place, blamed it on recovering from the war. azriel blamed it on everything he possibly could, hoping it would go away.
every time you trained with him and cassian in the mornings, every book exchange in the library, every weekly checkup that you’d forced them to start doing, it all tortured him, because he was now fixating on every little thing.
except, it didn’t go away. it stuck.
azriel found himself longing more and more for the touches that seemed to be getting less and less frequent. or, perhaps they weren’t, and he was simply needing them more, and he was noticing the lack of them.
he had no idea why your arrival had sent him spiralling downhill, but he was struggling to patch up every crack that was beginning to break in his façade.
even his shadows were struggling, reaching out toward you in every room, searching all corners of it when you weren’t there.
everything just became easier when he started avoiding you entirely.
he skipped a couple of training sessions, an excuse about needing to catch up on work, and you didn’t question it.
he took meals in his bedroom, or after he was sure you’d already eaten, just to avoid you at the table.
he hid every cut and wound, and for the first couple of weeks, you berated him playfully, joking that he should have come and found you to fix them. it took everything he had not to smile, to respond, to prolong these sessions where your fingers were skim gently over his skin, shimmering gold sealing up small cuts and all the bruises, fixing every ache.
after a while, you just stopped. every near-silent check-up or barely-friendly greeting when you saw one another making something cold fill his chest.
but at least that sharp coldness within him was better than feeling completely empty.
it had been almost a full year when your first chance to truly go away with them arose. the air was cold enough that your breath clouded in the sky, snow was sticking to the ground, and there was a permanent layer of ice settled over the top of the Sidra.
it should have been easy, and yet everything that could have gone wrong, did.
the meagre forces of you, himself, cassian and nesta hadn't been nearly enough.
you were terrified, azriel was in and out of consciousness, being half-dragged along through the snowstorm by cassian, who winced every time he put their joint weight on his right foot, and nesta was clutching at her side.
there was blood clotted into your hair from a cut along your forehead, a bruise blossoming on your ribs and you were sure an arrow had caught you across your thigh, but it was so cold, you could barely feel any part of your body anymore.
flying out wasn’t an option, your only teammate who could winnow had been out-cold for nearly an hour, and the inn had been a blessed relief when it had finally come into view.
the patron hadn't even flinched when the four of you had stumbled up to the counter and demanded three rooms, blood dripping onto the floor between you all, snow and mud trekked up the stairs with keys clutched in hand.
“cass, start a fire, nesta, go get as many bowls of snow as you can.”
they did as told, and you began to peel back the layers of protective leather and armour azriel wore, laying haphazardly on the bed where cassian had left him as they scurried.
blood was smeared across skin that had gone pale, and bile rose in the back of your throat as you took in the wounds before you. they were like nothing you’d ever seen.
stripping off the top layer of his leathers, they made a sickeningly wet sound as they hit the wooden floorboards, blood spilling out around your feet in a puddle, soaking into the bedsheets that would never be truly clean again.
cassian hissed as he returned.
nesta’s hands shook as she began placing bowls of snow into the fire to heat.
neither could stomach staying as you began to stitch up the wounds.
over six hours later, azriel was healed and you’d seen to nesta’s cracked ribs, your attention moving to the final warrior who needed help, and ignoring the painful drag of every footstep you took to follow him.
cassian was laying a patched-up azriel onto the bed in the spare room, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth would crack.
“let me look at your ankle, cass.”
you sunk down onto the edge of the bed patting the space next to you once his arms were free of his friend, and he shook his head.
“it’s fine, nothing to worry about.”
“let me look.”
“no.”
“cassian, let me look at your ankle, gods dammit!”
silence filled the room around you both, and for a second you worried your yell would wake nesta, sleeping only on the other side of the wall.
he set himself down, lifting his leg up, and placing his ankle into your lap.
swollen shades of yellow and purple and blue, his ankle had swollen up so wide it was almost the thickness of the rest of his leg, and when you pressed it, his entire body trembled.
“s’gonna hurt a little bit, but only for a second.”
“what about you?”
“what about me?” you mumbled, fingers smoothing over his skin, a soft glow emitting from your hands as you worked.
cassian groaned, eyes squeezing shut as you began to repair the damage.
“I can tell you’re spent. I came to check on you, when you were healing az. you didn’t look so good. does rhysand know what healing does to you? does lucien? does anyone?”
your motions paused, only for a split second, before you were soothing over his skin, hands tightening around him as the swelling began to go down.
“they know. it’s just, I’ve never had to heal something this big before, he was practically dead. but, I’m fine. really. keeping him alive long enough to get here took a lot out of me, but it’s over now.”
‘fine’ was the best you could do. ‘fine’ was a grievous exaggeration, but cassian didn’t need to know that.
your head was pounding so hard you saw spots, your hands were shaking so violently that when they were no longer on cassian’s leg, you sat on them to hide the tremor. you’d sat down to heal cassian’s ankle because you’d nearly collapsed trying to follow him in here, legs giving way underneath you.
“you’re all done.”
he stood, testing his weight on his foot, letting out the same huff of amusement he always did when you healed him up so fast, no matter how many times you’d done it.
“where are you going to sleep? not in the other room, I suspect.”
your nose wrinkled up, the metallic smell of azriel’s blood was still so heavy you were surprised it wasn’t leaking through the walls, the fire in that room still burning from the ruined sheets you’d tossed in to dispose of.
something, something had lurched while you’d been tending to him as cassian and nesta fussed, and the idea of going back into a room where you’d fought just to keep him alive made your head spin.
“I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on azriel. if he makes it through the night, he’ll be fine.”
the truth was, you were nowhere near done. just because you’d stabilised azriel didn’t mean your job was over. it just took a little pressure off the clock. his skin was still too clammy, a fever fighting high, his heart rate was too weak and his skin still too pale. he was a long, long way from mended.
cassian looked dubious, sleep was crawling at the edge of his consciousness, you could tell from the way he swayed on where he stood, shoulders hunched and eyes drooping.
“besides, we’re safer in pairs. go and be with nesta, I’ll be here, we’ll meet up in the morning.”
he finally gave in, the mention of his mate making his head snap to look at the wall she lay on the other side of, like she’d tugged subconsciously to convince him to do as told. you wouldn't be surprised if she had.
the door closed behind him, and you were left in a cold, dark room, with only azriel’s rattling, wet breaths to let you know you weren’t alone.
you used what little strength you had left to make a fire, tugging the sheets out from underneath azriel and hanging them before the hearth to warm, before sealing them around his body.
you stripped off what you could of your own bloody leathers, washing both sets with cold water in the empty dishes of snow you had left, before hanging those, too, up to warm and dry.
settling in beside him, pain like you’d never known flared throughout your entire body as you called on your gift once again.
settling a hand on an unconscious azriel’s shoulder, your eyes closed, beginning to search through for every internal wound, stitching nerves and muscles back together one by one.
you were sweating, but freezing cold, throat raw and eyes stinging but no tears left to give as you gasped for breath.
you kept the fire going, his fever broke, and at some point during the night, azriel began to regain his strength.
he never woke, but you weren't aware you had dozed off yourself beside him until you were startled back awake.
he had rolled over, shuffled weakly across the bed until one arm had slung its way over your waist, cheek pressing into your shoulder, the cool tip of his nose was pressed into your neck.
he was still cold, no matter how many times you restocked the fire to keep it going, searching out for your body heat without realising it.
you lay still for a while, to see if he would wake, but he didn’t.
instead, you fastened an arm around his shoulders, the other threading lightly into sweat-soaked hair, still damp from where you’d tried to clean him up, soothing him lightly.
you used what strength you had left to make sure he stayed in a deep sleep, pain-free and unaware.
nesta was the one who woke you in the morning, looking a lot better than she had when going to sleep the night before, and you panicked a little as you stretched out to find yourself alone.
“good sleep, huh? I’ve been trying to wake you for five whole minutes.”
“where’s azriel? cassian?”
her eyes rolled, but you’d learned her tells, knowing all of it was in love, not hate. “they’re downstairs, paying extra for the ruined sheets and the rooms. storm cleared, we’re ready to go home, so get up and get dressed.”
you shifted, arms barely able to pull yourself up, and nesta’s eyes narrowed a little as you lay back down.
“can’t I have five more minutes? I was having a good dream.”
“you can sleep in your own bed when we get out of this godawful inn and back to velaris.”
“fine, I suppose you’re right. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
she left, and five minutes was more like fifteen as you struggled to even stand up, never mind get dressed, and finally, make your way downstairs to meet them at the entry of the inn.
“‘bout time, I’m waiting on you to get home for a good meal.”
“my apologies, queen nesta.” she grinned, and your gaze moved to the other two. cassian was studying you, gaze flicking to your hairline, and you lifted your fingers to touch the sensitive skin there, still raw, the cut you had forgone to patch up even last night. your sharp glare kept him silent about it.
“the flight shouldn’t take long, and the skies are nice and clear now. we’ll be back in time for lunch.” to emphasise his point, cassian’s stomach rumbled, loudly.
he took off first, shooting up into the sky with nesta and leaving you standing in tense silence with azriel.
“az, how are you feeling?”
“fine.” he almost growled the word out, and your brows furrowed.
he hated doing this to you, the look of hurt that had flickered across your face, but he had to. pushing people away, keeping them out, he was good at that, he was used to it, and it made everything easier.
letting you in, it was far too painful, you would see every raw and damaged and broken part of him, and he wasn’t ready to face that.
when he’d woken up wrapped in your arms that morning, for a shocking second, azriel had felt at peace. for the very first time in his life, he had felt utterly content. like he didn’t regret anything, like he didn’t want anything to change, like he didn’t want a distraction.
and it had terrified him so much that he thought he might be sick.
“you’re a sleep cuddler.” apparently so. you were trying so hard to lighten the mood, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into that, but he couldn't. he choked back the lump in his throat, gaze flickering to the sky for a second, avoiding your gaze.
“I trust that won’t happen again.”
you went unnaturally still, gaze turning sharp on him as you stared, and he still couldn't bring himself to meet your eye.
“that’s all you have to say? that’s it? I heal you up, I take care of you, an-”
“that is your job, is it not?”
the laugh you gave him was cold and harsh. it made him feel like his chest was closing up, freezing over from the inside out.
“right. yes. my job. well, we should get going, I’m rather tired.”
he’d pushed it too far, too far too far too far, his shadows were almost biting at him as they whipped around his body, chastising him for his behaviour, his tone, his every decision.
“(Y/N)-”
“message received, azriel, loud and clear. I want to go home now, please.”
look up look up look up, meet his eye now, he was ready, he wanted you to. you wouldn't. you stepped closer, allowing him to pick you up, before soaring into the sky.
it was one of the worst flights of his life, and tense few hours, the silence azriel normally revelled in felt like it was suffocating him. he could feel the warmth of your magic, even now, swirling around you both to block out the chill until you were landing on the balcony, only moments behind cassian and nesta.
the rest were lined up, waiting for your return, welcoming you back with hugs and shoulder pats, and a table full of food waiting.
hurt.
azriel felt it as his shadows reappeared, catching up to him as he tucked his wings into his back, letting you down slowly.
hurt.
who? his gaze flickered over everyone that was lined up, scanning his friends for injuries.
hurt. hurt. hurt.
you stumbled, knees buckling, and had you not been standing so close to him when you did, you’d have hit the floor before azriel had caught you.
his shadows swarmed around you, until you were barely visible to the rest, and you sank slowly to the ground, letting azriel help you.
hurthurthurthurth-
his shadows recoiled as the heir of day stepped forward, dropping harshly to his knees to cup your face. your skin had paled, your eyes fluttering more closed than open, and your lips were parted with shallow breaths.
“what happened?”
“m’jus’ a little tired, that’s all.”
lucien smoothed a hand over your hair, letting you slump forward until your face was pressed against his shoulder, one hand clutching weakly at his shirt.
“you’re freezing, and you’re so shaky, why can’t you-” he paused, the hand petting your hair moving to rest over your forehead as he searched for something. “you burned out.”
“I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”
“you’re not just-”
“lucien, please.”
he stared, waiting a second, before the air around you both folded, and the space at azriel’s feet was empty. his shadows exploded, a representation of his own panic, before feeding back to him a second later that lucien had laid you in your bed.
“what was that?”
“she did too much,” cassian mumbled, hands wringing in front of himself, and rhysand rubbed his brow.
“how bad was it?”
“bad.”
“what. happened?”
he was ignored as cassian shrugged at their high lord, unsure where to start.
“we got caught off-guard, more of them than we could possibly handle. ness got hit first, az covered her, but it was too much. he- it was bad. I’ve seen soldiers die from a lot less. he would have died. but she held him together. I don’t know how, she just did. enough to make it to an inn, she fixed us up. stayed up with az the whole time, I could hear her moving around all night. I knew she was drained but I didn’t know it was this bad, if I did, I would have.. I would have.. done something. I wouldn't have let her help me too, I would have-”
cassian cleared his throat, walking away with a nod and a promise to debrief rhysand later. nesta followed.
“you knew this would happen? you knew she could burn out, that it would be this bad? you knew, and-”
“I knew, because she told me. she acknowledged the risks, she made the decision. she chose to look after you, she chose her own actions. she looks after us, and now we will look after her.”
his tone was final, and azriel’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
they left, one by one, they all left him on the balcony alone, to tend to the rest of their duties.
you’d pushed yourself to the brink for him, through agony and worse, and he couldn't even bring himself to crack open a little of the box inside his mind he worked so hard to keep sealed shut.
that was the moment azriel decided it was going to have or change.
you didn’t wake for two days. two full days azriel spent swimming in guilt and sadness, a feeling he couldn't place filling his every thought, making it hard to eat, or sleep, or even think.
he felt.. nothing. absolutely nothing.
two days, and on the evening of the third day, while everyone was sitting at the dinner table chatting, and azriel was emptily pushing perfectly good chicken and vegetables around his plate, you emerged.
“hello.”
azriel felt like his heart started back up in his chest.
“can you spare a plate? I’m fucking starving.”
lucien laughed, his head dropping for a second as elain grinned, patting the seat next to her that had been empty for days, the one opposite him, that had been taunting him.
slipping into it, cassian was quick to pile you up a plate, with more food than you could possibly eat, passing it along down the lines as you sunk into the chair next to him.
accepting the food, you settled back into everything like nothing had been wrong, like you hadn't scared azriel half to death, like you hadn't left him feeling adrift, untethered, lost, and he needed to talk to you, needed to make it right-
his stomach rumbled, clenching almost painfully. finally, he thought. he was fucking starving.
he would talk to you after he’d eaten.
the first chance to approach you came when you were sitting out on the balcony, still a little pale, still a little shaky, with a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared up at the sky.
he sat down next to you, silently, trying to find as much comfort in the stars as you had, but his thoughts were spinning too fast. in the darkness, he let his shadows free a little, let them crawl underneath your chair, over the back, around your feet where you couldn't see.
“the skies never look quite like this in autumn. I like it here.” your words were steady and calm, nothing like his heart, and azriel twisted his head to look at you. you were not looking at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“you have nothing to be sorry for, azriel."
he felt like he was living everything over again, you were strangers once again, and that thought made every other one freeze inside of his head, a spotlight focus on that.
“please, don’t shut me out.”
you looked at him now, studying him like a journal, brows furrowing a little.
“I never shut you out, azriel. you are the one who shut me out. you made it very clear that you didn’t want my touch, nor my friendship, nor even my company. it’s okay, I don’t expect everyone to always want my companionship, but next time, at least a ‘thank you’ for saving your life would be nice.”
“thank you.” the words tumbled from him like water spilling from the sky when a storm broke. “thank you, for all of it. for staying up to make sure I made it through the night, and for.. for caring.”
you help his gaze, nodding once. “you’re welcome.”
you looked back to the sky, ignorant to the shadows crawling higher and higher up, languidly, begging him to let them curl around you, still fearing for your wellbeing.
“I like to be touched,”
he spoke the words without breathing, without looking at you, still staring at the stars, even as he felt your attention move to him. it felt like a weight being lifted off of his chest, but it was terrifying, a confession spoken now that he could never take back.
“I like to be touched. I love being touched, but it’s not who I am. I am not supposed to be.. soft. I’m supposed to be strong, and powerful, and it terrifies me that I can be so- that I need it. I love being touched, but I can’t ask. They can’t know. I can never tell them.”
you didn’t ask who they were, and you didn’t ask why. somehow, he knew that you just understood.
“you scare me. you scare me more than anything, because for all of my life I’ve been just fine, centuries suppressing this need and managing it all, and then one year ago you come along, and everything changed, and I don’t know why.” the more he spoke, the lighter he felt, some deep and suffocating binding was finally loosening within him.
“perhaps 500 years of pretending not to need attention, not to need love, has finally started to take its toll.”
you were right, he knew you were, but it was still a hard truth to swallow.
“you know, we all have our love languages.”
“our what?”
“love languages.” there was a soft smile on your face when he finally braved looking at you, and it made him feel secure, like his confessions were in safe hands, like for once, he didn’t have to carry every burden on his own. “there’s five.”
“five?”
“yes.” you twisted a little more toward him. “rhys and feyre, they’re the same. they just want to provide for the people they love. perhaps it’s why it’s so easy for them to love one another. both of their love languages are similar. rhys’.. his is gift giving. he shows you all his love through what he can give you, buy you. he houses you all, spoils you constantly, makes sure you are always provided for. he does it sneakily, like buying cassian’s favourite cookies or making sure there are always fresh flowers for elain.”
“what about feyre?”
“hers is acts of service. she spent years providing for her family, she went through hell for tamlin, and then through war for rhys. she was willing to give everything for them all, she continues to do so. elain, hers is quality time. when lucien began inviting her to the spring court, they used to do nothing but sit or walk in silence for hours in the gardens. or in the living room, when he’d read while she learned to knit.”
“what about nesta? she doesn’t fit any of those boxes.”
“no, she doesn’t.” whether you’d noticed them or not, you didn’t say, but azriel’s shadows were beginning to crawl up and over you, weaving around you in lazy swirls as you whispered quietly between yourselves, to the background noise of your friends in the house. “nesta’s love language is words of affirmation.”
he didn’t need to question it, that made perfect sense.
“yours is touch. everyone has a love language, azriel, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. it’s simply who you are.”
somehow, you made him feel alright with something he’d spent 500 years hating about himself.
“what is yours?”
“technically, I don’t actually need to touch anyone, to heal them. I just have to be close enough to feel their energies.” he processed the words, heart skipping a beat a little at the meaning. you were the same as him. “just think about it all.”
you stood, taking the blanket from your shoulders and leaving it folded over the back of the chair you were leaving behind.
as you walked past, you paused, placing a hand on his shoulder, and shadows rose, wrapping like bracelets around your wrist as you squeezed lightly. “if you can’t tell them yet, that's okay. but if you ever need someone, you can come and find me. you’re hurting, az, and it’s my job to keep you all in one piece. if holding you when you need it is something you want, then you know where to find me.”
he couldn't speak, only nod, because he wasn’t sure he could get any words out around the lump in his throat.
you left, leaving his head somehow both spinning and utterly empty.
he waited, mulling over your words, whispering them to himself in the dark, until it became too cold to be comfortable, anymore.
almost everyone had retired, only cassian, mor and amren still awake, drinking quietly in front of the fire, but he didn’t feel like joining them.
no, he knew where he truly wanted to be.
the clock read over two hours since you’d left him, you’d surely be asleep by now, and azriel tried to pretend like it wasn’t disappointment filling him. stop being needy.
he was making his way to his own bedroom, taking the long route, when he passed your door. light was still spilling out from underneath it, golden glow from the crack between it and the floor, and azriel felt like his feet were rooted to the ground.
he could feel his heartbeat, right down to his fingers, and he clenched them into a fist to stop it.
he knocked. he knocked, he didn’t know what possessed him to do so, and maybe it wasn’t too late to just leave, but then there you were;
standing before him, pretty nightgown and a cardigan, hair a little ruffed from the loose way you’d fastened it back, and you didn’t look at all surprised to see him.
“az. would you like to come in?”
“more than anything, actually.” he breathed the words weakly, no longer having any embarrassment left to give, and he stepped over the threshold, letting you close the door.
your fire was lit, logs crackling quietly, but he couldn't smell them, instead, he could smell the candle you had, winter spices and berries, a sweet combination, but not as sweet as your smell. your sheets were tossed askew, clearly having been used, and a book lay on the bed, page marked.
“can I..?”
you raised a brow, but he didn’t know exactly how to word what he wanted, he wanted so much, he didn’t know where to start.
“do you want to lay with me while I read?”
“you mean, like we did that night?”
“if you want.”
he felt young again, no strain and stress on his shoulders, just bashful and a little shy, watching as you walked back to your bed, getting comfy once again. you patted the sheets, prompting him to move, and he did.
slowly, so slowly, azriel removed one boot at a time, placing them neatly in a pair at the end of your bed. then his belt, and his jacket, undoing every clasp and buckle slowly, until he was merely left in the comfortable trousers he’d worn to dinner, and his t-shirt.
one knee on the edge of the bed, and then the other, nervous but pushing on as azriel all but catapulted himself over a line he’d never considered crossing before. you lifted the blanket, welcoming him under, and he lay himself down slowly.
shuffling a little closer, he hesitated, close enough to feel every bit of warmth you gave off, but not touching a single part of you.
“I-.. I’m scared.”
“you don’t ever have to be scared with me, azriel. my job is to heal you, let me do that.” you spread your arms for him, and he gave in, the last shred of resistance obliterated.
he collapsed down by your side, cheek pressing into your shoulder, nose brushing that spot, that spot on your neck that smelt so damn sweet, every bit of you. his front was pressed up along your side, the arm curled around his shoulder, fingers threading into his hair, and he didn’t realise how much he needed it until the sigh he let out shook.
and then his shoulders did.
his chest.
he didn’t realise he was crying until three or four breaths in.
he felt frozen, body locked up as he sobbed, unable to help himself, your fingers weaving through his hair, giving him privacy even as he lay atop you, reading quietly and flicking each page every so often.
he cried until it felt like that well of emotion inside of him that he spent so long locking up no longer felt like it was about to overflow. it was manageable, truly kept in place, for once.
he dared to reach out, to hold you back like you held him, one arm over your waist, anchoring you down, making sure you were real, you weren’t going to leave.
and you let him.
every breath he took tasted sweet on his tongue, like roasted marshmallows, and the last thing azriel truly remembered before everything went black was the feeling of your other arm reaching over, hand placed atop his scarred one on your stomach, squeezing lightly.
when azriel woke, he panicked. this wasn’t his bed, his room, and there was someone here, someone holding him, someone-
it all came back. he shifted, pulling his face from where it still lay on your shoulder, one limp hand woven into his hair, falling away when he looked up to you, still asleep. your breaths were even. as he pulled back some more, you shifted, following his warmth the way he had subconsciously done to you. it sparked something in his chest, heart pinching a little.
there was no way he could move now.
he lay back down, rolling onto his side, and pulling you softly back toward him. you went, sleepily, curling up against him. dawn had broken, he was supposed to be training, cassian would be there already, and yet not a single part of him was willing to move, not even his shadows, which were spilling like lazy waterfalls over the bedsheets surrounding you both, hardly any movement at all.
it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. euphoria.
when you woke, it was with a little jump, like you were caught off-guard as much as he was.
you stretched somewhat, and azriel slackened the arm he’d been using to hold you close, but you didn’t pull away.
instead, you rolled over a little more onto your back, but shuffled close to him, using his arm like a pillow as you blinked to adjust to the morning sun.
“you stayed.”
“is that okay?”
“it was lovely. I haven’t slept that well in ages.”
“I haven’t slept that well ever.”
azriel had hoped that by the morning, he’d have found some control over his filter again when he was around you. it would seem that hope was ill-founded.
you gasped, mockingly placing a hand over your heart, a teasing look in your eyes as you looked at him. “I am truly honoured. like a dreamcatcher, obviously, I’m just the very best cuddl-”
he rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother to hide the smile on his face. he’d exposed one of his deepest secrets to you, everything else felt so small now in comparison. he cut you off by squeezing you tightly, rolling his arm up behind your head and clamping a hand over your mouth.
eventually, the two of you had gotten up, and he’d parted ways with you at the bedroom door to change his clothes before meeting everyone for breakfast.
but, like a bucket of cold water, the high he’d been floating on came crashing down when he walked into the dining room.
you were already sitting at the table, buttering a piece of toast as mor piled more onto your plate, insistent on getting three days worth of missed food into you as he sat down.
“where exactly were you this morning, brother? you missed training entirely. the girls teamed up on me, do you know how unfair that was? three against one, azriel!”
he froze a little, halfway into his seat, eyes flicking to the warlords, before he sat properly.
“I was sleeping.”
“sleeping?”
“yes. you know, that thing where you close your eyes, and go unconscious for extended periods of time in order to-”
“shut up, you know what I meant.” he remained staring, like he was trying to work azriel out, and you chuckled at them both.
“cass, your mother hen is showing.” the man scoffed, turning his scrutiny to you instead, and azriel loosed a breath with appreciation. he wasn’t ready yet, to tell everyone else what he’d managed to tell you. he may never be ready, but he already felt lighter having let just one person in.
something bumped his ankle, and dropping his gaze down to below the table, he caught your foot reaching out, slippered toes kicking lightly at his ankle. he shifted forward in his seat, tucking himself underneath properly, and your fluffy foot wrapped around his ankle lightly.
his head spun.
right here, in his everyday life, someone was touching azriel just for the sake of touching him.
he wasn’t ready to tell anyone else yet, and you were accommodating him.
he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, and one day, he was sure it would all come crashing down, but at least for now, he decided he would just enjoy it.
and so, it continued just like that.
you would touch az any chance you got, subtle, enough to go undetected, but enough that everything inside of azriel was practically singing with joy, all times of the day.
you’d place a hand on his shoulder when you stood beside him while he sat down, you’d link your foot with his when you sat at the table, you’d move him with your hands, this way or that way. you’d grab onto him, drag him around when he was late for his checkups because he got caught up in work. you’d poke him, and jab him when he teased you, and you’d pinch his cheeks until he swatted you away when you teased him back.
and most of all, you let him keep up his façade, rolling his eyes and huffing and pushing you away lightly, without ever pulling back from him.
more and more nights as it went on, he ended up in your bed at night, reading beside you quietly as his leg lay pressed up to yours, or your head slumped onto his shoulder when you got tired before he did.
it was months before azriel had the nerve to touch you in front of everyone without reason.
he was frustrated. he was angry and worn out, and he’d been gone for days when he finally saw his family again. five days of poor sleep, lonely days, and exhausting work trying to gather information.
he wanted to be held, he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into the lifestyle he’d become so used to already, in such a short amount of time.
you were there, sitting on one of the couches, spread out along it as everyone chatted, wine passed around. the volume hit zero as he hovered in the doorway for just a second.
“az, you’re back! how was it?”
“shit.”
“did you get it done?”
“of course.”
“good. join us. do you want a drink?”
he swallowed, throat dry, only nodding instead. but, that wasn’t really what he wanted. he was frozen in spot, and everyone was staring at him now. silence. but he was staring at you.
you sat up a little further, blissed-out look passing from your face, your back straightened. your eyes passed over him, once, twice, before meeting his gaze again.
“az, are you hurt?”
it felt like he had to force the word out, heart pounding in his ears as he considered every consequence of what he was about to do, every truth he was about to lay bare. he could pretend, he could say he was hurt, he knew you’d fake it for him. or, he could finally face the thing that terrified him.
he didn’t care, not anymore.
“no.”
at long last, his feet were moving again, and he strode across the room. kicking his boots off roughly and leaving them abandoned on the floor by the couch, next to wear your heels lay. you must have been out for drinks with mor and the others, everyone seeming a little dressed up.
he stripped off the leather jacket next, dropping it down onto the floor.
he sank, ass hitting the cushions, twisting, until he could lay down, the back of his head landing softly on your thighs.
he closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see everyone's faces, he just wanted to feel you.
rhys cleared his throat, breaking the tension that had lasted well over ten-seconds already.
“well, then. wine or whiskey, az?”
“whiskey, three fingers.”
“you got it.”
you threaded your fingers into his hair, and az let loose the rumble from his chest that he always had when you played with his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp.
you shifted underneath him, stretching one leg out along the couch behind him, shifting so his head lay on your stomach instead, resting between your legs comfily.
“so, it all went according to plan?” feyre was next, an overly high lilt to her voice, as rhys tinkered at the drinks cabinet in the corner.
“no, no, no, hang on. we’re all just going to avoid t- ow, nes!” a resounding thud cut him off, and azriel smirked as he heard cassian rubbing at what he assumed was the back of his head.
“everything went fine, just glad to be back. that’s all.”
“yeah, bet you are.” cassian grumbled, and your stomach shook under azriel’s head as you laughed.
rhys pat his shoulder, and he finally cracked his eyes back open, accepted the drink that was being offered. he took it, nodding a ‘thank you’, and his high lord’s eyes sparkled a little as he looked at the pair of you.
sitting up, he tried to fight the warmth coming to his cheeks, the one reaction he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried, and he covered it by taking a long swig of the burnt amber liquid inside.
“we were just talking about cassian’s most embarrassing encounter at rita’s.”
“what?! no, we were not!”
“no, no, I distinctly remember that's the conversation we were having.” rhysand backed you up, winking at the change in topic of conversation, and feyre nodded her support. “wasn’t it around the 300 years mark, just after the summer solstice..”
cassian’s face blanched, nesta perked up, as did elain and feyre, and both mor and rhys chuckled into their drinks.
his brother was now forced to retell this story for you four, and azriel felt a single claw tap three neat times at the inside of his mind. after a moment of hesitation, he let rhys in. let him see it. let him feel it, the way you made him feel.
his other brother only nodded, pulling back, smiling as he wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling her into his side to focus on the story.
for the first time ever, as azriel watched it and wished he had that too, he could act. he reached for you, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you closer to his chest. you went willingly, leaning your head on his shoulder as you giggled, thoroughly invested in cassian’s story.
he ran his nose over the crown of your head, smiling into your hair when you relaxed even further into him.
he’d never felt so settled.
that night, when you lay in bed, and he let himself into your room, the energy felt different.
he collapsed down beside you, flopping onto his stomach, pulling a pillow under his head and reaching an arm out across your waist as you chuckled.
“big step you took tonight.”
“I was sick of everyone else getting what they wanted, and never taking what I want.”
“I’m proud of you.”
his eyes snapped open, finding you instantly, and he stared at you for a second, eyes narrowing, and you never flinched away.
“what?”
“I'm proud of you. you faced a fear you’ve held for, what, almost five centuries? you should be proud of yourself, too.”
he only nodded, discarding the pillow and moving over to you, no longer feeling even an inkling of nerves as he collapsed down onto your pillow with you, noses mere centimetres apart, legs tangling together as he searched for your touch, as he always did nowadays.
you lifted a hand, placing it on his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone delicately. “you deserve good things, az. let yourself ask for them, let yourself take them.”
he was rendered completely breathless, heart racing so fast it felt like it stopped, and all he could do was smile.
in that moment, when you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling as you pulled back to blow out the final candle lighting the room, he felt his heart actually stop.
in that moment, azriel knew he was completely, totally and undeniably fucked.
after that night, a line had been crossed.
he crossed it, he made the first move, edging forward into something entirely unknown. azriel was used to suppressing his feelings, he never confronted them. and yet, not, he was not only acknowledging them, he was acting on them, using them.
he woke up before you the following morning, as he always did, content to lie in once again, ignoring his training with cassian once again. cass was surely going to get sick of this, but he didn’t care.
you, however, had different plans. you woke moments after him, jerking awake with a sudden jump, one hand coming up to your head.
you merely groaned, leaving his arms to sit up straight in bed, covers pooling around your lap and his.
“what’s wrong, angel?”
“I realised I’m late for- what?” a pink tinge touched your cheeks, and you turned, glancing at him over your shoulder. lips parted in a pretty way, eyes wide and vulnerable, and he lifted one arm, propping it behind his head and grinning like it hadn't been intentional.
“I said, ‘what’s wrong, angel’?”
the colour on your cheeks deepened, and you swallowed, several times, before licking over your lower lip and dropping your gaze.
“cassian. uh, well, training. uhm, training, with cassian. I’m late. for it. for training with cassian.”
his smile stretched as you stumbled over your words when his gaze fixed on you, trailing slowly over you in the morning light.
azriel really was grateful for the blocks you were removing from his mind, every wall you took down allowed him to realise something new, and the wall you’d removed last night allowed him to truly witness just how beautiful you were. and just how affected he was by it.
you were breathtaking, messy hair and wide eyes, shrouded by the golden light of the morning, and wreathed in twisting shadows as they wrapped around you, weaving through your hair, tickling your cheeks, teasing you.
he couldn't even begin to have imagined such a sight. ethereal.
“well, then, you’d better get going.” he showed no signs of moving, pulling your covers back up his body somewhat, and you gaped at him.
“you- you’re staying here? in my bed? you’re not- you’ve not got things to do?”
“I have nothing else to do, and I’m comfy. I’ll probably still be here when you get back.”
“I- uh, okay.”
“unless you’d rather me come to training? we could work on your takedowns.”
“wait, whats wrong with my takedowns? I took down nesta, and gwyn!"
“and until you can take down me and cass, I’m not secure in your safety.”
you huffed at him, but there was a playful smile on your face, telling him you weren’t really mad, and he reached out, placing a hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. your gaze tracked the movement.
“so, will you come?” he raised a brow at you, and you gasped a little at the innuendo he’d turned it into. “to training! will you come to training?”
“I suppose so.” he sat up, stretching his arms over his head, and his shadows told him of the way you bit your lower lip, gaze flicking over his chest and arms, before snapping away to stare pointedly at the door before he caught you. “I’ll go and put on my leathers. I’ll meet you there, angel.”
rolling from the bed and flexing out the numbness from his wings, he leaned back over, one hand on the mattress beside you, one on your hip, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and pulling back.
“see you soon.”
he was practically breathless by the time he reached the corridor, closing the door behind himself, shoes in hand.
on the way to his own bedroom, he crossed rhysand, who was passing to his office, coffee mug raised halfway to his lips, and his brows shot up. “alright, brother?”
“more than alright.”
“want to tell me about it?”
“not yet.”
“in that case, good luck.”
az grinned, continuing on his way through the house to prepare himself for training.
and just like that, azriel’s favourite new hobby began; teasing you. seeing just how much he could make you blush, how far he could go, whether you felt the same way.
lingering hands that slipped a little lower than needed when you trained, stares that he knew were more than suggestive, winks to accompany jokes that pressed well beyond that of friendship.
now that he had decided to be truthful with friends, he couldn't keep his hands to himself, he wasn’t sure how he ever did.
azriel liked to sit next to you, bury his face in your neck or hair, keep you tugged in close to his side. his arm lived permanently over the back of whatever seat you were on, and he always sat next to you, tucking hair away behind your ears, rubbing your back gently when you got sleepy, and holding you close to his chest every night when you slept.
he simply couldn't get enough.
after a few weeks, you’d stopped blushing and being as shocked. you’d caught onto his little game, he suspected, because you had begun making a habit of teasing him back.
you would kiss every cut and scrape and wound that he got once you’d fixed him up, lips teasing over the bandages as he pouted about it falsely.
you’d started to make him work for it, to always find someway to squirm or shuffle, to tease him with the possibility of leaving just so he’d have to grip a little tighter.
you’d taken to playing with his hands, running a the pad of your index over each finger and around his palm, featherlight touches that made him twitch.
and he loved it. every second of it, he loved it.
whenever he could get his hands on you, your hands on him, any part of his body touching you.
and when you weren’t there, his family had gotten more affectionate too.
cassian gave him a hug every single time he saw him, and it was almost the fifth hug before azriel stopped feeling the lump form in his throat.
rhys had taken to patting his back and shoulders every chance he got while feyre had taken to squeezing his hands and arms. mor would ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks. he loved all of that, too.
but he didn’t love any of it as much as he loved your touch.
and so, the morning when azriel finally lay the last piece of his soul bare to you had felt so utterly normal.
he’d been in your bed that night, his legs were still tangled with yours in the early morning golden sun, noses almost touching as you shared a pillow, and just whispered about everything. his hand was tucked under your shirt to run over your skin lightly as your fingers played with his hair.
it had been utterly perfect.
he’d told you about his mother, and the childhood he’d been locked away, and the healer who would be his only form of touch for years as she fixed him up after his brothers or step-father hurt him.
he let you into that final piece of himself, and you’d made it beautiful, just like the rest.
and so, when he'd leaned forwards, catching your lips with his own in a delicate meeting, it had felt so right. not heart-racing, not anxiety-inducing, not new and terrifying and bold. no, it had felt like coming home.
and that terrified him.
it terrified him more so when he felt his chest hum, felt his heart skip a beat and the snap that made his breath rush from him. he felt it, felt a bond form, felt the bond form. he was scared.
he could feel his heart speeding up, his thoughts spinning, every mind-stilling technique he’d mastered over the years seemed to go out the window and azriel felt himself gaping at you in shock.
you were frowning at him now, and he could vaguely feel the touch of your fingers slip down from his hair to sit on his cheek, thumb stroking over his face, and every swipe felt like fire over his skin as his nerves electrified.
“not exactly the reaction you want to a mate bond.”
you were smiling, joking, and the breath once again felt pressed from him. this time, every muscle locked up, he went so still he felt like even the blood in his veins had stopped moving.
“you knew?”
a whirlwind of emotions whipping through him; confusion, anger, sadness, frail grief even as he pulled away from your touch on his face.
he pushed himself to sit up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, and the sound of your sigh made irritation bubble within him as he processed it.
rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed, goosebumps lining his bare chest, all the way down to the boxers shorts he’s stripped down to sleep in.
then, there was a burst of concern in his chest, dizzying and disorientating for a moment before he realised it wasn’t his. it was yours, from the bond.
he snapped up walls around it, much the same feeling as the walls in his mind with rhysand, and just like that, soothing cold like his shadows took over where hot love and concern had once been.
he stood, trying not to take in the hurt on your face as he closed his end of the bond.
“az..”
he stumbled a little at the sound of his name on your tongue, feeling so much, positive and negative; love and betrayal, hurt and anger, comfort and sadness. it was a maddening concoction.
“you knew! you knew and you didn’t tell me! how could you, how could you do that to me?”
he reached for his leathers, tugging the pants up his legs and fastening them right over his shorts, grabbing for his t-shirt next.
you sat up now, crawling across the bed and tangled in the sheets before reaching a hand out to him.
“azriel.”
he flinched away from your touch, and your outstretched hand faltering before falling to rest on your thigh instead as you sat back on your heels.
“no, no, no. I need to think, don’t touch me right now. I just.. I need some space.”
“you need to think.. about us? about the bond?”
“I have some things to think about!” he was almost ashamed of the outburst as he tugged on his shirt, not even fastening it behind his back, and grabbing his boots and jacket in hand.
“right… okay, sure.” your voice cracked, and azriel was sure that would have killed him to hear had he not been swirling with so much anger already.
and then he was leaving, slamming your door behind himself and making the journey back to his room barefoot. he barely processed the walk, he barely remembered seeing lucien in the corridor or seeing feyre in the foyer.
the first time his head was clear once again was hours later, when he found himself in front of a punching bag.
he’d done as he always had, and resorted to mindlessly pounding out his emotions whenever it was too much. there were weapons scattered around himself, practice swords near the wood pillars and spare wrapping for his knuckles on the bench, and he reached a hand out to stop the bag from swinging.
there were mixed smells in the air, mostly his own sweat, that of the valkyries too. they must have come to training, and he hadn't even noticed. he’d been so caught up, so totally lost in his shadows and his feelings that he’d managed to block out the world entirely.
he willed them back, away from the frenzy around him and into a somewhat calm semblance behind his body, a writhing mass of cool, collected terror.
it was only once they were drawn back that he noticed his brother, arms crossed, leaning on the doorway with his brows raised.
“want to spar about it?”
his lips twitched up at the edges, and he glanced the ring, before nodding.
cassian had always known just what he needed when he was in a mood like this.
then again, he’d never quite had a mood like this before. never the hurt of finding his mate, finding out his mate already knew and had deceived him, and then the betrayal to follow, all within minutes. no, this was brand new.
he didn’t want to talk, not as he watched cassian powder and wrap his hands, not as he watched his brother take stance, and not as they began to throw and dodge punches.
no, it wasn’t until azriel was dripping in sweat and panting so hard his lungs hurt that the therapeutic part of it finally kicked in, and his shoulders felt light enough to let the words sitting on his tongue free.
“she’s my mate.”
“yeah.” cassian didn’t even hesitate, and the shock of realising that cassian knew too was so stark he caught a punch across his jaw.
he swore, spitting out to the side and cutting a glare at his brother. he’d already landed a good few punches of his own, but he’d get him back for that one.
“you knew as well?”
“yeah.”
azriel landed a hard blow to his brother’s ribs, prompting more than just that one word out of him with a matching glower.
instead, cassian slowed the movements of his feet until they were standing still, panting and aching and loose of physical tension at last. wordlessly, he had stopped the fight, enough that they were actually going to talk about this, it seemed.
“she told me after that one mission, where you almost died and snapped at her real bad. when she woke up after her burnout, we talked about it. I wanted to apologise to her. she told me, that the bond had snapped for her during that night when she was caring for you.”
azriel remembered that, or, the morning after, at least. how it had felt to wake up to you, to wake up to touch and feeling loved, and how he’d reacted much the same that morning as he had this morning.
he’d freaked out, and snapped, and yelled a little bit. he cringed slightly at the comparison.
his brother was smiling, unwrapping his hands. “so, it snapped for you too, then! when?”
“this morning, when we..”
azriel cleared his throat as heat rose to his cheeks, and cassian wiggled his brows with a smirk. “when we..?”
“oh, gods, cass. when we kissed, that's it.”
then, cassian’s smile dimmed, and his gaze flicked around the room at the chaos left in azriel’s wake.
“so, if it snapped this morning, what the hell are you doing beating out your frustrations up here? there’s much more enjoyable ways to pass the energy surge, you know.”
he winked, and azriel merely rolled his eyes, but he had no anger left to spare at the moment.
“I… was overwhelmed. I’ve waited so long, cassian, it took me by surprise. I freaked out a little bit, I was so shocked.”
“and?”
sometimes it scared him just how well his brother could read him. he sighed, trying to clear his thoughts enough to recall the morning the way it had happened, without the fog in his mind.
“and then she told me that she knew. she knew all this time, knowing how much I cared for her, how much I wanted her, how much I wanted a mate, and she kept it from me.”
“because you’re just known for your calm, logical reactions in moments of emotional stress. obviously.”
that earned cassian a scowl weighed with threat and disdain.
“she said she knew, I freaked out and said I needed some space to think, because how could she do that to me? I needed to leave and think some things through.”
“well, as long as you didn’t say it quite like that, but..” cassian shrugged, grabbing his water bottle and taking a hearty gulp before tossing it to azriel.
he was parched, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink when cassian had dropped a statement like that on him.
“that’s exactly how I said it. verbatim. what do you mean?”
“are you serious, azriel?”
rarely did cassian ever take that tone with him, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had, and azriel’s eyes widened a little in shock.
“let me just be sure I’m understanding this correctly. the woman who is head-over-heels for you, constantly gives you her all, openly adores you for all to see, you didn’t even suspect that she was your mate?”
“I mean, I hoped, but I tried not to think too hard so I wouldn't be disappointed-”
his excuse was cut off, ignored, as cassian held his hand up to him.
“then, when the bond finally snaps for you, because you finally let that last bit of your walls down to actually let yourself be happy, that’s what you say?”
“harsh, cass.”
“you told that sweet, kind woman, who knew and was waiting for you to figure it out on your own, because you’re so stubborn and hard-headed that you won’t just let yourself be happy, that you needed to think? you didn’t stop to think that for all this time she’s been protecting that bond alone, the bond you didn’t pick up, loving you with her whole heart and soul while getting nothing back, you didn’t think about her? what she’s been going through? that about cover it?”
azriel had never quite been lectured like this by cassian before. he could only nod.
“you watched me get my heart broken over and over again by nesta until she realised. and you.. you.. what is there to think about? what, you don’t want her? what, that maybe she’s great for keeping your bed warm but not as a mate?”
something awful, horrible, cold and heavy and sinking settled into his stomach.
his chest felt hollow, that place where a bond had been for only seconds before he’d silenced it felt like a missing limb now.
the last of the angry mist filling him finally dissipated.
if cassian thought those things, then maybe you-..
“oh, gods..”
“you’re such a dumbass.” cassian scoffed, frowning at him and placing his hands on his hips.
“okay, seriously, cassian. you are reaming my ass today, what the hell?���
“you deserve it!”
he couldn't argue that, all he could do was grumble about it.
he dropped those walls back down, reaching out for the bond and tugging. no reply, like a brick wall. he tried again, this time you had shut him out, and he hated how empty that made him feel. how much he must’ve hurt you by doing that.
“do you think I should-”
“I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE STILL DOING HERE.”
“OKAY, OKAY.”
it was enough encouragement, enough to spur him from where he was frozen, not even bothering to unwrap his hands as he took off in a jog.
once again, he was lost to everyone except his own thoughts.
he missed rhysand as he passed his office and called out a greeting, and he missed elain as he flew in and out of the kitchen, he missed nesta who cursed at him for almost running straight into her.
he searched every room for you, coming up empty everywhere but your bedroom.
he was banging on your door, one hand curled into a fist as he shouted your name, refusing to just barge in when he had so clearly been shut out and cut off, but that resolve was wearing thin the longer you didn’t answer him.
“angel, please, I just want to talk, stop shutting me out, c’mon.”
his shoulders were slumping, he hoped they weren’t shaking, as your silent treatment settled a heavy sense of foreboding within him.
“hey, az. what are you doing?” elain’s eyes were narrowed on him, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she took him in.
“hey, elain. I can’t find (y/n), she doesn’t want to talk to me.. I fucked up this morning and I know that and I’m sorry!” his voice rose toward the end of his sentence turning back to face the wood of your door and hoping you’d hear it.”
“az, she’s not in there.”
“you know where she is?” he didn’t even have enough to feel embarrassed as his head whipped to her.
“she went back to autumn a couple of hours ago.” elain only shrugged, because she didn’t have a crushing sense of defeat and loss and agony in her chest as she spoke those words. not like he did upon hearing them.
“she.. I mean, she.. what? why? when?”
elain only shrugged once more.
“I don’t know. I was out doing some early morning gardening before the heat of the day kicked in, and lucien came out in such a panic all of a sudden and told me he had to go back to autumn immediately, and was taking (y/n) with him. he wouldn’t tell me much more, just that he’d be out of touch for a few days. I barely even got a chance to say goodbye to him before they were winnowing out, bags in hand.”
she sighed wistfully, clearly missing her mate dearly, and boy did azriel know how that now felt.
he felt hot, all over, and somehow cold at the same time. his body was aching, in all new ways from the vigorous training, his eyes stung so much it hurt to keep them open and will back the oncoming tears.
“oh, az, don’t worry. they’ll be back soon, I just know it. why don’t we get you some tea, huh? I just brewed a fresh pot of berries and lemon.”
she reached up, one hand on his shoulder and one on his arm to lead him away. it was comforting, the warmth of her touch and the squeeze she gave, the smile to accompany it. but it wasn’t enough, not even close.
so he sat, with a cup of tea clenched between his hands, warming him slowly from the porcelain as elain rolled out bread dough on the counter behind him.
it was as he took the final sip, staring into the bottom of the blue hand-made mug of feyre’s that elain finally spoke up. the question had been lingering in the air for almost twenty minutes, and he had been delaying it as long as possible.
“do you want to talk about it?”
“not really.”
“talk about it.”
“okay.”
he’d long since given up on arguing with elain, whether it was her seer abilities, eavesdropping, or an uncanny ability to get information out of people, she’d gotten very good at knowing every single piece of gossip, and it was better to tell her himself than let her puzzle it out or hear it from cassian.
“in a nutshell, (y/n) is my mate, and I fucked it all up.”
“yes, well, I’d managed to piece that much together,” she smirked at him, wiping floury hands on her apron and pouring him a new mug of steaming tea, a spoonful of honey dunking into it to follow before she returned to her bread. “why don’t you tell me the rest?”
“she knew. cassian knew. you knew. everyone but me knew, apparently. the mailman and the courtiers from spring probably know. it snapped for me this morning, and I freaked out a little bit.” he pinched his fingers together, and then winced, expanding them some more “more than a little bit. I told her I needed to think about us, after basically accusing her of lying to me and implying she was awful for doing that, and then I.. stormed out.”
elain blew out a slow breath, slicing the dough into small cubes before shaping them up in circles. “well, it’s not great, I won’t lie. but, I don’t think she’d just run away from you. she’ll come back, she loves you, azriel, that means loving all the flaws that come with you, like brash decisions and saying the wrong thing in the heat of the moment and storming out.”
he let out an empty laugh at her teasing. somewhere deep down, he could see the logic in it all, but that didn’t stop it from hurting right now.
“oh, az..” she brushed her hands down again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and propping her chin atop his head, squeezing him lightly. he raised a hand, patting her elbow where it sat on his shoulder and sighing. “you two are going to be just fine, I’m sure of it.”
“are you saying that as my friend or as a seer?”
her silence was answer enough for him and he groaned, head flopping down to sit on his forearms on the table as she only chuckled.
that was how feyre and rhys found him an hour later when they came down for sandwiches made of fresh bread, and he was forced to say it all over again.
then that evening, mor joined everyone for dinner and rhys forced him to reiterate it all over once more as he smirked.
the following morning, nesta gave him a look as she passed him in the corridor, and he knew that cassian had told her, too.
the only reprieve was amren, who simply did not care, and told everyone as much when sensing the foul mood hanging over him.
for three days he moped, every evening making him feel worse and worse.
he was lonely, his bed was cold, his chest was colder, and he felt like his heart wasn’t even beating.
he’d always been confused before when hearing the rumours, the stories of people with rejected or lost mates, and yet now, he understood.
he didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to leave his bed, he wanted to lay, and fester alone, and wait.
azriel had been just fine before, just fine when nobody touched him, nobody told him what he could and couldn't have, when he was moping and broody and he’d never known any different. he was just fine imagining what his life could have been and never having it.
but then he’d had it. he’d had love and affection and touch, he’d had someone make him their priority, he’d had someone to cheer him up on bad days and to make him laugh when he wanted to frown. he’d had someone. and now, he was back to having no one.
it was dinner on the fourth night, as he was sipping on his wine, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood.
his shadows stilled for a split second, swirling in slow motion before becoming frantic.
the front door was opened a moment later. the room around him went silent, all eyes moving to the foyer.
his spine straightened almost painfully as his hands clenched, trying to resist the urge to fly up from his seat and toward you.
a small smile formed on your face as you glanced around upon making it to the kitchen, and as rhysand stood, his legs twitched, wanting to copy. wanting to follow, to make his way to you, to-
“I’m sorry we just disappeared.” lucien sighed, wiping a hand over his face. he looked exhausted, like he’d spent days on end without sleep, he’d rarely seen the male so stressed. you looked worse.
concern and panic flared up within him as he took in the circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders like even standing up was exhausting.
“I couldn't say anything until, well, until we knew what had actually happened. no easy way to say it, so, here it is. my father is dead.”
that shocked him, enough that he managed to tear his gaze from you for a second to stare at lucien, jaw dropping like almost everyone else.
elain’s chair screeched back, she was on her feet a moment later, flying towards her mate and into his arms as she mumbled soothing apologies mixed with vague curses about the man, and lucien only chuckled.
“what happened?” mor burst, frowning in an attempt to seem apologetic, he was sure most of the looks around the table were false sympathy. he wasn’t sure that even lucien was all that upset by it.
“officially? sickness. unofficially? assassination.”
gasps sounded around the table, and he didn’t care to take in any of it, frowning when feyre stood from her seat and made her way to you, squeezing your hands in her own, and azriel hated it, because he wanted to be the one holding you.
before he could move, rhys was tapping at his shields, a sharp talon scratching down those mental walls he’d put up.
“lucien, we should talk about it. my office, if you’re willing?”
the redhead only nodded, pressing a kiss to his mate’s head before disentangling himself.
he glanced to his brother, mental conversation taking place, and he knew it was right, no matter how much he hated it. if beron had been assassinated, they needed to talk, and that involved him.
the sympathetic look on rhys’ face did nothing to soothe him, and it was like dragging his body through wet cement as he followed lucien, rhys and cassian out of the dining room and to his office.
for three torturous hours he tried to focus and give his best, and yet you were all he could think about.
you were so close, you were back within the same four walls as he was, you were here, he could talk to you, get to you. he needed to.
as soon as he was free to go, he was outside of your bedroom door, knuckles tapping against the wood until he heard the faint ‘come in’ from the other side.
you were sitting in your bed, only the lamp beside you on.
“azriel, hey. I’ve been waiting for you.”
he couldn't feel any bone in his body as he all but sagged with relief. “you have?”
you only nodded as he took a few steps closer. “we should probably talk.”
well, there goes that relief.
his throat was burning, he felt so exposed and vulnerable and lost.
he was so caught up that he’d never noticed the return of that bond, the reopening of your end, until a wave of reassurance washed down it toward him.
there were tears in his eyes and his laugh was croaky as he rubbed his chest.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you left. I thought you were gone for good, I was so scared you weren’t coming back to me I thought I drove you away, and you have no idea how much that hurt, I couldn't even think. it- it was like my heart was missing from my chest, I love you so much, I can’t be apart from you, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean to make you leave, I didn’t mean to make you sad. not that morning, or the morning after that night you saved my life. I’ll be better, okay? I won’t be so grumpy and I won’t jump to conclusions, and I’ll just tr-”
“oh, oh, az-” he could sense how overwhelmed you were, he was only making it worse, and he watched you kick at the sheets and crawl toward the edge of the bed. “azriel, baby, c’mere.”
you held your hands held out to him, just like they had days ago, and he didn’t make the same mistakes as last time.
he stumbled forward, until your hands could take his face softly, thumbs swiping away the tears that were flowing steadily over his cheeks.
one of his hands closed over your own, the other gripping the opposite wrist.
“I’m so sorry, angel.”
“az, gods, honey, I’d never leave you. I’m sorry, that I had to close the bond, but it was a court-wide lockdown, I was liable for treason if I didn’t. all communication had to be cut off, even lucien to elain.”
he could only nod, he’d known that much, because elain had started to grow just as sad as he’d been as of yesterday morning.
“I’m not going anywhere, ever, okay? one little hiccup isn’t going to ruin what we have. you take as much time as you need to process it, gods know I spent the whole night I was mopping your forehead and checking your pulse was still there processing it.”
you pulled him forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and azriel was sure no drug or alcohol or deep breath as he broke the surface of the water had ever felt like this.
“I thought there was no way this moody bat who wants nothing to do with me is my mate.”
he laughed, hands finding your hips, your cheek resting on his temple as you hugged him close. “I’m sorry I was so rude the morning after.”
“that’s okay, I already forgave you for that a while ago. can you forgive me for not telling you for so long?”
“I already forgave you days ago. I’ve been in agony missing you ever since.”
you pulled away, despite his protests, kissing each of his damp cheeks gently.
“do you want to get ready for bed and join me? I’ve almost finished my chapter.”
“you sure you still want me?”
“I’m never going to stop wanting you, azriel. you’re mine, and I’m yours. I love you.”
“I love you.”
azriel was quick to strip down, all the way to his boxers, leaving his leathers over the back of the chair and his boots by the door.
you were still kneeling and looking at him fondly, and the air around him seemed to warm with affection, every nerve in his body relaxing.
“you ready for bed?”
“..yes.”
“you want some really clingy cuddles tonight?”
“I don’t think I could be close enough to you tonight if we actually became one person.”
he wasn't sure where such a confession came from, but you laughed at him, big smile and eyes closing and he didn’t care. if bearing his soul to you meant relaxed laughing and pretty smiles and feeling like this, he’d tell you every soppy, silly thought he’d ever had.
while your eyes were closed, he moved, all but tackling you onto the bed and burying his face into your neck.
it only made you laugh more, hands gripping at his shoulders, squirming as his hands ran up and down your sides to tickle, pinned underneath him and breathless as you giggled.
“az! what about the covers, my book, the lights!”
“don’t care.” he pressed a kiss to the crook between your neck and shoulder, finally relenting his tickling to simply lay on you instead.
love and playful joy and the feeling of fullness flushed down the bond, filling his chest as you caught your breath under him.
you shifted again.
“az, honey, please-”
“I love it when you call me that.” he groaned, nudging his nose against your jaw, cheeks aching from the smile on his lips. you only tugged at a handful of the covers under your bodies.
“I'm gonna’ freeze in the night, I’m not made of the same stuff you are.”
“that’s what happens when you wear these little nightgowns to bed.”
pinching some of the silk slip between his fingers, he jerked it lightly, and you smacked his hand away.
“they’re comfy! and besides, do you know how hot it gets in bed with you?” he pushed himself up, unable to stop the cassian-like smirk on his face as a very cassian-like joke passed through his mind. he needed to stop spending so much time with his brother. “oh, cut it out. you are like a furnace, but above the covers, I’m all exposed, my legs will get cold.”
“no winning with you, huh?”
“you’re gonna’ have to get used to losing arguments if you’re gonna’ be with me, honey.”
he sighed dramatically, despite the skip of his heart which he knew you felt too, and he lifted himself up, pulling back the covers so you could get beneath, and settling himself in beside you.
with the book gone and the lights out, azriel shuffled himself closer, resting one scarred palm on your cheek in the dark. “now can we cuddle?”
“yes, shadowsinger, illyrian warrior, terrifying-” he scoffed, leaning in to cut you off with a kiss, one which was cut short by your giggling.
“wasn’t it you that told me none of those things define me, and they don’t stop me being worthy of love?”
“yes, my love, my honey, my mate-”
“much better.”
“we can cuddle now.”
he tugged you closer, close enough that his forehead touched yours, cheeks on the same pillow, and he’d never felt happier than this moment, bond singing between your bodies.
after a moment, you moved, head tucking under his chin, legs tangling, and he circled his arms right around you, one wing following.
azriel felt like he was practically melting into you, as the slow traces of your fingers up and down his arm drained away every bit of stress from his body.
“everything is different with you, az. when you hold me, I feel so safe. I feel protected, like nothing can go wrong in the world.”
his heart swelled and he dipped enough to kiss your hairline in response, your nose following, before his lips were meeting with your own.
it was fragile, and soft, and perfect. everything he’d ever wanted.
it was the kind of kiss that promised every day, not the passion of one night or the teasing of something more. this kiss spoke to every part of him, it filled his heart, made him proud and happy and contented, and he loved it.
“when you hold me, I feel like I can finally be vulnerable. like someone sees every single part of me, and loves me. I don’t feel scared to show you every part of my soul. I am completely and wholly yours.”
#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel/reader#azriel x reader#azriel/you#azriel x you#acotar x you#acotar x reader#acotar/you#acotar/reader#a court of thorns and roses
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Hello :3 I have an idea for a request.
Mk1 boys (Bi-Han, Kuai liang,tomas, liu kang, kung lao, Raiden, johnny, kenshi, syzoth and shang tsung) with wife pregnant reader (Any month, depending on what you want) wake up in the middle of the night craving something and scared to wake them up Because they are already tired and streets from their work and she start sobbing silently and the boys will wake up , what their reaction will be what will they do?
And what will they do when the reader says something like 'I'm fat I look big'
I know it's random and stupid But I read it from a manhwa and I really liked the idea
Soooo please 🥺🥺🥺
author note: the please with teary eyes got me. Also pregnancy cravings are "only" in the first three months, so reader is in that stage.
Bi-Han:
-He is a light sleeper so he heard your first sigh clearly.
-Bi-Han already doesn’t sleep much so go straight to the point or he’ll just go back to sleep (probably in another room).
-You do, and now he is in the kitchen in the middle of the night preparing milk and cereals.
-“Here you go.” He sits in front of you, eating his own bowl.
“Mh, Bi-han?”
“Could you put ice cubes in my milk?”
-He looks at you like you just said some crazy stuff, but he knows better and just does as you asked him. A happy smile now on your face pulling the corner of his lips upward.
-But then, while you are both enjoying your bowls in silence Bi-Han hears you sniffing again, fat tears rolling down your face.
“Now you’ll leave me because I’m fat and have terrible taste in food.”
-His spoon hangs in the air, mouth still open, hair resembling a bird nest. Bi-Han faces drip with annoyance.
-Then he pushes your spoon in your mouth, icy milk and cereals hitting your tastebuds.
“If you have to open your mouth do it to eat and not to say dumb shit. Now go back to eat, I’d never thought icy milk could taste this good…” He replies, pinching your cheek after you gulped down.
Kuai Liang:
-When he comes home and hears you cry, Liang runs to you worried for both you and the baby.
-“What happened fireball?”
“You were out working and-“
“And??”
“And I’m here crying like a whale because I want some marinated and grilled squid.” You let out in a single breath, before going back to sighing and crying.
-The breath of relief Liang let out moved continents.
-Liang isn’t a great cook, but he knows his way around the grill, so his chefs are lucky that Liang didn’t have to wake them up in the middle of the night.
-He looks at you eating with joy, his face laying on his fist, raising the apple of his cheek up.
-But then you get teary…what is happening?
-“You’ll leave me, right?” You say after you let out a sob.
“No, why?”
“Look at me eating like a pig! I’ll get fat and we won’t have sex anymore!” Tears roll down your face and Liang really doesn’t know what to say.
-“Even if you get fat I’m sure you’d be pretty cute.”
“Okay, then-“ You stand on your feet, chopsticks thrown at the table while Liang looks at you with the widest eyes ever. “Fuck me now!”
-…Liang? Hello? Are you still there?
-He can’t really understand what is going on, but Liang decides not to rack his brain over it, his warm hands already on your hips.
Tomas Vrbada:
-He was already awake when you started crying, so he asks immediately what’s wrong.
-“I don’t want to bother you, you always work so hard but-“
“?”
“I want smoked salmon.”
-Ahhh Tomas' first experience with his partner’s cravings.
-He searches in all the fridges of Shirai Ryu but can’t find anything. Tomas is ready to catch a salmon with his teeth like a bear and smoke it himself to make you happy.
-And that’s exactly what Tomas does.
-The sight of him shirtless, mauling a salmon with the moonlight making the water droplets on his chest and back shine…was a sight that sadly nobody witnessed.
-“Tommy this tastes so good, it is so juicy and…fatty.”
Tomas feels the storm coming.
-“You’ll want me even when I’ll become as fat as a salmon?”
Tomas nods and gulps, knowing full well of the doom incoming.
-“Why are you lying?! Men are all the same!”
-If something, seeing his partner belly round with your offspring can just make Tomas hot under the collar. But it’s not like you’ll listen to him.
-He just waits head in hands for this outburst to calm itself, tiredness knocking you out. Tomas hopes sooner rather than later.
Liu Kang:
-You know what is the best part of defending the hourglass? Looking into it to anticipate his partner’s cravings!
-So you’ll never have to cry because Liu Kang is always ready to give you the craziest food ever.
-“Ohh Liu, you really are the best. Always ready to give me the food I crave…” Bad silence, Liu Kang starts to have goosebumps. “I know the game you are playing, bastard!” You push Liu Kang away from your arms, running away from him.
“What are you talking about, dear one?”
“You want to make me fat so you’ll have me all for yourself! You egoist! You selfish bastard!”
-Yeah, Liu Kang is a bit selfish. Yes, he wants you all for himself kilos more or kilos less. But he has to admit that it wasn’t his plan.
-“You are mistaken, dear.”
“Mh??”
“I always want you all for myself.”
“Ah! Even now!?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then take this-“ You finally run back into his arms, lips smashed against his ones. You try to pull him off, but now there is no way that Liu Kang will let you go.
- It’s time to show you how hot he finds you.
Kung Lao:
-Good luck with him because Lao is a heavy sleeper.
-He’ll notice that there is a problem the next morning when you see your puffy and red eyes.
“I didn’t want to bother you, but I had insane cravings last night.”
“Next time wake me up. I don’t mind.” He says hands on your shoulder before going to work.
-So, when the next night you try to wake him up, the need for cabbage stew is making you insane.
-Keyword: try.
-World could end and Lao would still be snoring.
-Next time is better to have cravings during the day because at night you’re on your own.
-Meanwhile, during the day Lao becomes more or less your butler…at least.
Raiden:
-“Hey sweety, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” Raiden turns around to look at you, index finger stroking your wet cheek.
“You must be so tired.”
“Yeah, a little. But I want to listen to you. What’s wrong?”
“I want to eat dango.”
“At this hour?”
“Please, Raiden.”
-He chuckles but lifts himself from the bed. But now Raiden thinks “Where I can find dango at this hour??”
-Raiden has a guardian angel; Madame Bo, with her insomnia problem for once being useful.
-And the lady will be more than happy helping Raiden's pregnant partner to fulfill one of their cravings.
-Not for free, tho…
-You won’t cry about weight with him. Even if your mind is hazed by hormones it still works well enough to know that he’ll always love you.
Johnny Cage:
-Another heavy sleeper, but if you push him around enough he’ll wake up.
-“Ehi babe, what’s wrong.”
“Johnny-“ He hears you sigh and finally wakes up, worried that you may be hurt.
“I’m in the mood for cream and strawberries, but at first I didn’t want to wake you-“
“Shhh babe-“ He presses his index finger on your lips “I’m here to help you.”
-He comes back soon, a cup filled to the brim that makes your eyes shine with joy.
-“Oh look, you have some cream here.”
His thumb brushes the corner of your lips. Then Johnny wanted to lick it, already smiling at his next action.
-But you move faster, your lips circling his thumb and licking it clean.
-Johnny looks at you, doe eyes looking back, your lips on his thumb, your nice and soft body next to him…
-The cup of strawberries will be soon forgotten.
Kenshi Takahashi:
-He comes back home from a mission and hears you crying. Kenshi is terrorized.
-Kenshi already has anxiety about leaving his partner alone at home, pregnant. Hearing you cry made him crumble.
“Are you fine!?”
“Oh, Kenshi!”
You run to him and hug his middle, he keeps you tight in his arms.
-“Please tell me, what happened!?”
“I’m sorry I don’t want to worry you. It’s nothing serious.”
Kenshi still isn’t calm.
“I just have a crazy craving for takoyaki with honey.”
Okay, his breath is calming down.
-He just returned home, every muscle screaming in pain, but for his partner, he’d do that and much more.
-Thankfully you always liked takoyaki so Kenshi had some ingredients at home, the others got bought in a nearby combini.
“Kenshi you are a real life saver.”
“It’s just my job.” He replies kissing the crown of your head, hands sliding down to massage your tummy.
“But next time just tell me you had a craving, I lost some years of my life.”
-Are those sniffs he is hearing? Oh no…
“I-I’m so sorry Kenshi-“
-He’ll never get used to mood swings.
Syzoth:
-His wife didn’t suffer from cravings, but Syzoth is ready for anything.
-Syzoth more or less always knows when your hormones are gonna hit, so he tries to put limit the incoming “damage”.
-The real problem is that Syzoth doesn’t know anything about human food! You are on your own. Ask your friends, you will have better luck.
-“You search for someone else when I’ll get fat, I know it!”
“You just want to knock me up!”
Syzoth knows your mind isn’t working well, hormones going crazy.
-But he also knows how to calm you down!
“I’d love you even if you became a worm, firefly.”
“The idea of you carrying our baby always fills me with joy.”
-Syzoth will also become more touchy-feely, his hands like to wander…
-Unless you get a crazy mood swing you’ll never doubt his love for you.
Shang Tsung:
-The diva won’t stop being a diva even if now you are pregnant and need his help.
-“Shang Tsung, please can you bring me orange juice.” You sob out, finally giving in into your cravings.
“I also want to conquer the world, but nobody will do it for me.” He replies back, eyes still closed.
-He gives in at the nth sigh. Shang Tsung may not be so unaffected by you.
-He returns soon, a glass filled with orange juice. But he doesn’t sit next to you.
“Anything else before I go back to sleep? You know I don’t like my sleep time being interrupted.”
“No Shang Tung, thank you.”
-He sighs and lies down, you soon follow him.
-“You don’t love me anymore, right?”
A heavy breath leaves his nose.
Damn you.
-“Are you trying to make me laugh? We both know who is the good liar here.”
“That’s why you may not love me. You lied the entire time!”
-Shang Tsung isn’t ready for this conversation.
-His lips end on yours, tongue intruding into your mouth, a moan escapes your throat.
-You may not trust his words, but Shang Tsung hopes he’ll fuck you good enough that his emotions will be understandable through your thick skull.
Bonus:
Tell us about the manwha!
#mk x reader#mk1 x reader#mortal kombat x reader#mk headcanons#mk1 headcanons#mortal kombat headcanons#johnny cage#johnny x reader#kenshi takahashi#kenshi x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#mk1 raiden#raiden x reader#kung lao#kung lao x reader#bi han#bi han x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#tomas vrbada#mk1 smoke#tomas x reader#smoke x reader#mk1 reptile#syzoth#syzoth x reader#mk1 shang tsung#shang tsung x reader
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