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defectivevillain · 2 months

Text

through gritted teeth

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

The man says he’s your husband. He’s polite, charming, intelligent. He seems a little pretentious, but he appears to know you rather well and the thinly-veiled devotion in his eyes dispels most of your remaining doubts. It certainly helps that the man is rather well-dressed—and attractive, a traitorous voice in the back of your mind whispers. Unfortunately, you have no idea who he is.

word count: 3.8k | ao3 version

You wake up to fluorescent lighting burning into your eyes, pulling tears down your cheeks as you blink stars from your vision. Your entire body aches with exhaustion and you can feel a headache brewing already. Groaning, you try to push yourself up to a sitting position. There’s an IV attached to your arm and, upon closer inspection, you seem to be in some sort of hospital room. White walls line the space, and there’s nothing much of note in your immediate vicinity. You blink a few more times past your absurdly dry eyes and continue inspecting the room, until your eyes catch on the chair to the right side of your bed.

There’s a man sitting at your bedside with his eyes closed. He stirs within a few moments, as if he can sense you staring at him. Relief is written all over his face as he leans forward and clasps your hand with a small smile on his face. You can’t stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the contact and he notices, removing his hand at once.

“Do you remember who I am?” He asks. His words are carefully constructed, strung together with eloquence and remnants of what sounds like an accent from a European country. You blink at him once, twice. It takes a moment for you to process the question, and another to contemplate the answer. The man doesn’t look familiar. Indeed, he looks like a stranger.

When you tell him as much, a sad smile works its way onto his face. It seems he expected your answer. He begins to explain the circumstances surrounding your visit here, which you are immensely grateful for. You know next to nothing as you sit in this hospital bed, and, try as you might, you can’t remember anything save for your name.

Apparently, you’ve suffered a serious head injury that left you with a spontaneous case of amnesia. Fortunately, your memories will likely return to you in due time. Somehow, these two revelations aren’t the most shocking of statements from the stranger. What the man reveals next shakes you to your core: he’s your husband.

Upon closer examination, you find that the man is charming, polite… He’s rather attractive, too, with fine-combed hair and sparkling brown eyes with flecks of amber. His face looks as if it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself—sweeping lines, sharp edges, soft curves. The man is intelligent and [perhaps as a result] a little pretentious. From his attire, you can only assume that he makes a lot of money and has rather particular tastes. You could see someone like this going to the opera regularly.

But there’s something else about this man—something lurking beneath the surface. You can’t puzzle out what it is. There’s something sinister concealed in those reddish-brown eyes, an unspoken violence in the man’s careful poise. And you think you catch him intently scrutinizing you—as if you’re under a microscope.

You soon learn that the man’s name is Hannibal Lecter. He’s a psychiatrist who used to be a surgeon. He’s in his 40s. He has refined tastes—and even goes to the opera on occasion, yes. He is fascinating, intriguing beyond measure. He discusses heavily philosophical topics with ease. He is slippery, only giving you the information he wants to give you. He has a very controlled image. The dishes he cooks you are extravagant and lavish, with ingredients you’ve never even heard of. (The meat in them is always some sort of organ, and it turns your stomach every time.)

In the wake of your injury, you’re unsure of almost everything. But you know one thing for certain: Hannibal is not your husband. And you’re convinced that he’s dangerous. You don’t trust him—can’t trust his carefully crafted words, his home-cooked meals, his polite smiles. It’s all a farce.

It would be all too easy to ask your next visitor about this well-dressed, enigmatic man. Unfortunately, you don’t get any other visitors. In fact, your next visitor is Hannibal again… And again. And again. It gets to the point where your nurse gives up on having him sign in when he visits. At first, she had been rather strict in enforcing the rules; she seems to have caught onto something that you still haven’t grasped, because she now collects herself with an entirely different—almost heightened—awareness.

You’re having increasingly conflicting feelings, especially when you consider the fact that Hannibal hasn’t actually exhibited any behavior that justifies your wariness and suspicion. If anything, he’s been the perfect supporter—the perfect husband—throughout your recovery. You want to believe your gut sense, want to believe the whispers in the back of your mind that tell you to exercise caution. But, at the same time, who’s to say they can be believed? You still have almost no recollection of who you are. Why are you questioning the only person who has bothered to show up for you throughout your recovery?

Days pass in the blink of an eye; before you know it, Hannibal is walking in one morning with the declaration that you’ve been officially discharged from the hospital. Despite your misgivings, you head to the bathroom to change into some normal clothes before putting on the pair of shoes near the door. Your heart is racing as Hannibal’s gaze refuses to leave your form. Why can’t your mind rest? Why can’t your thoughts be silent, for once? Why are you so damn suspicious of every minute kindness?

The walk out of the hospital and through the parking lot is painfully silent. You can’t resist sneaking glances at Hannibal, waiting for his mask to crack and fall. It never does. He catches you looking and sends you a smile, which discourages you from looking again. You let your eyes roam about the shiny cars in the parking lot as the warm afternoon sunlight greets your skin. You missed the fresh air.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally ask, as you continue to follow behind the man.

“Home,” Hannibal remarks. He pointedly does not say your home or even our home. Your heart is racing in your chest. His back is turned, leaving you to imagine the expression on his face.

It isn’t until you’re secured in the front seat and Hannibal’s driving out of the parking lot that you summon the courage to utter the question that has been plaguing your mind. “Are you really my husband?”

“Hm?” It’s clear he heard you; he’s giving you a chance to retract the remark. You know you should take it, but… you want to know what’s going on. You need to find an answer for the seemingly irrational fear drumming in your chest and rushing in your ears.

“You say you’re my husband,” You repeat yourself, gaining a bit more confidence. “But I don’t think you are.” For an awful moment, there’s nothing but silence. The car zips along the road. You feel your hand trembling at your side—hopefully the only visible sign of your distress. You clench your shaking hand into a fist and try to remain calm. Panicking won’t do you any good.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Hannibal asks instead. You stare at him in disbelief, surprised by how he completely ignores your accusation. There is an utter lack of emotion on his face. Seconds later, you remember his question and shake your head. “You’re an FBI agent,” Hannibal reveals. “I was called in to perform your psychiatric evaluation.”

Great. Just great. Out of all things, you had to be an FBI agent. The thought of forgetting your work—forgetting all the victims left to die in muddied puddles of crimson, forgetting all the killers with mocking smiles and cruelty written in the lines of their faces—is sincerely troubling.

And Hannibal is a psychiatrist. That seems to fit—you can see him in a needlessly extravagant office, surrounded by books and expensive elegancies. You have to shake your head to get rid of the weirdly vivid imagery that your thoughts produce. “Are you… my psychiatrist, then?” You ask.

“If you wish,” he replies with a mirthful smile. That answer doesn’t satisfy your curiosity—not in the slightest.

“Were you my psychiatrist?” You press. You get the feeling that you need to be asking the right questions in order to get the answers you want. The man across from you is adept at picking apart people’s words, flipping them around and twisting their intended meaning. Your wording will be immensely important.

“I was your psychiatrist, for a time,” Hannibal acquiesces. From that statement, you get the sense that he really was your psychiatrist, until something evidently happened. You ask him as much, but you seem to go too far, because he regards you with an amused glance. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“And you’re not giving me any answers,” you feel the need to respond. You have simultaneous suspicions that honesty is dangerous in front of Hannibal, and that he values honesty above sugar-coated words. Your eyebrows furrow. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal is providing more questions in lieu of answers. He’s definitely hiding something. Sensing that you won’t get anything more from him, you fall silent and settle for staring at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is locked on the road ahead. Despite the time you’ve spent together, talking about your past, you still aren’t totally convinced that you’re married to Hannibal. Is there a way you could test him—test his knowledge of you? Surely there’s something you can ask him to determine if he truly knows you or not.

It comes to you a moment later. “What’s my favorite color?” You ask, before you can think better of it. The man doesn’t react at first, instead staring straight ahead. Just before you can repeat the question, he answers.

“I can’t imagine you have a favorite color,” Hannibal responds. “You once told me the very notion was foolish.”

Okay, he’s sort of correct there. But that was an easy question. You sort through the few memories you have, looking for something you can ask him. “What’s my middle name?” That’s an answer that you just barely know yourself—a memory came back to you a mere few minutes ago, of you and your childhood friend talking about middle names and nicknames and other unimportant things.

Hannibal answers the question correctly again. The two of you must’ve been friends, at the very least. You continue to search your mind for something you can ask him.

Five minutes and several questions later, you’re starting to doubt your own conviction. Hannibal answers every single question correctly, providing you with information you don’t remember but know deep-down to be true. It’s unnerving and disturbing to think that you could’ve forgotten this man so easily. He seems… utterly unforgettable, in every sense of the word. Furthermore, he’s your husband—perhaps you shouldn’t be doubting him so easily.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, before you can quite contemplate your next words. Hannibal’s eyes are locked on the road, but you know he’s listening. “I don’t mean to doubt you, I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t remember anything, obviously, and… I feel so lost.” You choke out, your throat burning. You bury your head in your hands for a selfish moment, hoping for some solace and clarity.

“Don’t apologize, dear,” Hannibal says. You hate how the remark sends a shiver down your spine. Damn it, why can’t you just be comfortable? This man is practically a dream, so why are you trying to ruin it? Can’t you just accept that, sometimes, you deserve to have nice things?! Hannibal continues, unknowing of your internal dilemma. “You’re going through a lot right now. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You feel ashamed, knowing that you’ve been holding yourself back despite the fact that Hannibal has shown you nothing but compassion and affection. “I’m… happy you’re here, too,” you say. Guilt prickling in your chest, you impulsively reach out and clasp his free hand resting on the console. Somehow, this surprises your husband, because he stiffens for a second before reciprocating, gripping your hand reassuringly.

“We will get through this,” he promises. You push aside your doubts and decide to believe him.

Maybe things really will be alright. Maybe, you’ll get your memories back sooner rather than later, and you’ll be able to look back on these moments—riddled with doubt, insecurity, wariness—and laugh. You take a deep breath and look out the window, watching the passing trees blur together.

Your hand slips from Hannibal’s and you look at your nails, picking at your cuticles. Your hands are somewhat indicative of the life you led—the one you don’t remember living—with a few scars stretching down your wrist and climbing up your forearm. You look down at the healed wound and frown, trying to remember how you got the scar.

Suddenly, you get a flicker of a memory. It’s faint and fast, but it’s a reminder of the past nonetheless. You squint ahead, trying to focus on keeping the flashback in your mind for long enough to dissect it. You remember… blood. A corpse, perhaps? Yes, a corpse. A woman’s corpse, hoisted and impaled on antlers. You remember… staring at that corpse for so long that you had to be physically led away from the scene, albeit with a gnawing feeling in your gut that something just wasn’t right. You remember… walking into an office, only to be met with Hannibal’s curious gaze. That must’ve been the first time you met the psychiatrist. You put a hand to your temple and try desperately to concentrate.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Hannibal says, effectively throwing your focus. You blink and chance a glance at him. He’s still looking at the road, yet you can’t shake the perplexing conviction that he’s been watching you. What’s more, you can’t shake the feeling that his interjection was purposeful—that he meant to throw you off and break your concentration.

“I- just remembered something,” you choke out, feeling a bolt of pain slide down your scalp to the back of your neck. You bring a hand to the nape of your neck and press, hissing as your fingers glide over sore muscles. “Something important.”

“Congratulations,” Hannibal hums, immune to your internal panic. You don’t know exactly what this man did, but he must’ve done something. Your subconscious is convinced that he is incredibly dangerous, and you feel inclined to trust your gut.

Another flashback arrives, apropos of nothing. You remember sitting across from Hannibal in a finely-decorated room, lined with bookshelves and artifacts. You remember averting your eyes as you speak, desperate to avoid the roaring flames racing up your skin with every additional moment of prolonged eye contact. You remember… a twisted grin on Hannibal’s face. You remember… the intensity to his gaze as he studied you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Unsettled, you shake your head and try to refocus on the passing scenery again. To your surprise, you think you recognize where you are. Hannibal must be taking you home. You take a deep breath. You just have to survive this car ride—then you can figure things out from there. You have all the time in the world to muse on the nature of your injury and the nature of your “husband,” once you’re safely contained within four walls. Right now, though, you need to be wary. You need to have your wits about you, you need to watch for any sudden movements, you need to be ready-

“We’re here,” Hannibal announces, promptly throwing your thought process to a halt. You blink and look ahead, only to find a nondescript home with beige siding and a somewhat weathered front door. Vaguely, you remember pulling your car into this driveway, remember unpacking boxes from your trunk. Yes, this is your house. Hannibal is much quicker on the uptake, as he gets out of the car and walks around the vehicle. You don’t realize that he’s opening the passenger door for you until you feel him staring at you expectantly. You thank him and get to your feet, a sudden bout of dizziness sending you wobbling. Hannibal is there in a moment, steadying you with a hand on your forearm. You pretend not to notice his hand on the small of your back as you walk up the path to the front porch. When you’re finally situated in front of the entrance, you realize that you have no idea where your keys could be.

“Left pocket of your jacket,” Hannibal murmurs, as if reading your mind. You nearly choke on a breath.

“Thanks,” you respond a bit breathlessly. When you finally manage to unlock the front door and swing it open, you turn back to face him. “Well, thank you for the ride.”

“Of course,” Hannibal responds easily. There’s a regretful smile rising on his face. Everything around you fades to obscurity. “I’m afraid this is goodbye.” That remark sounds strangely ominous. Your heart is in your throat.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you feel the need to say, regardless of your suspicions about the man. He was the only one to visit you. You don’t want to think about how you would feel if you spent your entire hospital visit without a single familiar face. “...Bye.” Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek. Hannibal’s hand cradles your jaw, his thumb gently roving along your skin. He regards you for a moment, his eyes sparkling, before kissing you on the cheek and leaving. You watch him return to his car and drive away, apprehension and adrenaline coursing through you. Somehow, you get the feeling that you’ll never see Hannibal again.

Your doorbell rings about an hour later. You look through your peephole, only to find a somewhat intimidating man with his hands shoved in his pockets. You have to focus on quelling the foolish spike of hope that had risen in your chest when the doorbell rang, and the subsequent disappointment at the unfamiliar figure you found. You take a second glance at the stranger, only to find that he looks somewhat familiar. This vague familiarity convinces you to crack your front door open slightly and ask him, “Who are you?”

The man pulls something out of his pocket. “Jack Crawford, FBI,” he answers, showing you his identification card. You stare at him for another moment. “Your boss.” Crawford supplies, when you can’t seem to get the words out. After a few seconds of awkward silence, you decide to invite him inside.

Before long, the two of you are settled in your living room. The tension that first appeared when you opened your front door has yet to fade. You’re not sure why this man has yet to crop up in your memories—he has a rather powerful aura of authority, not to mention the fact that he’s apparently your superior. You decide not to beat yourself up about it. Your memories will come back in due time; until then, you’ll make do with what little you have.

Crawford—Jack, he tells you to call him—clasps his hands over his knees and levels you with an unreadable gaze. “I need to ask you something,” Jack says, rifling through his other pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it slowly, before revealing it to you. “Do you remember this man? Hannibal Lecter?” Jack explains, immune to your growing dread. You feel sick to your stomach as your eyes flit across the black-and-white photograph of the same man who watched over you vigilantly as you recovered, who claimed to be your husband and kissed you on the cheek mere moments ago. “He’s the Chesapeake Ripper—the serial killer who has been evading capture.”

“I-” You stammer, bringing a hand to your temple. Your headache from earlier is returning and your head is spinning from this sudden disclosure. You almost don’t want to believe Jack, but you get the feeling that he’d have no reason to lie to you. If anything, lying would just make his job harder. You take a shuddering breath in, trying to come to terms with the fact that you just narrowly escaped a serial killer’s grasp.

“It’s alright,” Jack tries to reassure you, evidently sensing that you’re growing a bit panicked.

“No, I-” You’re choking on the words. Recent memories are mixing with old, creating a convoluted and murky timeline of events. It’s hard to sort through everything, to find the truths hidden amongst the lies. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to collect your composure and organize your thoughts into a relatively coherent statement. “I saw him. He… visited me in the hospital. He drove me home.”

“What?” Jack asks, utter disbelief written all over his face. You don’t remember your boss very well, but you get the feeling he isn’t usually so expressive. The look on his face would be comical, in a different situation. “What did he say to you?” He implores.

“He said a lot of things… Nothing very important.” You try to recall what you can, but your memories are quickly slipping through your fingertips in granules of sparkling sand. You press a hand to your temple, your headache growing worse as you try to recall what happened. “I tried asking him questions about me, to throw him off, but he knew all the answers.”

Somehow, Jack doesn’t seem surprised by the notion. “You two were… close, before,” your boss evidently settles for saying. There’s a certain suspicion in his voice, as if he suspects you may have been more than “close” with Hannibal. You’re feeling too discombobulated to rise to the bait or bother calling him out on the obvious verbal trap.

“He said ‘goodbye,’” you continue, eyebrows furrowing. Somehow, you get the sense that Hannibal isn’t the type to utter goodbyes. Moreover, a goodbye ushers in a sense of finality, as if you will truly never see him again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, pretending that your exchange with him on your doorstep isn’t replaying in your mind. He kissed me on the cheek, you don’t say to Jack. He said he was my husband. He watched over me in the hospital when no one else did. And it may have been fake, all of it… But that gleam of affection in his eyes didn’t look manufactured—it looked genuine.

Jack looks troubled and somewhat restless. “You’re lucky you made it out alive.” He states. You don’t think you can quite believe his words. For whatever reason, Hannibal Lecter—the Chesapeake Ripper—is interested in you. Whether sick fascination or cloying obsession, you have to face the facts: luck had nothing to do with it. The Ripper kept you alive because, inexplicably, he wants you alive.

And that unnerves you.

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calmcoldevening · 5 months

Note

I’m begging you for a part 2 of the knowing the slashers when they were younger fic where they meet when they’re older if you’re up for it ofc🙏

You knew slashers when you were a child and now you grow up and met them

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

TW: mention of blood, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Ps: english is not my native language, so sorry for misspells. And also i really didn't know what I needed to write about Sinclair, because i need to rewatch the movie to remember their characters, so i didn't write about them. I hope you'll enjoy our sweet Tommy and baby boy Brahms

Part one ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Thomas Hewitt

You just recently graduated from college and decided to celebrate it with a trip with your friends to one of the US states. The choice fell on Texas. You still had pleasant memories of your school life in this place in your heart, and your heart ached at the thought of how soon you left your hometown. Not that you would call these people friends, but you were good acquaintances and helped each other with tasks. And so you packed your bags and within half an hour you were all driving together in a small SUV. The boyfriend of one of your 'friends' (Jessica) was driving. He was a good man, although he joked about unpleasant topics from time to time. But you turned a blind eye to it. In the end, you will finally find yourself back in the good old Texas.

The road was long, so you had a lot of time to think. You were sitting in the farthest seat, staring into space and slowly stroking an old, slightly battered fox toy with your hand. Your thoughts revolved around one person. That shy little boy you had such a happy conversation with years ago. It was your first memorable friend. You no longer had friends who could surpass sweet Tommy.

Finally, the car turned at a sign with the inscription of a city you know. Your heart started beating faster and you couldn't suppress a smile in anticipation. Soon you will see him again, a sweet shy boy. Although now it will probably be a guy, after all, it's been almost twelve years. This figure was almost painful.

The Texas landscape flowed like a soft canvas on the other side of the window, the sun mercilessly burned his eyes, refracting through the glass. It was hot and stuffy. You're lucky to get into one of the hottest periods in Texas. This place has changed somewhat, although it remains the same as you remembered it. The once small plantings have now turned into real tall trees, although they did not save much from the sultry sun. The wheels of the car turned quickly on turns with an unpleasant sound, raising a cloud of dust behind them. Jessica's boyfriend, Tim, apparently loved playing racer very much, even on the main state road.

By all the laws of luck, Tim abruptly informed you that you were running out of gas. There was a gas station nearby. You entered a small diner next to the gas station, and your heart instantly warmed up. It was that sweet woman, Thomas's mom. Luda-May, isn't that right?

"Hello, Luda," you say with a slight smile, approaching the cash register. The woman looks up at you with a frown, peering at your appearance for a few seconds. Finally, recognition seemed to flash across her face.

"Y/N?" She asks dryly, her voice a little rougher than what you remember from childhood. You nod in response. A warm smile appears on Mrs. Hewitt's face and she hurries out from behind the counter, wrapping you in a gentle, almost maternal embrace. "God, girl.. I never thought I'd see you again. You've grown up so much."

"I'm so sorry that I left so quickly. It was my parents' idea, not mine."

"I understand, honey, don't worry. We've all missed you. Especially Tommy."

The mere mention of his name makes your heart ache. Tommy... You haven't seen him for so long. Your heart yearned for those beloved cornflower blue eyes. You reluctantly pull away from the cozy embrace of Luda, your hand reflexively reaches for your hair, removing a stray strand from your face when you understand the look at a woman.

"You still live there, don't you? Can I see him?"

"Of course, my girl. I've just finished. Hoyt should be arriving soon."

Hoyt? Your brain was carefully trying to find at least one mention of that name in your memory, but nothing came to mind. Strange. Although it may be one of their relatives or friends, after all, you haven't been here for too long, it couldn't have stayed the same, could it?

What was your surprise when that Hoyt turned out to be old Charlie. Although his appearance was now quite pretentious: sheriff's clothes, hat and badge. Something was wrong. This man has been lazy all his life, he could not suddenly decide to go to work in a place related to healthcare. But you chose to remain silent. Hoyt didn't seem to recognize you. When he saw your friends, he invited them to go with them, saying that he had a can of gasoline at home.

"Take the guys, and then you'll come for us. I don't think the sheriff's car can hold that many people," Luda intervened, grabbing your arm protectively. It's got you a little stressed out. Although there was some truth in her words. Five former students came with you, all of them obviously wouldn't have gotten into Charlie's car. The man wanted to say something, but gave up, nodding to the woman.

And so they left. All that time, Luda was asking about your life, enjoying listening to stories from college. She was more interested in this than your own parents. And now Hoyt is back. He was in high spirits. You got to the Hewitt house safely. As a child, as now, the building was still huge for you. Luda carefully led you into the kitchen, offering you tea. God, you've missed this place.

"Tommy! Come here, we have guests," Luda shouted and you heard hurried rustles and heavy footsteps from the basement.

It made you tense up a little bit. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a tall man, the size of an entire closet, entered the kitchen. Your blood turned cold. You slowly looked up. A long, tall body, wavy dark hair and a leather mask on his face. He frowns down at you, seeming to evaluate you with his cold blue eyes.

"Tommy?" As if nothing had happened, Luda-Mae asks in a cheerful voice, "Do you remember Y/N?"

It seemed that at that moment the gears were turning in his head. You needed time to think about it too. Was this huge man Thomas? No, of course, Tommy was a bit of a big kid as a kid, but he was still quite small. The only thing that attracted attention was his bandage on his face. Now it has been replaced by a strange leather mask.

You didn't even have time to think, as careful footsteps were heard from the basement. It seemed, but Tommy and none of the People were found at first. And Tim appeared behind Thomas. God, he was covered in blood and his back was bleeding. Your face is filled with pure horror. And that gave Tim away. Thomas notices your fear and turns around, immediately grabbing Tim roughly and dragging him back to the basement. Your brain screamed like a hunted animal that you needed to get out of here and urgently. Something has happened to this family, something bad, since they communicate with other people like that. But as soon as you tried to run to the exit, at that moment you were hit by something heavy on the back of the head.

His heart ached for you. You were the first person who ever showed him kindness in your life, and now you will surely be afraid of him. God, he wouldn't want to see fear in your beautiful eyes when you're afraid of him. His body was filled with an unpleasant feeling of disappointment and pain. He didn't want that, really. But he wanted to keep you by his side, he didn't want to let you go again. And he didn't want you to hurt the family. So now he was gently wiping the remnants of blood from your beautiful face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. You were still as beautiful, his heart began to beat faster, as it did when he was a child. He saw that toy in your friends' car, you kept it all these years. Thomas couldn't help but smile. Maybe you loved him too? Not now, not after what he did.

The following days were a blur. Your head ached, and an unpleasant heaviness tightened your neck. They put you on a chain. Thomas or Luda would check on you from time to time, Luda would just leave food, and Thomas would just sit on the bed next to you and just look at you. Sometimes he would try to touch you, but you would instantly jump aside like a wounded animal. Thomas's heart ached painfully in his chest. Although.. He deserved it, didn't he? All his life he was looked at with disgust or fear. But he didn't care about those people. All these simple passers-by or victims were just empty meat. But you were afraid of him now. He couldn't stand your gaze, full of fear for your life, so he left the room every time, unable to look in your eyes.

The days slowly followed each other. You were still afraid. But there was something else. Whenever Thomas enters the room, your eyes involuntarily glided over his big strong body. You wanted to snuggle up to him, find comfort in his arms. But there was a part of you that knew it was wrong. They killed people, they killed your friends. They chained you up and kept you here like some kind of dog. And yet your body was begging for his warmth, just like when you were a child.

What was Thomas's surprise when the next time he came into the room, you crawled closer to him, asking for a hug. Your arms clumsily wrapped around his body. Thomas blushed instantly. His heart felt so good. He gently grabbed you by the hips, putting you on his lap, and hugging your fragile body with his strong arms. He buried his nose in your hair. How he missed that feeling. His brain was filled with the scent of your skin. Thomas let out a relieved whimper as you began to gently run your fingers through his tangled hair.

He never left you, he won't let you go into this cruel world again. He will protect you with all his heart. His sweet girl.

Brahms Heelshire

"Now I've won," the man says in a hoarse voice through his cracked porcelain mask with a doll's face.

He was breathing heavily, hanging over you, his left hand pressed against the wall behind you, while the other reached out to your face, gently stroking.

"Still beautiful," he whispers, caressing your chin with his thumb, tracing your lower lip with his fingernail. Your heart was pounding wildly, you shrank under the man's gaze like a frightened animal. His movements were rough, but his touch seemed almost gentle, as if he didn't want to disrupt this moment or harm your fragile being. His breathing was loud and heavy because of the mask, and the skin under his eyes was slightly reddened. And those eyes. Those warm eyes are the color of pure amber under the bright sun. They looked at you with extraordinary affection and humility. You could recognize those eyes out of a thousand. Like back then, fifteen years ago.

You nervously clutched the steering wheel rim with your right hand, counting the turns. Not so long ago, you managed to get a new job, and who would have thought that this job would be in your childhood home. Or rather, your friend. They always treated you like their own child, so they gave you this job without any problems.

The weather was clear, it was only the beginning of autumn. Some of the trees have already turned golden, their leaves rustling unobtrusively. The sky was clear, without a single cloud, so the sun shone brightly through the windshield of your car. It seemed that nothing could spoil your return to your childhood home.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The mind was filled with thousands of pleasant memories of your past together and children's laughter. You missed Brahms so much. It's been a long time since you've seen him.

Finally, after a couple of long hours, you arrived at the Hilsher estate. It remained the same. Obviously, Mr. Heelshire was still carefully tending the garden, growing his wife's favorite flowers. You stopped right next to the driveway, the wheels moving pleasantly on the gravel. After getting out of the car, you went inside without thinking twice. The greenery of this place has always been striking in its beauty, it seemed that no seasons had power over this place, the forests of the estate still gave pleasure with their emerald color and the coolness of the dense grove.

You were met at the very door by Mrs. Heelshire. She has changed a lot since your last visit, of course, the years take their toll. Her eyes were a little red and tired, and there were small bruises under them. Her face was unusually pale and her hair was gray, but not as when it happens from age, but when a person goes through a lot of life difficulties and faces stress.

"Honey, I haven't seen you for so long," the woman said smiling, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Her hugs were pleasant, but strangely nervous, "We were surprised when we received your candidacy for this job."

"I just really wanted to come back. My parents wouldn't let me go just like that."

"And for good reason," the woman mutters to herself, immediately turning to face you with a warm smile, "We always want only the best for you, my girl, don't hold a grudge against us."

Her words strain you a little, but you attribute it to her slight excitement before the long-awaited vacation. After all, for as long as you can remember, Mrs. Heelshire has always been a caring and hardworking woman, she didn't know the word 'rest'.

After ten tedious minutes, Mrs. Heelshire explains to you the set of rules and your responsibilities. It seemed like she was trying in a hurry to tell you everything at once. Her eyes were constantly darting around the walls of the house.

And now you're alone. Taking care of the doll was not so difficult. Although you still didn't understand why the doll had the name of your childhood best friend. No one's parents told you what happened to Brahms, you just moved in a couple of days before his birthday. You didn't even have time to give him the gift you made with your own hands. Years later, you felt guilty about it. But now, that feeling seemed to be gone. It feels like you're finally in your place. You're home.

It happened two weeks after your arrival at the manor. As usual, you were sorting out the groceries that Malcolm brought while the man was standing next to you, leaning against the doorjamb. He was watching you carefully, talking about something. To be honest, you've noticed for a long time how ambiguously he looks at you. All those jokes, compliments, touches and glances. He was flirting with you. But you could definitely tell that he wasn't your type. Damn it, he was overconfident. But in a relationship, you wanted to 'be at the helm', you wanted a guy with character, but definitely obedient. And Malcolm definitely didn't fit that description.

"..hey, can you leave this doll after all? Let's go to my place. I'll show you a lot of interesting things," he says with a sly grin, taking a few steps closer.

"The Heelshirs left me here for a reason, I don't want to undermine their trust."

"Come on, do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a house with just this doll?" The guy purrs, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your neck. You are annoyed by his behavior and you step on Malcolm's foot with force. He hisses and quickly pulls away. "Fuck, are you stupid?"

"Watch your mouth, boy."

Malcolm tenses up. He hears rapid rustling in the walls, his eyes darting around the room.

"The hell with you," he finally gives up. Malcolm grabs the empty boxes and leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. You're relieved. He seems to be a man, but he behaves like a scared boy.

"Y/N.. Did he hurt you?" A small child's voice comes from somewhere in the hallway. You flinch a little. You knew that voice. Brahms. True, his voice was a little different in childhood, now it was quieter and plaintive. You quickly close the refrigerator and slowly walk towards the source of the sound.

"Who's here? Brahms?"

It all happened too fast. At first, you were driven by interest with a little bit of fear. In an instant, you saw a tall, broad figure towering over you by a good two heads. You were scared. You ran away, hoping to hide from a stranger. And one day you were pinned against the wall by a muscular figure.

"Y/N, don't be afraid... I didn't mean to scare you." A child's voice mumbles plaintively. You look into those hazel eyes and your heart sinks.

"Brahms?" In response, the man only reaches out to your face, gently caressing your cheek.

"Now I've won." His voice changes. Instead of a child's voice, a low, hoarse voice now caresses your ears. You feel electricity running down your spine, you instinctively squeeze your hips.

Your hands reach for the porcelain mask, but Brahms abruptly pulls away. He shakes his head negatively. He didn't want you to see his face. He doesn't want you to be scared. He doesn't want you to leave him like the others.

"Come on, Brahms. You're a good boy. Didn't you love kissing?" You speak with a slight smile. A long-drawn-out whine comes from under the mask. He nods briefly. You lift the edge of the mask, covering his hot lips with your own. Brahms's movements are fast and assertive, he bites your lips, squeezing your waist in his hands. He missed you so much.

#slashers x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms x reader #brahms the doll #brahms heelshire x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #the leatherface #leatherface x reader #leatherface x you

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redocity · 29 days

Note

Buck as the eternal playboy but folding the second the reader hits on him back? Maybe corner him against a wall for funsies >:)

THE LONG GAME — E.BUCKLEY

flirting between friends was always fun, but sometimes it borders something that is definitely not platonic, and once that line is crossed, buck’s not sure he wants to go back to what you had before.

WARNINGS: 16+ for suggestiveness, alcohol, lots of flirting, chimney being a cockblock rip, buck is so sexually frustrated rip

evan buckley x gn!reader || ???? || 3.1k || requests open!

a/n: not me giggling over my own writing, how sad is that-

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Arguably the best part about your job was being able to celebrate a job well done.

That feeling of accomplishment after getting through a really tough call with nothing but a positive outcome.

The team never went half-assed on the celebrations, and you’re sure that the bar you all frequent post-shift knows you all by name by now from how often you all abandon your nights to spend an extra few hours in each other’s company.

That was another thing you loved about your job. The team. Your family.

You could spend 24 straight hours with them and they’d still make an excuse to spend a few more with everyone.

Today was no different. You rolled up to the bar in a tight-circle, eerily resembling the professional attitude you had to display during your work hours, one not yet shed considering it’d only been three-quarters of an hour since your shift ended.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, you’d all be too drunk to care about professionalism soon enough. Well except Bobby anyway.

You barely had time to walk through the front doors before Buck was running up to the bar to order everyone a round of drinks, a confident smirk etched on his face that only grew as the local news recounted the story of one of they day’s earlier calls with civilian footage.

“I wonder who that is,” He nudges your side as you walk over, cockiness washing all over his face as he nods up towards the TV hanging up by the ceiling. “They look pretty badass,”

You give him an almost dismissive hum as you pick up one of the glasses from the cluster to take a sip of the craft beer filling it. “I wonder,”

“Oh come on, you’re all over the news,” He gives you another small nudge. “You’re practically famous right now,”

He leans in towards you to talk over the music, reaching over to grab a pint glass of his own and clinking it animatedly against yours before taking a swig from it.

“He’s right you know,” Hen gives you nudge herself, joined by an enthusiastic thumbs up from Chimney behind her. “Own it,”

“Right? you pulled a whole superhero move,” Buck motions up towards the news broadcast again, where they are still replaying a clip of you kicking through a pane of reinforced glass on a high-rise from on top of the roof as an alternative method of entry to the collapsed stairwell on the inside.

“Sounds like you’re projecting Buckley, jealous?” You raise your eyebrow with an air of amusement as you take another swig from your glass.

“Absolutely not, in fact, I’m the opposite of jealous right now,” He leans in towards you again so that your shoulders brush together. “It was hot,”

“Okay horndog,” You roll your eyes at his comment, pushing away his face with the palm of your hand pressed to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants will you?”

He does nothing but laugh at the way you scold him, allowing you your personal space as he sits up straight once more.

Buck’s ability to flirt his way through any situation was honestly mildly impressive, how he managed to twist any situation into having a sensual undertone no matter what it was.

Last week it was Eddie carrying a sandbag into the station gym. The week before that it was the fact that Hen had cut a slice of lasagna for him instead of him doing it himself.

And apparently this week’s target was you. For jumping off a roof and shattering a glass window with your feet.

You’d question his taste if you didn’t know he was joking.

Although as the night went on and the table became increasingly cluttered with empty glasses, you started to question whether it was actually a joke.

Whether it was some quirk of his personality, or something more serious.

They say that drunk words are sober thoughts right? And Buck was definitely drunk and definitely spouting some choice words right now.

He whistles as you pot one of the striped balls on the pool table, his competitiveness all but disappeared underneath the haze that his alcohol consumption had laid over his brain. “Skilled with your feet and your hands? You’re just about every guy’s dream,”

He leans across the pool table to aim his shot, pool cue horribly aimed to the point where the cue ball barely skims the solid red ball he was aiming for. “Probably every girl’s dream too actually,”

“Instead of trying to kiss my ass, maybe you should focus on actually playing the game,” You genuinely can’t tell by this point whether his poor skills were an effect of the alcohol running through his system or if he was doing it on purpose just to get under your skin.

If there was one thing you did, it was play fair, and that included not letting your opponent give you an easy win.

“Oh how I would love to kiss that ass,” He makes an exaggerated show of leaning backwards to get a clear view, giving you another short whistle as you lean over the table to line up your next shot.

“Win the game and maybe i’ll let you,”

You swear you can see the moment his mind fractures, enunciated by another striped ball falling into one of the pockets and you lining up another shot.

He’s like a robot doing a hard reset, his eyes staring blankly at you like he physically cannot comprehend that you’d actually say something like that.

You don’t make your next shot, though whether by distraction from Buck’s eyes on the side of your face or your own drunken mistake you’re not entirely sure. Either way, when you straighten up to stand again, Buck hasn’t moved an inch.

“Go on, your turn,” You tap the side of his arm with your pool cue, amusement washing over your features as you watch him physically jolt from the contact and shake his head as if to physically shake off what you’d said to him.

Who knew such a casanova would get so flustered when someone played along with his little flirting game.

He ended up losing of course, you were far too much ahead for him to have a chance of catching up before you potted the eight ball and took the game, and you could swear there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes, and not because of the four solid colour balls still left on the table.

He didn’t even glance at them.

No, instead he kept his eyes firmly locked on you as you gloated your win.

“Now that is something to celebrate,” You lay your cue on the table with a victorious smirk. “Better luck next time I suppose,”

Your cockiness continues to flourish as you pot the remaining balls into the pockets and take Buck’s pool cue from him to lay it next to yours. “So what’s my reward then?”

”I- What?” He blinks at you a few times, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his mind tries to catch up to the conversation.

“Well we laid out what would happen if you won, so what do I get for actually winning?” You tilt your head to the side as you take a step towards him, arms crossed over your chest with your eyebrow raised. “Surely I deserve to be rewarded, no?”

“I can uh…I can buy you a drink…” Buck pursed his lips together, dry swallowing as he leant backwards against the pool table upon your approach. He honestly didn’t know what was coming over him. Why was he so ruffled under the collar about this?

This was his prime domain, so why was it the second that you mirrored his interest he shut down and started backtracking on himself like a highschooler?

“I think we’ve had enough drinks don’t you?” You take another step forward as he sits on the edge of the table, essentially boxing him in despite there being very easy escape points at both his right and his left. “Besides, I want to be sober enough to remember this tomorrow,”

What on earth did you mean by that?

God he felt pathetic right now, a 6’2, 220lbs man being boxed in against a pool table of all things by one of his extremely attractive coworkers because you’d had a sudden streak of confidence and decided to flip his advances back on himself.

“Uh…” He gives a small, half awkward chuckle as his eyes flicker to consciously remain focused on your own eyes and not fall downwards. He knew the uniforms were tight but god did he not notice how tight they were until he was having to physically restrain himself from looking further down. “Right well- uh- what do you want then..?”

Buck watched as your eyes left his to flicker downwards, not so far down that you were staring at his chest, but just far down enough that he could tell you had your attention on a part of his face that was not his eyes.

He’d blame the bright red of his cheeks on the drinks if you asked about it, but you seem far too enamoured by the way he nervously purses and bites his lips under your gaze to even so much as glance at anything else.

“You know what I want..?” You break your staring to meet his eyes again, although you still make the time to turn your eyes down to his mouth again during the breaks between words.

He swears you’re leaning in with every word, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t leaning in himself, a sharp, stuttered breath escaping his lips as you get close enough so your breath fans across his cheeks. “I think so…”

You give a small hum at his answer, lips quirking into a smile as you narrow your gaze and tilt your head slightly to the left so that your noses don’t bump together as you bring your faces within an inch of each other.

His lips part on instinct, breathing a whisper of air into your mouth as he anticipates the contact with closed eyes.

“I want you to stop drinking my orange juice,”

The tension in his shoulders seems to drop at your statement, and his eyes shoot back open as you pull yourself back to stand fully upright, absolute delight drenching your features as you read the waves of shock and dissatisfaction that roll over him at the sudden change in atmosphere. “What?-”

He was so close. So close to having your lips on his. And you ripped it away from him with that stupidly hot smirk on your face like you knew exactly what you were doing.

You definitely knew what you were doing.

“In the station, I know it’s you,” You explain yourself like it’s no big deal, like you weren’t centimetres from giving Buck what he’d been pining for for so goddamn long a few seconds ago. “Buy your own juice,”

“I- Seriously?” Exasperation practically drowns his voice as he speaks, and he narrows his gaze with an air of desperation that makes you want to give him exactly what he wants. “You pretend you’re going to kiss me and then tell me not to drink your goddamn orange juice? Not cool man,”

“Maybe you shoulda won the game, I don’t know what to tell you,” You shrug your shoulders with an air of nonchalance that only you would be able to muster in a situation like this, and it frustrates Buck beyond all belief.

“That’s not fair,” Buck shakes his head as he stands. “I didn’t know you were being serious,”

“Well that’s just too bad isn’t it?” You clasp your hands together with a tilt of your head.

“No, we’re not just gonna move on okay?” It’s Buck’s turn to approach you now, his hands emphasising his words as he waves them in front of himself. “I have waited so long for you to suggest you were interested in me you cannot just back out like nothing happened,”

You swerve his approach with a laugh to walk around the side of the pool table, like his frustration is the funniest thing in the world to you and not literally tearing him apart with every moment you try to brush off the lingering tension between you. “You are way too pent up about this,”

“I am the exact right amount of pent up about this,” He follows you around the table to box you in as you did him, except this time there’s really no escape as he plants his hands firmly against the edge of the table on either side of you. “You can’t just lean in like you’re going to kiss me and bail right at the last second,”

“I thought you liked the long game,” You cross your arms over your chest as a deflection from the way your heart rate quickens, trying to cover the increase in how fast your chest rises and falls under the gaze he’s trapped you in.

“I’ve played long enough,” He leans his weight on his arms, bringing his face towards yours slowly. “I need to know if I’ve won,”

“I’d say so,” Your eyes are much less confident now the roles have been reversed, struggling to maintain contact with his as his face continues its steady path towards your own.

“Prove it.” You’re close enough now that you can feel the breath from every word he speaks on your skin, and his intentions are laid out very clearly as his gaze falls from your eyes to your lips.

He is going to kiss you if you don’t do anything to stop him.

He wants to taste the mix of alcohol on salt on your lips, explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue. He wants to feel the heat of your palms against his cheeks as you cup his face to stop him from pulling away and make you kiss him until neither of you can breathe.

He’s waited long enough to have you like this, and after your previous stunt, he’s not sure he can physically last much longer before he explodes from the frustration.

The way his hands slide from resting on the table either side of you to holding your hips solidifies that point tenfold.

He gives your waist a soft tug until your torso collides with his, and you have to brace your hands against his shoulders to stop yourself from losing your balance and stumbling right into him.

And then he’s leaning in again, his eyes flickering over your expression to look for any trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your features before he makes the final move.

And then there’s a shot glass between your faces.

“Shots?”

Chimney, ever horrible at reading the room —probably because he’s so drunk he can barely stand upright anymore— holds up two shots towards the two of you, one in each hand. “They’re on me~” He adds that extra part at the end as the true selling point, and it takes all of Buck’s self-restraint to not knock the glasses out out Chimney’s hand to make him leave the two of you alone.

You don’t seem so agitated.

“Why thank you,” You break from Buck’s grasp to take one of the shots from Chimney’s hand, raising it in Buck’s direction. “Here’s to playing the long game,”

You down the shot quickly, leaving the empty glass on the edge of the pool table to rejoin the group at the bar, leaving Buck alone and so goddamn sexually frustrated he genuinely thinks he might pass out from the strain.

You know exactly what you’re doing by dragging this out, and he has half the mind to prove your idea of ‘safety’ from his advances in the group wrong by sending his conscience to hell and giving in to his inhibitions in front of everyone.

But he’s not quite drunk enough to push it that far. Even if most of the team wouldn’t remember it if he did.

“So that’s a no on the shot?” Chimney raises the remaining shot glass in Buck’s direction, seemingly completely oblivious to the colossal cockblock he’d just imposed.

“If you weren’t so drunk right now I would punch you I swear-” Buck huffs as he all but snatches the glass from Chimney’s hand and downs the shot in exasperation, the sharp burn in his throat doing nothing to distract him from the ache in his chest from having a possible moment from you ripped from underneath his nose again in the span of less than ten minutes.

“Woah, what did I do?” Chimney furrows his eyebrows in offence at Buck’s statement. “We’re supposed to be family man, last time I buy you anything,” He scoffs in indignation as he leaves Buck to join the rest of the group once more, clearly unhappy with Buck’s reception to his ‘gift’ of a free shot.

A free shot and a missed shot at finally making a move on you.

He knew that come your next shift you’d ignore everything that had happened tonight, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back to the silent glances and subtle gestures. He wanted all of you, not just some aimless flirting that never went anywhere.

At least he had confirmation that you were in fact interested in him, that was a step forward in the right direction he supposes.

But god was the long game starting to get on his nerves.

#9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction #buck x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley fluff #oliver stark #asks 🚒#redocity 🧯

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praisethegabs · 7 months

Text

SCARS

pre re4r!leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: You and Leon are the rookies in the training camp, although Leon is under the training of Major Krauser. You hate Krauser more than anyone else and you despise his methods, knowing how abusive he can be. As for Leon, he's your roommate and he's like a stranger to you — until you see his scars.

warnings: descriptions of violence, bullying and physical abuse. Leon cries a lot, hurt and comfort, angst with good ending.

word count: 4492k

a/n: another angst one shot with a happy ending. I'm really into angst, anyways. hope you guys like it as much as i do!

"Being silent does not mean not speaking but opening our ears to hear everything around us" Paulo Coelho

As you walked into the cold, fluorescent-lit government training facility, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. You were part of an elite group chosen for a classified program, and the details had been shrouded in secrecy. All you knew was that your skills were needed to combat a rising threat.

Navigating through the labyrinthine hallways, you finally arrived at your assigned room. You swiped your access card and pushed the door open, revealing a sparsely furnished living space. Two singles bed, two desks, and a small bathroom were all that adorned the room. You already knew you would have a roommate, and you were excited to meet them.

As you entered, your eyes fell upon a man standing near the window, gazing out at the facility's courtyard. He had a rugged handsomeness about him, and the name on his doorplate read "Leon Kennedy."

"Excuse me, I think there might be some mistake. I was assigned to this room, and it appears we're meant to be roommates." You cleared your throat to get his attention.

The man turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He was young, perhaps in his early 20s... but something about his eyes told you he's someone who went through a lot. His eyes were sad, tired and traumatized.

"Roommates, huh?" he said, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy."

You smiled largely at him, shaking his hand. You spotted a bandage over his shoulder; probably something recent. You left all your belongings under your new bed, and sat there with crossed legs.

"Do you know who's your instructor?" You asked him, curious.

"Major Krauser. Do you know who's yours?" Leon asked in return, avoiding your gaze.

"Hmm... I don't know yet, but apparently we won't train together" you said, grabbing a few clothes.

"Well, good luck" Leon faced you, his voice sounding kind for a brief moment, and he smiled.

You hated Major Krauser.

After the first month in the training camp, rumors had been circulating throughout the training facility about Major Krauser and his unorthodox methods. Whispers in the hallways and hushed conversations among the trainees hinted at the darkness behind his strict training regimen. You had heard your fellow agents-in-training speak in worried tones about the psychological toll it took and the physical brutality they endured under his guidance.

This evening, as you returned to your shared room after a grueling day of training, you noticed Leon sitting on his bed, shirtless. His body bore a tapestry of bruises, fresh and angry against his pale skin. It was the worst you had ever seen him, and it sent a chill down your spine.

"Leon," you gasped, rushing to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just a rough day in training. It's part of the program." Leon shifted his gaze away from you and shrugged, wincing in pain.

You didn't buy it. You knew that Leon had faced something before, even though he refused to talk about it, but these bruises looked different, more vicious. You couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Leon, this isn't right. I've been hearing things about Major Krauser, about what he does to us, to you" you sighed heavily, trying to convince him to talk.

"Come on, you don't understand. Krauser's methods may be tough, but they're meant to prepare us for the worst. We can't afford to be soft in this line of work." Leon's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and frustration, and he turned to face you.

Still, you weren't convinced. You'd seen the toll it was taking on your fellow trainees, and now, on the man you truly cared more than anyone.

"Leon, it's not about being soft. It's about doing what's right about treating us with respect and dignity. This isn't training; it's abuse." You glanced at him as your voice sounded more concerned, and you stood up, then sitting next to him.

Leon sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Sometimes we have to do things that others wouldn't understand. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I can't talk about it. Just focus on your training. We'll get through this."

You wanted to push further, to demand answers, but you could see the weariness in Leon's eyes. You knew he was hiding something, something that ran much deeper than the surface of their brutal training.

And then, when you were about to leave for dinner, someone knocked aggressively at the door. It was him, the said man you hated the most. Major Jack Krauser.

Krauser was standing there, an imposing figure with a harsh expression. "Kennedy," he barked, "get ready. We're going to train right now"

Leon nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He had been through tough training earlier, but something about today's session felt ominous. Krauser was notorious for his extreme methods, but this was different.

You watched silently as Leon left the room, being escorted by Krauser. Everyone at the dorm room was looking at the scene; it wasn't a secret that Krauser loved to bully Leon. If he had any small opportunity, he would definitely take advantage of it.

The training began, a relentless barrage of physical challenges and combat drills. Leon gave it his all, but Krauser pushed him harder than ever before. He moved with the agility of a panther, landing blows that seemed impossible to evade. Each strike landed with a painful intensity.

Time blurred as the grueling training continued. Leon's body ached, his breathing labored, but he refused to give in. He knew the importance of pushing his limits, especially in their line of work.

He felt every punch against his skin, the way Krauser did that just for his humiliation. It wasn't training. It was a pure demonstration of who was in charge.

"You're weak! Pathetic!" Krauser yelled, punching Leon even more. "Do you think you'll survive the training? Such a disappointment"

Finally, when Leon's muscles screamed in protest, and his vision blurred with exhaustion, Major Krauser called a halt.

"That's enough for today, Rookie," he said, his tone colder than ever.

Leon, battered and bruised, sank to his knees, gasping for breath. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought on this level of brutality in his training today.

As Major Krauser walked away, leaving Leon alone on the training ground, he couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked beneath the surface. But for now, all he could do was struggle to his feet and gather the strength to carry on, one step at a time.

He managed to go back to the dorm room, feeling his bones hurting. Leon spotted the bleeding from his ribs, and he wanted desperately to cry.

After everything he saw at Raccoon City, this was the only thing he wasn't expecting at all. The training was hard and painful, and it was taking a toll on him. And worse than that, he still would see you. Leon couldn't understand why you cared so much about him, but sometimes he got himself thinking you were just like him. Or what he used to be.

"Did he hurt you?" Leon heard you ask when he walked inside the room. He sighed heavily.

"It's okay, I'm fine" Leon muttered, trying to avoid you. He thought it would be for the best to keep you away from him.

Silently, in the pungent scent of antiseptic hung in the air, Leon gingerly removed his torn shirt, revealing the intricate web of cuts and bruises that adorned his battle-worn body. With a sigh, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, his breath labored.

You decided to stay silent, completely focused on your book, which was very usual.

The other roommates were friends at this point, but not you and Leon. You were a total stranger to him, and he was a blank space to you.

But, truth be told, you had been an unexpected presence in his life. A stranger at first, you had shown kindness and compassion that Leon had never experienced before. You had witnessed his struggles and the pain etched on his face, and in your own quiet way, had offered your support.

Decided to change that, you took a deep breath and walked straight to the bathroom. When you came back, Leon was still laying on his bed, his eyes closed and his breath heavier. Your gentle hands trembling slightly gathered an assortment of bandages and ointments. You knelt beside Leon, your touch soft as you began to clean and tend to his wounds. The room was filled with a hushed serenity as you worked, a comforting contrast to the relentless violence of his training.

"What are you doing?" Leon gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a surprise tone.

"Being your friend" you said to him, focused completely on his swollen ribs. "Let me take care of you, Lee"

He winced as you tended to a particularly nasty gash on his forearm, but he held back his pain, not wanting to show weakness. However, you saw through his facade. You looked up, your eyes meeting his with an understanding that ran deeper than words.

"Leon, it's okay to let it out," you whispered, your voice soothing. "You've been through so much today."

He hesitated for a moment, struggling to contain his emotions, but the weight of the day's trials was too much to bear. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he finally allowed them to escape, his shoulders shaking as the emotions he had suppressed for so long came rushing forth.

You set aside the first aid supplies and wrapped your arms around Leon, pulling him into a comforting embrace. You held him as he wept, offering solace through the storm of his pent-up feelings. In that moment, Leon realized that he didn't have to be alone in his pain and vulnerability. He had found an unexpected friend and confidant in you, and your presence was a source of strength he had never anticipated.

After twenty minutes, Leon finally calmed down. His eyes met yours again, and you felt something delicate floating inside you.

"I'm sorry" Leon muttered again, sighing.

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay" you said back, your words full of kindness and care.

"Do you... do you know anything about the incident in Raccoon City?" Leon finally asked, feeling he needed to talk about this torment.

"I've heard something about the outbreak... and the city being exploded" you said to him, already understanding what he was saying.

"I was there... it was my first day at the RPD..." Leon said, and somehow, you felt the pain in his words. "It was in there I got shot"

And then, he showed you the scar on his chest, right under the shoulder. Truth be told, you were not his friend, and you weren't exactly the best person to talk with, but Leon was alone. He had no one else besides you. But he was so broken inside that he needed to vent.

Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. The room in the training facility was the only place he felt safe enough to open up. You sat again next to his side, waiting patiently for him to open up.

"It was a nightmare" Leon began, his voice shaky. "My first day as a cop in Raccoon City… It was nothing like I expected."

You leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on Leon's knee. "Take your time, Leon. You can tell me everything."

Leon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes, and suddenly, everything about that night came back like a wave.

"I got a call one week before telling me i wasn't supposed to go, but I decided to go there anyway, ignoring the call. When I arrived, it was like something out of a horror movie. Zombies, blood, chaos everywhere." He whispered to you as he could see that night again.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes as he recounted the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Annette Birkin, a scientist working for Umbrella Corporation, shot me in the shoulder when I was trying to help a friend. She was trying to protect something, something terrible. I could see it in her eyes. She didn't care that I was just a rookie cop. She just… shot me."

Your expression softened as you listened, your grip on Leon's knee tightening in support. "That sounds terrifying, Leon. I can't even imagine what you went through."

Leon wiped away a tear and continued, "And then, I found Claire again, this girl who was looking for her brother. We tried to escape the nightmare together. But it just got worse. We found out the city was infested with those… those things."

His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, finally letting the tears flow. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him and offering comfort as he sobbed.

"I don't know if I can handle all this," Leon said, his voice muffled. "I never signed up for this. I just wanted to be a cop and make a difference."

You held him close, offering a soothing presence. "You're stronger than you think, Leon. You've already survived so much. We'll get through this together. And when it's over, you'll be the hero you want to be."

Leon continued to sob out loud. He was keeping things inside him for so long that it was almost unbearable. And then, you noticed he wasn't telling you everything. He kept more things to him than he told you.

"Leon," you said gently, "you've been through so much. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. I'm here for you."

He took a shuddering breath and looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

"I… I don't know how to explain it. The city was like a nightmare. People turning into those monsters, the stench of death everywhere. And then… then, there was the Tyrant."

Your brow furrowed as you listened intently.

"The Tyrant? What happened?"

Leon's voice trembled as he continued, "It was this hulking, unstoppable monster. It was relentless, chasing me through the police station. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was already dead."

His voice cracked, and he wiped away more tears. You sighed heavily. Of all things you imagined, this was the last thing you would think of. Gently, you decided to take his hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been, Leon. But you're here, you survived it. You're strong, and you can get through this."

Leon nodded, his voice still shaky. "I know, but the nightmares, they just won't go away. Every time I close my eyes, I see those things, and the Tyrant's face… I can't escape it"

After that night, Leon seemed more distant. You've noticed his small attempts to start a conversation, but every time he tried, he ended up being silent and avoiding you. And honestly, you couldn't understand him. You were so worried about him, feeling desperate to help, but being obligated to watch him sink in his own darkness, refusing any help or a friend.

As for his training, Major Krauser had always been a formidable presence at the academy. Tall and imposing, his glare was enough to make even the bravest cadets shudder. He had taken a particular interest in Leon, a young recruit with potential, but also an easy target for the major's relentless bullying.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, Major Krauser approached Leon, his voice laced with cruelty and a smile that would make the devil himself be scared.

"Leon," he barked, "You're a disgrace to this unit. You'll never amount to anything here."

Leon clenched his fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He knew better than to talk back to the major.

"Yes, sir," he replied through gritted teeth.

Major Krauser's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Since you seem to enjoy wasting everyone's time, you have a new mission. A punishment mission. You're to report to the obstacle course at 0500 hours tomorrow. Maybe that will teach you some discipline."

Leon's heart sank. The obstacle course was notorious for being grueling and unforgiving. He couldn't help but feel the weight of despair as he nodded and saluted Major Krauser.

The obstacle course loomed in the distance, a daunting series of barriers, walls, and challenges. Leon stood at the starting line, his confidence shaken from the relentless bullying of Major Krauser. The memory of the major's words echoed in his mind, eroding his self-esteem.

As the signal to start rang out, Leon's heart raced, but his steps were heavy. He stumbled over the first set of hurdles, scraping his knees against the coarse ground. His classmates, once his friends, now looked on with a mixture of pity and scorn.Leon tried to ignore their judgmental gazes and push forward.

The rope climb came next, and he struggled to find the strength in his trembling arms. His fingers slipped, and he fell back to the ground, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. The tire run proved equally difficult. With every leap through the hanging rubber, he felt like a clumsy child instead of a trained cadet.

A chorus of laughter erupted from behind him as his classmates breezed through the obstacle.The wall presented a nearly insurmountable challenge. Its height seemed to grow with every passing second, and Leon's past success at conquering it felt like a distant memory. He tried to summon the courage to leap, but his legs refused to obey. Each futile attempt only deepened his frustration.

Major Krauser watched from the sidelines, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He had orchestrated this punishment with the intention of breaking Leon's spirit, and it appeared to be working.

Leon finally reached the final leg of the course, the mud pit. Covered in muck and exhaustion, he struggled to pull himself out, his body feeling like dead weight. His vision blurred, and it became increasingly challenging to distinguish the course from the nightmarish haze in his mind.

As Leon approached, he couldn't help but think of Major Krauser's words: "You'll never amount to anything here." The tears welled up in his eyes, and his hands quivered.

Finally, as Leon reached the wall at the end of the course, his trembling arms gave out, and he fell to the ground, unable to complete the final obstacle. The disappointment was crushing, and the sting of failure was intensified by the distant laughter of Major Krauser, who had been watching from the sidelines.

Major Krauser approached Leon, a cruel smile on his face. "You're a disgrace, Rookie," he sneered. "I told you that you'd never amount to anything here, and you've proven me right. Incompetence at its finest."

Leon's eyes filled with tears, not just from the physical and emotional pain but from the humiliation of being berated by the very man who had tormented him from the start. The other cadets exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing.

"How pathetic! Are you gonna cry like a baby? You don't belong in here, Rookie!" Krauser shouted, humiliating him in front of everyone.

Leon's spirits were shattered, and the weight of Major Krauser's scorn felt insurmountable. As he lay there, covered in mud and feeling utterly defeated, the obstacle course had become not just a physical challenge but a harsh reminder of the relentless cruelty that he would have to endure on his path to becoming a better soldier.

The following morning, Leon returned to the dorm room, covered in mud, sweat, and exhaustion. He stumbled through the door and collapsed on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. The events of the punishing mission had taken a toll on him.

As you were studying at the desk, as soon as Leon walked inside the room, you immediately noticed his distress. You rushed to his side, concern etched on your face.

"Leon, what happened?" You asked gently.

Leon's voice quivered as he recounted the humiliation and the physical strain of the punishment mission. "I can't take it anymore," he admitted, his pride shattered.

You sat beside him, offering a comforting embrace.

"I know his an asshole... and he's cruel... but I'm here with you" you whispered, wiping away a tear from his cheek. "I'm here"

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

"You gave it your all, and that's what matters. Don't let Major Krauser's words get to you." You finally said something after minutes in silence.

Leon tried to force a weak smile, but the tears still welled up in his eyes.

"It's just... It's hard. He makes me feel so small, and I don't know how much more of this I can take." Leon vents with you, feeling exhausted after the course.

Your voice was filled with compassion as you offered a reassuring hug. But then, you noticed something different. You already knew Leon had scars, but this was new.

"But what happened to your eye?" You glanced at him, your concern deepening.

Leon hesitated, not wanting to draw more attention to his ordeal.

"I... I must have hit it during one of the obstacles," he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

You gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. When you saw the deep purple bruise forming around his eye, your eyes filled with anger.

"Leon, this isn't from an obstacle. Someone hurt you." You couldn't hide your frustration as you realized the truth.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. He had kept the incident with Major Krauser a secret for too long, and now, someone who cared was finally noticing.

"It was Major Krauser," he admitted in a hushed voice. "He hit me after I couldn't finish the course."

"That asshole, son of a..." you muttered with every ugly word you knew. "We can't let things end like this"

"It's okay, you don't need to pick up a fight for me" Leon smiled again, his eyes still shining with tears. "Soon we'll end this training and then... I won't see him again"

"Are you sure about that, Leon?" You asked him, with visible concern and worry on your voice.

"Yes, I'm sure" he nodded, confident.

Leon was the type of guy with a hero complex. He thought he could fix everything — not noticing that sometimes, there were things beyond fixing. Each day, he returned to the dorm room full of purple marks and exhausted. Each day, you were there for him, like a true friend. You took care of his wounds and showed him support and reassurance.

Most importantly, you were there.

Leon doesn't talk about Raccoon City. Every time he tries, he shuts himself completely and cries. He avoided this topic for months because he felt he wasn't ready to share the rest of it. He wanted, but he couldn't.

You've decided not to ask more things about his life. He needed time to process everything, and the training, although cruel and painful, made him forget for a while.

But the nights were the worst.

He had nightmares, and sometimes, he would wake up screaming. Leon refused to talk about his nightmares, always thinking he shouldn't bother you with such silly things. Little did he know that you cared — a lot.

It was almost two in the morning. Leon awoke with a start, the lingering terror of his dream still clutching at his heart. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to discern the line between reality and the haunting images of Raccoon City.

The room was almost filled by a pale moonbeam that sliced through a gap in the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Breathing heavily, he tried to shake off the horrors that still clung to his mind. He couldn't go back to sleep; the nightmares always returned with a vengeance.

A soft rustle from the bed beside him caught his attention. Leon turned his head to see you, your eyes filled with concern.

"Leon, are you okay?" You spoke in a hushed, soothing tone.

He sighed, his voice trembling. "Just a nightmare, but it felt so real."

You scooted closer, your fingers reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Tell me about it. It might help."

Leon hesitated for a moment. But after so many months of silence, he gave up. He took a deep breath, then started to recount the horrors of his dream, the monsters, the chaos, and the relentless pursuit of survival. As he spoke, your presence provided comfort, grounding him in the real world.

When he had finished, you offered a reassuring smile. "You're safe now, Leon. Raccoon City is gone, and we're here together."

He gazed into your eyes, finding solace in the warmth and kindness he saw there. Your hand slid into his, fingers entwining as you two lay side by side.

"Thank you," he whispered, his heart slowing its panicked rhythm.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, reassuring kiss in his forehead. As they pulled away, you murmured, "Now, try to get some rest. I'll be right here if you need me."

Leon nodded, closing his eyes, and as the remnants of his nightmare faded, he realized that the presence of you he was starting to like the help he needed to heal.

The training finally ended.

Now, you were officially a government agent, ready to serve.

After six months of pure stress, you finally ended your training. The ceremony was exactly like you imagined. But, for some reason, you weren't that happy. It was like you were missing something — or someone.

You found him after the celebration party. And he was so beautiful.

"Congrats, Agent Kennedy" You smiled at him, shaking his hands.

"Congrats to you too" he blushed a little. "I guess... I never properly thanked you... for everything"

"You don't need to thank me. You needed a friend" you said, your face blushing as well.

"Can I at least take you on a date or something?" Leon asked, and then he avoided your eyes. He was tense.

"Yes" you nodded, feeling your heart skip several beats.

And then, to your surprise, Leon kissed you. Right there, in front of everyone else. He didn't care about Krauser, the bullying, and the punishment he went through. When his lips met yours, he felt he was doing the right thing.

You both knew that you wouldn't see each other soon.

He needed to enjoy that moment. He needed you, at least one time.

You've seen his scars. You were there for him. You were exactly what he needed.

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

❥8 degrees (m)

↳ hyunjin loves so many things about you, and your willingness to placate his adventurous streak is certainly one of them.

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content [2,3k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), hyunjin has a big dick, exhibitionism, dirty talk/praise, soft & they are in love.

Hyunjin liked having you in places he had no business taking you.

You always knew it was kind of his thing. It started as a quickie at home knowing the guys were coming home within the hour, and as time went on, Hyunjin kept cutting it closer and closer to their projected arrival time until eventually they did come home during a romp in the sheets together. The two of you weren't walked in on and no one was none the wiser - but you suspect that scenario changed Hyunjin in some way. Sometimes kinks have a funny way of unmasking themselves, even if by accident.

Then it was the dance studio one late Thursday night that he was practicing by himself. You brought take out and some small iced coffees knowing he was intending on making it a long night but you apparently didn't have any concept of exactly how long. The thought comes and goes quickly while he has the front of you pressed against the cabinet; clammy, sweaty fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

And there was also the time in the van - the van you have no business ever being in for any reason at all but a text from Hyunjin asking you to come help him bring some things in turns into legs dangling off of his marginally toned arms, teeth grinning into the skin on your neck.

So now, when you're asked to accompany Hyunjin anywhere, in the back of your mind you know what to expect.

"Oh good, you're right on time," Hyunjin says, darting up from his chair and getting the door from behind you as you carefully set all of the numerous items in your arms onto any available table space. "You should have called me to come down" he adds, watching you struggle with your hands full.

"Nah it's fine, I had it," you answer, shaking blood flow back into your appendages and looking up at him, "so how's it going?"

"Good, fine...I mean, it's going."

"So not particularly good or fine then."

"Yeah, not really."

He'd been working on something of his own for a few months now, and spent many a late night in the studio alone on top of all of the other responsibilities he had. In the beginning, he allowed you to accompany him, but as time went on and his inability to finish his project became stifling, the excuses for why you shouldn't come became more and more common, and less and less truthful. It was shame, and you knew that - you just didn't know how to fix it.

You leapt at the chance, when he finally invited you back.

Hyunjin sits back down in the chair, surprisingly large and spacious for just being a rolling desk chair - but suppose that is the luxury life of a successful entertainment company. You watch the way he stares daggers into the screen in front of him, a display of colorful lines and numbers and gadgets everywhere that you were sure you were never going to understand the intricacies of. Watch the way his eyes dart around as if trying to read actual words on a page but in an entirely differently language he was unfamiliar with. His arms cross. He looks sexy, and you feel a little bad for thinking that because you know he's struggling in the present moment but you can't help it.

"You should eat, babe."

As if your words break him from a trance, he seemingly snaps back to present day - raising an eyebrow toward you and rolling himself over to where you sit on the couch off to the side of him.

"I'm not too hungry, I’ll eat later."

"Hyunjin…" It's more of a disappointed, sort of accusatory tone than you meant, because you know he doesn't need the guilt of upsetting you on top of everything else. "Please, make sure you take time to eat tonight."

"I will, I promise," he responds, slightly pouting towards you and setting his chin down into his palm. "Come here, I missed you."

You set your styrofoam take out box to the side, carefully wiping your mouth with a napkin before making your way over to him. Hyunjin pulls you into his lap - legs to the side and wraps both arms around you and yours, squeezing you tightly before dipping one of his hands down to the hem of your dress. "It's 8 degrees outside tonight," he says questioningly, with lips pressed into your shoulder, and fingers slipping under the aforementioned hem to toy with the smooth skin there under.

You kind of knew that the recording studio was on the proverbial list. You came prepared after too many evenings of fumbling with tight skinny jeans under time constraints.

"Turn around."

Hyunjin's voice has already dropped when he whispers the words into you, huskier and more serious than he had been the moments before when he was teasing you about the temperature outside - allowing you to stand for just a moment before seating yourself back onto his lap with a leg dangling on either side of his now and arms circled around his shoulders. He doesn't waste time pulling you into him, pressing plush, pink lips into yours a bit harder than you expected for how early into the evenings activities you thought you were - but it appears that Hyunjin had every intention of hurrying things along - carefully gnawing at your bottom lip as his hands make their way to your behind, pulling the fabric of your dress up and away only to make another discovery that actually takes him so far back he physically pulls himself from you to look at you.

"No panties?"

It's almost a gasp, you like that look on him. You'll have to elicit that again somehow.

But you simply smile and pull him into you again, to which he happily - and much more hungrily this time - obliges. Hyunjin firmly plants his palms onto your ass again, this time digging blunt fingernails in to pull you closer against him and you can feel that his erection is already pressing into the confines of his sweat pants - and now your exposed core. Your lips part from his and exhale a breathy moan into his and he takes a moment to simply watch the way you fall for him all over again - his eyes darting all across your face just as they had been on the screen only minutes prior but this time he's taking you in - all of your best attributes and expressions and sounds.

You know this is his element, and you know he can't hold out too long.

"Stand up," he whispers, lightly nudging you to stand up off his lap but only long enough and with enough space for him to slide his pants down to his thighs and expose himself - pulling you back down quickly by the waist. He watches as you hover over him, the fabric of your dress bunched up in your fists to each side of your hips as if doing the lewdest curtsey before descending down onto his length.

Hyunjin doesn't pull you down into a seated position - he knows better. He's very aware of how big his cock is - length in particular - being an issue on occasion, and the lack of foreplay this evening not helping matters. He simply holds you by the waist, in place, until you take it upon yourself to move.

Feeling full was an understatement. You enjoyed watching his face as you excruciatingly slowly made your way down his shaft, centimeter by centimeter sinking onto him knowing he desperately wants you to take every inch right then and there but also reveling in knowing that you can't - that most people can't. It turned both of you on knowing how big he was.

"Please move." Is the first thing out of his mouth, and you're not fully in a seated position yet for all of the previously mentioned reasons, but you pull off of him slightly so that you can press back down him - despite the fact that the weight and motion on your thighs burns only a few movements in - it's worth it to watch the way Hyunjin comes undone beneath you, fingers digging into your skin again and now actually trying to pull you further down onto his cock - because he feels like he's going crazy. Because he feels an inhuman desire to be bottomed out in you in that moment. "Can you take it?" he whispers into your mouth, wrapping lithe arms around your body to slowly pull you the rest of the way onto his length, and you brace yourself for what might be evening-ending pain if you're not ready for it yet. He watches every movement your face makes as he does so - carefully holding you in place and taking you in as he seats you flush onto his lap - finally able to bottom out inside of you - and it's a sigh of relief for both of you instead of a disastrous yelp and end to the fun of the night (which isn't foreign to either of you, either.)

"See baby? You can take me," Hyunjin groans into your collarbone, ever so slightly angling his hips up and pressing even further into you than what flush on his lap grants. It hurts - slightly. It hurts in the same way that feels intriguingly good - teetering on the edge of excruciating. He pulls out only a few centimeters before pushing back up and into you - a slow and hard grind again - using the strength and leverage he has on your body to pull you onto him as much as he can. He whispers into your skin again, "you take me so well, you're taking it all," and it's the way that his voice sounds when he's so desperate for your body and the release you'll grant him that causes your walls to clench around him. And he notices. Taking the opportunity to pull you down with more of his strength again.

At no point is he necessarily fucking you - at least, not in the typical sense that someone would expect when hearing the phrase. Hyunjin is testing you. Hyunjin is seeing how much of him you can take and how far he can go before you have to tap out. It's definitely a power move - an ego thing, but you're happy to oblige because having him inside of you like this is absolutely heavenly.

It's almost involuntary, the way your hands press down and against his thighs in an attempt to create distance between the head of his cock and your cervix, but the pressure he applies to your insides makes you relentlessly milk his length even with little movement, and he feels every throb of your needy cunt - kissing and smiling into your neck and chest as he continues to ever so carefully pull your tiny body onto all of the inches that under normal circumstances you may never expect to be able to take into your body - but the way your pussy aches for him to move, sopping wet around him despite barely any actual stimulation to you tells the both of you that Hyunjin must be a perfect fit after all.

"Hy-Hyun-" you finally manage to whimper out, trying to get leverage to grind into his lap or against something that will give you actual friction despite the fact that he has you firmly wrapped into his arms, and he realizes immediately.

"I know baby," he answers, dropping his arms from you and allowing his hands to rest gently onto your hips in the event that he'll need to help. You quickly begin moving - and it's a slow pace at first but not for long at all - the previous stimulation surprisingly doing a number on your desperate need to cum. You grind into his lap hard, quick, pretty fingernails clawing into his shoulders in an attempt to receive the leverage you need to get yourself there and Hyunjin simply watches in awe - bottom lip pulled between his teeth and the occasional moan escaping from him. You moan his name again - sort of - as much of it as you can get out and he snaps to attention, pulling himself forward with chest against your own, hands now pulling your hips harder into his lap than before in an attempt to help get you there.

"H-hand, fuck," is all you can get out before you drop your head back but it's all the direction he needs, bringing his dominant hand around to the front of you and pressing sloppy, aggressive circles into your clit - desperate to watch you cum and much to both of your surprise it doesn't take long - much less time than usual - before he hisses a cuss as he feels your cunt vice grip his cock as you cum into his lap, desperately trying not to cry out but failing in somewhat spectacular fashion. You'd have thought that you would be better at fucking in public spaces by now but turns out you might only be getting worse at it. Hyunjin snaps you back from the noise concern, taking your hips into his hands with a rigid grip of his own and fucking you hard through your orgasm while also chasing his own and it doesn't take him much either - "fuck, fuck, I'm-" but the words are choked back from ever leaving his lips, one of his arms coming up your back and gripping onto your shoulder from behind to give him the leverage he really wants to fuck his cum into you the way he desires to, and you feel every stroke and throb as he releases deep - once again pulling you down to take absolutely every bit of him that you can into yourself.

It's a few moments of heaving chests and heavy breaths before Hyunjin finally lets go of you and allows you to create any sort of space between the two bodies, half-lidded, completely fucked out eyes eventually finding your own, and he only smiles before leaning forward and resting his head lazily on your chest.

"I'll eat now."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2. i think this is one of the first things i ever wrote nearly three years ago lol

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kalims · 9 months

Text

ㅤamongst other things

premise. kisses w/ them, and random things?

featuring. dan heng, blade, jing yuan.

content. gender neutral.

cw. mentions of blood, murder for blade lol. he's just down bad for reader in a weird, blade way ig

note. this is ironic since my first genshin post was also about kisses (AKA me getting bored so I wondered why not get into star rail)

will add others soon ig.. I didn't compile all of them here cuz I honestly lack the characterization for them so woop

dan heng

short, abrupt kisses that rarely ever come by goes as quickly as it came. you'd assume that he's doing it on purpose, giving you the kiss that you've been waiting for all day. it shouldn't even be considered a kiss at all from how fleeting his apparent 'peck' is.

in short it's torture.

keyword: assume. cause as convinced as you are that this is just some form of twisted amusement dan heng gains, that's exactly the problem that it entails. as a person wholly, he's so serious to the point you doubt there's nothing that would entertain him besides books.

you learn he isn't much of a fan of those really long kisses, once you both bore witness to a couple eating each other's face in broad daylight and you spotted his weekly shift of expression, a quirk of few centimeters. in this case, a grimace and he looks away.

he, does not really give kisses a lot. as upset as you are, you do agree that when he does give you a kiss, albeit short. it makes it all the more.. amazing? such a mediocre word wouldn't be able to describe it.

basically when you're both left trying to fit in his small cushion (he could've atleast gotten a bed in all this space.) you also learn that he's a really private man.

you've only ever shared kisses in his room, embraces, everything else for that matter. when the door is locked he quite literally melts into you. if you happen to be sitting together he just leans on to you.

dan heng in public: 😶

dan heng in private: 😊

just doesn't show any affection in public, especially if march is around. that girl would make fun of him for hours end and even drag the trailblazer in on her antics of poking fun.

dan heng is indeed a private man.

march isn't the only factor as to why there hasn't been a lot of kisses out in public. if anything he probably wants to kiss you more than you would like.

he'd be lying if he said he wanted to just kiss you as long as those weird main characters of the romance shows march watches cause even though you might want that as well, dan heng won't ever do it.

cause it isn't him, what he is. is the type to get kisses done as soon as he can not because he doesn't enjoy them. it's because he can take a good look at you once he leans back, just like he does any other day.

to admire you.

and cause dan heng isn't the romantic type to kiss you senseless, but the one to give you looks you'd die for.

blade

if dan heng only gives you kisses a few times a day and you'd consider it torture, better get ready to lose your sanity cause you're lucky if blade even crumples at your hand to give you one.

it's not that he doesn't love you. he feels as though it's wrong to label whatever emotion in his chest as something as strong as love, he won't go that far. but he won't label you as something worthy of hatred either, you're.. tolerable?

if anything blade doesn't outright seek to give you his affection through the form of a kiss. his love language is in fact, not physical affection but destroying your enemies :). (if you have one, if not. then whoever bothers you will suffice.)

but if he does, when he does it's the most blade thing he can do. just grabbing your face with one hand as he gives you one of those rough, deep kisses. it's not really desperate or out of need, despite such a wordless action you could feel some emotion he's pouring into it.

better pray it's not hate cause.. 💀

funny thing cause as much as he hates being piled in the same sentence as dan heng, in a way they're rather similar. both just preferring to witness, given their life span.. maybe it's some type of response they're used to.

blade doesn't really do the 'oh I love you' or the random hugs. the fact that he'd even stand so close to you instead of isolating himself and looking all mysterious leaning on a pillar already spoke volumes of his fondness (if not admitted.)

he just.. watches you?

silver wolf comments about it when she's caught his eyes on you many times midst a conversation, behind your back, staring. "better watch out." she says, but even with her disturbed gaze never does he tear his eyes away.

well.

kafka does take it in more stride than her. as someone who's spent a hefty time with blade, even someone as analytical as her can't tell which things he likes, and hates. besides all the blood and pain (well usually for his opponents.)

she for one, tells you that he does indeed like you. cause she can control who blade murders 'for her own good'. but if there's even a single glimpse of drop from a wound he's going feral, and not even kafka or her spirit whisper can tame his rage.

AKA... just lots of murder?

'for your own good :)'.

blade wholly believes that he doesn't need to shower you in affection, or kisses at all. but if you're really so insistent on them he'll give into you, which is surprising cause he's a pretty stubborn man.

most affection you'd get in physical means is when he completely collapses into you, perhaps a sign of weakness. but also trust. one of the rare times he's exhausted himself in his mind to the point where he can't even do anything.

#icanfixhim.

jing yuan

a cheeky man, this one.

jing yuan could give you a load, barriage, arrows, whatever describes the endless assault of pecks he attacks your face with. emphasis on 'could', he has the ability, and the freedom but it doesn't mean he's going to :)

in short you have to work for it, he says.

you can't tell if he's trying to give you one of those motivational, slapping you back to reality lessons or messing with you. you're going to go for the latter since someone as bold as he is lazy.. even jing yuan would relate enough to not hit you with the lesson card.

in a way he's always dragging the time you've gone by without a kiss from him as long as he can just for the sole reason he can see your attempts to conceal your bothered face, even better when the expression of content is all but displayed to him once he gives in.

what? he can't resist you, you know?

you have a feeling he's teasing you again when he says that but it's better to not ponder upon it.

for someone who prefers to 'conserve' his energy. he's got a lot to spare when it comes to the repeated kisses pressed upon your lips, cheeks, eyelids, forehead.. whatever his own mouth can reach. (his favorite is the edges of your eyes..)

just for some reason, one he can't exactly name he ends up giving that particular area more love compared to the others. sometimes more lighter, feathery pecks when he's feeling playful. or the occasional longer, deep press of his lips when he's feeling rather sentimental about his feelings.

he doesn't deserve you.. but if not him, who else? ;)

gets mimi to help him into trapping you inside his office, jing yuan 'calls for your presence' but once you're inside rather than the pressing matters he apparently had to discuss with you (present in his message.) you're met with the man practically snuggling into you as he keeps you in his arms.

rather effortlessly if you might add!

and if you somehow managed to wriggle out his grip. you swore you saw him give the... big... cat a look and suddenly mimi is choosing to sleep right in front of the doors..

come back or you will not get kisses for two days (he's scamming u)

note. NOT PR... hi hsr fandom 🕳 posting in a new fandom makes me so nerviosity

#. . . (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #blade x reader #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x reader #star rail x reader #dan heng #blade #jing yuan #x gn reader

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rashomonss · 3 months

Note

hello! could i please request mirror sex w/ satan and gn reader for your valentine’s day event? ty!

hello hello! and ofc you can haha（*’∀’人）

ahh this was so much fun to write, i love satan sm i swear! anyways I hope you enjoy!! ♡

if anyone would like to request a prompt for my valentine’s day event then it can be done here!

warnings: NSFW read at your own discretion / gender neutral

i love watching you take me…

“Oh? When did this get here? Did you just recently buy it?” You asked as you stepped into the Avatar of Wrath’s room.

A new full length mirror rested in a small space between his bookshelves and in front of his bed, but you couldn’t help but become curious since it wasn’t there a few days ago.

“Asmo gave it to me the other day, apparently it was because I helped him with something awhile back but I just haven’t found a place where I feel like it’ll look good” Satan explained as he looked at the mirror as well.

You plopped down on his bed and smiled. “I think it looks good here, besides you should decorate your room with things other than books”

“I have things you gave me, that should suffice” Satan huffed, as he took a seat on the other side of his bed.

“That doesn’t count,” you replied.

“Says who?”

“Says me” you said, and a moment later Satan reached over to grab you.

You both play fought and rolled around on his bed for a few minutes until he eventually had you pinned down. Within seconds the playful banter turned into a heated makeout session.

Hands traveled up and down your body as you held him close. When you and Satan finally pulled apart for air he moved to leave a few kisses and hickeys on your neck. He always loved it when his brothers would get mad at him for leaving hickeys on you.

Satan continued to travel down your body, discarding your clothes along the way, and left marks and bites in any way he could. When he made his way back up to your nipples he decided to tease them for a while, causing a few moans to escape on your end. As you squirmed under him the mirror suddenly caught his eye, and he immediately had a lovely idea.

He wasted no time in repositioning you to sit on the front of the bed facing the mirror. When you went to question him he placed a hand over your mouth and just whispered to just watch as he admired your body.

You looked into the mirror and watched as his hands made their way back to your nipples and then pinched them in between his fingers. The way your body reacted to his touch was enough to turn you on even more so than you already were.

The way Satan looked at you had you rubbing your thighs together as lust soon filled your eyes. He saw it too of course, and it was obvious with his cock continuously poking your back as he still kept his pants on.

“I want you” you said softly, earning a surprised smile from him.

Satan soon discarded his own clothes and placed his hands on your hips and then slowly let them make their way to your thighs. His touch was longing but it was just as desperate as yours, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Soon Satan spread apart your thighs and let his fingers graze your entrance before sticking two in you. A moan left your lips as his fingers suddenly stretched you out and prepared you to take him.

As your gaze shifted to the ceiling, he shifted to watching you in the mirror. Satan watched intensely as his fingers moved in and out of you, however he also loved watching the way your body reacted just from his fingers alone.

“I love how your body reacts to me” Satan said softly as he entered a third finger.

After teasting you with his fingers for a bit too much Satan finally pulled them out and then you felt his tip soon at your entrance.

“You ready?” He asked, holding your gaze in the mirror.

A quiet nod was your response, sure you would’ve responded with something else any other time, but your eyes were too focused on the way his tip rubbed against your entrance in the mirror.

You watched as he slowly entered you and immediately you tightened around him because of the sight.

Satan groaned as your hole swallowed his cock, he then set the tempo at a few slow and deep thrusts. Most of the time he loved to tease you, and today was no exception. He loved watching your face become more needy with each passing moment as he slowly went in and out of you.

You on the other hand felt as if you were going crazy. You wanted him to pound into you so badly but he drug out every single thrust, making sure to hit deep every time as well, it was enough to make you squirm and beg for more.

“Look at you, taking me in so well” Satan purred in your ear.

Another deep thrust came after his praise and you cried out in ecstasy as he continued with his deep and slow pace. Satan smirked as he watched his cock slowly disappear inside you, it made it even better when your eyes rolled back each time he thrusted himself deeper.

“Watch yourself take my cock” Satan said softly as he grabbed your chin with his hand and held it up so you could see yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes trailed down your body adorned with hickeys and bite marks from earlier, and when they finally made it down there, the sight alone made you gasp and tighten around him. Satan made sure to slowly pull out as you watched the pre cum from his cock leave a slick trail behind, only somehow turning you on more.

Unlike the previous times though he then roughly thrusted up into you causing a sudden moan to escape as he held you in place. The fast pace from a moment ago continued and Satan made sure to hit your favorite spot each time he entered you.

Ah, he loved this sight, you bouncing up and down on his cock with lust filled eyes and a fucked out brain. The Avatar of Wrath held your chin up and continued to make you watch as he pounded into you with each passing second. The room was filled with lewd sounds and loud moans but he didn’t care, he wanted his brothers to know just how much you loved seeing yourself get fucked by his cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful you know that?” He mumbled out, before then biting your shoulder, making you shudder in response.

Your pretty little hole tightened around him with each thrust as you got closer. Nothing but a few mumbles of his name and other curses left your lips as Satan guided your hips up and down on his cock. He knew you were getting close and he was as well.

“Let me see you cum on my cock, can you do that for me MC?” Satan said as he held your gaze in the mirror.

A muffled yes left your lips along with a fast nod of your head as well. Satan smiled and picked up the pace just enough for you, and finally after a few moments the built up feeling in your core snapped and you reached your climax.

Your body arched into his as your hips buckled onto his cock, allowing him to ride out his own orgasm as he thrusted into you for a few moments after.

Soft breaths left your lips as you came down from your high. After a moment Satan slowly pulled out of you as you watched in the mirror, soon a small amount of cum slowly started pooling out of your hole as he smirked.

“Ready for round two?”

#rashomonss red hour #rashomonss sweet valentines treat #rashomonss asks #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #omswd satan

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violetrainbow412-blog · 7 months

Text

Day 6: playing with hair

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“I brought more popcorn,” you announced happily, offering Spencer the full bowl and watching him clap silently.

The entire team had received Rossi's invitation to watch a movie at his house, under the excuse that in recent weeks you had not gone anywhere outside of work hours to spend time together as friends and not as co-workers.

Spencer was currently sitting on the floor, claiming that he really enjoyed sitting there instead of on the couches, with his back leaning on the space you had made between your legs and his gaze intent on the suspense movie that the host had chosen.

At some point in the middle of the darkness of the room your hand went down to reach the tip of a strand in his long loose hair and began to play with it carelessly, almost as if it were a reflex action. Spencer was used to you doing that all the time so it didn't take him by surprise, but at some point the movie stopped being interesting enough for you to pay attention and you decided to start running your hands consciously through his hair. When you massaged him you heard him sigh from time to time and you continued like that until with the help of your fingers you began to get rid of the knots he had and only a silky cascade of brown with golden touches remained.

“Hey,” you whispered, leaning down to speak right in his ear.

"Yeah?"

“Let me braid your hair?”

“Whatever you want, pretty,” he replied quietly. The man leaned to the side to plant a distracted kiss on your knee as if to make you aware that he had heard you, but also to show you that he was too interested in the plot of the film for a more enthusiastic response.

You did a few small french braids on the top of his head and a few more scattered throughout the loose section below, taking your time to get them perfect. From time to time he would raise his hand to put popcorn in your mouth, knowing that you were very committed to your work, and you didn't even realize that it had been long enough for the movie to end until the credits rolled and JJ turned on the lights in the living room.

“Well, that was an ending I wasn't expecting,” Emily exhaled, apparently satisfied with the film choice David had made.

"You liked the movie?" he asked suddenly, turning towards you for the first time and allowing you to admire your masterpiece. He looked totally pretty, in a feminine way that only a man like him could pull off.

“I got distracted halfway with you, if I'm honest.”

“We can see it getting home if you want, I want to test a theory about continuity errors” he suggested to you happily. Few commercial movies caught your boyfriend's attention and you thought that if he had enjoyed it you probably would too, although now from the comfort of your home.

“What's on your head, Reid?” Morgan smiled, looking at his friend and causing the rest to do the same. Spencer still didn't seem aware of what you had done until you lent him your phone screen for him to use as a mirror and then he could see what you had been focusing on for the last half hour.

"You like them?"

“I don't know, do you think I look good?” he asked genuinely. You loved that part of your boyfriend, the one that didn't let himself be carried away by prejudices and he only enjoyed things that could make him happy or, in the same way, make you happy.

You smiled and leaned down enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips, followed by at least three more spread across his cheeks and one on the tip of his nose that tickled him.

"I love them. I love you”

“Oh, come on, get a room!” Prentiss squealed as he threw a cushion at you and made a face of displeasure at your little romantic moment.

“How did you get him to let you do his hair? He never left me”

“I guess they're girlfriend benefits, Garcia,” you joked, while he pulled your hand to his mouth to leave a delicate kiss on your knuckles “Besides, he was too preoccupied with finding out who the murderer was to notice"

“That’s not true, I knew you were combing my hair. I only left you because it relaxes me a lot that you play with it” he confessed, looking at you out of the corner of his eye even from his position on the floor.

Spencer wanted to get that admiring look from you just a little longer and upon arriving at your shared apartment he slept with his hair combed, until the next morning he was greatly surprised when he realized that the locks you had braided were now curly. You took out some old tubes that your mother had given you, but they were now almost obsolete, and you explained to him that they fulfilled the same function, promising that if a case didn’t arise that same night, you would put them on so that he could see the results himself.

Seeing the experienced and brilliant doctor you had as a boyfriend full of blue tubes in his head was something you never thought you would witness, but the excited smile on his face at the new hairstyle was payment enough for your loving heart.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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noroi1000 · 5 months

Text

F**k your fav 13 - You, and your boyfriend's friend

F**k your fav | ←Previous • Next→

Summary: It finally happened. After watching your boyfriend have sex with his best friend, it was your turn. You started kissing Suguru, then you started undressing. Your boyfriend was watching all this. What was about to happen was obvious... You're going to have sex with Suguru...

A/N: I wrote the last three chapters one after the other, so they may seem short. Just like I ended the previous chapter with the start of sex between Satoru and Suguru, here I went further and ended the smut scene.

Warnings: Geto x reader smut (oral - m!receiving and f!receiving; vaginal sex; cum on body) watching someone having sex; masturbation.

"Suguru, Follow my advice, and she will melt beneath you."

"Same as you?" the dark-haired man laughed, styling his hair.

"I don't have a pussy!"

"But you were moaning. So..."

"You're asking me to hit you!"

"Fine fine! So what are your tips?"

The white-haired man sighed, sitting up straighter on the couch. They had to hurry. After all, they heard you splashing in the bathtub. You could leave soon.

"Well, you already have a big cock, so you don't have to worry about most of it." he said, thinking for a moment. "Eat her pussy and she will be more sensitive. Almost every time after I ate her, she squirted all over my cock. Besides, let her give you a blowjob, and she'll be so wet that even a concrete dam wouldn't keep the river out of her pussy."

"I hate how you talk about the most perverted things calmly, comparing them to things that no one finds arousing..."

"And?"

You were visibly nervous as you sat between his legs on the bed as he lay down, giving you plenty of space between his knees.

Your fingers finally played with the waistband of his boxers as you very gently kissed his cock through the material. You were shy, that was obvious. You finally have a boyfriend, and now you have to fuck someone else. Plus, your boyfriend is sitting in the corner of the room with his dick out.

He wanted to somehow encourage you not to be afraid. After all, it won't be as pleasant as it can be when you're so nervous.

He leaned on his hands to look at you properly.

Satoru was forbidden to speak. If he said something that would embarrass you, it would be bad. So all he could do was sit there and jerk off while watching someone else fuck his girlfriend.

Sure, it turned him on. But he was also a little jealous now that you were lying between another guy's legs, grabbing his cock. All this time, you were only catching his! He wanted you to fuck Suguru. He wanted to see if you felt as comfortable with him as you did with Suguru. He was a bit selfish, thinking that he should be the one lying there now and not Suguru. But he also wanted you to discover new lands. This will be absolutely new for you. And he wanted you to feel as good as you could. Besides, he found out that if you weren't his girlfriend, you would probably fall in love with Suguru. That's why there was nothing so bad about it...

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid. There's nothing wrong with that." He said it with a small smile, waving to you. Looking at your small blush.

That was the only sentence now. And it was very normal. He wanted to convince you to move forward.

You nodded, looking into Suguru's eyes, before swallowing, and with a little help from him, you pulled his boxers down, removing fabric from him.

Up close, Suguru was bigger than it seemed before. So what Satoru had inside him was a really good piece of cock... No wonder even your boyfriend, who had so much stamina during sex, trembled under his thrusts. So even he is sensitive when you approach him properly?

Maybe you should use your dildo on him more often?

But when he was with Suguru, he apparently felt different. This shows that they feel good together. So maybe you should let them fuck you more often? After all, what's going on between them goes back even before your relationship with Satoru.

Maybe when you two are comfortable now, you can give Satoru some more sex with Suguru in the future?

Although you weren't sure if you should consider it normal.

You wrapped your hand around the thick shaft, massaging the hot skin to tentatively place a chaste kiss on his head, licking up some of the precum.

You're not sure what exactly Suguru likes. Satoru sure liked watching you choke on his cock. But from what you could see, Satoru was a little slower when he was in your position. While Satoru received strong, sudden sensations, Suguru received strong but slow sensations. Maybe it's something of his preference? But you also saw him fucking Satoru hard. And it certainly wasn't calm and gentle.

It was powerful and intense.

Satoru always fucked you hard. Quick. All at once. He changes styles to annoy you. But you're sure his favorite was strong. Abuse all the sensitive points in you.

To find out, all you could do was do what you had to do. You lay there and sucked and kissed Suguru's cock, sometimes lowering yourself to lick a stripe from his base to the tip.

Everything about it was right. Both Satoru and him like it.

When you lick like a kitten. Those were Satoru's words.

You wanted to take another hint of what he likes best. But his hand suddenly grabbed your chin, pulling you away from his length.

He pulled your face away to look at him. And in this position, you really felt how he radiated the energy of dominance over you.

"Lie on your back, okay?" He said it with a small smile, sitting up straight and pulling your wrists to make you obey him.

Sitting almost breathless on the bed, you watched as the dark-haired man placed himself under your hips, suddenly opening your legs.

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled you down slightly, signaling you to go a little lower. You obediently did so, slightly resisting his hands as they spread your thighs open for him.

Suguru was the type who expected obedience. He tells you to do something, so he expects you to do it. While Satoru doesn't wait for obedience, he just keeps going. With Suguru, you feel more pressure than he causes. It turns you on. He dominates you so much. As soon as he says something, you're ready to do it. This is what sets them apart. Satoru is not patient. He may do something unexpectedly and suddenly. He can come up with something, set you up, and move you himself. And Suguru tells you calmly but firmly what he wants from you. And this is a sign that he dominates you and wants to do it all the time. Suguru told you how to position yourself as an order.

You looked to the side at Satoru, whose hand was slowly sliding down his length as he looked at your friend between your legs.

A mouth appeared on your clit, giving you a kind of command. You were supposed to focus on him.

Satoru was right. You were wet as hell. Even though you acted shy, you were so horny for him.

Every time Satoru eats your pussy, you squirt all over his cock? We'll find out soon.

Two fingers press into your wet heat, finding a spot to massage your g-spot.

Apparently it's hard to find, and this is the second man who found it in you the first time and will abuse this place!

Soft moans escaped your lips as you tugged on his bangs lightly as he played with your nub with his tongue and rubbed your sensitive spot with his fingers.

Another difference between Satoru and Suguru.

Satoru would like to make you orgasm and give you the most intense sensations. Suguru slowly and carefully pushes on, doing something to make you a little disappointed, but in the end you get the most intense orgasm.

You feel equally good with both of them. But their technique is different.

You moaned loudly as his fingers unexpectedly dug into your walls, pressing hard against that spot and sucking harshly. Forcing you to orgasm suddenly. And your body complied, sending sparks up your spine as you trembled against his lips and fingers.

By this time, Satoru would probably be smiling and starting to lick up your juices. Suguru didn't pull away from your pussy, lightly flicking his tongue against your clit as he slowly fingered you, letting you come down from your high faster.

The sooner you come to your senses after your orgasm, the sooner he will be able to load you up with his cock.

Only when you stopped shaking did he pull his fingers out of you, letting you rest for less than a minute before he knelt between your thighs, stroking your swollen cock with his hand.

You saw out of the corner of your eye as Satoru moved his chair to get a better view of your pussy, which was about to be loaded with cock. But he didn't speak.

"Are you ready?" Geto asked, lightly rubbing your entrance with his tip.

"... Mhm..." you muttered, looking a little horrified at its width. It was the same when you were to take Satoru inside for the first time.

But since you can do everything with Satoru, there won't be any problems with a dick like that, right?

"Without a condom? So brave." Satoru laughed. "Cum on her, okay? I want to see it."

Satoru's words, although perverted, were fine. You could bear it.

But it was different when you felt the wide tip pressing against the ring of muscle, stretching you to fit inside you.

You're really doing it...

You can take it. It will fit inside. You can take Satoru, so Suguru won't be a problem either. It just seems that they are so big! They are just very tall! And you seem smaller next to them! But it doesn't change the fact that their dicks are also big!!!

You moaned loudly into your hand as he reached the end. You placed your hand on your stomach. You knew he was there. You didn't feel him as deeply as Satoru did. But he stretched you more. And it was as overwhelming as with Satoru...

You lose track of time lying there with your legs on either side of his hips. That's why you didn't know how long it had been since you were lying there and getting used to him.

"Can I move?" he asked you, holding your knee.

You nodded, giving permission.

And he didn't regret it. His hand pushed your knee closer to your chest, giving him better access and also giving Satoru a better view.

You were so tight and hot. No matter how he moved, you still pulled him in.

And slamming his hips against yours, he growled softly, enjoying your moans. You held his shoulders, trembling. He now knew how Satoru felt inside you. It's a divine feeling... You're so damn tight...

Even though Satoru was doing a lot to your pussy, you would still remain just as tight.

Satoru laughed and said that your pussy was the same as at the beginning. And after he had fucked you a few times, he thought you were still a virgin because you were still just as tight. But you take big cocks like his so well.

His plan was to stuff your pussy into his shape. So that he will feel crazy about you. But he didn't know if it would be better to have you this tight. It's the perfect feeling when you squeeze him and suck him inside.

Suguru also felt so good.

It wasn't long before you came underneath him, murmuring his name as you tightened around him.

And your grunts caused Satoru to stand up, struggling quickly. And he moved towards your body as Suguru continued to thrust into your heat to spill his load onto your chest and watch how it all flowed over you. That was right.

The sight of you covered in cum was fucking beautiful.

So Geto added more to your stomach so they could watch, stewing over your sweaty, wet body.

Next time, you'll be dealing with two cocks at once...

The last chapter is coming soon. Something I'm excited about but terrified of. Because the first and last chapters are the hardest to write. I don't want to disappoint anyone with a poorly written last chapter.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo #geto suguru #jjk x reader #geto x reader smut #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #f**k your fav

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lonelystczennie · 6 months

Text

“Can I?”

Felix x Plus Size Reader

Summary: You and Felix’s friendship takes a surprising turn one night when he decides to show you how beautiful he thinks you are.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, reader and Lix are a lil tipsy, mentions of body insecurities, Lix is obsessed with readers chest and stomach, groping, nipple play, titty fucking, not proofread

A/N: I don’t even remember when I wrote this exactly, but it’s been in my drafts too long, so here. This is my first attempt at smut, so I’m sorry if it’s eh(lmk if I should try a part 2?)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Alright Lixie, come on, bedtime.” You said, carefully shuffling your friend down the hall to your room.

The two of you had been out to dinner with some friends, Felix having a few more drinks than usual and quickly gaining a rosy tint to his face, asking you if he could stay at your place rather than risk going home on his own, which you’d agreed to without a second thought.

It was something that had become more than a regular occurrence for the both of you over the course of your friendship, crashing at each other places when you were too tired or otherwise inhibited.

Once in your room, you released your hold on him, letting him flop down onto the bed with a giggle.

“Your bed’s always so comfy.” He said, snuggling down happily into the blankets.

“I’m glad you think so.” You grinned, finding his behavior endearing. Felix always had this bright and happy energy, but when he drank it seemed to go into overdrive, any walls and self-consciousness he held coming down.

“G’night lix.” You whispered, smoothing his hair before turning to leave, planning to sleep on the sofa instead, but he quickly sat back up, grabbing for your hands but missed, catching the hem of your shirt instead.

“Noo, stay with me, please?” He whined, looking up at you with sad eyes.

“Lix, you need to sleep.” You said.

“I’d sleep better with you here.” He pouted, making you bite your lip, trying to hide a grin. It wasn’t like it was the first time you’d shared each other's space like this, Lix was such a naturally affectionate person, it was easy for you to fall into the same behavior, finding immense comfort in his touch. He was so cute when he got like this, clingy, needy. “Please?”

You debated for a second, before relenting. “Fine.”

“Yay!” He beamed before sliding over, making room for you in the slightly too small bed. You may have cuddled together plenty of times before, but you couldn’t help the feelings of self-consciousness that lingered as you settled next to him, folding your arms across your stomach out of habit in an attempt to hide yourself. An action that apparently did not go unnoticed by him.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked, watching you with curious eyes.

“Do what?”

“Hide your stomach.” He pouted.

“Because it’s not nice to look at.” You said plainly, wanting to end the conversation quickly.

“That’s not true!” He exclaimed, sitting up again to look at you. “I like it! It’s so cute and soft, I love how it feels when we hug.”

He reached for your hands, but hesitated, glancing up at you for permission before touching you.

You nodded, curiosity overriding your insecurity.

He gently pulled your hands away before replacing them with his own, gently trailing along your sides and caressing the dips and rises of your tummy.

“See? It’s so soft and warm, it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty.” He said almost to himself, making your heart do a tiny sumersault.

“Can I lay on it?” He asked, looking up at you

Your immediate reflex was to say no, but the way he was looking at you with such adoration and the warmth of his touch made you relent again. “Okay.”

He carefully shifted around until he could rest on his side, looking up at you, letting out a deep sigh as his eyes fell close, nuzzling his cheek against the plushness of your belly.

“Comfy?” You asked, slightly amused by the look of utter contentment on his face.

“Mhm.” He smiled up at you dreamily, making you chuckle. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” You admitted. It felt really nice having him close like this, feeling his breath fan across your abdomen as you fell into a comfortable silence, his hand coming up to gently trace patterns across your ribcage, his fingers trailing dangerously close to the underside of your chest.

“I bet you tits are soft.” He said, more so thinking out loud than trying to initiate anything, but it made your breath hitch either way.

“You wanna find out?” You asked, surprising yourself with how even your voice sounded despite your nerves.

He looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. “Can I?”

This was a critical moment for your relationship, you were both hyper aware, teetering on the line between friends and something else, one that you’d been toeing for far too long, and that you couldn’t exactly come back from if crossed.

Not breaking eye contact, you nodded.

His hands ghosted up the sides of your breasts slowly, cupping one in each hand gently before kneading them experimentally, making you let out a small sigh, eyes falling shut.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, slightly breathless.

“Mhm, your hands are warm.” You hummed, pressing up into his touch.

“You’re not wearing a bra.” He noted, adjusting himself to better access your chest so that he was laying partially on top of you.

"I don't like wearing them to sleep. They're uncomfy." You sighed.

He continued toying with your breasts for a minute, eliciting the occasional pleased sound from you, when suddenly you let out a small giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“You kinda remind me of a cat, the way they knead things with their paws.” You jumped as he suddenly pinched one of your nipples, making you let out a yelp.

“Mean kitty.” You glared at him as he chuckled.

“I’m sorry, can I kiss it better?” He asked, voice dropping slightly, making your stomach do a little flip.

Biting your lip, you nodded.

He slowly trailed your shirt up, pausing at the top of your ribcage and glancing up at you once more for confirmation before he finally freed your chest.

“Shit.” He breathed, almost unconsciously as his gaze trailed over the expanse of exposed skin, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on breast and then the other, making you squirm slightly beneath him. He was trying to pace himself and move slowly, but quickly lost out to his own desire, growing more intense as he trailed wet, open mouth kisses everywhere across your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth, making you arch into him involuntarily.

“Lix,” You whined, your own hands having found their way into his hair and earning a low groan from him as you tugged on the blonde strands.

“So fucking pretty,” He purred, lips dragging up your neck before trailing back down to your chest. ”Wanted to tell you so many times how gorgeous I think you are.”

“Why didn’t you?” You managed to ask.

“I have no fucking clue.” He laughed, his breath against you damp skin making you shiver.

You were well aware of the growing bulge in his pants that was pressed against your thigh as he drooled over your chest, making the heat between your legs throb with need.

“Fuck, I wanna-” He caught himself, worried that his request might be go going too far too quickly.

“You wanna fuck them?” You asked, practically able to read his mind.

He looked up at you, mouth hanging open as he breathed unsteadily. “Can I? Please?”

You nodded.

He quickly scrambled to rid himself of his bottoms, nearly falling off the bed in his haste, cock springing free and causing your thighs to clench at the sight.

He carefully positioned himself over you, straddling your waist and staring down as if you were the most divine being he’d ever seen. “Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I’m sure, Lixie.” You nodded again, pressing your tits together for him before letting a trail of saliva drip down onto them from your mouth.

“Holy shit.” He mumbled as he watched you in disbelief, before letting his length slip between your breasts, letting out a low, shaking groan as your warmth enveloped him.

He started out slow, thrusting experimentally, reveling in the feel of your skin against his, but his pace quickly began to increase as he started to get lost in pleasure, chasing his release.

“Wanna fuck you. Wanted to fuck you for so long.” He panted, gripping the headboard above you for support. You angled your head down, letting your tongue loll down to lick his tip each time it peaked out from between your tits.

“Fuck, Y/n.” He whimpered, his face screwed up in pleasure as he loomed over you. You could swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your entire life.

Felix, falling to pieces, because of you.

“‘M gonna cum.” He warned, strokes getting sloppy.

“Cum for me, Lix, wanna feel it.” You whined, pressing your tits together more, tightening them around him.

“Shit, don’t, fuck, I’m-!” He rambled before cumming with a broken, drawn out moan, pulling back to paint your chest and stomach with streaks of white.

“F-fuck.” He stammered, shaking as he slid sideways off you, watching with hooded eyes as you gathered some of his release on your fingers and brought it to your lips for a taste.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He said unsteadily.

“You’re welcome.” You teased, sitting up and cleaning up his mess with your ruined shirt, before he was pressing you back against the mattress.

“Now, it’s your turn.”

#felix fluff #felix smut #skz smut #felix x reader #felix x y/n #felix x plus size reader #stray kids x plus size reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x plus size reader #stray kids smut #skz felix smut #felix scenarios #felix drabbles #lonelystczennie

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

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star wars but I've never watched it

I'm flirting with death (the star wars fandom) and it's about to succumb. I mean, be seduced. I promise when I flirt the intended result is not succumbing (usually). Here, have this, I know you maggots have missed my summaries they're so comprehensive and well-researched. Two cups of black coffee down. LET'S GO, MAGGOTS.

It is not Star Trek, and if I mix them up, both fandoms will tear me limb from limb, but mainly Star Trek because they're less popular?

No, that was not intended to be inflammatory, it's just what I was warned when I first got kidnapped. Don't blame the student, blame the system.

LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER.

Except that's actually a misquote, it's No, I am your father. Mad trivia game. Huge star wars fan, me (why do I sound like Crowley).

It's set in outer space.

Are daleks stormtroopers?

Yoda pulls sentences in half like Crowley pulls Aziraphale's legs apart while they're not talking, and then tries interesting positions.

Leia has space-buns and makes out with Luke.

Luke is Leia's brother.

Anakin, whom I thought was some sexy babygirl side character, is apparently Darth Vader.

I am certain some people still find him a sexy babygirl. I just hope if he has a sister, she doesn't.

Is incest hereditary? Besides the obvious, I mean.

Small and green, Yoda is.

Daleks or not, there are storm-troopers, and they wear white plastic but not in a kinky way. Mostly. I remember one video a maggot showed me of a dustbin and--anyway.

They have bad aim.

There is a Death Star, and there is also a Death Star in Star Trek, but this is the more obvious one.

It has machinery specially engineered so if you shoot at that one place, the entire spaceship explodes or shuts down, which is a convenient feature.

A baby Yoda, they made. To make merchandise in time, Disney failed. Money, they lost.

There's something called the Force which everyone irl uses to try and get their remote to fly to them while sitting on the couch watching TV. They squint and reach out their hand while doing this. It rarely works.

There are a lot of unnecessary sequels and prequels. People are not happy.

A lot of Star Wars has inspiration drawn from ancient Indian philosophy and Hindu mythology. Just fun trivia, since I'm such a huge Star Wars fan.

Chewbacca?

R2D2? Robot go beep beep.

Han Solo and Leia get together.

Who is Han Solo? The guy who witnessed Leia making out with her brother. Whatever gets you off, king.

Dead, Yoda might be. Not sure, I am.

Rogue 1?

Return of the... Empire? No, wait, Jedi.

Empire Strikes Back!

Jedi exist. Because uh, it was in the title. They'd better exist.

Luke's daddy cuts off his hand. Not in a sexual way. But you never know with this family.

End (Not. Disney is going to milk this cash cow till they run out of ideas because of underpaid writers, and then they'll do a remake, probably).

Welcome, you are. Comprehensive, all-inclusive, this summary is.

#good omens mascot #asmi #star wars #good omens #<- got to love the brainrot #it even sneaks into my other fandom posts #maggots #empire strikes back #han solo #luke skywalker #yoda #weirdly specific but ok #rogue one #star wars summary #return of the jedi #sw fandom #star wars fandom

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simp-ly-writes · 6 months

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Time Stands Still

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Summary: John is not one to change his accessories, yet after your wedding he seems to have a knack for it.

Warnings: cuteness!

A/N: Saw a post on my insta feed recently of this and just thought immediately that i should write something about it.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

It had been a few days since you and John had gotten married in the cool fall air, leaves falling onto your shoulders - reminiscent of the day you both met outside a local cafe; flower blossoms falling upon both of your shoulders and hair all those years ago.

You and John were laying on the couch in an unpacked living space, boxes stacked towards the ceiling like skyscrapers. John had decided to move the rest of his furniture fully into your home just before the wedding. Yet after the reception and all following celebratory events; time had appeared to slip through your fingers alongside your combined energy.

Yet you both decided to have this moment together soaking up what would soon before habitual; smiling at the thought. You played with the captain's fingers that laid across your stomach; twirling the golden wedding band that encased your initials and wedding date currently sitting across his ring finger thoughtfully. As he raked his fingers through your hair and across your scalp while humming to himself a tune that you couldn't quite recognize.

Soon your hands made their way up his fingers and pushed past the cuffs on his dress-shirt that you had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago. You couldn't help but notice the watch that was placed across his wrist; angling his hand to see it better you noticed that the usual seconds ticking by had not changed in the slightest.

Furrowing your eyebrows you began to unbuckle the band and try to think of ways to solve the apparently broken watch. Having not prior experience you looked towards John concerned and asked him where he had purchased it; maybe a refund could be issued...

Price looked down at you laying against him thoughtfully as he let out a thoughtful hum in recognition of your question. He then open and closed his mouth, trying to think of the right way to place his words; eyebrows furrowing slightly.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he called you overly observant in a loving manner and that it was supposed to be a surprise for later. Pulling out another small black box from his jacket pocked that laid across the back of the couch. You began to feel your heart race in an all to familiar memory.

He handed the present to you and watched closely as you opened it slowly; for dramatic effect of course, you giggled slightly to yourself as you felt John tense behind you- awaiting for your reaction.

Inside the box sat a matching watch, leather band and detailed carving in all, with the same issue- the seconds hand would not move. Turning around to face your husband fully, you looked towards his worried that he picked up a scam of a deal as he began to laugh at your clueless reaction.

Apologizing almost instantly, he cupped your cheek and said that you were being too cute, he began to explain why the hands would never move as he rubbed circles into your skin; cheeks becoming red.

The watches are purposefully broken by yours truly. I had Soap stop them both when each of us said, 'I do.' While at our wedding, I know that it is nothing grand but I thought it would make for a great reward after moving in fully.

Tears. That was your reaction, large happy and all encompassing tears stained your cheeks that pulled into a wide smile as you reached up and pulled his face closer to yours. Whispering thank you and pulling your lips together, smiles touching and hands holding.

Life would carry on for you and John in your intertwined futures, yet time would always stand still for you both in moments like this.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw #cod john price #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes

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ayyy-pee · 10 months

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Hi lexi! I just finished Strangers in Love and it’s so beautiful that I just don’t want to let it go yet! Would you be open to maybe writing a drabble for Reader x Nanami in this story? Like when they first started dating in high school? I’d love to learn their history

Thank you for all your great works! ❤️

omg anon i'm sooooo sorry it took me so long to get back to you! i'm barely crawling out of my slump lol but i hope you like this. it got a little more angsty than i intended but it felt a little fitting for them idk T_T. hope you enjoy!

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: You and Nanami take a trip down memory lane.

Genre: Divorced to Lovers AU

The tension is thick in the apartment as you and Nanami set down the final pair of small boxes you'd retrieved from your storage space on the coffee table. Satoru is over for some reason, lounging lazily on the floor. Without a word, you and Nanami take a seat on the sofa, a good amount of space between you two. The boxes sit there, untouched in the silence. Satoru's eyes dart between the two of you before he leans forward and peels the tape off of one.

"I take it therapy didn't go well..." Satoru sighs, pulling out the contents of the box.

An understatement. It's been quiet like this since you and Nanami had returned home from one of your couples therapy sessions. After a very intense session going over the reasons for your initial divorce, you both left feeling...honestly? frustrated with each other.

Where you felt justified in how you handled the divorce situation, Nanami disagreed. He'd of course apologized for what you felt contributed to your first marriage’s demise, but felt he would have been willing to work through things had you come to him, had you waited for him to be in a better headspace.

Where Nanami voiced how he felt things could have worked out differently, you disagreed. You didn't feel there was a way to work past your issues at the time, Nanami being too stubborn and "too tired" to ever listen.

There didn't seem to be a way for you two to agree. And so, your therapist gave you homework. Your assignment? Go on a walk down memory lane together. Apparently you and Nanami had a habit of dwelling on the negatives when it came to discussing your divorce. It was a sore spot for you both.

You'd left therapy, annoyed and in a sour mood, muttering to Nanami to take you to your storage space where all the pictures, gifts and memories…your entire relationship with Nanami stood frozen in time. And Nanami, in as sour a mood as you, agreed. You'd arrived home to find Gojo sprawled out on your floor. Who even knew how he'd gotten in there? At this point, you just assumed he could move through walls.

"Ewwww, you kept this?" Satoru whines, pulling a picture of him, Nanami and you in high school from the box. It's a selfie of the three of you, though Satoru should’ve never been in it. You reach forward, taking the tiny photo from your friend and Nanami closes the distance on the sofa, scooting closer to have a good look.

You remember it well, the first picture you'd ever taken together.

High School Years

It had been a little under a year since you'd transferred to Jujutsu Technical High School for your Junior year and you were still adjusting to how insanely difficult the curriculum was. You were lounging beneath the shade of a tree during lunch period with Nanami, quietly chatting about how damn hard your physics lab was. Nanami listened patiently, humming to indicate he was paying attention to you as he flipped through your physics work.

You're waiting for your friend, Haibara, to get out of class, the one who'd introduced you to Nanami in the first place. You all made plans to meet, but he was running behind and this was honestly your first time being alone with Nanami. You'd worried you wouldn't have anything to talk to him about. Mostly because Nanami was always so quiet, hardly spoke a word to you even with Haibara around. Also because despite his silence, you had the biggest crush on your blonde, sidebanged friend of a friend. Though you could never bring up the courage to say anything about it.

Mainly because Nanami felt wholly unapproachable. Even so, you were surprised at how easy it was to simply...exist together without Haibara as a buffer.

Nanami's eyes scan over your classwork and after a moment of silence, he closes the book, placing it gently into your lap which makes your heart feel like it's trying to crawl out of your chest.

"If you'd like..." he begins quietly. "I can help you study the material. I'm pretty good at physics." He stares down at his legs laid out before him, a faint hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "I could come by your dorm tonight? We can study in the common room...if that's ok."

"Really?" You tried not to sound too excited at the prospect of spending more alone time with Nanami.

"I'd be happy to."

And for the first time since you'd met Nanami, you saw the tiniest bit of a smile appear on his lips. Your eyes widened, heart pounded, cheeks heated when you saw how beautiful the boy before you truly was. Now you wore a goofy smile of your own.

"I'd like that, Nanami."

He squirms briefly in his spot before he clears his throat. "You can call me Kento."

"Kento..." You test his name on your tongue, smiling when you see Nanami now staring at you, eyes wide, noticing the now red tips of his ears. So cute. "Thank you, Ken-"

"Awww, look at the lovebirds," an annoying voice you'd grown accustomed to teased. You sighed, looking up to find none other than your school nuisance looming over you, Satoru Gojo grinning down at you. "Should I take a pic so you losers can remember your first date?"

And before you could reply, he snapped a selfie of you three; you and Nanami still sitting on the ground and Gojo front and center, two fingers up to make a peace sign. He spun around, laughing when he saw the pic before he turned his phone to show it to you both. "Man, I'm sending this to Haibara. He'll love it."

Next to you, Nanami stands. "Speaking of, I need to get to class. I know Yu has your cell number. Is it okay for him to give it to me?"

"Oh, I can just give it to you now?" You offer, an attempt to delay his departure.

Gojo interrupted. "Oh, yeah! Gimme your number, too since we're all sharing." His thick, round sunglasses slipped down the slope of his nose, one of his freakishly blue eyes winking at you.

Nanami scowled at the upperclassman. "It's fine. I'll get it from Yu and will text you to meet up later. I have to get to class." He sneered at Gojo one last time as the snowy haired man settled down in Nanami's spot under the tree. "Try not to be more unbearable than usual, Gojo," he gritted out, making Gojo chuckle next to you.

You did get a text from Nanami that night. You'd met up to study, which was mostly you sneaking peeks at Nanami's beautiful side profile as he sat as close as he could to you, dragging his finger along your physics workbook.

Beneath the table, where you both gripped the edges of your seats, Nanami's fingers brushed against yours. The sudden contact made you jump. But Nanami didn't react, still explaining something about 7s and 3s. You weren’t listening. You brushed off the touch as an accident, until you felt Nanami’s finger on yours again. Just his pinky, gently running over your knuckles before he stopped when you didn't move. Nanami continued going over the study materials as if nothing happened, the red hue on his ears returning and you suddenly realized this was his tell. He was nervous, embarrassed. Just like you.

Heart in your throat, you reached your pinky over and brushed it along his knuckles, his reaction immediate as he linked his pinky with yours.

Above the table, your eyes met, words lodged in your throat as you held hands with no one in the world aware except you two. Nanami's phone buzzes and it takes him a few seconds to tear his gaze away from yours before he picks it up. He tells you it's a text message from Haibara, so you lean over to see. There's a photo attached.

Yu Haibara: How's the study date going?

The tips of Nanami's ears redden even more if possible, and he quickly brushes his long golden strands over them. This makes you giggle beside him.

Yu Haibara: Gojo sent me this earlier and I meant to text it to you.

1 Image Attached

Nanami opens the photo, the selfie of you, him and Gojo taking over his screen.

"Cute," you whisper, the grip of your pinky tightening around Nanami's under the table. He doesn't say anything. He taps the screen, probably sending a reply back before he gets back to studying.

At the end of the night, as Nanami packs his belongings back into his bag, his phone buzzes again with a message. You spare a quick glance at his screen, doing a double take when you see his phone background. It's pixelized from the zoom, a little blurry, but it's definitely you beneath the tree that afternoon, rolling your eyes as Gojo took the picture.

That night changed everything for you and Nanami. Group outings soon turned into date nights, study sessions to makeout sessions, awkward smiles to shy kisses. All of it with Nanami, your first boyfriend, your first husband, your first love.

Present Day

Satoru has now dumped most of the box’s contents out. You and Nanami have joined him on the floor, you sitting between Nanami's legs with your back pressed against his front.

"Oh my god, Ken, do you remember this one?" You hold up a photo of you both at prom, awkwardly holding each other in front of a tacky background. Nanami is wearing a smile that looks almost painful, and you with your obnoxious blue eyeshadow are beaming.

Nanami chuckles behind you. "Yes, I do. I remember Satoru spiking the lemonade and Yu vomiting everywhere."

You throw your head back with a laugh. "Yeah, right after he found us making out on the side of the building. Threw up the second he saw us..." You recall between giggles. "So rude."

Across the table, Satoru shifts the contents of the last box around. "He would've loved to see you guys workin' it out." He mutters. "Miss that kid sometimes."

"Me too," you and Nanami say in unison.

"He knew I loved you before I did," Nanami says solemnly, thinking of Yu. "He would've never let us get to the point we did."

You nod, remembering the wide, contagious smile of your first friend at your new school. And it brings you back to the beginning of you and Nanami, who you would've never known without Yu.

Haibara, who helped you navigate your relationship early on and hilariously guided you through your awkward stages with Nanami.

The picture reminds you of the first time you'd held hands in public. It takes you back to your first kiss outside of your dorm room after seeing a movie with Nanami, the first time you'd made love. It pulls back all of your first memories of your early stages with Nanami. The picture reminds you of when you'd moved in with Nanami. Makes you think about all of your ups and downs and what inevitably brought you back to each other.

It reminds you of Yu, who listened whenever you argued with Nanami and pushed for you both to make up. He knew you belonged together, even if you didn’t know it yet. It was Yu who brought you together, and Yu who was ultimately reminding you all these years later to remember where you began.

You lean back into Nanami's embrace when he holds up another photo; this one is of you two at your first wedding, both wearing big smiles. By that time, Yu had been long gone. But you made the most the day just the way Yu would’ve wanted you to. You couldn't wait to start your lives together, to be together forever.

You didn't know what the future held back then. But you know what the future holds now - a love withstanding time. A love that survives. A love that you know you both would fight for no matter what this time.

This force of nature, this strong, pure, burning love that never left either of you, even when you were miles and prefectures apart. It was what brought you together again, the reason you both were willing to try again.

Nanami kisses your head, breathing into your hair. "I want to keep looking through these, but I want to talk about therapy later. Really sit down and talk, okay?"

You nod, eyes still glued to your wedding picture and your heart swells knowing that one day soon, you'll be doing this all over again with the man you've loved for as long as you can remember.

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skzstannie · 5 months

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"We Fell in Love in October"

SKZ -> Seungmin x reader

This is a song fic inspired by "We Fell in Love in October" by girl in red. Song lyrics are italicized!

genre: fluff cw: none, just Seungmin being a soft boy :) wc: ~900

Happy scrolling!

"It's been a long week; I've missed my girl." Seungmin's voice echoes through the stairwell, his soft tone travelling to floors below you.

Walking up the stairwell towards the rooftop of your apartment complex is you and Seungmin. It was your turn to pick what to do for date night, and you decided on stargazing, because what's more romantic than laying on a candlelit rooftop while looking at the stars.

You reach the door to the rooftop, and you walk through the opened door, courtesy of Seungmin. It's an absolutely beautiful scene, the night sky scattered with thousands of stars. One seems to stick out to you, looking significantly brighter than the rest, and Seungmin points out that it's a planet, probably Jupiter.

He grabs your hand, leading you over to the plush blanket you set up earlier. Alongside the blanket are numerous throw pillows off your couch and your small Bluetooth speaker. Your things rest in the middle of the roof, a spot void of the nice outdoor furniture that litters the rest of the space. Seungmin compliments your choice of drink for the night, immediately reaching for the chocolate milk upon sitting. He pours it into the mugs sitting beside you guys and hands you one, offering up the bigger mug knowing the beverage is your favorite.

You two sip on your drinks for awhile, and you bask in the comfort that is your boyfriend. You gently grasp Seungmin's arm and pull him down next to you. He stretches his arm out to you, allowing your head a comfortable place to rest.

"If the night sky was my life, you'd be Jupiter," he comments, glancing over at you with a teasing smirk on his face.

"That is entirely too cheesy, but you know I love it," you chuckle back, leaning into him to give a light peck to his cheek. He blushes slightly, and you find it endlessly precious how he still gets flustered from the smallest amounts of affection.

You sit in silence for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the clear night sky. It's a beautiful evening late in November, one of the warmest days you've experienced since the early days of September. You can hear the sounds of cars rushing below, the occasional horns beeping when people become too impatient.

"Ya know, we fell in love in October, which really wasn't that long ago. I don't know how I survived my whole life without knowing you." Seungmin apparently came prepared with the loving compliments tonight, throwing them out left and right.

"You wanna know something else?" you ask, your gaze sweeping over to him. "I can't imagine my future without you either," you counter back.

Having only been dating for around two months, you were both still relatively new to each other. The other's mannerisms were slowly being learned, the vocabulary becoming shared as the days go on. You learn new things about Seungmin everyday, all his cute quirks and habits that you didn't recognize the day before. You do know, however, that you're slowly falling more and more in love everyday.

"It truly is a beautiful night, thank you for setting all this up."

"I've been wanting to do this for awhile, but I wanted to wait until we were a little more comfortable with each other. It's pretty romantic, so I didn't want to scare you away," you explain.

"You know, honestly, I never thought I'd be here, with you. And I don't just mean here on this roof, stargazing, I mean, like, in this relationship at all." You look at him, your eyebrows knitting together. In your mind, it's the other way around. He is perfect in every way imaginable. Way too perfect to settle with someone like yourself, not that you are complaining.

"What do you mean? We clicked right away, I thought," you question.

"I watched you for so long before we talked, admiring [you] from afar. I'd see you walking down the street, thumbing through your favorite book at the coffee shop, at the grocery store. I was always too nervous to talk to you," he confesses, his eyes roaming the sky until they finally meet yours. "I'd always hoped, 'her, that girl right there, she's gonna be my girl one day', but I never had the guts to make the move."

"I never knew that," your voice fades away, thinking back to remember whether you'd ever noticed Seungmin the day before you first met him.

"And now look at us, you're my world, my everything," his arm tightens around you, pulling you in closer.

Your heart bursts with love for the man next to you, enjoying the way he's finally starting to open up to you more. He's had a hard time expressing himself to you, so hearing such heartfelt compliments from him enamors you.

The rest of your night goes exactly how you imagined it- perfect. You know, in your heart, it doesn't matter what you two are doing, this is how it always feels, how it will always feel. You truly complete each other.

"I told you earlier that you'd be my Jupiter in a sky full of stars," he pauses, his face softening. "I take it back, in a sky full of stars, you're my galaxy. You are the stars, the planets, all of it combined. If there's no galaxy, there is only nothingness." You look to him, expecting to see another teasing smirk plastered across his face. However, you notice the way his eyes stare at you with bliss, all signs of teasing seemingly melted from his features since you're earlier conversation. "Yea, I like the sound of that. You're more than the stars in the sky, you're my galaxy, my own personal Milky Way."

#skz #stray kids #seungmin #skz drabbles #skz oneshots #skz x reader #kim seungmin #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #seungmin x reader #Spotify

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autistpride · 10 days

Text

Autism Acceptance

Prompt 11: Coffee shop AU

Wordcount: 1000

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus had trouble finding work. He put in applications everywhere, for any position, because he was desperate. Despite passing all his courses and gaining the required GCSE’s, he bombed his interviews. So he had told his parents that he would take a gap year instead and get some work experience. Only no one called him for an interview and the few that had, turned him away within minutes.

After nearly two months, Remus finally came clean to his parents about his lack of employment. His mum had to hold his dad back from giving a few of the places he applied a piece of his mind. Never one to allow Remus to give up, Lyall decided he would open up his own coffee shop and hire Remus as an employee.

Everything moved quickly and soon The Full Moon Cafe opened its doors. A small quaint little hole in the wall shop that mixed coffee, library, and children’s playground together. One corner of the shop held a little indoor climbing structure, slide, and foam floors for children. The other two walls were covered floor to ceiling in books that people donated. The last wall housed the single unisex toilet and the tiny kitchenette space. It also had the counter and display case that showed off the day’s delicious baked goods that his mum made fresh every morning.

It took Remus some time to get used to the position and how to make all the different drinks, but everyone was patient with him. By the time his gap year was over, Remus was a pro and asked to stay on instead of trying for university again. He had learned all the regulars names, memorised their orders, and even went so far as to have them ready for when they walked in. Remus hadn’t encountered a rude customer or a confusing order once, that could also have to do with the fact that it was a fairly small town and everyone knew everyone. No one came into the cafe that didn’t know Remus was autistic, at least not until Sirius Black.

The bell dinged over the cafe door and the prettiest guy Remus had ever seen walked in one after the other. Remus had never seen anyone like them before. They were total opposites yet so oddly the same.

“I’ll have an iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti with breve. five pumps vanilla, seven pumps caramel, and four Splenda poured not shaken, but placed into a trenta cup so it doesn’t splash out the top.”

The look on Remus’ face must have betrayed him because the man looked at Remus and immediately changed his order. “On second thought, I’ll just have a tea.”

Remus nodded and rang the man up, asking for his name.

“Sirius. Yes I am serious. Sirius, like the star,” the man said while pulling his hair back into a scrunchie he apparently kept in his pocket.

Remus wrote the name on the cup and poured the hot water into it, placing the loose leaf tea into a disposable tea bag and setting it into the cup to steep before handing it to Sirius, the star.

Sirius nodded his thanks and set up at a small table near the entrance.

For the following four days later Sirius came back, once again ordering a tea and nothing more. Remus didn’t work weekends, instead his friend James took those shifts. James played football with the local club and attended courses at university during the week, so he took all the weekend shifts.

Remus couldn’t get Sirius out of his head all weekend and when he showed up for work on Monday, Sirius was there right at opening.

Another week went by and Remus and Sirius had started to talk more, just general pleasantries and small talk. Sirius never ordered anything more than tea and sometimes a pastry. Remus knew he could make complicated orders and he knew Sirius knew after two weeks sitting in the cafe and listening to some of the complex requests from customers that came in, but Sirius never asked for his original order again.

That third week, Remus had Sirius’ tea ready by the time he walked in every morning, not unlike the other regulars. Yet what Remus never said was that Remus practised at night after the shop closed up. He was determined to get Sirius’ original order right. It took him another week to manage it, and when he did he cheered and danced around the shop.

Monday of the fourth week, Remus handed Sirius his order when he showed up. Sirius looked at the cup confused.

“Remus this isn’t a tea” he said with his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched up.

Remus shook his head no with a grin, “no its not.”

Sirius took a tentative sip of the drink and his eyes widened in surprise, stormy grey meeting golden.

“You made my order.”

Remus nodded, proud of himself.

Sirius took another drink and moaned as if he was drinking the best thing he had ever tasted.

The noise was absolutely obscene in Remus’ ears and his ears turned dark red and his cheeks flushed.

“Remus this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. You remembered something I told you like a month ago and you, you practised this didn’t you?”

Remus simply shrugged like it was no big deal.

Sirius set the cup down on the counter before leaning over the counter and wrapping his arms around Remus in the most awkward hug Remus had ever experienced, and he experienced a lot of awkward hugs.

When Remus didn’t return the hug Sirius dropped his arms and stuttered through another thank you and practically ran to his usual table, forgetting his drink on the counter.

Remus looked down, seeing the cup, and bit back a laugh before walking it across the cafe to him.

“Oh fuck thanks,” Sirius mumbled.

“Hey SIrius?” Remus asked, “can we try that again?”

Sirius smiled and nodded.

#mauraders #wolfstar #my writing #autistic remus #actually audhd

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