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scarletsaphire · 2 months

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Somethings been wrong with the Ghost Zone lately. No matter where he is or what he's doing, Danny hears a faint, beckoning whisper. Surely it's nothing to worry about.

---

Ha ha!! You thought I was done with EI, think again! EI 3 baby! This timme with @godgytrnbrt on tumblr, and you can see his art here. It'll also be put in the appropriate place in the fic.

The Ghost Zone was never a quiet place. Even if you managed to find a place where the people who called it home weren't causing a ruckus of some sort, you still wouldn't find silence. The ectoplasm that made up the air was constantly in motion, filling ears with a whooshing sound not unlike the sound of a running river. While it always faded to white noise, it was never quiet.

That's why Danny took so long to notice the whispering.

It was faint, unable to compete with the other sounds of the Ghost Zone, and it wasn't like Danny spent a lot of time on that side of the portal. He was busy enough as is, he didn't have the time to wander around in another dimension. He made a point to only go when he absolutely had to. Like right now, with his arm hanging off of his shoulder in a far too literal sense to be comfortable.

He normally ignored most of his injuries. They had a habit of sorting themselves out in due time. But right now there was less skin and muscle and bone between his left shoulder and his upper arm then there was air, so he made the decision that maybe this did warrant a visit to the Far Frozen, if only to make sure that it would reattach itself.

He needed to get there fast; at least, that's what Sam had read online about finger reattachment, and they'd decided that it was similar enough to apply here. That's why he was flying with his own speed; while the Specter Speeder would've helped keep him safe, it took too long to set up. Danny had always been a fast flyer anyway, even if the pain radiating from his wound was getting worse and worse, eventually progressing into something just shy of a migraine.

It was then that he first heard the whispering. He couldn't make anything out, just a distinctive white noise bouncing around the back of his head. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew that they were words, and that they were meant for him. Danny spun around, cradling his injured limb against his torso as he looked for the threat.

He was surrounded by nothing but unmarred, swirling green.

Danny wanted to investigate. He wanted to find out more, wanted to follow the threads of the mystery tugging at his chest, pulling him downwards, towards his left. He almost followed too, lowering himself into the deeper, brighter lights.

His arm twinged in pain again, and Danny was once again reminded that speed was of the essence.

The whispers did not leave him, never waning in his flight, as if whoever or whatever was speaking to him was right over his shoulder, whispering into his ear.

It finally stopped when he was sequestered deep within the Far Frozen, after Frostbite finished sewing his arm back in place. If he wasn't more preoccupied with the needle in his flesh, he might've realized that he missed it.

---

Danny would've forgotten the whispering, if he hadn't heard it again a few weeks later on yet another run to the Far Frozen. He couldn't say whether it was a more severe injury or not, but it certainly hurt more. Probably because he still had nerves there.

Every time he tried to look anywhere but slightly up and to the right, he could feel the sharp tip digging against his sclera. He couldn't stop the stream of tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the ectoplasm leaking from the wound. His eye burnt from being open for so long, but the wooden rod protruding from just off of his iris wouldn't let him blink.

To put it simply, there was a pencil in his eye, and it hurt like a bitch .

The fact that it hadn't been intended only made it sting more. Skulker had just thrown him through the wall of the school and gotten lucky. At least the fight had wrapped up with only a few poorly aimed ectoblasts after that; Danny didn't think he'd be able to deal with a full scale fight with his current lack of depth perception.

There had been a lot of discussion on what to do about the pencil after the fight wrapped up. Sam wanted to pull it out immediately and let Danny's ghostly healing take care of it. Jazz wanted to make the drive to the Far Frozen, not trusting them to be able to remove the pencil without causing more damage to such a sensitive area. Danny wanted his ability to see back, and Tucker just wanted to stop looking at it.

In the end, Jazz won, which was why she was in the driver's seat of the Specter Speeder with Danny sitting next to her. Tucker was busy pinging their parents ghost equipment busy, and Sam was acting as a backup excuse, just in case.

The ride was agonizing, for a number of reasons. The fact that Danny was in immense amounts of pain was the main component of course, but the boredom didn't help any. He had become painfully aware of just how much he moved his eyes, and any conversation he might have was filled with a very literal stabbing sensation.

Jazz had tried to fill the silence at the beginning. It had worked, for a little while, mostly because Danny had grown very good at zoning out whenever she said the word "psychologically." When she started talking about how "severe physical trauma would affect him mentally" and "the effects of a lessened grasp on ones own mortality," he asked her to stop. Danny didn't blame her for settling on those topics; rambling was a nervous habit of all the Fenton's. It was more the fact that he couldn't ramble back to cover his own nerves that he cared about.

Danny's gaze was trained at the upper right window of the Specter Speeder, just like it had been for the better part of two hours. That was nice; it gave him the fun and exciting pass time of counting how many floating rocks they passed. He'd just passed number seventy two when he noticed the pattern.

The Ghost Zone had always been a whirlwind, impossible to keep your eye on just one group of ectoplasmic clouds or wind or sky or ground. It blended together in a mess of irregular swirls that could never be tracked, no matter how hard they tried. It defied physics, just like every other part of ectoplasm did. That was why a pattern was so notable to Danny. Nothing in the Zone followed a pattern besides the ghosts, and sometimes the islands. There shouldn't have been anything for him to notice.

And yet, the longer Danny looked, the more it seemed like the very far corner of the Specter Speeder, just where the glass connected to the metal, ghastly hands seemed to grasp at the vehicle.

He was seeing things. That was the simple explanation, and probably the correct one; he couldn't see much of anything clearly right now, not with most of his view being blocked by wood or blood. It should've been the end of the whole thing; he was in pain and bored out of his mind and half blinded, and he was seeing things. But the longer he stared, the more he swore that there was something out there. Something that was trying to get in.

Danny tried to ask Jazz if she saw it too, but the action of opening his mouth was horrible, sending the pencil wiggling in his eye. He had to suppress the urge to flinch; he'd figured out by now that flinching only made it ten times worse.

He lifted his hand slowly up to his face, focusing as hard as he could on not moving any part of his face. His wrist covered the thing in the window from his view, but he only needed to hold the pencil steady long enough for him to talk.

"Do you see the thing in the window?" He spoke slowly, focusing on moving his lips as little as possible.

He couldn't see Jazz jump, but he felt it in the way the Specter Speeder jolted slightly before stabilizing again. He was grateful that he was holding the pencil steady; if it had been moving freely, it would've hurt. A lot.

"I don't see anything..." Jazz said to Danny's left, just out of his field of view. "I have the general defenses turned on, but I'll switch on the rest, as a precaution."

"Don't," Danny said. "Too slow."

He could see Jazz's hand hovering over the control panel in the corner of his periphery. "I suppose you do have a point..." She withdrew her hand. "If you're sure."

Danny was sure, even if he couldn't say so. Gently, he withdrew his hand from the pencil; he'd tried holding it steady towards the beginning of the trip, and only managed to drive it deeper. He failed to resist the urge to glance at the corner of the window, visible once again now that his hand had been withdrawn.

There was nothing there. There stayed nothing there for the entire duration of the trip.

"We're here," Jazz said, bringing the Specter Speeder down to the snowy tundra. "Let me put on the winter gear, and then I'll get the door for you."

Danny didn't answer for obvious reasons. He could hear her moving around the back of the vehicle, the rustling of coats and zippers. It felt like she was taking forever. They needed to go, and they needed to go now. They'd waited long enough, they'd kept it waiting long enough, they-

Jazz pulled the door open with a thud, and Danny stumbled forwards as if he had tripped. He couldn't remember standing up from his seat, but he must have, because the next thing he knew he was laying with his back in the snow, staring up into the constant storm.

He expected to be struck with cold, seeping into his flesh, through his jumpsuit, just like it always did here. He hadn't been prepared for the warmth that enveloped him so completely. It was like he'd been wrapped up in a blanket, cocooned completely in something that felt more like home than anywhere he'd been since he'd died.

The warmth centered around the front of his head, pooling around his eyes. It overwhelmed the pain, washing it away in a tide of comfort, enveloping his eyes in a bright, comfortable, familiar green until he couldn't see anything but.

The whispering started again. This time, he could understand it.

It still wasn't speaking in words, and yet it called to him, cooing at him gently. "You're hurt," it whispered in a caress against the back of his eye, cupping the inside of his head with phantom fingers. "My champion. My dearest prince. Let me help you, as you have helped me."

There was a shadow above him, an imprint in the green. He couldn't make out a face, or any features really; it wasn't even humanoid, not really. He could feel her smiling at him, pride and concern practically radiating through her touch. She was soft and holding him close and she was warm enough that he could almost melt in her arms.

Two more shadows joined the green. One was slim, with clearly defined hair falling over a shoulder, and the other was a large, hulking figure that took up half of his vision. He knew those silhouettes. He opened his mouth to try and talk to them, to call out to them, but the warmth forced its way past his lips before any words could, clogging his tongue, forcing down his throat. What had been a comforting weight quickly became suffocating in a far too literal sense.

There was something firm and fuzzy on his shoulder, penetrating through the layer that covered him. It was like a bubble had been popped; all at once, the choking feeling disappeared, and the cold came rushing over him. He couldn't supress the shiver. Danny hadn't shivered in... he couldn't remember when.

"This is very concerning indeed." It was Frostbite's voice, and Frostbite's paw, and Frostbite standing above him. "We will need to run some tests. (Insert yeti name), would you escort the Great One's sister back to the huts? I will be handling his appointment personally."

Danny heard the other yeti agree, and then he was being lifted out of the snow on strong arms. They weren't warm. Danny didn't know if that was good or bad.

---

Danny's skin itched. Not the normal itch that most people got, when they touched something gross or their skin was dry or they'd gone too long without showering. Danny's skin itched from the inside, like there were bugs crawling underneath his flesh, worming around in his veins and his muscles. They tried to burrow through his flesh, crawling and clawing as they tried to forge their way out of him. It itched so bad that Danny could feel it in his teeth.

Nothing he did ever stopped the itching. He would scratch at it til he bled, a sickly mixture or reds and greens that stained his skin a putrid brown. His skin still itched. He scrubbed his flesh angry and red and with more soap than any person could ever need. His skin still itched. He tried to ignore it, using every last inch of willpower to claw him through a day where he didn't think about the wiggling sensation of a thousand tiny legs underneath his flesh. His skin still itched.

It didn't hurt. Danny would've been able to handle it, if it hurt, because he had been hurt time and time again, had to walk off broken bones and bleeding guts without so much as a grimace. But the pain would always fade away into a dull aching in his bones eventually, even if it took hours or days of gritting his teeth and downing pills that never did anything to help. But the itching?

The itching never stopped, never let up, never faded. It had been going on for months without any reprieve. If anything, the itching only got worse and worse as time went on, the wriggling sensation moving from his arms to his legs to his eyes, as if something was carving out a nest in the base of his skull, using his own eyes as a window. It was driving him insane.

He had told Sam and Tucker and Jazz about it, towards the beginning, when it had been nothing but a nuisance. They'd made the proper noises of concern, but none of them were that concerned over it. He'd been through worse. They all knew that he could handle an incessant itch.

And then it didn't stop. Weeks turned to months, and the longer it went the more Danny couldn't shake the feeling of tiny legs and fingers and antenna tracing over the inside of his skull and behind his eyes and the inside of his flesh. When Jazz went to wake him up and found scratch marks covering his arms and his nails stained with blood, that was it.

"We're getting you to the Far Frozen today. Something is clearly wrong," Jazz said, crossing her arms.

Danny blinked owlishly at her. "But... I have a test today."

"Well, then we'll just have to get you a doctor's note then," Jazz said.

"I don't think Frostbite can do that. Or that the school will accept it."

"They will," Jazz said. "I'll make sure of it." She walked to the door, pausing just as she reached the doorway. "Do you want to fly there, or do you want me to drive you?"

Danny's reply was slow, his mind foggy from sleep. "I'll go. You have things to do."

"Alright. But if I find that you didn't go, I will not be happy with you. Understood?" Danny nodded. "Good. I hope you feel better soon." With that, Jazz left and shut the door behind her.

It took Danny far longer than it should to get ready to leave. He ended up putting both legs into one pants leg, and fell flat on his face before he realized what he had done. He put his shirt on backwards, figure that out when he ended up with the tag in his face. He decided it wasn't worth the effort. And then, when he made it to the basement, facing the portal down with bleary, itchy, painful eyes, he realized that his preparations were for not, because he was just going to transform immediately, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest.

All Danny did was sigh.

He didn't even have a chance to open his eyes before he was doubled over in pain. The second he'd passed the border into the zone, the itching feeling immediately got worse. It was stronger, more pronounced, in a way he couldn't describe. All Danny knew was that it was a constant, obnoxious pressing of fingers and legs and antenna brushing behind his eyes, to teeth and pincers trying to claw their way out of his skin. He doubled over in pain, cradling his arm with his free hand.

Unlike the rest of his body, his arm burnt. A searing pain, centered around his shoulder, radiating out in pulsating waves as if it was lava coursing through his veins instead of blood. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't even breathe. All he was able to manage was a pained, high pitched whine.

He didn't expect a reply.

"Poor child," she said, and this time it wasn't in a whisper. Her voice echoed inside of Danny's brain, impossible to place what direction it came from. "You have been stuck for such a long, long time."

A warm hand drug itself down the side of Danny's face, and where it touched the inccessant itching faded into a comfortable warmth. It was instinct to lean into the touch, an instinct that Danny couldn't fight against. He wanted to; he was weakened, and whoever this voice was, whatever she was doing to him, it wasn't a good thing. He shouldn't be letting his guard down like this. But it had been so long since he'd had any relief, all the way back to his last trip to the Far Frozen, and he couldn't turn it down.

The hand pushed the hair out of his face with gentle fingers. "You do not need to worry about me, dearest," she said. "I am only here to help."

She was lying. She had to be. Nothing that helped would hurt so bad.

"I know it hurts," she cooed, and another hand fell on his other cheek. "Change always does. But you must change. This form you are so attatched to is not fit to rule. I am here to fix that."

With most of his face held in her hands, Danny could think, though it didn't seem to be helping any. Even with a semiclear head, her words weren't making any sense to him.

"You will understand soon, child," she said. "All you need to do is relax. I will handle the rest."

He had been awake for a long, long time. Taking a nap didn't sound too bad, did it?

Danny shook the thought off. His head was not as clear as he thought it was. It didn't matter what she said, she was an unknown threat, and he needed to get away. He tried to pry his head from her hands, but found he wasn't able to. He wasn't even able to open his eyes.

"You are right where you belong, dearest." Her words were soft, but firm. Certain. "And I am no unknown. You have known me since the moment you were created." Danny still couldn't open his eyes, but he didn't need to. She opened them for him.

All he could see was green. Every green, from the radioactive green of ectoplasm that had lit the backgrounnd of his life and death, to the green of putrid, rotting flesh, to a natural, bean green, like you would find in a garden. It was completely formless, not even an outline or an impression of something there. It was nothing, and yet it was life and death and decay and rebirth, coalessed into one color. It was everything. She was everything.

She had no form to smile with, but he could feel it on him, bright and electric and familiar. "Do you see now?" she asked, dragging an invisible finger down the side of his face. "You know me."

He did know her. He knew her from the hum of the portal that had killed him, and the electricty that pulsed through his body, and the ectoplasm that pulsed through his veins. She was all of that, after all, and so much more.

"I knew you would recognize me," she said.

Danny wanted to say something, but his tongue caught in his throat from a combination of awe and suffocating power. This wasn't just some ghost, but the Ghost Zone herself, as pure as could be, in front of him, talking to him, caressing his face. What was there for him to say?

"You don't need to say anything, child. You simply need to relax."

Danny didn't understand. Why was she here? Why was she talking to him? Why did he need to relax? What was happening?

"It is time, princeling, for you to fulfill your purpose."

That... didn't help at all.

"I'm not surprised," she said, and the entirety of the realms shook with her laughter. "You will understand, once you are rid of this form."

The warmth of her touch moved away from his face, down to his shoulders. It sat for a moment, just long enough for him to be confused, before it started to grow warmer, and warmer, until it was hot enough to burn. Danny opened his mouth to scream, but the warmthpooled in his throat, choking him.

"Hush, child," she cooed. "It only hurts because you think it should. You simply need to relax, and I will be able to mould you properly."

Danny didn't want to be moulded, properly or improperly.

"Oh, but you must," she said, and the heat in his shoulders went from burning to melting. "This form isn't fitting of a prince."

Danny wasn't a prince. He didn't want to be a prince. He wanted this to stop.

"I know child," she said, but the heat didn't stop. It only worsened, and his flesh melted off of the bone. "It will be over soon. Please, relax."

The melted flesh was caught and twisted, despite Danny's weak, gurlging protests and even weaker attempts to break her hold. He couldn't tell what she was doing with him, only that it hurt and that it wasn't him, until it suddenly was. It was with instincts born from pain that he contracted the half formed stub of a new arm. For one, blissful moment he was free from the searing heat and constraining grasp, and then it was back, surrounding his new arm completely.

"Please, child," she said, and maybe if he could think through the pain, he would marvel at the fact that she was begging. "You are only making this harder on yourself." She continued to shape the stub, dragging and stretching his flesh and bones as if he was clay on her potter's wheel. Danny couldn't struggle, not really, not when his entire brain had been whited out in pain, a pain he could only distantly remember from the last time he'd touched the essence of the Zone itself.

She only let go once the appendage she had crafted was nearly identical to the ones Danny already had, the only difference being its location. The moment the heat left him, Danny collapsed inwards, bringing two legs and three arms to his chest. If only for now, he could whimper.

She tsked in disappointment. "You are much more attached to this form than I expect," she said, and the heat returned, this time on Danny's exposed back. "We will have to try again."

She did. When she was finished with the new arm protruding out of Danny's back, she tried again. And again and again and again, until Danny had lost complete track of time, the only benchmark the number of new appendages he could vaguely feel at the edges of his consciousness, still drowned out by the burning pain.

Even through the pain, he could feel her gaze on him, powerful and infinite and calculating, as if he was a bug in a cage. "Perhaps a different approach is needed..." she said.

This time, when the heat of her touch melted his flesh, she did not try and shape it. Danny didn't bother trying to scream; he wouldn't be able to, just like he hadn't been able to the other dozen something times. All he could do was sit there, eyes closed tight and throat closed up, as he felt the heat intensify even further than it had before, until it melted away completely.

His new eye blinked open, leaking green and red, the remnants of flesh that hadn't quite fallen away yet. He could just barely see through the tangled web of limbs, none of which knew where to rest. As they moved, his vision moved with it; this eye was on one of them, though he couldn't tell where. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to see, but this eye did not bring with it an eyelid.

She was not satisfied. She didn't need to say anything for Danny to know; he could feel it in the air around him, and underneath his skin, and in how she moved to a different spot and repeated the process. Another eye blinked open, this one's vision entirely obscured, sitting stationary.

It was only after he'd been covered with nearly as many eyes as arms, and his field of vision, expanded tenfold, made his head spin and his stomach churn, did she stop. "You are far too stubborn for your own good, child," she said, and she brought her touch to his face again. The heat had died back down to that once comfortable warmth. "You cling to this form so hard that I can only bring forth what I have already claimed."

Her sigh shifted the whole realms, or maybe just the part where Danny was. "We will try again when you are more relaxed. Now, it is time for you to rest."

Despite not being able to close his new eyes, Danny's vision went black.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #ectoimplosion2023 #tw body horror #tw nonconsensual body modification #tw body modification #danny fenton #ghost zone #ghost king danny #ghost king au

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devilish-mirage · 2 years

Text

Habits

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Warnings; none (does my bad grammar count?)

Summary; he always comes back no matter how much he act as if he hates you.

Word count; 1,3k

A/n; no beta read, I swear I intended to write smut but somehow it turns into this-

Part 2 Blessing in Disguise

Masterlist

Here he is again, stumbling to carry himself with a terrible injury to your apartment. It wasn't his fault that most of his mission were nearby. He couldn't go to the hospital nor take care of himself, so that leaves him with this option.

The only safe option that he always tries to avoid and somehow always making because deep down he knows he needed this.

But for you it was different, it wasn't supposed to go this way, he wasn't supposed to be here and you were supposed to keep your distance away from him but here you are, for the umpteenth time, tending his wound because he wasn't careful enough.

You keep telling yourself that this is the last time you'll do this, it's the last time you'd open your door for him and the last time you'll let him in. It would be the last time that he sits there, knees touching with yours as his shirt hiked up to show his chest, the place where his injury is located.

You tried so hard to focus, you remind yourself that he is a patient but it isn't easy when he's sitting there with his chest on full display for you to see.

This man is oozing with sexuality and he doesn't even realize it but you like to think that he does, the reason he's always coming back is because he wants to see you. To tease and haunt you with his face, you curse yourself for being such a sucker for his looks.

But he looks so exhausted everytime and you can't help but worry. No matter how much you tried to hate him, you still care about him. Your heart longs for him but you know deep down that he doesn't feel the same so you opted to keep your mouth shut.

Maybe it's because you've seen people like him, people who tried so hard to push others away so they can be in pain alone, it isn't healthy but they've never learned to handle their pain in a healthy way before, nobody has showed them and when they do, they're scared at the unfamiliarity.

They're not used to it and it makes them terrified.

You know it scares him, to be cared of, to be loved by someone. So you'll give him space no matter how many times your heart aches at this specific scenario.

Or maybe you're just imagining things, that your brain makes up this scenario. Maybe you read too much into his actions when in reality he just really hate your guts.

But a girl can dream, right?

It's always has been like this, this particular thing is becoming a habit at this point. With the same thread and needles that you always wear to tend his wound in silence with his eyes bored deep into your face, as if he's studying you.

In a way you're correct, he's staring at you with such intensity that wished he can paint your face deep inside his brain, so he wouldn't forget every little details of your face.

The way that your eyes would zoom in and out of focus when the thread enter his skin, how your eyebrows would furrowed slightly when the thread penetrate his skin deeper than you intended to, you're trying your best to not hurt him even though he know he'll heal this wound with the help of his suits but he just needs to see you from time to time.

You're his only thread of sanity left even though he would rather die than to admit it.

He likes to stare at you so that when he opened his eyes, he can imagine you beside him, resting in his arms with a content expression adorned on your face, but you don't need to know that.

He thinks that you hate him, he thinks that you're annoyed at him and how his presence irks you.

It's a given, he's a rude bastard when you both first met. Trying to solve all of the problem by himself and didn't even trusted you with the simple part of the mission.

But he remembered clearly as if it was yesterday, even though it's been a year already, but it was 5th June. It was the day that he first met you.

You were wearing a blue shirt, his favorite color and paired with the most mesmerizing smile he has ever seen. You were bright like the sun, always smiling and you're so fucking sweet he swears someday he'll get a toothache just because of you.

He knows you're a strong woman, he knows how capable you are but he just doesn't want to take the risk. What if he put you in danger because of him? What if you died because of him? He couldn't live with that.

So he push you away, again and again until you're done putting up with his bullshit, "that's better," he told himself all the time. What an obvious lie.

He was confident that you're only doing this because of your kind nature, you wouldn't turn a blind eye for someone who's in need of a help and he adore that about you.

"Who did this to you?"

"What?" you huffed, looking up at him with a glare. "I said, who did this to you, Marc?"

His breath hitched, he can't get over the way that you say his name, it's just a name for fucks sake's.

But the way it sounded on your tongue makes him feel things he doesn't want. It makes him nervous yet excited. It's weird, for a second he wants to stay here, just being in your presence, listening to your voice, your sweet sweet voice as you called his name but he can't, he won't let it happen.

"Just the usual thugs. Nothing special."

You hums softly as you thread the needles across his skin and then it was silence again. The only thing that you could heard was his steady breathing and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops outside.

You've always wondered why he's so hostile towards you, when you've ever did was just trying to befriended him.

"Why do you hate me?" you didn't dare to look up, you keep busying yourself with the thread, already guessing he's putting on a scowl on that pretty face of his.

You were greeted with silence, leaving your question hanging on the air. You've expected this, this is how he is.

It was honestly how the conversation would go between the two of you, it was always you who'd asks the questions, always trying to make the atmosphere better with light small talk and him being him would only reply curtly, maybe a sentence if you're lucky.

You bit the inside of your cheek, quickly tying the thread together and stand up straight, turning your back at him and walking away with the kit without saying another word to him.

"I don't hate you."

You stop dead at your track, did you just hear that right? It was so quiet, you almost think that you're imagining it.

He stare at the back of your head, frowning when he realized he'd blurted that sentence out, did you hear him? He doesn't want to take any chances so he does the one thing that he's good at- running away from his problems.

You stay silent for a few second before turning your head to look back at him, catching his figure already walking to the door.

"Wait, Marc-"

He didn't even give you the chance to say anything, he didn't want to hear it, he can't. He's too scared of your response, even though deep down he wants to know, he'll have to put it aside, it's for the better.

"Thanks." he stated, never once meeting your eye and with that he walks out the door leaving you alone in the empty apartment.

But you both knows that he would always come back, this is his habit after all.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #x female reader #mcu moon knight #mira writes shts #angst

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 years

Note

hi, what do you think about yandere sonic ? (One punch man)

He'd easily be able to stalk his Darling, and it becomes a hobby of his. Obviously he wants to do it so he can watch over them and keep them from any danger; it's normally frowned upon for a ninja to be with an outsider, but there are so few of them left.

He decides that his Darling (if they have a vagina) can help him continue his bloodline, but that's a long-term goal of his. He needs to defeat Saitama and find out who wiped out his village, and once that's done he can start a family of ninja to train.

He's so good at sneaking around that he's broken into Darling's home multiple times a week without being caught. He's stolen panties to keep as a memento, watched them sleep, even cuddled with them without waking them. He's also caught them touching themselves and jerked off to it. Sooner or later though, he'll need to fuck them properly.

He'll leave small little notes for them sometimes, even if he was never good at writing haiku or other forms of poetry he learned in the village. The elders mainly focused on coded messages, which are worthless if Darling doesn't know how to decipher them. Usually he just leaves messages like: "You're safe with me around," "What were you dreaming about last night? It looked like you were having a nightmare," "I ate the last peach. Sorry"

When he finally does make his presence known, he's not going to take no for an answer. He's like a stray cat that always visits and can't be turned away. No matter where Darling goes, no matter how many times they change the locks or set up traps to keep him away, he'll be there.

He's not very "smooth" when it comes to actually talking to them. He's a direct guy and is canonically kind of an asshole to most people. He'll explain that he wants them as his spouse, and that they're going to be together. They can try to resist, but they should know up front that they won't be able to stop him or run from him. This may be a proposal, but they don't get to say no.

He's even got some things prepared so it's like a pseudo ninja village ceremony for couples, like a handmade patch with the village crest to attach to their wedding kimonos. He's also got a few needles tipped with sedatives and/or aphrodisiacs to keep them from struggling; he could easily subdue them, but it's such a pain. They should be as eager to be with him as he is to he with them!

The aphrodisiacs also help cover up his lack of experience, lol. He also doesn't want to turn them off with that weird grin of his that he's insecure about, so the aphrodisiacs could help with that too. Despite not having much experience, he's a very quick learner. He's observant and has intimate knowledge of human anatomy, after all.

Instead of kidnapping them to take them to his place, he's more likely to move himself into their place. He's constantly on the move and he doesn't like them being alone in a place unfamiliar to them. If they're the type to try and escape, he'll spend as much time as possible "training" them to accept being his spouse: keeping them restrained, daily pricks with drugged needles and tea to keep them compliant, etc.

But he also uses positive reinforcement! Gifts and privileges, affection, anything he can use to entice them into obeying him. He's also VERY good at turning their body against them if they deny his advances. He'll hold them down and in just a few seconds of using his fingers or tongue, they'll go from pushing him and turning away to panting and spreading their legs when he murmurs for them to do so. He can play their body like an instrument, and he insists it's further proof that he's the best suitor they could ever want.

Loooves bondage and shibari. Something about his Darling being tied up, with his ropes and threads hugging their body so exquisitely while they squirm just turns him on so MUCH.

He also likes having them ride him every so often, though he's always the one in control...unless Darling manages to put him in his place. Expect a hell of a fight though, because he is a brat and can move at the speed of sound lmao. Once they submit to him and get a bit of Stockholm Syndrome, he gets so turned on by the way he can beckon them with just one finger and a Look, and they immediately crawl into his lap with a shy smile.

He can get so clingy and needy out of fucking nowhere, again much like a cat. He'll pout if they don't give him enough attention and will interrupt whatever they're doing so they have to give him what he wants. He isn't really used to affection so now that he has a steady supply (from an unwilling participant, but I digress), he'll want to indulge in it when he gets that urge to be pampered.

If you manage to piss him off and disobey him to the point of needing punishment, he is a cold, COLD bastard. Edging with no relief, spanking, tying you up or even using a device like a pillory to humiliate you, berating you, etc. If sexual punishment isn't what you need to stay in line, he'll threaten to kill any and all of your loved ones. All he has to do is show them candid pictures he took of them outside their home, describe their daily routine in detail, and ask quietly if he needs to make them disappear. No? Then that must mean you're going to be good, right?

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #.sonic #yandere sonic #yandere one punch man #.opm #.myshit #yandere opm

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eddiemunson-fanfic · 2 years

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You're safe with me

Eddie Munson x Plus Size FM! Reader

Warnings: nightmares/night terrors, hand kink, oral (m/f receiving), squirting, spanking.

Summary: Eddie needs help after the thing with Vecna went down. People are still looking for him, and he needs help keeping hidden from the town. Dustin asks you to help, because he knows you have a safe space where no one in town will know he’s hiding. Dustin and you built that place when you were kids, and it’s in the woods behind your house. Stuff goes down, and things get heated between the two of you. Who knew you could be such a slut?

You were sitting at home, clutching onto the walkie, waiting for the gang to come back from their mission of destroying Vecna. You hoped that they would make it. You were sick of all the murders that’s been happening lately. And especially because Eddie got the blame for it. If only the town knew how soft he actually was, they would be ashamed of themself. But because of Jason nasty ass Carver, they didn’t believe any of you that Eddie wasn’t the one to blame. You got startled when suddenly someone spoke into the walkie.

“We got a huge problem” you heard Dustin say into the walkie talkie. You felt something shift in your gut by the way Dustin sounded. He sounded very distressed, and it made you feel uneasy by the way he spoke.

You picked up the walkie, and pressed the button. “What’s up, Dusty?” you called out to him. It went silent for a few seconds, and you started to freak out. You pressed the button again, and called out to anyone on the other line. “Nance? Steve? Robin? Anyone?” you called, and the walkie was just static when you didn’t talk into it. “For fuck sake”, you said to yourself. And the walkie came to life again.

“We need help! right fucking now!” Robin spoke into the walkie, and you got freaked out by how stressed she too sounded. “What? What’s wrong?” you answered back.

“You still got that medical license right?” Steve suddenly said, and you could hear how scared he was. Fuck. This wasn’t good.

“Who the fuck is hurt?!” you mostly screamed into the walkie, and you could feel your lungs tighten by any second that went past. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You didn’t wanna have to use your medical license at all.

“Eddie is down bad!” Dustin spoke into the walkie, and you could feel your heart aching.

“Come to my house!” you said, and ran outside to wait for them, not caring if they gave you any other messages before they arrived.

When they arrived, your heart sank. Eddie was not looking good at all, and you rushed them into your house, making them lay him on top of your dining table.

You rushed to get his shirt off him, and you could see he was really beaten up. Blood all over. You touched one of the places where the blood was piling up, and he groaned under your touch. He was barely responsive to what was happening.

“Get my medical supply in my room, Dustin!” you barked orders at them. “Steve, liquor cabinet, vodka straight!” you barked “Nance, Robin, cloths and towels!”

They all ran to get whatever you wanted them to, and while you were alone with Eddie you tried to get him to talk to you. He gurgled on his own blood, and you laid him on his side so he didn’t choke more than necessary. “It’s ok, you’re safe now” you said, trying to calm him down. A single tear ran down his face. You could see he was in awful pain. But you pressed down on the wound that didn’t stop bleeding.

“Here” Dustin, Nance, Robin and Steve said, handing you the stuff you needed.

“Someone hold him still while I try to close this wound” you ordered, picking up some needle and thread, ready to close up his wound. You cleaned it first as good as you could manage, good thing Eddie was barely conscious, or else it would be a pain in the ass to work on him. You closed up the wound and when you were done, you examined his body to make sure he didn’t need any more stitches. But to no luck, he needed some stitches on his neck too. You started to work, and when you were done, you looked down at him. He seemed peaceful right now.

You asked them to help you get him to your couch, so he could lay a bit more comfortable. Everyone helped you get him to your couch, and you made sure they laid him down carefully. You got him out of his bloody shirt, and laid a blanket over him so he didn’t get cold.

“What actually happened?” you asked them, and Dustin started to cry.

“He’s stable now?” he asked you, tears brimming his eyes. You nodded at him, and held out your arms so he could get a hug. He ran into your arms, starting to sob.

“I was sure he was gonna die” he sobbed into your chest. This made everyone else in the room join you in a tight embrace.

“He’s safe now” you cooed Dustin, trying to calm him down. “But can someone please explain how he got those wounds?” you asked, and everyone sighed.

“Demobats” Steve said, and you cringed, remembering the first time Steve, Nancy, Robin and Eddie went into the upside down in lovers lake. When Steve got back after some demo bats took a bite out of his abdomen. You had to stitch up Steve then, and you wished that day that that would be the last time you had to stitch anyone of the group up because of those damn bats.

“I’m just happy he’s alive” you said, looking back at Eddie, who were seeming to wake up again. You walked to him slowly, sitting down beside him.

He woke up, sitting up like he had a nightmare. You held onto his shoulder, signaling that you were there with him.

“Hey, it’s ok” you cooed, making him look around in distress before he hunched in pain.

“I have some pills to ease the pain if you want” you asked him, making him look at you. He winced in pain when he turned to look at you, but he smiled. “That would be nice” he coughed, which made you rush into the bathroom to get some antibiotics and morphine.

“Here” you said, handing him the pills when you returned to him, a bottle in hand for him to swallow the pills. He tried sitting up, which made him wince even more from pain. You grimaced, feeling sorry for him. You helped him sit up, supporting him, while he took the pills, and helping him lay down again.

“We need somewhere to keep him hidden” Dustin suddenly said from across the room, pacing back and forth. You turned to look at him. “And where would that be?” you asked, looking at him. The others looked at him too, quizzically, wondering what he meant.

“People are still gonna look for him, he’s not safe” Dustin suddenly said. “He can’t stay at my place” Steve, Nance and Robin said in unison. You huffed. This wasn’t good.

“I don’t know if it’s safe here either” You said, and Dustin looked at you and grinned. “What?” you asked, shaking your head at him, laughing a little by how stupid he looked grinning like that.

“The cabin!” he exclaimed, and you didn’t understand right away what he meant. “Reefer Rick is not safe either” you said, remembering that Jason and his friends found him there.

“No, not Reefer Rick!” he said, coming closer to you, looking into your eyes. Eddie coughed in the background, wincing once more from pain.

“The cabin!” he exclaimed once more, and you looked at him, confused. “The one we built!” he exclaimed again, looking at you, grinning like crazy. It suddenly clicked.

“Yes! That would absolutely work!” you exclaimed, and the others were looking at you very confused. “My dad helped me fix electricity and made it liveable back there a few years back because of my mom being a bitch about me still living at home at the age of 17” you said, smiling at Dustin. He smiled back at you, and looked back over to Eddie.

“No one knows about it but my dad, and my dad supports Eddie, I talked to him about it when it first went down” you said, smiling at Eddie. Eddie looked up at you, and he tried his best to smile.

~~~~~~~~

“You sure I can stay here?” Eddie said, looking around the tiny cabin while you and Steve held him up, helping him walk the entire way. You patted his chest carefully, and smiled. “Of course you can!” you said, looking around the tiny cabin yourself.

It was clear that someone used to sleep there, because the bed was made, and there were dishes in the sink. “I’m the only one who comes out here” you said, and you could feel Eddie relax.

“Help me get him to the bed” Steve said, slowly dragging you with him, helping Eddie over to the bed. Eddie sat down carefully in the bed, and looked around. It was pretty neat. Some metal band posters were hanging on the wall, the cabin smelled like you, and he felt at peace sitting there.

“It got everything you need” you said, making eye contact with Eddie while Nance and Robin looked around. “you got everything you need in the bathroom, I’ll just steal some of my dad’s soap for shower, and I’ll find some of my old clothes you can wear” you said, smiling at him. “If you need anything at all, you can always call me on the walkie” you said, handing him your spare walkie. He smiled at you, and nodded, not able to speak fully yet.

“I’ll be just a few meters away, and my bedroom window is overlooking the entire yard, and the way to this cabin” you said, seeing he relaxed while you reassured that he was safe.

“Thank you” he whispered, tears clear in his eyes. You leaned into him, and gave him a soft hug. “No need to thank me” you said, tapping his arm. He exhaled hard, trying to lay down in the bed.

“Ok, we better get going before our parents loose their shit” Steve said, while Nancy, Robin and Dustin stood by him, ready to leave. Dustin walked back to you, hugging you. “Please take care of him” he whispered in your ear, pulling back from the hug. You held him at arm's length, and nodded. “I will” you mouthed towards him.

“We’ll check up on you when we can, man” Steve announced to Eddie. Eddie replied by showing him a thumbs up, and they left.

You sat there in silence for a while, before you stood up, wanting to clean up the space a bit. You felt Eddie’s arm on your wrist, pulling you slightly towards him. “Don’t leave me” he whispered, looking at you, and you touched his arm with your free hand. “I will never leave if you don’t want me too” you said, smiling at him. “I’m just gonna clean up this place a bit, and maybe order some food” you smiled “You hungry?” you asked him, looking down at him. He nodded.

~~~~~~~~

After the pizza was delivered, and you sat there, thinking about how lucky they were to bring him back just in time. You sat there, staring at Eddie without even knowing, just thinking about how broken you would feel if you didn’t have the chance to help him in any sort of way.

“You ok?” he asked, turning his body towards you, wincing a bit from the pain of moving his body like that. “hmm?” you said, totally zoning out, not noticing that he spoke to you.

“You ok?” he asked once more, leaning over to touch your hand. You shook your head, as to get out of your head and focus on him. “Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m all good” you smiled at him, looking down at your hand, which was now in his embrace. You studied how the veins on his arm came to view, and your thighs clenched together automatically. Well, now you know you have a hand kink. You heard some quiet mumbling in the background, but you didn’t listen at all as you studied how his veins danced under his skin, how his hand was so much larger than your own, how his hand would feel touching other parts of your body, how it would feel if he slapped and choked you. You felt that tingly feeling you used to get when you started to get horny. Oh shit.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when he suddenly pulled his hand away from yours, and you looked up at him and could see he was smiling at you.

“Hmm? You said?” you asked, remembering he told you something while you zoned out again. “You’re really not with me today, huh?” he chuckled, shaking his head out of laughter. You suddenly felt really small. He was your damn friend, you shouldn’t fantasize about him like you just did. Get it together for god's sake.

“I said thank you for helping me earlier” he said, making eye contact with you. Oh shit, those eyes of his. They were beautiful. How have you not noticed until now? They were the perfect kind of chocolate eyes. They danced under the soft light in the cabin.

“Oh, absolutely no problem!” you smiled back at him. And bam. Silence again. He laid down in bed again, and you tried to focus on anything else besides the thought that you wanted to just lay beside him, maybe touch him a little, make him feel good.

Jeeze, where were these thoughts coming from? Why were you all of a sudden so damn thirsty? What was it with this guy that made your thoughts go all crazy? You almost didn’t recognize your own head at this moment.

You coughed and went to clean up after the meal you had. Tossing the pizza box in the trash, cleaning up the paper plates you used to have the pizza on. And suddenly, out of nowhere you heard him moan. You thought that your ears deceived you, and looked back at him. He was laying there, lightly snoring, touching himself on the outside of his pants. You could clearly see his erection bulging in his pants. Holy fucking shit.

You pinched yourself to make sure that you were awake. Shit, it hurt. Guess this was actually happening, shit.

You needed to get out of there before you did something you definitely shouldn’t do. You pulled the blanket over him, sat a glass of water beside him and the walkie you gave him, and turned down the lights, and walked into your house again.

You needed a shower after that. Holy shit.

~~~~~~~~~~

After your shower, you felt like a new person. You needed to clear your head, and that really helped. You were home alone, so you walked around in just a lace bra and matching lace panties. You walked down to the kitchen to get something to drink when the walkie suddenly went off.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” it was Eddie, he seemed distressed, and you got chills all over your body. You picked up the walkie and pressed the button. “Yeah Eds, I’m here, you good?” you asked, turning the tap on your faucet, waiting for the water to get cold.

“No, can you come?” he asked, his voice shaky. “I’ll be there in a sec” you said, turning off the water, forgetting that you were thirsty, and went up to your room to get your robe.

You walked out to Eddie, knocking on the door.

“Come in” he said, and you did. You walked into the room, and you could see he was sweating, he was sitting up in bed when you walked in. You walked up to him and touched his forehead to make sure he wasn’t sick. He surprised you by snaking his arms around your waist and leaning into you, sobbing.

You didn’t know what to do, so the only thing you did was pat his head softly. This made him sob even harder, embracing you harder, making you fall onto his lap. You didn’t care about it at all, and just straddled his lap, making him hug you tighter.

He just sobbed into your stomach for a while, while you tried to calm him down by playing softly with his hair. You don’t know how long you sat there, but you started to get sore for sitting in one position for too long. You wiggled a bit, and he eased up on the hold he had on you. He leaned back, and sniffled a bit.

“I’m so sorry” he sniffed, looking up at you with puffy eyes. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable” he said, looking down at your lap. You chuckled, reaching down to dry a tear that was falling down his cheek. “It’s all good” you cooed at him, and he exhaled a hard breath. He probably held it in to calm himself down.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” you said, still sitting in his lap, his hands were still draped around your waist.

“I had a nightmare about…” he hesitated. “I feel so stupid, but I..” he hesitated a bit more. “I dreamt that Vecna killed you.” he sniffled, and your heart broke a bit, seeing how distressed he was. You pulled his head upwards to make him look at you.

“I’m right here.” You smiled at him. “I’m not going anywhere” you smiled, and he smiled back, still a bit upset by the dream, but he relaxed when you said that. You sat there in comfortable silence, just listening to how his breath was slowing down, and his entire body started to relax again. Still sitting in his lap. He was laying his head on your chest, still hugging you tight to him.

“Can you lay with me tonight?” he asks shyly, and you smile. You would love to. “I need to get something else to sleep in” you spoke, and he looked up at you. You couldn’t read his expression at all, and wondered what he was thinking, until he checked you out.

“It’s okay for me, if you feel comfortable, but I won't stop you changing if you feel like it” he said, shrugging his shoulders. You looked down at him, and smiled.

“Lay down then” you said, motioning for him to lay down, while you climbed off his lap. He did as you told him, while you walked over to the closet and pulled out a bigger blanket to sleep with and some pillows.

He watched you the entire time, not missing a single beat of your steps while you walked around the cabin, finding stuff you needed to lay down in bed with him. You tossed everything you found beside him, and went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “You want some?” you asked, showing him a bottle, and he nodded.

You closed the fridge and walked over to him, handing him the bottle before you walked over to your side of the bed. You took your bottle and drank half of it before you put it down on the floor.

“I hope you’re ok I only sleep with underwear, I get so damn hot if not” you said to him, and his eyes went big, until they settled again. He just nodded, drinking from his bottle. “Turn, don’t peak” you said, knowing fully that he probably would look either way. But he turned, giving you space to take off your robe and lay down in bed.

“Nighty Eds” you said, cuddling up to yourself, feeling a bit chilly under the cold blanket, yawning a bit. “You wanna cuddle to keep warm?” he asked, pulling his blanket over him, turning to you, opening his arm so you could cuddle into him.

“Blanket and all will be here” he said, reassuring you. You pulled yourself into his chest, and felt at ease. He was so warm and soft, and he smelled amazing, even if he hadn’t showered. He smelled like his signature perfume and cigarettes. He draped his arm around you, pulling you closer.

~~~~~~~~

You must have dozed off sometime, because you could barely remember where you were when the sun shined through the window, waking you up. You could feel some hands draped around you, and you were flush with some soft skin with your back. He stirred a little behind you, and you could feel his erection press onto your ass from behind. Just the imprint alone made you wet. Feeling him pressed up against you like this, and his warm hand holding onto your waist. You scooted closer to him, and he stirred more behind you.

“Mmm” he moaned, pressing himself closer to you. You didn’t say anything. He stroked your stomach, and you could feel the heat rise in your lower belly. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most.

You gasped when his fingers softly ran over your panties, before he pulled his arm away, and rolled over, away from you. You whimpered from the loss of contact, pouting a bit.

You laid there, listening to him moan to himself in his sleep while his hips rocked into the mattress. The moans alone were enough to almost make you cum without any contact. You started to slowly touch yourself, pulling your panties to the side, and slipped your finger inside your slit, feeling how wet you were. You gasped by the contact you gave yourself, and kept listening to Eddie’s moans.

Little did you know that he was awake too, listening to you touching yourself. Your wetness made a squelching sound as you pumped your fingers inside yourself, pinching a nipple in the process. He was rock hard listening to how wet you were, and he wanted nothing else but to bury himself between your legs.

He touched himself softly on the outside of his boxers, grinding against his hand, moaning a bit more, and it made you gasp higher, moaning in return.

“Oh fuck Eddie” you whispered, and he smiled to himself. He felt crazy just laying there hearing you play with yourself, and he wanted to ask you if it felt good.

“Shit, fuck it” he thought to himself and rolled over, facing you again. You didn’t notice it at first that he was facing you, and you just kept going, fucking yourself on your fingers. Eddie just admired you, enjoying the view.

“Does that feel good?” he blurted out, surprising you. “Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping out of the bed, trying to cover yourself. He just smiled and looked at you. You could strangle him, but deep down you actually enjoyed the thought that he was listening to you. You just wondered how long he had been listening for.

“Don’t stop on my account” he said, trying to reach out for you, but you pulled away, feeling awful.

“I thought it was insanely hot” he smirked, winking at you. “Especially when you moaned my name, got me fucking rock hard” he said, pointing to his erection, and you couldn’t keep yourself from looking. Damn, he was big.

“Don’t bite that lip of yours, tempting me more” he groaned. You didn’t even realize you were biting it until he commented on it.

“I can help you, you know” he said, smiling at you like a goof. You just chuckled and shook your head. “You think that would be ok?” you asked, suddenly all shy.

You squealed, and he was suddenly on top of you, hovering over you, while you laid down in the bed. His erection digging into your thigh, making you horny all over again.

“I wanna taste you” he kissed your neck, sucking lightly. Your hands went up to his hair instinctively. Tugging lightly. It made him moan, and you clenched your legs together, wanting some friction. But to no use since he was in between your thighs.

He kept kissing down your body, and stopped when he came to your tits. His eyes were fascinated by the fabric. “Your tits look so damn nice in these” he said, cupping them both before he motorboated you, making you laugh slightly.

He continued his journey down your body, kissing down your belly, over your belly button, down to your waist, kissing both sides, pulling himself down between your thighs, you could feel his chin on your pelvis.

He kissed down your side softly, making you moan. He kissed your pussy on the outside of your panties, and hummed. “You smell so good” he said, kissing each side of your thighs before he looked up at you. You could melt looking at him between your legs.

“Is it okay if I continue?” he asked, making sure you also were down for this. You nodded at him eagerly, telling him to continue.

He slipped his fingers inside the waistband of your panties, and pulled lightly. You helped with arching your back so he could pull them off you. “So beautiful” he hummed, before he dived into your pussy. Licking from your hole to your clit, making you gasp in pleasure. “Shit” you moaned, making him chuckle against your clit before he pulled it into his mouth, licking vigorously.

“So wet for me” he said, slipping a finger inside your lips, slowly entering a finger, making you gasp, pumping in and out of you softly. “Eddieee” you moaned, pulling his hair, making him chuckle again.

“Eager, huh?” he smiled up at you, inserting another finger, making you squirm under him. He continued his torture on your clit, licking and sucking, while he pumped in and out of you. You could feel the heat return to your lower stomach. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned, making Eddie pump his fingers faster inside of you.

“Cum for me princess” he cooed you on, making you moan harder. Your legs were shaking, breath hitched, and you swear you could see stars as the orgasm went through you.

Eddie pulled his fingers out of you, licking up the juices on his fingers, moaning. “Taste so good” he smiles, and you moan just by the sight of him. He climbed on top of you again, crashing his mouth to yours, embracing you in a heated and craving kiss.

You could feel his erection pulsing, and you draped your hand between you, trying to touch him. He pulled away, and looked at you. “You don’t have to give anything back, you know” he said, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at him. “But I wanna” you said, groping him, making his eyes roll back, his head falling back, and a moan escaping his lips. “Fuck” he moaned, grinding into your hand.

You squeezed him lightly, making him whimper, before you pulled his boxers down, pumping him slowly in your hand. His breath hitched, and his mouth was open in a big O. You smiled to yourself, and admired him.

“Lay down, let me make you feel good” you said, making him look at you. He sent you a smirk, and laid down. “But!” he started, pointing at you. “Only if you sit on my face too” he said, smiling, winking at you.

He didn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him, making you straddle his face.

You squealed, but didn’t hesitate when you looked down at his dick, your mouth watering. You took him in your hand, pumping lightly while you bent down and sucked his leaking tip. He moaned into your pussy, pushing you open with his finger, pumping softly, making you whimper. “Fuck Eds” you moaned, taking his dick as far as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watering as you continued to bump up and down on his shaft. He grabbed your ass and slapped you, making you squirm. You felt the heat of the slap, but didn’t mind it at all, enjoying the stinging feeling of the hit. His hand landed on your ass again, harder this time, and you could feel that it would leave a mark.

You took him all the way down his shaft, and your nose hit his balls. He started to fuck your mouth, and you gagged on his dick. Your eyes watering more and more for each trust he did. His fingers pumping faster, and you could feel the heat again, knowing you were close.

“I’m gonna..” you said in unison, he couldn’t finish his sentence before his load shot down your throat, and your legs started to shake. Making you warm and fuzzy. But damn did he taste good. You made sure that not a single drop was spilled as you pulled your head off him, licking up all the extra juice on your way.

"I think you squirted" he said, and you got off him, looking at his drenched face. "Fuck, sorry" you said, while he licked his lips. "Oh, don't be sorry!" he exclaimed, laughing at you, reaching down to the floor, picking up his t shirt and wipe his face and chest.

You laid beside him, and he laughed, pulling you close to him. He kissed your forehead, and you snuggled into his chest. “Thank you” he said, making you chuckle, and you looked up at him. “For what?” you asked, confusion clear on your face.

“For making me feel safe” he said.

"Anytime" you said, dozing off again, but safe in his arms.

~~~~~~~

Taglist: @eddiemunsonfuxks

I didn't like how this turned out, but I worked for hours on it, so hope you guys like it 😅

86 notes · View notes

19thsentry-blog · 2 years

Text

Worlds Not Our Own

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic (Established Lukanette, Feluka Friendship)

Chapters

In The Shadows | Prelude | Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4 | Chp 5 | Chp 6 | Chp 7 | Chp 8 | Chp 9 | Chp 10 | Chp 11 | Chp 12 | Chp 13 | Chp 14 | Epilogue | New Beat | Timeline

Chapter One: Twilight (AO3 Link)

Chapter Snapshot

If anything, Marinette wanted to go with him, but Luka made the very appealing argument that she had done enough in the past year and deserved to put herself first for once. You know, "Take a break."

People kept telling her she needed it, and part of her wanted that too, but she started getting fidgety every time someone said the word "break" these days, like if she heard it one more damn time she'd finally snap for good and maybe actually work up the nerve to start going out swinging at that one lady in the office who kept eating the last bagel on bagel day SPECIFICALLY so Marinette couldn't have it and Marinette KNEW it was on purpose because that woman would look at her with an insipid sneer on her face because she knew EXACTLY what she was doing and--

"Man," Alix grumbled, "How are you and I the only ones with nothing better to do?" The redhead looked at Rose, who was sitting on the floor next to her in Marinette's room above her parent's bakery. Alix threaded another iridescent purple seed bead on her needle.

"I think it's fun," Rose said, perfectly chipper. "It's like arts and crafts, but we get to help Marinette at the same time!" Rose discarded a bead with a hole too small to fit the needle through and dug around the plastic case at her side for a new one.

"I really appreciate both of you being here," Marinette said for the 80th time that day. "Really, really, really appreciate it." She snatched up a pin that had fallen on the ground and stuck it on the plump red and black pin cushion strapped around her wrist. Truthfully, she wanted to pull her hair out, and with every hour that passed, Marinette had to resist the urge to do just that. At this rate, she was going to wind up bald before the tender age of 19, and then she'd have to buy wigs for the rest of her life, and while she didn't know a lot about wigs, they sounded expensive. Maybe she could go with a scarf instead. A scarf was safe, and very Parisian.

Yards of fabric in every shade of purple sat between the three of them, a disastrous pile of mauve, lilac, heliotrope, orchid, violet, and indigo--that, and hundreds of seed beads and way, way too much ambition. Someday she might call it a dress that was worthy of Miss Janine's harsh eye. Today? It was her worst nightmare. Only the top of the bodice had been adequately beaded and embroidered. The rest was a work in progress between her and her trusty assistants, Alix, who was good with attention to detail and needles when she wasn't too busy complaining, and Rose, a lover of all things DIY and crafty.

The Kwamis had long ago zonked out and retreated to the Miracle Box when they realized that the only action taking place was hours of mind-numbing beading. It was easier now that her friends knew exactly who she was--she'd been able to trust them all with a Miraculous at some point; it wasn't that big of a deal for them to know her secret identity now that the threat was over with. It's not like they would tell anyone. Of course, there was someone else who knew her secret identity that she didn't trust as far as she could throw him…but Félix technically had been a holder at one point, so somehow he also followed that rule.

Marinette held the rest of the half-sewn bodice in her hands, gently tugging the needle through to put a new bead in its place along the rib cage of the garment. Alix was the only one who hadn't actually been given a Miraculous yet, but she'd learned long ago that someday she would be. Or had those futures all been canceled out? Marinette was positive that there was supposed to be a new Hawk Moth in the future Bunnyx had come from--and technically, there had been, although Amélie was responsible for handing back the Butterfly and Peacock in the first place. Would Alix ever really hold the Rabbit Miraculous if the threat had been resolved? Or did this just mean that down the line, Marinette would wind up losing a Miraculous again? It hurt her brain to think about. Either way, Alix was an honorary holder and was already good at keeping secrets, so she was definitely in the club.

"Soooo, how are things with Harry?" Rose asked, peeking at Alix from behind the mannequin that obstructed her vision.

Alix shifted uncomfortably. "Uh. Yeah. We broke up." She stabbed her needle into her section of the skirt of the dress a little clumsily.

"What?! Why? I liked that one!"

"Aw, c'mon Ma, don't give me the third degree," Alix whined. She put the needle between her lips while she fished around for a new bead and spoke around it. "Can't we go back to overanalyzing Marinette's love life instead?"

Rose tutted. "Marinette is very happily in a relationship, and I just want to see you happy."

"I am happy--I'm perfectly happy. Marinette, tell her I'm happy."

Marinette looked to her left, giving Rose a placating smile. "She's happy! See her sitting there with, uh, happiness?" Alix tugged harshly on her needle to pull the bead taut against the skirt--a little too harshly, Marinette winced, "Alix, the dress--"

"I keep telling you, Rose, I'm not built for the whole romance shtick. It's not my thing. Don't want it, don't need it. I have you guys, okay? That's enough for me."

"Everyone deserves romance, Alix." Rose pouted, swirling her finger around hundreds of seed beads that shimmered like scales under the light.

Alix decided to have mercy on Marinette's someday-pride-and-joy, letting her hand drop in her lap. "I'm not saying I don't deserve it. I'm just built different." She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Marinette, when's Luka coming back? I miss giving him shit."

Now there was a topic that put her in both a sweet and sour mood. On the sweet side, anything relating to Luka was of the good and she encouraged it. On the sour, his business currently related to him recruiting Félix to go on a wild goose chase with him halfway across the world instead of staying in Paris with her. She wasn't bitter about it. Not at all. "I'm not sure," she said, voice clipped. Now she was the one abusing her creation, stabbing the needle through the fabric as if it was Félix's big, dumb, stupid head.

She didn't miss the way Alix and Rose looked at each other. Alix cleared her throat. "Hey, uh, Mari? Everything okay over there?"

"Fine! Just fine."

Another bout of silence.

"Because if something's wrong, you know, you can tell us--"

Alix was interrupted by a knock on the attic door. Marinette gave a cursory look around the room to ensure there was hide nor hair of a Kwami visible before answering. "Come in," she said.

"It's just me," Luka's eyes appeared as he lifted the attic trap door, a slight smile on his face.

Even if she was mad at him, she couldn't ignore the butterflies that whipped up in her stomach at the sight of him. That heady, fainty feeling had begun to pass after a few months of being in a relationship, moving toward a sweet, calm sensation instead, but there were still times the butterflies came back in full force.

Rose, the closest to the little trap door, stood immediately. "Luka! We didn't think you'd be back for a while!" She hugged him, hanging off his neck with both arms. She let him go only to lead him to the center of the room where Marinette's beautiful abomination was being worked on, directing him to sit between her and Marinette.

"Negotiations went to shit?" Alix asked, leaning back on her palms.

"He'll come around. I wanted to come home in the meanwhile," he said. Luka's gaze turned to Marinette next, and it was hard to be mad when he was staring at her with that dazzling, brain-melty smile he tended to level her with. She tried to ignore it anyway, focusing on the project beneath her fingertips. The one that really, really needed to get done by this week or she'd be the embarrassment of the century. Her pride as the apprentice at Lavigne was on the line, after all.

"Nothing fun going on here anyway," she said, weaving in another bead. "Just making sure I don't get laughed out of the office."

"No one who looks at this is ever going to laugh you out of the office," Luka said affectionately. He picked up part of the hem of the dress, black-painted fingers gently running over their hours of labor.

"They will if I don't finish it in time for fashion week." Marinette turned her voice nasally, a convincing impression of Chloe, "Oh, look, there goes Marinette Dupain-Cheng, more like Marinette Dupain-lame!" Under no circumstances could she ever allow Chloe to win, even if it was the fake Chloe in her head that told her she was a loser. Besides, Ms Janine was already doing way more for her than any other apprentice, and her pride was majorly on the line here. If she made something that was worthy of her supervisor's shrewd notice, it might be on the stage of Paris's fashion week.

Marinette kind of wanted to throw up if she thought about it for too long. It's not like she expected any of the special treatment her kind-of-coworkers kept saying she was getting; if anything, her supervisor tended to give her more bullshit to handle than anyone else. She made Audrey look like child's play.

Alix snorted. "Oh, please. None of those talentless asshats have anything on you. We'll finish, right Rose?"

"Of course! Even if we have to stay up all night!"

"I mean, I wouldn't go that far--"

Marinette's lip started to wobble.

"Okay, fine, all-nighters all week, whatever you want," Alix huffed. She looked surreptitiously at Luka. "Any chance you'll take me with you?"

He chuckled. "Sorry, don't think there's any getting you out of this one."

Marinette scowled further into her dress, trying to focus on her stitching. It wasn't like she didn't understand why Luka was going to New York--she did. If Mullo's chronic sickness had been cured by some magic potion being sold off to the highest bidder, then there was a good chance that some kind of Miraculous or other power was being exploited. It wasn't like that sat right with her. If anything, she had wanted to go with him, but Luka made the very appealing argument that she had done enough in the past year and deserved to put herself first for once. You know, "Take a break."

Okay, so maybe she was a little strung up right now. Point being, work was hard to keep up with these days. Especially because Marinette's hours out of the office were consumed with the nightmare currently beneath her fingertips, all in hopes that Miss Janine would make good on her deal to let her show it on the runway and with Juleka as her model. The whole thing would be a win-win for everybody. It was just...hard to do that and still be Ladybug for Paris. She didn't want people to think that she just disappeared now that Hawk Moth was gone.

Even worse, Luka was leaving to go on his own wild goose chase, and he was taking her kind-of-nemesis with him. While she didn't love Adrien anymore, that didn't mean she automatically forgave Félix for being a jerk for seemingly no reason for all those years. Marinette had to admit that being one of the few people to know Félix's secret was a big reason she trusted him with hers; plus, she did pity him for it, and she knew he'd hate that pity. He had said a lot of awful stuff she didn't want to think about, but knowing what she knew...Marinette was mostly willing to let it lay.

She did understand why Luka wanted Félix to go with him. If his weird, creepy uncle was the one going out and selling this miracle potion stuff for whoever he worked for, it made sense for Luka to ask Félix for help tracking the guy down. Her brain understood the logic and why it was necessary; she and Luka had talked it over for months. What was really hurting was the stuff that Luka wasn't telling her. There was a moment after Emelie's funeral when Félix had rounded on them like a poison cloud, and it was obvious there was some kind of understanding between Luka and Félix that she just… didn't get, no matter how many times he tried to explain it. And, yeah, maybe she was still a bit insecure about how little she knew about Luka.

Luka had lived over 140 years. Obviously there would be things about his life he wouldn't have time to open up about to her. It wasn't like they'd been dating for all that long (and if she was honest, there had been a lot of, uh, physical intimacy that she'd been delighting in, and that took…time. Lots of time.). But still, Félix knew things about Luka that she didn't, and that just didn't sit right with her.

That, and she saw it every once and awhile, this incredibly far-off look that would draw over Luka's face, and it was like he was so far from her that she'd never catch up. Marinette fixated on that look, and part of her was just desperate to know--where did it take him? What was it like? What kinds of things was he thinking about?

"Luka, I have the worst news," Rose said, gripping Luka's arm with a newfound sense of urgency that snapped Marinette out of her very unproductive thoughts. "Alix broke up with Harry! Isn't that the saddest thing?"

"Uh--"

Alix snapped. "Rose!"

Rose snapped back. "I just want you to be happy, gosh darn it, why are you so hard headed--"

"He wasn't the guy, okay! I tried!"

Luka cut in, a likely stupid attempt to cool the fires. He wrapped an arm around Rose, half to hug her, the other half holding her back. "Rose, isn't the fun thing about stuff like that when it happens naturally? Give Alix some breathing room, okay? You can't try to force something that's not going to work."

Alix snorted. "Yeah, especially when it's not your damn love life. Keep your digits out of it. I mean it." She wagged her sewing needle in Rose's face before getting back to work.

Rose sniffed, sagging against Luka slightly. "I worry about you, Alix. It has to be lonely."

"Well, it's not." Alix stood, and several seed beads that had fallen in her lap during the past few hours clattered to the ground, skittering across the floor. "I'm getting mean. I need food." She stomped to the trap door and descended to the apartment below.

"Alix, wait!" Rose said, scrambling to escape Luka's arm and give chase.

"Maybe now's not the best ti--" Luka's words of warning were left hanging in the air, Rose having already slipped away, darting down the stairs. "I don't think that's going to end well," he said, grimacing at the open trap door.

Marinette adjusted the fabric in her lap to start on a new section. "Probably not," she agreed, trying to keep any remaining melancholy out of her voice. It didn't work. It never did.

Luka tucked her bangs behind her ear. "You're still conflicted," he said. There was no judgment in his tone, no pain. Just fact and an invitation to talk about it, even though he surely must be tired of it. She certainly was. But she hadn't been entirely honest with him all the previous times they had this discussion, which was probably why she still felt awful about it all.

Marinette bit her lip, wincing when the skin tugged a little harder than she expected. "Were you ever lonely?" she asked. The answer had to be yes, but Marinette wasn't sure how else to start the conversation. She just wanted to close the gap that seemed insistent on wedging its way between them.

His hand stroked the back of her head, but it paused for a moment. He tilted his head, dark blue hair falling slightly over his eyes. "Sometimes," Luka said. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reach in his pocket for a guitar pick--Luka usually fiddled with something when he was thinking, and if he didn't have an instrument in his hands, a guitar pick was usually the next thing he went for.

"Sometimes out of over 140 years is still kind of a lot, isn't it?"

His lips quirked up. "Yeah, I guess so. Although I don't think I'm the kind of person to wallow, or I try not to be. I wasn't always so great about that in the past."

Marinette wound purple thread around her finger and pulled it tight, just enough to see the skin around it turn slightly white before she let the line slack again. She remembered another time like this, when she'd felt wary of poking too far into his private life. The two of them had been sitting on top of the Eiffel Tower, utterly unaware of the other's identity, and he told her about his friend, the one he'd recorded in the Spellbook. She had been curious then, and the need to get closer to him now doubled that intensity.

"So, the times in between then, were there ever--was there ever, um," Marinette let out an exasperated sigh. This wouldn't be so hard if they'd ever broached the subject, but they hadn't. Luka never tried to hide things from her, but he usually didn't spend much time talking about himself and didn't really seem sure how to talk about his life. At least not the way Marinette did. God, she was so self-centered sometimes--it's not like she could help it. Her mouth just always wanted to fill the silence with something, whereas Luka was more content to let the silence hang around or listen to her blab on about nothing.

"What's bothering you?" he asked, sensing her hesitation.

She huffed a laugh. "Okay, I'm trying really hard to covertly ask about your exes, and it's me, so it's not going well."

"Oh," Luka sat blinking at her, a momentarily bewildered look on his face. She probably took him on a total 180 of what he thought she would say. That was another thing she tended to do, but he always recovered so fast it didn't seem like he minded when she did it. "Um, I guess…" Luka frowned, eyebrows drawing down as he thought. "There was this girl when I was maybe eight--"

"That's not what I meant!"

He laughed when she punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Well, you have to be more specific. Or less specific. Ex means everyone agreed on the relationship tag, right?"

"I refuse to believe I'm your first girlfriend since you were eight, Luka."

Luka ducked his head, looking slightly bashful. "You're the only one who's used the label before."

Marinette's heart clenched, and she knew she was being stupid. Really, really stupid. And it was an absolute relief. She wasn't dumb enough to think that he didn't have any lovers before her, and she still had plenty of questions about what Félix knew that she didn't, but she at least felt secure enough with herself to let him go.

"Alright, I believe you," she said, feeling clear-headed enough to string another bead along her line and start to sew it on. "But I want to hear more about…well, you. I want to know what your life was like in the way you know all about mine." It wasn't like she told him this stuff very eloquently, and he did have the benefit of living her life with her and seeing it firsthand, but they had to start somewhere.

And then, because she could, she tacked on, "And you better be serious about being back before this monstrosity is on the runway, or else." She didn't specify what the 'or else' was. The threat wasn't needed, but she liked keeping her options open.

Luka tucked her head under his chin, a fond smile on his face. "Done and done, I promise. Or else."

Adrien walked Julian through the next exercise on the keyboard, going slow enough that the boy next to him could follow. His glasses dipped slightly on his nose, and Julian had to lift his left hand from the keyboard to set it right again, stoic concentration unbroken on his face. It reminded Adrien of Max when he was younger, leaning over his desk in middle school to work on a robotics project hidden behind his backpack. Miss Bustier must have known that's what he was doing, but she always let him get away with it.

"Think you got it?" Adrien asked, lifting his hands off the keys slightly.

Julian nodded. "Yeah. Let me try on my own."

The tempo was slightly off, Julian's hands still uncertain when he had to pivot from his thumb, but otherwise he was doing well for his second lesson. He was already trying to self-correct when his fingers went flat, moving them back to a gently curved shape. Malo ducked his head into the practice room from the main shop, flipping a thumbs-up up and down. Adrien gave him a thumbs-up and a nod, letting him know everything was going alright. He was still just a part-time employee, but he and Julian were figuring it out together.

This was his first real job. He'd modeled for years, of course, but it was hard to consider that a job when he'd been in front of a camera since he was two. Alya and Nino had helped him with his resume when he first moved out of his father's house, and it had been a thoroughly terrifying experience. They both had plenty of suggestions, but all of them sounded like a lie because none of it seemed like an achievement. Alya eventually gave up on him having much to add and wrote it all up herself--he was the perfect person on paper. If he wanted to model, that was, and he definitely didn't.

He wasn't getting paid by the bucketful at Paradis des Cordes, but it was enough to pay Nino rent and make up for groceries with money that wasn't technically his father's (he hated using the trust fund, but it kind of had its uses, especially now). Besides, he liked the work, and the longer he stayed on as a stop-gap employee, the more it felt like it could turn into something permanent. Adrien didn't think he qualified as a proper piano teacher, but Malo was willing to give him a shot after the heartfelt letters of recommendation from his school and private piano instructors. It would be stupid of him to think that Luka didn't have some kind of hand in it, too, although they didn't talk that much. Adrien hadn't spent a lot of time with Luka and Marinette since everything happened--it was hard enough to get his head and heart to behave normally without willingly throwing himself into that sort of situation.

"There's some tension in your shoulders," Adrien said, drawing a hand to the center of Julian's back, barely pressing the tip of his pointer finger between his shoulder blades. "Try to pause and shake it off before starting again."

Julian nodded, rolling his shoulders before he started again. Adrien tried to shake off his own tension. He didn't like bringing it in here. They walked through a few more exercises until Julian's mother appeared in the doorway, knocking a few times on the archway.

"Hey bud, you ready?" She asked.

Julian's face lit up like city lights at twilight. "Yes, just a minute, Mom."

Adrien got up from the bench and walked toward the door, giving Julian time to pack up his practice books. Julian's mother adjusted the hair that sat like a crown on her head, careful not to mess with the baby hairs styled in careful swoops along her forehead and temples. "How's he coming along?" she whispered, looking around Adrien's head to catch glimpses of her son.

"Great. He's really determined--that goes a long way," Adrien said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"That's my boy," she said under her breath, a small smile on her lips as she started digging through her purse for her phone. She stopped looking when Julian came up to them. "You have fun?"

"I did," he said, taking her hand and readjusting his backpack on his left shoulder. "Can we hang out tonight?"

"Aw, baby, I have to go back to work after this," she said with a grimace. "How about tomorrow--we'll hang out and watch a movie. We can even go out to dinner." She waved at Adrien as she spun Julian around toward the door of the shop. "I heard you in there; you were doing amaaa-ha-zing!"

Adrien watched them go after waving back, head resting on the doorframe. It was the small things he missed about his parents. After his mother passed, there were only a handful of moments he could remember as positive, loving times with his dad--everything else had been sterile of any kind of familial intimacy. It was too hard to think about, to really reason through it all. Rather than move on, his father chose to live in a world where he closed his son out and lashed out at the entire city. Adrien couldn't end up like that. He wouldn't end up like that.

Staying in the past was not acceptable. Adrien would move forward, no matter how hard it hurt. Or how uncomfortable. Adrien left the room, taking a right down the hallway instead of a left to the store. He could hear Sophia up front, ringing people out behind the cash register. The door at the end of the hall was Malo's workshop, and after knocking once, Adrien stepped inside.

The room was sizeable--the right wall was fitted with shelving that slanted up, holding rows and rows of mahogany, rosewood, maple, and spruce. In the back were various power tools for cutting the lumber to size and a large glue real that looked a lot like a giant rolodex, or maybe a Ferris wheel. The rest of the space was taken up by shelving with metal clamps and wires, miscellaneous tools, and work benches. Malo looked up from the shell of the guitar he was crafting, hands carefully tracing the stencil on the wood below. "Hey, you outta here?" His voice was slightly muffled by the mask he had on.

Adrien nodded. "Yes. I just wanted to let you know it went well before I left."

Malo continued his work, long fingers dragging a drafting pencil along the wood. "Knew it would, but appreciate it all the same. Luka's rarely wrong about folks. I think you're doing well here. You like it?"

"It's fun, a lot more fun than playing alone. I think I like teaching more than I do playing."

Malo huffed a laugh. "Well, that's good. I can't keep up with the little tykes. Thought I'd pull my hair out when Jean left us. You think you'd want to start this as a full-time gig?"

The thought was a daunting one, but exciting at the same time. Adrien had lived most of his life carrying out the schedule Nathalie and his father drafted up for him--the things he wanted to do were to be squeezed in on the wayside or just discarded. There were very few big things Adrien had ever had the agency to decide for himself: 1) go to public school and 2) move out, and that was about it. Although, deciding what he would eat each day had taken more effort than he expected. But he wanted to build himself into who he wanted to be, and this seemed like a better start than he could have hoped for.

"Yeah, I think I would," he said, excitement blooming in his chest right next to fear.

"Good, 'cause I already put you on the schedule. See you tomorrow," Malo said, easy as could be, waving his pencil in the air by way of goodbye.

"See you tomorrow!" Adrien had to stop himself from skipping down the hallway like he was five.

Nino was waiting for him outside, eyes covered from the sunshine by his cap while he browsed his phone. He looked up when he heard the shop door open, a smile burgeoning on his face when he saw Adrien. "Hey dude, finally free?"

"As a bird," Adrien said, taking up a leisurely pace with Nino while they walked down the street.

"Rad, I was thinkin' we could get in some guy time, you know? Really live up to the Adrien Freedom Act of 2016. 'Cause, you know, it's weird, now that we're living together it's like we hang out less, you know? I was just telling Alya that it seems like that. I was like, man, Adrien is my best bro, and it's like--"

Adrien listened on, a slow smile working its way onto his lips. Nino was trying to give him all the space he needed to decide what he wanted to do, but it was time to get off his couch. "Nino?"

Nino's head snapped up. "Yeah man, what's up?" He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing dramatically.

"Malo is going to start me on full-time. I think it's time I look for a real place."

Nino let out a whoosh of air, putting a hand to his chest. "Oh, man, I am stoked for you, dude. Alya's gonna flip--she's been hassling me about helping you find a place, 'cause I love you, we love you, but the whole not traumatizing my best bro with, uh, noises has been rough."

Adrien's nose scrunched up. "Thanks for thinking of me."

Nino gave his back a few hearty pats. "Anytime, bro, anytime. So--she had a few places in mind…"

Rinchen pressed against the woman in her arms with a sultry swing of her hips, their toes tapping a beat (left, right, front, don't think, only move, left, right, back). Her hair brushed against her exposed lower back, tickling like the breath of a lover on her skin. The lights in the jazz club were down low, a dark blue haze lighting up only the stage and the exits; it reflected off the large mirrors on the walls and the geometric gold paneling on the ceiling. Another couple got a little too close, running up against the two of them, brushing against sleeves and skin. No one minded—they just split back away, back to their own separate world punctuated by the saxophone and drums.

She could feel a bead of sweat work its way down her neck, trailing along the drop necklace between her collarbone. Rinchen lifted her arms, letting them sway in the air for a moment before lazily clapping and dropping them back down low on her partner's hips. She didn't know her name. She didn't need to. She needed the heady scent of vanilla and cinnamon, the slim body that fit in her arms, the freedom of her.

The woman pressed her lips on the swan curve of Rinchen's neck, covertly dragging the dull tips of her teeth along her skin. The hum of pleasure that nearly escaped her lips died when she saw the man standing at the back exit door.

Rinchen stepped back, flipping the switch back off. "I'm sorry, dove, I'm afraid my ride is here," she said, turning without looking back. The woman didn't stop her, nor did she expect her to.

Rinchen weaved through the dance floor to the back, where the non-descript, mousey man with ash brown hair waited for her. He shook out her fur coat with an overly friendly smile and held it by the shoulders, allowing her to turn and slip her arms through. She buttoned it over her purple body con dress, and the warmth of it was oppressive in the club.

"Mighty fine gal you had there. Sorry to interrupt," Ian said, opening the door for her.

Her heels clicked on the concrete as she walked to the black Honda Accord parked near the street. "You've heard back then?"

"Indeed I did. I came to get you the second I got the call."

Rinchen found that Ian worked best as an automatic door opener. He jogged slightly ahead to open the back car door for her on the driver's side. She slithered inside, adjusting her hair over her shoulder so that it didn't tug behind her back.

"I must say, I'm not quite sure what all the hubbub is about. There's not much you could find out there that you can't find right here, you know what I mean?" Ian chuckled to himself and closed her door, then got in the driver's seat. He buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition, keys jangling together as he did so. "I suppose that's why you're the woman in charge, huh?"

She didn't need to answer that. Ian could be blatantly stupid, but he had his uses. She long ago suspected it was all an act, anyway. No Trajkovski could be so dull, and Ian was an excellent actor. "The boy I want--you'll have him?"

Ian pulled out of the side street and turned left with the flow of traffic. New York's skyscrapers stretched upward along the road, holding in the cars and pedestrians like a steel ribcage. "Oh, yes ma'am. The second you need him, I'll have him there. I might not even need to kidnap him this time!"

Rinchen dragged her middle finger over the length of the necklace over her chest, feeling each link in the chain. It was a light thing by design, but no matter how hard she tugged, it would never loosen from around her neck, double-stranded as it was. She had long ago grown accustomed to the feel of the choker, the way the rest draped around her neck. A beautiful leash, but a leash all the same, the owners being consigned to depths she hoped they never found their way out of.

She was free to do as she liked, but never free enough from them. Rinchen needed more.

#Worlds Not Our Own mlb #alternate universe #established lukanette #alix kubdel #rose lavillant #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #lukanette #Nat's Monster In The Box

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fetaminee · 1 year

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when a person is alone and sad, they will do anything to feel differently. you drive faster or you eat richer and you always always always laugh loudest at parties. you're a mirror, refracting other people back to themselves, and like a mirror you hold them within you. it's easy to be full when someone is comparing you to the stars behind your head. you're the cleverest, of course. the first with ideas and fresh concepts and you talk to loudly and interrupt so everyone knows exactly how much you deserve to be with them. or maybe you're the funniest! and you press your thumb into the bruise on your best friend's heart because you know it'll get the best laughs. or you're desirable and you wear two bras to the party and drink too much and are too much but someone lets you bum a cigarette and touches your neck and at least they're looking. tell me i'm good, you broadcast with your wit and your smile and your brightness. tell me i'm good, you beg with every last night spent alone shriveling into nothing. please, tell me i'm good. and it's those nights. when nobody is there. they're busy or it's three am and they've gone home, and you're in bed staring at the wall through burning eyes. if you were good someone would be behind you, knees tucked into the backs of yours and a warm arm around your waist. if you were good, someone would be replying to your messages and telling you how funny you are. if you were good, you wouldn't be so alone. the pit is there. the pit is deep. it starts somewhere around your breastbone and ends somewhere inside the feeling in your stomach when you embarrass yourself. and you can paste wallpaper over it's gaping maw in the form of fast cars or smiling faces but all it takes is a little pressure and you are punctured, a needle through a bug. can you be good enough to be worth it? can you be good enough to earn your place? if you're helpful are you desired? if you're the best does that mean you deserve to live? it's a vicious cycle of self-fulfillment. you want too much. you need too much. you are rebuffed. you are shamed. you are ignored. you want too much. you need too much. you are rebuffed. and the pit deepens and the lengths you'll go to lengthen and by the end you are stretched above a canyon, vulnerable and naked to all who see you. you contort and twist into shapes they'll like and hope one day the approval is enough to heal the wound. it's never enough. it won't ever be enough. when a wound is deep, it must be healed in stages. if you stitch it up and leave it, the scar tissue heals in bubbles. and in the bubbles, infection festers. on the surface, the skin is pale and glossy with healed flesh but deeper within lies the redhot disease. to heal a deep wound correctly, you must begin at the deepest point. you pack the wound with gauze to keep the flesh from knitting together wrong and only once the gash is a thick, strong column of scar tissue are you safe from infection. you cannot heal from without. you cannot heal all at once. strength comes in stages. healing comes in stages. you hold the gauze are surely as you hold the thread and needle. start at the base, beloved. start at the bottom of the wound and allow yourself space and time to heal right. of course you deserve to be loved. of course you deserve to be here. of course what you've done is enough. but you cannot build on bubbles and you cannot heal over an infection. i will tell you now that you are enough but i am not telling you to make you feel better. i am telling you that you're deserving of love because by the very nature of being on this earth, you are good. there is nothing more. there is nothing less. you are good because you exist and you exist because you are good. you are enough and the world turns and the sun shines and snowflakes melt and fire burns. it is a law of nature. there are no choices you can make that would make you more deserving of life because that worthiness is intrinsic within you. you're enough and you're glorious.

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orangerosebush · 3 years

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ALSO when I reblog/post things with the word 'queer' in it, I always tag it as "queer usage", as I know LGBTQ+ people who are left out when it is tagged as "q slur", just as I know LGBTQ+ people who are left out when it is tagged as "q word". This tagging system is my personal attempt to accommodate the myriad 1) relationships people have to this language and 2) history of the language itself. If the way I tag doesn't accommodate you and your needs, please send me an anon, and I will find a way to update my tag system accordingly.

#queer usage #not af #due to personal experiences i also have a complex relationship to the term! and i want to make sure my blog is as accommodating as possible #in that respect #i want to thread the needle in keeping this a safe place for people who have the term as a trigger and thus need to avoid it #as well as people who have a lot of pain around being prevented from being open about their identity as it relates to using #the term

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xtodorcki · 3 years

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“Betrayal,” Levi x Reader

Summary: The 3 Titan shifters (aka Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt) had stolen the last Titan serum and you end up getting framed. While you get tortured by the military police to reveal the truth, Levi tries his best to prove your innocence.

Idk if this would end up being a series, it just might bc even tho this was requested, I’m thinking about having a spin where after the reader gets tortured, they have like a life changing moment (kinda like Tokyo ghoul where after Kaneki gets tortured, he turns into an actual ghoul) kinda like that so bear with me🤧

Warnings!: abuse and torture!!!!

It was a normal day, the only day off the scouts had and they all spent it relaxing and talking with each other. You had sat next to your boyfriend, Levi, while having a few drinks when the military police had stormed inside the place.

The sudden harsh grabs of their hands on your body, slamming you down on the hard table was enough to cause pain through your body and you had let out a wince from the impact.

Their actions had made Levi jump up and try to shove them off your body, his anger boiling at the sight of you being put into handcuffs without them barely saying a word.

“Back up, Captain and let us do our job.” The guy ended up punching Levi clean in his jaw and made him stumble back.

“What the hell are you doing?” Armin had shouted, all the scouts ready to fight with the guards as they yanked your small body off the table.

“Y/N is under arrest for stealing the Titan serum and helping the traitors get away.” They spoke coldly, making your eyes widen at their words and Levi had looked surprised.

“That’s not true! I didn’t touch it!” You shouted, trying to resist their attempts of shoving you out the door and you had looked back at Levi.

“It’s not true, you have to believe me!” The last look he had given you was disappointment and that had made your heart shattered as they put you on the carriage.

The ride back to their station was quiet, except their disgusting words that they shot at you to make you feel guilty and even a guard mentioned how beaten you were going to be after they were done with you.

Your heart ached and your body shook from the amount of rage you felt running through your veins. You were sure you already had bruises forming on your skin from the rough pushing and shoving against the table.

Levi had stood in the middle of the room, watching you get taken out the door with the small of blood running down his nose and everyone stayed quiet, looking at the Captain.

He didn’t want to believe it but why would they suspect you? Out of all people? It had made him overthink about it but the look of terror on your face as you looked at him one last time had made him feel deep down in his gut that you were telling the truth.

He was your boyfriend afterall, he knew you pretty well and have been for over a year so he was positive he would know if you were a traitor and if you stole something as big as the Titan serum.

As you were shoved inside the cell, being locked away, you were left to your thoughts and the tears threatened to stream down your face as you tried to think of everything- how did you even end up here? What led you here?

It was a painful topic to think about, to even think about being a suspect, to think about being a traitor. There was no room for you to be a traitor even if you tried.

It had taken hours before the guards came back to bring you into a empty room, tying you to a chair to ‘ask you questions’ but in reality, they put you here to enjoy the torture they’re going to do to you.

“Where is the Titan serum?” One asked, making your sad tear filled eyes to look up at them and before you could even open your mouth, he had swung his fist to strike you across the face.

The rough impact caused blood to spit out of your mouth and onto the wooden floors, coughing it up as you tried to take steady breaths but it was far too difficult.

Levi had finally went up to the station with everyone, trying to reason with the military police and talk to them about the fact that their thoughts on you were completely false.

They had surprisingly let Levi through considering he is a scout but when he got through the area he wasn’t supposed to be in and had seen you in the room, the way you were breathing heavy and the way you face was already beaten to the point where he could barely recognize your face because it was covered it blood- it made him angry.

“Have you even done your actual fucking jobs or have you been beating her this entire fucking time?!” He shouted at them, making you raise your head at the sound of his voice and your heart began to break more if that was even possible.

“We are doing our job, you’re not even supposed to be this far back here. Get his ass out of here.” The mp ordered the guards to drag Levi out and he had looked at you with a pained look, shoving the guards off of him and walking out of the room by himself.

He didn’t want to leave you there but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do except talk to the higher ups and try to prove your innocence to them but that’s a lot harder than it sounds

Throughout the night, the guards didn’t let you sleep one bit. The long hours of them beating you whether it was with a stick, a whip- it didn’t matter. They had even used knives to cut up your skin, they didn’t care- for all they know you were a traitor to them.

The amount of blood that had covered your entire uniform was sick, you could barely even keep your eyes open and handle everything. You stopped crying, you stopped screaming, you were just emotionless.

And inside your head, you had zoned out enough to not think about the pain and think about the harsh beatings they were giving you. It felt like you had changed into a whole completely different person and gave yourself a new mindset from all this torture.

And it took two days.

Two days for Levi to find proof, two days for Levi to run up to the station and slam the proof on their desks along with bringing the scouts for evidence to show them that the people who had stole the Titan serum was no one else but the two Titan shifters, Reiner and Bertholdt.

The way Levi had rushed up to the chair you were still tied in, the rope digging in your skin from how tight it was- leaving dry blood stains from head to toe.

The guards still didn’t feel bad, shit, they still thought you did it but by their boss’ commands- they had to let you go.

Your eyes barely opened when Levi stepped in the room, all you could hear was muffling of voices and a blur of his face come into view.

He wanted to kill them desperately. The way he would enjoy watching his blade slice through their skins like butter but he kept his cool, he kept it together but deep down he wanted to scream at the sight of you. You were awful.

He had scooped you up in his arms, you could barely see his face from the blood but you ended up passing out eventually.

When you had regain consciousness, Levi had barely made it back to the base. All the scouts had looked at you in complete shock and even Armin had shed a few tears while Eren threatened to kill all the MPs.

“Just leave her be for a couple of days guys, she’s in bad shape.” Levi mumbled, he didn’t want to think about it too much- he didn’t want to stare at your bloody state or else it’ll send him off the deep end.

He didn’t know what to do but simply clean you in the bath tub. He had undressed you and sat you in there, making sure to sit you up so you wouldn’t fall. You held onto the edges of the bath, your eyes staring down at the clear water that soon was dark red from your blood.

You remained quiet which worried him, he knew it must’ve been traumatizing but he thought you would at least speak up by now.

“Y/N?” He whispered, running the cloth over your body ever so gently and this is when he got full looks of your wounds.

Deep cuts and slashes on your skin, from your back to your arms and legs. It was painful for him to look at it, he knew you would need stitches for them.

“Will you be okay for a few minutes? I need to go get the first aid.” He stared at you but your eyes stayed on the water, your head tilted down and your eyes barely even blinking.

Levi had sighed, standing up from his spot and left the room to hurry to the infirmary and come back so he can stitch you up himself. While he was gone, your eyes had moved around the bathroom and the bloody cloth he was using to wash you.

Once you had catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you stared at it for what seemed like forever- looking at the cuts that covered your pale body. Soon you started to laugh while tears filled up in your very eyes and even a few slipped down your cheeks as your laugh grew louder.

He had finally walked in the room, looking down at you and had felt a huge weight pin down on his heart. The mixed bloody tears on your cheeks and the laughter coming out of your mouth had him frozen in time until you finally caught his gaze, your laughing coming to a stop and your sobs started leaving your lips.

Levi rushed over, dropping the box and leaned over the tub to hug onto you but not so tight, making sure to watch your wounds. Your sobs had grown so loud that the scouts down the hall heard your crying, the pain escaping your throat was painful to their ears.

“Hey, shhh.” He had tried to comfort you, the guilt he felt had made him want to punch himself for not helping you sooner, it was his fault you were like this.

He stroked your hair back, tilting your head up to look at him fully and he couldn’t help but cry with you. The whimpers that escaped your busted lips had made him want to break down here and now.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.. you’re safe.” He repeated until your breathing had gone back to normal, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

He had resumed what he was doing. He grabbed the needle and thread, slowly starting to stitch you up while you silently cried in the tub, the water growing cold as your body ached. He had stitched you up in so many places that he could barely count, they completely went overboard with torturing you and he felt like it was on purpose.

When he finished cleaning off the dry blood off your naked body, he lifted you up and wrapped a towel around you. He watched the dark red water go down the drain and he cursed under his breath at the mess around the bathroom, blood everywhere.

You were silent again, numb to everything you had felt throughout the last few days, emotionless but felt the need to scream again but your throat was dry and empty and sore.

He was careful to dress you in comfortable clothes, mostly his t-shirt and some sweatpants after he made sure to put bandages over your stitches and cuts. He tugged his blankets back, laying you down and tucking you in.

Once your head had hit the pillow, your eyes shut and he sat at the edge brushing his fingers through your hair, watching you for a while.

“I’ll make sure they pay for this, I promise..” He mumbled, more to himself than to you before he pressed a kiss to your bruised cheek.

“I love you.”

Throughout the night he had slept beside you but made sure to keep his distance, he didn’t want to hurt you in any way and he knew you haven’t slept the whole time you’ve kept by the military police.

As you slept, all you dreamt of was nightmares and to you they felt so real. The way they would hit you, it felt like they actually did and when they had walked up to your bloody corpse, leaning down and even threatening to cut off your fingers.

The way their plyers had gripped onto your fingernails as they ripped it out with no remorse- it all felt too real. Your body would shake, jolt and even whimpers would fall from your lips as you slept. It had taken a while for Levi to even wake up from your movements.

“Y/N.” He tried to be as gentle as possible, placing his hand on your arm and that’s when you jolted awake, sitting up and panting.

He had removed his hand when you shot up, hesitating before he reached out for you again and when you felt his fingertips- you flinched hard, looking over at him like he was a stranger.

“It’s me.” He mumbled, your eyes adjusting to the dark and you looked at his pained expression and that made your breathing start to calm down.

“Sorry.” You whispered, wiping the sweat off your forehead and you looked down at your arms wrapped in bandages, seeing the blood start to leak through.

“Don’t be.. do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” You said coldly, moving to lay back down in bed and had your back facing him as you stared at the wall.

Levi wanted to desperately take your pain away, he wish he could trade spots and take all the damage instead. But as he sat there staring down at you for what seemed like an hour, he was afraid of losing you and afraid that you were slowly slipping away from his grasp.

He thought about comforting you, would that even be a safe option? He thought. You flinched at his slight touches and he didn’t want you to become afraid of him, he loved you more than anything.

He decided to scoot closer to you, carefully kissing the back of your head and rested his hand on a safe part of your upper arm, making you tense underneath his touch.

“Look, I know what you went through was traumatic.. believe me but please don’t push me away, I can’t lose you.” He said softly, making your eyes water instantly from the flashbacks that flooded your head, every slap, kick, punch, everything.

“Levi,”

“I just want you to be able to talk to me, you’re not alone, at all.”

“I know.” You simply said, not knowing what else to really say about the situation. You were beaten senseless, out of pure hatred, it changed you.

You decided to gently turn over to face him, scrunching up your nose at the pain that followed as you moved. Your eyes looked at his, your bruised face had made his heart hurt more than he could explain.

As you two sat there staring at one another, you carefully brought your weak hand up to caress his cheek and rubbed your thumb over his skin slowly.

He leaned his face more into your hand, the most affection he has gotten out of you and even then, you hesitated, you wanted to pull away. You didn’t want to be touched, talked to, you wanted to be left alone but you had to think about Levi’s feelings too and what he did for you.

“Thank you, for everything.” You mumbled, making his eyes instantly move to look at yours with a hint of hope in them.

“No need to thank me.”

“But I want to, for cleaning me up and trying to support me.. can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

You sat there for a moment, trying to think of a better way to put everything and you sighed, your lips pressing into a thin line and even that had made the pain shoot through your busted lips.

“I just- I’m not comfortable speaking about the details but what I will say is, I’m not the same.”

“Ive noticed.” He whispered, moving his hand to brush the strands of your hair back from your face and he gave you a weak smile.

“No matter what, Y/N, I’m here.. to love you, to take care of you, all of it. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.” This time you cracked a smile, squishing his cheeks playfully as you leaned over to press a quick kiss to his lips but even that caused you pain in your body.

“I love you, Lev.”

Soooo idk whether to make a part 2

But if I was, I was thinking of the reader going crazy from the traumatic experiences and even going as far as to killing the guards in cold blood— no one knowing who did it except Levi. Blah blah.

Tell me what you think

Also this one is longer and I’m actually glad and proud how it turned out. So this is why I wanna start pacing myself, it turns out better that way❤️ but my requests are ALWAYSSSSS open, just be patient with me. Mwah. Ps, if you read all that, I love you.

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

( tag list: @levis-odm-gear )

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi Ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #levi x reader #levi headcanons #levi angst #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi fanfic #aot fanfic #aot imagines #aot headcanons

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raibebe · 4 years

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Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?” “Nope.” “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.) “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again. You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now… “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.” You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe. “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless. “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

#kafenetwork #johnny #seo youngho #johnny suh #nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #nct smut #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #johnny fic #johnny fanfic

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darkeunology · 2 years

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♡ Marry Me? ♡

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x reader

Warnings: Mentions of marriage, but simply pure fluff

Summary: Joe had been acting nervous all night, it's not until the end of dinner when you found out why.

Word Count: 1.7k+

Requested by @bohrhapgirlforlife19, I changed the request a little bit, I'm sorry if you don't like what I did! I don't really like this too much but I wanted to get it up today.

It was just over 4 years ago when you first met Joe. You were working on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody as one of the costume designers. You were the one who designed most of Joe’s outfits and the one who would have to look after him during fittings, so it was safe to say you spent a lot of time together.

Nearly instantly the two of you got on really well. The first day was slightly awkward, with both of you not knowing each other at all. However, after having a conversation with each other during his first fitting, the two of you found out a lot about each other. From that moment on your friendship only grew.

And with the growing friendship, feelings blossomed between the two of you. Neither of you told each other at first, you confined in your colleagues, a lot of which had already guessed your feelings, being able to read how you spoke with him, and Joe spoke to the fellow cast about it, making them vow to secrecy, wanting to make sure that they wouldn’t be the one’s to tell you. Joe’s plan, however, didn’t really work. It was fair to say that you would hear the gossip throughout the crew whilst you were fixing their costumes, and other than being incredibly close to Joe, you were also close to Ben and Lucy, who ended up being the people to tell you about Joe.

During shoots you’d spend your time standing nearby so you’d always be around when someone needed something done with their costume, you were sipping on your cup of tea, talking to some of your colleagues when Ben comes up to you, a small smile on his face, “Sorry, love. My tops ripped a bit, I need it fixing before I go back in front of the camera.” He spoke, chuckling slightly as he lifted his arm up to show a rip on the side of his top.

You placed your mug down, shaking your head lightly with a laugh as you stood up to check the rip, “how the hell did you do that?” you chuckled.

“I have no idea, the director pointed it out to me once he noticed,” Ben explained, watching as you walked over to the small sewing kit you kept onset, pulling out a small needle and the correct coloured thread before coming back over to him,

“Keep your arm up for me.” You spoke, as you began sewing up the tear in his shirt.

Ben smirked at you lightly before he spoke again, “How are you and Joe getting on?”

“We’re fine, we’re good friends, you know?” you spoke, a hint of confusion in your voice, wondering why Ben was asking you this.

He nodded, humming lightly, “Just friends? Is that all you think of him?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, finishing up the sewing as you tied it off and stood back up, letting Ben put his arm down, “Why are you asking me that?” you spoke as you put your tools away before looking back to Ben, crossing your arms over his chest as he placed his hands in his pockets.

Ben knew he shouldn’t really say anything, he had sworn to Joe that he shouldn’t, but at the same time he already had a feeling that he knew how much you liked Joe and he wanted to get both of his friends together so he decided to just go for it, “A little birdie told me that Joe might see you as more than a friend.” he mumbled, chuckling at your shocked reaction, “so, y’know if you do like him, it wouldn’t do any harm in telling him.” he smirked, nodding at you once before walking back onto set, leaving you in your thoughts.

It didn’t take you long to decide what to do after Ben had spoken to you, once filming had wrapped and Joe went into his trailer you decided to go and see him and ask him about what Ben had told you about. And that ended up being very worthwhile for you, Joe was meant to be going out with the rest of the cast for drinks after the shoot, but after a long conversation with you, he decided to spend the night out with you instead, taking you out for drinks before you ended the night in his trailer, wrapped up in his arms simply talking about anything and everything that came to mind.

You both decided to keep your budding relationship a secret, to begin with, not telling people when you went on dates with each other, and not telling anyone when Joe eventually asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them, you trusted everyone and you did really want to tell them, but you both simply just wanted the relationship to be just yours for the moment, you both knew that once you told everyone, then all eyes would be on you, and if the media found out, you knew the paparazzi would be all over the two of you. You would tell everyone, just not quite yet.

It was the night filming wrapped when you told everyone, nearly 6 months into the relationship, and as you both thought, everyone was insanely supportive of the both of you, and it was during the premiere of the film when you made your relationship public to the media, and the both of you have never been happier.

It was the night before valentines day, and valentines days with Joe were always special, he would always go all out, taking you on the most amazing dates every time, and you figured that this year would be just the same. Joe had brought you a new dress to wear, along with shoes and some new jewellery, like he did every year and he told you when he wanted you to be ready to leave.

Joe had struggled to hide this surprise from you, after all, you were living together now, he thought it would be hard to hide things from you, but he somehow managed to, at least he hoped he had and that you truly had no idea what he had planned.

It was beginning to darken outside when you and Joe left, he had told you already where you were going, knowing that it was what he had actually planned to do that he needed to keep a secret. It was a little while later when you were getting out of the car and walking into a rooftop restaurant, somewhere Joe had taken you on a lot of dates before, it was one of your favourite places, being able to watch the nightlife from nearly 20 stories up, the atmosphere of the restaurant was always amazing, the whole deck was covered in fairy lights and candles, lighting everything up.

You and Joe had spent dinner like you always do, your feet hitting each other under the table as you spoke quietly, taking in the surroundings below you. You’d noticed throughout the night that Joe seemed a lot more nervous and flustered than he normally was, throughout the night you had asked him what was wrong but he always replied with a simple ‘it’s nothing, love.’ and would get back to eating.

It wasn’t until the end of the main meal when you found out why he was so nervous. “I need to say something quickly,” he started, his voice quiet as he held your hands across the table, “when I met you for the first time during that first costume fitting I never could’ve imagined how important you’d become to me, and I never thought that I’d fall in love on set, yet here we are.” Joe paused, standing from his seat before kneeling down on one knee, pulling out a small box from his back pocket. All the tables around you had noticed what was happening and paused to watch with smiles on their faces, you gasped lightly as Joe pulled out the box, your eyes already beginning to water with fresh tears. “I’ve been thinking of how to do this for a while now” he chuckled lightly, “hell, I’ve been holding onto this ring for over a year,” you chuckled with him, whispering his name under your breath, “You are my whole entire world y/n, and I can’t imagine for one moment a life without you in it anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so y/f/n,” he paused, opening the box to reveal a beautiful ring, “will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” he asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

It was almost like you’d forgotten how to speak, Joe’s worlds causing tears to fall from your eyes, Joe got more and more nervous the longer it took you to answer, before the rough nodding of your head gave him his answer, causing the widest smile to break out onto his face. Carefully he took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger before you both stood up together, your arms wrapping around each other tightly, both of you crying freely into each other's shoulders.

When you were first signed on to join the costume department for Bohemian Rhapsody, you never expected to meet Joe and fall in love with him as quickly as you did, and you definitely never expected to marry him, but you wouldn’t change anything for the world.

#joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello fluff #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody fluff

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little-diable · 3 years

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Stitches in the dark - Spencer Reid (smut)

Written for @band--psycho 2k challenge, I love you and I'm so proud of you Tash! My word was "stitches" - I didn't highlight it in the text, since its pretty obvious. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Spencer and the reader are spending the night together at the annual FBI ball, but when his suit jacket rips he needs the reader to stitch it back together. Who would have thought that it would only take a needle and some threat to push the two into the right direction?

Warnings: 18+, sex, sex in a public place, mixed with some fluff, mentions a needle (for sewing)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.5k)

(Y/n) couldn’t help but frown at her reflection, tugging on the black dress Emily had forced her to wear, making her feel like a puppet stuck in layers of fabric. She looked beautiful, though just the thought of having to spend the following hours squeezed into a ballroom with people she didn’t even know the names of didn’t sit right with her.

But time was running short, she didn’t have a chance to back out, head whipping towards her front door. Spencer was pacing in front of it, knocking on the heavy wood again and again, till (y/n) finally ripped it open, staring at his tall frame. He was dressed in a black suit, looking as handsome as one could be.

“Hey,” (y/n) forced her gaze to meet his eyes, smiling at a gasping Spencer. He felt his lungs burning, struggling to keep on breathing, he had never seen her in a dress before, could only imagine what was lying beneath the heavy fabric.

“You look gorgeous.” Spencer cleared his throat, waiting for her to lock the door before she followed him to the car.

Both weren’t big fans of events and crowded places, but neither wanted to miss the annual FBI ball and since they didn’t have any dates they simply decided to go together, hoping that time would pass by quickly enough. Spencer opened the car door for (y/n), patiently helping her with her dress, chuckling at the struggling woman.

The air crackled, both couldn’t help but stare at one another, stealing glances whenever the car would take another turn, driving them through the city, towards the big hall. (Y/n) tapped her feet against the carpet, tightly gripping her dress to find anything to hold onto, wondering if he could tell how nervous she felt.

Not once had they spoken about their feelings for one another, too focused on their work, on the cases that kept them going. Spencer had always struggled with analyzing his own feelings, so it had been no surprise to the rest of the team that he couldn’t understand that (y/n) was clearly crushing on him.

“Just tell me when you want to leave,” Spencer murmured as the car came to a halt, waiting for them to step out before driving off into the night, leaving the two behind. Instinctively (y/n) grasped his hand in hers, tugging him close to stabilise her trembling frame - at least that’s what she told herself.

(Y/n) could barely take in her surroundings, trying to keep her breathing steady as Spencer pulled her towards the crowd, finding the rest of their team. With her heart racing on her tongue, she greeted her friends, not letting go of his warmth, the arm that found its way around her waist.

“Do you want to dance?” His breath tickled her neck, waiting for her to make up her mind, head slightly nodding yes, following Spencer to the dance floor. (Y/n) was thankful for the silence that lingered between them, giving her a few moments to make up her mind, sorting through her thoughts as they began to sway to the music.

The calming piano music wrapped itself around them, keeping them safe and shielded from the other couples. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if she could hear his heartbeat, the strong muscles that pulsed in his chest. He felt like a young boy, the Spencer that had just been asked to join the team years ago, not used to chasing criminals all around the country.

But nothing would ever give him an adrenaline rush like this, keeping (y/n) close while they got lost in the calmness of the night. Both hearts ached as the song ended, forcing them apart, ushering the couple back to their smiling friends. None of them dared to speak their mind, very well knowing how Spencer and (y/n) struggled with the growing tension between them.

(Y/n) watched Spencer follow Derek to the bar, shooting Emily a warning glance, keeping her in line, at least for the night. She didn’t have any time to find a new topic to discuss with the team, Derek’s voice rang through the ballroom, calling for (y/n).

Both men were standing near the bar, fiddling around with Spencer’s suit jacket, trying to keep the ripped open fabric pieced together. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her chuckles from bubbling out of her, watching the two with twinkling eyes, waiting for them to tell her what to do.

“You can sew, right?” With her tongue pressed against her teeth, she grasped Spencer’s hand, pulling him towards the bathrooms, making their way into one of the stalls. She placed her purse down on the sink, combing through her stuff till she found her small emergency bag, pulling out a needle and some black thread. Spencer had sat down on the toilet seat, watching her with wide eyes.

“Give me your jacket.” (Y/n) didn’t think twice before placing herself in his lap, trying to make herself comfortable as she began stitching the fabric together. She felt his eyes on her back, not noticing how Spencer slowly moved his hands closer to her waist. His instincts seemed to guide him, taking over his system to push him in the right direction.

Spencer felt like he was on drugs, high and confused, out of place. His body worked without asking his mind for permission, lips meeting her neck, kissing her soft skin. (Y/n) froze in her movements, holding her breath. Was Spencer Reid kissing her? The Spencer Reid she had been dreaming of for years?

“Spencer,” his name fell from her lips, filling the small space. She dropped his jacket, turning her head towards him. Before another word could leave either one of them, their lips met, swallowing down their moans. Her hands got lost in his brown hair, holding him close as their tongues moved in sync.

“(Y/n), I-.” He didn’t know what to say, wanted to beg her to let him touch her. But the hands that tugged on his dress shirt, seemed to push him back into his mindset, guided by his emotions. She struggled to undo his shirt, so her hands moved lower, turning towards the zip of his trousers.

“Here?” His raspy voice rang in her ears, body turning so that she was straddling him. The “yes” she moaned against his lips vibrated on his skin, tingling in every cell of his body. (Y/n) managed to pull his trousers down, cock springing free. Her hands grasped him, no longer feeling nervous, instincts telling her what to do.

Spencer’s head rolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down another groan. (Y/n) couldn’t rip her eyes off him, he looked handsome, the darkness that engulfed them still allowed her to admire his lust drunken features. He moved his hands up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her waist, tugging her panties aside to touch her.

Both moved as if they had done this numerous times before, taking care of one another as their heart’s begged them to keep on exploring. His name bled from her lips, eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the feeling of his cold hands toying with her pulsing clit.

“I need to feel you.” Their mouths met, lips parted to allow their shaky breaths to fill the small room. With Spencer’s help (y/n) shuffled herself even closer, staring at him with excitement laced in her gaze.

“Do you have a-” he reached for his wallet, pulling out the small foil packet. (Y/n) ripped it out of his hand, opening it with her teeth before rolling it down his length. The moment she sank down on his cock, (y/n) felt burning flames of pleasure taking over her system, for a second her eyes snapped to her arms, wondering if she was truly burning alive.

Spencer had inflamed something deep inside of her, burning her system to the ground as he took over. Their hips met over and over again, skin slapping as she rode him with his hands placed on her behind. Both felt like they were drowning, holding one another down as the air around them got thinner.

“You take me so well, so tight, fuck.” Spencer murmured against her lips, feeling his own orgasm creeping closer, no longer could he control his movements, mind set on making her cum. “See how you’re squeezing me, you need me, don’t you?”

(Y/n) cried out, head buried in the crook of his neck. Her thighs trembled, she no longer could hold herself up, would let go any second now. Spencer moved his hand to her chin, tugging on her skin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“Look at me when you cum.” His voice dropped lower, no longer the genius that was scared of messing things up with (y/n), but the man that fucked her raw.

She cried and cried, walls fluttering as her orgasm clashed through her like a tsunami, ripping her open from inside out. Spencer’s orgasm followed shortly after, cum filling the condom, holding her down against his hips.

Their heavy pants filled the bathroom, eyes closed, enjoying the bliss that flickered inside of them. (Y/n) pulled him in for another kiss, silently thanking him for touching her how she had always dreamt of.

What had started with a few stitches in the dark had turned into something so raw and passionate that both couldn’t help but thank their lucky stars for luring them out of their houses.

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #spencer reid x reader

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thebadbatch · 3 years

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Hunter X Unwell Reader

Plot: Hunter takes care of the reader as they've fallen ill.

Warnings: Detailed description of being unwell accompanied by a lot of fluff.

--------------------------

Loved

Upon waking, you realized how quickly your heart was beating and how hot you felt. Everything seemed to hit you at the same time, the temperature you appeared to be running made you feel like you were on Tatooine wearing all of the gear you usually wear during missions on Hoth. Your head alone made you wince, shutting your eyes as it grew sharper and more tense - your entire body felt fragile and weak and you were certain that you wouldn't be able to get yourself out of bed without falling. Then again it must be worth a try? Your throat felt dry and coarse, the feeling making you feel like you could die without it. Attempting to sit up, you pulled your legs out of bed and placed them upon the floor - that previous pain you felt really kicking in now as if it hadn't already.

"Kriff." Your voice mumbled, a sharp pain accompanying it. Pushing yourself up with what remained left of your energy, your body threw itself against the closest wall to keep your body from falling. Quickly Pressing a button on the doors control panel, they finally opened so you could drag yourself into the Havoc Marauders hallway. Your legs began to shake as they held you up and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself up much longer. "Hunter?" Your gentle-toned voice rang out, worry and fear coating it. Being unwell has always been a struggle for you due to constant thoughts filling your head saying that you'd only get worse and end up dying. Heath anxiety was always a nightmare to deal with and you lay all your thanks to Kamino for giving that to you. Rapid footsteps come closer and closer toward you, completely grateful for the sound as your legs give out resulting in you falling in what felt like slow-motion. Waiting for the hard floor to greet your body, which strangely never came, your eyes opened to see Hunter's worried gaze as you realised you were now in his arms completely vulnerable and weak. They had never seen you like this before, you had never called out for help as you were always making sure that their reckless selves didn't get injured or hurt.

"Y/N!" Hunter spoke, "What's wrong?" Closing your eyes, you hesitantly laid your head against his shoulder with your breaths completely ragged.

"Not well." You managed to croak out, whimpering a little at the wave of pain that engulfed your body. Hunter nodded and began to rush back with you to the cockpit where all of the other members were working on their own individual projects. You had definitely woken up late as all of the others never woke up as early as you did, at the sight of them you knew it was early into the afternoon.

"Tech," Hunter breathed, "Run a med scan for y/n stat." Tech turned in his seat at the never-before heard request for you, the others staring at you completely terrified. He soon stood, running the device over you before gazing at the information he had received.

"They have the flu." Everyone turned to him with puzzled and worried looks that intertwined. They were clones, they rarely got sick but when they did it was absolute hell. "The flu is a common Illness among humans which features a fever, aching body, exhaustion, cough, sore throat, headaches, loss of appetite, stomach Pain and being sick." He took a deep breath in, "It's a short term illness that will resolve itself in all due time, about five to seven days. Since y/n grew up on Kamino though, this may be one of the first times they're unwell, meaning that everything will feel one hundred times worse. Hunter gently sat down, keeping you against him as he used his fingertips to thread through your hair something you were usually too proud to let him do but you really needed this right now. Whilst leaning into his touch much to his joy, you attempted to speak.

"No... No tests." Echo looked over at you completely sympathetic, knowing how Kamino must have poked you with every needle available to see how illness affected you. You used to be an experiment for them to see how they could Improve their clones and if anything it just damaged you instead rather then improving them.

"No tests, Mesh'la." Hunter reassured you continuing to thread his fingertips through your hair, feeling your forehead against your burning temperature. "I promise." His gentle promise seemed to soothe and calm you straight away as you hid your face against his neck.

"How can we help her?" You heard Wreckers voice pipe up, he was always so sweet and fun to be around so when that serious tone drained away his usual laughs you couldn't help but pout.

"Plenty of liquid and food, especially rest and medicine which we will have to retrieve from Ord Mantell." Echo nodded, gazing over at Hunter who couldn't look away from your fragile form clinging to his body for any kind of comfort. "We need to do a Supply run anyway so we can collect it with ease."

"Would you mind staying, Hunter?" Echo questioned as he stood to gather any necessities for the supply run they decided to go on. "I think it's best for one of us to ensure they're safe." Within a heartbeat, Hunter had agreed as the others left to gather everything needed. Now it was just the two of you, leaving Hunter who was more than happy to take care of you. Lifting you up, he carried you to his bunk to softly lay you down under blankets and placed a cold cloth on your forehead that he retrieved from the fresher for you.

"Don't go." He had heard you whisper, a moment of clarity washing over you as you shifted a little to turn to him clinging to the pillow that smelt like him. A chuckle left his lips as he sat on the bed with you.

"I won't go anywhere, y/n." Those words alone gave out immense comfort before you pulled back the blankets for him to cuddle with until things stopped hurting as badly. Once he had cuddled back down with you, holding you delicately in his arms he began rubbing soft Circles against your back. "When they get back I want you to take the medicine and make Sure You drink plenty of water and have a little something to eat. Understood?" His words were more like soldier-talk, but you understood he did that when he was stressed or worried. A simple nod was returned by you before you hid against the warmth of his chest beginning to get some well-needed rest.

"Y/n…" A softer voice spoke which made you wince and furtherly hide against Hunter's chest, gripping his blacks. "Mesh'la, you need to take your medicine…" Opening your eyes, you Peeked above the comfort and safety of Hunter's blankets and his body - clearly not impressed that you were awoken by them.

"They seem angry..." Wrecker spoke, a little spooked at your angered expression.

"They will be." Hunter chuckled, his thumb running across your cheek causing you to melt into his touch with a smile.

"They've woken up to us needing them to take medicine, waking them from what relief sleep offered from y/n's flu." Tech gently crouched so he could see you clearly, Showing you a glass of water and a tablet. "Please take this, Cyar'ika." Nodding at his gentle tone, you took the tablet and water much to their glee.

"Good job, Mesh'la." Echo spoke with a Smile, "We will leave you both be. Shout for us if you need us okay?" Hunter thanked his brothers before turning back to face you, wiping some water away from your mouth.

"Why don't you sleep now y/n?" He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your eyes began to shut - excited for some relief from your aching body. "You'll feel better soon, I won't leave your side." His Previous kiss soon moved to your cheek as he held you even closer, protecting you from everything and anything. "I love you." With that, you finally drifted off with a smile, entirely in love with everything about The Bad Batch. Despite being unwell, you knew that you were free from the past and got to enjoy a well deserved future filled with people you loved and people who loved you too.

#the bad batch #bad batch #star wars #Hunter #Oneshot #x reader #The bad batch x reader

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bibliocratic · 3 years

Text

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

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condorclaw · 3 years

Text

...so we could all use a little fluff after yesterday, right?

TW: description of a panic attack with referenced abuse. The scene is in bold if you want to skip over it, and is a small part of the story

Michael didn’t understand much about the world, especially since Snowchester was all he could remember.

What he did know was that there were both kind people, and people who were not so nice.

Michael’s dads knew what was best, he had realized. Many times Michael had been approached by strangers in his own room, with dadboo swooping in to clutch him to his chest protectively. Michael didn’t know what was so bad about some of these strangers, but in his dad’s arms, he felt protected, so he figured dadboo knew something he didn’t.

Dadboo wasn’t the only one in Michael’s life who he felt fully safe around. There was his other parent, dadbee. Dadbee wasn’t as tall or as strange as dadboo was, but dadbee would stand with dadboo, a weapon clutched in his hand whenever a stranger would invade the house. If Michael listened to Technoblade’s metaphors in the possible future, he’d look back on this time and compare his fathers to a sword and shield.

There was another important guardian in Michael’s life too: his uncle Tommy.

Tommy had hair that reminded the kid of gold, fangs that were as sharp as piglin tusks, and always some kind of mischievous glint in his eye. When Michael’s dads were away, Tommy came to watch over him, something Michael had grown to look forward to.

Ever since the two met, they had a strong connection, something that was cemented with Tommy knowing Michael’s native language, being able to communicate with him better. Tommy was also teaching it to his fathers too, dadbee getting good enough to ask Michael what he wanted for dinner, and being able to understand Michael’s answers, while dadboo was the best at giving one-word instructions.

His family was so cool, and Michael would tell Foolish Jr. about them whenever the little totem came over for a playdate. Just like Michael, Foolish Jr. had an uncle as well, but unlike Michael, Foolish Jr. had never seen his own, hearing that he had been taken somewhere secret. Michael felt sorry for his best friend, while also being happy that he had such an awesome uncle himself.

Tommy was even missing an eye like him! Michael didn’t know how he lost it, and whenever the piglin asked, Tommy would just mumble something in response about “green”, and saying that Michael could hear about it when he was older. Michael didn’t mind, it just made him feel closer to the blonde.

The world was confusing, and things didn’t make that much sense yet, but Michael knew that he always had dadboo, dadbee, and uncle Tommy by his side to protect him.

“You two have fun, okay?”

Michael watched as Tubbo tried forcing a large metallic object into his bag, even beginning to stomp down on it before Ranboo ran in frantically.

“Tubbo, we just need to check on the borders of Snowchester, we don’t need-”

“Nukes can come in handy, Ranboo!”

“HOW!?”

Tommy rolled his eye in mock exaggeration, glancing down at Michael, who turned his head to stare back. “Your dads are never getting out of here, guess I can’t babysit tonight.”

Michael stomped his hoof in frustration, letting out a loud snort of annoyance, which caught both of his dads’ attention.

“Tommy, what did you tell him?” Ranboo’s eyebrow raised in suspicion as his eyes gazed down at the huffy piglin.

“That the two of you are slower than the Eggpire’s “ultimate takeover”.” The pout on Tubbo’s face was enough to make Tommy burst into his signature laughter, the couple eventually joining in on enjoying the joke. Michael didn’t understand what was happening, but began to giggle in little snorts, not wanting to be left out.

“Okay, okay. I think we are taking a while,” Ranboo muttered, tilting his head to look down at Tubbo accusingly. The ram hybrid stared back, sticking out his tongue in mock aggression.

“Don’t you want to be safe? We could run into a pack of wolves and have to defend ourselves.”

“Tubbo, I think the nuke killing us is more likely to happen than being killed by mobs-”

Michael let out another frustrated cry, beginning to hop in place and slam his hooves down on the floorboards. Ranboo and Tubbo both looked at him, ears folding back sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Tubbo mumbled in piglin, rubbing the back of his neck. Ranboo nodded along with that, bending down to rub Michael’s head affectionately. “Okay, we get it. We’re going now. Have a good time, Michael.” Ranboo gently booped Michael’s snout with his own, standing up once the piglin squealed happily,

“Ranboooo, we have to make a stop at the warehouse,” Tubbo tugged on his husband’s jacket once the enderman stood.

“Tubbo, we’ll waste time-”

“Do you want the nuke to be left here with our son then?”

“...okay, w-”

“GOODBYE ALREADY!” Tommy let out a battle cry, shoving the two parents through the door and locking it behind them. Michael chirped happily, clapping his hooves at the amusing sight. Even inside, they could still hear Ranboo and Tubbo talking faintly. Uncle and nephew listened closely, waiting until the voices could no longer be heard.

“Okay, those two are gone now. We now have the whole night to ourselves.” Tommy turned, giving Michael a fanged grin. The piglin began jumping on the spot excitedly, flapping his stubby arms.

Tommy had been surprisingly good at managing Michael, even understanding how to keep him happy while making sure he was safe. The lack of a language barrier made everything a lot easier too, but even Tubbo and Ranboo were surprised at how well Tommy knew how to do a lot of household tasks that parents normally took over. The two of them had once come home to a spotless house, Tommy telling them that he needed to kill energy through cleaning after putting Michael to bed.

Currently, Tommy was preparing a bowl of steamed carrots for Michael, keeping an eye on the piglin playing on the floor while also focusing on the pot boiling. Michael’s favourite food was potatoes, but his parents had told him that Tommy didn’t really like those much, so he had to have something else. Michael’s next favourite was carrots, which was something Tommy did like too, and he always made them the way Michael liked.

On the floor, Michael was playing with his stuffed bee. It was a gift from his dadbee that Michael loved squeezing into, and it was even the size of the piglin himself. It was rather silly to see him clutching onto a giant bee, but it was also a very cute sight.

Michael pretended to attack the large plush, leaping into it at full speeds and rolling across the floor like he always did. Tommy chuckled at the sight, removing the pot from the stove and turning it off. “Be careful, little man. Tubbo’ll kill me if something happens to you.” He muttered light-heartedly.

Michael oinked in understanding, rolling his bee across the floor once more. Upon doing so however, a thread caught onto the edge of one of the floorboards, unravelling the bee slightly and exposing the stuffing. Michael stared at the plush toy quietly, his eye wide as tears started to spill from it.

Setting aside the carrots for draining, Tommy quickly turned around upon hearing a panicked squeal. He spotted Michael clutching the ripped bee close to his chest, sad little oinks escaping from him. Tommy slowly made his way over to his nephew, crouching down to see him better.

“Did Mr. Bee get hurt?” Michael nodded, oinking out what happened to his favourite toy. Tommy turned, glaring at the floor with a huff.

“How dare you fuckin’ hurt him. Mr. Bee never did anything to you, stupid pieces of wood.”

Michael giggled a little, tears still falling from his eyes. Tommy turned back to the piglin after “getting angry” at the floor, an understanding smile appearing on his face. “Michael, do you know where Tubbo keeps the rainbow string with the tiny stabby sticks?”

The piglin gave a curt nod, pointing to one of the chests along the walls. Tommy stood up, stretching his body before leaning down and gently picking up Michael. Michael was placed in his high chair, with Tommy bringing over the bowl of drained carrots. “You eat these, okay? I’ll have the coolest surprise for you when you’re done.”

Michael’s eye widened again and he quickly began to gulp down his food, Mr. Bee forgotten for now. Tommy let out a panicked laugh, quickly taking the bowl from Michael and stared at his nephew eye-to-eye. “You only get the surprise if you eat slowly, okay? It’s not safe to eat that fast.”

Michael frowned, folding his arms and muttering something.

“Woah, and where did YOU hear that word from?”

Another snort.

“...okay, I’ll admit that I did say that.”

Michael’s lip curled in in satisfaction as he stuck his tongue out at his uncle, Tommy placing his hand to his chest and gasping dramatically. “Wow, you’re so fuckin’ rude. I can’t believe you’d do this to your own flesh and blood.”

Michael pointed to the right side of his head.

“...flesh and bone. Stop being so sassy tonight.”

Another stuck-out tongue.

As Michael began to eat, Tommy looked through the chest his nephew had been pointing to, finding the needles and threat he had been looking for. The blonde gave a fist pump in quiet celebration, heading back to where Michael had left the stuffed bee behind. He sat down and picked up the plush, surprised at how light it was. With his materials there, Tommy began to sew up the toy.

Wilbur had taught him how to sew during the Pogtopia days, when Tommy's clothes kept getting torn due to running from the Manberg guards. Wilbur eventually became far too busy to teach Tommy more, which was when Niki stepped in to continue teaching Tommy, and started teaching Tubbo as well.

Tommy didn't have the best childhood. Actually, that was an understatement. Tommy had one of the worst childhoods possible, with the constant threat of war and death looming over his head as he charged into battle with his family and friends. It was the worst experience Tommy could have ever gotten, and even though the wars were over, there were still the rising threats of new ones. Ones that he'd probably be forced to participate in.

But for now, everything was okay, and that's all Tommy wanted.

Michael was a bright young lad, appearing to adopt similar mannerisms to Tommy's own. While he'd never say it to anybody, Tommy was incredibly fond of his nephew. Michael had a loving family, and a wonderful home to live in. He didn't have to care about wars, or being exiled, or being imprisoned, or-

Tommy felt his heart rate drop for a moment, accidently pricking himself with the needle he was sewing with. "Shit," he muttered, quickly shaking his hand to alleviate the sting.

Michael looked over at him, hearing the curse. His ears were perked up and he oinked inquisitively. Tommy responded with a thumbs-up, letting out a fake laugh. Michael copied his actions, giving a similar thumbs-up motion with his hooves.

As Michael continued to eat, Tommy continued to sew, his mind suddenly a lot more crowded than before.

Michael slurped up the last of his meal, licking his lips happily. Carrots were always filling, especially when Tommy made them.

The piglin began to let out chirrs, gazing in Tommy's direction as he wiggled in his seat. Tommy looked up from what he was working on, eye softening when he saw how energetic and happy Michael was after the meal.

"Alright, I'm coming."

After removing Michael from his chair, Tommy brought him over to where he had previously played with his bee, setting the boy down carefully on the floor. "You ready for the best fuckin' surprise ever?"

Michael nodded rapidly, clapping his hooves and flapping his legs.

"Shut your eye."

Michael did so, one of his hooves rushing to cover up his functioning eye. The other hoof covered up his skull eye, despite not being able to see anything out of it. Tommy smiled fondly, placing the stuffed bee in front of his nephew. The bee was sewn up shut, a large red bow tied around its thick neck.

“You can look now.”

Michael removed his hooves and immediately started shrieking with excitement. He rushed forward, almost flattening himself into the plush toy. Tommy stepped back, folding his arms and leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Is your uncle the coolest, or what? Don’t answer that, I know I am.”

It was funny how despite being different species, Michael looked so much like Tubbo in the moment. Tommy recalled a similar situation with Tubbo that happened in the ravine of Pogtopia, and how it happened shortly after Quackity had joined the group. Quackity had gone to secretly fetch items from his old office, returning to Pogtopia with them alongside Tubbo’s beloved bee plush that had been abandoned on the former vice-president’s desk.

The bee was ragged and torn, but a still-recovering Tubbo had been happy beyond tears to have it back. He held it all day, with him only letting go as he slept that night. Tommy had slid the bee gently out of the older boy’s arms and tried to stitch it back up. It didn’t go as well as he had hoped, but Niki had found him underneath the moonlight, and was the one to assist in repairing the plush. Tommy had made Niki promise that she wouldn’t tell Tubbo it was him, but looking back at some of those messy cross-stitches, Tubbo probably figured it out within seconds.

Upon waking up, Tubbo found his newly-repaired bee and began to bleat excitedly, clutching the toy close to his chest and burying his face in it. It had been a moment of joy in the darkness of their situation, and certainly lifted Tommy’s own spirits.

Michael was acting just like his father did then, the memory causing a soft smile across the blonde’s features. Tommy was so lost in his thoughts though, he didn’t notice Michael rushing towards him. In the piglin’s excitement, he had forgotten the one rule his parents had set up for him.

He grabbed a hold of Tommy’s leg, squeezing it tightly in a hug.

Tommy's eyes shot open at the sudden contact, the pressure on his leg constricting him, preventing him from moving it. He couldn't move his leg, he couldn't move his leg, he couldn’t move his leg.

His voice caught in his throat, the walls of it tightening as his breathing sped up. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't cry out for anybody. All that was there was the searing pain of his wounds as his body was scraped along the ground, Dream's voice in his ears that Tommy couldn't run, that Tommy couldn't beg, that Tommy couldn't leave.

Michael had looked up at his uncle at that point, suddenly aware that the mood in the room had shifted drastically, and still clutching the leg. Tommy returned Michael’s look, trying to weakly shake his leg, which had become numb.

“Michael. Leg.”

It was two words, but Michael immediately realized what he had done, the piglin stepping back a few feet with an apologetic squeal. Unfortunately, Tommy’s head was now spinning, and couldn’t make sense of the room. He was real, he was real, he was real. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t back in the prison, his head-

Tommy collapsed to the ground, making Michael jolt. Michael started oinking nervously, trying to find out what was going on, and what he could do. Tommy’s head felt like it was going to split open, and he shut his eye tightly, hands clawing at the wooden floor as he tried to communicate with Michael, making sure not to scare him even more. “Brain’s upset.”

Tommy wasn’t able to open his eye to see what Michael’s response was, but Michael was frantically looking around for something that could help. When his parents were upset, he would curl up next to them, snuggling into their sides, but he couldn’t do this with Tommy. His fathers’ one rule had been to never touch Tommy, especially if his uncle wasn’t looking, and Michael had broken it on accident.

Going over everything he liked to do when scared, Michael’s eye landed on his bee plush. Whenever he was worried, he liked to hug it. Would his uncle like doing that too? Nervously, he tried nudging it towards Tommy, little by little. When he thought it was in good-enough range, he let out gentle honks, trying to get his uncle’s attention. It took a few minutes, but Tommy’s eye eventually opened slightly. It looked glazed and unfocused, glancing around the room for a moment before landing on the soft toy placed in front of him.

Slowly, he let go of the floor, the process taking several minutes for him to even reach out for it, but Michael waited the whole time. He gave the toy one move delicate shove, allowing it to roll until it stopped in front of Tommy with about a foot of distance between them. Once more, Tommy grabbing the plush took a while, his arm trembling, and his face pale, but eventually he got a grip of it, pulling it into his chest as quickly as he could.

“Thanks,” Tommy muttered weakly, Michael’s ears rising as he smiled.

It was about a half-hour later before Tommy fully calmed down, the comfort of the bee plushie combined with the gentle sounds of Michael’s chirrs lulling him into a more comfortable mindset.

Weakly he got up, the bee plush sitting in his lap as he rubbed away the tear stains. Tommy glanced over to his side, noticing Michael watching him carefully. His head was cocked to the side, and though he seemed happy that Tommy was up, his eyes showed worry for the older boy.

“I’m great, Michael,” Tommy lied a little. He was certainly feeling a lot better, but Michael probably wouldn’t understand if Tommy said he still felt a little disoriented. It was best to reassure the kid more than anything else. Smiling back at his nephew, Tommy carefully handed the bee plush back to him, the worry in Michael’s eyes being replaced with relief and joy.

With a grunt, Tommy hoisted himself up, praying that his arms or legs wouldn't give out again like they did before. He was still shaken up, and definitely not wanting to come in contact with anything else at the moment, his skin feeling cold and exposed from the aftermath. Michael watched him closely, taking a few steps away whenever Tommy would stumble in place, and looked like he was about to fall over. Letting out a sigh, Tommy looked over at Michael, gently smiling at him. "We could use a break. Do you have anything you want to do?"

Michael practically beamed.

"Hello~!" Tubbo slammed open the door, his mouth pulled into a cheeky grin.

Ranboo followed behind his husband, letting out an exhausted yawn as he carried a stack of leather almost up to his chin (and for Ranboo's height, that was saying something). "The world's most tired man is back, along with the living embodiment of a firework hyped up on crack."

"Ranboo, don't say that," Tubbo frowned, placing his hands on his hips. "You're nowhere near enough to be as colorful as a firework is."

"Are you implying that you're the tired one here?" Ranboo set down the stack of leather, beginning to brush remaining bits of meat from the leather off of his hands. "Because it seems like I had to do all the work."

"Hey, you're the one who said we should get leather!"

"And that to YOU somehow translated to "let's kill every cow in a four-mile radius". Now I've got gunk all over me."

"We-"

"OH MY GOD, WILL YOU BOTH PLEASE FUCKING SHUT UP?" Tommy yelled from where he sat on the carpet, spinning a plastic spinner that landed on the color red. Michael oinked in agreement, trying to reach the red spot on the plastic mat with his hind leg. Tubbo and Ranboo's conversation was immediately forgotten, the two watching in awe as their son was playing Twister.

"C'mon, big M. You've got this," Tommy encouraged. When Michael wasn't looking, Tommy carefully slid the mat closer together, making the spot reachable for him. Michael placed his leg down, letting out a squeal of victory. Tommy whooped excitedly, Michael raised a hand to give Tommy an air high-five, when he slipped and fell down, squealing in surprise.

"I know last time with Battleship was the weirdest I thought this could get, but I literally have no clue why you keep teaching him games out of his age range." Tubbo muttered, confused, before taking off his uniform and hanging it up on one of the hooks. Ranboo nodded, following Tubbo's actions with his own coat.

"Michael's a trooper!" Tommy folded his arms with satisfaction. "Next time I'm teaching him chess."

"Do you even know how to play chess?"

"Um, of course I do."

"Then why-"

"Okay!" Ranboo clapped his hands together, interrupting the conversation before it spiraled once more. "I assume you two had a good time?"

Tommy and Michael looking away from the couple awkwardly wasn't a good sign.

"Well, it was a good time," Tommy began to explain. "There was just a little accident though. I'll tell you two about it later when, y'know, somebody certain's asleep. But all you need to know is that Michael handled it really well." The blonde looked down at the piglin, flashing a fanged grin. Michael returned the smile, standing up on his stubby legs and rushing to Tubbo to give him a hug.

"How was the patrol thingy?" Tommy stood up as well, stretching as best as he could.

Ranboo and Tubbo were now the ones that looked away awkwardly.

"So somebody," Tubbo began, itching his cheek. "Might have suggested that we should get leather while we were out."

"And SOMEBODY," Ranboo flashed Tubbo a glance, folding his arms. "Decided to commit a mass cow genocide-"

"You know what! That story's not important right now!" Tubbo waved his hands frantically, laughing awkwardly as he avoided eye contact with a glaring Ranboo. "The point is, we didn't end up doing what we wanted to do-"

"Wonder who's fault that is-"

"-SO WE DECIDED TO DO IT ANOTHER TIME!" Tubbo finished, looking like he was about to start sweating buckets. "So, if it's okay, Tommy… could you maybe look after him again tomorrow?"

Tommy grinned again, nodding his head several times. "You can count on it, Tubbs. We definitely need to fuckin' talk about what happened tonight first, but hell yeah! Sounds good to me!"

"If you tell me Michael killed somebody, you're immediately fired as a babysitter and an uncle." Ranboo lifted up Michael from Tubbo's side, allowing the piglin to grab at his horn.

"Michael, if you ever kill somebody, don't tell your dads." Tommy whispered to Michael in piglin, fully knowing what was coming next once Michael giggled.

"Tommy, what did you say to him."

"Manslaughter is pog."

"YOU DID NOT-"

#*stares at word count* this is two times longer than the previous one what the fuck am I okay #anyway have more uncle Tommy and Michael content because I adore them and am manifesting wholesome canon interaction #dream smp #dsmp #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #michael #michael the piglin #c!michael #my writing #my post

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