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[male-reader-requests]

Unknown

Pairings: None

Word Count: 2,351

Warnings: This is a little short story so not a one-shot. This talks about Serial Killer stuff, specifically the Zodiac Killer. So uh, blood and gore. Be careful. I am also in the middle of getting together an actual update so don't worry!

-

I would not know them.

They would be chosen at random, by pure coincidence.

The game, the most dangerous game would be my game. The most dangerous game, the most dangerous prey, the most dangerous predator, they would become my prey. 

I do not know my target, so they will not know me. I will go at night, not caring for the dangers of being caught, for I would not be linked to them. I would not care for my appearance, for I do not need to impress them. 

I would find a couple, maybe they are together for a passionate night, or perhaps I've caught them just as they decide to split ends, but it will not matter, for no one will ever know. They would be alone, at a beach or on a lover's lane, but I would make sure it was clean, that there were no witnesses and no survivers. This will be my design.

I will shine a light, maybe my headlights or perhaps just a floodlight, at them so they are unable to see me. The light, if a floodlight, will be tapped to my gun. I will have a silencer, to make my act a bit more privet from prying ears.

 Whoever is in the passenger seat, whether a man or woman, will be shot once in the neck, and the driver I will shoot twice in the head. If the passenger lives I will shoot them again, perhaps in the chest, maybe in the stomach, I do not care is they survive anymore. 

I will shoot the driver again in the chest and again perhaps in the stomach, then I will shoot the passenger as many times and as recklessly as I want, for I do not care. In the end, I will unload an entire magazine into two people, and I will leave, leaving the two of them to rot unnoticed until morning. If either survives then that is their problem. 

In the morning, at around 6 AM, I will call the police, reporting a double homicide. If one of them survives then that will just be a blip in the system, a single count of homicide and a single count of an attempt at homicide. 

I will tell them I did it, but I will call them from a burner phone. I will proceed to crush said phone and throw it into a river, never to be seen again. 

I will be familiar in all the wrong ways, and I will be an ever-recurring nightmare.

I will become the Zodiac Killer of the 21st century.

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

Marissa sighed, looking at the mass of paperwork before her. Being a detective in California was surprisingly boring, especially when all you ever see is a one on one gunfight between rivals. Currently, the last thing she'd done that seemed even slightly interesting was her divorce, and that had been four years ago.

Light hair fell onto the desk before her, her head following. It was slow for some reason, there was nothing for her to do. Well, that was a lie. She could answer the phone ringing on her desk, she could fill out the paperwork before her, and she could go actually eat something, but here she was, debating.

She was drifting in and out of sleep, dozing as her partner August would say, but it was a warm afternoon, who could blame her?

A sharp crack came across her back, the pale woman yelping as her partner snapped her suspenders. August chuckled at her, obnoxiously slurping at cheap coffee in hand. Marissa glared at him, but it was halfhearted, holding no true anger.

"What was that for?" she asked, but she was eyeing the coffee in his hands, not really listening. She didn't really care, the snapping of her suspenders had become a greeting of August's ever since they were paired up, so she's grown used to it.

August just hummed, putting the coffee mug down on the cluttered desk, having to push a few papers so make room. The two of them hardly cared for germs, so when Marissa cupped the mug to herself he hardly batted an eyelash.

"We've got an assignment," August mumbled, his voice shadowed by drowsiness and a slight speech impediment. Marissa didn't move, truthfully she wished that August hadn't said anything. 

August, bless his heart, normally dealt with all the paperwork. This meant that they were almost completely ready to head out to wherever they were needed, and as much as Marissa just wanted to sleep she knew that this was probably important.

They would have to talk to the head of their department, an older man named Louis Ridgway before they could go, and Marissa truly wished they didn't have to. Ridgway wasn't a bad person, but he liked to make things seem far more interesting then they are. 

Marissa struggled with her jacket as the two of them made their way to his office, dodging interns, other detectives, and officers. Their department was always busy, considering so many people died in California, but it seemed there were even more people here now than there ever were.

August, used to Marissa's struggles, helped his shorter partner into her jacket, then opened the door for her as they entered Ridgway's office. Ridgway, all bushy eyebrows and droopy mustache, waved them over. 

He ignored the normal "sit down and listen as I tell you about the case" and made the two of them stand behind him as he pulled up a few things on his computer. Marissa, ever the nosey person, saw a few crime scene photos, the kind you'd expect to see with the yellow number cards and a bit of blood on the ground.  

The thing that really got her attention though was the other set of photos, ones that looked like carbon copies except that they had been taken with an older camera, the photos themselves obviously being older if the dates on the bottoms of them were right. 

Ridgway turned his monitor off, cutting Marissa's view. "There's been a murder," Ridgway said gruffly, ignoring how lame that sounded. There were tons of murders in California every day, even more, if you count car crashes and accidents.

"I want the two of you to check it out, see if it matches." Marissa blinked a few times, confused and tired, but August nodded, grabbing the pale woman by the shoulder and steering her through the crowded office area. 

Actually back to herself, Marissa looked at August in confusion, but the taller man just got into the driver's seat of the car, motioning for her to also get in. Rolling her eyes she complied, not that she really wanted to, buckling herself in.

She didn't know where they were going, who was murder, how many had been murdered, but she blamed that on her pension for spacing out. August probably knew. .....probably.

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

It was a 2-hour drive. It was a 2-hour drive for only 38 miles, San Francisco to Benicia, and Marissa slept the entire time. She knew she wasn't looking her best, but that never really mattered to her. 

Sleep rumbled hair and bags under her eyes the short woman got out of the car, accepting the lukewarm coffee August handed her with silent gratitude. The two of them got a few odd looks from local police, but that was more of their own fault, being in a completely different county tended to do that. Police were oddly territorial.  

One young man though, obviously just out of training from how much younger he was than the other officers, offered to bring them to the scene. He was all polite and charming, and Marissa was thankful, she and August had to deal with enough rude officers back at the department. 

The younger officer brought them through the yellow tape and through the mass of officers mostly loitering. The first thing Marissa got to see was a shit box car, obviously older than average and painted in a fading teal that patched out to show a bit of rust. She then noticed the blood. 

There was blood smeared on the passenger door, backseat door on the passenger side, and in the window of the passenger door. There was a pool, or what was probably a pool at one point, of dried blood on the gravel at the backseat door, but Marissa couldn't look further for her view was blocked by a stocky man.   

The man himself she didn't recognize, once she'd actually looked up, but she could tell by the way he held himself that he was the head honcho here, and that he wasn't very happy with the two of them being there. 

He was tall, taller than Marissa but then again almost everyone was. He was older than the two of them, his face was saggy in a way you only get from heavy drinking and it was twisted in a sarcastic sneer.

"Well, what do we have here?" His voice, like his face, had a strangely saggy aspect to it, and Marissa hated it immediately. As rude as it was she wished she could zone out now, but August had put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her focus.

"Detectives Shultcher and Lynn, we're from San Francisco." August and Marissa pulled their badges out from their pockets, Marissa ending up holding hers upside down. 

The saggy faced man seemed to sneer a bit less, but it never left completely. He smiled down at Marissa, then moved to look up at August. His smile was fake, holding no joy or happiness, only restrained rudeness. 

He stepped back, letting the two of them through, but you could see the hesitation in his motions, the way he didn't want them there. Police were oddly territorial.

At the actual scene itself, there was a woman and a young man, both of them must have been part of the forensics force. The two of them were collecting samples from the blood, off the car and off the gravel. They had a chest next to them, full of little sample bags. 

Marissa hated dealing with Forensics specialists. It may just be a bit of prejudice, but every single Forensics team she's dealt with in San Francisco were rude beyond beliefe and treated her and August like they were stupid, like they hadn't gone through any training.  

The two of them hardly even noticed August and her, quietly talking to themselves as they worked. The guy apparently said something funny, making the woman laugh lightly. They left the two of them alone. 

Splitting up August went to talk to the first responding police officers, leaving Marissa to survey the scene. This is how they always did it, this is why the two of them worked so well together. August always talked to suspects and officers, leaving the scene to Marissa. 

Marissa walked a perimeter, looking around at different angles, knowing that anything could help. As she looked around something started to bother her, this scene, this crime itself, was oddly familiar, oddly something she felt she should know. 

With furrowed eyebrows and confusion Marissa continued to look around, but as she got closer to the Forensics team she started to see all the things that looked familiar, making her even more confused. 

On the other side of the car, Marrisa saw that the driver's windowsill was covered in blood, so was the seat and steering wheel.  It was odd how familiar all of this seemed, but there wasn't much she could do until the Forensics told her about what they'd found.

Walking back over to August she zoned out, trying to place why all of this was so God damned familiar, but she was getting nowhere, only getting frustrated in herself. She drank the coffee that August had given her early, she zoned in and out of August questioning, and she debated on falling asleep as she stood there, but as per usual when she wanted to sleep she wasn't able too.

August, finally finishing up, guided the two of them over to the Forensics team, who were started to clean up. The guy noticed first that they were coming over, lightly pushing the girl in the shoulder.

The guy was all smiles, skinny with a pair of wireframe glasses. The woman was also skinny, but very tall, looking like a beanpole. The two of them told them about what they'd found, what they thought may have happened, and about the two victims.

Victim one was a young woman named Stacy Lamburdas. She lived not that far away, she was married, worked at a little restaurant, and had been the driver. She had been shot 4 times and did not survive.

Victim two was a young man named Darcy Monroe. He was one of the many people that Stacy had been having affairs with. He also lived not far away, working as a deliveryman for the post office. He had been shot 8 times. Miraculously he survived. 

Marissa was furiously scribbling into a notepad she had, taking down all the details she thought was important.

"It's funny isn't it?" the guy said, pushing his glasses up. Marissa raised an eyebrow in question, but she didn't look up.

"It's the 51st anniversary, and it's a complete carbon copy." Marissa now looked up, more confused, the woman seemed to notice.

"It's the 51st anniversary of the first killings of the Zodiac Killer, and this scene is very similar," Marissa stalled, his vision tunneling. The two Forensics kept talking, August keeping the conversation going, but Marissa wasn't paying attention.

This is why it was so familiar, why this all looked like something she knew.

The 51st anniversary huh?

Lord help them if this was a copy cat.

[male-reader-requests]

Happy Pride!

I just realized it was June, big oof there, but Happy Pride! I hope you have a wonderful month!

[male-reader-requests]

Hi do you write for Riverdale characters x male reader?

Unfortunately I've actually never seen any of Riverdale, I'm sorry!

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Dog Days Pt. 2

Pairings: Mirio Togata x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Second installment! Slightly angsty I guess, I could not remember for the life of me where I was going with this considering it's been 2 months but you know, is what it is. It does have a very small bit of potential sexual harassment, so that's a warning there, but nothing actually happens!

-

Midoriya felt horrible. 

Mirio was still in the middle of his fight, fighting pretty playfully to tire out Tenya, but the green-haired male was hoping for him to finish faster. 

He'd been talking to himself, normal, and it had been about (M/N). Said male had gotten curious and came over to question him and Midoriya had freaked out. 

Really he hadn't meant to! He'd been so absorbed into his own world that he hadn't noticed that (M/N) had gotten so close until he'd tugged at his uniform!

Midoriya was still on the floor, laying down this time as he looked at the ceiling as if it was the thing causing all his problems. He had wanted to talk to (M/N), to understand his quirk a bit better, and get to know the tall male. (M/N) was dating Mirio, and Midoriya loved Mirio like a brother so he wanted to know his significant other. Then he'd gone and fucked up. 

Tilting his head a bit Midoriya could see that (M/N) was sitting in the corner of the room, relaxed against the wall with one knee propped up. He looked quite calm actually, but he was glaring harshly at the floor.

Midoriya had struggled with himself enough to recognize that (M/N) was beating himself up mentally, that he was replaying the encounter over and over again to see what he'd done wrong and could have done better, but there was nothing.

(M/N) had done nothing wrong, Midoriya was just jumpy and had reacted badly. 

Midoriya felt horrible and knew he should approach the other male and apologize, but he couldn't find the strength to drag himself up. What if (M/N) reacted badly to Midoriya approaching him? What if he didn't accept the apology and was pissed? Was he pissed?

Midoriya was working himself up, mumbling again. But before his own mumbling could get too loud he noticed someone else was mumbling. Not very many people had a habit like that in the class. Confused he looked over (M/N) to see if it was him, but he was just sitting against the wall with his chin against his chest, mouth and nose buried in his jacket collar.

Midoriya looked around a bit more, going from person to person only to find nothing. Confused he sat up, trying to get a better angle of everything, and this time he found purple in the form of Mineta. He was partially in the shadows, this stupid grin resting on his face, a stupid grin that Midoriya, unfortunately, knew very well.

The girls could all take care of themselves, Mineta was more or less just annoying, and the guys had all given up trying to reprimand him. Well, Tenya still tried but that was just part of his personality.

Mineta was currently eyeing up Jirou, who was still quite out of it due to (M/N)'s venom. It was of no surprise really that Mineta would go after her. (M/N) had explained to all of them beforehand that his venom in the small dose he used would make them sleepy and pliant, having a fuzzy memory of everything after it had worn off. So it was no surprise that Mineta was going after the one girl that wouldn't remember it very well. 

Midoriya moved to stand up, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw that (M/N) was slowly getting up. The tall male was leaning against the wall still, but he had his feet under him so he was crouched down, his eyes still closed. As Midoriya looked at him in curiosity he watched as those red eyes moved about, tracking something.

Belatedly he realized the taller male was tracking Mineta who had his back turned to (M/N). His face was against the wall, he looked relaxed, but Midoriya knew the signs of tensing muscles. 

He was moving slowly to stand up, close to the wall in a way you could only ever expect of a spider. 

Once he stood up completely (M/N) was terrifying. He was taller than everyone else in the class, and while only being dressed in jeans and a hoodie he looked almost like a villain. Is that why he'd freaked out earlier?

(M/N)'s hands were trailing on the wall as he walked forward, silent as a free hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket pulled out the gun he used for his venom. 

(M/M) was an all-over fighter, he could do short-range or long-range, but with long-range he couldn't use his venom which could incapacitate someone with one hit. With that in mind, the support class had made him a little gun he could load with his venom to use so he could inject it in a better way.

Midoriya looked around, looking to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone was watching Mirio and Tenya fight. He watched as (M/N) pulled the little vile that held the venom out, holding it against elongated canine teeth the collect the venom much like people do with snakes. 

It only took a second or two for the vile to fill up, for (M/N) to be standing right behind Mineta.

He crouched down, still towering over the purple male, but Mineta finally seemed to realize something was wrong. Midoriya watched as he shakily looked up, meeting a mass of red and (E/C) eyes looking down at him.

Mineta tried to scream, (M/N) clamping a hand over his mouth with a light shushing sound.

Midoriya looked around again, but everyone was ignoring what was happening. He seemed to be the only one who had noticed, the only one close enough to hear the two of them.

Two of (M/N)'s hands come out into Mineta's sight, one holding the gun, the other holding the vile. 

"You know what's in this?" he whispered, shaking the little vile of (F/C) venom. Mineta nodded erratically, trying to squirm out of (M/N)'s grip but was unable to move. 

"Then you know what would happen if I injected more than I should, right?" Mineta nodded again, tears almost coming to his eyes.

Midoriya went back to earlier this afternoon again, to when (M/N) had been explaining his abilities. His venom was always a set amount, half an ML mixed with some solution to be injected via needle darts from his gun. It caused exhaustion basically, zapping anyone hit of their energy.

He'd told them that he would only use more if absolutely necessary, mostly due to Bakugo saying he was more resilient than the rest of them, but had proceeded to tell them what would happen if he used more.

It was still safe between 1 and 3 ML, depending on the persons size and their health records, but once you got past that it got dangerous. He had a Neurotoxic Venom, the kind that was used to paralyze prey in actual spiders. 

He had explained that the general dose, besides the memory haze, would cause muscle spasms, cramps, twitching, sweating, drooling, and gooseflesh. As the dose got larger it would start to cause painful abdominal cramps, strange sensations, unstable blood pressure, and severe pain in the limbs.

Then, with a blush that rivaled Mina's hair, he had said in rare cases it could cause damage to Autonomic effects, such as temperature control, digestion, bladder control, and unfortunately sexual function. Basically, if he gave a bigger dose than safe he could cause any of the males to get a painful erection. He'd sighed after that, filling a little vile with his venom to show them all the color of it so they'd recognize it. 

Coming back to himself Midoriya's eyes focused again, looking to (M/N) and Mineta who had been talking softly. Or (M/N) had been talking with Mineta nodding along the best he could. 

(M/N) pulled back after a second or two of silence, putting the gun back in his pocket but keeping a firm hand over Mineta's mouth.

"Now I suggest you find a new hobby or you'll end up confused and dazed, not having any memory of the next 12 hours," (M/N) smiled lightly, head tilting a bit to the side, "You understand, right?"

Mineta nodded aggressively again, (M/N) smile getting larger before patting him on the back, standing up, and moving away from him. Midoriya watched Mineta for a second or two more before looking back to (M/N), flinching when he locked eyes with him.

(M/N) was just standing there, partially in the shadows staring at him. It was horrifying.

"(M/N)!" a voice called out, Mirio coming into the room with a shining smile.

Immediately all of the murderous intent left (M/N)'s system, a soft smile so different from the one a few minutes ago coming to his face. He looked exhausted, he had before but now even more so. 

Mirio came over, talking excitedly and waving his hands around, gently elbowing the taller male in the ribs as he laughed at something. (M/N) didn't say anything, just smiled and nodded, ruffling blond hair when he had to leave for his next fight.

Mirio's smile fell once (M/N) was out on the field, turning to look at Midoriya instead of his boyfriend through the glass.

"What happened?" he asked, face void of the happiness it had shown with seconds before. Now he just looked concerned, confused and concerned.

"I don't really know," Midoriya started, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. "I'd gotten lost in thought so he'd startled me when he tugged on my shirt and then he scared Mineta when he was creeping on Jirou.

Mirio sighed, looking back to the glass that protected them from the fight happening below. (M/N) was fighting Mina, the pink girl easy to spot against the mass of rubble around them. She was laughing, struggling to breath as she slapped her thighs. Mirio smiled lightly at that, (M/N) had said some dumb joke in order to distract her. Partial for the fight and partial for himself.

"Yeah that's (M/N)," he chuckled softly, watching as the young girl fell over, laughing so much she was crying with (M/N) frantically crouched over her, clearing panicking as if he'd done something wrong. "He's always nice to everyone, easily excitable but he's also pretty awkward."

Mirio then let out a slightly forced laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "He's also always been someone who acts, so if Mineta was being a creap then I can't really blame (M/N)." 

Midoriya nodded, watching as Mina struggled to get up, (M/N) helping her the best he could with their height difference.

Maybe he'd just caught (M/N) on a bad day? Hopefully, they could be friends, or at least get along.

[male-reader-requests]

Ahaha

Ahaha, yes....here we are.

It is currently May 18th as I write this, and I'm apologizing over the fact that it's been 2 months since I've put in an update.

School is kinda screwing me over, though I am almost done for the year so thank the lord, and all of my spare time is being taken over by MCYT.

I have watched a disgusting amount of Technoblade, leading me down late-night Minecraft rabbit holes to finding tiny little Youtubers like QluDoe.

All of my time and energy is going into Minecraft and school work, but I do want to get back into writing so I'm going to finish up the 2 prompts I had left off on, and I'm probably gonna write stuff for MCYT.

Anywho, have a good day/night! Love y'all!

[male-reader-requests]

I thought tumblr got rid of the porn bots

[male-reader-requests]

A Fateful Meeting

[I'm so sorry I've been gone so long, schools kicking my ass right now! I am working on requests, I'll be able to get more out soon, I'm so sorry and thank you for your patients!]

Pairings: Romeo x Juliet

Word Count: 2,989

Warnings: Short Story, not a One Shot. Uhh I wrote this 3 years ago, it was technically for an assignment but I kinda went off. It kinda talks about Yandere themes and kinda Serial killer stuff so careful there. I've been working on a sort of part 2 so if you like this let me know.

-

Tragedy, a word to describe great loss, sadness, a mix of the two.  The life of Juliet was considered a tragedy, and it held every right to be called that.

Juliet Capulet, the only child of Lord Capulet, a young woman held in high regard, died far too young for anyone to be comfortable with the number.

Young Juliet was a love-struck fool, falling hard and fast, within the time scale of around 5 days, but she had loved him, she had loved Romeo Montague.

Young Juliet's love was her downfall, her utter and complete trust in Romeo became her undoing.

 Our story starts at a party, a place of mirth and mischief, the place of Juliet's believed salvation and Romeo's new fixation.

-

The party was in full swing, people mingling and dancing, servers bustling around, all talking louder than civilly welcome.  All of it had been planned out perfectly, everything was wondrous, the weather was without fault, the music was superb, but there was one piece missing, one-piece meant for the world to watch in wonder.  Juliet sat up in her room, watching herself in the mirror on her vanity.  The music that filtered from rooms away was still quite loud, none of it what she enjoyed, she could see the appeal of it, but not tonight.

It didn't matter what her Father or Mother, or Paris for the matter said, tonight was dreadful, everything wrong in feeling and aesthetics.  Her mother had chosen the dressing she would wear, the large garment sitting in the back of the equally large closet within her possession, but it wasn't something Juliet wanted to wear, let alone look at.

 Large, poofy, covered in many layers, and an atrocious shade of pink Juliet had promptly thrown it into the back of her closet once her Mother was out of sight.  Sadly it was still there.  It was like an insistent ich, always in the back of your mind no matter how much you try to ignore it, but Juliet had a backup plan.

Granted, it wasn't a good back up plan, but she had one, so she was doing better than most people.  With a sigh that was most definitely not ladylike, Juliet got up, grabbing the dress her Maid had set out earlier at the revelation of the hideous pink monstrosity taking up the majority of the closet.

This one was a pale blue with white flowers decorating it, it wasn't flashy, it wasn't eye-catching, but it was beautiful in a simplistic way, a way that appealed to Juliet more than the other one.  Without anyone she truly felt she needed to impress Juliet left her face bare of makeup, leaving her hair to fall over her shoulders in unkempt waves.

She didn't look important, she didn't look like someone born under a Lord, but that was what she wanted, she didn't wish to be noticed tonight.  Parties were something she dreaded, but her mother loved them, so there were always many gone and done and others planned for the future within a month's time.

The closer she got to the main ballroom the louder everything became, the more the sound grated on her nerves, the more she wished to disappear and never look back on the estate she called home.  People welcomed her warmly as she walked through the crowds, hands patting her back, mouths kissing the backs of her hands, false pleasantries passing from person to person.

"Juliet!" A shrill voice called out, the sound of it make the young woman's figure go rigid.  Her Mother was a menace, someone to avoid at all costs, but there was nothing that could be done. The taller woman promptly stomped up to her child, a pale hand finding its way to grip at the sleeve of the blue dress, hardly suppressed rage burning behind her eyes. 

"What are you wearing," she whispered harshly, or as much as someone could whisper over the swell of music and others speech.  This what was to be expected, Lady Capulet would take nothing except perfection, and Juliet had defied that.

"A dress," she replied simply, knowing that if she started to tell her Mother all of the things she didn't like about the pink dress the woman would start crying in front of everyone, and Juliet wouldn't wish that on anyone.

The older woman's eyebrows pinched in irritation, she could see the underlying rebellion Juliet was doing but said nothing, only shook her head in disappointment, removing her hand from Juliet's dress.  Wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders she started to direct her around, forcing her to face the music and be polite to the people that hadn't recognized her earlier.

The people this time talked to her softer, treated her differently as if she needed more respect and less danger.  She wasn't made of glass, but due to her lineage and Father she was treated as such; she was the special teacup only brought out for the best of guests.  Juliet smiled at everyone her Mother made her meet, she kept herself pleasant and calm, keeping up in the conversations that were started.  She could see her Mother's disapproving look from the corner of her eye, Lady Capulet heavily unhappy that she wasn't just nodding along.

Lady Capulet had tried her best at turning her daughter into the perfect woman, she had taught her to stand in the background, to be seen and not heard, but Juliet was talking, she was keeping up with the men and women she engaged conversation in.  A light smile graced Juliet's face, and it was like a spotlight, she was glowing, looking radiant compared to how she had looked earlier, but this was not as she was raised. 

 Lady Capulet hid her anger well, making sure her face didn't pinch with distaste as she tried to steer her daughter away.  Juliet acted as if she didn't feel the insistent tugging, planting her feet to keep herself within the circle of people she was conversing with.  Her Mother's anger fell in waves, much like the ones that beat on the rocks at the ocean, but those waves could be seen and felt, these could only be felt.

Soon her Mothers tugging became too much, causing young Juliet to bid farewell, being drug away without another word. "What was that about?" her mother hissed, rage seeping into her words.

Juliet lightly shook her head, eyes glued to the floor to make sure she didn't trip and make a fool of herself. The silence only fueled her Mother's silent rage, making her walk faster to force Juliet to keep up. A light prickling sensation fell upon Juliet at this moment, making her snap her head up. 

She glanced around quickly, trying to find the source of her discomfort, only for her eyes to lock with dark brown ones behind a silver mask. The male was of average height, brown hair to match his eyes, but Juliet had never seen him, even with the mask she could tell he was someone she had never met. 

Her steps faltered, making her stumbled and almost fall, her Mothers arm around her shoulders the only thing keeping her up. The only thing she got was a disappointed tut before being hauled back onto her feet, her Mother keeping the same pace as before, Juliet stumbling a bit before getting her footing right again.

Looking behind herself Juliet looked for those brown eyes with the silver mask, only to find they were gone. An odd mixture of sadness and desperation flowed through the young woman, making her pinch her eyebrows slightly, but quickly changed her facial expression to a blank, passive look, not wanting to draw her Mothers attention.

 Juliet was then paraded up a flight of steps by her Mother, people going out of their way to kiss her hands, to tell her how pretty she was, wanting to get all of the extra points with the lady of the party. Juliet held no enjoyment in making others feel less than and found it boring to peacock around in a dress that was uncomfortable, flashy, and in general an eyesore. Her Mother was the definition of that.

The older woman was dressed in a large, ridiculously large, red and gold dress. It drug along behind her for at least a meter, the mass of lace and fabric most likely ruined by people carelessly stepping on it and having been drug through spilled drinks and mud brought in from outside. The woman, despite the dress being so different from what everyone else was wearing, acted like it was best, strutting from wall to wall, up and down the stairs, making sure everyone saw the large mess of fabrics. She was peacocking, and with the way that her hair was put up in a large bun she looked the part.

 The dress Lady Capulet had picked out for Juliet wasn't much better. It wasn't as large, but it was definitely as long. It was layered on the sides, covered in bits of lace and ruffles, and if it wasn't such an alarming shade of pink it probably would have looked nice.

 Ripped from her thoughts Juliet struggled to grasp at what had forced her to focus, but that prickling feeling was back stronger this time. Another quick look around made her lock eyes with the brown ones again.

 The male was closer this time, but he made no move to advance, Juliet confused until her Mother delivered a pinch to her shoulder. Standing in front of her was Count Paris, cousin of the prince, and a man after her heart.

Paris was a handsome man, and with his amount of wealth he had women throwing themselves and their children at him from all angles, Juliet's Mother was not an exception to this. The older woman kept her arms around Juliet's shoulders as if she was making sure she wouldn't bolt like a frightened animal.

Juliet welcomed the thought of sighing dramatically before walking away, but that would lead to her Mother being in a worse mood and possibly bringing her Fathers mood down as well. She was in no mood to face the wrath of both parents.

Finally giving into her Mothers prompting Juliet curtsied and inclined her head to the County, who smiled lightly, nodding back at her as she stood tall. Juliet wasn't much of someone to be a pushover, forcing herself to stand tall, even if she was shorter than everyone around her. Juliet's Mother started to speak, quite animatedly, to be honest, keeping the Counties attention away from her distracted daughter. Juliet was thankful for what she was doing, knowing that the majority of her attention had gone to trying to find the male in the silver mask again. 

He was still there, mostly lurking in the shadows so not draw attention to himself, but Juliet could find him in a hoard of people she'd never seen. Those brown eyes narrowed a bit, and Juliet felt as if she was being judged, as if those very eyes were seeing everything she'd done in her life so far, weighing her very soul.

Quickly, Juliet turned back to Paris and her Mothers conversation, waiting a few seconds for the perfect timing. "I'm sorry," she started in this soft voice that would appease her Mother, "I need to excuse myself for a few minutes." Juliet could tell her Mother wasn't happy about being interrupted, but Paris nodded to her, letting her go from the conversation.

Moving quickly the young woman went down the stairs as fast as she could, rounding the corner only to step back when she ran into someone. Aborted apologies tried to soothe things over, all of them real but cut off only to introduce another. 

Stuttering off into silence Juliet looked up, her eyes widening as she looked at those brown eyes, this time without the silver mask. His skin was fair, a bit on the pale side, but it went well with the dark hair and dark eyes. Reaching out tentatively Juliet half expected him to ignore it, starting when a warm hand slid into her own. Romeo, at which she didn't know was his name at the time, pulled her onto the dance floor, his movements fluid and graceful, while Juliet moved with an awkward gait, nervous beyond her mind.

The two of them moved around until she was comfortable, keeping clear of Lady Capulet and Count Paris, keeping each other closer than someone should comfortably keep a stranger. Juliet kept her head down, making sure to not step on anyone's feet, the fear of embarrassing herself or her partner griping her heart in cold hands. Romeo then switched his stance a bit, enough to draw Juliet's attention, only for it to get drawn away when a shrill voice called for her. The young woman gasped lightly, looking up at those brown eyes, which held a bright twinge of mischief. Juliet gasped again when Romeo started to drag her away, bringing the two of them up a flight of stairs, away from the maid who had called out for her.

Despite not being on the dance floor Romeo continued to spin Juliet around, the blue of her dress looking like the waves of the ocean, calm and pleasant one second, large and crashing the next. Juliet giggled as the two of them danced to a beat of their own music, the songs the band playing being far to slow for the way they were dancing.

 Romeo then started to spin her again, bringing the two of them to the other side of the balcony so they could descend the other flight of stairs, giggling and panting as they ran away from Juliet's maid who had just managed to find them.

 The two of them danced, swaying or spinning, Romeo dipping Juliet down with an added flare of drama, but Juliet could care less. Romeo pulled Juliet close, making it so that they could talk normally, not needing to yell over the loud music and other party patrons.

"What is your name?" he questioned, which he followed up with a chaste kiss to her steadily reddening cheeks.

 Juliet stalled for a moment. Normally when she told someone her name they were confused, people constantly thinking she was younger or older, other mildly angry, some just plain happy. Though, it didn't matter how you felt, everyone she had met started to treat her like the finest of table wear, treating her like glass, like a teacup.

"Juliet," she said after a minute, keeping her last name to herself. Romeo nodded, pressing another kiss to her cheeks before looking down at her, a doped like grin resting on his face.

"Romeo," he said, mirth residing in his speech, "my name is Romeo." At the time Juliet had been too preoccupied to notice that both of them hadn't used their family names, neither knowing that they were on the wrong sides of the board.

The two giggled some more, Romeo pressing chaste kisses to reddened skin before placing a single, quick kiss to Juliet's lips. Juliet, who had never kissed anyone, hardly knew what to do, but it was over before her brain decided to help. The two of them blushed brightly, laughing like lunatics as they swayed out of beat with the music.

"Juliet!" an angry voice seethed, making the two of them freeze up, Romeo fixing himself sooner than Juliet.

Romeo grabbed Juliet's hands, dragging her with him, the two of them just hardly missing Lady Capulet and Paris. With barely stifled laughter Romeo pressed another kiss to Juliet before the two had to run off again, both of their faces wide with smiles that made their cheeks hurt.

Kissing and running and smiling and laughing, the two soon grew tired. Their kisses became more chaste, affectionate but quick, their running becoming sluggish, smiles falling due to the pain in their faces, and their laughs turning to wheezes. It was a miracle itself they weren't caught sooner, but Lady Capulet was like a well-timed thunderstorm.

Lady Capulet came stomping up to the two of them while Romeo towered over Juliet, helping her up from the ground which she had slipped on. The two were giggling a bit, but their happiness was shot down the second they noticed the older woman.

Reaching forward she gripped at Juliet's arms, pulling her daughter away. Juliet fought a bit, straining to look over her shoulder at Romeo, who looked at her like a lovesick puppy.

"Juliet," Lady Capulet hissed out, making her look away from Romeo, missing the flash of understanding go through his eyes. When she looked back she saw sadness, but also some hidden emotion she wished she'd realized was there sooner. The sudden mood change shocked her, forcing her to look up at her Mother.

"You mustn't talk to them," she hissed out again, confusing Juliet farther. "You can't talk to the Montagues, Juliet." It was like a puzzle, all of the pieces finally fitting together.

The mask was to hide his face, making it so he could enter the party, and his family name meant she had never seen him before. Rumors had it that all of the Montagues had dark eyes and equally as dark hair, and Romeo held up to that.

As Juliet was dragged away by her Mother she had a passing thought, a simple one, but it was there."What have I done?"

[male-reader-requests]

Dog Days Pt.1

Pairings: Mirio Togata x Male!Reader 

Word Count: 2,344

Warnings: This is technically part two to Puppy Love but it can be read as a stand-alone. This is also going to be split into 2 parts just because this one is already stupidly long, and I promise the next installment of this will be better and have more to do with the request!

-

When people first meet Mirio they tend to akin him to the sun. He's very bright and nice and lives to make people happy, and that's who he is. He doesn't hide behind a mask of lies to please others, that's just who he is.

When people meet (M/N) on the other hand they always think he's lying. No matter how nice and polite he is to everyone around him they always think he's some sort of delinquent, that he's a horrible person. "There's no way someone that tall could be good, no way someone with a quirk like that is a decent person."

Sometimes (M/N) wishes they were right.

(E/C) eyes shown with disdain as they looked on at the wreckage before them, blinking lazily as red shown in the dark. Mirio had somehow convinced him, despite (M/N) really not wanting to, to come see class 1-A and help out with training. It had seemed like a good idea, sort of, but now (M/N) just wanted to go to sleep.

This had all started because of that broccoli haired boy, what was his name? Midio? Medusa? Mizuza? Whatever his name was he'd found (M/N) and Mirio sometime this morning.

The two of them had been outside, Mirio messing with the flowers and grass while (M/N) worked on a paper for his History class. It was an odd, but cute sight if you ever saw it in person. Mirio had his head pillowed on one of (M/N)'s thighs, the taller male making use of his many pairs of hands. Two hands were typing away at the laptop in his lap, two of them were propping him up against the ground, and the other two were playing with golden hair. 

Truthfully Mirio would have loved to have (M/N)'s undivided attention, but him passing his classes was also important so he chose to stamp down on that feeling. It was a nice and sunny day, warm and on the weekend. The two of them didn't have any plans but they did want to spend the time together, and Mirio had used that as a weapon. 

Soon after (M/N) had finished his essay the green boy had shown up, talking to Mirio about some kind of training that (M/N) was too tired to remember but somehow the two of them had gotten dragged to a cityscape training field.

Aizawa was there, looking as tired as (M/N) felt, along with 19 students. Scratch that, there was 20, one of them was just ridiculously short. 

All of them were dressed out of uniform, most likely in their hero costumes, and were staring at Mirio and (M/N) as if they were forgien objects. 

(M/N) sighed, (E/C) eyes closed as his hands stuffed themselves in the multitude of pockets in his clothing. He hated dealing with children, 99% of them were afraid of spiders, but he hated dealing with teenagers more due to them not having come to terms with their fear of spiders. He wasn't a mean guy, but when someone is being rude to you over something you can't control it can make you pretty pissy.

And now here (M/N) was, looking at the wreckage brought on by an anger issue having pomeranian. He was hiding, well not really hiding but going stealthily behind the profanity-wielding child, in the shadows in a hope that they'd just call the match off.

(M/N) wasn't really much of a fighter. He could fight well, hell he could kill a man if he so pleased, but that wasn't really his thing. Due to the arachnid-ness of his being, he was much stronger than other people. Like actual spiders, he was somewhere between 100 and 150 times stronger in proportion to his weight, so (M/N) decided to use that strength to do wreckage clearing and rescue missions.

But now this blond Bitch was getting on every single nerve in his body and making him think of changing over to a confrontation hero. 

"Come out you eight-legged freak!" the blonde yelled, hands sparking as he shouted to the sky. 

(M/N) sighed as he sat on the ground, head propped up by one set of elbows as the others slowly gathered silk from his back. The kid was good, he could admit that, but he needed lots of polish. A literal shit load of polish, and then he would be a great hero.

With another sigh (M/N) looked up at the sky in wonder, wondering why he had to have been the one here, before whistling sharply. It got the kid's attention quickly, spinning around ready to attack, only for his hands to get attached to his body by a mass of silk slowly turning him into a cocoon. 

He thrashed about, screeching as he slowly tilted back before falling with a less than dignified yelp. Groaning as he forced himself up off the ground (M/N) moved over to the kid, watching as he yelled out some pretty creative insults. (M/N) then promptly sat on his chest, ripping the ribbon off of the kids neck before holding it up in the air. 

A buzzer went off before some red-haired kid made his way into the wreckage. Not wanting to see the kid mauled (M/N) got up, leaving the kid to pick his friend up. On the way out he met Mirio, giving the blond the ribbon that was meant for the two of them. 

"You were great out there!" the blond was practically vibrating. He'd always enjoyed watching (M/N) use his quirk, watching him fight. "Yeah?" (M/N)'s voice was low and tired, but there was a slight smile on his face as he gently ruffled the blonde's hair.

He left after that, Mirio entering the training area to watch as Bakugo was drug off by Kirishima.

-

Izuku didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't exactly it.

Earlier that day he'd found Mirio and uh... his boyfriend? together. They'd been talking softly about something but had stopped when Izuku had approached them. He then word dumped on them about how his class was doing some kind of special training and that it would be much appreciated if they could come and help.

Mirio had jumped right on, but the other boy had been a bit hesitant. Izuku could tell why now.

Mirio and (M/N) had thrown everyone's names into a bag and were drawn at random, fighting whoever until they either got through the whole class or were too tired to continue. The fights had all been stupid easy so far, Mirio taking everyone out quickly, or making them surrender. 

(M/N)'s fights had been a bit messier. It was obvious he was uncomfortable fighting, his strength going on display when he'd hit through a wall on a missed punch. Everyone was wary of him, they knew nothing about how he fought and what kind of strengths he had other than the eyes and the arms. 

The first person against (M/N) had ended up being Jiro. It had been a quick match, (M/N) capturing the girl in silk, but now after she seemed slightly dazed as she sat on the floor in the back of the room. 

As Izuku looked around the room he realized that everyone that (M/N) had fought was actually more or less dazed, looking extremely sleepy. Confused, and a bit concerned Izuku made his way over to Jiro who had been hit first, but was cut off as Aizawa declared (M/N) the winner of his fight between him and Bakugo.

Mirio went to go greet the other male before going to his fight, (M/N) coming in looking tired.

There were soot marks all over his skin thanks to dodging Bakugo's attacks, and Izuku watched as he rubbed at his eyes, smearing it like cheap eyeliner. He watched as (M/N) yawned and made his way over to a corner before sitting, letting his head fall back and close his (E/C) eyes. The red ones stayed open.

It was a bit unnerving to look at that, to watch as pure red eyes moved around in their sockets to look around. It was hard to figure out where they were looking exactly since they were one color without a pupil, but Izuku got the general idea that he was looking around at everything. 

Midoriya had heard things about (M/N) from other students and in passing, most of it coming from Mirio gushing about him at any given point, but he knew he was strong. 

A lot of people, mostly the second years, seemed weirded out that (M/N) had already decided to become a rescue hero. It wasn't very common that people decided what kind of hero they would become in their 3rd year, most waited until they had a bit of experience to see what they were best at, and even then most people wanted to become confrontational heroes, to be the person who took down the bad guy and saved everyone. (M/N) seemed content to stick to the shadows.

Maybe it had to do with his arachnid quirk, not wanting to be seen or to be put in any danger? Maybe it was just a personal preference though?

Midoriya hadn't realized it, as per usual, but he was mumbling to himself. Lost in his own little world he didn't notice that 6 red eyes had shifted to look at him, (S/T) ears tuned into the mess of words pouring from his mouth.

For (M/N) he was used to people talking about him behind his back, he was odd even in a world of superheroes. He had 6 arms and 8 eyes, he was far from normal so people talked about him. Most of it wasn't very good, people talking about how creepy he was and how he wouldn't be a good hero because he wasn't good with people, but the drivel coming from the bush-boy was statistics and questions about his quirk. 

All of it curiosity without any of the disgust and distrust.

Curious, (M/N) focused all 6 red eyes on the boy, his figure slowly coming into focus.

Like an actual spider (M/N)'s eyes were put into groups for seeing different things. 3 of them were for noticing motion in a blurry wide-angle vision, 3 of them were specifically for judging the distance between things, and the 2 that weren't red were the only ones that actually focused on things and saw in color. These ones were for locking onto things when he needed to. 

Right now the green-haired boy was a blurry figure that actually just looked like a tall bush. He was roughly 8 feet away, mumbling to himself.

Confused, and slightly concerned as to why the boy had taken such an interest in him, (M/N) let his head drop onto his shoulder, cracking his eyes open to squint at the male. He didn't seem to be noticing his surroundings, but the other students were ignoring his words so this must have been a normal thing. 

Sighing, (M/N) sat up so that he was leaning forward, scooting himself around so he was actually facing the kid. 

He was a little under average height, messy hair and wide eyes, freckles. He looked like the sort of kid you'd want as a younger brother, cute in a sort of boyish way, but now he looked like a deer in headlight. 

Midoriya, who had been lost in his own world, hadn't noticed that (M/N) had moved, but now the tall male was a bit closer. He was sitting cross-legged, arms propping him up on the floor and on his elbows, but all 8 of those eyes seemed to be trained on him as his head tilted slightly to the side.

It... was horrifying in all honesty. (M/N) was tall, he was a big guy in general, but as he peered at Midoriya it was terrifying. Like being under the eyes of a predator.

"What's your deal?" (M/N) said softly, the words slurring slightly with exhaustion. 

Midoriya knew he was being spoken to, knew that (M/N) was talking to him, but at the moment he was a mere statue in a garden. He was stuck. 

The area where (M/N)'s eyebrows should have been furrowed, confusion crossing his features. The kid had been mumbling to himself just fine a moment ago but now he was completely still, eyes impossibly large.

Concerned, (M/N) drug himself to his knees, leaning forward to lightly tug at the kid's uniform. It was like setting off a firework, fine for a second or two before he exploded. 

He immediately tried to jump back, only to stumble and fall like the clutz he was.

(M/N) blinked owlishly at the kid, who was also blinking in confusion. 

The kid wasn't... actually scared of him, right? He was a teenager, he could get over his fear and realize that (M/N) wasn't going to hurt him... right?!

The kid looked scared though, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Sighing lightly (M/N) waved a hand at the green-haired male, moving to stand up. 

"Sorry for startling you," he mumbled, pulling his hood over his head before stuffing his hands in various pockets.

Times like now (M/N) wished he had been born without so many limbs, even if it was just so that he could have sleeves to hide himself with.

[male-reader-requests]

Thank you guys so much!

Thank you so much for 101 followers! You are amazing and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

[male-reader-requests]

For Better or Worse

Requested by: Me

Pairings: Hyun Cha x Male! Reader

Word Count: 1,033

Warnings: uhhhh, I mean it's sweet home so that's a warning right there. There isn't much actual gore in this, I was just kinda going off and it ended up like this so I hope you enjoy it. Kinda crazy reader themes but you know, throw some in get some out kinda thing. 

-

Hyun sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck as he slowly walked up the stairwell. He'd been sent out again, looking for some stuff for Dusik if he could find any but mostly for the women downstairs.

They'd, very embarrassingly, asked him to find Sanitary pads. At first, he'd been a bit confused, and then very embarrassed but with 2 women in his house before everything went to hell he knew they were necessary. Though, if being honest, he'd thought that if put in enough stress that a woman would stop having her period.

Hyun decided to ignore that with the fact that he didn't know enough about Anatomy, or women to know if that was true. 

The traveling was slow going, the elevators were out of order, not that he'd use them, and the stairways were always covered in glass and other debris that made him question every step. Normally he would have been sent out with someone else, most likely Wook, but this time he was alone.

It didn't help his nerves any. Being with someone out here was dangerous, it was horrible, but then at least he knew his back was somewhat covered. Now he was as bare as the day he was born.

Hyun took a deep breath as he peeked around a corner, grip tight on the pole Dusik had made for him. The entryway of this floor was clear from what he could see but unfortunately, you could never trust your sight. 

Crouched as close to the floor as he could get Hyun slowly shuffled his way to the wall in front of him, moving along it like a drunk spider. He kept close, kept himself small and out of sight, but he was awkward with it, all long limbs and heavy objects.

The floor was stained, some of it blood and some of it scorch marks, but it was clean. The floor here had been swept of debris and dirt, the only thing on it was a mass of dark lettering. There were two columns of it, one side in Korean the other in some language he didn't recognize.

"Leave," the floor said, "You are unwelcome here, human or not." 

Those words on the floor meant that there were people here, or at least that they had been here. That meant that they had supplies, at least some. 

The first step away from the wall was nerve-wracking, but the second one made Hyun's heart stop. Almost immediately there was a knife to his throat, an arm wrapped around his chest to hold his arms down. "You cannot read?" a voice hissed behind him, the person holding his arms down forcing him to stand up.

Before Hyun could react his backpack was ripped from him, the pole following suit before he was shoved roughly forward. Stumbling a bit Hyun turned to look at his capturer, eyes meeting the last thing he would have expected.

Everyone downstairs had practically refused to conform, to change themselves. They held tight onto the things that reminded them of the old world, but this guy crouching over his bag looked every bit the part of a post-apocalyptic world. 

He was tall, from what Hyun had felt when he'd been pressed against him. (E/C) eyes slightly covered by shaggy (H/C) hair, dirty (S/T) skin with a couple of scratches on his cheeks. He was dressed in a pair of ratty cargo pants, tucked half hazard into his boots, and a hoodie. He was dirty as if he'd gone and rolled around in a dirt mound, but he didn't smell unwashed or bad. 

The guy stood up fast, making Hyun stumble a bit more until his back met the wall. He'd been right about the height thing, the guy was tall, but he also looked pissed. 

Brown eyes watched as (S/T) hands hit the switch on his pole, electricity running through the wires to crackle at the knife on the end. (E/C) eyes lit up under that electricity, warped awe forming on his face. Hyun was, unfortunately, familiar with that look as it was quite common on himself. 

"Oh you're beautiful," the male said softly, and Hyun did his best not to look at him. The guy was either turning or he was just going insane but it was never something nice to look at.

"Absolutely gorgeous," he whispered, and this time Hyun did look over, locking eyes. The guy wasn't looking at the weapon, which still had electricity coursing through it, he was looking at Hyun, a soft look on his face despite the crazy in his eyes. 

He reached out with his free hand to cradle Hyun's cheek, a scared thumb running over his cheekbone as fear ran through Hyun's body. This guy was definitely joking, right? 110% crazy, right?!

The guy turned the electricity off, dropping the makeshift spear on the ground so that his other hand could cradle Hyun's face. He was gentle, very soft and very calm with his movements and it was making Hyun blush despite the fear in his system. 

You couldn't blame him really, as this was the first time someone had touched him in a tender way in lord knows how long. That meant it was alright to enjoy, right?

"My names (M/N)," he said softly, slightly tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. God, he really seemed like one, Hyun realized. All angry and protective one second but then he was sweet and soft. 

"H-Hyun," he managed to stutter out, those (E/C) eyes lighting up just the same as they had to the electricity. 

"You're beautiful Hyun," (M/N) said softly, and that had been the sweetest thing anyone had said to him in probably his whole life.

[male-reader-requests]

Hi can i request Steve Rogers X Male Reader, where MR is very jealous Because steve talk to some person in a flirty way, so MR gave him a silent treatment and steve notice it and he do make up sex with MR (like showing MR that he only had eyes on him and the sex its nowhere soft and vanilla (more rough sex) ) thank you and i love your works sm ❤️

Yeah I can do that! It might take a while because smut isn’t really my specialty so it takes me a long time to write it. Thank you!

[male-reader-requests]

part 2 for Puppy Love where Togata takes reader to meet class 1A?

Eyy that sounds like a good idea

[male-reader-requests]

The Gift of Giving

Requested by: winchesterzforever

Pairing: Dean Winchester x M! Reader

Word count: 4,388

Warnings: This is just glorified face fucking, I hope you enjoy

-

The sight before him was... pretty.

There wasn't any other way to explain it besides calling it pretty, or beautiful, or maybe... well he couldn't think of anything else really.

(M/N) was tied to the bedposts, propped up a bit so that it looked like he was relaxing but Dean knew it was anything but relaxing. Everyone was out of the house, minus them, and it was a relief. Dean knew it was actually just Sammy taking pity on him and forcing everyone out on the guise of Christmas cheer.

But, back to the problem at hand, er, bed.

(M/N)'s face had dropped to a nice ruddy color, his eyes wide as he watched Dean shuck his shirt and pants into some unknown corner. The other male wanted to fight against his bindings, to touch him, but what was holding him down was new and nice and he was terrified of breaking them.

(M/N)'s (S/C) wrists weren't held down by rope, him and his stupid sensitive skin wouldn't let them do that, so they had gone out and gotten (F/C) silk instead. Dean's face had gone a wonderful shade of red in the store when they'd bought it. His face was actually started to match that color, though it was arousal now instead of embarrassment. 10x better if you had to ask (M/N).

"Alright," Dean's voice was soft, overly so, but you couldn't blame him. They'd set boundaries, they'd talked all this over; he knew what was going to happen, everything they had set out, but it was still nerve-wracking to be actually Doing it and not just talking about it.

(M/N) blinked up at him almost owlishly as Dean rubbed gently at his thighs, moving to kneel on the bed next to him.

"You doing alright?" Blinking again (M/N) grinned, the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Never better." His voice was just as soft as Deans was, but he sounded... drunk almost. Neither of them had been drinking, (M/N) had made sure of that, but he was drunk none the less.

"Ok, Ok..." Dean leaned down, placing soft kisses across (M/N) cheeks, little things that were hardly even a brush of his lips but as he moved he applied a bit more pressure, kissing with all the love in the world. 

Their kisses were long and slow, Dean gripping at (H/C) hair to gently tilt (M/N)'s head this way and that, the shorter male straining against his bonds to touch, but never too hard. This was a game of sorts, to see how long (M/N) could make it before he couldn't take not being able to touch Dean directly.

Dean then leaned back, (M/N) arching to follow only to fall short. The two of them were panting, Dean watched as the string of saliva between them thin and break, a slight wonder in his mind. Dean had been in bed with numerous people, some of it just a fling, some of it out of love, but he'd never kissed someone so much that they'd drooled over each other.

He watched as (M/N) fail to lick their mixed mess off his chin, swallowing the little he'd captured. He was probably uncomfortable with the wetness running down his chin, but he didn't move to wipe it on his shoulder or anything so it couldn't have been too bad. 

Dean then watched as his tongue poked out again, wetting his lips this time instead of making a mess. God damnit he was hot. 

With a deep breath, Dean gathered himself, mind and body, to straddle (M/N)'s chest, his hands gripping at the headboard until his knuckles turned white. This was a new angle, a new sight, and Jesus it was beautiful.

(M/N) strained up again, trying to get close enough to actually do what they were here to do, but Dean was far enough back that he was just out of reach. (M/N)'s breath fanned over the dark boxers Dean was wearing, fanning over the tented area without a care in the world and Dean's world narrowed down to the life within the bedroom.

Nodding to himself the taller moved forward a bit, his ass against (M/N)'s chest as (S/T) lips mouthed lightly over his underwear. He was humming, to himself and for Dean's pleasure, and it wasn't even exaggerated. In porn, most of the noises people made were fake and dumb but every noise (M/N) ever made was real no matter how whore'-ish it sounded.

(M/N)'s mouthing soon turned to actual sucking, wetting the area quite well. He sucked and licked and kissed as much as his limited position could grant him. Dean was making these little breathy noises, trying to keep his voice down but (M/N) could care less. 

The headboard bumped lightly against the wall when (M/N) jerked forward once, drawing a gasp from him as he licked up fabric. His (E/C) eyes were dark as he gazed up at Dean, the blush covering his face making them stand out beautifully. 

Dean kept his eyes shut tightly after that, one hand still gripping the headboard as the other fisted his own hair. He was enjoying this, a lot more than he had thought he would, the little noises and aborted thrusts telling (M/N) more than his actual words ever would.

A few more teasing licks and a well-placed suck against the tip had Dean's boxers bowed beautifully, the elastic pulling away from his skin in a sight that looked like it belonged in some old porno mag. 

(M/N) strained forward, the silk biting his skin when it stopped him a mere inch or two from burying his face into the line of Dean's pubes. He groaned, some low thing that definitely didn't make a show very often, and Dean suppressed the urge to shudder.

He was supposed to be in charge here, sure it was (M/N)'s idea to do this but he was supposed to lead this, that had been their plan but now Dean was a bit afraid he'd fall a bit too far and (M/N) would have to take the lead.

Wanting to get a hold of himself, and on the situation at hand, Dean opened his eyes again, looking down to cup (M/N)'s chin. His head was at an awkward angle, tilted up so that Dean could look him in the eyes, but he was uncaring for his own comfort as he tugged lightly at the binds on his wrists.

"Still good?" Dean's voice was breathy, distracted in his pleasure he didn't care. (M/N) nodded the best he could in the position, Dean lightly running his thumb over his wet bottom lip. God, he was a sight, such a pretty sight. "I'm gonna start then."

(M/N) took in a deep breath, a couple actually before some reedy whine left his mouth as Dean moved off of his chest and bed entirely. It took less than a few seconds, maybe a minute at most, but (M/N) felt desperate the second he got off him. 

Moving back, Dean straddled his chest again, farther forward than last time. (M/N)'s breath didn't have a barrier between it and his flesh and it made him shiver. (M/N)'s mouth fell open wide, lewd and whore'ish but he was practically begging, begging wordlessly and god he was beautiful. 

Dean slid one hand to hold the base of his erection, the other finding home in (H/C) hair. God this looked like something out of a low-budget porno but this was 100x better than one. 

The first touch of (M/N)'s tongue against the glans of Deans dick pushed a soft groan from both of them. Using his hand in (M/N)'s hair he thrust forward again, inching closer as (M/N) tongue curled up against him. It was slow at first, the two of them getting used to the angle and the work that needed to be put into this to keep it going right.

There wasn't a need to be quiet in the house, and Dean tries his best not to hide the noises he makes but they came out shuttery and out of breath, his embarrassment making show while he thrusts into (M/N) open mouth. Trusting (M/N) to keep up enough suction Dean lest go of his dick to curl it under (M/N)'s chin. He was cupping his chin and the back of his head to help feed his cock into (M/N)'s throat inch by inch and it was a wonderful feeling.

(M/N) pulls against his ties, the headboard clattering with the force of it. (M/N) wanted to grab Dean's hips, his ass, and thighs, and honestly anywhere to make him get closer, to pull him in and suck him down and swallow around him until he comes. 

"Oh God," Dean whispers, broken and soft as he lets (M/N) down far enough that his nose is pushed into the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

(M/N) tightens his throat, swallowing once, twice -

And then Dean's gone, pulled all the way back so that the only thing connecting them is a thin string of drool.

He's panting, one hand pushing sweaty hair off his forehead, the other lightly petting at (H/C) locks. He's giving (M/N) a moment to get his baring back, to straighten out his thought and breath but he just surges forward, pulling on the silk ties until his biceps are bulging the cloth is cutting into his skin.

(M/N) lets out a groan that sounded more animal than human along with a semblance of Dean's name and god damnit Dean was so close already he would rather die than let this be over because he let himself fall apart over a sound of all things. 

Dean moved back, watching as (M/N) struggled with his binds, his face a wonderful shade of red that had traveled down to his chest. He sat there for a moment, just staring, but (M/N) getting more and more impatient, moving as he tried to get free.

With a light sigh, he moved to press two fingers against his bottom lip. It was soft and pliant beneath his touch. "Open your mouth."

(M/N) seemed a bit confused, considering he'd gone from sucking Dean down to now sucking on his fingers, but he didn't complain as Dean slipped his fingers over his teeth. He licked at them, at his knuckles, and between them in a thorough exploration, tracing at the edges of scars and callouses. 

(M/N) sucked Dean's finger further into his mouth, looking up at him. His eyes had calmed a bit, that crazed desperation swapped out for pliancy, wide and docile despite the fever still being there. 

Dean slid his fingers out of (M/N)'s mouth, pressing against his bottom lip before wiping his hand on the bedsheets. He moved against, scooting back up to his original position, (M/N) tracking his every move.

Dean cupped his face with one hand, (M/N)'s jaw-dropping without prompting, mouth open wide with his tongue out in invitation.

Dean slipped his fingers into (H/C) hair, curling them loosely as he coaxed (M/N) forward. Vaguely, in the back of his head, he realized this would probably have been better if (M/N) had been on his knees instead of laying down, but then all thought was impossible as (M/N) lipped lightly at the head of his cock, hot breath tickling before he wrapped his lips around it and started to gently suck.

He'd been fucking his throat not even a few minutes ago, but a rush of pleasure doused Dean like a tidal wave. Heat spread from his groin all the way to his fingertips, still buried in (H/C) hair, and found home at the base of his neck. With an exhale that was more of a huff, he hunched forward a bit, watching as (M/N) licked along the underside of his cock.

"That's good, (M/N)," he groaned, eye going half-lidded.

(M/N)'s mouth tightened around him, a shiver rolling down his spine. Pulling back he licked his lips, taking deep breaths before going further along the length offered to him.

Dean leaned forward more, hands bracing against the headboard to keep steady as (M/N) did his best to bob his head in the position he was in. 

Dean moved to thread both hands into (H/C) hair, twisting his fingers into a solid grip. He pulled (M/N) forward, sinking deeper into his mouth, though he stopped when he felt the back of his throat.

(M/N) jerked at his bindings, fabric stretching and ripping slightly, though it stayed intact. His throat tightened, shoulders jerking as he struggled to keep himself still as to not gag.

Dean eased himself back, (M/N) taking deep breaths as a thread of drool escaped the corner of his mouth. He dove back in, sucking down as much as he could. 

He was drooling in earnest now, the mess running down his chin and neck, tears threatening to spring in his eyes. He was bopping his head the best he could, sucking as messy slurping sounds fell between them.

Dean kept his fingers tight in (M/N)'s hair, a low moan rolling from his chest as the (H/C) haired male started to hum.

He moved back, sucking soft and gentle at the head, the way he was nursing against the sensitive glands making Dean's grip tighten. 

This wasn't going to end well.

Dean's chest was heaving, bottom lip between his teeth to stifle only noise he would make. (M/N)'s brow creases at that, an expression of annoyance flashing across his face as his tongue laps against the slit. He leaned back once more, lapping once or twice at his balls before moving completely.

Before Dean could say anything there was a snap of fabric, (S/C) hands finding home on Dean's ass as they drug him forward. A mix of a yelp and whine managed to escape Dean's mouth, (M/N) stuffing his cock into hot and wet mouth, (E/C) eyes staring up at him in defiance.

Dean's mouth fell open feeling the crown push along the soft palate and further down. They'd done this multiple times, (M/N) could deep dick it like a champ, but it always surprised Dean. 

Gaze unfaltering (M/N) began to bob his head, this time in earnest since he was able to actually move now. It was a quick rhythm, one of (M/N)'s hands coming to the base of his cock to mirror the movement.

If Dean was having issues with the sounds (M/N) had been making before he was dying now.

The sounds leaving (M/N)'s mouth stuffed with his cock were sickeningly wet, like a constant never-ending slurp. He wasn't gagging either, but he would make these little sounds that would vibrate up Dean's cock and shiver up his spine.

He was going to die before the night was over.  

"Ah - keep going like that." the words are out of his mouth in a breathless groan before he realizes he's even spoken at all.

Dean's mortified, he hates making any kind of noise in bed while they're at the bunker. They never had any privacy here. 

(M/N) pulled back just enough for the head of his cock to leave the hot sleeve of his throat so he could gasp a breath around him. He brought his other hand up to meet its match as he pushed the crown back into his throat. The speed that (M/N) bobbed his head increased, the head slipping further and further into the back of his throat so that now wet, strangled gags were drug from his chest.

Dean moved one of his hands to grip the headboard again, the one still in (M/N)'s hair felt like lead but he moved it to curl his fingers around the base of (M/N)'s skull. He wasn't pushing, but he was met with little resistance as the bobs of (M/N)'s head got shallower and shallower. 

Dean tilted his head back, heaving a shuddering breath as his dick popped in and out of (M/N)'s throat. There was a fire pooling in his stomach, a coil that grew hotter and tighter to the point his thighs were trembling. Another gargled gasp fell from (M/N) followed by intense, wet suction that had Dean curling his fingers into (H/C) hair to the point of pain. 

Dean knew he was close, close to the point of no return, and damn this couldn't have been good for him but he pulled back once more. The noise (M/N) made when he pulled back was sinful, the wet suction coming undone when Dean pulled out of his throat followed by a slurp that put porn stars to shame. He didn't complain though, dipping down to moth wetly at his balls. 

The grin that had spread across (M/N)'s (S/T) face made his hips twitch, his fingers still twisted in (H/L) hair. He gently pumped at the shaft with his free hand, grip hardly there. His breath hitched sharply as (M/N) tongued both of his balls into his mouth, giving them a gentle suck as his nail grazed the head lightly.

"I want you back in my throat." (M/N) whispered, his voice raspy and wrecked. 

A bright blush sat high on Dean's cheeks, pupils blown wide to match (M/N)'s and all he could do was stare in silence as he fed his cock back into the other male's willing mouth. He could feel his face burning, probably matching the color of (M/N)'s cheeks. 

His cock was completely drenched in thick saliva drooling liberally from (M/N)'s mouth. His hands moved to grip Dean's thighs, at his waist, and his ass, fingers white-knuckled. With the leverage he'd found (M/N) forced his head down with earnest, setting a brutal pace of fucking his throat on Dean's cock.  A strangled moan forced itself from Dean's lips as his senses were assaulted on all fronts by (M/N).

The sounds that were coming from (M/N) were disgusting but every wet slurp, bubbly gasp of air, and minute gag made Dean's dick throb. He couldn't tear his eyes away from (M/N)'s flushed face, couldn't look away from watery eyes and the stretch of his mouth and the obscene amount of drool leaking from his lips down his chin and neck. 

"Ah -" Dean's voice cracked around the groan. Reaching down with both hands he cupped the back of (M/N)'s head, gently smoothing down the hair he'd been pulling at. He pushed (M/N)'s head down once, twice, three times. Each time he pushed down his cock went deeper into (M/N), his throat spasming. Letting him up for air Dean sighed. "Like that, yeah."

When (M/N) went back down he was getting sloppy in his earnest attempt to cram all of Dean's cock down his throat. His brow was creased as he gagged repeatedly, pulling back to take breaths deep and fast in a way that sounded painful before slurping down the length once more.

"Shit, keep going..." Dean's voice hardly even a whisper, he wasn't sure if (M/N) could hear it over the wet sounds he was making. 

His fingers pressed against (M/N) scalp as he held him down, nails digging into sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue brushed against the base of Dean's cock for the first time, and the feeling of being so deep inside a perfectly warm and tight wet place made tears threaten to come to his eyes. 

(M/N)'s eyes closed, tears leaking as his shoulders shook, threatening to heave. Dean pulled back then, hand going to idly stroke himself as (M/N) swallowed thickly. He was gasping for breath, completely wrecked. His face was wet with sweat, drool, and tears. He was panting as his hair clung to the sides of his face, eyes blown to the point of no return. 

With one last deep breath (M/N) surged forward again.

Dean pushed (M/N)'s hair away from his face, carding his fingers through the damp strands to grip at his head again. He matched (M/N)'s rhythm, adding just enough force to add wet gags to the cacophony of slurps and gasps (M/N) made, making it sound like he was whining desperately around Dean's cock.

Dean knew he must be leaking rivers of precome at this point, knew that (M/N) had to be hard and straining painfully. Running his tongue over his dry lips Dean watched (M/N)'s expression as he held his head down. His eyes darted to the hunch of his shoulder, to his hands that couldn't decide whether to grip at his thighs or his ass. He could feel (M/N)'s threat working to dispel him, pressing against the resistance of (M/N) trying to lift his head.

Something dark and dripping with lust wound it's way around the heated coil in his groin at the sight of (E/C) eyes rolling back in their sockets with tears cascading down his cheeks from Dean choking him on his cock. He wanted to fuck into (M/N)'s mouth, to fill his mouth so full of come he had to swallow or let it come out his nose.

A gurgle erupted from (M/N) and the fear of getting puked on made Dean twist his fingers tight and pull him off roughly. 

Dean hadn't realized he was panting until the sound forcefully entered his mind, watching as (M/N) fell back against the pillows for a moment. He was gasping for air and shaking but after a moment or two he lifted his head up once more.

Dean wondered idly how much more he could take.

"Put it back in."

Dean blinked a few times, (M/N)'s tongue lolling out of his mouth in the most delightfully lewd way. He pressed his palm against the other male's forehead to prevent him from running his tongue over his balls, Dean's hips twitching at the whine that crawled its way from (M/N)'s wrecked throat. 

His expression was blissed out, looking as drunk as his voice sounded.

"Please!" he begged, voice cracking as a full-body shudder wracked Dean. "Fuck my face," he said, breathlessly.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He was on his feet before he realized it, pulling (M/N) off the bed and forcing him to kneel on the floor. He pushed (H/C) hair from his flushed face, guiding his cock back into that sinful mouth. (M/N)'s hands found themselves a home at the area where Dean's ass met thigh, gripping the skin as his eyes locked with Dean's.

(M/N) had basically no control here, but if the enthusiastic slurping and glassy-eyed look he was getting Dean guessed was a good thing. There were threads of spit and pre, thick and heavy, clinging to (M/N)'s chin like liquidized pendulums when Dean pulled back to give him air.

Dean let himself feel flattered at how (M/N) was literally drooling for his cock, giddy and dizzy and he wasn't sure it was nerves or his impending orgasm.

"Ah fuck!" Dean all but yelled as he forcefully held (M/N)'s head down. (M/N) had pushed his tongue out to let him deeper, further into his throat and it took all of Dean's willpower not to come right then.

He wanted to see that expression one more that, that fucked silly, intoxicated from chocking on his cock expression and-. Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, blush scorching his skin as he watched (E/C) eyes roll back. He was actively crying now, tears falling down his cheeks to meet the mess of drool and precome running down his chin and neck.

(M/N)'s hands scrambled for a moment against Dean's thighs before falling uselessly to his sides. Dean could feel him trembling, shaking under his hands as he forced himself in and out of the throat that was working to push him out, but (M/N) wasn't resisting his hold. This too good, too sweet and too much so Dean did his best to burn every detail of this into his memory.

Dean let his hold on (M/N) go, the other male quickly moving back. He coughed while struggling to suck air into his lungs, drooling on the floor. Dean tilted his head, watching as (M/N) wiped his face with the back of his hand as he idly fucked into his own fist.

(M/N) made some sort of please noise a second or two later, tilting his head back with his mouth open wide and hands cupped under his chin. It was a simple action, a small movement but that brought Dean right to the edge. He crowded into (M/N) space, hand flying over his cock as it bumped against plump lips. He came in thick ropes that mostly landed in their target, but a stray two or three made their way across crimson-stained cheeks.

Both Dean and (M/N) groaned, Dean shuddering as his hand slowed to a store before stepping back. He watched as (M/N) swallowed what had landed in his mouth, wiping the rest off his face and sucking it off his fingers.

His face was soaked in tears and drool, and as Dean looked lower he noticed the white stains against (M/N)'s stomach and thighs. He'd come untouched?

God, he was going to be the end of him.

[male-reader-requests]

Requests are open!

Requests are open again! I’ll only be taking 3 or 4!

[male-reader-requests]

Puppy Love

Requested by: yumirose0

Pairings: Mirio Togata x M! Reader

Word Count: 1,867

Warnings: Very fluffy, very sweet. There's basically no dialogue here, trying to get used to writing dialogue, but over all it's just tooth-rotting fluff.

-

Miro forced himself not to sigh, forced himself to keep a smile going. He was stressed, he was tired, and he was lonely. 

The agency had been running him ragged, so had his supplementary training, and now all he wanted to do was sleep for 3 days and see his boyfriend, (M/N).

But (M/N) was still training.

It was edging up on midnight and (M/N) was probably still at the gym, possibly only just starting his day, but by god, Mirio felt selfish admitting it but he wanted the taller male here instead of there.

(M/N)'s quirk was, easily put, Spider, or Arachnid if you wanted a technical term. 

The taller male had 6 arms, 3 on each side much like the kid from 1-A, his legs counting as arms he guessed. He also had 8 eyes, two humanoid in shape a lovely color of (E/C), and 6 others that were a startling shade of red resting on his forehead above the others. He had fangs and super strength and was mostly nocturnal, but he was great.

Mirio just wished he was here now.

But that wasn't something he could control so the blond male sighed, straightened his back, and continued on his journey to (M/N)'s dorm room. 

The two of them had been dating right out of middle school, 3 years now, and the two of them were used to every single odd little thing about the other. Mirio was used to the large amount of meat (M/N) would eat and the defensive biting that would happen from time to time just the same as (M/N) was used to Mirio being a bit messy with the laundry and odd work scheduling.

The two of them worked together for each other, there was no other way to do it.

When Mirio had gotten to the dorm room it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the second he stepped in it felt as if the weight had been thrown out the window. 

Laying on the floor of their room, feet propped up on the bed with 6 arms thrown about the room, was one very drowsy looking (M/N).

He was dressed in just a pair of boxers, as customary clothing for bed, and he had a pair of very bulky headphones on. Whatever he was listening to was on the softer side of his normal music, full of pianos and violins, probably classical music to make him sleepy and the blond male felt a stupidly large grin spread on his face.

One of those red eyes slowly unglazed, and despite not having a pupil or anything Mirio knew it was focused on him. Smiling the blond moved about the room, putting his bag away and hanging his coat up, putting his shoes by the door, and taking his belt off along with his tie, all while (M/N) slowly pulled himself together to be sitting instead of laying on the floor.

Once done, or as done as he was going to get before (M/N) got impatient, Mirio sat on the edge of the bed, hand reaching out to thread through messy (H/C) hair. (M/N)'s headphones had been set off to the side, a soft piano playing muffled against the floor as their owner leaned into strong hands.

Mirio gently rubbed at (M/N) scalp, watching his face as it was practically the only thing he could look at with them almost being at eye level with each other.

Mirio was... proud of his height. That was basically the only way he could explain it. Mirio stood at 5'11", on the taller end of the spectrum and up until their last year in middle school had been the tallest of his little friend group of (M/N) and Tamaki.

Tamaki was still shorter than him, but (M/N) had passed him up by a significant amount, now standing at a massive 6'10". (M/N) was almost a whole foot taller than him, but he'd never been one to tease about it.

(M/N) let out a light hum, leaning into Mirio's hands before taking one in his, pressing his lips to his palm. (M/N) was a very affectionate lover, he did practically everything in his power to make Mirio happy. He bought flowers and video games and went on cheap dates and complimented Mirio so much that the other male practically had a permanent blush in his presents. Not that Mirio was complaining.

(M/N) was also very playful and energetic. On multiple accounts (M/N) had been called a puppy, very sweet, very energetic, cuddly, a bit clumsy, and a bit odd. But Mirio loved it and wouldn't change it for the world.

(M/N)'s kisses were slow and tired, just light presses of his lips but Mirio could feel the drowsy smile making it's way onto his face as he moved from the palm of his hand to his wrist, the light drag of a fang against his skin making his heart beat faster. He knew (M/N) had no control over that, didn't mean anything by it, but the taller male was a bit of a biter in the heat of the moment and it always got his heart racing.

"How was the agency?" (M/N) whispered, his voice low and rumbly, and Mirio knew it was because he was tired, but damn it was hot as hell.

Mirio smiles, running his free hand down from (M/N)'s hair to his neck, just holding him there. "It was good," he said, voice just as quiet as (M/N)'s, "busy but good." (M/N) let out a "hmm" in reply and moved from kissing Mirio's wrist to laying his head on the blonds thighs, moving to sit between his legs. He was still holding one of Mirio's hands, the other still resting on the back of (M/N) neck.

Mirio sighed, his hand tangling in (H/C) locks again. He knew that if he didn't get (M/N) off the floor he would fall asleep there, and Mirio wouldn't mind really, but it was bad for (M/N)'s back and he couldn't let him hurt himself just because he was tired.

"Come on," he said softly, moving his hands to grab at a pair of (M/N)'s arms. He was being a bit rough, jerking (M/N) and himself into a standing position but it's what he had to do. Once (M/N) fell asleep he would stay asleep. There wasn't much that could wake him up so Mirio had to get them moved to the bed now instead of later.

(M/N) groaned, something that more of a whine of discomfort than anything but complied for the most part. He stood up with Mirio, slouched over quite a bit as he leaned on the other male. The majority of his weight was being pressed onto Mirio, far too tired to hold himself up.

One set of hands were tangled in blond hair, another wrapped around Mirio's back, and the last pair were lightly gripping onto the other male's waist. His head was pressed into Mirio's hair, lightly rubbing his cheek into the blond strands, pressing sleepy kisses into his scalp when he got the energy.

It was adorable, it made Mirio blush darkly and a dopey smile spread across his face, but he had a mission and he planned to finish it.

"Come on," he said again, slowly moving them so he could press (M/N) down to sit on the mattress. (M/N) was very compliant, doing as Mirio moved him, but he didn't let go. (M/N) was a cuddler in his sleep, was pretty much all the time, but it was worse when he was sleepy. 

Mirio chuckled lightly, he'd gotten (M/N) to sit on the bed, but now he was standing between his legs wrapped in 6 arms with a head of (H/C) hair pressed to his chest. It was adorable honestly, but Mirio was still dressed in his school uniform and wanted to go to bed.

"(M/N)," he said softly, moving some of (M/N)'s hair away from his eyes, "I need to change." The other male grumbled about something, his words too soft and slurred to be understandable. He huffed lightly, pressing his face harder into Mirio's chest and tightening his hold on him.

His hands moved, one pair still pressed to his hips, one pair wrapped around his lower back, but one pair moved to cradle his face, thumbs moving lightly over cheekbones. Those (E/C) eyes were closed, but Mirio knew the red ones were watching him.

It was a bit odd, and hard to get used to, but (M/N) didn't need his actual eyes open to be able to see, as the red ones were technically always open. They had a sort of second eyelid, a film like thing that was slightly transparent would cover them from time to time but he could always see out of them. Mirio didn't know how he slept at night still being able to see.

Smiling softly Mirio moved his hands to do the same, thumbs moving over (S/C) cheeks as the gently moved (M/N) head off his chest. He huffed again, not liking that he was being moved, but opened his eyes sleepily, (E/C) meeting blue.

Mirio could tell (M/N) was tired enough that the second they got in bed he would be out like a light, so to appease the other male he pressed a light kiss to the top of his head and moved to slip out of his shirt and pants. 

Unfortunately, since he was in a clingy mood Mirio wouldn't be able to put on any of his sleepwear, which was normally just sweats and a shirt if he was feeling cold, but there wasn't anything he could really do about it. 

The blond did his best to throw his clothes to the laundry hamper, though he missed. (M/N), who would normally lightly chide Mirio about leaving his dirty clothes on the floor, immediately pressed his face into the blond's chest, pulling him as close as possible.

Mirio laughed, pressing his hands to (M/N) chest in an attempt to get him to let go. It was futile for a moment or two but eventually, he loosed his hold, letting Mirio go long enough for him to turn the lights off and actually crawl into the bed instead of just sitting on it.

(M/N) followed closely behind, pulling Mirio to his chest and wrapping him in 6 arms.

Mirio loved it, it made him feel safe and loved. Though he'd never not felt loved by (M/N), it was a nice feeling, one of protection.

He wouldn't change it for the world.

[male-reader-requests]

City Lights

Requested by: funk-lil-death-omen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x M!Reader

Word count:1,847

Warnings: uhhh, trigger warning I guess. I don't really know how those go but this does kinda talk about panic attack/ptsd stuff. I don't know much about it, did a smidge of research but still, I apologize if this is kinda ass.

-

This situation was... well shit to say the least.

The entire compound was on lockdown, every single protective measure Tony had put in place was active and it was all because a cybernetically enhanced kid had gotten freaked out. 

Well, kid wasn't the right term. (M/N) was old enough to take care of himself, and he did well. (M/N) was sort of a lone wolf of sorts, going off on long missions that normally took months to years, he was an enigma, no one knew much about him. 

Well, no one knew much about him besides Bucky. Bucky had brought (M/N) with him when he'd moved to the compound, brought him to do everything pretty much. (M/N) hated other people and was very paranoid about everything.

That should have been a red flag to the rest of the team, but they'd written it off. Paranoia when in an area they knew was safe was not a sign of a healthy mind, the nightmares and the defensiveness weren't either but that had also been written off. Everyone in the compound had their issues and they'd thought that was the extent of (M/N)'s.

Unfortunately their writing off had lead to the situation at hand.

It had started out pretty normal, a normal afternoon where the majority of the compound was actually there instead of out on missions. Someone, Bucky can't really remember who, had been cooking lunch with (M/N) hovering behind them. Whoever it had been hadn't minded, asking him to grab things from the fridge and cupboards, showing him how to do certain things.

Bucky had seen this a couple of times, where he'd get very into whatever he was learning and basically forget about the real world so he hadn't seen the Spider kid come in with some game console. Bucky knew the kid hadn't meant to do it, knew that this would literally eat the kid from the inside out for the rest of his life but when he loaded up some game and the gunfire started to play through the speakers (M/N) blanked out and whatever soldier he had once been came into existence.

He knew what would happen, he'd seen this a few times before also, but it was never a pleasant experience. Bucky watched in horror as he pushed someone into the stove and pulled the gun from his belt up. The entire common area was falling into chaos.

Bucky dropped down, he knew that whatever the soldier in (M/N) was would recognize him, either as Bucky or as Winter neither would be good.

A shot fired out, landing where Bucky's head had once been, and then he was running. (M/N) would find somewhere high up, somewhere with a vantage point that he couldn't escape from, somewhere that if he felt it was necessary he could throw himself from.

Bucky was running after him the best that he could, but (M/N) was fast and he knew to lag behind a bit. It never took (M/N) long to come down, but it was a drop, he'd breakdown and he wouldn't be a hazard to others but he would be a hazard to himself. He had to stay behind him to make sure that he hit that drop instead of fighting against it.

He was safe here, but no matter how much that was proved to him he couldn't seem to accept it.

In all honesty, Bucky felt that he should have seen this coming. He'd known (M/N) the longest, knew him the best out of everyone there and he loved the other male. He should have noticed the sign of this creeping up, he knew the signs, he knew the tells and now all he could do was hope to be enough.

(M/N) hadn't slept in 3 days and his emotions seemed to dull a bit, which was unfortunately normal, but he'd been asking about the weather. He only asked about the weather to see if it would rain and storm and that meant he was stressed, that he was falling, and felt that he didn't have anything to hold onto. 

It meant that he felt he was alone, that Bucky hadn't been there for him. 

It was storming now, an odd sort of irony that he hated. It was the sort of irony to fit those stupid love novels that Stevie would read or to match his emotion but no matter how fitting he hated it.

(M/N) loved it though. He loved the rain and the thunder and the lightning, he loved it out an inborn issue with life itself. 

(M/N) grew up in some tiny ass place where the motto was quite literally "Kill or be Killed". The town was dark and fucked and in all technical terms cannibalistic thanks to Hydra fucking with them. (M/N) loved the rain because it muffled everything, made hunting down others easier when you let yourself become a creature of the night.

And he looked every bit the part.

Standing on the roof with his face to the sky (M/N) stood, soaked to the bone but still beside his breathing. His (H/C) hair was plastered to his face, his shirt and pants the same but his eyes were horribly bright against the dark sky, a shining shade of (E/C) brought on by mutated genes.

He was dressed in only black, shirt stolen from Bucky's side of the closet and cargo pants, boots from when he was active in more than Avengers issues, and he still had the gun in his hand.

Lightning fell somewhere behind him and God he was beautiful, but as they stood there in silence (M/N)'s began to shake, his shoulders moving a sadly familiar fashion that tore at Bucky's heart.

He was whispering something, something he said to himself daily and Bucky knew it by heart and it broke him each morning as he listened to (M/N) utter the words to himself just to stay afloat, just to make it through the day.

"An unfair way to be taught is still a way to learn, and it is over," his voice shook, words slurred together as he struggled. "Whether they change or not is irrelevant. If you change is what you keep hold of."

Bucky watched as he took a deep breath, the gun clattering lightly as (M/N) began to shake in earnest. "You keep fighting," he cried, "Get mad if you must. Focus one what is ahead and step forward, for a life left in the same steps you have always been in is a life wasted." 

"(M/N)", Bucky whispered, those bright eyes landing on him. The both of them were crying, Bucky quiet and trying his best to keep calm as (M/N) dropped, tears falling with the rain as he fell to his knees, the gun skidding across the roof.

This was the point in which Bucky would take over, the point in which he became the rock for (M/N) to lean on as the river started to rise around them. 

Neither of them would make it out of the night with a good conscience, but that was fine. Bucky's job was to make sure that (M/N) was comfortable, to make are he would be taken care of, to make sure he would make it through the next 24 hours.

(M/N) never remembered these episodes, probably for the best with how much he cried during these, but he was always a mess. When Bucky got to him he fought at first. He fought against Bucky's hands as they tried to removed soaked hair from his eyes, fought against the jacket being pushed over his shoulders, against the arms wrapping around him to help him inside but he was tired. Soon he gave up, going limp and letting Bucky bring him to their room.

He let Bucky undress him, he let Bucky gently guide him into a bath and let Bucky get in with him. This was always the worst for the taller male, having to watch (M/N) practically be a doll to the world as his brain tried its best to forget things that only seemed to come up at the worst times. 

The bath was hot and smelled faintly of some flower Bucky couldn't remember the name of, thanks to the bath bomb things Tony had been showing him. It was calm, and Bucky was slowly forcing himself to calm down, to relax. The more relaxed he himself was the easier it would be to get (M/N) to do the same.

He leaned back, metal arm across the edge with the flesh one curling (M/N) tight to his chest. He wanted to hold the (H/C) male, to cradle him much like one would to a child but he had to get (M/N) used to this, used to the touching again. It was slow progress, always was and always will be but Bucky'd do it over and over again just to see (M/N) happy and healthy.

Soon enough, which was actually quite a large stretch of time, Bucky had (M/N) curled against him, one arm over his shoulders with the other on his back. (M/N) had crawled into his lap, face shoved into his neck, and if this hadn't such a bad time Bucky probably would have laughed and joked about how (M/N) was more beast than man.

Unfortunately, this is how their night would go. They would sit in the bathtub well past the point of the water going cold, both of them shivering but refusing to get up or change the water. They would sit there until (M/N) was comfortable enough in his own skin for Bucky to get a towel for both of them and move them to the bed.

The room was also cold, so Bucky went about bundling (M/N) in blankets and turning the heater on, before joining the other male on the bed. His arm produced some heat, as any sort of mechanical thing will, but not much. 

The shorter male protested lightly when Bucky started to unbundle him but calmed down soon enough when he situated the two of them together. 

Bucky had his back to the headboard, (M/N) curled up on his side with his face shoved in his neck again, but there was strength coming back to his hands, his nails lightly digging in where he was gripping at Bucky's arms. It meant he was coming down, and that's all the Bucky ask for in all honesty. 

He loved him, and that's all he needed.

[male-reader-requests]

Different

Requested by: Me

Pairing: No pairing

Word Count: 941 words

Warning: This is really odd, all things considered. There's no paring in this, it's just an idea I had. It doesn't make much sense but it's not meant to. 

-

The world swirled as a summer eves dress in the wind, it came forth as the shades of his eyes. Shapes broke down and became a figment of your imagination, everything blending together like an oversaturated picture. 

The voice in the cavity of a head was saying "This is wrong" or "The world's not supposed to be like this", but multicolored eyes looked onward in boredom. The world was lame anyway, so what if this wasn't normal, it was pretty cool to watch. 

Was this what people called a psychedelic picture? The way things looked like they didn't belong then did the next second. The colors bleed into one another, creating new shapes and creatures, one of these deciding the 2D world wasn't enough for them.

A strange almost dragonic shape slid out of the colored mess, it's body disfigured in every way, looking as if someone had forcefully bent a human being into a dragon. Its body was bloody and forlorn, uneven eyes looking around like a mad man. 

It looked sad, but that wasn't new, was it? 

Those eyes gained height as their owner stood tall, rain falling as the sky cried in anguish. Or was it going up? It didn't matter though, water was water no matter the direction it fell and the crying wouldn't cease.

The thing was slipping back into the now muddled background, those once vibrant colors and not-shapes were now dreary, a metaphor of sadness before the eyes of depression itself. The color looked as if it had been sucked out of the world around them and shoved soul deep into the very eyes looking on, but those eyes shown in colors, not emotions.

It was like poetry gone wrong, the meaning sitting right out of reach and you're doing your damndest to grasp it but you just can't seem to understand and because of that all of the color left the words in the wind and found themself in the eyes of the speaker, desperate for translation. 

These words were clear and in few, colored in reds and pinks, shades of green and blue, and the occasional purple. The eyes weren't sad or angry, happy nor content, these eyes were blanketed with a layer of suspicion and regret, but those were deep-lying and not meant to be found. 

The words of an apology were whispered to the wind, only the clouds as witnesses, but that was enough. Water seeped through every pore of those colored eyes, tears falling through forests of freckles and scars to find home in the cotton of a shirt.

Blood soon came after, trailing a similar path to find home in the cotton, only to seep through and staining ablaster skin beneath. Gems and jewels glittered in the moonlight, more expressive than the eyes owning them.

Another spout of rain fell, ruining the hair upon those eyes, to which they twitched, the colors seeping out like those tears, staining the walls before them once again.

The world was full of light and love and this humanoid being was leeching it like a man to water, the colors dulling even more than before. 

Boot clad feet carried north, clunking through snow only to never feel the cold. It was windy but pale skin never grew rosey in vain attempts to get warmer, dead skin never feeling the winter air.

The world around them shown in a blank slate, a moving picture of black and whites, the only true color coming from the bloody nose dripping onto the cracked pavement below it.

Fire shown through the darkness, a light coming into existent only to be used to light a cigarette, smoke spilling out. None of this made sense, the sky was turning green, the grass turning red, and the water was all brown, but that was fine.

Eyes, brighter than before, cried in relief as the word slowly changed, the delta of life coming into vision. The world was different, but some things are meant to change.

But other things weren't, and as the wind continued to howl irritation leeched into the air. Annoyance was high, pale eyes twitching as the noise grew ever louder. But there was no helping it, the world was its own and could do as it pleased, some measly human wouldn't be stopping it.

Those pale eyes wished, truly and surly, that they could, that they could change the world, but that was an effort not to be put in until a prize was in sight. The roar of a machine came from behind, the noise shattering the ever crafted silence. Those eyes, those pale ones that belonged in the snow more than on a person, glanced behind themselves to find that the machine was a truck, heavy and loud and dragging along a cooling trailer. 

It was some kind of Alcohol, a scandalous woman laying on the side in a 2D form. The woman, while looking like your average school ground whore, was beautiful, most likely someone that had wanted to make it big in California, only be shot down and taken up a lower grade job, such as what looked to underwear modeling.

A deep breath, a sigh, brought a cloud of into life, a small reign of fog only to disappear in seconds. The sky was darkening, the moon creeping over the horizon, night overcoming day to shroud the world a veil of darkness.