#I need to write a full fic on this one day

[grotesquevi]

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ I WANNA BE THE TATTOO INK THAT SWIMS ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ DOWN THROUGH THE NEEDLE IN YOUR SKIN.

cw  # 18+ mdni, public sex, use of strap-on (it’s refered as cock/dick too) strap sucking, use of pet names.

side note  # if you recognize this, might be because this is a request from my previous blog vicorices (terminated blog 2025-2025 r.i.p) this is my new account. i'm trying to get all my writing back up slowly and with my whole heart. check out my arcane directory to see the process of re-uploading fics.

to be fair, sevika did want to marry, the thing was organizing a wedding.

you've been running non-stop the last months so she gets you're burnt out. your fianceé can be many things, but her patience it's a golden treat even when she don't have time to properly fuck you lately, she knows you'll be back to your own self after the celebration, and sevika’s not afraid of having to put up with your grumpy side any time of the day.

she can handle you, simple as a summer day with the air conditioner turned on. what she cannot handle instead, was that backstabbing shit you were pulling on her after being so well behaved, playing the part of an understanding wife until one of your friends give her the first photo and she has to look at it twice to be sure she's looking at it right, cause there's no way you're standing in a tiny polaroid picture wearing a purple set of underwear, comfortably laying around in bed — a bed you share with her every night.

it sends her into a spiral. the music is loud in a room full of celebrating guests and still, her mouth is suddenly dry and she feels like it has been a fucking year now without having sex, so dramatic as she's searching for you even when you're already looking at her, raising your champagne glass in a silent toast with a playful smirk.

and she thinks you'll have the decency to be kind to her after all, but your friends kept the photos coming, and each one seemed to be more obscene than the last one as she looked at them a couple of times afraid someone else could see it before tucking it away in the safety of her suit. at first a casual set of purple lingerie that scaled insanely quick to a very close frontal shot of your full lips slightly parted, and sevika can recognize your hands squeezing your tits together for the picture, you fucking tease — the third picture steals the air from her lungs at the sight of you already on your knees, looking up to the camera with nothing on top.

did your friends see them too? do they know how low they are helping you play? you're making her put up a show ‘cause you're laughing at her face, her erratic movements, how she forgot to keep on talking to the guests, show some manners from a zaunite already in the council, but shit she's so weak. you've deprived her for what? a month or two? can you really expect her to behave and not to act up stupid? you're wearing this beautiful white gown and sevika cannot help but wonder, truly wonder, by the look in your face, what are you wearing down all that expensive fabric.

low.

you're looking at her while you talk to your close ones and sevika fights the need to drag you away from everyone as the photos kept appearing randomly, hitting her in the worst moments, cause she thinks she got it figured it out, that she finally collected herself as the minutes pass until another friend appears with a sinful picture and she thinks to herself, she's going to have a word or two with you about that teasing game she didn't agree to be a part on.

how can she be mad at you anyway? when you're so good at taking those photos for her? when you look so beautiful making your underwear to the side to have a look of your soaked pussy you so eagerly show to the camera lens? you're biting down your lip cause you really are enjoying it, showing that nasty side you cannot hide and she just loves to have every single time.

her devotion to you knows no barrier at that point, cause people are laughing loudly, singing and dancing under the changing lights and the bands playing in the background, yet sevika's blatantly stealing you from the rest and there's no point in saying no when she's pulling you to the tiny photobooth you thought it'd be cute to take up pictures for the guests and have a little token of your union to your wife to take home, closing down the red curtain to corner you against the camera wall.

"did you like the photos?" you have the audacity to ask with a smile on your lips — "it's a reward for being so good to me all this time."

"is this your idea of reward, doll?" sevika cannot hide the smirk on her face, not when she’s actually enjoying all the talking for once. "haunt me the whole night until i can finally get you alone?"

"it's fun" you try to defend yourself, but you already lost the whole case as her big hands fall against your figure, tracing your sides as she mocks your words: you have different views of fun clearly. "i was going to make it up to you later, vika. the two of us."

"make up to me you say," she chuckles, almost not believing you "well take care of me now then. i deserve it."

she does it really, so you let her push you around, use force to pin you down against the wall as she takes what she's been anxiously craving, cursing against the complex fabric of your wedding dress until she's able to grip it in one hand, noticing the same purple set she saw before in the pictures.

"fucking slut doin' this on purpose" sevika shakes her head in disbelief as she takes a look of your body in the colorful lingerie "and you were going to be cruel and make me fucking wait to have you? on our own wedding day?"

"vika-"

“you took the photos, fuckin´ deal with it.”

“what if someone comes in?”

“i’ll tell them to fuck off,” she promises quickly like she thought about it all already “it’s our day, our wedding.”

there’s something about the way she’s saying it that makes you oblivious to the rest, makes your head spin cause you forgot about your worrying, the guests, the cake and everything in between. so you're not aware of when you pushed the red button on the screen of the photobooth, nor when it activates it's original purpose when sevika's fully into making out with you, capturing the sight of your figures blending together in the same picture — by the second shot you can notice the smirk on her brown lips and in the third, it's not really visible as she seems to be too close to the camera lens, making the image blurry as she attacks on your neck.

maybe it's the thrill of being discovered, the fact sevika can feel the flash of the photos being taken, but she wishes to be patient again — have it in at least a couple of hours on her actual wedding night for a chance, privately, but the strap she choose willingly to wear in a way of fully teasing you, was now pushing against your leg and you have to stop for a second with your brows furrowed.

"is that-" sevika's nodding and you want to say something, but you find amusing to know your wife is wearing a strap-on to your wedding celebration, one you surely have seen already.

"make up to me," she repeats once again, serious this time "for being cruel. after that you can explain me how you took those pictures."

no one interrupts anyway. the music's too loud, the sweat in the air is too strong and guests already drank a lot so no one gives a shit when you're getting on your knees, when sevika's toying with your hair as you're the one to unbuckle the belt from her pants, the one who kisses the happy trail of her lower belly without protesting, noticing the blue silicone as her pant pools in her ankles and your wife cannot seem to care about anything but the sight of you on your knees.

"get it wet" sevika's less gentle now as she's pointing to her fake cock, licking her lips like she can taste yours in them before adding: "so i can fuck you good, okay?"

to be fair — it's just an excuse, cause she knows you're dripping in your pretty purple panties, that the dildo would split you open yes, stretch you out even without making much effort, but she just wants to see how you do it, how you become a drooling mess, salivating all over the floor, getting your dress wet totally unaware of everything else.

and hell she wishes she could feel it all, cause you look so pretty with your mouth full it's insane, pushing against the rubber to take it in your throat further until you make yourself gag, and your wife takes care of you, so she's pulling away but in all honestly the sight of you debauched already only spurs her on 'cause the amount of saliva coating your lips connecting you to her dick makes her insane, cleaning the corners of your mouth with her thumb.

"easy there, get used to it and take it slow," her voice is rough as she helps you put your hair up in a ponytail vika holds in her mechanic fingers, watching your polished moves as you get to work again, relaxing until the tip of your nose is touching her skin, and your eyes are watering but she can feel your breathing on her, the friction between her legs every time you move to take her deeper, the fabric of the harness consistently rubbing between her legs — "there you go bunny. s'good taking it all, go on keep sucking and don't get distracted."

you want to do good, desperate to please her over and over again, you can take it. that's what she says as her hips involuntarily thrust against your mouth, and it's so slippery the rubber cock slides inside your bucal cavity and she's roughly hitting on the back of your throat until there's this sound you make involuntarily each time the strap invades your mouth and makes you choke, leaving you a mess as you're drooling all over your tits.

her flesh hand does a good job on making you move, fingers tightening in your hair as she sets an steady pace against your mouth, swollen lips that close around the shaft as she pushes it deeper, cleaning up your tears cause she don't want your make up to be ruined, all pretty trying hard for her.

she's going to cum like this, inevitable. you're looking up to her with your big eyes, a damn smirk cause even when you're struggling you're having so much fun you cannot help it, and once again she's needy for more than what she'd like to admit.

the movement of her hips rubs her right in the spot when sevika's already so sensitive soaking her inner thighs, forcing her cock in your mouth — it's so good, you're so damn good.

so she cums around nothing, your sloppy movements as you suck on her strap, that zoned out look you have that only makes her moan hastily, leaning against the photobooth to press that fucking button again that's been randomly taking pictures now capturing the features of your wife as you now disappear from the frame, the pleasure on sevika's face she's unaware before pulling you upwards again, making you stand as she parts your legs with her knee forcing you to turn around to have a good view of your ass.

"my good little cocksleeve, always ready to be stuffed," she praises, leaving wet kisses on the expanse of your shoulders, going down your spine as she don't bother to take your panties off, no, she wants to fully fuck you in them "spread yourself open, help me sink in you."

your hands come up to grip on your asscheeks, pulling them aside to help your wife reach deeper, use you better by all means. the tip of the cold silicone wet with your own saliva kisses your entrance, and you melt away when sevika's finally fucking you until the base of her cock disappears inside your warm cunt, holding you still even in a secluded space.

she's shoving her fingers in your mouth, making you suck on her digits with a hungry look: lame, she's gonna cum again and she's acting up so fucking lame.

"fucking take it," the damn camera flashes again and sevika has lost count of how many pictures are waiting outside the booth of you two, but she's too busy to say something when she's sinking inside your drenched pussy, pulling on your hair as she grips on the curve of your hip, making you move with her as her movements get rougher, each time more demanding, deeper — "that's it. make space for me, it's not that hard, isn't it?"

she's on a sinking ship either way: slow is now overrated and she would rather dive in headfirst to openly drown in you.

was that so bad? i mean, you're married to her now.

[milla-frenchy]

Taste in men

5k0 | Joel Miller x Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: your longtime friend, Javi, helps you make your ex jealous Warnings: 18+ mdni. Threesome mmf (Javi and Joel are bi), pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f/m), spit roasting, spitting, light overstimulation, praise kink, size kink, piv, anal, creampies. No age specified Javi is cheeky, flirtatious and a menace, Joel is a little grumpy but mostly calm and settled because I love this dynamic between the two of them. For this story, let's imagine it’s possible to smoke in a restaurant 🙏 (because Javi’s hot when he’s a sassy smoker 😌)

a/n: this is written for @mothandpidgeon @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre ‘s Magic number writing challenge (masterlist) I asked for a prompt and Al gave me "fake relationship." As a lover of threesome fics, thank you so much for this challenge 🙏❤️ Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏 Happy pride 🌈

“Can I ask you a favor, Javi?”

“Sure.” His quick reply was proof of your friendship and mutual trust, if any were needed. “Shoot, baby,” he added, already impatient. He was always on the move, both physically and mentally, he didn't like to settle down and take time for himself, which he wouldn't have known what to do with anyway. And he was always curious to know more about you.

“Would you help me make a man jealous?” 

And above all, Javi was a player. So he smiled and replied, his eyebrow raised, “Absolutely.”

Joel and you had never really been official. You never had dinners with friends or family, you only spent some time together. Time that extended more and more in the last months, turning into nights spent at his place or yours. Or into lazy weekends where you barely got out of bed all day, your sweaty bodies heated by the sun rays streaming into the room. Until the night came and the moonlight took over.

You should have seen it coming, though. Joel had always been clear that he didn't want to be in a relationship. And maybe the bond between you was becoming too heavy for his liking. 

However, when the “unofficial” ended, everything felt hollow. Not only because he was probably one of the most perfect guys you had met, attentive and soft, but taking charge when you needed him to. Or because you loved the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder or your waist when you were walking side by side, showing his inner natural protectiveness. Life lost its color because the physical need of him was starting to eat you alive. 

Now that you weren’t a “thing” anymore, Joel was always on your mind. Especially when you were touching yourself in your bed that still smelled like him, your pussy begging for his cock.

You had a hard time accepting that you were probably the only one feeling that need, considering he was the one that had ended it.

So when you learnt from a mutual acquaintance that Joel was having dinner at the restaurant next to his house on Friday night, you didn’t hesitate to involve Javi.

Javi and you were good friends. Friends with benefits, even, when you weren’t in a relationship, or in something “unofficial”.

Javi, on the other hand, was never in a relationship, it wasn’t his thing. He loved to be free.

You never fell in love with him, probably because you didn't want to be on his long list of heartbroken conquests. Javi always had a different woman on his arm, or a different man to hang out with. He was charming, sensual, full of self confidence, a “go with the flow” type. The most beautiful butterfly. It was out of the question for you to be charmed by the colors of his wings.

You were both ok with the special place you had for each other, and you loved to walk by his side, your arm around his slim waist, his around your shoulder, as if he was your boyfriend and you were his girl. You loved to feel envious glances of women on you in the streets, as Javi threw his both nonchalant and cunty look at them, before kissing your neck to tease them. They would ogle at him, lingering on his black leather jacket, the smell of which you loved so much, and his tight jeans that couldn’t hide the size of the cock resting there. But you were the one he took home to make you come as much as you needed to, until you were panting on the bed while he’d lit a post-sex cigarette. His gaze on you was always soft, tender and sweet when he would kiss your forehead. This was your Javi.

The men's gazes on him weren’t different, and you were amused when some of them had to readjust themselves after an eye-fucking session with Javi. Then he’d just point his chin the bar's bathroom, and they’d join him there.

He was a free spirit, he didn't hide it, and you loved it about him.

On Friday night, shortly before Joel was supposed to arrive, you and Javi were already at the restaurant, the table strategically chosen so Javi could watch the front door and the whole room.

“Late forties, slightly gray hair, ungroomed salt and pepper beard, broad ass shoulders, old green flannel, grumpy type?” Javi asked after you heard the door open, a few minutes later.

“Yep, that's him,” you answered.

Javi's smile widened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckled. “You didn't tell me he was that hot.”

Your dishes had just been served when Javi huffed “Ok, he bit. Did a double take at us and he doesn’t  seem happy,” he smirked. He was way too good at this. Sassy. “I wonder how long it’ll take before he joins us.”

“What? Oh no, I don’t think he’ll do that,” you said, shaking your head.

“Oh, baby… wanna bet?”

You didn’t answer. You just hoped to get on Joel’s nerves a little with this fake date, and hadn’t really imagined he would go that far, but Javi seemed so sure of himself that you had some doubts now.

“Shit, he put the ketchup down on the table so hard I thought the cap was going to pop,” he laughed, unable to hide his amusement, as the idea of ​​Joel being jealous pleased you.

“Ok, let’s tease him a little,” Javi added before wrapping his hand around yours.

“Javi!” you whispered, frowning, but he squeezed your hand, not letting you escape his grip, and looked at you with soft eyes. “Let me deal with it, baby, ok? That’s why you wanted me here, so trust me.”

You heard a loud chair scraping against the floor and then felt Joel’s presence near you. He sat down in the booth, looking at you first, then at Javi.

“Joel?” you said, your voice shaky, unable to hide your surprise at his bad mood. That wasn’t exactly like him. He tried to smile at you but it didn’t really reach his eyes, then turned to Javi, and grumbled “You are?”

“Javi, nice to meet you….?” he replied, waiting for Joel to say his name, smiling and full of charm, in total opposition to Joel's attitude.

“Joel.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Joel,” he said, before lighting a cigarette. “D'ya need some help?”

Javi's audacity was leaving you speechless as your gaze shifted from one man to the other.

“No I don't. Just wanted to say hi to my friend.” 

“You seem too upset for someone who just wanted to say hi to a friend. Don’t you?” He took a drag and blew it towards Joel. “So why don't you stop bullshitting us and tell us why you're here? Because from the way I see it, you look jealous, Joel.”

He was so full of self-confidence, showing no hesitation, no wavering, his eyes fixed on Joel. You on the other hand... you wish you had the ability to snap your fingers and disappear instantly. 

You looked at Joel, who surprisingly had a smile on his face. He was calm, unimpressed, his inner self finally back after this tensed introduction. You relaxed a little, as the pressure left your shoulders.

“You’re gonna tell me what this all is about, sweetheart?” he said softly, turning his gaze towards you. “Because if this guy was really a date… if you didn’t know him, I know you’d tell him to fuck off.”

Javi laughed, always confident in any situation. You, not so much, knowing that Joel had already figured it all out. You sighed, before answering “Javi’s a friend.”

“How much of a friend?”

“A good friend.”

“A good friend,” Joel repeated. “Ok. And you're both here by pure coincidence, or...?”

You looked down at your plate, unsure of how to respond. Being honest and implicitly admitting that you were not over the "ending", or lying. You were lost in your thoughts, knowing that the longer you took to respond, the more obvious the answer was.

You still didn't know what to say when Javi stepped in to help you.

"Oh come on man, stop torturing her."

Joel locked eyes with you as if he was crawling into your soul to find the answers. He frowned seeing what was there, a concern in his expression.

"Wanna come to my place? To talk about it?"

You hesitated. A part of you was glad that he was taking your emotions into account, even if they hadn't been expressed. You looked at Javi and asked him if he could join you, support you if needed, and help you gain perspective. When he nodded, you asked Joel if he was okay with that.

"Sure, sweetheart."

Once at Joel's, he offered you a drink and you all remained silent, until Javi rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, d’ya need me to be your matchmaker or what? What’s wrong with the two of you? But mostly, what’s wrong with you, man?”

“What is wrong with me? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I happily fuck her each times she calls me. And I’d happily fuck her right now. So what’s your problem?”

“You let him talk about you like this?” Joel asked, turning to you. He clearly had a hard time understanding that you could be friends, but he didn't know Javi like you did, didn't know what he hid beneath his player’s attitude — the most reliable, protective, funniest friend. So emotionally smart that he blew your mind many times by reading people.

“Javi is… Javi,” you answered firmly. “We've been friends for a long time and I love him for being so open minded, for always being there for me, as I hope I am for him. So yeah, it’s ok. I fuck him happily, too, by the way.” 

You couldn't help being harsh, your protective instinct towards your best friend taking over.

“Yeah, you do, baby,” Javi agreed, his smile cocky after hearing your words, checking you out openly before turning back to Joel. “You know what? I think you could be turned on in 2 minutes, if you saw what I’d do to her.”

You expected Joel to tell him to fuck off. You really did. But you realized it wouldn’t happen when you felt the atmosphere in the room change, becoming electric and sticky, and the smirk on Javi’s face showed that he felt it too. 

"I’d kiss her the way she likes to be kissed,” he started to say, eyes fixed on yours. “I’d lick her lips to tease her and I’d feel her breathing quicken. I’d rub my cock against her because she loves to feel me getting hard. And then I’d push her against this table, right here, and I’d know, just by looking at her, if she wanted me to eat her out or to split her open. I’d watch her tits bounce while I fucked her hard and deep. And then I’d make her come on my cock, feeling her squeeze it hard. Feeling her shake. She’d make those little moans that I fed on. And I’d fill her with my cum, because I love to know it would ruin her panties and that each drop would remind her how good I fucked her.”

When he stopped talking, only the squeaking of his leather could be heard in the room. You took a deep breath, swallowed hard and resisted the urge to rush to him. To kiss him. To grab his ass and hold him against you, to feel his hardness. 

“Shit…” Joel gruffed, putting his hands on his hips, his stare moving from Javi to you. You were soaked, a drooling mess, in the room with the two men, not knowing what to expect in that moment. 

“I guess I was right about turning you on in no time. So, Joel… are you gonna watch me do it all by myself, or you gonna join me?”

Joel turned towards you and asked “you’re ok with it?”

“Yeah... Yes, I am. If you are, too.” 

“Alright, then.”

“Come here, baby. Let’s show him how good we are at this.” Javi reached out his hand to you and you took it. He let his leather jacket fall onto the floor, revealing his chest covered by a black t-shirt, and you brushed his pecs.

“Bet you’re already droolin’ for me, after hearing this,” Javi uttered against the crease of your neck, but loud enough for Joel to hear. He smiled, feeling you shiver, running his long, thick fingers down your arms, the fingers that made you come so many times. 

You could feel Joel's gaze on both of you. You wondered if he was hard. If he wanted to keep watching or if he wanted to join you. You heard him growl and your pussy clenched with need of being filled.

You smiled back at Javi. He was right, you two were good at this. Everything was so easy, so known, so healthy, your bodies speaking their own native language without words being necessary. Even though Javi loved to express his feelings, it was always just a bonus. That always made you even hornier.

“Yeah… and I bet you’re already hard for me,” you replied, brushing his cheek with your digits, looking at his beautiful face. You loved every single inch of that man, every cell of his body and brain.

“Damn right, I am.”

You kissed his torso after taking off his t-shirt, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. 

You loved his scent, the softness of his skin, its taste. And you loved his innate impatience, slightly restrained with tenderness when his hands were on you. 

It could have been so easy to forget that someone else was there at that moment, but not when it was Joel. When you looked at him, he understood the unspoken, pulled his shirt off and moved closer, urging you to tilt your face up with his fingers. You kissed him, finally feeling his warm, plushy lips on yours, still pressed against Javi, who kissed your neck then lingered on it with his moustache, and your eyes closed in pleasure under their embrace.

Javi slid behind you, roamed your body with his hands from your hips to your breasts, while you were making out with Joel.

Javi slowly undressed you, then brushed your wet folds with his fingers and pressed his hard-on against your ass. Your legs weakened and you squeezed Joel's t-shirt with your fist, holding on to it. For the thousandth time since the beginning of your friendship, you told yourself that Javi was a sweet menace, the definition of sensuality and a call to sin. You were lucky to have a special place in his life.

“Feel it?”

“Hard to miss it, Javi,” you tried to chuckle, but moaned instead when your friend’s fingers caressed your cunt and Joel pushed his tongue into your mouth, his hands on your waist, his crotch pressing against you, too. 

“Oh god,” you whined, as a part of you wondered if it was all a dream, if you were going to wake up soaked and alone in your bed.

Javi nibbled on your shoulder, and the slight pain confirmed it was real, you were really standing between these two men. You sighed with pleasure and kissed Joel again, your hand cupping his hard cock in his jeans. 

“I love when you’re dripping for me… for us,” Javi murmured in your ear, pushing a digit in your drooling heat. “Are you into men, too, Joel?” he asked, kissing your shoulder then your neck.

“It’s been a while since the last time, but… Yeah.”

“Good. ‘cause you’re fucking hot,” your friend said, grabbing the back of Joel’s neck and crushing his lips against his over your shoulder, flooding your underwear with a new wave of arousal. You kissed Joel's cheek as they were making out, until your tongue gravitated to theirs. 

“I understand why you’re so into him, baby,” Javi breathed out, parting from you two. 

You locked eyes with Joel and felt heat reaching your cheeks when he smiled. Javi had many qualities, but subtlety was not one of them.

“Where’s your bedroom, Joel?”

“Over there,” he replied, leading the way.

Javi took your hand when you walked through the door, and led you to the bed as if it were his own room. He lay down on it, pulled you towards him, and Joel followed. You three began kissing, lips crushing on others in a hot dance, until Javi took your nipple in his mouth, sucked and nibbled on it gently, making you moan into Joel's mouth.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled, slidding his palm to your crotch, and you pushed your hips upward to relieve the pressure that was driving you crazy. He chuckled against your lips, his fingers gliding easily over your soaked folds. 

Javi sat up to push your knees apart and leaned down to kiss your inner thighs, his lips getting closer and closer to Joel's fingers buried in your pussy. He licked your folds and the other man's fingers, before sucking on your clit.

His tongue played with your cunt, moving up and down, pushing in between the digits.

“It’s turning you on, baby, having your pussy eaten right in front of your ex?” he teased, making your whole body tremble as you whimpered against Joel’s neck.

"He’s right. You’re soaking my fingers, sweetheart," the man chuckled, but his breath suddenly hitched when Javi cupped his bulge. He kissed your stomach and straightened up, and you were about to beg him to go down on you again when Javi unbelted your ex’s jeans and took off his clothes just like he did with yours. Javi let out a slow whistle, one eyebrow raised, appreciating the sight of Joel's naked body.

Joel's hard cock was twitching against his lower abdomen, its red tip oozing. His massive balls rested against his broad thighs. How many times had you stared at his body, just like Javi in that moment, your mouth suddenly dry at the sight of him?

Your clit throbbed, as Javi’s face was inches from Joel’s shaft. They were the most gorgeous men you had ever seen, and you wanted them to feel good. So you watched, mesmerised, your fingers replacing Joel’s in your cunt and then fucking you slowly.

“Well shit, Joel… I really wanna suck your dick, now,” Javi said looking up at him, making sure that Joel was into it. 

“Go ahead.”

Javi spat in his hand and started jerking your ex off, smearing the precum with his thumb. When Javi took him in the mouth and his head began bobbing on his shaft, Joel quickly muttered a set of “fuck” and “shit,” one hand placed on the back of Javi’s neck, the other clenching the sheets.

Your fingers were moving back and forth between your folds, your empty pussy drooling on the bed, but you didn’t care about it, focusing only on the two men lying right beside you.

The glance Javi gave you looked like an invitation and you leaned down to lick Joel’s balls at first, then under them, where the skin was so delicate, and Javi moved them up to give you full access. His saliva flowed down to your throat when you took them in your mouth then licked the thick shaft. You took turns sucking Joel off, tangling your tongues on the way, turning your ex into a needy, whimpering and grunting mess.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you know that?” Javi told you and the corners of your lips rose up as the flat of your tongue was moving up to Joel’s tip. "It's time to take care of you," he added, pushing you onto your back and lying down next to you. “Want you to come on his tongue.”

A strand of his hair fell on his forehead and you played with it a little, savoring your special closeness once again, grateful to know his tender side. He always looked at you as if you were the only woman he would always come back to, without ever asking for anything in return. You brushed his cheek and your thumb lingered on his lips. He was beautiful.

“You’re gonna make me really jealous,” Joel growled, pushing your thighs wide apart. His broad shoulders settled into your favorite place and Javi kissed the corner of your lips, listening to your moans when Joel let his saliva slide from his lips to your pussy.

You nibbled on Javi's lip when Joel grasped the back of your thighs and pushed them toward your chest to open you fully for him. He dragged his tongue over your soaked folds, reaching your throbbing clit. You squeezed Javi's biceps when his hand moved south, and you heard a sucking sound. A single thought of Javi’s finger between Joel’s lips, the sensuality of it, made you melt and you shivered when Javi brushed your bud softly with his wet digit while Joel was lapping at your cunt. You were feeling dizzy, limbs limp under their fingers and mouths, reduced to a moaning, weak mess between the two men who wanted you to feel good, too. 

You clinged to Javi, lulled by his praise, half in  English, half in Spanish, and then you came hard, your hips rocking towards the men, moaning into Javi’s neck who kept telling you, “you’re ok, baby, you’re ok. We got you,” until you stopped shaking. 

Your friend stood up and lit a cigarette when Joel crawled up your body and lay between your thighs. His gaze on you was soft. You loved feeling his weight again, his arms wrapped around you, creating a bubble where you always felt safe. You took his cock and nestled it at your entrance, just to make him push your folds apart with his fat tip. Just to feel him again.

“You missed him, baby? Missed my cock? That's why you planned that restaurant thing?”

“Yeah, I missed him. Missed having you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you know… I didn't back up because I didn't want you anymore. I backed up because I liked you too much.”

His eyes fixed on you were still warm but gradually they filled up with fire and intensity when he pushed inside you and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, the stretch making you whimper. You kissed him to forget about all the questions swirling in your mind, at least for a moment.

“OI! love birds? My dick's gonna get limp as fuck if you keep up this soft shit, jeez…” Javi grumbled, discarding his jeans and sitting against the headboard, cigarette between his lips. He was shameless, his gorgeous cock hard against his lower belly, wriggling as if begging for your lips. It was massive, too, in the same proportions as Joel's, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have those two men with you right now.

“Commando… Why am I not surprised?” Joel smirked before looking back at you. “Wanna take care of him while I’m fucking you, baby?”

Your mischievous smile shifted to Javi. Yeah, you wanted to take care of him, wanted them both inside you. 

“Hands and knees for me, then.”

You put yourself on all fours and ran your tongue over Javi's shaft, pushing your ass out, allowing Joel to align himself and thrust in, as you took Javi into your mouth.

“Fuck, I missed your cunt, baby. You have no idea.” He pumped his cock in and out, clinging at your hips, his massive balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He was going deep, and he was doing it slowly, to make you feel every inch of his cock.

You moaned, Javi’s tip between your lips, and he caressed your cheek, his ridiculously handsome face tilted down to you.

“You’re so fucking pretty, your mouth full of my cock. Pussy full of his. You’re doing so good, baby.”

His praise bewitched you, as Joel dug his fingers into your hips, holding you as he wished, rolling his hips against your ass.

“Tell me how it feels.”

You licked his shaft again, before stuttering “g- good. Fucking… good.”

“He’s big, right? I bet he’s stretching your little cunt wide open with his big dick.”

“Yeah… yeah, oh fuck!! He’s… he’s so big, Javi. You should… maybe you should try him.”

He smiled and looked at Joel. “If he’s able to leave this perfect hole to let me fill it, and if he wants to… why not?”

“Oh I want to, Javi. Lemme just…- oh, sweetheart, fuck! Easy, baby…. you’re squeezing me so hard, fuck… lemme just fuck her a little more,” Joel panted.

Javi slid beneath you until his body was aligned with yours, and Joel adjusted the position but didn’t stop pushing in. Your pussy was rubbing against Javi’s shaft, as you were licking at his lips, his tongue until your groans increased.

“You’re gonna come like that baby? Gonna give us another one?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, brushing your throbbing clit against him, covering him with your wetness that was dripping non-stop.

“F… fuck, Joel…” you breathed, eyes closed.

“Come on, baby, soak me. Lemme take my turn with you.” You moaned at the idea of them taking turns between your thighs, and clenched on Joel’s shaft, still humping against Javi.

“Oh fuck!! Fuck, fuck… I gotta… fuck I gotta pull out, shit…” Joel said, almost whimpering, hands still gripping your flesh, hips still thrusting in and out, before he finally pulled out.

“You're ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck…. I… fuck…”

“Lay on your back for me, baby. We’re not done with you.”

You shifted position and watched Joel open his nightstand drawer, pull out a tube and coat his cock with the lube.

Javi lay between your legs, his head diving in to lick a long stripe between your folds, making him growl and mumble. “You taste like him. Always taste so fucking good, but I love to taste him on your cunt.”

“J… Javi,” you stummered, voice weak.

“Tell me,” he whispered, nose grinding against your clit, tongue fucking your dripping hole.

“Too… too much…”

“Really?” he smirked. “Why are you rubbing against me then?”

“I… fuck…” You grabbed his head, pulling him closer, the exquisite blend of mild pain and pleasure mingling together.

Joel's broad body appeared behind him, and your friend groaned at the touch of the lube-covered finger.

“Give him one more, sweetheart. You know you can give us more.”

Javi's grunting between your folds increased. You wondered how many fingers Joel was pushing in. One? Two? Another orgasm built in your core at the thought, your fingers digging into Javi's scalp, and you rolled your hips even harder than 10 seconds before.

“You’re so close, so fucking gorgeous like that. Wide open for us.”

His praise made you come on Javi’s tongue, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes onto the pillow. Javi crawled up to you, eyes dark, hair disheveled, drunk on your juices. He slid his tip along your folds, all the way to your clit and you shuddered at this new overstimulation, spreading your thighs wide, giving him full access. He pushed in and you felt whole again. Filled like you needed to be. 

“Fuck… always so fucking perfect for me. So wet. He fucked you real good, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he always does. You liked watching me getting fucked, Javi?”

He didn't respond right away, feeling Joel kneel behind him. “Answer her,” your ex said in a low, velvety voice.

“I loved it. Loved to see you fall apart in my arms. Loved to see you take it, how breathless you were.”

“You’re gonna be breathless too, soon,” you said when Joel placed one hand on Javi's hip.

“You want me there, Javi?”

“Shit, yeah,” he groaned and Joel pushed in slowly, making room for his cock.

“Kiss me. Kiss me. Let me feel you fall apart, too.”

“Oh fuck…”

“I know, baby, I know. You’re gonna feel so good soon. Let him in. Let him in, Javi.”

You knew that Joel bottomed out when Javi did the same inside you, driven by Joel's pace, his body quivering and shaking. 

“Feel good?”

“Fuck… yeah. Shit.”

Joel picked up the pace, his eyes fixed on you. Yours were moving from one man to the other.

“You’re gonna come, Javi? Gonna fill my cunt?”

He nodded, unable to answer, his face twisted with pleasure. Joel's broad shoulders tensed, while his hands gripped Javi harder. One on his hip, the other on his shoulder for leverage. Javi was thrusting into you at the same pace Joel was sinking into him. You licked Javi's neck before nibbling on his earlobe.

“Babe…” he whined.

“Give it to me, Javi,” you said, eyes fixed on Joel. 

“Fuck! I’m gonna come….”

Javi moaned as his cum coated your walls, and didn’t stop humping you until you milked his cock to the last drop, the jolts of his body beneath your fingers and between your thighs then slowing down before they stopped. 

Joel was chasing his climax, thrusting hard and deep, hands on Javi’s hips. His jaw clenched and his body tensed, the veins in his neck bulging, as he threw his head back in pleasure when he bottomed out one last time. He froze, groaning, his large hand gripping Javi's shoulder tightly.

“Fuck,” Javi groaned, before they pulled out and plopped on the bed, Javi between the two of you. You were catching your breaths, bodies covered in sweat.

“See? Told you to trust me, baby, there at the restaurant,” Javi smiled and raised his arm for you to curl up against him. 

“I’m glad I did,” you said before kissing his chest. 

Your hand brushed Javi’s belly then reached Joel, and grabbed his side. He smiled at you.

You didn't know what your future held with those two men, but the weekend was just beginning.

More Javi x reader x Joel: Blackmail series (different AU)

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[selfproclaimed-moviecritic]

From Across the Hall- Doctor Robby x Reader: Part One

Summary - You accidentally try to get into your neighbor's apartment when you mistake it for your own after a night out. Our beloved Doctor notices you have a few cuts that need mending. While taking care of you, things become a little...heated.

Warnings: *I will be adding warnings as I go, this part of the series doesn't contain any smut but it WILL in the future*. AU, blood, idk some medical stuff, mention of witnessed homophobia (not experienced by reader), mild violence, reader has tattoos, dirty thoughts from reader, one singular use of Y/N (there will not be more in future parts), Robby uses a nickname for reader, verbal praise (he calls her a good girl a few times), mild dirty talk, kind of a darker Robby if you ask me, MILD manhandling at one point, Reader can be any size, race, ethnicity, gender, etc! Robby insinuates reader could use her body to repay him(??) not sure how to tag that one. TBH This one is pretty tame but I had to set the stage everyone ok bear with me it'll be FILTHY in the next one.

Authors Notes: I am new to the fandom and this man has taken over my brain the last few days!! I have written a few fics (couple of one shots) before but I'm venturing into the multiple part territory. I'm excited to write this filth! Shout out to @toxicanonymity for inspiring and encouraging me always, this would not exist without her! Enjoy!!

As Dr. Michael Robinavitch (or as many people called him, "Robby") sank into the couch after his 12 hr shift he wondered what he should watch this evening. Something fun and positive or something darker to match his current mood? As he flipped through the various streaming services, feeling like on autopilot as the choices were becoming seemingly endless, he heard his door handle begin to jiggle. He turned his head around to see it slowly turning back and forth. He heard a female voice curse from outside the door. He raised an eyebrow and got up from the couch. He peered through the peephole to find a very confused looking woman trying to get through the door. He unlocked the door, and opened it. 

"Birdie?". You jump a little, and snap your head up towards the door. You had been trying to detangle your keys and keychains from each other. "Oh! Dr. Robby. I'm so sorry. I....I thought this was my apartment." you force a laugh. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm so sorry to bother you!" You go to turn away but Robby gently grabs your forearm. "Woah woah. Birdie you're bleeding!" His dark brown eyes scanning your body with concern. You look down to see your busted up knee. The blood slowly seeping out from the torn nylons. Then you remember your lip is bleeding too.

"Oh yeah.....I kinda got into a fight at the bar." You shrug. The adrenaline must still be flowing through your veins because you hadn't really felt anything yet. Robbys eyes widen. "Shit Birdie, didn't really think you were the fighting type." He looks you up and down to check you out again, then releases your arm. "Um. Yeah me neither." You laugh a little and smile. "Well hold on now, let me take a look at you." He says with a slight worry in his voice. You put your hand up "No it's ok, I bothered you enough this evening. It's just a scraped knee and some small cuts. Nothing I can't handle." He gave you a look that said him checking you over wasn't optional. "Please Birdie, I insist." 

He met you over at your apartment with his First Aid kit. Which, of course, was full of things typical first aid kits would have like Lidocaine, various sizes of bandages, syringes, suture kits, specialized burn creams. "Which room has the best lighting? I gotta be able to see what I'm working with" he says firmly. You gesture to the dining room. "Probably over there, it has good over head lighting" He follows you over and you sit down on a chair next to the table. Robbie gets to his knees in front of you. As he crouches, he lets out a small grunt, signaling to you his knees probably aren't what they used to be. 

"Alright, can you take your nylons off for me? But only to your mid thigh. I can do the rest." He sets both his hands on either side of your thighs, looking up into your eyes. You nod, and you feel something stir in your lower abdomen at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. His dark, serious eyes piercing you to the chair. You nod, and reach up under your tight, black dress. Lifting your hips a little, peeling the nylons down your body until you reach where he instructed. Robbys eyes watch your every movement. 

Your nylons are at your mid thigh and he puts a hand up signaling to stop. You pause. "I've got it from here Birdie." He mumbles. His large hands coming up to slowly roll the rest of them down towards your knees. He sighs. "How did you get into this mess?" He reaches down and gently grabs your left ankle, placing your left foot on top of his thigh to sturdy your leg against himself and the chair. You gaze down at him, his fingers working expertly to peel the nylons away from your wound. Ever so careful to try and not get them stuck in the cut. 

"Well, originally my friends and I were celebrating Pride at Pitt. Then afterwards we went to the one goth club. Hence- You pause for a second. "Why I'm dressed like this." You motion towards your outfit. He looks up at you, then down again at your body. The dress you wore was tight, accentuating your curves. There was a zipper that ran down the front, right in the dead center. It started from the bottom of the dress, to the very top, right to the collar. The rest of the dress was adorned with various small spikes and chains. Robbys eyes traveled to your chest, where they lingered for a moment. You just now realized that earlier, you had lowered the zipper to about your mid chest, so your tits were spilling out slightly. You blushed. Robby smirked, shook his head, and his eyes went back to the task at hand.

"Anyways we went to a bar after the goth club. At the bar, I heard this girl calling my friend a slur. I don't stand for that shit." Robby nodded, his fingers had worked your nylons past your cut. He quickly slipped them down the rest of your leg, and off your feet. He tossed them to the side. The blood had run down your left leg, causing quite a mess down your shin and calf. He took a wet wipe, and gently cleaned down your calf and leg. The dried blood coming off finally. His big, warm hand holding you in place. He quickly finished, and was inspecting the wound now. "And then what happened?" "Well I had a few choice words with her and she didn't like that. So, as I was leaving the bar she decided to punch me. Obviously, I fought back." He looked over and examined what all he needed from the First Aid kit, rummaging through it. Your foot was still resting on his thigh. It felt large and muscular underneath it. 

Going to bite your lip at the pain in your knee, you wince as you remember you have a busted lip as well. That girl at the bar had good aim, you reasoned with yourself. He began softly cleaning the wound. You pull your knee back, and hiss. An involuntary reaction to the sudden burning. "Fuck, ow that stings." "Well good, it's doing its job then." He uses his other hand to pull your knee back into its former resting place on the edge of the chair. "Be a good girl and stay still now." He said gruffly. Your breath audibly hitches. Your stomach drops at his words, did he really just say that? He either didn't hear you or was really good at pretending not to have. He spoke again. "Aren't you covered in tattoos? Figured this would be nothing for you." You squeeze your eyes shut as the antiseptic burn continues to spread. 

"Yeah well, this feels a little different ok?" He laughs a little at your sass. "Right. I'm sure." You contemplate your next words carefully, but decide to shoot your shot a little. "I uh.....like pain. The pain of getting a tattoo feels really good." You peer down at him. He looks up at you with a brow raised and a bit of a darkness in his eyes you've never seen before. He smirks and shakes his head. "Is that so?" You nod your head. He lets out a low whistle, but continues the task at hand. The wound is finally cleaned and he begins to inspect it again, moving your leg a little from side to side. 

"I think you'll definitely easily recover from this one Birdie." He starts to wrap some gauze around your knee. "Why do you call me that?" You decide to question. He finishes with the gauze, and uses some small surgical scissors to cut the remainder off. "Call you what? Birdie?" He looks back up at you, his one hand rests on top of you knee, just where the beginning of your thigh starts. His opposite hand is parallel to your other thigh, just barely touching you. He shrugs his shoulders. 

"Well when you were moving in I heard you singing a ton. You do it a lot, especially whenever you get home from work." You blushed. You never thought anyone could hear you. "You reminded me of a little songbird. Always singing a little tune." He gives you a warm smile. Different than the playful looks he had given you earlier. "I can call you y/n if you would prefer." You begin to protest. "No no I....I like it! It's sweet. Never had anyone call me that before." His thumb ever so slightly rubs back and forth on the side of your thigh. He gives you another smile. "Good. Now let's see that lip, shall we?" 

He stands up and you get to your feet as well. Slowly, though, as the pain in your knee is starting to radiate throughout your leg. You straighten yourself up and feel his hands come up to both sides of your jawbone. "Look at me, Birdie" he says softly. You peer up at him. He towers over you. He's 6'1 but he feels so much taller. His shoulders are broad. His hands feel warm on your face. You feel your thighs clench together. He's so handsome, and his presence is so commanding. 

His left hand remains at the side of your face, keeping you still. His right hand travels down your face, making it's way to your mouth. His thumb grazes over your bottom lip with gentle precision. "That girl got ya real good. But I don't think you'll need stitches. Just gotta clean ya up a bit." he murmurs, continuing to inspect you. You are solely focused on the way his large thumb feels against your lips. Your eyes flutter a bit as the thought enters your brain of him putting his thumb in your mouth, and making you suck on it for him.

"You have a boyfriend Birdie?" You are shaken from your little fantasy. "Um, what?". "Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Robby is now gently wiping a small antiseptic wipe across your lip, focused on cleaning you but his tone held curiosity. "No, to both. Just enjoying being single at the moment." You avoid his eyes, afraid of what they might tell you.

"Hm. Good to know." You look at him finally and his eyes are focused on cleaning your lip, but his mouth holds a hint of a smirk. You try to smile and are reminded of the pain in your lip. "What did I say? Be a good girl and stay still while I take care of you." He says sternly. 

"Now you're just saying that to mess with me." You almost whisper, feeling your cheeks grow red as you respond to him. "Oh? How so?" He feigns innocence. "Calling me a good girl." you say, trying hard to sound like it doesn't matter to you. He finishes cleaning your lip, and tosses the antiseptic wipe on the table behind you. 

He folded his arms to his chest. "How am I supposed to know you like that? Hm?" You shrug. "I don't know....maybe you're just a dirty old man trying to see what riles me up." He laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand behind his neck, now he's the one blushing a little. "That would be pretty forward of me then. Calling you a 'good girl' just to see if it turns you on." His hand falls from his neck and is back to being folded against his chest. "But, good to know it does." He cocks his head a bit to the side, as if to challenge you. Wondering how far you'll take this. 

You had always found him immensely attractive. His dark brown eyes, his slender but bigger nose. How he carried himself. His strong arms. He was so kind too. He was always helping you carry your groceries inside if he caught you downstairs. His beard was mostly brown still but had some grey streaks to indicate his age. The way he touched and spoke to you tonight had you feeling incredibly turned on, and he barely even did anything. 

One of his hands came up to fidget with the zipper on your dress, which was conveniently right where your chest was. His eyes locking with yours. "You should get some sleep Birdie. You've had quite the night." You watch his fingers. So thick and large. They would feel so good inside you. "Want to come join me?" You connect your eyes back up with his. His fingers pause. His hand falls back to his side. "A bit forward of you to say that, hm?" He teases you. You look away, a little embarrassed at the rejection. 

He notices your disappointment and suddenly puts his hand on your waist, roughly pulling you in closer to him. You're against his chest, and close enough now where you can feel his clothed hardness pressing into you. Your eyes widen, and you look up at him. You can feel he's big underneath those cargo pants he always wears. "Don't think I don't want to Birdie but you're injured and I want you to rest. Doctor's orders." You nod, unable to form words at the feeling of his hard cock against your clothed mound.

"Yes sir. Doctor's orders." You reply, in a soft tone, barely audible. He grins a little dirtily. His deep voice lowers to a whisper, and he murmurs into your ear. "Besides, I think I know of a few ways you can repay me when you're all better." You feel his cock twitch against you and you try to stifle a whimper.

He releases you from his tight grip and bends down to pick up his First Aid kit. "Need help getting to bed?" he asks nonchalantly, as if the last minute hadn't happened. You shake your head back and forth. "I think I can manage." He nods his head, and begins to make his way to the door. "I'll come by tomorrow evening to check ya out again. If you want." He turns around and scans down your body again. His eyes lingering on your chest, and then hem of your dress at your mid thigh. "When do you get off work tomorrow?" You ask. "7pm" he responds. "I'll be here." He smiles, turns around and goes for the door knob. Over his shoulder he calls out as he leaves. "Now be a good girl and get some sleep. You're going to need it."

[y2kstarr]

— ᥫ᭡ say so . . . chris and matt sturniolo

where . . . Chris and Matt both spot you at an influencer party they'd gone to, and now they need to see who can bag you for the night. But what happens when, to their surprise, you want them both?

contains . . . smut, build-up to the smut, threesome (absolutely ZERO incest), Eiffel Tower position, oral (m!receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, degrading and praising, heavy chratt bickering

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #5

It was one of those nights in L.A. — every room lit by ring lights and camera flashes, every corner filled with people who lived for the scroll, swipe, and algorithm.

The lights at the party were dim and dreamlike, flickering between pink and gold. The pool out back shimmered beneath strings of fairy lights, dotted with floating roses that looked like someone’s aesthetic choice purely for Instagram. Voices blended into an intoxicating hum of flirtation, clout-chasing, and alcohol-fueled egos.

Having already downed a few drinks and chatted up multiple people, Matt and Chris had been scanning the party for some real fun to get their hands on.

That was when they spotted you.

You were standing by the glass railing, drink in hand, watching the crowd like a cat in a room full of mice. You looked like you didn’t belong — but in the best way. Like the party was orbiting you, not the other way around. Eyes that held secrets. A smile that could break careers. Legs for days.

Matt nudged Chris with his elbow, low and sharp. “There. The one by the railing.”

Chris followed his gaze, and his eyes instantly lit with that telltale look — like a kid eyeing a locked candy store. “Yeah,” he said slowly, almost reverently. “She’s… wow.”

“I’m going over.”

“You? I don’t think so. You’ll scare her off with your fake-deep ‘I do yoga and listen to The Weeknd on vinyl’ bullshit.”

“At least I don’t wear the same cologne as every crypto bro in this zip code.” Matt adjusted his shirt, the top three buttons undone, chest lightly glistening under the party lights. “Let’s see who she actually wants.”

Chris scoffed, fixing his hat on his head before smirking and following his brother, the both of them approaching like wolves in heat wearing designer sneakers.

Chris got to you first, his hand landing gently on the railing beside yours as he leaned in close, just enough for you to catch his cologne — clean, spicy, intentional. “So tell me something,” he said with a smooth, tilted grin, “are you always the most interesting person in the room, or is tonight special?”

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that your opener?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

Before you could answer, Matt appeared on your other side like a scene change. He handed you a drink—something pale pink and artfully garnished. “She already has a drink,” Chris muttered even as you took the glass from him.

“This one actually tastes good,” Matt said with a wink. “Trust me.”

You took a sip out of sheer curiosity. He wasn’t wrong.

You raised an eyebrow as you took the drink away from your lips, looking between the both of them, curious as to what exactly had pulled them both over to you. “And you two are…?”

“Brothers,” they said at the same time. Then immediately glared at each other.

“Twins?” you asked.

“Triplets,” Chris corrected.

“Our brother, Nick, bailed on us to hang out with a girl in an outfit made entirely of glitter,” Matt added.

Ah, Tara, you thought, snickering and shaking your head as you took another drink, not noticing how they both looked over you and gave challenging glares once more.

Chris tried the classic charm offensive — eye contact that lingered too long, compliments that felt tailored just for you. “You’ve got this vibe,” he said, watching you closely, “like you know you’re hot, but you’re not annoying about it. It's refreshing.”

Matt countered by leaning into humor and empathy. “Ignore him. He probably says that to any girl who orders oat milk at Starbucks.”

Chris rolled his eyes before scoffing. “You fuckin' order oat milk at Starbucks, dumbass.”

You laughed, warm and unfiltered. They both visibly lit up like they’d won something. And now the game was far from over.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

They pulled out every trick in the book throughout the night.

Chris took you to the dance floor, guiding you with one hand on the small of your back, showing off the rhythm he usually showed off in tiktok videos. “I could do this all night,” he murmured in your ear as the beat dropped. You felt his confidence like static against your skin, making your laugh and just feel yourself as you swayed your body to the music with him.

Matt waited for his moment and found it when you took a break, lounging on a cushioned daybed near the pool. He sat beside you, just close enough to graze your leg. “You know,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “most of the people here only care about how many followers you have. But I was watching the way you look at people. You see through them. That’s rare.”

Chris walked out to join the two of you, more drinks in his hands as he gave you a toothy grin, adding onto what Matt had said. "Yeah, it's like you're out of this damn world,"

You tilted your head at them both, scoffing softly. “You guys rehearsed these lines or something?”

“Absolutely not,” they both said at the same time.

Which made you laugh again. Damn them. They were too good at this.

As you all drank the shots of expensive tequila Chris had got, he told a story about them that had you nearly spitting out your drink laughing, Matt unable to not snicker along with it as well, the environment warm and thick.

By now, the tension between them towards you was crackling like the edge of a storm.

“So,” Matt said, tapping his glass, glancing over it at you as if he wasn't losing his mind hoping that you'd pick him, “who’s winning?”

You looked at both of them, smile teasing.

Chris leaned in, smug. “Come on, we both know you’ve already picked.”

You bit your lip, leaned back into the cushions, stretched your legs like a queen waiting for her court to bow. “Actually…”

Their eyes locked on you, anticipation tight in their jaws.

“…I was thinking maybe I don’t have to choose.”

Silence. Then a synchronized blink.

Chris was the first to speak. “You’re joking.”

Matt tilted his head. “Wait. Are you serious?”

You just smiled, sultry and slow. “Why pick one when I can have both?”

Their smugness melted into something else—surprise, intrigue, hunger.

“Damn...” Chris said finally, breaking into a crooked grin. “I like you.”

Matt laughed, a little breathless. “Dangerous.”

You smirked at their reactions before you stood, glancing over your shoulder to look down at both of them, raising an eyebrow. “Are you coming, or do I need to find someone else to entertain me?”

They scrambled up like excited puppies, speechless, for once outmatched.

And you? You walked ahead, knowing they’d follow.

Because they were players. But tonight? You were the game.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The bass thudded through the marble floors of the house like a heartbeat too fast from too much tequila and attention, thankfully making noise to cover up the obscene sounds coming from the bathroom you, Chris, and Matt snuck in to finally have some fun.

"Fuuuuck—" Chris groaned out as his grip tightened around the makeshift ponytail he'd made for your hair in his hand, looking down and watching the way you took his cock in your mouth like it was meant to be there.

Your nails dug into his thighs as you gripped them to hold yourself steady, your eyes glossy and fluttering a bit as you looked up at him, being met with that smirking grin on his lips.

"Look like such a pretty fuckin' slut for us, huh Matt?" Chris cooed to you, reminding your of the deliciously thick cock that was Matt's, sliding in and out of your sopping wet pussy from behind.

"Shit— Yeah she does.." He breathily responded, but his eyes stayed trained on how his cock disappeared into your cunt before he'd pull back and repeat, your warm, gooey walls making him bite his bottom lip hard, especially as you clenched around him each time Chris got a little rough with your mouth.

You moaned around Chris's cock as you felt Matt's hands on you, one gripping your hip tightly and the other sliding up your arched back underneath your scrunched up dress around your waist, your tits freed from your earlier make out sesh with Chris as Matt had been busy getting off your panties.

"Goddamn baby, you're just loving this, aren't you?" Chris groaned, his free hand holding his shirt up to his torso so that he had a clearer view of you. He chuckled at your slurred "mhmm" around his cock, your responses muffled by your full mouth.

Chris couldn't help as he gripped your hair harder, thrusting his cock a bit more into your mouth, making small gags and noises spill from you as you let him fuck your mouth, his groans mixing into the noises that filled this dimly lit bathroom.

"Fuckin' hell— y' gonna make me cum, baby—" Chris panted, earning a chuckle from Matt for not holding out as long as he was, but Chris ignored him as you gripped his thighs harder, his other hand nearly tearing his shirt with how hard he was holding it. His breathing became shaky, his legs trembling a bit as his hips sputtered against your mouth.

"I'm gonna— Gonna cum— Holy fuuuuck—" Chris gasped out, groaning loudly as you felt his cock twitch against your tongue before pumping his thick, warm cum down your throat, making tears fall down your already mascara stained cheeks, but you held out, especially with his hand keeping your head in place.

"Told you I'd last longer," Matt snickered, though groaning at the way your pussy clenched around his cock due to you swallowing Chris's sperm, missing the way Chris flipped him off.

"You try fuckin' her mouth next time, then we'll see if you're tough shit," Chris snipped back, looking down at you as he pulled his cock from your mouth, smirking at how your tongue licked up the rest of his residing cum on your lips, before helping you stand up just a bit.

"Fuck— Next time? You hear that, ma?" Matt breathily asked, watching the way you put your hands on Chris's chest to keep you upright before turning your head to look back at him, your pink, glossy lips parted as you face already looked fucked out, making him groan. "You wanna see us again?"

You nodded before moaning as Matt started thrusting harder, deeper into your cunt, suddenly feeling as Chris grasped your jaw and turned your face back to him, his lips brushing against yours.

"Good, cause I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," He purred low, earning a slurred giggle from you before your lips met in a messy, passionate kiss, your nails digging into his shirt as Matt hit that perfect spot within you, your moan swallowed into the kiss.

"Jesus, ma— This pussy's fuckin' amazing— Gonna get me addicted to this shit—" Matt groaned, his body leaning forward to press his chest against your back, in turn, making your chest press against Chris's as you continued to make out.

Your eyes rolled back as Chris's tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with your tongue as you felt like you were getting drunk off of Matt's dick. God, this was fucking heaven.

One of your shaky hands reached back to meet Matt's that still held your hip, gripping it in an attempt to tell him you were close.

"Y' gonna cum, mama? Yeah? This dick that fuckin' good?" Matt cooed, chuckling as Chris pulled from the kiss to glare at him before delving back in to kiss you harder, your moans and whines spilling into his mouth and in between breaths, his hands palming at your tits.

As that burning ecstasy built in your abdomen, you felt as Matt kissed at your shoulder and neck, biting and kissing over the hickies both of them had made during the make out sesh earlier. The sensation of everything felt like too much, Chris's hands kneading your tits, Matt's dick pounding your sweet cunt, both of their mouths on you.

"'M gonna cum ma— Cum with me— Fuck, please cum with me—"

It hardly took much of Matt's begging to make that pleasure snap within you, your back arching hard, your legs shaking, your hands gripping Chris's shirt like a life line, your lips parting from his to let out a loud, gorgeous moan, especially as you felt Matt's hips stutter before pumping your pussy full of his cum, thick spurts painting you gummy walls.

After a few more moments of Matt riding out your highs, he stilled, all three of you panting in near unison, spent and blissed out. Matt chuckled breathlessly at your face, loving the way you looked completely fucked out now.

"Was that good for you, ma?" He asked, earning a nod and a slurred "mhmm" from you before he leaned in to kiss you, soft and deep, before parting, feeling as Chris pressed his lips to your ear, whispering sultrily into it.

"So, who was better?"

You huffed as you rolled your eyes, your voice a bit strained and tired as you answered back. "Both of you were fucking good.."

"Yeah, but I was better, right?" Chris asked like a puppy looking for validation to boost his ego.

"C'mon dude, she was moaning all over my dick," Matt protested.

"Yeah? Well, she was cryin' all over mine."

"That was cause of me."

"Like hell it was! Did you see the way she was drooling on my dick??"

You huffed as they bickered, too tired to tell them to knock it off, just resting your head on Chris's chest and closing your eyes.

Oh you were definitely going to do this again.

☆ : this one's also not proofread, so i'm really sorry if it's bad, i'm so tired chat 😭 I fuckin started my bloodbath this morning and i'm in pain- BUT IM PULLING THROUGH THE BEST I CAN FOR YALL- hope y'all enjoy, mwah <33

taglist 🏷️

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns - Part 3

PART 1 PART 2

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.7K words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky scanned the briefing file. Intel breach. Corporate sabotage. Medium risk, low collateral. High-tech infiltration. One scientist needed extraction. Half the mission screamed you - cyber-forensic work, silent infiltration, backdoor escape route.

He frowned. “She’s not coming?”

Yelena leaned back in her chair, sipping bad coffee from a novelty mug that read ‘Crime, But Make It Cute.’

“She’s not coming.”

Bucky’s heart skipped. “Why?”

“She has the day off,” Ava answered, scrolling through her own tablet.

“But we need someone who can spoof an encrypted relay system on the move,” he said, voice flat but tight. “That’s her.”

“Relax, grandpa,” John muttered. “We’ve got it covered. Ava rewrote a protocol last night, and Bob is flying overwatch.”

Bucky looked back down at the tablet, annoyed. Not at the team. Not at the mission. At the fact that it felt wrong without you. And he hated how that felt.

“She asked for the day off two weeks ago,” Yelena added, tapping through something on her screen. “She deserves it.”

Alexei, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly grinned like he’d been waiting for someone to ask.

“Is big day,” he said, voice full of pride. “I set her up with very nice man. Name is Luka. Banker. Hair like lion. Very symmetrical face.”

Bucky looked up, slowly. “…You what?”

“Date!” Alexei beamed. “They go to brunch. Then art museum. Maybe share pretzel. Classic courtship!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky didn’t move.

“Wait,” John said, looking up from his file. “She’s on a date?”

“Yes!” Alexei slammed a celebratory hand on the table. “I make things happen!”

Yelena blinked. “With Luka? From your bowling team?”

“He does not just bowl! He reads books. Big hands. Gentle eyes.”

Ava smirked. “You sound like you’re in love with him yourself.”

“He is very huggable!”

Bucky barely heard any of it. He was still stuck on date.

Something cold settled under his ribs. He hadn’t known you were seeing someone. He hadn’t even thought to ask. You’d always been here, orbiting close. And now, without warning, you were… elsewhere. With someone. Laughing, maybe. Wearing something soft and light. Smiling the way you always did when you were teasing him - except it wasn’t him.

Alexei’s words filtered back in. “—and if it goes well, they go to second location. Maybe fondue. Is very romantic.”

Bucky pushed back from the table. “I’ll be on the jet,” he muttered.

Yelena watched him go, eyes narrowing. When the door slid shut behind him, she turned to the others. “Okay,” she said. “That man is not okay.”

Bob tilted his head. “Is this the part where he acknowledges his feelings and makes a healthy emotional decision?”

John scoffed. “More like he’ll sit alone in the cargo bay and think about how her laugh sounds.”

Alexei frowned. “But she deserves strong man with good face symmetry. Why is Barnes sad?”

Ava deadpanned, “Because he’s been in denial for months.”

Two hours later Bucky sat strapped in, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had offended him personally. Every passing city below looked like a blur of decisions he hadn’t made. He thought about the last time you had touched his shoulder. How you’d laughed at one of Bob’s ridiculous stories. How you always leaned in just slightly when you talked to him, like what he said mattered more than anyone else’s words.

And now you were giving that attention to someone else. Some Luka.

He didn’t even know what the guy looked like, but his brain was helpfully painting the worst: tall, perfect teeth, probably called you beautiful without tripping over the word like Bucky always did in his head.

He wasn’t mad at you. Not even close. But he was angry with himself.

He’d wasted time. So much time, thinking if he just stayed close, you’d know. That he wouldn’t need to say anything. That maybe feelings could transfer telepathically through awkward silences and missed glances.

You were out there living. And he was up here… sulking.

He hadn’t wanted to make a move. He’d told himself he wasn’t ready. And now it might be too late.

Meanwhile, at a café in Brooklyn, you stirred your coffee absently as Luka droned on about crypto trends and some vacation he’d taken in the Alps with his “boys.” His shirt was tailored, his teeth were indeed perfect, and he had zero opinions on whether or not one should put glitter in combat boots.

You smiled politely. But your mind wandered.

To the Tower.

To the mission briefing you could have been part of.

To a certain grumpy super soldier with eyes like storm clouds and the emotional range of a wounded wolf.

God, you missed him already.

The Tower was quieter than usual that night. Post-mission debriefs were filed. John had gone out. Yelena and Ava were holed up somewhere with wine and a true crime doc. Alexei was in the sauna, probably giving unsolicited dating advice to someone over speakerphone.

And you? You were back.

Bucky noticed the moment you walked in. Not because you announced it - you never did - but because the air shifted.

He was in the common room, nursing a drink and reading the same paragraph of a book for the fourth time when he heard the elevator ding and your familiar footsteps cross the floor.

Then your voice. “Hey.”

He looked up.

You were dressed casually - simple, comfortable, but still carried yourself like you had a secret no one else was allowed to know. Except this time, you looked… tired. Not physically. Just disappointed in a way that sat deep in the shoulders.

Bucky sat up a little straighter. “You’re back.”

You sank onto the opposite end of the couch, kicking your shoes off with a sigh. “Yeah. Just got in.”

He hesitated. Then, carefully: “How was the date?”

You groaned and dropped your head back dramatically. “So bad. So impressively bad.”

Bucky’s heart did something traitorous - thrilled a little too much at the words. He worked hard not to show it.

“He was… polite. I’ll give him that. But every time I tried to steer the conversation toward something fun or personal, he’d redirect it back to himself. Or his investments. Or this stupid vacation he took with a group of guys who all wore matching swim trunks and called themselves the Wolfpack.”

Bucky blinked. “The what?”

“Right?” You said, eyes wide. “It felt like a sitcom where the punchline never came.”

A beat passed. He couldn’t help it—he smiled. Just a little.

You caught it. Your expression softened. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… sounds like hell.”

“It was. But the pretzel was good.”

You shared a quiet moment. Bucky’s chest felt warm and strange. He didn’t speak much, but he listened, and for once, he didn’t feel like he was drowning in his own silence. Maybe it was the soft tone in your voice. Maybe it was the way you’d looked at him when you walked in, like you’d missed him too.

He almost leaned in, just a little, like he was going to say something real for once.

And then Bob practically exploded into the room, arms wide, face beaming like a golden retriever who’d just spotted his favorite human.

Bucky immediately sat back, shoulders going tense.

You blinked, then smiled, bright and open. “Hey, Bob.”

Bob crossed the room in three giant steps and flopped onto the couch between you with a whoomp, knocking Bucky’s knee in the process. “You’re back! I missed you! Did you see the picture of Waffles I texted you?”

“I did,” you said, laughing. “The little hat was a nice touch.”

“He wore it willingly!” Bob looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Did you have a fun day off?”

You paused. “It had its moments.”

Bob turned to Bucky, clueless and radiant. “Didn’t we miss her, Buck? I kept saying we needed her on the mission. She would’ve handled that alarm system in two minutes.”

Bucky blinked slowly. “Yeah. We missed her.”

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, and something quiet passed between you again. But Bob, entirely unaware, continued cheerfully.

“I was thinking maybe we could all go get pancakes tomorrow. Celebrate a mission well done and your return. I know a place. They have whipped cream. And seasonal syrups. And they let you mix them. Which is chaos, but good chaos.”

You laughed again, and Bucky felt the familiar ache settle back into his chest. Because Bob wasn’t competition. He was just kind. Bright and open and honest in a way Bucky hadn’t been in years. Maybe ever. And you looked so comfortable around him. So light.

Bucky couldn’t even be mad. Not at Bob. Not at you. Just at himself, for still sitting there, wanting something and saying nothing.

He stood up quietly, draining the rest of his drink.

“Where you going?” You asked, noticing.

“Gonna turn in,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Long day.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

He paused. Then looked at you - really looked at you. And for just a second, he let something show.

“Glad you’re back.”

And then he walked away.

Behind him, you watched him go. And for the first time since the date, you weren’t thinking about Luka at all.

Valentina slid a sleek folder across her desk. Inside was a badge, a keycard, a stack of onboarding documents, and a post-it with “Val we need a hot tub in the tower—seriously” scribbled in Yelena’s handwriting.

“I want you full-time, Agent. No more coming and going. A room and an official seat at the table. The team already treats you like you’re one of them. Might as well make it real.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your heart said yes immediately. But your brain, ever cautious, flipped through the mental index of what-ifs and escape routes.

“You sure you want to say no?” Val asked, arms folded, one brow arched.

You blinked. “Did I say no?”

“You hesitated.”

“I blinked.”

“Same thing in spy-speak.”

Then you thought about last night’s mission.

How Yelena had linked arms with you when you walked back into the jet, chattering about snack options. How Alexei had announced proudly that he’d protected “the two best sharpshooters in the world.” How Bob had quietly tucked your coat over your shoulders when you’d dozed off.

And how Bucky had looked at you before you parted ways. Like maybe he didn’t want to see you go.

You smiled softly.

“I’m in.”

[hiscalliope]

contained bliss ⋆.𐙚 ̊

summary: u and luigi have gone into a trendy department store on memorial day weekend to buy a couple dresses for the summer. luigi gets a bit handsy when he sees ur naked body in the fitting room lighting, especially so once the red gingham mini dress makes an appearance

warning: clitoral stimulation, sex act performed in semi public setting. this oneshot is an expansion on this post i made a few days ago. (song below is what is playing the background of the fitting room during the fun times) did kind of model the store and the fitting rooms after reformation lol

2,257 words (the longest thing i’ve written yet so im slowly making my way to being able to write longer fics)

⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊ ⋆.𐙚 ̊

“So, we’ve got this dress here…” you gesture to a wheat colored dress decorated with blue flowers and lace detailing along the neckline and sleeve cuffs, great for a stroll in the park or brunch with friends on the weekend.

“And this one here… Oh my God! No wait, this one would be so thrifty of me to reuse on Halloween and be like a fifties pinup girl!” you smile brightly, holding up a red gingham mini dress so that your boyfriend could see what the vision is. 

“What d’ya think? Should I buy it? It's like two hundred twenty dollars though. Realistically, how many uses am I going to get out of this?”

You and your boyfriend, Luigi, have come out shopping for Memorial Day Weekend. Luigi didn’t  necessarily enjoy the act of shopping and heavily engaging in consumerism but rather he enjoyed the quality time he got to spend with you since he works really long hours during the week. The two of you were currently sitting inside a considerably large fitting room at a trendy department store, pop and some alternative music playing in the background faintly. On this Saturday afternoon, the boutique is bustling with customers out on the floor and customers walking in and out of the fitting room area.

The particular fitting room that you and Luigi find yourselves in is pretty spacious, containing a full length mirror that is kept clean and a medium sized ottoman looking seat that your boyfriend immediately parked his little behind on. It even has a little tablet screen attached to the wall where you could have more pieces of clothing brought to the fitting room or get different sizes of clothing you’re already trying on to compare. Quite innovative and quite modern if you ask yourself.

Luigi looks at you intently through the reflection of the mirror, eyes following the curvature of your body.

“You like that one? Try it on.” he said, voice taking on an extra layer of depth than it normally did.

You unbuttoned your jeans, push them down and off your body. You slowly unbutton your delicate linen blouse, push it off your shoulder to reveal a basic white bralette.

Observing the gingham dress, you stiffen the fabric of the bodice area, getting a feel for how heavy the fabric is.

“I think I need to take off my bra for this one. The dress is gonna be pretty tight on the bust.” you say, not really looking at him but rather still examining the dress.

“Do you now?”, the gravel in his voice still present.

“Yeah, duh. The bra adds a extra layer I don’t need. My boobs aren’t even that big, I could definitely go bra-free for this.”

Unhooking your bralette, you let it drop to the floor, your eyes land on the mirror to find a noticeable change in your boyfriend’s facial expression. It’s the look you know all too well, the lust in his eyes was palpable, tangible as if you could physically touch it. His eyes are laser focused on your tits. Through the reflection, you’re able to see some tenting going on in his jeans.

“Lu…no. We’re in a goddamn fitting room.”

You stare at him in disbelief, utter shock at the direction you know the conversation is going to take.

Luigi’s lips twist into a cocky grin, the look he gets when he knows he’s in complete control of a situation. He looks really, really, really pleased with himself. 

Your boyfriend lifts his thick eyebrows and rolls his eyes in defiance, as if behaving lustfully in public is of no consequence to him. 

“Yeah… and?” 

The smug grinning is from him. Of course, he’s getting an absolute thrill over seeing you flustered.

“Luigi…”

You bulge your eyes at him, still looking at him through the mirror reflection, your voice coming out like a combination of both a whisper and shout. A whisper-shout if you will.

“Y/N…” He says teasingly, doing a little imitation of your exasperated tone, a huge grin once again invading the lower half of his face. 

“Just put on the dress already. Lemme see it.”

Tentatively, you grab the gingham mini dress off the floor where you had laid it down while taking off your clothes. You slip the dress over your head, it fit with the right amount of snugness over your body, your tits feel properly secured by the denseness of the fabric. The dress ended two inches below your butt, bending down would need to be strategic. It had elastic banding on the backside so thankfully you didn’t need his help tying or zipping up anything.

Luigi leans back in his seat, back up against the wall, observing every inch of you, not saying a word. His jeans still held the evidence of tenting, he’s at least half hard.

“Your ass looks fucking sexy… like two melons under a picnic blanket…” he grinds out, gawking at your rear end.

“Luigi, please. Don’t make me get like this now. We. Are. In. Public!", you plead with him. It would be really really hard to fuck or even suck him off in a semi public location, neither you or Luigi were the “silent lover” types.

He bites his lower lip slightly as he smiles, “But what if I want to see you like this? It’s fun.”

Suddenly, standing up from the seat, he begins to make his way towards you, with purpose and with intent. You turn your gaze from the mirror and face him.

“Turn back around.” he says with an even, bass heavy tone.

You hastily turn around, immediately noting the command, the command given with the benediction of the lust of a man besotted with his girlfriend’s body.

 Grabbing the hanging fabric from the hem of the dress by your rear end, he yanks it upward, exposing the plump, pebbled skin of your ass. His large hand grazes your right cheek and gives it a firm squeeze.

You gasp, surprised by the blatant move but mostly his touch sent your pussy throbbing in anticipation. It never took much for him to have you wrapped around his finger, today he got lucky.

“What happened, Sugar? Got you feeling some type of way?”, he asks in mock innocence. Sugar was not a nickname he called you everyday. Sugar was a nickname reserved after he had successfully completed a game of Cat and Mouse, after he had teased plenty and knew he had you right where he wanted you.

Cut back to today and he’s making you gasp and squirm, massaging your ass like pizza dough, rubbing his boner against your skin so you can feel just how insane you make him. How feral and how primitive you make him become in the blink of an eye.

His right hand snakes around your legs over to the front hem of your dress, slipping beneath your cotton panties. Trailing over your vulva momentarily before slipping through your folds.

“Ahhh, Luigi!”, you moan as his hand finds your clit. Upon listening to your loud moan, his other hand immediately flies to your mouth, covering it, stifling anything further.

“Sssshhh sugar, can’t have anyone ruining our fun.”, his thumb touches your lip softly. In a wild moment of defiance, you capture his thumb in your mouth, grazing your teeth over his skin ever so slightly.

Luigi rubs slow clockwise and then counterclockwise circles over your already sensitive clit, he keeps his eyes trained on the mirror, occasionally laying kisses down on your neck. Sucking and trailing his nose over your thrumming carotid artery. He places a tender kiss on the noticeable palpitation on your neck, letting out a small chuckle before looking back at you through the reflection.

“You look incredible in this lighting, moaning from my touch. I’m the one getting you like this, I’m the only one that can make you feel this way”, he grounds out, rubbing you with more intensity. “Say it. Say I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

“You —” you extend a hand out, placing it on the surface of the mirror to support your weight, “are the only one who can make me feel this way”

You hum lightly to keep from moaning, the two of you extremely close to the mirror where your hot breath is forming condensation on the reflective surface.

“Baby… I’m close. Oh my god, oh..” pressing your lips together in a tight line, desperately attempting to curb any intrusive thoughts to just let loose and moan his name the way you would normally moan it, to scream the way you would normally scream.

“Yeah, that’s it. Yes, sugar…good girl.” he whispers, kissing behind your ear, his small stubble scratching your neck, making your heart lurch and even more pleasure build up at your core.

Your eyes are closed tightly, he can tell you’re close as the stimulation on your clit grows faster and more erratic.

“Cute little dress to match the cute little girl with the very cute little pussy. Just my luck that all three things happen to be mine."

Your boyfriend’s face is contorted in pure pleasure, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes full of both lust and love battling for dominance. His touch is gentle but strong, he is determined to have you come undone. His boner was raging in his jeans, feeling the stiffness on the crook of your ass. 

“I’m gonna buy this little dress for you and you’re gonna wear it on Monday when I give you the greatest fuck of your life, a little Memorial Day fuck if you will. Don't expect that dress to survive the night.” he demands, breath ragged.

“Luigi! I’m gonna come! God, Luigi!” you whispered, reaching behind you, gripping his hip tightly, finally coming apart in his hands.

“Yes, that’s it, Sugar. That’s it”, he says, continuing to touch your clit as you ride out your high, keeping the bliss contained within the confines of your intimate space but felt nonetheless.

Your orgasm feels spectacular, heart pounding and mind altering. Your legs go weak, almost giving out right on the spot. Anticipating a possible fall, Luigi reaches out, hooking his arm around your waist and pulls you towards himself. Your heartbeat reverberates ferociously, the steady pounding your ears. He breathes with you, in and out, placing a breath-like kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Man, you smell so good”

Riding out the last of your high you mumble, “Hmmm, do I?”

He spins you around, pressing you flush to his chest, “Every part of you gets me so addicted, everything. You make me want to do things I would never even dream of doing with someone else.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead tenderly and takes out his phone to snap a mirror selfie of your embrace, “For the wallpaper.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. He always manages to inject some humor into situations like right now, you know exactly why he decided to take that picture. So he can always remember that had rubbed your pussy to orgasm mere moments before it was taken.

“So… what are we gonna do about your little ‘problem’ down there?”, you ask, referring to his still hard cock struggling beneath the restrictiveness of his jeans.

“Oh this?”, a deep blush grows on his face. Why is he blushing now when he’s spent the last fifteen minutes inducing an orgasm out of you with practically zero shame? He’s embarrassed now? “It’s fine, I’ll wait it out for ten minutes. It’s gonna go away, trust me. I’ve had this happen to me enough times, I just need to close my eyes and think of something very un-sexy.”

“When has this happened in the past?”, a mischievous glint in your eyes and a cheeky grin blossoming on your face.

Luigi tilts his head slightly to the right, “Y/N, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t know what might go on in my mind when I’m at work or in public and I can’t exactly do anything about it.”

“Ooooh, I see. So you’re like obsessed with me?”

He lightly squeezes the small of your back, “Yeah, I’m fucking obsessed. So. Hopelessly. Obsessed.”

A sharp knock at the door disturbs both of you, jolting you awake from the trance of existential bliss you and Luigi found yourselves in.

You walk over and open the door a fraction, “Yes?”

A female store associate, quite a bit taller than yourself, wears an uncertain expression on her face, “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt you but I noticed you’ve been in here for quite some time. No rush, but I was just checking in to make sure everything was ok.”

“Goodness, I’m so sorry. We just got extremely distracted talking but I’ll be taking both of these dresses today. Just give us like… five more minutes. I’m so so sorry!”

“Alright, well when you’re ready, I’ll check you out up front”, the store associate politely smiles and backs out of the doorway.

Turning toward your boyfriend who was back on the seat, with his eyes closed and head in his hands, you say, “You have five minutes to get rid of your little issue before we go back out.”

“Here.” you toss him your AirPods from your purse. “Go listen to those geeky podcasts you like and turn around.”

Luigi chuckles breathily, putting an AirPod in each ear and closes his eyes, determined to be a compliant good boy until the next opportunity to switch things up and ravish you again comes along.

[a/n: hey there lovelies! hope you all liked this one! i’m especially proud of this one because recently i’ve been hopping from idea to idea and haven’t been able to stick to one project for more than 24 hours which is pretty frustrating when u want to put out content. I am making a tag list so if you’d like to be added for future works, do leave me a comment! 💋 @iinfinitelimits requested this from me so here u go :) ]

[gldwing]

Stay?

Warnings: no warnings, just angst and fluff. A/N: this is my first fic ever, i've taken inspo from other lovely writers on this platform. i also just felt like writing something so enjooooooooooooyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -------------------------------------------------------------------- The door clicked behind you harder than intended. Billie didn’t flinch.

She was sitting on the couch, phone face-down on the armrest, eyes blank, arms crossed like she’d been sitting in the same position for hours. The TV was still playing something no one was watching.

You didn’t bother easing into it this time.

“Are you seriously gonna keep ignoring me?”

She didn’t look up. “Not ignoring. Just done talking.”

“Cool,” you muttered. “That makes this way easier.”

Now she looked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m sick of being in a relationship with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be in one.”

Her laugh was short, humourless. “Right. Because I’m not giving you a fairy tale, I must not give a shit.”

“No. Because I ask what’s wrong and you shut down. I try to help and you treat me like the enemy. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she snapped, standing. “You’re not responsible for how I feel.”

“No,” you said. “But I’m affected by it. And you pretending like I’m not just makes this worse.”

Billie was already pacing. “You want me to bleed out in front of you every time I’m off just so you can feel better about yourself?”

“Jesus, no. I just want to not feel like a stranger in my own relationship.”

The room was still for a beat.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ask for this conversation.”

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask to feel like I’m fucking begging for scraps.”

Billie looked at you like she hated you for a second. Not really. Not truly. Just that flash of I want this to hurt less, and right now you’re the closest target.

“Maybe you should just leave,” she said.

You didn’t move.

She blinked. “Go on. Door’s right there.”

You stared at her. “That what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“You want me to leave? Then say it like you mean it.”

She looked away.

“Billie.”

Still nothing.

You exhaled, slow and shaky. “I’m not playing chicken with you. I’m not standing here hoping you’ll stop me. You either want to figure this out or you don’t. But I’m not gonna keep showing up for someone who doesn’t show up back.”

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the buzz of the fridge. Then:

“I don’t know how to let people stay,” she said flatly. Not emotional. Not dramatic. Just tired. “I’m always waiting for the day you stop trying.”

You walked over, slowly. Sat down next to her without touching her.

“I already tried. Every day. Still doing it.”

“I know,” she whispered.

You looked at her.

“I’m not asking you to magically be okay,” you said. “I’m asking you to stop punishing me for giving a shit.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the wall like it held all the words she didn’t want to say.

Then she shifted - just barely - leaned her shoulder against yours.

You didn’t move.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said finally.

“Then stop pushing me like you do.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I’ll try.”

She didn’t move for a moment. Then, with a quiet, almost hesitant breath, she curled into you. Full body. Not just a lean, but like she was exhausted and letting herself give up the weight of everything she’d been holding. Her head tucked into your chest, her hand found your hoodie and fisted into it like she needed something solid.

You wrapped your arms around her immediately. No hesitation this time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice small, muffled. “I mean it.”

You kissed her hair. “I know.”

“I just get scared. Even when nothing’s wrong.”

“I get it,” you said. “I really do.”

She pulled back enough to look at you, eyes glassy but open for once - really open. “I’ll get better at saying it. I’ll stop making you guess.”

You nodded. “And I’ll stop treating every silence like a threat.”

She gave a soft, broken laugh. “We’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But I like you. Kind of a lot.”

She smiled - tired, but real. “You like me, huh?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Billie leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t slow or dramatic - just warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for forgiveness, just offered peace.

When she pulled away, she whispered, “Stay?”

“Always,” you said.

She grabbed the blanket from the couch, draped it over both of you, and burrowed into your side like she finally let herself be soft without apology.

The TV kept playing in the background, but neither of you paid attention. She fell asleep with your fingers laced in hers, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like something had actually shifted.

Not fixed. Not perfect.

But hers. And worth it.

[nialovessatoru]

thinking about academic rival gojo satoru who was mesmerised from the first time he saw you and grew even more infatuated with you as he realized how smart you were.

you didn’t engage much with other people, didn’t care for gossip or drama, never laughed at his jokes in class

only once, you called him a “pretentious mess” under your breath. you didn’t even stick around to see him splutter.

and god, he was obsessed.

he very quickly and harshly had to face how one-sided his infatuation was.

it was a stupid attempt at flirtation, something he didn’t spend too much thought on, because if he did, he would’ve overthought it and never said it.

on second thought, maybe that would’ve been better.

he leaned against the door of the classroom as you were about to leave, with a stupidly cocky grin that concealed his nerves effortlessly as he said something like,

“you know, it’s kind of hot when you get all snarky while explaining”

you blinked.

and blinked again.

then let out a harsh scoff.

“don’t you have somewhere to be, gojo?”

then you brushed past him without a second glance.

from your perspective, it cemented what you already assumed; gojo satoru was a cocky, smug asshole who only talked to you to get under your skin.

so that’s what you let yourself believe.

you became more competitive, tried to get better grades than him on everything and got infuriated when that resulted in the both of you becoming top of the class, equal in academic achievements.

at first, gojo didn’t understand why you always seemed so agitated when he scored better than you. he studied hard to impress you.

but you weren’t.

he entertained the rivalry regardless, seeing it as a game, something to bring you two closer in its own way.

when it finally clicked and he realized that you must’ve taken it as him seriously trying to defeat you, he decided to try again.

he approached you when you were sitting alone in the cafeteria, asked if you wanted to get coffee, real soft, real genuine.

and you just stared at him.

“what?”, he’d chuckled, awkwardly. “coffee. with me. it’s not poisoned, promise.”

your eyes narrowed at him, tone sarcastic.

“oh wow, you must really have too much time. and a great sense of humor too.”

he stilled.

“…what?”

“look, if this is some weird prank or pity thing, save it.”

and you grabbed your bag and walked away. again.

and for a moment, gojo just stood there, stunned.

he didn’t realize you thought he was that much of an asshole. that you took his efforts and the rivalry he assumed to be a friendly competition so negatively.

he didn’t know how to tell you he thought of you more than he should.

that he noticed the way you clicked your pen and poked out your lower lip whenever you were thinking.

the way your handwriting would get messier and slanted more towards the left, when you suddenly came up with something.

that the day you won against him in the debate and that the hint of pride you showed when you countered his claims never left his head.

something in his chest ached at being rejected this way but it ached even more at the realisation that you truly disliked him.

and okay, maybe he deserved your cold shoulder because he was entirely too cocky that one day and made a comment that clearly struck you the wrong way, which he never tried to fix.

but he will from now on.

god, he will.

he swears he’ll show you his true self. not your rival. not the popular prick who charmed girls left and right.

but the satoru whose heart felt like it was struck by cupids arrow from the first time he observed you from his desk on the other side in class.

he’d try.

try hard to make you see him for real.

because he needed you to know that side of him that wanted nothing more than your recognition.

the side of him that had fallen so hopelessly and deeply in love with you.

—————————-

a/n: my fingers are itching to write a full fic about this because oh my god, i need him bad.

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.3k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, this chapter is pretty mild so not many tags are necessary (buckle up for the ride, though)

a/n. here it is, y'all! the product of pursuing my random brain child that one fated day in november 2024. this has been my biggest writing endeavor yet, and i worked so incredibly hard on this, from conceptualizing to penning it down to editing it until it was decent enough to post. so i sincerely hope my love and excitement for this fic translates into my writing. i'd absolutely love to hear what you think, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me! enjoy <3

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think someone with a time-slowing quirk is manipulating this shoebox of a room they unceremoniously stuffed you in with nothing but this middle-aged, bearded man roughly 30 minutes ago.

If 30 minutes is even an accurate approximation.

The said man is clicking away at his keyboard behind the desk in front of you, humming a non-descript tune, and, having already studied the room that seems to be an abandoned office, you take the opportunity to clock him. Aside from being around his mid-40s and sporting a full-grown beard, there’s something about him that rings the metaphorical alarms in your mind, signaling some sense of familiarity.

And it’s either you need to work on your subtlety or he’s just plain out observant, because he must have noticed your staring, shifting his gaze from his laptop screen toward you, mouth formed in a friendly smile. “Getting antsy?”

“I—” you start, before trailing off. You weigh your options for a second, before settling with: “It’s hard not to be, sir. Would you care to tell me what I’m here for?”

At that, the man merely purses his lips in a thin line. “Unfortunately, it’s not my place to say. I was just assigned to meet you here. At least,” he checks his silver-plated watch, “until further company arrives.”

You feel yourself frown. “And the men who arrived out of nowhere and fetched me from my apartment?”

He nods, “They were simply assigned to get you, yes.”

A burning question bubbles right up your throat, but you tamp it down, thinking better against it. It’s too soon, you think. You have to dig a bit deeper. And so instead, you finally prod at that inkling from a moment ago that’s been vying for your attention.

“Have we met before, sir?”

That must’ve been the right thing to ask, because the man visibly lights up. He swivels on his office chair, turning a bit so that he’s now fully facing you. “Why, yes! I thought you wouldn’t remember.”

You toss him the most genuine smile you can muster back in courtesy, but also to goad him into continuing. You hope that’s enough for now. “From a while back, right?”

“Yes!” he enthusiastically responds, whatever document he was working on now completely forgotten. “I was one of your earliest escorts until the commission relocated me overseas. I just got reassigned to you for this project, you see.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

However, you don’t get to revel in how you successfully coaxed information and confirmation out of him without lifting much of a finger, because he quickly realizes his mistake. He splutters as you watch the blood drain from his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for the man.

“Don’t worry,” you offer with that placating tone you’ve mastered over the years. “I won’t tell them you just said all that.”

He eyes you suspiciously, as if he’s debating whether or not you’re saying the truth, and you’ve half a mind to use it on him just so that the sole person you’re stuck in this jail-like space isn’t looking at you like you’re after his head, but you don’t get past considering that because the only set of doors bursts open and in comes an all-too-familiar face.

The both of you whip away from your stare down to look at the unannounced guest, and you instantly stiffen when you get a good look at the person leading the group.

Clad in a two-piece slate gray suit, the head of the Special Quirks department of Japan’s Hero Commission waltzes in, seemingly decades older than the last time you saw him. It hasn’t even been five years since, you think, yet he’s aged so much. Trailing right behind him is the woman you vaguely remember trailblazing the Missions committee, hair pinned up in a no-nonsense low bun and sporting a navy blazer and skirt combo.

And, perhaps in an effort to ground yourself in the face of impending danger that always came with the two, you’re about to look down at what you’re wearing in comparison, which, you recall is a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants you never intended for people to see you wear, when it happens.

You lock eyes with the third and last person entering the room, and instantly it’s like you’re doused with a sobering bucket of ice-cold water at the same time someone lights a fire under your ass. One glimpse at his firey gaze has your brain screaming at you to look away—anywhere, anywhere but at him—and pretend that didn’t just happen all the while mentally willing him away from existence, but you find yourself frozen in your seat.

Bakugou, who’s dressed casually in a plain black shirt and loose jeans, stares right back as he follows the two officials. You’re the first one to break eye contact, and words aren’t uttered as the guy from earlier scurries out of his seat, offering it to Asahi, the man in the gray suit, who accepts it thanklessly. Moriyama takes the seat the underling drags next to Asahi, and Bakugou plops himself down on the one around a foot to your left, the both of you now facing them.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san,” Asahi says, finally breaking the silence. The familiar escort who you now remember as Tanaka only bows at him, before standing silently to the side.

At that, Asahi shifts to regard you, the corners of his lips twisting upwards in what you think is an effort to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. With both arms on top of the hardwood desk and hands clasped together, he clears his throat.

He says your name as a start, which sends an eerie tingle down your spine. “Long time no see, huh?”

You don’t know how to reply to that, also acutely aware of the man beside you, so you merely nod.

“We apologize for dragging you here on your day off,” he continues, “It must’ve been quite jarring—having our men be at your doorstep.”

You fight back the urge to ask him how the hell he knows it’s your day off today, deciding in the last second you don’t want to know the answer. Frankly, you wouldn’t be shocked if he said they’d been keeping tabs on you and that they even know what brand of underwear you wear.

“I was surprised, I’m not gonna lie,” you respond, voice small. And just because you’re over this whole suspense factor, you cut to the chase. “What’s this all about, Asahi-san?”

“Skipping the pleasantries, aren’t we?” he chuckles, and you resist the itch to scowl at him. You never liked the guy—although you think it must have to do with all those extreme assessments he made you take growing up. To your relief, though, he relents. “I’ll get straight to it, then. We have an important mission for you.”

And as if you weren’t already stiff enough, you feel yourself tense even more, and the action doesn’t go missed by Bakugou, whose eyes you feel boring into the side of your face.

Asahi takes your stunned silence as a cue for him to go on. His gaze drifts to the pro-hero beside you, a knowing smirk decorating his features. “I trust that you’ve met?”

Despite yourself, you chance a glance at the ash-blonde, only to find him already looking at you. You feel yourself flame as he studies you with mild recognition, as if he’s seen you before but can’t quite figure out where.

Bakugou finally speaks up after a beat, voice gruff and eyes remaining locked on yours. “UA Gen Ed, same batch as me, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply dumbly, surprised he even remembers. “And you’re pro-hero Dynamight.”

To that, he gives you a curt nod, donning a serious expression as he turns back to face Asahi. “Go on and brief her about it already. I ain’t got all day.”

“We’re getting to that, Bakugou,” the old-ish man retorts, seemingly unfazed by the pro-hero’s impatience, before readjusting his focus to you. “As I’ve said, we’re assigning you to a very crucial mission. We got word yesterday that an up-and-rising quirk supremacist group is planning an attack somewhere in the city.”

“A-attack?” you croak, “Who’re they gonna attack?”

“That we’re not sure yet,” Moriyama joins in on the conversation, her countenance stern. “But we’re guessing quirkless individuals or people with weak quirks. We won’t know for sure, though, unless we get people on the inside.”

“And that’s where you two come in,” Asahi finishes, eyes darting back and forth between you and the man beside you. “You’re going undercover.”

You gawk at him, suddenly robbed of all words. From the corner of your vision, you sense Bakugou side-eye you, and that’s all the warning you get for what he’s about to say next.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, prominently exasperated by the entire situation. “‘s like you’re feeding a sheep to the fucking wolves.”

Instantly, you feel a sense of indignation wash over you at the comment, which is immediately followed by the familiar feeling of resignation.

You’ve gone through these motions before. Over and over again, in fact.

And normally, you’d let snide comments about the status of your quirk slide, like you’ve been taught to the entirety of your life, but apparently this time that’s not an option.

Because Moriyama gives him a pointed look, as if chastising him on your behalf. You don’t dare to check how Bakugou’s receiving it, but you’re assuming not well.

But before the pro-hero can say something in his defense or provoke the woman, Asahi interjects with a good-natured laugh. “Slow down there, hero. Don’t get too cocky now that you just got named Vogue Japan’s Bachelor of the Year.”

Bakugou doesn’t miss a beat. “Shut the fuck up.”

With a dismissive wave of a hand, Asahi continues. “And no, I am not making a reckless move here,” the middle-aged man peers at you, “This woman right here has a special quirk.”

At that, you steal a glance at Bakugou, and the look on his face betrays the thing he’s evidently trying hard not to say.

‘What’s so special about this girl from Gen Ed?’

He manages not to blurt that out, though, instead going for: “How special?”

“Let’s just say it’s because of her that departments like mine exist in the commission.”

“Quit being fucking cryptic,” Bakugou spits out, just as you say: “It’s really not that special, though.”

That catches his attention, and you feel yourself shrink when his intense, crimson eyes land on you. You, however, fight to maintain his scrutinizing gaze when he pipes up. “What can you do, huh?”

“I—”

“How ‘bout you show him, dear?” Moriyama cuts you off with a knowing smile.

You don’t get to argue because the woman promptly sends Tanaka off to the door, and the four of you watch the guy as he rushes out, leaving you in a few moments of silence, before hurriedly walking back in with a nervous-looking young man in tow.

You decide then and there that you really don’t want to do this.

“An intern, Moriyama-san,” Tanaka announces in front of you with a booming voice, gesturing to the person beside him. “Just as you requested.”

“The hell do we nee—”

“Go on, Y/N,” Asahi encourages with a quiet voice, which you note is in an attempt to not be heard by the poor intern.

The poor intern who’s gaping at #2 pro-hero Dynamight, looking like his soul just left his lean body.

Your gaze shifts between the pro-hero and the young man, and you sit watching the silent exchange unfold before you. You can tell Bakugou is getting annoyed by the unabashed attention of someone who’s likely a fan, and the latter isn’t looking all too hot.

And so with reluctance, you do it.

“Hey,” you call out to the intern, who whips to look at you after another attempt when he doesn’t respond to the first.

“Wha—” he starts, but trails off when you decisively tug on the imaginary strings, and in a split second, it’s like the nerves that were just frying his system a beat ago get washed off his body, his face morphing to that of tranquil calmness in a blink of an eye.

You toss him a tight-lipped smile as he stares right back at you, serene and perhaps a tad bit confused, although you doubt someone not privy to your ability could recognize it on his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

You turn to look at Asahi, who’s now leaning back on the office chair with a proud grin on his face, as if he’s the one who just did the demonstration.

You try to suppress the mild annoyance at the sight of him.

You reason to yourself that he’s the one who made all this possible, after all. He deserves to be proud of the stunt you just pulled, at least to some extent.

And just as quickly as he entered, the intern is promptly ushered out of the area by Tanaka. Once the door clicks closed, you then shift to examine Bakugou, who you quickly find is already staring at you, an inexplicable expression etched across his sharp features.

“You make people calm, is that it?”

“Oh, she can do much more than that, boy,” Asahi boasts. “She has the ability to tamper with any person’s emotions. She can diffuse or exacerbate existing ones or transform them into another affect entirely.”

“But very few people know that, Bakugou,” Moriyama adds with a warning edge to her tone. “It’s why the commission took her under its wing at such a young age. It’s why—”

“You disguised her quirk as something else and made her take the Gen Ed route.” Bakugou finishes with such certainty that catches you off guard, despite being well-versed in the fact that he is insanely perceptive.

You would know. Really, you would.

Because that’s one of the main reasons why you liked—

“It’s so that the wrong people don’t catch wind of her and her quirk, Bakugou,” Asahi supplements. “It’s for that very reason we’ve named her quirk as luck instead of manipulation. Which is what you’re going to do undercover.”

“What’s he gonna do, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head to gesture to the pro-hero beside you.

“He’ll infiltrate the group alongside you, dear,” Moriyama answers. “He’s one of the best heroes we have, and well…”

She glances at Bakugou with such hesitance that juxtaposes the confidence she’s been sporting this entire exchange, before continuing. “…We’ve heard this group has been eyeing to recruit Bakugou, specifically.”

You almost choke on your spit.

Recruit the #2 pro-hero of Japan?

What kind of stupid agenda is that?

To your surprise, Bakugou doesn’t say anything in response to Moriyama’s weighty statement, his usually penetrating gaze fixed on the ground.

“He’ll make sure you’ll be safe, Y/N,” Asahi furthers. “He’ll introduce you to them as a useful tool, what with your ‘luck’, which you’ll tell them works by boosting the chances of success of the people you’re working with. And, given how your quirk actually operates, Bakugou here will emphasize your importance by requesting for their protection of you, so that you can get closer to the people you’ll need to manipulate.”

“How’s he gonna do that without raising suspicion?” you can’t help but ask.

“That’s the thing,” Asahi quips, before heaving a deep sigh. “At this point, there’s no saying for sure, but you’re gonna have to be ready to play the part of a couple if the situation calls for it.”

“A c-couple?” you barely manage to get out.

To that, Asahi and Moriyama only nod at you with such seriousness that you can’t find it in you to protest any further. Still, you try to express your uneasiness.

“I don’t know—if I can pull that off. I—”

“You have your quirk at your disposal, Y/N,” Moriyama assures you, to your chagrin. “You’ve trained hard enough to know when and how to use it.”

Well.

There’s not much left for you to do than nod in resignation, especially with the finality of her tone, so you do just that.

None of you says anything for a brief moment after that, a rather tense silence enveloping the tiny office. And you’re about to ask them one more time if they’re fucking sure about all this, but Asahi beats you to it.

“Do either of you have any more questions?”

You open your mouth to try again but this time Bakugou speaks first. “I do. Let’s say shit goes down and we have to engage this shitty ass group in combat. Does she know how to fight? You know, beyond just playing with emotions?”

You feel yourself bristle, and before your brain can catch up and rein you in, your mouth is already running off. “I’ve had extensive close-combat training, actually. So worry about saving your own ass, hero.”

Bakugou doesn’t get the chance to spew something right back at you, though, because Asahi cuts the tension with a booming laugh. “She actually has, Bakugou. Like I said, we’ve been training her since her quirk manifested.”

“Really?” he asks, a little bit too sarcastically for your taste. “And what’s in it for you, huh, Y/N?” the pro-hero turns to regard you, tone riddled with just enough taunt to make your blood simmer. “Why’re you going along with their whim?”

“They pay well,” you state as simply as you can. “My job as a guidance counselor isn’t exactly the most lucrative.”

“That we do,” Asahi chimes in before Bakugou can drop any borderline degrading remark, which you’re thankful for. You don’t know if you can handle any more backhanded comments from the man you used to fucking dream about way back in high school, who—apparently—also happens to be the man you’re gonna have to pretend you’re dating if things go south.

“If you don’t have any more questions,” Moriyama interjects, “There’s one last thing. We don’t expect them to go lax on either of you despite what you can bring to the table. So anticipate restrictions on your speech and movements—there’s a high probability that they’re gonna place bugs and trackers on you. The same goes for your online footprint.”

At that, you and Bakugou wordlessly nod in unison, the gravity of what you’re about to get yourself into finally sinking in. Shortly after, Moriyama goes through a few more technical details before announcing that they have another meeting to attend, and just like that, and with a promise to get in touch soon albeit clandestinely, she and Asahi exit from the very door they entered what seemed like an eternity ago.

Leaving you and Bakugou.

Alone.

Which is something you’re going to have to get used to for what lies ahead.

But that shit can wait until tomorrow, when the mission officially starts.

And so with much vigor, you quickly gather the purse you barely managed to bring with you when you got dragged out of your apartment earlier this evening, and stand. Bakugou’s head tilts up to look at you when you turn to regard him, an eyebrow raised in question.

“What?”

You force a smile. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Bakugou-san.” Not. “See you tomorrow, then.”

And, before he can say anything in return, you spin on your heel and leave without looking back.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[shroomyv]

1st sunrise together

(not your last)

Remmick x female reader (one shot)

A/N: alr people…I haven’t written in months…finally tryna start writing again and stop trying to make story perfects and put out what I enjoy writing and not what I think evb else needs or wants from me. On that note thanks for 300+ followers wtf. Also uh this is my first sinners fanfic (def won’t be my last) so bear with me pls. Just a lil short thing for you guys. Once again, sorry if this was mid, took a small ass prompt and extended it sorry. Comments and reblogs are appreciated (I love talking to u guys sm)

Summary: you and Remmick have been around each other for a bit. Getting comfortable in ways you live, love and do things. Your guard is always up but his has begun to go down. What happens if one day you aren’t on a hunt with him cause he makes you stay home and does something different. “You’re just paranoid—that won’t happen.” Is what he tells you all the time. 9 times out of 10, you’re right.

WC: 2.6k

Warning: death, angst, lil cringe, fic moves rlly fast, little terrible world building moments, mentions of blood, mentions of religion (holy water, is that a mention?), mentions death, mentions of gunshots and guns.

It'd already been 3 years since his teeth seeped into your neck.

They drained your body of blood and brought you back to life—just with a few changes and tweaks to the way you were able to live out life now.

The man who bit you, your husband, Remmick. He stayed by your side just as he promised before you allowed him to bite you.

He cared for you just as you asked and needed, and you tried to return the favor whenever possible.

He made sure all your needs and wants were met as soon as he could make it happen.

If you were hungry, he’d make sure you’d get full. If you wanted to be held, he’d carry you. If you wanted to hear music or dance, he’d crack out that banjo and get to playing.

He made sure to keep you as happy and protected as he possibly could.

You two typically had a nightly ritual of going to get bodies to feast on to cure your hunger if you weren’t tending to each other's wounds from the night prior or relaxing after a passionate night.

Whenever you two went out hunting, you had a sort of ritual of burning down the houses once you were done with the bodies. You were a no-evidence kind of girl, he didn’t understand why, and thought he wasted time waiting for the sun to come up—you just couldn’t care and continued to burn whatever house you two raided.

You two had different ways about how you dealt with business. Whatever way you dealt with it, you knew it was always better when it was two of you dealing with it instead of one suffering with the issue alone.

Out of the two of you, one of you almost always got roughed up by the end of the night if a human was fighting back from you trying to bite them.

This night, it was you.

Remmick was pissed, livid actually. You don’t think you’d ever seen him take greater pleasure in killing someone, ever, once he finished killing whoever put a few bullets in you.

“You need to relax…” You said “yer getting worked up over nunin'’ you know I’m gon heal so just breathe and relax.”

You tried your best to calm him down—you hated when he was constantly worked up, especially over things you considered small. He didn’t consider you getting hurt a “small thing” to him; it was a big issue.

You grabbed onto his suspenders, pulling him back into the bed with you.

“It ain’t no small thing…sure you’ll be fine in a week but y’know how much I hate seeing you hurt.” He said, voice sounding all pissed but trying to relax it to not worry you.

he was still on the issue and you didn’t mind it as long as he stopped working himself up over it.

Your forehead pressed against his—you two sharing any warmth you possibly could to each other. His arms began wrapping around your back like a snake, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go.

You winced for a second as he got ready to let go, but you wrapped your arm around him so he wouldn’t try and move away.

“Remmick…stop worryin’.” You gave him a reassuring smile as he kissed your face softly.

“You can’t tell me to stop worryin’.” He said

“And why is that?”

“‘Cause ya do the exact same thing.”

“Hm…well, it’s ok when I do it.”

He just rolled his eyes at you—finding what you had to say was unfair but knew he could argue against it because he’d lose anyway.

You two were always worried back and forth, taking turns on who would be the one panicking for the night. It was mostly you so you had gotten used to it but whenever it was him you wanted him to relax and not press the issue.

Your head still pressed against his as you two took in each other and every feature. Your arms still wrapped around his body, and his still wrapped around yours…

A few moments of silence filled the air before Remmick finally spoke again.

“You gon eat tonight…you ain't touched nothin’ since we last went huntin’.”

He squeezed your hand—getting your full attention as this was his way of telling you he had to go out.

“Well, let me get on up.” You said.

Before you could get off the bed—he leaped up and stood in front of you.

“No darlin’.” He said, “you gon stay here and rest.”

“We don’t really need sleep….besides, I’ll be patched up in a day or two at most.” you said

You began to look him up and down—what he said was silly to you, and you didn’t agree to it at all. You tried to stand again, but this time he put his hands on your shoulder, keeping you down for a second.

“Remmick…”

“Please, jus’ stay here…I’ll be back, promise.” He said softly.

Your eyes and his met as he was giving that same little pleading stare that a puppy would give you when it did something wrong.

You just huffed—you were annoyed you couldn’t go with him, but if he wanted you to rest that badly and promised that he’d come back, you’d just stay put for the night.

“Fine, Remmy.” You said

You pulled him in by his suspenders, giving him a kiss. He quickly returned it as you let go of his suspenders and he leaned in closer pushing you down on the matress a bit more.

You broke the kiss to speak.

“Uh, Remmy, don’t you have food to be getting? You're on a time limit with that sun.” You said teasingly.

He just cleared his throat before pulling himself up.

“Right, yes.” He said, “When I get back though, I want more of whatever that was gon’ be.”

You just chuckled as you watched him leave out of the door into the night.

A few minutes had passed before you stood up to do some house chores—thought you might as well pass the boredom with some work.

You walked around the house as it felt a little lifeless without Remmick there—you knew he’d be back soon as promised, but you were just as impatient as he was.

While you were walking around, your eyes were jumping onto every object, seeing if anything needed cleaning or if it was out of order.

Your eyes finally came to the nightstand, and you saw nothing wrong at first glance till you looked back.

A box of matches, your box of matches was still there…

That same box of matches you used to get rid of any evidence whenever you two went out.

“Shit.” You murmured.

Your mind racing with worry as per usual about him. You told him you’d stay put, but you had a certain way of doing things, and you didn’t want to stray away from the usual.

You just swallowed down whatever worry you had in your throat. He could handle himself, he lived this long without you, he’d be fine.

hours had begun passing—you knew the sun was gonna be up sooner than later.

That worry you swallowed down began climbing right back up your throat. Pacing back and forth around the room like a madman, you had not a clue where he was.

You were ready to leave and try and find him yourself until a loud, frantic bang caused you to get up and dash to the door.

As soon as you opened it, you saw him.

Remmick—beaten up and bruised. A few gunshot wounds, blood all over his face and body, rips to his clothes, and nasty gashes and cuts on his face.

You knelt to where he sat, trying to pull him back up to his feet. You had nothing to say in the moment—your top priority was getting him to safety and patched up.

Remmick stood up with your help as you examined his face. He grabbed your hand tight, stopping you as he needed your full attention.

“We gotta go.” He said, “We gotta go right now, darlin’.”

You just nodded—you got ready to turn back into the house to grab a few things before you heard screaming and gunshots. People were out hunting and searching for you.

“Ain’t no time,” Remmick said as he grabbed you by the back of your dress.

You were dragged out by your back until he released it—you two dashed through the woods.

It was pretty rare for you two to be haunted when you were usually the ones doing the hunting. Sadly for you two, it was more of them and not enough time to fight back. You just needed to run and find shelter.

“Remmick, why ain’t you bring them damn matches.” You murmured but he heard every word.

“Thought I wasn’t gon need em, clearly it was a full house. I’m sorry, let’s just get out of this then you can yell at me later.” He said

His hand grabbed onto yours tightly, running through the woods with you, trying to find any safety. If you two weren’t on the brink of getting murdered—you’d consider it romantic.

Gunshots flying into trees as bullets miss you two. Water splashing as whoever was chasing you tried to fling holy water on you. You two just gave each other that soft-eyed look before you kept running.

He wanted to keep you safe—he promised to keep you safe.

Now he was falling short on his promises.

You didn’t care—as long as you were with him,, you considered yourself safe. You just kept running until you bumped into him and realized he came to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” You shouted.

You just looked up and saw the moon was going down. Sun was just coming up quicker and quicker.

“Remmick, we can find some place to go, cmon.” You said, “We just gotta go, cmon.”

He quickly pulled you to the side—you two now under a tree, trying to think of anything to get yourself out of the situation. You could deny it all you wanted, but there was nothing more that could be done in that moment.

“I didn’t take them matches—didn't do things the at we usually do it. Now I messed it up.” Remmick spoke in a wimpy sort of tone.

“Remmick, I’m not about to scold you for this.” You said, “atleast not right now. So relax we gotta get out of this ok?”

He was used to you scolding him for the small things, and any other time you would’ve, but now it was life or death. If it just so happened to be death, you weren’t about to spend your final moments scolding him. You just pressed your head against his hoping that time would freeze for you just for a second and it felt like it did.

You started to cry—he wanted to cry. He had broken his promise, he said he’d always keep you safe, always make sure you were protected.

The sun wasn’t slowing down for anyone, it was gonna come up eventually. The hunters drew closer, and little tears became flowing pools of water.

“I broke my promise—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He murmured.

He tried his best to calm you down while he was panicking himself. He began holding you tighter, but the sun began to shine through the leaves on the tree. You two didn’t have much longer. You were either gonna die by the sunlight burning you to ash, or die by the hands of hunters that weren’t finished off.

“Remmick.” You said in a stuffy tone

You swallowed down your tears as best as you could for a second to talk.

“I know you said you keep me safe, and you think you broke the promise.” You said, “If you wanna make it up to me, just keep one promise you made.”

You two began curling into each other tightly as he held onto you as best as he could. His skin took the majority of the burns from the sunlight as he tried his absolute best to protect you from the heat that was coming.

“And which one is that?” He asked

“Staying with me.” You said, “and I want you to stay with me…and watch the sun rise.”

His head lifted up,, and so did yours. His eyes were weak and questioning what you just said. He couldn’t believe this is what you were saying but he knew you two didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Cmon.” He said

He grabbed your hand, leading you out of the woods into the open sunlight. You two were met by a river—memories filling your mind of all the times you two went there at night. Your life with him was flashing before your eyes.

The hunters were here, and so was the sun. You drowned out their screams to catch you guys—you were so focused on him and the burning pain that flowed through your body that you couldn’t give two shits.

His hand stayed clasped onto yours—you two burning up quicker than you were before. Smoke coming from your body as if you were food being cooked and prepared.

You two finally reached the lake. Feet soaking in there as if the water was gonna save you but you knew it was over—your forehead just pressed his as you began to cry weakly, and he just held onto you tighter and tighter.

Memories flowing through your mind of the life you had with him.

That first time you met, the time he turned you every promise he made, every kiss you shared, every passionate night you two enjoyed, every meal shared, every life taken.

It all rushed through you faster than ever before.

You never expected it to be so short, you wanted it to be longer. Remmick spoiled you rotten—because you’d forgotten you can’t just get everything you wanted.

Tears and screams of agony still left your face as he held onto you tight—he held you tightly in that same warm embrace he always did. He tried to calm you down as best as he could, giving you comfort in whatever way he could in the moment. It only helped so much.

Both of you sizzling and burning alive by the second, smelling like rotting meat and flesh, getting ready to be thrown out. Your flesh melting to his at this point, you two were becoming one, except this time, it was physically.

Remmick kissed you softly on the forehead before speaking.

“I’ll meet you again—next life, we’ll try again. I’ll keep you as safe as I can, and I'll love you jus’ like I did in this life. Promise.”

You just looked at him, and the ash began to surround both of you. You were silent—taking in your final breaths as you knew your time on earth was over.

Hunters could’ve came in that water at any time and put a stake in your backs—they just stayed in the woods, watching what they caused all go down and finish.

You ignored them, eyes just stuck on Remmick and how his body was melting away right before you. Memories of how you would patch him up whenever he was like this flowing through your mind as you were silent.

You just felt weak, you couldn’t save him, and this time he couldn’t save you.

“You gotta respond, give me something,” he said, “Don’t let these last few seconds be silent. Speak to me, say whatever’s on your mind..”

He gave those same pleading eyes that he would always give to you when you were mad or he wanted you to reason with him.

His crumbling hand reaching towards you face to wipe off the tears as best as he could before you spoke again.

“I’m scared.” You said

“Me too.” He replied

For one second it was dead silent before you picked back up the conversation speaking again.

“Promise I’ll be patient, but you keep your word, Remmick.”

“I will,” he said, “I promise I will, darlin’.”

Foreheads pressed together one final time. He gave you a smile and you returned one until your lips met–whatever was left of them, at least. He began humming a soft tune painfully. He tried to hide any sadness he had in the moment from you, and you respected it.

He just hummed soft melodies that he would play or sing for you whenever you were home with him to comfort both of you as you were ready to leave this body.

You got to see a sunrise with him–and what made it even better was the fact you’d get to see more with him in the future.

The ash of both your bodies wisped away in the wind, but not a single spec of dust separated.

You’d be reunited soon.

You'd just have to be patient, like he asked.

Just like you promised.

[blue-arkhamknight]

Hi! I haven’t done this before, so I apologise if I’m doing something wrong, but I’m a sucker for those fics where one of the Batboys stumbles injured into your apartment and the reader helps them, then a bond is formed and they come back just randomly or when they are hurt, and I am wondering if you could do this prompt with Tim Drake or really any character you want!

Sorry if this is a bad request, and I hope you're having a good day :)

i took so damn long im so sorry

“Thank you…”

ps: its bad im sorry

Warning: Injuries.

—

“Shit.”

The boy wonder had said, breaking in a apartment, looking for aid on his torn shoulder.

Tim stared at the person who the apartment was owned by. You stared back equally, terrified of the random appearance of the man.

“Now- I know what this looks like! I swear I won’t do anything or hurt you!.. I would appreciate if you could lend me a hand here…”

He said quickly, the boy was trying to reassure you that he would not inflict pain as he held his own injured shoulder.

You never thought Red Robin would be on your apartment, but nevertheless, you hurried to your med kit to patch him up.

“Here.. sit down.”

You said, sitting down the vigilante in your couch which he was grateful for.

“I’m really, really sorry…”

Tim mumbled, he didn’t want to disturb but he really needed aid on his shoulder.

After stitching him up, the boy promised to not leave trace that he was ever at your home.

“I’m here to help if you ever get in trouble again.”

You said with a small laugh, which he followed after with a nod.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He said giving you a smile, a sweet one. The kind that you knew his eyes were wrinkling under the domino mask.

You waved as he jumped off the window and quickly closed it.

What. Had. Just. Happened.

A boy had suddenly come into your apartment and you had to patch him up?!

THE Red Robin?!

The shock was still there, you had hoped you acted nonchalant about the whole deal.

———

After that incident Tim kept coming back to your apartment to patch him up, even if it was for the simplest thing.

He had even stayed over some days.

He found you nice and even made you laugh. It meant you liked his dumb jokes. He found himself rambling to you one time and you had actually listened!

He was over the moon really. He could be himself even in the costume.

———

“Um- your-“

You were going to point out his mask was quite literally falling off his face as he entered your window, but before you could finish he let out a high pitch scream, putting the mask back on.

You were quick to laugh, holding your stomach as hw himself held his laughter after realizing his scream must have been ridiculous.

“So you’re Timothy Drake?”

You asked, now both of you were settled down and Tim without his mask.

“Tim, please, but yes.”

He had said, nodding his head with a smile. He was looking at you as you patched his arm up, but it was that sweet, almost loving look he had developed over the months of visiting you.

“Okay, Tim.”

You said, his name rolling off your tongue easily as he internally melted.

“Hey…”

Tim started, but the words died short on his throat as he got embarrassed.

“What?”

Your voice snapped him off his thoughts, looking back at you again.

“I-.. well…. I’m really thankful I met you.”

He said, his voice full of sincerity.

“I am too. Really. You’ve been great company.”

You had said back, smiling at him. Tim smiled back, his cheeks tinted the slightest as he hugged you, sighing when you wrapped your arms around him back, muttering a small:

“Thank you…”

—

sorry this is bad, its short and i changed my writing style due to laziness 😭

i didn’t have any idea on how to do this so its why its bad. also lazarus put is coming soon! (i hope 😞)

again, i apologize for the sloppy writing.

[epiphainie]

I love the headcanons about teen Buck having a crush on his teammate(s) and not really realizing it but if we could make it BuckTommy and imagine teen Buck having a crush on teen Tommy...

great ask because it gives me the chance to plug my two favorite things: this teen buck crushing on 20-smth year old tommy post i made haphazardly which my brilliant rosie @beefcakekinard is making a full fic out of and lemme tell you, from what i've read of it so far, it's just sooo good

second this absolutely flop post of mine about childhood friends to lovers One-Day-ish au that no one asked me to write but probably is the one au idea of mine i wanna write the most after prof tommy

i notice you said teen tommy in the ask and you know i don't actually push against the headcanons/aus i get in my inbox but this time i'm gonna correct you because we need to keep some sort of age difference here 😔

mwah 💛

[conclaveconfessions]

As a general I like this fandom a lot. I have my dislikes. I do agree sometimes they make Vincent too holy or too quick to drop his vows, but I'm also deeply sympathetic because well... the person that writes, oh let's say, 2.5k puppy play is indeed not looking for a very deep exploration of these characters.... And That's ok!

What I did when I was puzzled by this (the desire to read erotic content but without the rush) was sort by word count, and it really helped! There are gorgeous agonizing pining long fics in this fandom. Not that many gosh I Need More but there are. Everyone give them a try. I also do see a lot of effort to make the stories grounded, even if they might get a bit ooc, which other fandoms tend to not do... Or do way less, I mean.

I can't cope with Lawrenitez mpreg though. Firstly I don't think Vincent is able to get pregnant and even if he could, like. My mind is only screaming: They're post menopausic queens!!! No one is getting pregnant!!! Stop!! (Do whatever you want haha it's ok) I do however cackle and enjoy when I see "Vincent getting knocked up by the holy spirit" now THAT'S literature (lol). I guess the difference is that if it's by God magic, it's a full on miracle, if it's by a "natural" way it's really weird (to me). Just on account of their ages. I think it's not THAT popular of a trope here, I think most people like the fact they're old men but still-

The reason I mention it it's because I know I'm really a hypocrite. I was complaining about omegaverse with a friend. I do think making Vincent an omega sort of goes again the " uncertainty" that gives him his condition in canon (maybe make him both Alpha and Omega? A complete unknown fourth sex? Uterus and knot? I'm just brainstorming), it flattens the canon stuff. To me, omegaverse is a setting that enhances fictional sex differences because it's hot, but in this context, where the point is that those sex difference irl are maybe not as important as we think, I find it against the characters, and as such, not as hot (I liked one where Lawrence was a beta tho haha)

The reason why I'm a hypocrite though, is that I do sort of love it with Bellesco haha. There, the idea of the sex difference being embarrassing for him is super hot (oh, I'm bottom!Tedesco, Omega!Tedesco one hundred percent). So in that context, I like it. WE know there's nothing shameful in being a bottom or being the "lesser" sex but he doesn't. And that's hot.

Another reason why I'm a hypocrite is that I do love these old queens suddenly feeling all horny. Like, the idea of Lawrence, post prostate cancer already in his autumn years suddenly being absolutely gob smacked horny for Vincent and soo guilty about it that it cures his impotence... I like it. Ditto with Tedesco finally crashing down and admitting he's queer, haha. I have no issues with old men holding erections all night, unrealistic as it could be. I do respect the erectile dysfunction soldiers 🫡

At the end of the day, your tastes are very personal. It's ok if you don't like something that's going on in the fandom. It's normal! And it should encourage you to write your own stuff, or to shower with praise the people that are doing what you like, so they do more :^) and you can also talk about your dislikes as long as you are respectful.

I think speaking about your dislikes is equally important though, since it might let you to people that also dislike the same things you do and you can share "correct takes" with each other. This is a bit arrogant, to say it that way, but let's face it, that's how it feels. And it's no crime either. Saying: ok whatever but THIS is better/hotter, I'll write it- it's like. Half of why fandom exists. Have fun :^)

I don't think I'll write anything myself anytime soon because I'm well fed by the current works, but who knows. My rudimentary English doesn't hold a candle to the poets of this fandom tho <\3

~

[themeraldee]

I think Homelander would love someone who gets jealous. Not 'i need space to calm down for a bit' jealous but 'i'm gonna either be super clingy or fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night' type of jealous. Because his SO doesn't kill people even if they're chill with it.

But imagine them having a jealous streak and Homelander finding it out because after a while he connects the dots of people flirting with him or Vought pushing a relationships for media purposes to the times his SO is suddenly VERY clingy or is pouncing on him

yes yes YES!! My man's ego is gonna be through the roof. As if it already wasn't. But if it's the kinda jealousy that makes his SO clingy he is SOO gonna indulge in that anytime there's a chance (upon finding out about this in the first place).

With all his previous relationships not caring about him to that degree to finally have someone who literally FIGHTS for his attention? He's smug as hell. Teasing you about it when he figures it out.

"Don't tell me you're jealous." He's biting back a grin, instead cocking his eyebrow.

"How could I not be! She was all over you!"

"It's her job. Madelyn wants her to be my public girlfriend." He keeps riling you up. Especially mentioning the new superhero meaning to act as his new 'girlfriend'.

"Well maybe you should tell Madelyn that it's not happening." You walk him to the couch and he lets you push him down on it. Immediately straddling him. "You..." You start off with fire in your eyes. "Are in a happy committed relationship. It's not fair that I have to see you with other people." You're close enough to nuzzle into his warmth, your face stuffed in between his neck and his collar, inhaling that intoxicating scent of his.

"Mhm you're right it's totally not fair." You feel the rumble of his voice in his throat.

"Stop taking this lightly!" You're already peppering kisses across his neck. Your hips having a mind of their own are already grinding down against him.

You have this intrinsic need to make him smell like you, to touch him and kiss him everywhere you can. If you can't be out there in public with him you'll make sure that he remembers your fingers and lips all over him. Not a part of him that's been untouched by you.

"I'm not. I just love when you get like this." He finally lets himself grin at the needy way you're pushing yourself against him and he couldn't be happier that you want him this bad.

He needs to make you jealous more often.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

if Crozier had a nickel for every time someone close to him kept a mortal wound secret from him he'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's definitely enough to give him some very specific trauma for the rest of his life

[silversinfinity]

Cabin Fever

*this is a fetish blog- non-fet blogs and minors DNI (no age in bio -> blocked)*

Fandom: L/ove and D/eepspace Spoilers: None Pairing/AU: Z/ayne X f!Reader, normal universe Length: 5.4k

Contains: sneeze fetish content (duh), sickfic, fevers, caretaking, that trope where a character’s powers act up because they’re sick, reader insert

Summary: L/ove and D/eepspace's "Winter's Emissaries" summer event, wherein everything is the same, except I made it better gave Z/ayne a cold.

Notes: Backstory time! This game had an event last summer that included four different virtual roleplaying games to complete (one for each guy). In the one featuring Z/ayne, you play as “Winter’s Emissaries” searching for treasure to save a village. While playing through these, you also receive special social media interactions, one of them being this one from Z/ayne. I think my inspiration should speak for itself… 🥴

I wanted this to feel like it could seamlessly fit into the original canon plot, so a few lines of dialogue and description were adapted directly from the game. There's also gonna be casual mentions of things which might go over your head if you haven't played, but it shouldn't ruin the fic reading experience!

Okay, enough yapping. Enjoy 🫶

Fic Masterlist

Your reflection was barely visible in the glass as you stared out the window. Snow swirled in a gray and white cacophony, past the glass pane and all across the region as far as you could see. The conditions seemed more treacherous now that you had escaped them, free to observe rather than experience it. 

You'd experienced it enough today, anyways. Your face still stung of whipping, icy winds, and your hair dripped as clumps of ice and snow melted off your head. Every part of you felt chilled- your fingers, your toes, hell, your very soul. This little cabin was truly the desert oasis of the frigid mountain forests. There was no way either of you could've survived a night out there. 

To your right and behind you, a stunted rush of flames brought the fireplace to life. Your hand curled over your chest, relieved. There was never a situation where you weren't grateful to have Zayne around, but this one especially so. His simple presence was enough to flip an unfortunate situation into a favorable one, or at the very least, an okay one. This would be okay.

Another bundle of snowflakes rushed past the window as a new gust of wind took to the air with violence. You leaned into the knotted pine of the window sill and walls, pressing one ear to the glass.

Your brow furrowed. Only the crackling of the fireplace registered to your senses. Not even a muffled echo of the blizzard’s roar could be detected through the glass. Was the soundproofing of this cabin really that thorough?

Zayne’s hand on your shoulder shook the question out of your mind. “You shouldn't stand so close to the glass. A blizzard can break the window.” His voice was calm. “Come sit by the fireplace. It'll warm you up.”

You stood back from the glass, and one of Zayne’s hands caressed your cheek, palm hot against the chapped skin of your face. You found him in a similar state, skin flushed and wind-broken around and across his nose.

Zayne led you to the fireplace with a hand to your back. Heat instantly washed over you, and you tugged off the heavy coat that still clung to your shoulders. 

“You say I need to warm up, but you're the one who gave up your coat,” you said, hanging it on the hook off to the side of the hearth. He'd insisted you take it, once you realized the hard way that your own coat was highly insufficient for the weather.

“You're right. Come sit.” Zayne had seated himself in a wicker chair a few feet back from the fire’s glow. You paused to consider whether there was enough room to join him. If you were expected to fit next to him, you’d practically need to be sitting in his lap.

…Not that you minded. You never minded that.

As anticipated, you found yourself crunching your knees up to settle yourself next to him. You were squished against him, legs to legs, warm body to warm body.

It occurred to you, though, that there was plenty of sitting space throughout the cabin suitable for two people, much unlike the chair you had just forced your way into. You looked at Zayne and smirked. “I get it. You're using the fireplace as an excuse to cuddle, aren't you?” 

Zayne tilted his head and met your gaze. His lip curled so subtly you had to squint to see it: “Well, if you knew that was my goal, why did you still join me?” 

You nearly got lost in his eyes, aglow with a sunset orange reflection of the flames. “Because… I may or may not have the same goal,” you finally admitted, nestling the rest of your body to Zayne’s. Your head settled perfectly against his chest, like a puzzle piece to its match.

“I'm honored to be your personal heater after serving as your navigator.” 

A comfortable silence followed Zayne’s words. Your attention honed in on the crackling of the fireplace, the flames within wiggling their unsteady dance and casting a faint, smoky scent into the air. You inhaled deeper, chasing the nostalgic memories of summer bonfires lingering behind. The air was dry, but warm enough now that you didn’t feel moisture chasing every breath in through your nose. But the same couldn’t be said yet for Zayne, based on the still frequent sniffling above you. It really was dreadful out there…

The whole reason for your journey here slowly crept back into your mind. Today the blizzard would keep you both within the safety and warmth of this cabin, but you knew there was still a long journey in the cold ahead of you. As Winters Emissaries, it was your duty to complete the task given to you. The whole of a village was counting on it. 

As to what it was though, you still weren't completely sure.

“Hey… do you think the treasure the villagers mentioned is something like this?” 

You felt Zayne move above you at the sudden sound of your voice. He pondered your question. “A treasure that brings warmth in winter… the concept is similar enough,” he eventually said. 

“But visiting the palace just to get firewood for them would be pointless. They could just go into the forest themselves, couldn't they?”

“Perhaps the treasure is a self-heating energy stone. Winters Emissaries are like torchbearers. They've been entrusted with the responsibility of bringing energy to the village.”

An image of yourself and Zayne wearing special ceremonial attire during an Olympic opening ceremony, sacred torch and all, flashed in your mind. It was far more flashy and loud than your actual reality, traveling alone together in the winter wilderness of the mountains as the elements assaulted you. “Zayne, your imagination got a little wild there,” you giggled. 

“Oh? Then what sort of fantasy would you prefer to listen to?” Zayne sniffled again. Outside, the world had begun to turn dark.

“Something real, maybe.” Your eyes searched the space above the fireplace, as if the answer would appear there for you. “Hmm… talk about your childhood memories. When we were kids, wasn't there a time a snowstorm trapped you at my house?”

Long was the history between the two of you. You spent your childhood together, grew up together, and now Zayne was a unique combo of your primary doctor, lover,  and a formidable fighter you could rely on in any Wanderer encounter. 

So, you were a little hopeful Zayne would still remember your early days, after everything you'd been through. 

Zayne’s hand fidgeted at the small of your back. “...I remember that,” he finally began. “My parents and I went to your place for dinner. And then it suddenly started snowing. It was getting late, and we tried to head home but the car wouldn't start. We had no choice but to spend the night there.” Zayne paused, swallowed, and cleared his throat. His voice was noticeably rougher when he spoke again though, as if he hadn't cleared anything at all, “But you had already returned to your room. We had barely talked that day…”

There was a tremble you noticed in his voice too, as though the memories themselves manifested within the language he spoke. He wasn't always the most straight forward with his sentimentality of your shared youth, but there were always signs he cherished them the same way you did.

Yet you always felt strange, separated from yourself whenever you reflected on it, everything being the same and yet so different from what you had with him today. As children, could Zayne and I have ever imagined ourselves nestled by the fireplace one day, enjoying idle conversation?

“Maybe it's because I went to bed too early that day. If only I had known…”

You waited for Zayne to respond, or continue, but it never came. His breathing steadied and slowed above you, and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

His eyes were closed, long, dark lashes completely still. No surprise sleep took him so quickly; for as often as he would lecture you about getting enough sleep, you knew his line of work didn't allow him to rest as well as he'd like. He was known for taking any time he could between surgeries to nap. This quiet time in a cabin was the perfect environment for Zayne to take advantage of.

You were careful not to disturb him as you settled your head back where it was most comfortable. The warmth you shared between your bodies had only grown, stealing away any drive you had left to stay awake. The fireplace became a blur as your eyelids drooped.

Against your ear though, you were still awake enough to notice the slight wheeze in his breathing. And from his nose, the tiniest whistle when he exhaled. Both were not typical for him, in all the times you had rested together.

Mentally, you winced, remembering the pity taken on your poor choice of winter wear once the blizzard hit. Zayne assured you he still had enough layers on, and initially you believed him. 

Now though, you realized he would've told you that anyways. Of course he would've; he was prone to worrying more about you than himself. 

You wondered if this wasn't normal tired for him, but sick tired. Had he been hiding it from you? Or was it too early for him to even realize?

You were only barely awake yourself anymore, unable to think clearly. “Zayne?” you murmured, quiet, still hesitant to wake him. You heard nothing back, and then you heard nothing at all, as sleep stole you away too. 

—

You woke up suddenly, somewhere soft, warm. Pillow under your head, and layers of blankets draped over you. Sluggishly, you picked up your head. The grey light of morning seeped through the windows, pale and too early to be awake. You squinted to make out flecks of snow billowing past the window, just as energetically as the day previous. 

This wasn't where you had fallen asleep. So how did you…? 

Oh, right.

Somewhere in the night, you vaguely remembered being lifted and held to Zayne’s chest before he settled you somewhere else- it was in this bed, you now knew. You stretched and whined beneath the blankets before rolling over. Next to you, the comforter was pulled back and the fitted sheet wrinkled, implying Zayne had slept there next to you. The bed suddenly felt cold.

As you sat up, you frowned. Something had woken you, but what? It was quiet in the cabin. “Zayne…?” you called out groggily.

“heh’tSCHh-!”

Oh.

“hegH’SCHUhh-!”

Sneezing. Zayne sneezing, to be exact. Muffled and echoey beyond the half wall immediately behind you, you concluded he was too far away to have heard you, in another room of the cabin. 

You heard him sneeze again, after a longer delay. You internally winced as you had the night before. For all the time you'd known Zayne, you'd never heard such frequent disruptions, except for when an outside factor- such as illness- was actively aggravating him.

The urge to investigate dragged you out of bed. Your ears pointed you towards the bathroom across the way. As you got closer though, you stopped. The sound of rushing water could be heard, loud and clear with the door of the bathroom wide open. Your approach to the door was a little more hesitant- was he showering this early in the morning?

Beyond the steam cloaking the room, you found Zayne not in the shower, but hovering just to the side of the sink. His hair was slightly disheveled from its usual neatness, and damp, implying he'd been standing in there for some time. Even from where you stood in the doorway, his body language read of discomfort.

Though you stepped lightly, your bare feet weren't quiet enough to avoid alerting him. Zayne turned to look your way. His posture instantly straightened, but it didn't hold, wavering in tune with his breath. 

“Y-Y/N, hih…! hH’gnx’SCHhh-!” He notably pressed into his wrist, cutting the volume. That wrist flipped, and his fingers clamped over his nose, pinching tightly over the bridge in a fashion you'd seen before, when he was either annoyed or- “heh-NGTt-uh!” -suppressing a sneeze. 

“Bless you… thanks for the wake up call.” You couldn't help yourself from teasing him.

“Did I wake you?” He paused to sniffle, thick, unproductive. “I tried to be quiet getting out of bed, but I suppose that didn't last…” Zayne’s voice cracked and he coughed, hoarse. 

Concerned, you stepped into the bathroom, closing the space between you. “What's with the shower?” you said. 

“Clearing out my sinuses. You can turn it off.” The steam in the room was pleasantly warm, but the humidity was a little much, you thought. You shut the water off.

“Did it help?” you asked. 

“Well, it made me sneeze through the worst of it.” With the water off, you can hear congestion in his voice more clearly, and you shuddered to think this was an improvement from when he'd first awoke. His illness had set in, and it had done so quicker than you thought possible. Zayne took one step back from the counter, touching one temple and wincing. You saw him sway.

Your brow furrowed. One of your hands drew up to his forehead before Zayne had the chance to stop you. Your fingers brushed his bangs aside with a gentle sweep, and the pads of your fingers ghosted heat, searing his skin deeper than any steam could create on the surface. 

“You have a fever…” Zayne swatted you away, but you grabbed at his wrist in rebellion. Instantly, you gasped and froze in place. Under your palm and fingers was an icy cold, etched across his skin and leaving purple welts in his wake- it could only have originated from his abilities. “Your Evol, why…?”

In one quick move, Zayne shook his head at you, tugged his freezing wrist from your grasp, and twisted away with a wrenching sneeze. 

“hegH’NSCHhih-! Hh…” The exhale carried exhaustion. You allowed him the space to recover but refused him another inch beyond that. As you examined him closer, you realized that white, crackling frost glazed not just his wrist, but his neck too. 

“Are you…okay? Why is your Evol doing that?” you asked.

But Zayne couldn’t seem to catch a break. “I'm f-fine…hih…!” His denial was drowned out in a shuddering hitch of breath. He managed to retrieve a bunched up wash cloth from the counter, just in time to jam it under his nose before he-

“hih’MPFSChh-!”

Punctual.

“Bless you,” you said, wincing. “Uh, you were saying? About being fine?”

He was even slower to recover, as though the very last of his energy had seeped out through his sinuses, dampening the already soiled cloth in his hand. “I'm not denying that. Obviously I'm not well.” Zayne slid past you to leave the bathroom, and you followed nervously behind him to where he dropped down on the couch. He barely seemed to be present, tilting his head back, eyes closed. The dark shadows under his eyes told you he hadn’t slept much. “I just meant… the ice. I'm fine, this always happens when I'm unwell.” 

From where you sat next to him, you took the chance to touch his forehead again, and Zayne didn't protest this time. It was worse than you initially thought. “You're really hot, Zayne…”

One eye opened. “Flirting with me while I'm sick?”

“Hey, you know what I mean…” You smiled and felt at ease- at least he wasn't so ill that mirth failed him. 

It couldn't cure all your worries, though. Your touch trailed down his cheek, to his jawline, and then his neck. It was there that the temperature under your fingers went shockingly cold, as though he'd just been outside in the winter elements without a scarf. Zayne’s brow knitted at your touch, and he shivered. 

“You're freezing,” you commented. It wasn't a question, but Zayne nodded anyway. “Let me warm you up, then.” This too, wasn't a question of permission, but rather a warning that you would try regardless.

Again though, Zayne nodded. Even a doctor as work-driven as he was knew when it was time for someone else to do the caring.

You looked first to the fireplace across from the couch, in front of the chair where you had both dozed off last night. The flames weren't flames but small, smoldering ashes- certainly of no substance to subdue a fever and keep the chill of winter out. 

You tossed another couple logs on and allowed a moment for the fire to catch.

Then, back on the couch, you adjusted your knees under you. “Here, let me squeeze in.” You sidled close to Zayne’s spot on the sectional. He hesitantly straightened his legs, allowing you space between him and the back cushion of the couch.

“It'll get nice and warm here soon,” you assured. Zayne hummed, glassy, hazel eyes fixed to the ceiling above. Your attention drew back to his Evol, still vicious and frosty at his wrists and throat. The warmth of the fire couldn't sedate this- this cold came from within, and the longer you lingered on it, the more uncomfortable it looked. You feared self-inflicted frostbite was in his near future.

“Do you think you might be overdoing it? Your Evol, I mean.”

“It's…” Zayne paused, shivering violently as though simply acknowledging the sensation made it worse. You swore you saw vapor as he exhaled, as if the air of winter itself were contained around his head in a bubble. “It's against my will, mostly…”

His discomfort was nearly palpable to you as you realized this was completely out of his control. This was the same cold extreme enough for Zayne to use in combat, after all, and now it was acting of its own accord, attacking him. 

“Think of it as a flight or fight response,” Zayne went on. “My temperature is up, therefore my body is responding by trying to cool down.”

“It's just too much, isn't it?” you said, finishing his thought for him. Zayne nodded, casting his gaze towards you. He'd never looked so openly vulnerable underneath you, except in distant memories, and you felt your heart soften despite the circumstances. 

You laid your weight heavier into him, shuffling so that one leg intertwined between his own. He caught your eye when he moved his hands out of your way. 

Maybe… if you resonated with him…?

You reached for one hand. “Here, let me just…”

Zayne shrunk away though, tucking his arms to his sides. “No, you shouldn't…touch me when I'm like this. Not on my skin.” Worry, genuine worry flickered in his eyes, and you felt that soft glow in your chest trip and falter.

“Zayne…” Your hands remained hovered at his wrist. Begging him with your eyes. He tensed, but he didn't stop you from closing your touch over his wrist. His skin was frigid, burning against your warmer palms, but only that. “You won't hurt me. I promise.”

You seemed to get through to him, and Zayne found it in himself to relax, finally. Your squeeze over his wrist was firm, but gentle, wringing your grip back and forth. You slowed your breathing and sought his Evol’s frequency, and it met you with a chaotic and unusual rhythm. A warm light glowed from your palms. In a matter of seconds, his skin took the warmth of yours.

“Better?” You asked. 

Zayne nodded, brow raised just slightly as though he didn't expect this outcome. You weren't sure you had expected it to work either. Discomfort crept back into his features, and he breathed through clenched teeth- you healed his other wrist with more urgency.

Briefly, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You couldn't deny that you found it all alarming, try as Zayne might to act casual about the whole thing. The nature of Evol was different person to person, but was it really okay for it to attack its user? Even under circumstances of illness? What if there was more to this?

…No, no. You had to shake this out of your head, stick to the task at hand. Interrogating him in the midst of being miserable wasn't good for either of you.

You forced the frown out of your expression, before Zayne could read it and interrogate you instead. “Your hands look better,” you said. “Is it just your shoulders now?”

“Yes. I think.”

“Get comfortable, then.” Both having lost their icy touch, he tucked his hands under you, and you properly draped yourself over him like a weighted blanket. Zayne tilted his head up to accept your arms wrapping over the back of his freezing neck.

You suppressed a shiver of your own as you nuzzled your cheek into the crook of one shoulder, the cold seeping into you through his shirt. Then, you remained still, focusing to match the frequency of his powers again, further resonating. Any remaining anxiety drained out of you. Maybe you couldn't cure his cold completely, but a small win was still a win in the war against misery.

Zayne sighed above you in relief. ”hh…hih…!” And then in urgency. He fidgeted under you, prompting you to lift your head.

You were greeted with the sight of a man most definitely about to sneeze.

And it had you a little mesmerized, to say the least- the stoic type, you rarely ever witnessed his face so obviously contorted. Somehow, Zayne always maintained a calm and collected demeanor, even when he was feeling anything but. This expression he currently wore though, was scrunched up, needy. His brow pinched together, eyelids taught. And the pink rims of his nostrils ticklishly flared, lip curled back into a snarl.

“Y-Y/N, my…hands…!” His breathy voice barely hung above a whisper.

You didn't get the memo- at least not fast enough. His hands remained trapped under you, and with nowhere else to hide, Zayne twisted toward the couch cushion, squelching the sneeze into submission by willpower alone.

Willpower didn't carry him very far, however. “hH’NXTt’shih-!” The burst of moisture that broke through was audible. Zayne’s chest swelled under you to gear up for a second one, and you braced a little tighter around his neck- “hegH’SCHUhh-!” The force his sneezes wrought nearly folded him at the waist, even with your full weight on top of him.

Zayne stilled after that. You were more timid as you looked back up to him. “Bless you. You shouldn't fight it like that…” you said softly.

“You shouldn't keep my hands trapped, then,” Zayne shot back.

You shrugged, although you did shift your hips up to free one of his arms. Zayne took to knuckling under his nose, before carefully dabbing at any excess dampness with the edge of his sleeve. 

“Really though, don't worry about politeness,” you went on. Your expression turned downcast. “You're sick because of me, after all.”

Several seconds passed as Zayne processed your words. Then, he gave you a look, the one he always had when you said something silly.  “You know people don't get sick just from being out in the cold, right?” 

“Says who?”

“Y/N, I'm a doctor. Your doctor,” Zayne deadpanned. 

You couldn't hide your grin. “Okay, but consider this: I saw it happen in a movie. A lot of movies, actually.”

Zayne shook his head. A yawn crept into his voice, and his eyes closed. “Right. Next time I need continuing education credits, I'll just watch some movies instead.”

“You better invite me over for a movie date night then!”

“But of course.” You held him a little tighter. The corner of Zayne’s mouth tugged into a smile. “Y/N… you really never grew up,” he said. 

“Oh?” You tilted your head at him. 

“You're just as unserious as you were when we were young,” Zayne went on. “More than when we were young, actually.”

To that, you stuck your tongue out. “Coming from the most serious guy I know? You should try it sometime.” 

Zayne opened his eyes, and there was That Look again, the Y/N-Said-Something-Ridiculous Look. For a moment, it even seemed like the feverish haze had left his eyes. But it only lasted a second, and the sorry state of him continued to be evident.

Your eyes shifted down to his throat. The skin looked healthy now, as though it had never been coated in a deadly ice. “So is this whole, uh, Evol thing gone now?” you asked awkwardly.

“For now. I imagine it’ll stay away now, so long as you're here.” 

A complicated knot of feelings sat in your chest, out of nowhere. For all the times Zayne had gone out of his way to protect you, save you, cure you, rarely could you return the favor. And it was a regular experience- you were good at getting yourself into trouble, after all.

But now, here you were, in a position where he needed you. 

“Good,” was all you could muster in response. 

Your hands snaked out from behind his head where they found his face. Cupping his cheeks, your fingers brushed over all the contours you now knew deeply, intimately. You let your eyes drift thoughtfully over his lips, threatening your resolve. 

Clearly you had grown up in some way- the idea of kissing Zayne would've been strange and wrong in your youth, but now you found yourself fighting with your better judgment not to. You could already hear him quietly scold you for kissing him while he was sick.

Only then did you realize Zayne was looking at you. You found yourself instantly shy under his scrutiny- for all the times you had kissed him, gone on dates, fully gave yourself to him, he still managed to make you nervous. 

Just as the tension of your eye contact threatened to become too heavy, Zayne sighed and melted a little deeper into the couch. You shook yourself back into a caretaker mindset. 

“Are you warm enough?” Zayne hummed his confirmation. “Okay… can I get you anything? Fever reducers, maybe?”

You sat up, preparing to get up from the couch, but Zayne’s hands held your waist firmly. “I already took some. Why don't you just rest here with me?” His words caught and he coughed into his shoulder.  

Zayne’s voice was growing ragged, even for how softly he spoke. You made a mental note to raid the cabinets for tea later, whenever he was ready to accept it. 

For now though, resting with him would be an easy task. The light filtering through the snow plastered windows was still too dim and early for your liking. And with the most concerning of Zayne’s symptoms relieved, you were content to relax a little. Your breathing synced with the slowed pace of his, calm.

For all the symptoms that had been relieved though, there was always another waiting to rear its head and break the moment.

Zayne suddenly stirred under you. He stiffly exhaled. “Actually, Y/N…” Zayne sniffled, and then sniffled again, sharply squeaking within his swollen sinuses. “Maybe…you should, hih…!”  You sat up in time to see the twinge in his expression take hold, uncertain, a will-he or won't-he battle. The fluttering of his eyes and twitch of his nares tells you he definitely will, though Zayne seemed intent on holding back. The rest of his words tumbled out in a rush, “...should get me some tih-! tissues, hH-!”

His arm tensed over your back, and he swung up with the intent to cover above you. You moved quicker though, tucking his face against your shoulder. Another gasp shook him beneath you, fluttering against your skin. You only held him tighter.

“heH’MFSCHHeh-!” Throaty and violent, the sound was squashed into your shirt. It was a warm and damp rush in the fabric, and Zayne jostled you as his nose betrayed him a second time. “hH-! ‘ESCHh’uh-!”

Several peaceful seconds came and went. You propped yourself up and met his gaze sheepishly, exposing the damp spot that now soiled your shirt. Zayne’s face was hard to read, but his ears were noticeably pink. “You know, when people ask for tissues, they don’t usually mean someone else’s shirt,” he mumbled.

“I- wasn’t thinking, I guess…” you said. One hand lazily traced along the curved top of his ear. “You don't need to be so embarrassed.”

“I have a fever, remember?” Zayne retorted, so casually that you almost couldn’t detect it as an excuse- almost. He sniffled again, wet and productive. “Listen, I could still really use those tissues… unless you’re expecting me to use your shirt for that too.” His eyes shifted away from you.

The heat on his face seemed to possess your own cheeks, as it occurred to you just how compromised he was under you. Completely at your will, or at least as completely as he would allow, and so far it seemed to be a lot. Your mind threatened to drift to places far from innocent. 

“No, not unless you- asked to, I mean…! N-not at all.” Your words tripped over themselves as your tongue knotted itself with your inner desires. You shimmied back to the other end of the couch, part in preparation to get up, but mostly to hide yourself from Zayne’s intelligent gaze. He could always read right through you.

You managed to pull yourself together while fetching a tissue box from the bathroom. And a glass of water- you were sure he needed it.

You stopped in your tracks exiting the bathroom. Zayne still laid on the couch, eyes closed, somehow serene despite  being in the throes of a bad cold. 

Cute.

He stirred once you approached close enough to be heard. “Here,” you said, passing the box of tissues to him.

“A whole box? How generous,” he playfully remarked. Zayne plucked a tissue from the box, and then another. You looked down at the glass of water still in your hands, for whatever shred of privacy it would offer him as he loudly blew his nose. Soiled, he tossed the tissues into the wastebasket nearby. At this rate, and with the way that had sounded, you had a feeling that the bin would be full of them by the end of the day.

“Thanks,” Zayne said in a thick voice as he took the water from you next. He made quick work of it, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for thinking of his needs before he had even voiced them. 

You checked that the fireplace was still lively, and then you turned back to Zayne where you stood before him.

“Can I get you something else?”

Zayne looked at you with warm eyes. “I don't know… I’d just really like my blanket back.” You frowned, only to falter when Zayne winked at you. Duh.

You needed no other prompting to crawl back into your original position, settling yourself over Zayne like a large lap cat, or a blanket, as he had put it. A new sense of ease washed over the two of you. 

You turned your head where it was more comfortable on its side. Snow still billowed past outside, and you found yourself reflecting again on why you were both here. Although there would be much to do later today, or more likely tomorrow, when the snow had slowed, you could both have this moment. You didn't get to lay and nap together at home nearly as often as either of you liked, but right now, you were free to indulge in it. 

You had each other's comfort. And you had each other's warmth.

“Ya know, maybe what you said yesterday was right,” you suddenly spoke.

“Hm?” Zayne opened one eye, brow raised.

“About the treasure being something warm within winter, or however you put it.” Your limbs twitched, and you curled a little tighter into Zayne. “Maybe it's cheesy, but I feel like we have our own little treasure here, ya know?”

Zayne exhaled a laugh, but it was genuine. “Perhaps you're right.” He closed his eyes, and through a yawn, “We had to find our own little treasure before we could find one for the whole village.”

“Exactly.” You smiled, closing your own eyes. Your ears zoned in on the cracking and popping of the fireplace, coupled with Zayne’s soft breathing. 

Flashbacks of the cozy night prior crept into your mind. “Can you tell me the rest of that story from last night?” Your words were slurred by almost-sleep. Zayne only responded with a soft snore. 

Ah well, you thought. Another day, then; this treasure was treasure enough.