#also grabbing you and pushing you into a cold shower washing you while you cool down and running the cold water over you until you shiver

[peppermintmochafem]

hiii miss you! lotsa sweaty butch manual labor this summer… if only someone could help me get nice and clean -🥝

aww you must be so hot and sore 🥺 I think if i put you in a bath all your thoughts aches would just wash away <3

[dtfpeta]

Feverish | Ghost x Fem Reader

Tags: sick!simon, sub!simon, dry humping, p in v sex, penetration

Summary: Simon is sick and thinks he knows how to break a fever with the help of his girlfriend

Word count: 1.4k

Read here on ao3! __________

He only had a small cold. Or at least, what was a small cold. And of course he acted like a helpless animal, asking you to feed him, bring him an assortment of medicines, and help him walk to the bathroom where he would then, ask you to bathe him. A cheeky smile that he hardly tried to hide displaying on his face.

You of course, didn’t mind caring for your afflicted boyfriend.

“You can’t take another Benadryl, Simon. You just had one.” Simon always prided himself on his flawless immune system. Now that his body has been compromised by harmful bacteria he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. But thank god he had you. For the past two days all he could do was mumble and groan from the couch. Exasperated “ehhgg’s” and whines of sickness filling the living room as the over 6 foot man struggled to lift his arms, begging for your help with the remote.

That’s why it surprised you to feel the searing warmth of his arms wrap around your waist as you stood in the kitchen. Your working hands coming to a stop on the meal you were preparing.

“Si- You’ve already contaminated our living room! I’ll be damned if I’m next…” You argued while attempting to shrug out of his grasp, finding your efforts ineffective. Over the past couple days you had made a valiant effort to sanitize the house and frequently wash your hands. You know Simon would take care of you if you fell sick, but you also knew that the idea of wallowing in the two of yous illness together was appealing to him as well.

“Mm, needa break this fever-” He murmured while burying his face into the crook of your neck. Laying hot kisses in his wake.

“Then let me make you a cup of tea. Or go take a warm shower don’t-!” His hands began to roam your body. Grasping at the skin of your stomach before moving to knead at your chest.

“Not what I had in mind” His words came out breathless. Whether that was because of his aroused state, his clogged sinuses, or both, you weren’t sure. But the needy grips his calloused hands laid on your body began to have an effect on you.

“You can go a few days can’t you?” Simon responded with an unconcerned hum, a low groan soon leaving the back of his throat as he grabbed your hips. Grinding his half hard erection against the flesh of your ass.

“You’ve been so good t’me. Can you help me some more?” His fingers dug deeper into your flesh, rutting the length of his bulge languidly against your backside. “Please.” He whined.

His hand came up to your neck, his index and thumb taking your chin and turning your face to meet his. It was too late to save yourself when his lips met yours, his tongue greedily working the wet room of your mouth as his hands massaged your breasts.

You sighed into the kiss, accepting the hunger that overtook you as well as the heat that gathered between your thighs. You soon gasped into Simon’s embrace as he was now turning you to face him, one hand resting on the back of your thigh as the other moved behind you. Haphazardly pushing the cutting board to the side so he could swiftly lift to place you on top of the counter. The cold stone of the counter caused you to arch your back as you pushed your chest into Simon, who now hurried to remove your top and bra. Exposing your hard nipples to the cold of the air that had previously worked to cool Simon’s fever, which only proved to be a futile attempt as the crimson on his cheeks only grew.

Simon pulled your waist so his erection could meet your clothed core. His eyes hung low with a fevered lust as you moved your hips to work against him. The both of you moaning as Simon hung his head forward between your chest, releasing sinful whimpers as he urgently rutted into you.

“Need ya’. Now” He demanded. Your brain began to cloud with its own brand of Simon induced fog. He was so desperate that you only wanted to provide for him.

Your boyfriend hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts pulling them down alongside your damp underwear to your ankles. Kicking them to the floor as he lowered his boxers and sweatpants, Simon revealed his hard cock, the tip smeared with a bead of pre-cum that you reached to run your fingers against.

He shuddered at the sudden attention from your delicate touch. His body was practically on fire. Having to separate himself from you only caused him to become pent up, needy for any attention that you would provide his weeping cock. Your hand wrapped around his length as you stroked him with expertise. Heavy breaths flooded the room. He placed his hands on the edge of the counter to steady himself as you worked his shaft. Your left hand came to cradle the side of his face. ‘Poor thing’

You twisted your hand around him, your thumb swirling the sensitive skin of his head as you whispered in his ear. “Is this helping you hun?”

His head nodded fiercely against your neck. “Mmm Mhm, thank you-” His delicious whines filled your ears as he began to lightly shake. Your own sex was becoming neglected when your left hand lifted his face so his eyes could meet yours.

“Can I fuck you,” he near but begged. “I can take care of you too.” His lips connected with yours for a passionate kiss. Butterflies spread in the pit of your stomach at his adoration for you. It wasn’t often he got like this but when he did you happily let him succumb to his urges. He parted his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connecting to your now glossy lips, and Simon still pumping himself into your hand. “Make you feel good.” He enticed.

You nodded your head when he took the head of his cock to swipe between your folds. Circling the slickened tip around your swollen clit and dragging it back in between your folds. His hands came to rest softly against your lower waist, thumbs digging into the crest between your thighs and torso. He began to push his length into your hot walls, his eyes closing to keep him from cumming right then and there.

“F-fuck” He sputtered pushing himself deeper into your core.

“Simon, please” Your legs lifted to wrap your calfs around his back. Your heels now digging into his ass to encourage his strokes. Simon got the message and pushed the rest of his cock into your begging cunt. Engulfing him with a boiling heat as you began adjusting to his size. He began to move in and out of you. His eyes locked to yours as he provided your pussy with slow, hard thrusts.

Each slap of his skin against yours elicited a moan from your lips that he returned with animalistic grunts of his own. 2 days too many away from your perfect cunt, and he was never a man of patience.

Your pussy squelched as he dragged the full length of his cock out of you before bottoming out again. His hand moved to the back of your head, bringing you in for a messy kiss while the other moved to your clit. Simon was amazed he had even lasted this long and as his orgasm began to approach its horizon he worked to bring yours to as well. You gasped into the kiss. His hand quickening its assault as his thrusts entered you at a new angle. Simon pistoning his cock against the patch of nerves that lay within your walls, your hold on him beginning to tighten as he talked you through your imminent climax.

“Cum on my cock pretty girl. I know you need it. I need it.” His words came out in a gravel like tone. He couldn’t hold it in any longer when your cunt began to spasm around his shaft, milking his own release from him as the coil in your stomach snapped. You threw your head back, your mouth falling agape as Simon growled against your neck. His hot seed filled you with a satiating intensity.

“So,” your breathing now labored, “So good Si.” Your hand came to massage the back of scalp as he littered your neck with kisses.

It wouldn’t be until another 2 days when he denied his involvement in your oncoming fever. His own having been broken when he suggested a new at home remedy to cure you.

[iambilliejeanok]

Okay hear me out Madara eating reader out and Hashirama fingering reader's backdoor with both men whispering dirty words and fucking them till morning? It's okay to ignore this if this is too intense ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Warnings: 18+, overstimulation, dacryphilia, mild somno, it’s just a lot going on in here.

Yeah anon this one was too intense fr.😩

A low moan rang through your throat as the warm water massaged your back in the shower, the pressure perfect enough to put you to sleep. You needed to be quick so you could go and enjoy some rest, grabbing your loofah and body wash to begin scrubbing yourself. Lathering the loofa with your favourite cherry scented soap, the running water and exhaustion distracted you from the noises your husbands made as they entered the house, back from parking the yacht and dealing with all the fish you caught. Madara was obsessed with canning and drying foods after all, so after Hashirama escorted you back to the villa, he returned to help Madara with all the fish.

Even as the shower door opened, you didn’t hear Hashirama open it, but you felt a cool breeze hitting your back, opening your eyes only slightly, to see where it came from, only for them to widen in surprise. “Hashi?”, you said, too tired to be bothered by the smell of fish coming off of him. “You don’t mind if I join you dear?”, he asked, “No, that’s fine, close the door it’s cold!”, you whined. Hashirama was tired too, but not too tired to love you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, taking the loofah from your hands. “I know you’re tired, let me wash you”, he said, already lifting your arm up to start scrubbing. “Hashi, you’re so sweet”, you said, your voice low. Leaning against his chest, you simply let him wash you, closing your eyes and sinking further into him, Hashirama making small conversation to keep you from falling asleep.

The door opened again and in came Madara, who also smelled like fish, but it didn’t even matter to you, you just wanted peace as Hashirama began working on your chest. Coming around the two of you to stand in front you, he smiled at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Hey baby”, you drawled, reaching your free hand out to place it on his chest. “Hey sleepy head”, he smiled, trying not to distract himself with your chest area, Hashirama scrubbing your breasts with the utmost care, hypnotized by your hardened nipple, that got too much attention from the loofah, the soap studs decorating them prettily. Licking his bottom lip, Madara was also hypnotized by the two pretty, brown buds Hashirama getting carried away, tweaking one of them while he repeatedly washed the other, like a broken robot. You on the other end, were still tired, not noticing the pause since you were beginning to doze off. Being married to such kind men meant that you had the luxury to fall asleep right here and now and you’d wake up clean and cuddled up with them sometimes later on.

“I’ll get the lower half”, Madara said, his voice husky and his dick semi hard after staring at Hashirama working your nipples. “Sure”, was all Hashirama said, Madara taking the loofah out of his hand and kneeling down on one knee, he got to work, scrubbing your tummy, your thighs and legs, moving a little fast so you could all get out of here. Placing your foot back down, he stood up to rinse the loofah, hanging back on the hook before squeezing some of your feminine wash on his hand. Rubbing his hands together to get the soap spread out, he saw your thighs were together again. Hashirama gently pushed his knee between your legs, spreading your thighs open for you, Madara cupping your pussy, carefully lathering the soap in between your folds, making sure your entire vulva was covered before he began rinsing, Hashirama still tweaking your nips, totally losing himself in placing kisses and nibbling your neck.

Opening your eyes, you were not surprised to see Madara on his knees infront of you, his head dangerously close to your puss. The shower was so steamy, and you were so tired, already overstimulated by the situation, shifting to get out of Hashiramas hold. “Relax love, you’re exhausted, let us take care of you”, Hashirama softly spoke in your ear, his voice an erotic whisper, deep and smooth as it played it your ear, and you began to feel that overwhelming sense of safety, “Okay”, you nodded, relaxing into his chest again. “Madara, the soap please”, Hashirama requested, Madara standing up to squeeze a little bit in his hand, Hashirama rubbing them together before he wrapped an arm around your waist, Madara spreading your cheeks apart for Hashirama to gently rub the soap in between, getting you all cleaned up like you trusted them too.

The water felt amazing, but now your body felt heavy and the pressure of it and you longed for your bed. “Hashi, I’m tired”, you whined, both your husbands looking at one another, communicating something you didn’t understand. “Hey!”, you whined again, lightly hitting Madara’s chest, “I need sleep!”, you complained, Madara cupping your cheek with his palm, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your lips. “Yes baby, we’re almost done okay”, he cooed, two more kisses for both your cheeks and one for your forehead before he got to washing himself, Hashirama giving you over to him so he could have his turn washing.

You couldn’t hold back the soft whimpers escaping your lips, Madara and Hashirama got too sidetracked while moisturizing you, now giving you a full body massage. While Madara worked wonders on your lower half, squeezing and rubbing you from your ass and going down to your feet, Hashirama focused on your shoulders and back, you felt so good you weren’t sure you still existed, but even as relaxed and as tired as you were, arousal still crept up on you, your coochie growing wet and you weren’t sure why. Flipping you over, the divine treatment continued, Hashirama excited to massage your breasts, starting from your tummy and working his way up, finally reaching his favorite part of your body, selfishly grabbing both of your mounds in his large hands, his eyes focused on your nipples as he kneaded them, teasing himself a little by staying away from your nipples. Madara on the other hand, slowly massaged your thighs, dipping his hands between them to massage your inner thighs, moving far too close to your pussy, your arousal dramatically increasing as he applied the right amount of pressure on a spot very close to your pussy, making you bite your lip to stifle a louder moan. Hashirama began tweaking your nipples again, his mouth watering as he played with them, denying himself the chance to latch onto one, waiting for Madara to make the first move.

As Madara massaged you, he could now smell your arousal, noticing a bit of the sticky slick on the back knuckles that “accidentally”, grazed your cooch. Just like Hashirama, Madara loved taking advantage of you while you were asleep, looking at Hashirama, silently communicating to flip you back into your tummy. “You wanna play around a little?”, Madara asked, that evil smirk on his lips making Hashirama smirk too. “Yeah, why not”, he said, carefully moving to kneel beside you, Madara on his knees beside you, your face sinking into the soft covers, sleep seducing you all the more. “Shhhh sweetheart, we’ll be gentle I promise”, Hashirama softly whispered in your ear as he adjusted you to sit up on your knees, Madara laying on his back, grabbing your thigh and lifting it so he could squeeze in between them and now you were seated on his face, Hashirama caressing your body as he kept your upright with his arm, softly squeezing and rubbing your ass. “Oh god”, you moaned, gasping when you felt Madara separated your folds, exposing your clit, his breath hot against the vulnerable pink bud. “Baby, we promise we won’t take too long okay? Can you be my good little girl and work with us please?”, he asked ever so sweetly, carefully pushing you so you rested on your hands, (at this point you’re in all fours, sitting on Madara’s face while Hashirama is assisting right next to you) bringing his hands between your legs to pull your clitoral hood up while Madara speared your folds. You were perfectly exposed, already moaning with the way they touched you, so hot and ready for them you wanted to cry, grinding your hips down onto your hubby’s face in hopes of receiving some much needed relief and yes, your needs were met, Madara waisting no time in latching on to your clit, softly sucking it, forcing you to bite your lip hard, before you softly cried, oh so close to coming. “Babbyyy”, you whine, your whimpers stuttering as he continued to suck, flicking his tongue against it before sucking again. You gripped the covers, shutting your eyes tight and moaning repeatedly as Madara devoured you. Hashirama could no longer resist, using his free hand to rub your ass, squeezing before slipping his finger’s covered in massage oil in between, massaging your anus. Your moans grew louder and you began jerking your hips, a sign that you were close, Hashirama using this opportunity to dip his thumb inside, biting his lip at the tightness, imagining this around his dick, doubting if he’d be able to settle for simply fingering you tonight. “Mmm, yes baby”, Hashirama moaned, focused on how he worked his thumb into your tight asshole, which only grew tighter to a point where he couldn’t move it as you quickly reached your climax, Madara burying his tongue inside your warm vagina, greedily tongue fucking you as you squeezed his tongue through your orgasm. Your thighs slightly trembling, the orgasm intense like it usually was, neither one of them ceasing any of their actions as you tried to catch your breath, Madara withdrawing his tongue from your pussy and spreading your lips to start sucking on your clit again, a scream ripping from your throat from how amazing he was making you feel, the thumb in your ass intensifying your pleasure as Hashirama began picking up the pace, burying two of his long fingers inside of your pussy, his other hand still holding your clitoral hood back for Madara to have more access to your clit, you arms failing you, your body falling into the bed. Hashiramas placed a hand around your neck, pulling you to sit straight up this time, both your hands gripping his forearm hard as he began fingering your ass and pussy at the same time, and you couldn’t even scream with his hand restricting your airflow. All you could do was cry in gargled whimpers, writhing around as Madara focused on sucking the life out of you, his hands now on your hips, holding you still.

“Ahhhhhh!!!!! Hashiiii!!!”, you screamed, your next orgasm explosive your eyes rolling so hard it hurt, your entire body shivering as you tried to handle the pleasure, Hashirama’s fingers being pushed out as you squirted hard across the bed and all over Madara’s face and hair, but did that stop him from his cruel actions? His mouth and tongue still torturing you. You’d long accepted that you were going to have to just cum for them. It’s something they made sure you understood everytime they put their hands on you.

“P-pleeaaase!!!”, you cried as you felt Hashirama’s fingers plunge inside of you again, your pussy and your ass stuffed. “Pleeassse I’m b-begg—oh my gaaaaaahhhh!!!!”, you tried to speak, screaming through gritted teeth, spit falling from you lips, down your chin and onto Hashirama’s hand. “Hush baby, did we say you could speak?”, he softly asked, licking up the trail of spit on your chin and sucking on your lip, his fingers moving fast as another orgasm quickly crashed onto you. You felt that your clit would explode, gripping Madara’s hair so hard even Hashirama heard him grunt loudly. You didn’t realize how hard you were yanking on his hair, your brain barely able to register anything but the constant stimulation. Hashirama scooped you off of him, wasting no time in rolling onto his back, easily manhandling your now weak and numb body into a full Nelson right ontop of him. You wanted to cry so bad, but you knew that Madara wouldn’t ignore it, but what else could you do? You should’ve expected this. They always ask for a nibble only to end up eating the entire cookie.

“Fuck, I guess we’re wrecking her tonight?”, Madara chuckled , biting his lip at the sight of your pussy spread so wide open for him. He could do all kinds of things to your juicy, puffy pussy while Hashirama fucks your tight ass. “I can’t help myself, get me the oil”, he spoke , his voice having dropped a couple of octaves. “Sure thing”, Madara said, quickly reaching for it. The oil was still nice and warm as Madara held the bottle over your pussy, slowly dripping the oil right onto your clit, watching it run down your pussy and to your ass crack. He then poured a little in his hands, rubbing them together and gripping Hashirama’s fully erect dick, not gentle at all in the way that he knew he’d like, massaging the tall, thick shaft, biting his lip at the precum that dripped onto his fist. Hashirama’s toes began to curl, Madara just knew how to fuck with him. “Fuck, Madara enough”, he growled, digging his heel into the bed at the intense pleasure costing through him, Madara now fondling his balls, squeezing them nice with the perfect amount of pressure, Hashirama letting out a deep and long groan. “What’s the matter? I’m trying to prep you, sit still”, Madara reproached, now massaging Hashiramas dick with one hand, his other hand now prepping you. “Such a pretty little pussy you have baby”, Madara drawled, massaging your swollen clit with the pad of his fingers, getting the oil all over you. Hashirama knew there was no getting out of this, he knew just how much of a dominant prick Madara could be, and if he was in Madara’s shoes, he’d probably do the same. “Fuck Madara, stop!“, he groaned, his voice deep even as he whined and moaned, digging his fingers into your thighs and kicking his heels into the bed. He knew he’d probably have to just endure this, and try not to cum before he got to sheath himself inside of you. “I’m not done prepping, take it”, Madara spat right back, your feet kicking the air and your toes spreading open and curling as Madara massaged you, the slow and lazy way he moved his fingers just have to be the end of you. “Baby p-pleeaasse!”, you managed to beg, “Please what?”, Madara asked, suddenly plunging two of his fingers inside of you, his middle and index finger, facing upwards, all the way to his knuckles, and you screamed beautifully for him your legs now shivering. Another orgasm threatening to violently possess you once again.

“I said please what? Ask your daddy politely for what you want”, he spoke, but you couldn’t answer him, not with how he curled his fingers to stroke your gspot, keeping at a steady pace, enjoying the whimpers and cries coming from both his partners…mostly from you, but Hashirama was barely holding on, his eyes shut tight and beads of sweat forming on his forehead from how much effort he put into refraining from coming. Just when you thought you’d get to enjoy yet another blissful orgasm, he withdrew his fingers, now attempting to the push the same fingers in your ass. “b-baby!!! I can’t!!!”, you cried, barely making sense in your speech, stuttering and whimpering as he pushed his finger in deeper and deeper, until it was fully inside of you. He immediately set to a fast pace, and you came undone, squirting hard all over your hubbies, “Hashirama, go ahead”, he spoke above your screams, quickly pulling his finger out of you to rub on your clit, “Aww baby, let it all out, fuck, look at this pretty pussy making such a mess, good girl baby, keep squirting for your daddy”, he praised, as Hashirama began to sink inside of you, your rectum squeezing him so hard it hurt, but he was far too horny to stop, the pain only tempting him to cum, but he told himself he wouldn’t cum until he got to fuck your little asshole for a minute. “Baby, your so tight, you’re going to make me come. You want daddy to fill you up with his cum?”, Hashirama asked through gritted teeth, trying to contain himself while he spoke. “Uhhuuuh!!!”, was all you respond with, your brain half conscious as you tried to keep up with them. You loved lasting throughout the entire session but sometimes it proved to be a bit of a challenge for you. And tonight was one of those challenges.

He was just barely halfway inside of you, but considering his size, he usually just fucked you like this whenever he wanted you from behind, this was better than nothing. Madara sat back on his heels, playing with himself just as rough as he was with Hashirama earlier, edging himself off just once before he decided he wouldn’t be able to last any longer. He only did this to himself and Hashirama so they would both nut quick to spare you. He was only thinking of you, hypnotized by how you shivered, screamed and cried. What an angel…he thought

When he saw Hashirama had a good pace, he decided to join, hovering over you to lined himself with your sloppy pussy, unintentionally thrusting into you harder and faster than he wanted, earning a good mixture of a scream and a grunt. You were so tight, he immediately corrected himself, slowing down as he continued to fuck you at an agonizingly steady pace. Having one of them fuck you was always overwhelming, but two of them at the same time, you surely wouldn’t feel bad for passing out. “Aaahhhh, fuck, I’m sorry baby, is this better, when I fuck you nice and slow? I know you love it when I go deep and hard”, he seductively spoke, placing a few kisses on your sweaty face, emphasizing the words “deep and hard” with a mind numbing, hard thrust of his hips, hitting your cervix you immediately came, you were so brain dead you couldn’t even scream, just drooling, gritting your teeth, rolling your eyes, kicking your feet and making all these grunts and whimpers.

“Awww it’s alright baby”, Madara comforted you, his heart exploding with so much love for you. You were so cute.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay”, Hashirama said at the same time, both of them praising you as you fully surrendered.

Madara couldn’t help but pick up the pace, Hashirama following suit, as Hashirama thrusted into you, Madara pulled out, and when Hashriama pulled back, Madara went all the way in. “My sweet angel, gonna fill up both of your holes”, Hashirama moaned. “Fuck yes, stuff you until you’re nice and full, and you’ll have all of our babies right?”, Madara added. Who knew that such an innocent day would end with such a chaotic night. You definitely wouldn’t be able to move tomorrow.

[sanjisblackasswife]

(NSFW/FLUFF) Let’s Talk About: Taking a Bath With Nico

(Black Fem! Reader)

I believe taking a bath would him would actually be one of the best times to bond.

It’s not always sexual when you two are in a bath either it’s always just vibes….

Most of the time.

Half of the time.

Sometimes.

Nico always places you on his lap or muscular thigh when bathing. He wants to face you to talk to you, plus he loved the closeness of your naked breast against his chest.

“You know I can’t properly bathe like this right?” Nico gives you a crooked smirk you loved oh so much and shrugged before leaning back on the cool tub rim to exhale. You sighed reaching for the towel and soap to wash your boyfriend’s chest. Your careful scrubs on his sore body felt so good, but what felt even better was your cunt teasingly rubbing against his soft cock placed on his lower abdomen.

He didn’t know if you were able to feel it or not, but Nico gritted his teeth each time you reached above him just for your wet slick to glide under his shaft.

“What?” You meet the eyes of your boyfriend and he tilts his head at you as if he is insinuating something. You shrug confused until he hums pointing his finger downwards. You honestly didn’t realize his hard cock resting in between you both. “Nico you perv why can’t we just bathe together like a normal couple!”

He scoffed at your assumption and signed, “Woman, you kept rubbing up against my dick with your pussy what the hell else is it supposed to do?!”

Oooh..You were wondering why it felt a little too good reaching up and down to grab the different soaps.

“Oh…” you giggled, Nico grabbed your cheeks with one hand and pulled you close to his face, he turned your head to his opposite hand and signed, “Are you ganna fix it?”

Well…it wasn’t like you would pass up a time to sit on Nico’s cock. So you give him a small kiss and adjust your body to now slide on him making you both moan in the process. You began to pepper his face with kissed and as much as he loved your affection he also needed friction so in one motion his hands were holding your ass as he began to thrust upwards.

“Nicooo…” you moaned in his mouth. The pace was steady as you also began grinding on him as well. The closeness of the position he was in made him groan in your mouth, this is exactly why he loved having sex with you in the small tub; the closeness.

You felt every thick inch of his cock dragging in and out of you, your hands were gripping his wide shoulders, head thrown back biting your lip to not make too much noise because you didn’t feel like hearing Worick tease you again for the pretty noises you tend to make.

You were a few inches taller than Nico so he used it to his advantage while you were on top and caught one of your subtly bouncing breast in his mouth, his mouth was so wet and hot compared to your cold damped skin you clenched around him due to shock.

At this point water was everywhere from the walls to the floor and neither of you cared. Not in this moment.

Nico’s grip on you tightened and his lips pulled at your nipple feeling himself ready to cum, you felt your orgasm approaching too and so you held him back closer, causing your boyfriend’s face to be smothered in between your breasts at he picked up the pace in his thrust.

As the orgasms washed over you both. He kept you still for a moment before pulling out of you & pushing you back exhaling.

“I almost suffocated between those things.” He signed to you , you grumbled at his constant cheekiness and splashed some water at him. you still didn’t feel clean, especially now see his seamen spill out of you and into the dirty water. He couldn’t care less though, so he grabbed you hand and walked you to the shower to not only finally wash your selves up , but to have another round before bed. Baths with Nico are just more of an excuse to get dirty.

[a-fence]

Trouble Sleeping

Inspired by a scene from Ep. 12 of Our Beloved Summer

Wonjae has been in a rut the past couple of days, trying to figure out how to cure his writer’s block. It’s also making his insomnia worse, lying in bed thinking of how to turn his thoughts into lyrics instead of sleeping. He’s been shuffling from place to place; maybe a different setting may inspire him. Today, he decided to work at the studio thinking that putting himself in a work setting will also make his mind work. However, that wasn’t the case, and the longer he stays in the studio, the stuffier it gets.

He went out to the hallway and looked through the windows and the clear night sky beckoned him to go outside for a walk. Despite the heat, he pulled his too-small beanie even lower, put his earphones on, and took off. He walked aimlessly at first, letting his feet guide him until he realizes he was walking towards your house, and he shoots you a text.

Wonjae: Are you home already? Y/N: Almost. What are you doing? Wonjae: I’m taking a break by walking to your house. Y/N: Did you eat yet? Wonjae: Nope. You? Y/N: Not yet. Let’s have dinner together then. Oh, take your time walking. I still have to cook when I get home. Wonjae: Alright. See you!

Wonjae followed your advice and took the long way to your house. He hasn’t been through this route often and seeing a different scenery slowly cleared his mind, helping him reorganize his thoughts. He took a bit longer as he has to pause every once in a while to type a lyric or a line in his notes app, lest he forgets.

As he neared your house, raindrops slowly pattered down the road. He didn’t bring an umbrella with him and he ran to the nearest awning he could find, thinking it was just a passing rain shower. Ten minutes pass, and it seems like the rain isn’t stopping anytime soon. No convenience stores were in sight at the street he’s in, so he decides to brave the rain.

The rain-drenched his clothing, driving the humid summer heat away and by the time he gets to your house, his clothes are soaked through.

“Ya Woo Wonjae! You’re soaking wet!” you scold him immediately after you open your door.

“It’s actually really refreshing, y/n. Come outside!” he beckoned. He remains outside then removes his beanie and wrings it then hangs it on the rim of your umbrella holder. He also checks his phone which miraculously showed no signs of water damage and sets it on your window ledge to prevent it from getting wet.

“You’re gonna catch a cold!” you countered, trying your best to get him inside.

“You’re gonna take care of me anyway, right?” he said, jutting out his lower lip as he pouts, then he steps closer, grabbing your hands and giving it the slightest tug.

This exposed your hands to the rain and you felt how cooling it was. “Oh alright! But we won’t stay long okay? The food’s gonna get cold,” you relented and changed into your outside slippers before stepping into the rain.

Wonjae pulled you a few steps away from your door and you stood there, arms outstretched, letting the rain wash away the stress. He pulls you into a hug, his arms around your waist, and you pushed away the hairs sticking to his forehead, “You’re right, it is refreshing.”

“I told you!” he exclaimed and you both chuckled. Then his grip on you tightens as he carries you, causing you to yelp at the sudden movement. “Hold tight!” he warns as he swings you around, your arms wrapped around his neck.

He eventually puts you down. “I didn’t know your scrawny ass is that strong. Working out has been paying off, I see,” you remarked.

He smirks in response then asks, “Let’s go in and have dinner?”

You nod and the two of you go back in, Wonjae not forgetting to grab his beanie and phone, both undressing down to your underwear by the front door. Wonjae puts both of your clothes in the drier as the laundry area is just by the front door and you fetch the two of you bathrobes and towels. You stop by the bathroom to start filling the tub with warm water before handing Wonjae his bathrobe.

“I thought cooking kimchi jjigae would be too hot for this weather, but it seems I cooked the right thing,” you commented as you slurped your soup.

“Even with the hot weather, I’ll gladly eat it as long as it’s cooked by you,” he replied.

The two of you finish eating dinner and Wonjae does the dishes while you check on the bath. You turn off the water and checked that the bath was just warm enough and you go back to see if Wonjae was done.

“Wanna go for a bath?” you ask him.

He nods and follows you to the bathroom. He went in first and you followed. You settle yourself against his chest, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You talk about each other’s day and wash up once the bathwater started to cool.

The two of you prepare for bed together, brush your teeth together, do skincare together, let him use your stuff, and even take turns blow-drying each other’s hair.

In bed, Wonjae sleepily mumbles, “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but when you’re around, I drift off almost as soon as I close my eyes.”

You kiss his forehead and you make sure he’s asleep before you let yourself drift off. You watch him as his breaths slow into a steady rhythm as he falls deeper into sleep, and that’s the only time you let your eyes close.

[dontfeeltoohot]

Breakthrough AO3

Stranger Things Steddie Rating: T Words: 3.5k Warnings: None Summary: 1986 was supposed to be his year. He'd already defeated a hoard of bats and helped save the world with none other than Steve freaking Harrington. But now he's pissing his pants while seizing on the floor of the Hawkins High cafeteria, with everyone watching. And if that isn't a mood killer, he isn't sure what is.

X X X

Eddie hasn’t had a seizure since he was fourteen. Childhood epilepsy, they’d called it, when he went for a follow up at 16, still seizure free. Before then, he’d had seizures at least twice a year, sometimes more, especially when he’d been in elementary school. The guitarist remembers in second grade having multiple seizures in one week. But for the past 6 years, Eddie has been seizure free. He’s also, however, been fever free, not getting sick to any major degree aside from a couple of stress induced headaches and a bout of food poisoning in sophomore year. 

It’s just over a month after Vecna had almost won, but they had come out on top, defeating the…man, if he could be called that. Eddie’s name is cleared, but it’s obvious most people either don’t believe it or simply don’t care. He doesn’t sleep well, doesn’t eat much, he’s stressed and on edge most of the time. The guitarist wonders how everyone else seems to be able to cope and move on while he’s stuck waking up screaming in bed during nights when sleep does come, throwing up from nightmares about Chrissy and the way her bones snapped. Nightmares about Steve dying from demobats haunt him. Steve. His…something. They’ve kissed twice, but haven’t talked about dating yet. It’s all new to Steve and Eddie hasn’t wanted to push him or make him feel rushed. 

Waking up, the trailer is uncomfortably cold for it being almost May. A chill runs through his body, and Eddie shivers, feeling oddly achy. His eyes feel weighted, like he can barely hold them open, his body feels almost weak, and it makes him start to entertain the idea of skipping classes. Then his brain reminds him belatedly that he has a month until he graduates, and if he misses anything important it could mean another year of hell for him. He refuses to let it happen, would rather be eaten by a billion demobats and get rabies, so Eddie gets out of bed and starts toward the shower, hoping that after he washes up he’ll feel better. 

The warm water helps the chill, at least until he’s back in his bedroom, pulling on jeans and a soft black shirt. Rummaging through his drawers, he finds a dark grey, acid washed sweater, tugging it on as well, ignoring the fact it’s seventy three degrees out and sunny. Towel drying his hair, the guitarist coughs a couple of times, his throat not exactly sore, but not exactly not-sore either. After pulling on socks, his Reeboks and his watch, Eddie grabs his bag and heads to school. 

The morning is hazy. He feels trapped in a dense fog, everyone who talks sounds far off. Blinking makes him feel dizzy. In the hallway he bumps into at least four people, mumbling out an apology to the couple of cheerleaders he accidentally catches. Getting to his locker, the curly haired man rests his warm forehead against the cool metal, debating heading down to the nurse. Footsteps approaching seconds later, he forces himself to push off from his locker, looking up to see Robin, her face a mess of worry and anxiety. Unable to be bothered with keeping up theatrics, Eddie just stares at the girl. 

“Are you okay? You look like shit.” 

“I…feel like shit.” 

Robin’s hand presses into his right cheek and he can’t stop the small strangled noise that works its way up, the coolness overwhelmingly nice. Fuck it feels good. 

“You should go home, you’re like…really warm.” She bites her lips and her arms wave around. It makes Eddie’s head hurt just watching them move. 

“I’ll be okay Buckley, almost halfway through the day anyway.” He hopes it sounds convincing. 

The warning bell rings and the guitarist gives her a small smile before heading off to Mr. McAllister’s class- European History. The only reason he’d chosen the class in the first place, back two years ago, was because he found that he could model some of the d&d campaigns off of different wars. He’s gotten an A in the class each year, so he’s figured why change and risk just another reason to hold him back again. 

Sitting in the back of the large classroom, Eddie’s head throbs. The few times he’s glanced up, Mr. McAllister’s eyes have been on him, but he can’t bring himself to care. His face feels like it’s burning, but his body feels ice cold, and everything hurts. 

“-nson!” 

Eddie’s aware his name is being called, so he looks up to find the teacher; and most of the class, looking at him. 

“S-Sorry, what?” 

“I asked if you’d heard my last question, obviously not.” 

“No,” Eddie says dumbly. A few kids snicker, and one of the guys from the basketball team mutters something about him being strung out on drugs. He’s not taken drugs at all today…or had he taken some earlier? Suddenly he can’t remember. Shit, why can’t he remember? The class continues, but Eddie goes back to keeping his eyes closed. McAllister doesn’t call on him again. 

Sitting at the lunch table with his head pillowed into his crossed arms that are laid out on the table, Eddie shivers. He doesn’t need to see everyone around him to know they’re looking at each other with worried and confused expressions.  He hears Jeff mention drugs, and the twenty year old tenses, suddenly angry, angrier than he’s felt in a while. 

“I didn’t do drugs, Jesus Christ! Might be a dealer and smoke weed but I’m not doing fucking cocaine! I feel like shit, I need to lay down, and your mindless conversations about me are moronic. Get a clue for once in your life Jeff!”

Everyone’s silent. Jeff’s eyes are large and he looks shocked, like someone’s just dropped a huge bomb on him. The younger Hellfire members' mouths are open. He’s ready to go off on them too, to let his wrath reign over them, when a sudden sense of deja-vu washes over him like a douse of cold water. Eddie feels like this exact thing has happened already, like he’s rewatching a memory. He feels like he’s floating outside of his body, like he…

Like he’s about to have a seizure. 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. 

Eyes bright with fever, he turns to look at Gareth, the person he’s known the longest, the only other person besides Jeff and Tim who knows about his childhood epilepsy. Swallowing thickly, feeling like his body is crawling out of itself, Eddie grabs Gareth’s arm awkwardly, half gripping it, pulling the sleeve. 

“Gar’th,” his voice comes out slurred, and the man looks at him with a furrowed brow. Jeff and Tim move closer and all three band mates seem to come to the realization at the same time. 

“Oh shit, someone go grab a teacher, now,” Jeff’s voice is loud, and when no one moves, Tim shoves Henderson almost completely out of his seat. 

“He’s about to have a seizure! Get someone to call 911!” 

“A seizure?!” 

“GO!” 

Wheeler is up with Henderson, yelling for help and running to a table where a few teachers are sitting. 

“S’alright man, you’re gonna be fine, hold on..” Jeff and Tim move him, getting him on the floor. Gareth yanks off his jacket and shoves it under Eddie’s head and neck. 

Eddie lays there, blinking. He can’t figure out how to move his tongue, to talk, or to do anything. He feels so off and wrong and his stomach is twisting, he wants to ask what’s happening but his mouth won’t work. He thinks he hears Gareth say something to him, he tries to respond but he only produces a grunt. His head shifts to the side involuntarily, his mouth opens a bit. The blinking continues, staring at the ceiling. He feels hot, like he’s burning up, like fire is consuming him. A whine crawls out of his throat. He tries to move his arm, tries to tug at his sweater, desperately wanting it off.

1986 was supposed to be his year. He'd already defeated a hoard of bats and helped save the world with none other than Steve freaking Harrington. But now he's pissing his pants while seizing on the floor of the Hawkins High cafeteria, with everyone watching. And if that isn't a mood killer, he isn't sure what is.

Then his world fades, and everything goes black. 

The curly haired man’s muscles tighten, body tensing, his back arches. From his abdomen up, he starts to shake- not extensively, not hard, but it’s enough for everyone to see. Then his left arm raises slightly, jerking, his left leg copying. Jeff sees a dark stain appear on Eddie’s jeans and he winces, getting closer to the man, hoping to shield him from the prying eyes of Hawkins High. Everyone in the cafeteria is quiet, only a few whispers about what’s happening. Two teachers, the nurse, and Principle Higgins are suddenly right there, and there’s a siren in the background to alert someone that the ambulance is almost here. 

The seizing slows, tremors running through his body. His head is still shaking, eyes still fluttering abnormally, eyes rolled into the back of his head. His jaw is clenched tight, his right hand is flexed. Eddie makes these choking noises, like his throat is constricting. A moment later, a paramedic and emt move in, the silver-tuned stretcher behind them. 

“What’s his name?” 

Tim blinks as the woman shifts Eddie onto his left side, maneuvering him so his right leg is bent with his knee towards his chest, left leg and arm extended out, and right arm bent and under his head. 

“Eddie, Eddie Munson,” Dustin supplies from where he’s standing behind the older teens, looking wide eyed at the leader of Hellfire, still unconscious. 

“Is this his first seizure?” 

“No,” Gareth shakes his head. “No, he had uh…childhood epilepsy? But he grew out of’em right before highschool…or during ninth grade, I can’t remember exactly.” 

“Okay, so about four years then, since his last?” 

“Six, he’s twenty.” 

The paramedic’s brow furrows as the emt checks his blood pressure, heart rate and respirations. “135 over 89, heart rate at 117, respirations 13,” the younger man calls out. 

“Right, six years. Is he on anything? And before you say no, we can’t go to the police with this, this is just to help make sure your friend is safe.” 

The three older teens look at each other.

“He takes shit sometimes, but I don’t think he did today, and he didn’t last night. We were all together for uhhh…a club. And he never does anything on those nights, never when there are kids he’s gotta watch.” 

The woman nods, writing something down. The emt whistles, a hand on Eddie’s forehead, sweat slicked and pale. “He’s got a hell of a fever.” 

“He said he felt like shit, he seemed pretty sick all morning,” Tim chimes in, biting at his nail. 

“Is he allergic to anything?” 

“Other than cats, I don’t think so,” Jeff shakes his head, watching the emt press down on Eddie’s fingers. 

Eddie stirs a moment later, eyes fluttering open. Everyone can see the confusion and exhaustion in his eyes. He looks around, making no attempts to move out of his current position. 

“Hey Eddie, I’m Laura, this is Chris. We’re here to help, okay? You had a seizure,” the paramedic explains, voice calm and relaxing. “You’re going to be confused, it’s ok. Your friends say you weren’t feeling well before either. We’re gonna get you up on the stretcher and go to the back of the ambulance to check you over more,” she explains everything. 

He feels like he’s been hit by a train. He’s not sure what’s happening. Everything sounds garbled and feels far off. A woman in all blue is crouched next to him, powder blue gloves touching his forehead. Eyes flirting around, Eddie makes out Gareth, Tim, Jeff, Dustin and Mike all staring at him looking terrified. Why? 

“Eddie?” 

“Mm…” he tries to say…anything but it’s impossible. His tongue feels heavy and his jaw hurts. 

“Do you know where you are? What happened?” Laura asks, and Eddie manages to shake his head no. 

“You’re at school, you had a seizure,” she says again, and Eddie half understands. He lets out another groan and shuts his eyes, head throbbing enough he feels like it might explode. His entire body aches, his limbs feel like jello, and his brain feels like it’s been tossed in a blender. He’s nauseous and confused, and he wants to go home, go and find Steve, have a nice long nap with him. 

“Alright honey, we’re going to move you okay? Just up to the stretcher, it’ll be quick,” Laura explains, head nodding towards the stretcher that’s now been moved to its lowest height, a foot off the ground. Laura and Chris pick him up, one at the head and one at the feet, then pull straps over his lap and legs. 

“Mm..h-had se’zure?” Eddie looks around, feeling sick enough he doesn’t care that half of Hawkins High is watching him. He spots Robin with a few of her band friends. The second she sees him, she starts moving forward. He must make enough movement, because the first responders look up, along with the teachers and Principal Higgins. 

“Eddie! Holy shit, oh god, are you okay? I mean obviously you’re not okay, but..but oh god, I’ll call Steve, yeah? And Wayne, an-“ 

“Miss Buckley, I know you’re worried, but let him breathe,” Higgins puts a hand on her shoulder and she scrunches her nose up.

“Th’nks,” Eddie mumbles to his friend, shivering. Chris pulls a blanket up over his clothes, and the guitarist holds it close. God he’s cold. 

Laura and Chris start wheeling him to the ambulance. He shuts his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. Exhaustion permeates every inch of him. By the time they get the gurney strapped into place on the truck's metal floor, Eddie’s becoming slightly more coherent. He coughs, too tired to truly cover his mouth. 

“Your friends said you hadn’t been feeling well today, Eddie?” 

“W-Woke up sick. Felt like shit before th’seizure, feel worse now.” Shivering even with the blanket, the paramedic takes a plastic instrument and slips it under his tongue. It beeps twelve seconds later. 

“101.5. No wonder you feel so terrible.” She gives him a sympathetic look. “Now normally we’d give you a choice about heading to the hospital, but having a seizure means you might not be of total sound mind, so we’re going to bring you in,” she explains. 

“‘Kay,” he nods, too tired to argue. God Steve and Wayne are going to rip him a new one for even going to school. He hopes Robin or Dustin actually call them. The ride lulls Eddie to sleep, even with all the bumps and sharp turns. 

XXX 

“I need you to know he’s okay and I talked to him, before I say anything else,” Robin’s voice crackles across the phone. 

Steve’s mind goes blank. He knows exactly who Robin means when she says ‘he’. He means Eddie. The same man who he went to hell and back with, the same man who he’d kissed a week ago, and then 3 days ago. The same man he’s had a crush on since he’d held a damn glass bottle to his throat. Swallowing, the nineteen year old tries to compose himself, heart racing. 

“What happened?!” His hands mess with his shirt, anxiety through the roof. He needs Eddie to be okay. 

“He had a seizure in the cafeteria-“ 

“A seizure?!!” 

The ex-swim captain doesn’t know much about seizures, aside from what he’d learned as a lifeguard. He knows they’re dangerous and can cause a lot of damage. He’s never heard of the older man having seizures before, so what does this mean? Is something wrong? It has to be, no one just has a seizure without something being wrong.” 

“-rth to Steve!’l 

“What!!” Steve growls, then realizes it’s Dustin’s voice now. 

“He was okay when the paramedics left with him. He was…kind of talking, and he was looking at things and stuff. But he was sick today. Like…really sick. He looked like shit. I don’t know if that was because of the seizure, but Robin says he told her he felt like shit before. Oh! And Gareth said he had…had something…” 

“Childhood epilepsy! He used to have seizures,” Mike’s voice is loud through the phone and Steve white knuckles the tan plastic. 

“Okay, okay! Everyone shut up. I gotta find my keys and go see him. I’ll call and update you guys. Go to Dustin’s…or…something. I don’t know. But everyone can’t just come bursting into his room after school. And someone call and tell his uncle.” 

The drive from his house to the hospital is just under ten minutes while ignoring the speed limits that are posted around town. His whole body feels like a live wire, which makes Steve smile a little, remembering the song by Motörhead that Eddie had showed him a few weeks back. Pulling in quickly to the now well-visited hospital, he jogs inside before his brain reminds him he might not even be able to see the man, not when he isn’t family. Walking up to the receptionist, he lays his charm on thick, thankful the woman doesn’t seem to be too old for the Harrington magic. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Hi, I’m looking for a friend? I think he was brought in a few minutes ago, his name is Eddie Munson,” Steve explains. “I was hoping to see him, his uncle is on the way but he’d hoped I could check on him, Eddie’s pretty anxious about hospitals and well…his uncle seemed pretty distressed.” 

It’s not exactly a lie. Eddie isn’t a fan of hospitals, and while he hasn’t spoken to Wayne, he has no doubt it’s how he’ll react. He’s gotten to see just how close the two are, even if he wouldn’t have expected it at first. Wayne may be gruff and a little hard to get to know at first, but he loves his nephew, and Steve’s grateful for it. Everyone should love the twenty year old. 

The woman, no older than 30, looks at him and then bites her lip. “Give me just a second.” 

Blowing out a breath, Steve waits, drumming his fingers restlessly on the fake wood desk. He wonders if this is the kind of energy Eddie feels most days, and why he can’t stop moving- the need to be doing something, to be helping, to be seeing the ones he cares about. A minute later the woman comes back out, giving him a somewhat nervous smile. 

“You can come on back. Just try not to be too loud, technically you’re his brother right now,” she whispers to him. He thinks he could hug her. 

Steve passes a few rooms, trying to keep his face forward, not wanting to make awkward eye contact with any of the other patients. The woman shows him into room 7, where the glass door is shut. Steve thanks her and then opens the sliding door, closing it back and turning. Eddie’s laying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than usual. His skin is pale, his cheeks are flushed. He looks exhausted and feverish and miserable. What catches Steve off guard is how still he is, how unmoving. There’s a heart rate monitor on his finger, and an IV in his arm, fluids hanging from a pole next to the bed. 

“Eddie.” 

In a matter of two seconds, he’s sitting on the bed, hand finding the others. Even just barely touching the other, Steve can feel the fever-heat pooling off of him. Eddie looks up at him, eyes half open. 

“Stevie.” 

He sounds like he can barely talk from how tired he is, and Steve’s chest aches. He reaches out and brushes some of the wispy hairs around the man’s face away. Eddie leans close, groaning almost inaudibly from the movement. Steve’s not sure what a seizure feels like, but he saw Maria Lochley have one in third grade and he can still remember perfectly how her body had flopped around on the gym floor. He’s sure Eddie must hurt all over. 

“God, Robin and Dustin called…I’m so sorry, I’m sorry that happened. They said you’ve had them before?” He shifts a little, biting his lip. 

“Yeah…when I was a kid. Grew out of’em, or so I thought.” 

Steve wants so desperately to kiss him, tell him it’ll be okay, that they’ll figure it out together. Instead, a doctor walks in, looking between the two boys before moving closer. Steve gets off the bed and stands in the corner, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. 

“We’re going to refer you to a neurologist, since you’ve had a breakthrough seizure, Mr.Munson. We’re also going to get you back for a scan of your head, just to make sure the seizure wasn’t caused by any kind of mass,” the man explains. Eddie nods but Steve can tell he’s too tired to fully comprehend everything. His fever-pink cheeks are a glaring indication he needs to be resting, he thinks, but he also knows checking for masses is pretty important too. Eddie rubs his face with shaky hands as the man walks out. 

“You’re going to be okay. And I’m here with you while you get there,” Steve promises. Eddie grins lazily. 

“You’re a big ol’softie Steve Harrington. Glad we met officially, and you weren’t the dickhead I thought you were.” 

“Right back at you Ed’s.” 

[imthebadguyyy]

God, I Love You

Lewis Hamilton X Reader

Summary - Its been a tiring couple of race weeks, and you just want to love on your man

Stretching, you slowly opened your eyes as the first bright rays of sunshine peeked through a gap in the curtains, that you had drawn shut the previous night. As you slowly regained complete consciousness, you became aware of the slight weight around your waist, and the feel of warm breath on the back of your neck.

Suddenly remembering the events of the previous day, a smile etched itself onto your lips, as you rolled over to see a sight you had sorely missed for the past three weeks. Lewis was still fast asleep, head buried in your neck, and arm slung around your waist. Smiling as you took in the sight, you became faintly aware of the sound of paw steps down the hall, as Roscoe's face peeked in through the open door. Sitting up very slowly so you didn't wake your sleeping boyfriend, you extended your arms towards the dog, who came trotting forward for a morning cuddle.

After some morning loving for the dog, you decided to get up and start your day, and let Lewis sleep off the exhaustion, exhilaration, stress and jet lag from the races he had won. He had only come home yesterday, and it had been so late in the evening that you had just eaten dinner together, and talked for a bit, but sensing how hard it was for him to even keep his eyes open, you had simply gone to bed. But today, you had planned to simply spend time together, to make up for the time he had not been there.

Stepping into the bathroom, you did your morning routine, of brushing, using the toilet, and tying your hair up into a ponytail. Then you made your way into the kitchen, the bulldog following right by your side. When you had begun dating Lewis, Roscoe had simply started treating you like his mom, and once, when Lewis had referred to you as 'Mumma' while talking to him, you cried. That was the moment you knew that this was always going to be your family. Ever since then the dog had become your fur baby as well, and Lewis often joked that Roscoe loved you more than he loved his own dad.

Deciding that waffles and fruit was the way to go, you quickly whipped up the batter, and poured it into the Mickey Mouse shaped waffle iron that you had bought at a Disney themed store. Picking out some strawberries, mango, orange segments and blueberries to put in a bowl on the side, you also decided to prepare Roscoe's bowl, so the doggo could eat with you guys. Soon, the smell of waffles wafted through the air, and you took out two perfectly shaped waffles to put onto the plate. Quickly pouring more batter into the pan, you began to set up the breakfast tray, and then make your way back to the bedroom.

With breakfast eventually ready, you picked up the tray laden with waffles, cut fruit, tea, maple syrup and a bowl of dog food and walked up quietly to the bedroom. The curtains were still drawn, although the gentle breeze kept moving them to the side, causing little rays of sunshine to peek through and shine on Lewis's face. To combat the light, he had simply pulled the fluffy white blanket over his head to keep the light away from his face, and you mentally "awed" at the sight. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, you climbed into the bed, and wrapped you arms around his torso, peppering kisses onto his neck, and moving onto his face, kissing his chin, nose, cheeks, forehead, eyes, and then finally, just above his lips.

Stirring as you kissed his face, Lewis's eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in his surroundings. After momentary confusion about where he was, he remembered that he was back home. Back with Y/N and Roscoe. A feeling of happiness and pure joy began to spread through his body, as he turned to see Y/N's e/c eyes looking at him with pure love and adoration. "Good morning bubs! Did you sleep well?" she asked, fingers tracing shapes over his bare skin. "Morning baby. I did" he replied, snuggling into her warmth, burying his face in her chest, as she began to softly play with his hair. "I made breakfast"

"You didn't have to" "I wanted too" 'MmmHmm"

As you basked in each others warmth and cuddled up to each other, Roscoe, deciding that he wanted some loving too, jumped onto the bed, right between the two of you. "Hello Roscoe" Lewis said, reaching out to pet the doggo. Wagging his tail, he trotted up to your body, and sat down near your tummy, resting his head on Lewis's shoulder. Feeling loved up and comfortable between both your boys, you let out a sigh of content, and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. Humming something under his breath, Lewis began running his fingers along your bare arms, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.

"The foods getting cold" you suddenly said out loud, hopping out of bed to go and get the tray from the bedside table. Getting out of bed, Lewis made his way to the bathroom, and eventually came back to the room in a couple of minutes, to find Roscoe munching away at some treats, while you had picked up a little folding table and placed it on the bed to rest the tray on. Feeling extremely happy once again, he climbed back onto the bed, and grabbed his share of the food on the table.

His phone began to vibrate, Toto's caller ID flashing across the screen. Groaning, he put the phone face down on the table, and ignored the call. "Why aren't you picking up ? It could be important you know" Sighing, he turned to you, "I spoke to him yesterday, and if its that important he can simply text me after I don't pick up. Plus I've seen him for three weeks straight, and now I want to spend time with YOU" pouting, he looked back at you, making you let out a snort of laughter at the look on his face. "Ok drama queen. Now eat your breakfast and then we can take a shower"

Smirking, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, "we?"

"Yes, now shut up and eat" you said, nudging him with a glint in your eyes.

"Yes ma'am"

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

After taking a shower together, and washing the dishes and the general monotonous household work, the both of you decided to take a walk along the beach, and take a frisbee along with you.

Dressing in the appropriate attire for the beach, you put Roscoe in his "ROSCOE 44" harness and walked out of the house. The beach was only five minutes away from your house, and you enjoyed the salty smell of the ocean air. It was a bright and sunny day, accompanied by a pleasant, cool ocean breeze as well. As you neared the golden sand, the bulldog bolted towards the sand, and ran right up to the water, and turned back to look inquiringly at the two of you. Laughing, you caught up with him, setting down the beach bag Lewis had packed for your beach day on a towel. Deciding to just relish in the Sun rays, you laid down a second towel, and removed your wrap around dress to lie in your bikini.

Lewis on the the other hand, decided to go for a swim in the water, and stripped off his t-shirt, so he remained in just his swim trunks. Looking over the top of your sunglasses, you couldn't help your gaze wandering all over his toned and muscled body, letting your eyes drink in the sculpted muscle and the tattoos that adorned his body, eyes lingering over each and every one, teeth unconsciously sinking onto your lower lip. "Enjoying the view?" his cocky voice made you look up at his face, still feeling slightly dazed.

"Yeah, because its mine to enjoy" you replied, throwing him a smirk. Rolling his eyes, he ran to the water to join Roscoe for a swim, while you watched with a smile on your face, as you watched your two boys chase the waves together. Whipping out your phone, you opened Instagram, to film the pair, and uploaded it onto your story with the caption : beach days with these two make everything better 🤍🤍

When the rays became too hot, you guys packed up your bags and made your way back home, stopping to buy some ice cream to beat the heat. Deciding to simply order some Chinese takeout food for dinner, with a bottle of wine, you settled down in front of your TV to have a movie night together. Lewis was in the kitchen, making some popcorn, and bringing you guys some wine as well.

Settling for 'Lion King' for your first movie, you let Lewis sit down, and prop his feet up on the pouffe in front of the sofa, while you tucked your feet up in the sofa, and laid your head down on his chest, his arm coming round your shoulder to hold you tightly. Roscoe sat by Lewis's feet, already asleep from the tiring day he had had at the beach. As Simba met Timon and Pumba, Lewis turned to look down at your face, "God, I Love You" smiling back at him, you leaned up to press your lips to his jaw. " I love you too"

Leaning his head down, he pressed his lips to yours, setting down the bowl of popcorn, to wrap his hands around your back, to keep you in place, as you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, as his hands began sliding up your back to finally rest in your loose hair, while yours slid down to his toned shoulders, and straddled his lap. The kiss grew more and more desperate, until you two finally broke apart, for the need of oxygen, resting your foreheads against each other, breathing heavily. " I love you. You're so good to me"

"I love you more"

"Not possible"

The moment was broken by a loud "wuff" as you both turned to look at the dog, who had stood up and was now looking up at the two of you with a look that said 'get a room parents!' "Roscoe!' Lewis whined, "We were having a moment" Laughing, you got off his lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you. Now, we have to feed to dog"

'Mmhmm' he mumbled, leaning into your touch.

"If you get up now and set the table, I promise I'll lock the door so Roscoe doesn't come in tonight" you said, looking over your shoulder, to wink at him. Eyes darkening slightly, he turned to look at you, and walked right up to you, pressing his palm onto your waist. "You better lock that door tonight. No doggy trauma in this house"

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

OK OK OK OK FIRST F1 FIC. let me know what you thought !

NO I HAD TO ADD THIS BECAUSE IT SUITS THIS STORY SO WELL. im soft 🥺❤

Thank you thank you thank you to @grandestrategia for the idea ❤

[ladydimitrescuspet]

No Threats, Only Promises [NSFW]

ao3 link! I know, it's horrible, but please enjoy!

61. “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.” + reader in their room in underwear/shirt and alcina not being able to take it anymore

I'm not sure I did much with the added part for this request but I tried

***

Just as it got unbearably cold in Romania during winter, it also got unbearably hot during the summer. You’d woken up covered in sweat and your clothes sticking to your body. Pushing yourself out of the bed, you headed into the bathroom to take a much needed cold shower to help cool yourself down. You put on some shorts and a t-shirt before headed downstairs.

As you were making your way to the kitchen you heard a cackle and let out a small groan when you realised it was Daniela. What did she want? “Ooh, Mother’s going to flip when she sees you, little one.”

You frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Daniela?” You didn’t get a reply from her, just a bunch of bugs flying into your face as she flew away from you. “She’s got some nerve.” You mumbled to yourself.

You shook your head to help get over your encounter with Daniela and headed to the kitchen to go grab an apple. Since it was summertime, you would be spending a lot of time watering the plants in the garden multiple times a day. It was going to be tiresome, but you were determined to upkeep the garden so the plants didn’t wither away and die. You worked mostly in silence apart from the humming you did occasionally. You stopped humming when you heard the faint clicking and clacking of heels, smiling to yourself a bit as the grew louder and closer to you before stopping. “My Lady. How are you?” You asked without facing her.

“Y/N?” Lady Dimitrescu said with a raised eyebrow. You could tell by the tone of her voice.

You turned with your hands on your hips. “Yes, dear?” You replied.

Alcina scowled slightly before getting closer to you. “Interesting choice of clothing.” Alcina said. She leaned down so her face was right in yours. “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.” She finished the threat promise off with a low growl which made you smirk.

“My, my, is my Lady having a hard time controlling herself at the sight before her eyes?” You asked before turning back around to tend to the plants and taking a more serious tone. “Besides, it’s too hot out for me to wear pants, Al, I’ll overheat or something. It’s not my fault you’re too turned on to try and keep it in your dress.” You slapped your hand over your mouth as you realised what you said.

Alcina let out a growl. “Lunch time, Y/N.” Was all she said before heading away from the garden.

You gulped slightly at her words. From the way she said her words, you could tell that it wasn't a threat, it was a promise. And one she intended to make good on. You quickly finished up in the garden before heading inside.

“Going to go put on pants, Y/N?” Cassandra asked in an amused tone with a raised eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. “No.” You replied. “Wait, how did you kn-“ Cassandra left before you could even get the rest of your sentence out. “What is up with them today?” You mumbled to yourself before heading up to the room you shared with Alcina. You flopped onto the bed, the coolness of the sheets feeling good on your body causing you to drift off to sleep. You were only asleep for what felt like a few minutes until you glanced at the clock and noticed that it was nearing lunch time, you gulped.

“Y/N? Where are you?” You heard Alcina’s voice call out as she neared the room. You quickly closed your eyes and tried to even out your breathing so she wouldn’t sense that you were awake when she walked into the room. Your plan failed terribly when you felt her chest pushing up against your back as she kissed across your shoulder blades. “I know you’re awake, draga mea. And I believe I have a promise to act on right about now.” Alcina’s lips whispered against your skin causing you to shiver a bit.

“But, Al, I’m tired.” You responded. It was only a half lie. “I mean, I’d love for you to act on what you said earlier, but I’m really tired.”

Alcina hummed as her hand travelled down your side and your leg. “The great part about my promise is that you don’t have to do anything, iubirea mea.” She pushed herself off you and pulled you to the end of the bed until your feet were barely touching the floor. “Hmm, you smell so sweet.”

“You always say that.” You mumbled into the bed. Alcina growled and you growled back at her. She flipped you over so you were facing her and kneeled down in front of you before she yanked your shorts and underwear down to your ankles. She lifted your legs up so she could place them over her head and onto her shoulders. “Are you comfortable enough now, Your Highness?” You asked after all the manoeuvring. Alcina didn’t reply, she just pressed the flat of her tongue against your slick folds and swiped up causing you to moan.

Alcina licked and sucked at you and listened to the lewd sounds you made as she did so. You hadn’t uttered a word since she started eat you out and she smirked. “So is this what it takes to shut that pretty mouth of yours, love?” Alcina asked, you whimpered in reply as she slid two fingers inside of you. She continued to lick and suck at your clit as her fingers thrusted in and out you at a slightly face pace. You arched your back off the bed when she curled her fingers inside of you. You felt yourself meeting her fingers thrust for thrust. You moaned out her name as you felt your orgasm wash over you rather quickly.

You closed your eyes as you felt Alcina lifting your legs back over her head, they felt like jelly. You stayed like that until you felt Alcina tap your cheek with her hand a few times. “I have one more round in me before I return to my work dear so be good for me and try to keep your eyes open.” You nodded your head as best as you could causing her to smile. You let out a soft gasp and small moan as you felt her slowly fill you up with her cock. “Such a good little one, taking mommy’s cock so well.” She grunted out as she filled you more until the hilt of her cock was against your entrance.

“Shit,” You said softly as you felt her slowly thrust in and out of you, your orgasm building back up slightly. “Mommy, I’m not gonna last much longer.” You whimpered, biting your lip as you brought your arms around her neck.

Alcina slid her hands under your ass to bring your hips up so she could thrust into you at an angle. “That’s quite alright, draga mea. I’ll just fuck you until I orgasm.” Alcina replied with a sly smirk on her face. And she did, you lost track of how many times to orgasmed until she reached her peak and shot her cum inside of you, it spilling out of you slightly when she pulled out of you. She lifted you up into a sitting position before lining your lips up with her cock. “Clean it.” You nodded your head and opened your mouth to allow her to push herself into your mouth. You barely had any energy to wrap your hand around her so she grabbed the back of your head and fucked your mouth while you cleaned her off. You felt her other hand slide down your body until you felt her fingers slide into you causing you to moan and gag around her. She brought you to at least a few more orgasms before slid her fingers out of you and her cock out of your mouth, sticking her fingers in her mouth to taste you. “You taste just as sweet as you smell, my love.” Alcina said.

You laid down on the bed feeling like a pile of jello while Alcina made her way to the bathroom to get a cloth. She cleaned you up before tucking you into the bed and kissing your forehead. “Sleep, draga mea, I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.” You nodded your head absentmindedly before drifting off to sleep.

[eddiewmunson]

Breakthrough AO3

Stranger Things Steddie Rating: T Words: 3.5k Warnings: None Summary: 1986 was supposed to be his year. He'd already defeated a hoard of bats and helped save the world with none other than Steve freaking Harrington. But now he's pissing his pants while seizing on the floor of the Hawkins High cafeteria, with everyone watching. And if that isn't a mood killer, he isn't sure what is.

X X X

Eddie hasn’t had a seizure since he was fourteen. Childhood epilepsy, they’d called it, when he went for a follow up at 16, still seizure free. Before then, he’d had seizures at least twice a year, sometimes more, especially when he’d been in elementary school. The guitarist remembers in second grade having multiple seizures in one week. But for the past 6 years, Eddie has been seizure free. He’s also, however, been fever free, not getting sick to any major degree aside from a couple of stress induced headaches and a bout of food poisoning in sophomore year. 

It’s just over a month after Vecna had almost won, but they had come out on top, defeating the…man, if he could be called that. Eddie’s name is cleared, but it’s obvious most people either don’t believe it or simply don’t care. He doesn’t sleep well, doesn’t eat much, he’s stressed and on edge most of the time. The guitarist wonders how everyone else seems to be able to cope and move on while he’s stuck waking up screaming in bed during nights when sleep does come, throwing up from nightmares about Chrissy and the way her bones snapped. Nightmares about Steve dying from demobats haunt him. Steve. His…something. They’ve kissed twice, but haven’t talked about dating yet. It’s all new to Steve and Eddie hasn’t wanted to push him or make him feel rushed. 

Waking up, the trailer is uncomfortably cold for it being almost May. A chill runs through his body, and Eddie shivers, feeling oddly achy. His eyes feel weighted, like he can barely hold them open, his body feels almost weak, and it makes him start to entertain the idea of skipping classes. Then his brain reminds him belatedly that he has a month until he graduates, and if he misses anything important it could mean another year of hell for him. He refuses to let it happen, would rather be eaten by a billion demobats and get rabies, so Eddie gets out of bed and starts toward the shower, hoping that after he washes up he’ll feel better. 

The warm water helps the chill, at least until he’s back in his bedroom, pulling on jeans and a soft black shirt. Rummaging through his drawers, he finds a dark grey, acid washed sweater, tugging it on as well, ignoring the fact it’s seventy three degrees out and sunny. Towel drying his hair, the guitarist coughs a couple of times, his throat not exactly sore, but not exactly not-sore either. After pulling on socks, his Reeboks and his watch, Eddie grabs his bag and heads to school. 

The morning is hazy. He feels trapped in a dense fog, everyone who talks sounds far off. Blinking makes him feel dizzy. In the hallway he bumps into at least four people, mumbling out an apology to the couple of cheerleaders he accidentally catches. Getting to his locker, the curly haired man rests his warm forehead against the cool metal, debating heading down to the nurse. Footsteps approaching seconds later, he forces himself to push off from his locker, looking up to see Robin, her face a mess of worry and anxiety. Unable to be bothered with keeping up theatrics, Eddie just stares at the girl. 

“Are you okay? You look like shit.” 

“I…feel like shit.” 

Robin’s hand presses into his right cheek and he can’t stop the small strangled noise that works its way up, the coolness overwhelmingly nice. Fuck it feels good. 

“You should go home, you’re like…really warm.” She bites her lips and her arms wave around. It makes Eddie’s head hurt just watching them move. 

“I’ll be okay Buckley, almost halfway through the day anyway.” He hopes it sounds convincing. 

The warning bell rings and the guitarist gives her a small smile before heading off to Mr. McAllister’s class- European History. The only reason he’d chosen the class in the first place, back two years ago, was because he found that he could model some of the d&d campaigns off of different wars. He’s gotten an A in the class each year, so he’s figured why change and risk just another reason to hold him back again. 

Sitting in the back of the large classroom, Eddie’s head throbs. The few times he’s glanced up, Mr. McAllister’s eyes have been on him, but he can’t bring himself to care. His face feels like it’s burning, but his body feels ice cold, and everything hurts. 

“-nson!” 

Eddie’s aware his name is being called, so he looks up to find the teacher; and most of the class, looking at him. 

“S-Sorry, what?” 

“I asked if you’d heard my last question, obviously not.” 

“No,” Eddie says dumbly. A few kids snicker, and one of the guys from the basketball team mutters something about him being strung out on drugs. He’s not taken drugs at all today…or had he taken some earlier? Suddenly he can’t remember. Shit, why can’t he remember? The class continues, but Eddie goes back to keeping his eyes closed. McAllister doesn’t call on him again. 

Sitting at the lunch table with his head pillowed into his crossed arms that are laid out on the table, Eddie shivers. He doesn’t need to see everyone around him to know they’re looking at each other with worried and confused expressions.  He hears Jeff mention drugs, and the twenty year old tenses, suddenly angry, angrier than he’s felt in a while. 

“I didn’t do drugs, Jesus Christ! Might be a dealer and smoke weed but I’m not doing fucking cocaine! I feel like shit, I need to lay down, and your mindless conversations about me are moronic. Get a clue for once in your life Jeff!”

Everyone’s silent. Jeff’s eyes are large and he looks shocked, like someone’s just dropped a huge bomb on him. The younger Hellfire members' mouths are open. He’s ready to go off on them too, to let his wrath reign over them, when a sudden sense of deja-vu washes over him like a douse of cold water. Eddie feels like this exact thing has happened already, like he’s rewatching a memory. He feels like he’s floating outside of his body, like he…

Like he’s about to have a seizure. 

Oh fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. 

Eyes bright with fever, he turns to look at Gareth, the person he’s known the longest, the only other person besides Jeff and Tim who knows about his childhood epilepsy. Swallowing thickly, feeling like his body is crawling out of itself, Eddie grabs Gareth’s arm awkwardly, half gripping it, pulling the sleeve. 

“Gar’th,” his voice comes out slurred, and the man looks at him with a furrowed brow. Jeff and Tim move closer and all three band mates seem to come to the realization at the same time. 

“Oh shit, someone go grab a teacher, now,” Jeff’s voice is loud, and when no one moves, Tim shoves Henderson almost completely out of his seat. 

“He’s about to have a seizure! Get someone to call 911!” 

“A seizure?!” 

“GO!” 

Wheeler is up with Henderson, yelling for help and running to a table where a few teachers are sitting. 

“S’alright man, you’re gonna be fine, hold on..” Jeff and Tim move him, getting him on the floor. Gareth yanks off his jacket and shoves it under Eddie’s head and neck. 

Eddie lays there, blinking. He can’t figure out how to move his tongue, to talk, or to do anything. He feels so off and wrong and his stomach is twisting, he wants to ask what’s happening but his mouth won’t work. He thinks he hears Gareth say something to him, he tries to respond but he only produces a grunt. His head shifts to the side involuntarily, his mouth opens a bit. The blinking continues, staring at the ceiling. He feels hot, like he’s burning up, like fire is consuming him. A whine crawls out of his throat. He tries to move his arm, tries to tug at his sweater, desperately wanting it off.

1986 was supposed to be his year. He'd already defeated a hoard of bats and helped save the world with none other than Steve freaking Harrington. But now he's pissing his pants while seizing on the floor of the Hawkins High cafeteria, with everyone watching. And if that isn't a mood killer, he isn't sure what is.

Then his world fades, and everything goes black. 

The curly haired man’s muscles tighten, body tensing, his back arches. From his abdomen up, he starts to shake- not extensively, not hard, but it’s enough for everyone to see. Then his left arm raises slightly, jerking, his left leg copying. Jeff sees a dark stain appear on Eddie’s jeans and he winces, getting closer to the man, hoping to shield him from the prying eyes of Hawkins High. Everyone in the cafeteria is quiet, only a few whispers about what’s happening. Two teachers, the nurse, and Principle Higgins are suddenly right there, and there’s a siren in the background to alert someone that the ambulance is almost here. 

The seizing slows, tremors running through his body. His head is still shaking, eyes still fluttering abnormally, eyes rolled into the back of his head. His jaw is clenched tight, his right hand is flexed. Eddie makes these choking noises, like his throat is constricting. A moment later, a paramedic and emt move in, the silver-tuned stretcher behind them. 

“What’s his name?” 

Tim blinks as the woman shifts Eddie onto his left side, maneuvering him so his right leg is bent with his knee towards his chest, left leg and arm extended out, and right arm bent and under his head. 

“Eddie, Eddie Munson,” Dustin supplies from where he’s standing behind the older teens, looking wide eyed at the leader of Hellfire, still unconscious. 

“Is this his first seizure?” 

“No,” Gareth shakes his head. “No, he had uh…childhood epilepsy? But he grew out of’em right before highschool…or during ninth grade, I can’t remember exactly.” 

“Okay, so about four years then, since his last?” 

“Six, he’s twenty.” 

The paramedic’s brow furrows as the emt checks his blood pressure, heart rate and respirations. “135 over 89, heart rate at 117, respirations 13,” the younger man calls out. 

“Right, six years. Is he on anything? And before you say no, we can’t go to the police with this, this is just to help make sure your friend is safe.” 

The three older teens look at each other.

“He takes shit sometimes, but I don’t think he did today, and he didn’t last night. We were all together for uhhh…a club. And he never does anything on those nights, never when there are kids he’s gotta watch.” 

The woman nods, writing something down. The emt whistles, a hand on Eddie’s forehead, sweat slicked and pale. “He’s got a hell of a fever.” 

“He said he felt like shit, he seemed pretty sick all morning,” Tim chimes in, biting at his nail. 

“Is he allergic to anything?” 

“Other than cats, I don’t think so,” Jeff shakes his head, watching the emt press down on Eddie’s fingers. 

Eddie stirs a moment later, eyes fluttering open. Everyone can see the confusion and exhaustion in his eyes. He looks around, making no attempts to move out of his current position. 

“Hey Eddie, I’m Laura, this is Chris. We’re here to help, okay? You had a seizure,” the paramedic explains, voice calm and relaxing. “You’re going to be confused, it’s ok. Your friends say you weren’t feeling well before either. We’re gonna get you up on the stretcher and go to the back of the ambulance to check you over more,” she explains everything. 

He feels like he’s been hit by a train. He’s not sure what’s happening. Everything sounds garbled and feels far off. A woman in all blue is crouched next to him, powder blue gloves touching his forehead. Eyes flirting around, Eddie makes out Gareth, Tim, Jeff, Dustin and Mike all staring at him looking terrified. Why? 

“Eddie?” 

“Mm…” he tries to say…anything but it’s impossible. His tongue feels heavy and his jaw hurts. 

“Do you know where you are? What happened?” Laura asks, and Eddie manages to shake his head no. 

“You’re at school, you had a seizure,” she says again, and Eddie half understands. He lets out another groan and shuts his eyes, head throbbing enough he feels like it might explode. His entire body aches, his limbs feel like jello, and his brain feels like it’s been tossed in a blender. He’s nauseous and confused, and he wants to go home, go and find Steve, have a nice long nap with him. 

“Alright honey, we’re going to move you okay? Just up to the stretcher, it’ll be quick,” Laura explains, head nodding towards the stretcher that’s now been moved to its lowest height, a foot off the ground. Laura and Chris pick him up, one at the head and one at the feet, then pull straps over his lap and legs. 

“Mm..h-had se’zure?” Eddie looks around, feeling sick enough he doesn’t care that half of Hawkins High is watching him. He spots Robin with a few of her band friends. The second she sees him, she starts moving forward. He must make enough movement, because the first responders look up, along with the teachers and Principal Higgins. 

“Eddie! Holy shit, oh god, are you okay? I mean obviously you’re not okay, but..but oh god, I’ll call Steve, yeah? And Wayne, an-“ 

“Miss Buckley, I know you’re worried, but let him breathe,” Higgins puts a hand on her shoulder and she scrunches her nose up.

“Th’nks,” Eddie mumbles to his friend, shivering. Chris pulls a blanket up over his clothes, and the guitarist holds it close. God he’s cold. 

Laura and Chris start wheeling him to the ambulance. He shuts his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. Exhaustion permeates every inch of him. By the time they get the gurney strapped into place on the truck's metal floor, Eddie’s becoming slightly more coherent. He coughs, too tired to truly cover his mouth. 

“Your friends said you hadn’t been feeling well today, Eddie?” 

“W-Woke up sick. Felt like shit before th’seizure, feel worse now.” Shivering even with the blanket, the paramedic takes a plastic instrument and slips it under his tongue. It beeps twelve seconds later. 

“101.5. No wonder you feel so terrible.” She gives him a sympathetic look. “Now normally we’d give you a choice about heading to the hospital, but having a seizure means you might not be of total sound mind, so we’re going to bring you in,” she explains. 

“‘Kay,” he nods, too tired to argue. God Steve and Wayne are going to rip him a new one for even going to school. He hopes Robin or Dustin actually call them. The ride lulls Eddie to sleep, even with all the bumps and sharp turns. 

XXX 

“I need you to know he’s okay and I talked to him, before I say anything else,” Robin’s voice crackles across the phone. 

Steve’s mind goes blank. He knows exactly who Robin means when she says ‘he’. He means Eddie. The same man who he went to hell and back with, the same man who he’d kissed a week ago, and then 3 days ago. The same man he’s had a crush on since he’d held a damn glass bottle to his throat. Swallowing, the nineteen year old tries to compose himself, heart racing. 

“What happened?!” His hands mess with his shirt, anxiety through the roof. He needs Eddie to be okay. 

“He had a seizure in the cafeteria-“ 

“A seizure?!!” 

The ex-swim captain doesn’t know much about seizures, aside from what he’d learned as a lifeguard. He knows they’re dangerous and can cause a lot of damage. He’s never heard of the older man having seizures before, so what does this mean? Is something wrong? It has to be, no one just has a seizure without something being wrong.” 

“-rth to Steve!’l 

“What!!” Steve growls, then realizes it’s Dustin’s voice now. 

“He was okay when the paramedics left with him. He was…kind of talking, and he was looking at things and stuff. But he was sick today. Like…really sick. He looked like shit. I don’t know if that was because of the seizure, but Robin says he told her he felt like shit before. Oh! And Gareth said he had…had something…” 

“Childhood epilepsy! He used to have seizures,” Mike’s voice is loud through the phone and Steve white knuckles the tan plastic. 

“Okay, okay! Everyone shut up. I gotta find my keys and go see him. I’ll call and update you guys. Go to Dustin’s…or…something. I don’t know. But everyone can’t just come bursting into his room after school. And someone call and tell his uncle.” 

The drive from his house to the hospital is just under ten minutes while ignoring the speed limits that are posted around town. His whole body feels like a live wire, which makes Steve smile a little, remembering the song by Motörhead that Eddie had showed him a few weeks back. Pulling in quickly to the now well-visited hospital, he jogs inside before his brain reminds him he might not even be able to see the man, not when he isn’t family. Walking up to the receptionist, he lays his charm on thick, thankful the woman doesn’t seem to be too old for the Harrington magic. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Hi, I’m looking for a friend? I think he was brought in a few minutes ago, his name is Eddie Munson,” Steve explains. “I was hoping to see him, his uncle is on the way but he’d hoped I could check on him, Eddie’s pretty anxious about hospitals and well…his uncle seemed pretty distressed.” 

It’s not exactly a lie. Eddie isn’t a fan of hospitals, and while he hasn’t spoken to Wayne, he has no doubt it’s how he’ll react. He’s gotten to see just how close the two are, even if he wouldn’t have expected it at first. Wayne may be gruff and a little hard to get to know at first, but he loves his nephew, and Steve’s grateful for it. Everyone should love the twenty year old. 

The woman, no older than 30, looks at him and then bites her lip. “Give me just a second.” 

Blowing out a breath, Steve waits, drumming his fingers restlessly on the fake wood desk. He wonders if this is the kind of energy Eddie feels most days, and why he can’t stop moving- the need to be doing something, to be helping, to be seeing the ones he cares about. A minute later the woman comes back out, giving him a somewhat nervous smile. 

“You can come on back. Just try not to be too loud, technically you’re his brother right now,” she whispers to him. He thinks he could hug her. 

Steve passes a few rooms, trying to keep his face forward, not wanting to make awkward eye contact with any of the other patients. The woman shows him into room 7, where the glass door is shut. Steve thanks her and then opens the sliding door, closing it back and turning. Eddie’s laying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than usual. His skin is pale, his cheeks are flushed. He looks exhausted and feverish and miserable. What catches Steve off guard is how still he is, how unmoving. There’s a heart rate monitor on his finger, and an IV in his arm, fluids hanging from a pole next to the bed. 

“Eddie.” 

In a matter of two seconds, he’s sitting on the bed, hand finding the others. Even just barely touching the other, Steve can feel the fever-heat pooling off of him. Eddie looks up at him, eyes half open. 

“Stevie.” 

He sounds like he can barely talk from how tired he is, and Steve’s chest aches. He reaches out and brushes some of the wispy hairs around the man’s face away. Eddie leans close, groaning almost inaudibly from the movement. Steve’s not sure what a seizure feels like, but he saw Maria Lochley have one in third grade and he can still remember perfectly how her body had flopped around on the gym floor. He’s sure Eddie must hurt all over. 

“God, Robin and Dustin called…I’m so sorry, I’m sorry that happened. They said you’ve had them before?” He shifts a little, biting his lip. 

“Yeah…when I was a kid. Grew out of’em, or so I thought.” 

Steve wants so desperately to kiss him, tell him it’ll be okay, that they’ll figure it out together. Instead, a doctor walks in, looking between the two boys before moving closer. Steve gets off the bed and stands in the corner, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. 

“We’re going to refer you to a neurologist, since you’ve had a breakthrough seizure, Mr.Munson. We’re also going to get you back for a scan of your head, just to make sure the seizure wasn’t caused by any kind of mass,” the man explains. Eddie nods but Steve can tell he’s too tired to fully comprehend everything. His fever-pink cheeks are a glaring indication he needs to be resting, he thinks, but he also knows checking for masses is pretty important too. Eddie rubs his face with shaky hands as the man walks out. 

“You’re going to be okay. And I’m here with you while you get there,” Steve promises. Eddie grins lazily. 

“You’re a big ol’softie Steve Harrington. Glad we met officially, and you weren’t the dickhead I thought you were.” 

“Right back at you Ed’s.” 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,362 Pairing: Teenage!Daryl Dixon x Teenage!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: mainly pre-outbreak Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse, violence A/N: Angsty and fluffy and angsty and fluffy! AGH! Summary: Daryl and Y/N are close growing up. Y/N knows about his bad home life and worries when Daryl doesn't show up at school one day.

Your name: submit What is this?

You were kicking a rock down the road, humming some stupid song you’d heard on the radio, when there was a familiar voice from behind you.

“Hey.”

You turned and grinned, knowing immediately who it was before you even saw him. “Daryl,” you said warmly. “Hey.”

He had his hands shrugged into the pockets of his secondhand black jeans. “What’re ya doin’?”

You laughed and shrugged. “I dunno. Wasting time. Kicking rocks.” You tucked your hair behind your ear and took him in. You could tell immediately that something was bothering him. “You okay?”

How did you always know? Even when he was trying his hardest to hide it, you always knew. “Yeah, just—” he chewed his bottom lip in that anxious habit he had. “Water got shut off again. My old man didn’t pay the bill.”

Your expression turned a bit sad and you nodded. It was mid-summer and the Georgia heat and humidity was suffocating. They never had air conditioning at the Dixon house, but no A/C and no water was a big problem. “Come on,” you said, tilting your head in the direction of your house down the street. “You want to come hang at my house for a while?”

Daryl considered your bright and open expression and then nodded. “Thanks.”

You nodded. “Of course. C’mon. My momma is workin’ the night shift so she won’t be home until God-only-knows-when. Ya can stay as long as ya like,” you said. Daryl fell into stride beside you.

“Thanks,” he said again.

“Sure.” You nudged him with your shoulder playfully. “Ya want me to help you with the Algebra homework?”

He rolled his eyes at you. “No.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl. You’re way smarter than you think. If you’d just try—”

“Why? Ain’t like I’m gonna go off to some big fancy college like you,” he said, kicking a rock along. It skipped on the gravel and stopped in front of you.

“Ya could. If ya wanted to,” you said, hitting the rock again with the toe of your boot. It went skipping along the road in front of you again.

“How the hell would I pay for that?”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “There’s financial aid. Scholarships.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t no college givin’ me a scholarship the way my grades are.”

“That’s why I said try,” you replied gently.

“Nah. Ain’t happenin’.”

You always felt so sad when Daryl talked about his future as an inevitable dead end. You knew he wanted to get away from his drunk asshole of a father and you also knew that he had plenty of reasons why he couldn’t focus on his schoolwork. Hard to focus on class when you’re wondering when your next meal or beating is coming… But you saw so much brilliance in him that he refused to see in himself. You decided to drop the subject for now and simply glanced over at him. His blue eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile. “Ya hungry?” you asked, kicking the rock down the road again.

He avoided your eyes again but nodded. “Always. That even a question?” he drawled.

You turned onto the driveway of your house and soon climbed the steps, pulling open the front door and nudging your head toward the cool interior. “We’ve got chicken pot-pie in the fridge,” you said. “Ya can have the rest of it. I swear, it’s the only thing my mom has been buyin’ lately.”

A short time later, you were flopped down watching TV while Daryl sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the front of the couch. His empty dish was sitting on the coffee table and you jumped up and grabbed it as a commercial came on. “Ya want some more?”

He looked up at you and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Nah. I think three helpings was enough,” he said, pushing his dirty hair out of his face. “Thanks…” he said, a little more bashfully.

You nodded. “Sure.” Daryl climbed to his feet and followed you into the kitchen. He watched you set his dishes in the sink and then fill up two glasses with ice water, putting one down in front of him. He felt your eyes on his face and glanced up to meet them. “You wanna clean up while you’re here?” you asked.

He shook his head and glanced back down at the glass in his hands. “Nah. S’alright.”

You prodded him gently. “Ya sure? It’s not a big deal. I can wash your clothes and you can shower. I was gonna do some laundry anyway. Probably have somethin’ you can wear til they’re dry. Promise it ain’t a sundress,” you joked. You glanced at the clock. “We’ve got some time to kill before tonight’s terrible monster movie comes on anyway,” you said brightly. That was your thing; watching old monster movies from the ‘50s and ‘60s. You weren’t even sure how it had started, but it was just what you did together.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He hazarded a glance back up at you. He was always so grateful for how you saw him, looked at him. Your expression never suggested anything other than open acceptance and genuine care. Finally, he nudged his nose up at you. “Alright. You win,” he said, downing the rest of his ice water quickly. “Let’s go pick out my sundress,” he said, eliciting a laugh from you.

Daryl followed you upstairs and you grabbed a clean towel for him out of the linen closet. “Hang on a sec. I’m sure there’s something in Brody’s room you can wear.” Your older brother was away at college. You returned a moment later with some clean clothes and thrust them at him. “You know where the bathroom is. Since I will puke if I eat any more pot-pie again this week, I’m gonna make popcorn. Just put your dirty clothes outside the bathroom door and I’ll throw ‘em in the wash.” You turned to head back downstairs and Daryl found himself watching you go until you disappeared.

“Hey, don’t watch the movie without me!” he called after you.

“Well then hurry up!” you called back up. Daryl smiled.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A short while later, you and Daryl were side by side on the couch. His clothes were tumbling in the dryer and now that he was clean, he realized just how dirty he had felt before. You were both munching on some popcorn from a huge bowl sitting between the two of you on the couch. Daryl always teased you about how much you made at once.

“Christ, are ya eatin’ this for your next four meals?”

You would pull a face at him. “No. Just for dinner. And knock it off or you don’t get any.”

Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the damsel in distress on screen run from some deep woods swamp creature, your knees pulled onto the couch and bent underneath you to the side. “I don’t understand this—if somethin’ is chasin’ you why would you run in a straight line, completely visible!? At least take a turn every now and again! I mean, look at all that thick brush she could disappear into!”

Daryl let out a small laugh. “That’s what your problem is? There’s a 9 foot tall, muck-man chasin’ her and that’s what ya take issue with?” he drawled.

You turned and gave him a manufactured look of annoyance and chucked a handful of popcorn at him, eliciting a gruff laugh. “You know what I mean!” you said. You heard the washer stop spinning and went to change the laundry over into the dryer, chucking one more handful of popcorn at Daryl as you got up.

“Hey!” He brushed the popped kernels off his shirt. “Ya know I’m gonna retaliate eventually and it’s gonna be much worse!” he yelled after you.

You laughed as you started the dryer. “Oh, I’m real scared! What’re you gonna do, Dixon?” You appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with your arms crossed over your chest and not looking the least bit intimidated.

“I’ll think of somethin’,” he said. “C’mon. Movie’s back on.”

You rushed back to the couch and moved the popcorn bowl onto the coffee table, sinking down in the empty space now beside Daryl.

He couldn’t stop glancing over at you and he felt suddenly fidgety, chewing on his bottom lip and practically having to sit on his hands to keep them still. Luckily, you didn’t seem to noticed, and it wasn’t too much longer before you laid down on the throw pillow at the other end of the couch, curled up with your eyes still on the screen. And not much longer after that before Daryl noticed you were asleep. The first movie was over, and some old rerun of The Blob was no playing.

Daryl noticed goosebumps on your arms and wondered if you were cold from the A/C vent blowing overhead, just in your t-shirt and shorts. He grabbed a quilt from the chair nearby and tried to cover you up without waking you.

But you stirred as soon as you felt the fabric on your arm and sat partially up, blinking awake and meeting his blue eyes, which seemed care-free for once and brighter than expected in the dim light from the television screen. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Was tryin’ not to wake ya up.”

You sat up all the way, clutching the quilt over your lap and looked up at him. “Thanks. What time is it?” Daryl glanced over at the time on the VCR.

“S’late. I should go… Let ya get some sleep,” he said.

“Oh, your clothes,” you said, climbing to your feet. You went to the laundry room and grabbed his freshly cleaned clothes from the dryer. “Go ahead and get changed and just leave those in the bathroom.”

While Daryl was changing, you went to the kitchen and filled up a water bottle with ice and cold water from the tap. He came out, looking much more like himself now that he was out of your brother’s old shorts and t-shirt. “Here,” you said, pushing the water bottle toward him. “In case you get thirsty on the walk home,” you said giving him a small smile.

He gave you a long look and seemed like he was on the edge of saying something, but he couldn’t get the words out and simply nudged his nose up in a nod at you. You always thought of the littlest things to make his life less shitty and did them for him without hesitation. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing the bottle. “I’ll give it back to ya tomorrow.”

He started toward the front door and you followed to walk him out.

He turned on the entryway rug, his hand on the handle. “Hey, tell your mom ‘thanks for the food’ when you see her in the mornin’, okay?”

You nodded. “Sure thing. You walkin’ tomorrow?” You already knew the answer. He always made the half hour walk to school, and you did it together most days.

“Duh,” he said, one corner of his mouth flicking up. “Ya comin’?”

“Duh,” you returned with a wide smile. Daryl felt his heart jump.

“Alright. See ya then. Thanks. Night.” He pushed out onto the porch and you caught the screen door as he ran down the steps.

“G’night,” you called after him. He turned and waved one last time over his shoulder and then he was gone into the still darkness outside. The cicadas seemed to grow louder as you stood there, and it was a fitting soundtrack to the immediate rise in your anxiety after Daryl disappeared. They seemed to grow so loud they were almost defeaning. You always worried about him when he went home. There was no way to know whether his dad would be passed out drunk or waiting up angry. You knew sometimes Daryl would just wait outside in the dark until he could either sneak in through a window or until he was sure his father was asleep or too drunk to move. Your heart ached. You wished more than anything that you could just fix it. He deserved so much better… You were always amazed that his heart still was so good considering all the bullshit he had been through, losing his mother and their home, his brother running off, and all the shit he was still going through. Sure, he could be angry and moody at times, but who wasn’t at your age?

Finally you sighed and closed up the house, heading upstairs to try and catch some sleep before school the next day.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were finishing packing lunch when your mom came down, still in her scrubs from the hospital. “Morning, mom,” you said. She came over and gave you a hug and left a kiss in your hair. “How was the shift?” you asked, grabbing a banana off the counter.

“Oh, just the usual. Nothing exciting. Lots of old people.” She was a nurse and always worked the night shift. She yawned and grabbed a mug and put on the tea kettle. “I’m exhausted. Mr. Jones came in again needing to be back on oxygen. Pneumonia again.”

“Oh, no…” you said, glancing at her. “Did he throw things again this time?”

She let out a wry laugh. “Of course he did! Nearly took my head off with a damn bed pan.”

“Seriously?! I hope it was empty!” you exclaimed, and you both dissolved into laughter.

“Luckily, it was. Or I would not be in such a good mood this morning… What’d you get up to yesterday? How was school?”

“School was fine. Daryl came over for a while. We watched some terrible Swamp Thing movie of course,” you said.

Your mom laughed and opened the box of tea and grabbed a tea bag. “You two. I do not understand your obsession with those monster movies from my generation,” she said.

“I dunno. They’re funny. Anyway… I gotta go. Gonna meet Daryl to walk to school.” You kissed her cheek and grabbed your things. “Love you! Get some sleep!”

You rushed to the spot where you and Daryl usually met up to walk to school, but were surprised to see that he wasn’t there. He was always there waiting before you. You dropped your bookbag, checking inside to make sure you had grabbed your lunch and the second one you always packed for him… And then you waited. And you waited. And waited… But there was no sign of him. And now you were worried. Maybe he’d gone ahead for some reason? He had never done that before. But soon you knew that if you didn’t leave, you’d be late for class, so you hastily scribbled a quick note on a sheet of notebook paper and left it under a rock at your meeting spot before heading to school.

You looked for him as you made your way through the halls to your locker, but you didn’t see his familiar silhouette anywhere. And he wasn’t in any of the classes you usually had together. At lunch you couldn’t focus on any of your friends’ conversations because you were so busy worrying about where the hell he was…

Over the course of the day, you felt sicker and sicker. You made sure to grab materials for him in all the classes you had together so he could get caught up on what he missed, and by the time the final bell rang you were determined to see him and make sure he was okay. You hastily waved goodbye to your friends and started the walk home, but instead of going straight there, you paused at the meeting spot where you usually met Daryl and saw that the note you had left that morning was still sitting underneath the rock. You collected it and shoved it hastily into your pocket. You stared up the dirt road that led into the woods and to the Dixon house. You took a deep breath in and tried to hold onto your courage as you turned up the path.

It was strange how the trees seemed to insulate from sounds of the outside, but amplify everything taking place inside the woods. You startled when a crow let out a raspy caw and took off nearby, the beating of its wings so loud in your ears that you could hear the hurried rush of the air through its feathers. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you came at last to the muddy driveway that led up to the dilapidated little trailer house. The ‘No Trespassing’ sign burned red in your peripheral vision as you carefully picked your way between the puddles and deep mud, trying not to sink your shoes into it up to your ankles.

You gulped and hesitated at the front step, but you forced in a breath and knocked.

Your heart was racing and you could feel your pulse in your fingers and toes as heavy bootsteps and cursing sounded from inside the house. The inside door was yanked open and an imposing man stood there, separated from you only by the thin screen door.

He glared at you, his lips almost curling into a sneer immediately. “Didn’t you see the goddamn sign?! Get the hell outta here! I don’t want whatever the fuck you’re selling!” he growled. He was tall and lean, but looked powerful and you gulped, suddenly thinking that maybe this wasn’t a great plan…

“I’m—” you had to clear your throat. Your voice came out quiet and somewhat strangled the first time. “I’m not selling anything, sir. I’m—I’m a friend of your son. Is he here?”

Mr. Dixon let out a scoff and never quit staring at you like he could snap at any second and come rushing through that screen door. “My boy ain’t got no friends. He’s too damn worthless. You got the wrong house,” he said, turning to slam the door already.

You weren’t sure where you got the courage from but you quickly shouted to stop him. “I don’t have the wrong house, Mr. Dixon! I’m—I’m a friend of Daryl’s. Please. Is he here? I just have some, um, school work for him…”

He stared at you again for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. They were sharp. “He ain’t here.” You were sweating with nerves under his gaze. “You goddamn women are only good for one thing, and I know he ain’t man enough to be getting any tail, so I don’t care why you say you’re here, but it ain’t no good reason. Now get the fuck off my property!”

You felt your face burn, some combination of anger, humiliation, and shock at being talked to that way by a grown man. You decided to try one last time. “Are you sure he’s not—”

Daryl’s father kicked the screen door hard and it flew open violently. You jumped back and let out a small scream of surprise and fear. He stepped out onto the stairs, his hands clenched into fists, and you could see that he was wavering a little on his feet, drunk, but also shaking with rage. “I got a goddamn shotgun sitting right inside here and I won’t be waitin’ much longer to use it unless you get the hell outta here right now!”

You quickly turned tail and ran, not caring at all that you were sloshing through muddy puddles up to your shins on your way back onto the dirt road and away from the house. You ran all the way back to the spot where you and Daryl usually met up before collapsing onto the grass. You shut your eyes and pressed your hands over your face for a moment. “Shit… shit.” It suddenly occurred to you that maybe going there had been entirely the wrong move. What if going to his house and asking about him got him in trouble? What if you had just endangered him more than he already had been? You felt tears burning in your eyes and blinked them away, popping back up onto your feet, which were squishing in your mud-soaked socks and shoes, and you trudged the rest of the way home.

It had felt like the longest evening of your life. You’d drifted around your house, hoping Daryl would come bounding up the porch steps at any moment, ready with some sarcastic comment or that quick twitch of a smile. But he didn’t. You knew your mom usually took a break around 8 pm, and you called the hospital, needing to hear her voice.

“Hi, honey. Is everything okay?”

You anxiously bounced your knee, feeling like you were about to cry again.

“…honey? Are you okay?” Now there was worry in your mom’s voice too.

“I’m—I’m okay. It’s just—Daryl wasn’t at school today… We had planned to walk together and he never showed up, and then—he wasn’t in any of our classes…” you trailed off. Your mom knew Daryl’s home life was bad, but you’d never told her how bad. Daryl had made it clear plenty of times that he didn’t want you telling anyone—not your mom, not the school counselors, not his teachers, not the cops, no one.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You twirled the phone cord anxiously around your finger, winding and unwinding. “Well, maybe he was just sick today,” your mom offered.

“Mom, Daryl doesn’t get sick.” You chewed your bottom lip. “When Daryl gets ‘sick’ it’s because—because stuff at home has gone really wrong.”

Her silence on the other end of the line was heavy until she finally sighed. “I wondered. I mean, I’m a nurse for Pete’s sake. It’s not like I didn’t see the signs. Oh, honey… and how could anyone ever lay a hand on that boy? He’s got a heart of gold.” Her voice was low and sad.

“I know… What—what do we do?”

“I suppose, unfortunately, we just have to wait and see if he’s back tomorrow. It’s only one day… If he’s not at school tomorrow, you tell me and I will deal with it,” she said. “Try not to worry yourself too much, hun. I’m sure he’s fine.” But her tone was half-hearted and you were unconvinced. Your stomach twisted as you thought about more endless hours of waiting ahead. “I gotta get back to work, sugar. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good night at work.”

“Love you,” she cooed.

“Love you too,” you said. You hung up and your house had never felt emptier.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come, when you thought you heard something on your window. Your first thought was that a cicada or other insect had flown into the window. It was a small plink sound against the glass. But when it happened again, you shot upright in bed. And then it came again. You rushed over to the light switch and flipped it on and then went to the window and pulled back the curtains.

You could barely see a familiar silhouette by the dim glow of the porch light. You hastily pushed the window open. “Daryl?”

“Hey.”

“Just—just hang on! I’ll come let you in!” You raced downstairs and clicked on the hall light, unlocking and throwing the front door wide open. He was standing on the steps and you could see that one of his eyes was almost swollen shut and was surrounded by angry bruising. “Oh my God.” You felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. “Daryl…” you stepped back to let him in.

He strode in past you, ducking his head a bit. “Yeah. He’s usually pretty careful about hiding ‘em. Guess his hand slipped on that one…”

You closed the front door and locked it again, turning to take him in. Daryl watched your eyebrows knit together and form a deep worry line in your forehead. The next second you had thrown your arms around him in a hug, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “I was so worried about you!”

You heard him let out a strained exhale, a wince really, even as his hands landed on your back and he hugged you back. You pulled back suddenly and Daryl’s hands slipped onto the bare skin of your upper arms. “You’re hurt worse?” you asked him, looking up into his bruised face.

His hands dropped from you and you both lamented the break in contact. Daryl ducked his head again. “M’fine. What the hell were you thinkin’ comin’ to my damn house? Are ya crazy?” But you could see that he was almost smiling as he said it.

“I was thinking that I needed to know you were okay,” you said, turning and leading the way into the kitchen, flicking the light on as you went. “You heard that?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding. “I was—I couldn’t get to ya.”

You nodded, your expression sad and overwhelmed with worry. “Your dad is…”

“A bastard,” he said, sinking down onto one of the chairs at the table. “Ya. I know. M’sorry ya had to go through that.”

You looked at him with consternation. “Are you kidding? You’re apologizing to me? Daryl…” You went to the freezer and grabbed out a bag of frozen vegetables and wrapped it in a clean dish towel. “Here. Put this on your face,” you said.

Daryl mumbled a thank you and pressed the makeshift cold pack over his eye. He was wearing a black t-shirt and as you stood beside him you noticed some dark spots on the material. You gulped. “Daryl…”

“Hmm?” he glanced over at you and saw that your eyes were fixed on his back. His stomach twisted. “S’nothin’,” he said.

You gave him a skeptical and deeply concerned glance. “Let me see,” you said gently.

He dropped the ice pack from his eye again and hesitated for a moment, nervously licking his lips and bouncing his knee. He trusted you, more than anyone, but this was still hard… Finally, he set down the ice pack and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it off over his head, wincing as he moved.

When the light cotton was pulled clear, you saw that his entire torso, his ribs, his sides, his back, all a cruel dark purple with shades of black and blue. Across his back were raised lashes, some open and bleeding, the reason for the dark spots you had seen on his t-shirt. He sat there with his eyes turned down and his shoulders slumped forward.

You couldn’t help it. The tears just started streaming out as you looked at what had been done to him.

“Hey,” he said, turning toward you a little, hearing your hitched breathing. His blue eyes landed on your face, took in your desperate expression. “S’alright,” he drawled softly.

Those words only made the tears pour out faster. “I should be saying that to you—” you managed. “But I don’t even know if that’s true. Daryl, you can’t keep livin’ there with him. He could kill you one of these times.”

He gulped. He knew you were right. Of course he did… “Where the hell am I supposed to go? Run off and find Merle? Go into the system? Because you and I both know neither of those are gonna work.”

You hastily wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Here. You can come here. I can talk to my mom—”

“Nah. Nah, ya’ve already done enough for me. Ya do enough. Christ, Y/N, ya pack me a damn lunch every day. I eat dinner here more nights than not.”

“It’d be fine! My mom loves you! And—and so do I,” you said quietly. You felt nervous flutters in your stomach. You’d never told him that before, but it was true.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to your face again and he gulped.

“You’d be safe here. And taken care of the way ya deserve to be,” you said.

Part of him wanted that more than anything. He wanted to agree and escape from the shit life he was living in that shit house with his shit father. But the idea of being a burden, and he truly believed that’s all he would be, the sense that he wasn’t worth it was so engrained in him that he rebelled against that other part of him that wanted to reach out for help, for escape. He avoided your glassy eyes again and shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, with no small amount of effort.

You felt like your heart was breaking. “Why not?”

He wouldn’t look at you. You just wanted him to look up at you. You wanted to see his blue eyes and convince him. But he wouldn’t. “I just can’t…”

“Daryl—”

“No! It—it ain’t your job to save me, alright? And I ain’t—I ain’t your burden! Just leave it alone.”

“You’re not a burden.” You tried to swallow the tightness in your throat but it didn’t work. You sniffled and wiped the tears from your cheeks again. You’d pushed him enough. You let it drop. “Is he gonna know you’re gone?”

Daryl replaced the ice pack on his swollen and bruised eye. “Nah. He’s on his next bender now. He’ll be so drunk he can’t see straight for at least the next few days.”

You nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you patched up and somethin’ to eat,” you said quietly. You filled a glass with ice water and grabbed the lunch you had packed for him that day from the fridge, setting them down in front of him at the table. You grabbed his bloodstained t-shirt and murmured a soft “I’ll be right back.”

After throwing in some more laundry, his shirt with it, you climbed the stairs and retrieved the First Aid kit from under the sink in your bathroom. You paused for a moment, leaning heavily on your hands, gripping the edge of the basin so hard your knuckles were white. You glanced up at your pale and somewhat wide-eyed expression and wiped a few more stray tears away, steeling yourself. You needed to just be strong for him. You knew he was trying his hardest to hold himself together and you going to pieces wouldn’t help anything. You’d spoken your piece and there was nothing else to do at that moment besides care for him.

You came down with a pile of supplies and dumped them on the kitchen table next to him.

Daryl seemed frozen, still as stone, holding the ice pack to his eye and occasionally drinking for the glass of water you’d given him. You grabbed a washcloth and wet it with some alcohol. Daryl twitched a little as your fingers landed lightly on his bare shoulder.

You withdrew for a moment after he startled. “Sorry,” you said, replacing your hand gently. “This is gonna sting,” you said.

“Can’t be worse than it is now,” he said quietly.

You could tell his wounds hadn’t been tended to at all and it took you some time to carefully clean the dried blood from them, dabbing gently at the raw skin and cuts. You worked in silence and Daryl nervously bounced his leg and spun the water glass on the ring of condensation it had shed onto the table.

After you were satisfied that they were clean, you grabbed some ointment and spread it over the entire length of each as gently as you could. Your stomach twisted as you stepped back and took in the whole view of his wounds and bruises. “Alright. Done.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Here. Take some of these,” you said, putting a bottle of Advil in front of him. “I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain.”

You moved around in front of him and sank down on a chair, sighing. Your brow was still knit and Daryl read the worry still on your face. “M’alright,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. You’re not.” You paused and grabbed the makeshift ice pack, replacing it in the freezer before nudging your head toward the staircase in the hall. “C’mon. You’re stayin’ here with me tonight.”

Daryl’s brow quirked down and he briefly chewed his bottom lip. “…Why?”

“Because it’s safe. And I just can’t let you go back there. And you need real sleep and we both know that you won’t get that if you’re under the same roof as him.”

Daryl considered your determined expression and finally nodded. “Alright.” He stood up, wrapping an arm around his ribs as they ached when he moved, and followed you up the stairs. You flicked the lights off as you went.

The door to your bedroom was standing open and Daryl hesitated at the threshold as you pulled the blankets back on your bed. You tossed an extra pillow down next the one already at the head of the bed.

Daryl gulped, nerves at the thought of staying with you so close all night suddenly overwhelming the aches and pains running through him. “I’ll take the floor,” he drawled.

You shot him a quizzical look. “You’re not taking the floor,” you said. “You’re covered in bruises. Come on. You take the other side. Just shut the door behind you.”

After shifting his weight a bit nervously for a moment, he finally crossed the threshold and shut the door softly behind him. You settled down in bed, heaving a sigh as your head hit the pillow. Daryl gingerly laid down on the other side, facing in toward you. His eyes met yours as he settled in, wincing a little as he moved his arm up under the pillow. You were close together, your faces merely six inches apart and Daryl could see your eyes flitting over his face.

“Ya sure this is alright?” he drawled quietly. “Yer mom…”

You shrugged. “She won’t even know. It’s okay.”

Daryl licked his lips absently and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Daryl looked puzzled.

“It’s not fair,” you went on. “That someone as good as you has this happening to them.”

Daryl gulped nervously again, your words kindling a rush of heat in his chest which seemed to spill into his face. “Ain’t yer fault.”

You nodded, looking a bit sad, but beautiful in the warm glow of the single lamp on your nightstand. You turned and clicked it off, and maybe it was the darkness that gave you the courage to, but you reached over and found Daryl’s hand with yours in the dark and slipped yours beneath it, pressing your palm to his.

Daryl felt his stomach flip with surprise but he thrilled at the grounding touch from you. For once stopping himself from overthinking it, he laced his fingers with yours, and soon both of you were asleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Some years later

“Don’t fucking move.”

Daryl froze, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth.

“Put your hands up where I can see them. Away from the bow.” The voice belonged to a woman and despite the tense and potentially dangerous situation he now found himself in, Daryl felt his stomach flip, seemingly responding to the voice peculiarly.

“Stand up.” Daryl obeyed and stood up slowly, in disbelief that he hadn’t heard whoever the hell this was approaching in the almost silent woods. That left him feeling particularly curious and a little uneasy. He didn’t like that anyone was able to sneak up on him�� “Now turn around. Slowly.”

Again, Daryl complied, his hands still up, turning slowly to face toward the woman holding him at gunpoint.

But neither him nor you expected the person in front of you and you felt a tug somewhere behind your navel and the muzzle of your gun dropped involuntarily just as your mouth fell partially open. You felt like the air was ripped out of your lungs as you took in the familiar face in front of you. “What the hell?” The words fell from your lips without you even knowing it. But you would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. You lowered your gun the rest of the way. “D—Daryl?”

He finally dropped his hands his eyes narrowed and intense. “Are ya gonna shoot me?” he drawled. His voice was deep and gruff and you felt goosebumps rising on your skin. One corner of his mouth flicked up in the same way it always had back when you were kids.

You gulped, your hands still on your pistol. “Do I need to?”

He let out a gruff laugh. “Nah. I dun think so.”

You holstered your gun, still paralyzed, your boots seemingly rooted into the soil.

Daryl was the first one to move. He rushed over to you and hugged you almost desperately, but you were still in such a state of shock that by the time you moved to return it he was already breaking away. Your eyes were searching as you looked at him and he just peered back at you with that classic Daryl Dixon stare.

“S’real fuckin’ good to see you, Y/N,” he said. He bent and picked up his crossbow, swinging it over himself and onto his back in a fluid and well-practiced movement. He tilted his head at you. “Why the hell did ya stick me up, hmm?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of your reverie, actually shaking your head slightly. “Uhh—My camp is near here. I don’t like strangers,” you said absently, still unable to trust your eyes that this man standing in front of you was the boy from your past. “Daryl—” You weren’t even sure where to start but you suddenly felt a swell of anger. “Daryl, what the fuck?” you demanded.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

“I—I thought—you just—you left! You were just gone!” Before you knew it there were tears spilling out onto your cheeks and your anger was rising. “What the fuck!?” you yelled at him. You rushed toward him and pushed him hard in the chest. He simply took it and staggered backwards. “Why did you do that?! You didn’t even say goodbye to me! You didn’t tell me you were leaving, you didn’t tell me anything! You just—you were just gone! Do you know what I thought? Do you have any idea?!” You shoved him again and still he just took it and stepped back to regain his balance. “I thought maybe you were dead!” The tears were pouring out more quickly onto your cheeks and you reached out to shove him back again, but this time he gently caught your arm and held it. His eyes were soft and you crumbled underneath them. “I thought maybe you were dead. I thought your dad—” you gasped in a heaving breath.

“M’sorry,” he said. You stared at him, fighting emotion. “M’sorry,” he said again. He gently tugged you closer to him and you allowed it. “M’so sorry.”

You fell into him and felt his arms wrap around you as you squeezed your eyes shut. “M’sorry, Y/N,” he whispered to you. His hands flattened out on your back and smoothed over it and he held you until were able to stop yourself from crying. You straightened up, hastily wiping the tear streaks off your cheeks.

You laughed a little wryly at yourself. “This is so stupid. I’m—I’m crying over something that happened over a decade ago,” you murmured.

“S’cuz it still feels like it just happened yesterday. Ain’t stupid,” he said.

You took him in for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You brought Daryl back to your camp and you both did you best to catch the other up one what life had been like since those hazy summer high school days. Most of it didn’t seem to matter anymore now that the world was what it was—all nightmarish and broken. But there was one question you had to ask him as you sat by the campfire that night.

“If you could do it over,” you hesitated, “would you do the same thing?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, a questioning noise.

“Would you just leave, like you did? Or would you do it differently?”

Daryl considered you quietly for a long moment. He had always thought you were beautiful and that hadn’t changed. He had always known you were kind and smart and caring and funny… and that hadn’t changed either, despite the hell around you now. And he still felt like there was a string, a golden thread that led from his heart to yours, tying the two of you together, and that still felt connected. It had never been cut. Not after all the time and all the distance. “I ask myself that just about every day. Think about ya every day,” he said, feeling a bit bashful under the gaze of your brilliant eyes. He turned back to stare at the crackling fire in front of you both. “I dunno if it woulda turned out any better or worse, or even any different but—I do regret not havin’ ya around all this time. Maybe my biggest regret in life.” He glanced up at you again and marveled at your thoughtful, open, and slightly sad expression.

You nodded subtly. “Mine too.”

“The reason I didn’t come tell ya I was leavin’—” he hesitated, biting his bottom lip anxiously. “Is because I knew ya’d try to stop me. I knew ya’d ask me to stay… and if—if ya asked me that, there would be no way I could go.”

You gave him a sad smile and had to blink away the glistening moisture in your eyes again. You cleared your throat and nodded. “I’m still mad at you,” you joked softly.

He let out a small laugh. “Thas fair…” Daryl rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So, yer really alone out here?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Well, I’ve got a group. Good people. Family. If ya wanted to, ya can come back with me. Yer—yer family too. I promise they’re all good people,” he drawled. He watched you carefully, anxiously trying to read your reaction.

You nodded slowly. “I trust you,” you said.

He cleared his throat, feeling a swell of happiness at your response. “I won’t leave ya again,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Ya better not.”

[moonlightlullaby]

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!) 

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist. 

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is. 

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair. 

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me. 

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. 

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is. 

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words. 

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp. 

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath. 

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds. 

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task. 

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie. 

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul. 

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n” 

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully. 

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?” 

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?” 

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered. 

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise. 

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions. 

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-” 

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.  

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen. 

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

[writing-in-april]

Helping Hands

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After a bad case Spencer needs help shaving after getting injured, he gets help from the least likely person to help in his life.

A/N: Day two of my 750 follower celebration is here! This was totally supposed to be a blurb and ended up being so much long lol. Thank you @imagining-in-the-margins for this idea and letting me write it! And thanks to @spencers-dria for helping me out as always! This fic wasn’t originally going to be Gender Neutral I just ended up writing it that way on accident which is cool, I want my blog to be as inclusive as possible! I’ve had someone check it over for pronoun mistakes but please let me know if you spot any! This is also my first time writing in second person for Spencer!

Warnings: 18+, Enemies to lovers, Knife kink (use of a straight razor), Dry fucking, Humiliation, ONE slight nick to the skin- there’s just a very small bit of blood

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.68k

Your friendship with Spencer was shaky at best, the truth was you two were barely able to work together without biting each other’s heads off. It’s not that you wanted to butt heads with him almost every day, but when he picked apart everything you said constantly you always felt the need to bite back.

Emily just had to put you as roommates for this case so you guys could ‘work out your issues.’ Of course the case then ended up becoming one of your longest cases all year. The tension between you and Spencer ran high throughout the entire case, the petty arguments grew in rate as the team got less and less sleep each day. The case combined with the sleeping arrangements was definitely making you feel miserable.

Unfortunately these hellish two weeks didn’t even end with a completely good outcome. We had caught the unsub, but not before one of your own had ended up injured. Spencer had been securing the perimeter around the suspect’s house when the suspect (who ended up being the unsub) attacked him. Luckily, you hadn’t been that far away from him and were able to help him apprehend the man. You may butt heads with him almost every working day, but he was still a part of your team. You would never want him to be seriously hurt or worse. His knuckles ended up getting bruised and bloodied from his unexpected scuffle with the unsub today although he insisted he was fine.

The sight you were looking at now directly contradicted his words. His fingers were shaking badly as he tried to move his straight razor along his jaw that was coated in shaving cream. When he let out a frustrated grunt when he couldn’t get the right angle you decided to try and lend a helping hand. He seemed to get even angrier when you walked into the hotel’s bathroom, this wasn’t new however, he always seemed to get more agitated when he sensed your presence.

“Let me help you.” You snapped while reaching forward to grab the razor, your movements were in stark contrast to your words, only doing that softly as to not cut the both of you.

“Why do you want to help me?” He snapped back with just as much bite in his tone and jerked his hand away so you could not reach the razor.

“Does it matter? You need help and I’m offering to help. So sit down and let me help.”  The real reason that you wanted to help didn’t have to be known by Spencer, he didn’t have to know that you felt guilty. His injuries were from no fault of your own however, you could not help a little bit of guilt pool in the bottom of your stomach. You may not like him very much, but again you did not want to see him hurt.

He finally acquiesced to your request sitting down on the edge of the tub that just had enough of a ledge so he could sit rather comfortably. You reached out and gestured towards the razor letting out a little sigh of relief when he handed it to you, glad that he was finally letting you help.

The handle of the razor was simple in design with no ornaments adorning it and it was made of a dark wood, perhaps mahogany. The simple design of the handle and blade did not mean that it was inexpensive, the weight in your hand alone was a testament of how finely made it probably was. You suspected it might have been one of the only things Spencer splurged his money on.

Soaping up his cheeks again, you then straddled his thighs so you could get as close as possible to him. He squeaked a little in surprise at your sudden willingness to be close to him. In all honesty, you didn’t really want to be that close to him, but you had promised to help him, this just was the only way you could get the correct angles.

Besides the initial squeak the fell from his lips Spencer had become strangely quiet as you got to work shaving off his stubble.

His silence was then replaced by something else, the inability to sit still. Each time you started to scrap the razor against his jaw his hips shuffled under you, making it extremely difficult to get a close enough shave.

“Stop squirming.” He of course felt the need to again not listen to you and he continued to squirm underneath you. You ran your fingers through his hair then tugging on the stands to crane his neck backwards so you could get full access to the underside of his jaw. He defiantly squirmed again, causing you to falter with the razor again, this time accidentally nicking the underside of his jaw.

Instead of hissing and pulling away from you would expect; Spencer threw you for a loop when he let out a loud moan while jutting his hips up into your own. A look of mortification came over Spencer’s face at his actions, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but with your body straddling him he couldn’t quite escape your grasp so easily.

You weren’t going to lie, Spencer was an attractive man, your favorite part of his looks being his fluffy locks and the scruff he left behind after shaving. You weren’t going to pass up the opportunity of having an attractive man underneath you and begging. Experimentally you reached up with your free hand to brush up against the small nick that had only let out just a little drop of blood. Pushing down slightly on it you then rolled your hips to grind against his hardening cock in his slacks. His response to your actions pleased you, his slacks becoming more strained and another moan left his lips, this one much more high pitched.

“Are you ok with this? I won’t be gentle.”

“Yes, please do whatever you want.” You were pleasantly surprised how quickly a plea fell from his lips. It was going to be so easy to ruin him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop. You may infuriate me, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable.” He nodded quickly in understanding before tentatively moving his hands to rest on your hips lightly to make sure you were ok with his touch and so that his hands didn’t suffer from any unnecessary pain.

You were right, it was extremely easy to ruin him. It only took a few short minutes of grinding your hips into his own before you could tell he was getting a little close to his release.

“Is this all it takes for you to get off? That’s a little pathetic.” The humiliating words only made Spencer’s moans louder though at this point they had devolved into high pitched pitiful whimpers. You were glad he was keen on the idea of some light humiliation and decided to continue with some more harsh words, “I haven’t even gotten a chance to use it anywhere near any more exciting places yet. You’re so needy, Spencer.” The evil smirk that made its way onto your face at the thought of getting to use the razor in more, exhilarating places, made Spencer visibly gulp hard.

You shifted a little forward which brought more pleasure to you, enough to push you to teeter on the edge. As you felt your release begin to wash over you surged forward to mark up Spencer’s neck with a hickey to go along with the other slight mark you had left. The rocking of your hips sped up as you worked yourself through your blissful release. Spencer may have been one of the most infuriating people you knew, but you couldn’t deny that even with a few swirls of your hips together he gave you a stronger orgasm then most men ever had. After a few gasps of your breath into his neck after your release you began to focus on his own. You could just leave him hanging and force him to take a cold shower to alleviate the straining in his pants, though you couldn’t deny how good he had been for you.

“Beg me. Beg me to let you finish.” Carding your fingers through his hair once more you yanked hard so you could get to catch a glimpse of his gorgeous neck again. You brought the razor up to rest at the underside of his jaw close to the previous cut you had accidentally given him.

“Please!” Even though his begging was only one word, you were satisfied with how desperate he sounded for you. You had completely ruined him without even taking off a single article of clothing.

“Cum for me Spencer.” As soon as the words of permission fell from your lips, his hips started to meet yours with more vigor. His groans came impossibly louder as he neared his finish, so you surged forward to capture his lips with your own for the first time. Immediately you slipped your tongue into the cavern of his mouth, swallowing all of the noises that tried to escape. He rocked his hips forward once, twice, three times before feeling the front of his slacks dampen with his own release.

When you had both calmed down and slightly processed what you had both indulged in you separated from him to help clean up the nick on his jaw and to grab him a pair of sweatpants to change into. You returned to help him finish shaving making sure to leave the little bit of scruff you liked. As you finished he moved to rub slight circles into your hip, you didn’t let him do it for very long until you made sure that it wasn’t hurting his hands too much. You were both extremely content with your current position. Maybe he wasn’t as infuriating as you once thought. In any case you had enjoyed lending him your helping hands, maybe you could help him again if he was willing.

——

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

Spencer Reid/CM taglist- @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Sub!Spencer taglist- @thatsonezesty13- tags are not working for you for some reason!!

[laal-ishq-diaries]

showering with them || mha guys

december 26, 2020

writer’s note: nothing to say about this. little blurbs on what it’s liking showering with some mha men. i just love showering and self-indulgence. 

warnings: implied intercourse (tagged under #pyaas). descriptions of the female body. hurt/comfort. 

KAI CHISAKI ~ OVERHAUL

when kai, who usually showers all by his lonesome, requests your presence in the bathroom one evening, you know he’s craving some sweet, sweet intimacy. you head into the shower together and bask in the warmth emanating from the water for a few minutes before he pushes your back against the wall of the shower and drops to his knees in front of you. making eye contact with you, kai lathers you up with your body-wash. he starts from the soles of your feet before moving up and using his strong touch to ease out the tension from your body. by the time he’s lathering up your inner thighs and hips, you’re leaning against the shower wall with your eyes closed and in absolute bliss. your eyes snap open when you feel a cool substance being dabbed onto your cheek and realize that it’s body-wash and the damn culprit is now standing in front of you with a cheeky grin of his own. one playful huff of indignation later, you take the opportunity to wash your face—an excuse to do something other than quietly melt under his touch—as he skillfully kneads the flesh of your bottom, abdomen, and breasts. afterwards, he turns you around and presses your front into the wall in order to wash your back and arms before taking the removable showerhead and washing the suds off your entire body (all the while pressing kisses across each newly cleansed patch of skin). showering with him is a rare blessing given your busy schedules but he still makes you feel desired and every atom in your body is now screaming at you to return the favor.

KEIGO TAKAMI ~ HAWKS

you’re already in the shower when keigo comes home from a particularly stressful mission. he quickly undresses and joins you. all he does is wrap his arms and wings around your body and inhale your scent—he missed you so damn much so just let him have this for a few minutes. in return though, it is up to you to initiate any actual bathing. your arms stretch to grab shampoo (yours, because keigo loves how you smell) and massage a generous amount into his unruly hair. his satisfied coos and chirps spur you on as you wash away the physical and mental grime of the mission. as you rinse the suds and condition his hair (also, with your conditioner), he curls into your body even more and his wings twitch in satisfaction. you make a mental note to give his wings some TLC after your shower but you settle for massaging the base of his spine where his wings emanate, for now. similarly, keigo’s avian instincts urge him to take care of you; he massages body-wash into whatever skin he can reach while you are still in his embrace and nonsensically murmurs loving sentiments. i got you baby, let’s stay like this, and you’re so soft all tug on your heartstrings and, god, what you wouldn’t do for this man. go give him some love, birdboy deserves it!

SHOUTA AIZAWA ~ ERASER HEAD

this man is extremely stressed and sleep-deprived, so your showers are supposed to make him lethargic and ready to curl up in bed. these showers are in the middle of the night with the lights off; the only source of illumination in your bathroom is from the city lights and moon shining through the windows. the water is nearly on its hottest setting and the steam is fogging up the windows and mirror. there’s a thin layer of sweat on your bodies but you’re both shivering, whether from the cold only body heat can neutralize or in anticipation. shouta is clingy, but not too much. he still has an air of aloofness and mystery, and you don't know what his intentions are tonight. hell, you don’t know what your intentions are. the warm water was supposed to lull him to sleep, not your body. but you can’t complain when he kisses and strokes and bites with so much adoration and lust. you can take a proper shower in the morning; his only concern right now is intertwining with you and wearing you both out until you’re dozed off under covers.

TOUYA TODOROKI ~ DABI

surprisingly, dabi is not touchy at all. the two of you do your own thing in the shower and make a little bit of idle small talk but your backs will be to each other while bathing. other than enjoying quiet time, showering together is so emotionally intimate that dabi is truly at a loss for words. occasionally, you two will turn around and kiss each other and bump noses playfully. there is nice, soothing music in the background, which he always lets you pick because he loves making you happy (even if it’s just the little things). showering with dabi is so peaceful because this is his relaxing time away from the league of villains, hero society, and his fucked up family. it’s just him and his girl vibing. at times, he glances at you with those eyes that scream you’re the most precious thing in the world and that he’d do anything to protect you. his heart bursts even more when you end up making eye contact and smile or tilt your head in confusion. at that point, he needs to feel more of you. the touches start small—when you begrudgingly go under cold water to rinse your hair, dabi will lightly activate his quirk and rub your sides to warm you up. when you’re done showering, he’ll take your towel and pat the moisture off your body and dry your hair. in turn, you’ll gently moisturize his skin. any other time, dabi would've cracked a joke about you wanting to feel him up and being “too clingy” but not right now. he has completely lost himself in your love. there are parts of him that just want to leave this life and take you away to keep you safe. but he knows he’s too far in to walk away. and you’ve accepted that. the only time he feels in control of his circumstances are these quiet, little moments he steals with you.

[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

tag list: @jikooksgirl19 @sicnesa @buzzyourgirlfriendwoof @deepdarkdelights @iamnamjoonsbxtch @4evahevah @moon8child

[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

���Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

[tetsurouskuro]

Fire in His Eyes

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, dom!kuroo, fireman!au haikyuu, smut, unprotected sex, shower sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, fluff 

word count: 5,193

a/n: this is my submission for the Haikyuu Headquarters NSFW server collab using the prompt mirror fuck! 

the whole masterlist can be found HERE by the amazing @animewh0re​!

a huge thank you to my wifey 💖 @guessmqnster​ who made this amazing banner! everyone go and give her a follow!

also a huge thank you taylor aka @deathcab4daddy​ for helping me with beta-reading and grammar issues! super thankful 💖

now, enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated! <3

Synopsis: Kuroo is a fire fighter and your best friend. When your apartment building catches fire and burns up, Kuroo offers to let you stay at his place until you’ve found a new apartment.

MASTERLIST!

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

The background music in the small bar could be heard while other people were chatting away and making conversation. You were sat in between one work colleague and your best friend who you have known since you were a kid: Kuroo Tetsurou.

A laugh escaped his lips as he speaks to one of his friends from work. The way his eyes close and his mouth opens, and he throws his head back, in pure bliss. A smile forms on your lips as you take a sip of your drink. Pulling the straw into your mouth and sipping, feeling the sweet mix of liquor and soda hit your tongue and throat.

Just as you set your glass down on the table you feel Kuroo’s arms around your shoulder pulling you towards him. You let out squeak as he did that which made him chuckle. The faint smell of his body wash hits your nose, but also the sweet smell of his body sweat.

“Kuroo, let me go!”

“What why? I need my cuddle bear,” he chuckles again and hugs you tighter towards his own body. Your front is pressed to his side as he holds you in place or trying to. You’re a wiggling mess trying to break free from his hold on you.

“Kuroo- I- Let me go!” Your palms press against his rock-solid body and push away making him release you. Your hair got a little ruffled and you give the tall man at your side a pout.

“Aw c’mon princess, don’t give me that pout.” Princess. The nickname he has called you since you were kids. Ever since the both of you used to play prince and princess with Kenma being the bad guy.

“You’re an ass, Kuroo.”

“A sexy ass, right?”

You just roll your eyes at his comment and he smirks at you while taking a sip of his beer. The glass bottle reaching his lips as he takes a chug, and you watch as his thick throat moves as he swallows. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a sip of your drink as well, trying to contain your “innocent” thoughts of Kuroo Tetsurou.

You had always had an attraction for the tall, black-haired man and the fact that he decided to become a fire fighter didn’t make it any easier for you.

The amount of times you had seen him work out with the boys, especially Bokuto didn’t make it easy on you. The man himself was well built and he knew it. Everybody knew it. He often had a girl on his arm and for tonight at this little get together you could see the many women ogling at him, wanting some of him and the thought alone of Kuroo leaving the bar with another woman makes you anxious, jealous, and sad. Sad that you can’t have him that way.

“Oi, earth to (y/n).”

“Hmm? What?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, tired. I think I’m just gonna head home early.” Kuroo watches as you stand up and start gathering your stuff, which isn’t a lot. It’s a small handbag and your coat.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers himself and stands up, his tall frame standing by your side as he chugs the rest of his beer down and picks up his phone and wallet that’s left on the table. “Let’s go.”

You both say your goodbyes and exit the bar, Kuroo’s body close to yours as he guides you with one of his hands on your lower back.

Once outside, his hand doesn’t leave your back until you both stop near the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green so you can cross over. There’s silence surrounding both of you, neither of you talking. The sound of the light turning green makes you perch your head up and walk ahead, Kuroo following suit. Once over the very well trafficked road you turn right, towards your apartment.

“You’re quiet.” Turning your head, you see Kuroo watching you, his eyes scanning you as if he’s trying to read you.

“J-Just tired.”

“I don’t buy it, but if you wanna talk I’m here,” he smiles, and you return it. The walk to your apartment goes by fast, way too fast for your liking. You both stop at the entrance to your apartment building, turning around to say goodbye to Kuroo.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I don’t get to see you pretty and lame face that often anymore.”

“So mean,” you pout again and turn to open the door.

“Kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs. “I have the next weekend off, wanna hang at my place? Kenma is coming over too.”

“Wait, Kenma is back?”

“He arrives Thursday night.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll make sure to be available.”

“Good. Goodnight (y/n).”

“Goodnight Kuroo.” He turns and walks away. You stand and watch as he walks away, missing his presence already. Wanting to spend time with him, but also not. Being in love with your best friend is awful.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

The sound of something beeping wakes you up from your slumber, the smell of smoke filling up your nostrils. You open your eyes to your dark bedroom; still half asleep you turn on the light on your bedside table. Sitting up on the bed you head to the living room and then to the small, narrow hallway. The smell of smoke is getting stronger and you stark coughing. As you reach your front door, your right hand goes to grab the door handle but soon pull back as it’s burning hot.

What’s going on? you ask yourself and touch your wooden door, feeling it burning hot too. Then it all clicks; the building is on fire.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, what do I do? What can I do? I’m on the 8th floor. Is what’s going through your head. You then remember Kuroo’s words, what he taught you in case a fire were ever to happen. You start pounding on the door, yelling for help. The smoke was getting heavier, you could feel your lungs working hard getting oxygen. You could feel your energy slowly disappearing and your thought becoming more and more foggy. You back away from the door, your back against the wall as you slowly slide down and sit on the floor. Closing your eyes, you, fearing what might happen.

Kuroo, please save me.

“(Y/N)!!!!” A voice screams, or are you imagining things?

“(Y/N)!!!!” This time you perch your head up and look towards your door, just in time for it to break down and a familiar face pops up.

“K-Kuroo?” You cough and he looks serious, and angry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” another cough. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. Damnit, why did you stop yelling?”

“Y-You heard me?”

“Of course, I heard you princess, come here. Quickly!” You try to stand up, but your legs give out. Kuroo is quick to catch you in his arms. “God, I am so mad at you right now.”

You stay quiet as you curl your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his chest. He hugs your body close to his as he carries you bridal style out of your apartment. The smoke is heavy, and you start to cough some more, your eyes watering from the smoke burning in your eyes.

“Hold on, we’ll be outside soon,” Kuroo explains. Suddenly, there’s a cracking sound and a loud thud. Kuroo wobbles a little but continues to carry you until you reach outside. Fresh air fills your lungs and you pull your head away from Kuroo’s chest and are met with the sight blue and red lights. Fire trucks, ambulance, police, a lot of people in uniforms as they patrol the area.

Kuroo walks you towards an ambulance that is the closest to the two of you and sets you down on the ramp of the ambulance. His body pulls away from yours, and you already miss the warmth from him. You’re only wearing a thin tank top and some short pajama shorts and it being a cold summer night made you freeze, your arms wrapping around your body.

“S’cuse me, do you have a blanket for her?” You hear Kuroo ask one of the ambulance nurses and soon there’s a blanket wrapped around your freezing body. You hug it tightly to your body as Kuroo walks away and talks to what looks like his squad captain. You see Bokuto there as well. Kuroo then takes off his helmet and ruffles his hair. The sight of his crazy bed head always brings a smile to your face.

You can see how there’s a discussion between the three men, Kuroo nods his head a couple of times and points towards your apartment building, or what was your apartment.

Oh shit, all of my stuff. My phone, my ID, my wallet, my laptop. Everything is gone.

You slowly start to panic, but not for too long as a nurse starts to check up on you. How you’re oxygenating, pulse, blood pressure, respiratory rate, temperature, and then some questions. Everything turns out to be normal and the nurse lets you go. You stand up with the blanket still around you and start to walk closer to your burnt down apartment building, only then noticing that you’re barefoot.

“(y/n)?” You turn around and are immediately embraced by strong arms, the familiar scent filling your nostrils. You take a step back to look at your savior only to be met by strong, angry yet mesmerizing gaze.

“You are so lucky you’re alive. God woman you could’ve died. I thought you had already gotten out of the building.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Kuroo embraces you once again and holds you close, his chin on your head. You can feel and hear his heartbeat through his thick uniform, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“I’m glad that you’re safe. Have you already been checked you out by a nurse?”

“Y-Yeah. They checked me a minute ago. Everything was normal so I’m good to… Oh god, Kuroo my building is gone. Where the hell am I gonna live? I have no money to pay for a hotel or- “

“Whoa, okay take a deep breath (y/n). You can stay at my place.”

“I-I can. Really?” You feel yourself calm down, knowing Kuroo is offering his home to you for a couple of days, at least.

“Sure. You can pay the rent later,” he smirks, and you roll your eyes, but smile.

“Thank you.”

“No worries princess. I’ll drop you off at my place and then I need to head back to the station to work out some stuff, I’ll be home later.”

“Okay.”

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

“Oh, you’re still up?” Two hours had gone by as Kuroo finally returns. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a black tee.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” you answer him as you’re cuddled up on the sofa watching the news on his TV. Kuroo’s long legs carry him towards you and takes a seat beside you on the sofa. You immediately get butterflies in your stomach.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. I’m too tired for that.”

“Alright, well I’m gonna take one. I smell like smoke and sweat.”

“Yeah you do, I could smell your stank all the way from the elevator,” you smirk and can see Kuroo raise an eyebrow at you and then his lips form into a smirk too.

“Watch it, or I might force you into the shower with me.”

“You wouldn’t.” At those words, Kuroo suddenly has your body over his shoulder and is carrying you towards his bathroom. “Kuroo, oh my god I was kidding. Let me go.”

“You started this, now you’re gonna get it.”

“No, no, no, no. Please. Let me go.”

“I don’t think so.” Kuroo continues walking away from the living room until his feet arrive in his big bathroom, with a big shower. Glass walls covering a big space for the big shower, it could easily fit two people which made you more eager to get down and away from both him and the room.

You start to wiggle more but his grasp on you is firm; he is not letting you go.

“Kuroo. Okay, I’m sorry. I was only joking. You don’t stink, you smell nice actually. Just- NO! KUROO! AAAAAAH!” Kuroo has thrown you into the shower and started the big shower head, cold water pouring on you, hitting your head and then running all the way down to your shoulders, chest and further down.

Your hands immediately go to cover your body as you try to get away from the water. Kuroo’s tall frame is making it hard for you to escape, and he is laughing at you now.

“Kuroo.” You say his name sternly, but he doesn’t budge. He stops laughing and smirks at you. His eyes slowly trailing down your body. Kuroo watches as you tremble from the cold, he can see your nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank, your arms pushing your breast slightly upwards as you try to warm yourself up.

Kuroo gulps as he watches your body shake, his eyes fixated on your breasts. He turns around and walks to his sink. You watch as he opens the cabinet underneath the sink and start pulling out a big fluffy white towel. You just stand still and watch his back muscles work as he gathers yet another towel and places them on the sink as he stands straight again.

Kuroo turns and you lock gazes. The temperature in the shower has turned warm and you’re no longer covering your body. You’re watching him, he is watching you.

“Fuck this,” you hear him say underneath his breath and walks into the shower and pushes your body against the cold tiles making your back arch. His lips crash against yours, his tongue quickly invading your mouth. His large hands gripping your shoulders, his long fingers digging into your skin.

“Kuroo,” you moan against his lips, them never leaving yours. Your head spinning from all the endorphins that are flooding your system. Both of your eyes closed, tongues dancing with each other; feeling, loving, tasting.

Your hands grip his now wet shirt while his hands have moved to your waist, his soft hands holding you in place, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His lips then decide to pull back and you open your eyes to gaze into his hazel orbs; they’re darker than usual. Kuroo’s eyes have always had some light in them, but tonight, they’re different.

His forehead goes down until you can feel it make contact with your shoulder.

“Kuroo- “

“I want you. Fuck I want you so bad. I’ve wanted you for years and now that you’re wet and almost naked in front of my I can’t control myself,” he confesses and all you can do it stand still and listen, feeling like everything you’ve ever wanted is in front of you and now, finally you can grasp it.

Placing both hands on Kuroo’s wet chest, feeling his hard and solid chest underneath the wet material that’s hugging his body.

“Don’t hold back.” Just as you finish this sentence, his hands quickly tear your tank into pieces and squeezed both of your breasts in his palms. His mouth is back on yours in a second and you throw your arms around his neck. Pulling him closer to you, making him press both of his palms between your head, keeping you caged.

But he composes himself quickly and pulls back but only to throw his wet shirt off him. You scan his beautiful and well sculptured body and drink him in, just this makes your pussy throb for him.

The wet shirt lands on a pile next to your torn tank. Kuroo’s large hands palms your face, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The now warm water is crashing against your head, drenching your hair further. Your whole body is wet, a pool of wetness has formed in your panties from the small action of kissing Kuroo.

His lips start to kiss their way down, stopping at your chest to give your breasts some attention. His tongue circling around your nipples, making you throw your head back and moan. Fisting a handful of his wet locks in your hands.

His lips continue their way down, his index and middle fingers grab the waistband of your pajama bottoms and drag them down your legs, along with your panties, throwing them to the large pile of wet clothes that has formed outside the shower.

He stands up and throws off his slacks and briefs in one go. His semi-hard cock slaps against his lower abdomen, your eyes locked on his member that has made an entrance.

“My eyes are up here princess,” the nickname he always used on you hits different now when you’re both naked in front of each other. It feels more intimate and you love it.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth, biting down on it as you look up and meet his gaze. His eyes are watching yours, his hazel eyes filled with lust, his mind has only one thing on his mind and that is having his hard cock in-between your folds.

Kuroo takes two steps forward and now he’s in front of you, you’re eyeing his chest, but he lowers his upper body, so his face is right in front of yours.

“Be a good girl and do as I say princess.”

“O-Okay.” Kuroo lowers himself so he’s on his knees, right in front of your private parts. You feel slightly ashamed and try to cover yourself but Kuroo slaps your hands away.

“Don’t. I’m about to have my meal, don’t interrupt me princess.” With your back against the wall of his big shower, he grabs your left leg, his hands on your thigh as he throws it over his right shoulder. You lose balance for a second but regain it quickly by grabbing onto his hair.

“Hold on tight,” he throws your right leg over his other shoulder and holds your weight up with his shoulders. This makes you let out a squeal, but you are quickly silenced as his lips wrap themselves around your clit. You let out a moan and look ahead of you and to your surprise you see the both of you in his bathroom mirror that almost cover his whole bathroom wall.

You see Kuroo sucking on your clit in the mirror, his tongue leaps out now and then and flicks on it. The length of his tongue even going so far back and start to flick on your opening.

“Oh, Kuroo,” you moan. You tilt your head down and see him watching you as he continues to suck on your sensitive bud. He pulls back slightly and then spits on your clit.

“You taste so good princess,” and his mouth and tongue’s back on your cunt, sucking up all your juices. “So sweet. I’m hungry for more and I’m just getting started.”

“Fu- Kuroo. I- Shit.” His tongue licks you up and down your slit. He stops when he after some time reaches your clit and with the tip of his tongue, starts flicking it fast.

Still having all of your weight on his shoulders, he pushes his index finger inside your folds, and you can’t help but clamp around him. He adds another finger and starts thrusting them with an even tempo. His lips sucks on your bud and you feel the pressure in your abdomen increase. You’re fisting two handfuls of his hair in your palms, eyes closed, head tilted back and your back arches as you feel yourself come closer and closer to a release.

“Cum for me princess. Cum all over my tongue.” You open your eyes and look into the mirror and watch yourself cum, making a lewd face. You cum all over his tongue, filling his taste buds with your juices and Kuroo drinks you all up.

The water has made his hair all damp, it falls over his face as he stands up straight. Your legs barely holding you up after the orgasm you just experienced. He pushes his hair back and smirks at you, his hazels looking at you as he sucks the rest of your juices from his fingers.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he speaks. His voice hoarse and raw. “C’mere.” You step forward until you’re in front of him. He grabs your left arm and pulls you forward until you crash against his naked chest and his lips are instantly on yours, capturing and captivating you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips.

He holds you in his arms as he turns you around and starts walking forward, making you walk in reverse. You crash against something cold; he turns you around and you see that he has led you to the sink. Your back is against his front, he is holding your shoulders in place. He lowers his face close to your ear, and softly speaks: “Did you like watching yourself cum in the mirror princess?”

His words make your whole-body shudder and you can’t help but moan. You love this man with your whole mind, body and soul and would do anything for him, and you’d let him do anything to you at this moment.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror and you’re gonna watch me, my cock thrust inside that tight cunt of yours.”

“Mhm, Kuroo please.”

“Please what, kitten?” This new nickname has shivers covering your body and you groan, wanting his cock inside you.

“Please, I want your cock, Tetsurou.”

“Fuck (y/n),” Kuroo groans and hitches your right leg up, flashing your private parts to the mirror. “Watch as I fuck you.”

From behind Kuroo fists his cock in his palm, centers the head of his cock between your folds and lubricates both you and him with your juices.

“Kuroo, just fuck-oh!” Without warning he pushes his length inside you. His cock is big, he’s bigger that what you thought. There’s a slight burning sensation as he stretches your walls. He has stopped his motions, waiting for you to get used to his size before he starts moving.

Kuroo’s other arm goes around your body and towards your face, turning it so you’re facing him. His eyes are lust filled and he leaves a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re so tight princess,” he grunts.

He slowly thrusts out of you only for his hips to collide back with your ass, the friction of his hips hitting your bare skin making a loud smacking noise to echo in his big bathroom. The feeling of his large cock going in and out of you has you whimpering; you want more.

“Look into the mirror and watch as my cock pushes in and out of your beautiful cunt.” His cock is sliding in and out of your folds so easily. You turn your face forward and look at your crotch and see the way he is thrusting his erect member inside of you. Your cheeks are heating up with embarrassment, you feel exposed but still there’s something intriguing with watching someone, and that someone being Kuroo fuck you in front of a mirror this way.

His right arm hitches your leg up higher, opening you up wider. His left hand goes up towards your face and holds your jaw in place. Your eyes scan his face in the mirror, he’s watching you. The pleasure in your expression as you feel him fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. You let your gaze settle where the two of you connect and you see his cock, covered in white cream.

“You’re so wet (y/n), fuck. It’s like your cunt is pulling me inside you, like a vortex.”

“K-Kuroo, fuck me harder.” His hips still and he watches your face in the mirror, covered with your lewd expression. To Kuroo, you look like a horny slut that needs to be roughly fucked. Kuroo has never seen you look like this before and it’s killing him from the inside. Just watching your face has his cock twitching in excitement.

“Oh?” His cocky smirk erupts, and he placed your leg down, your warm foot making contact with the cold floor. “Bend over.”

Bending over and arching your back you hear his breath hitch at your action. He’s drinking in your nakedness. His eyes are looking at your cunt, where his cock is buried deep inside you and he can see and feel how you’re clamping around his shaft.

“Fuck princess, you look so sexy like this. Bent over with my cock deep inside of you.” His hands grab your hips as thrusts hard into you. You watch him in the mirror, his mouth slightly open, eyes closed and the two veins popping out from his neck. His pecks glistening from the water and sweat that has formed and you could just cum from the sight that you’re beholding.

His nails dig into your hips as he thrusts harder into your cunt, his cock filling you all the way. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the new position that he has you in, he is devouring your cunt with his large cock and Kuroo doesn’t care either, he is completely drunk on the pleasure from fucking you. He’s ramming into you from behind, he’s no gentlemen.

“Shit princess,” he moans, throwing his head back. His hips slamming into yours, you watch him in the mirror. Your tits bouncing, your mouth open as loud moans escape. One of his arms goes to palm your breast as his other goes to grab a hold of your wet hair, pulling it back, exposing your throat to the mirror.

“Next time I fuck you, I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat of yours.”

“Mhm, please.”

“Look at you princess, begging for my cock like a whore,” he grunts as he continues to ram into you like a wild animal. Your eyes are watering from all the pleasure you’re receiving. You close your eyes for a second, drowning in the way he’s fucking you. He’s hitting your g-spot so delicately and you can feel the pressure in your abdomen returning.

“Eyes on me kitten. Oh fuck, I wanna watch you cum,” his palm collides with your ass, giving it a hard smack. You open your eyes and lock eyes with him, his hazels are watching your (y/e/c)’s. His eyes hardly concentrating on yours and he quicken his pace, his hips slapping and hitting yours hard and you see his muscles twitching and flexing.

“Cum kitten, Cum for me, fuck cum!”

“T-Tetsurou,” you moan out loudly. Your arms going forward to grip the sink, to help you with your balance as your legs starts to shake and you can feel your muscles giving up, but Kuroo is fast to hold your hips in place with his arms as he leans closer to you, his front against your back as his hips still thrusts into you.

“I-I’m gonna cum (y/n).”

“Cum inside me Kuroo.”

“F-Fuck princess I- I’m cumming. FUCK!” Kuroo’s hips still and he grunts and moans in your ear as he cums and you join him. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you yell out his name. His cock is twitching inside of your cunt, he’s milking you with his seed. Your legs are shaking, and you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“I gotchu princess,” his voice comes out softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not letting you go,” he places a soft kiss on your cheek and then trails down to your neck.

“Now or in general?”

“Now and in general stupid,” he bites down on your shoulder and it makes you squeal and giggle. Kuroo laughs at your reaction and pulls away. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Kuroo pulls out of you and grabs the nearest towel he can find and starts to clean you up, a smirk on his face. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he is thinking.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you watch him throw the towel into the washing bin. He grabs your hand and leads you out of the bathroom, turning off the lights. You reach his bedroom and he turn on the lights, a king size bed in the middle of his room.

Kuroo lets go of your hand and walks to his closet. He grabs a black tee and two pair of briefs. He turns around and walks to where you’re still standing and gives you the tee and a pair of briefs.

“I know you don’t like sleeping naked so here, put them on,” he smiles softly and takes the other pair of briefs and pulls them up his legs.

“Thanks,” pulling on the tee and briefs you let out a breath you’ve been holding, it turns into a yawn and you feel exhausted.

“Let’s sleep princess.”

“Okay.” Kuroo pulls away the duvet and takes the right side of his bed, climbing in. You do the same on the other side. You settle in bed and see him reach for a button on his side of the bed, turning the lights off making the room pitch black.

Minutes pass and there’s an awkward tension in the room. Neither Kuroo nor you have spoken about what happened in the bathroom, but you remember his words that keep echoing in your head: I want you. Fuck I want you so bad. I’ve wanted you for years and now that you’re wet and almost naked in front of my I can’t control myself.

Kuroo has wanted you for years, he confessed to you and he still doesn’t know you feel the same.

“I have loved you since we were 15,” you finally confess, your eyes watching the ceiling. “I still do.”

Kuroo’s head quickly turns to watch you, the light from outside illuminating your soft skin, especially your beautiful face that he can’t keep his eyes off. He is watching you with adoring eyes, his chest feeling heavy and his belly fluttering from your confession.

“I have never loved someone as much as I love you Kuroo. My heart is yours if you’ll have me.” This time you turn your head to watch him. His expression hard to read.

He turns his body towards you and with one arm pulls you towards him, your faces only inches apart.

“I love you too (y/n),” he kisses you softly and you welcome it. “I’ll have you in any way I can have you. You’re mine now princess.”

“I am yours Tetsurou. Please take care of me.”

“I already did, or do you want more?”

“You know what I mean dumbass,” you giggle and feel happy and content. The fire in his eyes burning with passion and love for you.

You’ve found your prince and him his princess, for real this time.