#and now there are bumps on my wrists too the itchiness is making me want to jump into a lake

[wemefication]

i think i have hives or whatever it's called and my whole body feels like it's on fire and all the bumps look like small mosquito bites im not quite sure what to do

[aplaceinthedark]

AU interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Noah Sebastian (The Watcher of the Woods) x onbc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), fingering, slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev Fuckface McGee thinks he is), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk, overstimulation

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.  

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here. 

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up. 

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him. 

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was. 

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked. 

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me. 

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine. 

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked. 

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back. 

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting. 

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head. 

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were. 

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark. 

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized that despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So, between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me.  I didn't know how dizzier I could get. 

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted. 

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time. 

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow, I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans. 

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been dripping this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.  

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into me and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my arousal. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good. 

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow, his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips, and then I heard, 

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD. 

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat. 

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me. 

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips. 

“Noah, please, I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses. 

“Say my name then,” he demanded. 

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Plead louder for me.”

“Please, oh god, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes again, it was to see him shove his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was. 

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed fingers up and down my still-slick center. He slowly pushed two of them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up. 

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed. 

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure. 

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he, too, was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine, and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna…  I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily. 

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

[createyourownnarrative]

A list of Long Covid Symptoms

Allergy/Histamine (2)

Heightened Food Sensitivities — Worse reactions to foods I was already sensitive too

Inflammation After Eating Avocado — Seems to be histamine reaction

Arms/Hands (8)

Fingernails Brittle

Fingernails Slow Growing

Hand Coordination Off — Dropping things randomly

Hand Weakness — Trouble opening jars, etc.

Heavy Arm Feeling — Felt like they were two sacks of potatoes

Vertical Ridges on Fingernails

Waterlogged Look in Fingertips — Probably neurologically related

Wrist Pain

Back (2)

Back Cracking — Feels constricted & tight

Back Pain — Lower & upper, probably due some to organ inflammation

Bladder (4)

Discolored Urine — Clear/Dull at times, probably due to dehydration

Frequent Urination — Had to urinate more often, water would run right through me

Urgency in Urination — Trouble holding it at times, would have to go suddenly and immediately

Urine Smell — When Covid was most active, sweat would smell too

Circulation/Vascular (9)

Blood Dark

Blood Thick — Hard to get out of veins at times, wet cupping showed dark/thick blood too

Bumps on Veins — Briefly had bumps, making it hard to do IVs in certain spots, went away

Cold Hands & Feet

Covid Toes — Had slightly, toes under toenails would turn a little purple

Elevated Veins — Veins were raised at times

Felt Like I Was Having a Stroke — Weird sensation in brain stem, one of the more frightening symptoms

Hypertension — Blood pressure was up 140+/80+, normally I’m at 110-120/60-70

Micro-Clotting — Seen in blood from wet cupping

Ears/Mouth/Teeth/Throat (11)

Clogged Ears

Dry Mouth — Especially when Covid most active

Ear Cracking

Ear Pain — Sharp pain would come on inside of my ears at times, like an earache almost

Gum Receding — Not often

Hoarse Voice — Especially when Covid most active

Itchy Ears

Jaw Pain

Loose Teeth — Felt like some teeth would fall out, had to be careful eating certain things for some time

Pain in Teeth — Probably nerve related

Throat Tightness — Like a constriction

Energy (2)

Fatigue — Had extreme fatigue for months, could barely do anything

Malaise

Eyes (8)

Blurry Vision

Double Vision

Dry Eyes — Especially when Covid most active

Floaters

Itchy Eyes — Histamine or Covid related

Light Sensitivity — Especially when having brain stem inflammation

Motion Sensitivity — Especially when having brain stem inflammation

Tunnel Vision

Gallbladder (2)

Gallbladder Pain

Pain & Inflammation When Eating Fatty Foods — Have not had steak in 2 years, that sent me to the hospital the one time I decided to go for Long Haul Covid

Gastrointestinal (13)

Bloating — Upper GI

Burping — Worse with active Covid

Constipation

Craving Food

Diarrhea — More common with active Covid

Gassy — Worse with active Covid

Growling/Rumbling — Worse when eating things my body doesn’t want me to

Loss of Appetite

Nausea — Can come on with reflux

Reflux — Has been a mainstay, waxes and wanes, reinfection flares it up

Stomach Pain — Abdominal pain all over

Vomiting — Sometimes blood (when I had nasty gastritis from BA.5)

Weight Loss — Lost 28 pounds at lowest, have gained 16 back now

Head/Neurological (36)

Anxiety — A chemical physical anxiety

Brain Fog/Memory Issues — Trouble remembering names, etc.

Compressed Nerve — Constant nerve pain in neck/upper back that had to be relieved by Atlas Orthogonal Chiropractor, came on after reinfection

Confusion — Felt like dementia at times, forget why came downstairs, put keys in fridge

Delirium — Totally out of it for a short period, crazy thoughts, couldn’t think straight

Difficulty Concentrating — ADHD type feeling

Dizziness — Would have to hold on to the railing vertigo was so bad

Electrical Zaps

Fainting/Blacking Out

Fleeting Nerve Sensations — Quick phantom sensations

Hair Loss — Moderate loss of hair when showering

Hair Texture Changed — Coarse for a time

Hard Finding Right Word

Headaches/Migraines

Heat Sensitivity — Too much heat would make me feel horrible, nervous system related

Higher Heart Rate at Rest — Went up to 80s at rest when should have been 60s, higher standing and moving than normal as well

Limb Weakness — Dead arms at times, brain stem/neuro related

Nerve Burning Sensation

Nerve Pain

Numbness in Face

Occipital Neuralgia — Nerve pain in head

Pain & Inflammation After Using Brain Too Much — Only have so much brain power in a day at times

Partial Paralyzation — GBS symptoms, Thanksgiving 2020 could barely move half the day, shallow breathing

PEM — At one point couldn’t walk 5 minutes without feeling horrible that rest of day and the next, now can walk many miles without an issue, but strenuous exercise still a problem

Pins and Needles — Neuropathy in arms and legs

POTS — Dizzy/Blacking out when standing

Pressure in Brain Stem

Restless Legs — Fidgety, can’t sit still, moving legs a lot when trying to go to sleep

Shaking/Tremors — I remember seeing a new doctor and thinking she would believe I’m a drug addict, as I was shaking like someone going through violent withdrawals

Slurring Speech

Sound Sensitivity

Tinnitus — Some ringing in ears at times

Trouble Breathing — This was a neurological difficulty breathing, like my body didn’t know how to do it

Trouble Controlling Arm and Leg Movements — IV C really brought on GBS symptoms, brain couldn’t control my arms and legs

Trouble Swallowing — Food, pills, water

Trouble Typing/Writing

Vibrations

Heart (5)

Pain in Heart When Laying Down — Maybe reflux related

Pounding Heart — Probably neuro, was worse when at 100mg of Fluvoxamine for months

Skipped Heart Beats

Stinging Pain — Sharp pain, not so much anymore

Tachycardia — Was racing out of control, so rushed to Cardiologist and convinced them to give me steroids

Hormones/Mood/Psychological (9)

Depression — Slight, but I’m not a depressed person, if I was it would probably be extreme

Dissociation — Out of body, not present

Emotional — Crying, when I shouldn’t have, a few times

Feeling of Doom & Gloom — Felt at times I would never get better, but it was a chemical/physical thing

Feeling Irritable — Easily angered at times

Intrusive Thoughts

Mood Change — A little colder, less jovial

PTSD — From this whole experience

Sex Drive Decreased — Probably due to testosterone lowering some

Immune System (4)

Body Temperature Changes — Hot to Cold

Chills

Fever — Never higher than 102

Night Sweats — For a period would sweat profusely at night

Joints/Muscles (7)

Bone Pain

Hurt to Lay Legs on Top of Each Other While Sleeping — Had to put comforter in between legs

Joint Pain — All over joint pain, especially hips, knees, hands, comes and goes

Loss of Muscle Mass

Muscle Constriction/Tightness — All over body, Covid has caused a tightening, could use a massage daily for a year

Muscle Pain

Muscle Spasms — All over muscle spasms, especially arms, chest, legs, head, worse when Covid active

Kidneys (1)

Kidney Pain — Bilateral at same time always it seemed

Legs (5)

Calf Pain — Circulation?

Cramps — Would get wicked, painful cramps in legs

Heavy Leg Feeling — Dead legs

Thigh Pain, Weakness — Would get weird thigh pain, and weakness, as if they wanted to give out

Tight Hamstrings

Liver (1)

Pain in Liver — Mid-upper right side abdominal pain

Lungs/Respiratory (13)

Chest Pain — Especially with acute/active Covid

Coughing — Not too often

Coughing Up Phlegm — Still doing this, still nebulizing sometimes, cough up when I walk a lot

O2 Drop — Never measured below 93, would hoover 95-99 most of the time

Rapid Breathing — Scary, almost what I assume a panic attack is like

Rattling Of Lungs

Runny Nose — Usually more so with acute/active Covid

Shortness of Breath — Comes & goes

Sneezing — Usually more so with acute/active Covid

Throat Sore — Usually more so with acute/active Covid

Tightness in Chest — Chest was super tight after BA.5, wanted to stretch constantly, starting to use The Gun now

Trouble Breathing — Mostly beginning of Long Haul Covid, acute/active Covid

Wheezing

Lymphatic System (2)

Edema — Some fluid noticed around chest by Lymphatic Massage Therapist

Swollen Lymph Nodes — Noticed this especially under arms at times

Neck (2)

Cracking Neck — Worse with inflammation in area, acute/active Covid

Stiff Neck — Much worse with acute/active Covid, makes neuro symptoms worse

Pancreas (1)

Craving Food — Felt like a blood sugar problem, which was slightly higher than normal for me

Skin (7)

Acne/Cystic Acne — Would break out at times, maybe because I’m overloaded with toxins?

Bruising Skin — Would bruise after getting a line in vein, not anymore

Itchy Skin — Inflammation

Peeling Skin — Skin would peel around mustache when head inflammation was at its worst

Rash — Around nose, could be allergy/histamine reaction

Shiny Skin — Old baseball mitt looking skin for a period of time

Sensitivity To Touch

Sleep (7)

Awakened Suddenly — Wake up trying to catch my breath

Insomnia — Not for a very long period of time thankfully

Jolted Awake After Asleep For A While — Adrenaline dumping?

Trouble Falling Asleep — Tossing and turning

Trouble Sleeping Until Alarm — Would wake up way before alarm went off, that would never happen before Covid

Vivid Dreams — Nightmares, crazy dreams, remembering dreams (would not before Covid)

Woke Up Due to Dream Movements — Once swung my arms and knocked everything off my nightstand, woke myself up

Smell/Taste (2)

Burning/Phantom Smells — Not often

Metallic Taste — Not often

Other (7)

Craving Bananas — Was craving bananas for months, body wanted potassium?

Dehydrated — Covid commonly makes you dehydrated, still need to drink a lot of water and take electrolytes

Rib Pain — Cartilage/Rib inflammation, Costochondritis

Sudden Jerks

Sweat Smelled — Sweat & Urine smelled due to Covid

Thirst for Water — Likely due to dehydration

Trouble Walking

[mymarsmoonandstars]

ONE THING I ABSOLUTELY LOVED about wakanda forever is how shuri never admitted to seeing killmonger in the ancestral plane. nakia asked her twice, and she disclosed not a thing. so i've been mulling over two questions: will shuri ever admit to seeing killmonger? and if so, who will she tell?

i was thinking of writing up a meta, but i saw the scene too clearly in my head. so i wrote a story, a short one, about 1.4k words. tw death mention. i call it, cat's got your tongue. i'm kidding. it's untitled.

i haven't written fanfic in years, until wakanda forever, apparently. the power of black women front-and-center on screen, eh?

anyway, i think yes, shuri will eventually admit to seeing killmonger. but to whom? well. . .

.

.

.

Even the loud cascading water of Warrior Falls could not mask the sound of footsteps on rocks. A perk of being the Panther. So when a certain former member of the Dora Milaje appeared behind her, Shuri did not have to turn and look back over her shoulder to verify. She remained sitting on the edge of a rocky outcrop, legs dangling over a crystalline pool of shallow water. "If you're here to vent about your new suit, Okoye, your very long list of edits is still underway," said Shuri, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The golden horizon made the reservoir shimmer.

"It is not my suit I am concerned about. At least, not today." Okoye went to Shuri's side, and this close, Shuri not only breathed in her faint, reassuring scent of steel and lotus flower, but she could hear her heartbeat. Another Panther Perk that felt less like an advantage and more of an annoyance. She heard not only the heartbeats of humans, but the ancient thrumming of elephants, the flitting ones of birds. Sometimes, she wondered what her heartbeat had sounded like to her late brother, T'Challa. She knew it couldn't be like Okoye's, whose heart's drum beat as resonant and steady as the tama, speaking to her in a powerful but welcoming rhythmic language only she could understand. For the first time in days, Shuri felt the tensed Panther Spirit inside her head ease.

"Then what is it, Okoye?"

"You. If you wanted to challenge for the throne, I'm afraid you are a few weeks late. Though still fully within your rights."

Shuri looked down, twisted the Kimoyo beads on her wrist. She had programmed them off so that no one, not even Griot could reach her. "I did not come here to challenge for the throne."

"Then why are you here?"

Shuri furrowed her brows. She did not know the exact reason. She hated Warrior Falls, actually. As a child, she'd always associated it with being forced to wear itchy ensembles or watch boring fights. That is, until a few years ago, when T'Challa fought M'Baku and N'Jadaka here. She now thought of Warrior Falls as the place her brother not only once, but twice nearly died in. So why did it beckon her so?

"Okoye. Do you ever think of your tribe? Before you left it?"

Okoye sat beside her. Being that she was not in her Midnight Angels suit and no longer a Dora, she wore casual Wakandan wear. A sight Shuri was still getting used to. "Of course I do. I come from a long line of shepherds and farmers. But do not be fooled, as The Border Tribe was and still is Wakanda's first line of defense. We obliterated any threat before they had a chance to even feast their terroristic eyes upon Wakanda's protective barrier. We've earned our bragging rights, as your Americans say." Okoye bumped her shoulder against Shuri's, teasing a small smile out of her. Okoye's voice softened as she sank further into memory. "My father used to grow the sweetest yellow yam. Better than W'Kabi's, but do not tell him I said that. And my mother. . . she sang me songs full of stories about the king's personal protectors, instilling in me the dream of becoming a part of the Dora. After their spirits answered Bast's call, I decided to make that dream come true."

I'm so sorry the dream doesn't exist anymore, Shuri wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to. She blamed herself for Okoye no longer holding the title. But Okoye often assured that she had let go of the position and was ready to move on to the something more. "I do not understand, Okoye. Why must violence always be the price we pay for transformation? For progress?"

"Hm." Okoye tilted her head, thoughtful. For the first time in her life, Shuri saw shadows of black hair peeking through her tatted scalp. "Is this why M'Baku sits on the throne now, instead of you?"

"My father sat on the throne only to die. My brother sat on the throne only to die. And my mother, just the same. That throne is cursed." Shuri's voice was as bitter as heart-shaped herb tea.

"Cursed? I thought scientists such as you did not believe in curses."

"I've visited the Ancestral Plane. I—I have senses," said Shuri, struggling to explain the black-furred soul trapped in her mind, "that tread the world beyond physics. What I believe in, I am no longer sure."

Okoye turned and took hold of Shuri's hands. She rubbed her callused thumbs over Shuri's tattooed skin. "I've served under many Panthers, and from them I've learned that Wakanda's Protector is never alone. The herb is always there for you, if you are ever in need of ancestral guidance."

Shuri stood up, so quick, a cat alerted to danger. "Taking the herb is not an option for me."

Okoye stood with her, pose straight, electric, determined. "How, when it has been this way since Bashenga?"

"Because of who I saw, the first time I went there." Shuri swallowed hard. The first and only time she'd went there. She backed away from the rock's edge. The Panther Spirit growled, paced in its cage.

Okoye took hold of her arm. "And who did you see? What troubles you, Shuri?"

Shuri's dark eyes shone. She'd never admitted this to anyone, not even Nakia. "My cousin. I saw my cousin, and only him."

Silence. As deafening as the Falls. The wind blew at them. It was only until Okoye spoke that Shuri realized it was not a surprised silence, rather one where Okoye was waiting for Shuri to explain. When she did not, Okoye quirked an eyebrow. "And what have you learned from it?"

"I. . . learned?"

"Yes." Okoye circled Shuri. Even without her spear, she looked like a warrior. The water shifted around their ankles as if it, too, were intimidated. "I served Killmonger, once. Though it was brief, I have no shame in that. He taught me something valuable, that the throne matters just as much as whoever sits upon it. So. . . what did Cousin teach you?"

Ah. Shuri shut her eyes. So this is what she needed. Okoye's voice was not laden with pity or concern. But purpose. She did have a general's heart. And perhaps that's why she confessed to Okoye. They shared so much. Ramonda had stripped Okoye of her entire world; she understood what it was like to feel Queen Mother's rejection. And she understood what it meant to be pinned underneath Killmonger's sway.

Shuri recalled T'Challa once telling her that the Ancestral Plane was a very purple, but beautiful and fitting retirement. And for the most part, he had been right. The plane had been very purple, but also orange and yellow and red from the flames burning all around her and Killmonger. She felt a deep shame, seeing him. She regretted the words she told him. How he influenced her so quickly. And what type of leader succumbs in such a way? For the past weeks, a shamefaced Shuri had hid herself from everyone. They couldn't even find her in her lab. But the same compassion she extended to her enemy. . . perhaps it was time she offered it to herself.

Shuri's eyes opened, and they sparkled with renewed confidence. "I learned while anger is a valuable tool, vengeance is its puppeteer."

Okoye smiled, wide and beautifully. She stopped circling. "And you are no one's puppet." The corners of her smile faded, and she looked down at her deep blue dress, then out at the Falls. "Not even a puppet to tradition."

Shuri nodded once, understanding. She was never one for tradition, and she knew Okoye was slowly learning that about herself, too. "I will suggest to King M'Baku that we end Challenge Day. There are better ways to find a king or queen."

"Just bring with you a bowl of vegetables. He claims he cannot hear council on an empty stomach."

They laughed together. Okoye pulled her in for a long embrace. "Thank you," Shuri whispered in the former general's gold-cuffed ear, holding her tight. She and Okoye were both women who had shed old skin, who were finding their footing in newfound roles. They faced uncertainty. Restlessness, even. But they found stillness in each other, and through this, they would persevere.

The Panther Spirit leapt, bound, wind beneath clawed feet. Weight lifted. Free, at last.

[unpopularbunny]

How would Inosuke handle being teased? Like y/n bending over in certain ways when hes training or whatever.. knowing he's damn well looking, trying to get a reaction? 😂

(THANKYOU FOR BEING MY FIRST ASK I LOVE YOUUUUU)

More under the cut!

MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: Oral sex, penetrative sex

pairing: inosukexyou(fem pronouns) (ALL CHARACTERS 20+)

(p.s. If you want they/them he/him pronouns, don't be afraid to message me again and I can change the pronouns)

(this kinda got away from me lol)

hes super oblivious at first

He's like a swarovski crystal, as pretty as a diamond but not quite as sharp.

It isn't until zenitsu is throwing a tantrum to him about 'y/n basically offering themselves to him'

again he is SO confused and tells zenitsu that y/n hasn't offered him anything recently

'OH COME ON!! LIKE YOU DON'T SEE THE WAY SHES BASICALLY SAYING 'KISS ME'?? YOU UNGRATEFUL IDIOT!!'

Inosuke doesn't get it yet, but after blowing zenitsu off he sees you again and then /something/ clicks in his head.

The way you look up at him when you accidently bump into him, your lips slightly parted

He feels....itchy?

The way you say his name slowly, sort of....sensually?

when you hand him something and you trail your finger up his wrist to his arm

The sway of your ass as you walk away from him

Now he's frustrated, stupid zenitsu pointing it out, stupid y/n for making him feel this way.

He gets so very frustrated and confused

But it all comes to a bursting point when he was sparing with tanjiro for training.

You were doing some light cleaning and whoops! Clumsy you! You dropped your basket of cleaning supplies.

So you get on your knees and bend over, arching and showing off your round ass to the boys who were training.

Inosukes whole body feels like its on fire and he stops mid attack when he spots you out the corner of his eye

Before tanjiro can take advantage of this opening inosuke is gone in a flash and he's yanking you up by the wrist and dragging you down the hall

You can't make out what hes grunting about, just getting bits and pieces

'Its hot-' '-your fault' 'stupid zenitsu'

He has you in his room with the door slammed shut

He's red and he has an angry look on his face

'Fix it' his voice cracks juuust a little and you can tell he's desperate

'fiiiix what?' you're acting coy but you know these past few days you've been just as desperate to get a reaction out of him

He doesn't know what to say and his eyes are darting around but when he looks down he freezes

You follow his gaze and hes hard

you press yourself against him, feigning innocence and repeatedly asking him where it hurts and how you can fix it for him

He breaks relatively easy and demands you suck it. now.

You're on your knees and undoing his pants before he can and your mouth is full of him.

He has his hands in your hair and he's not holding back, gripping tightly and moaning

He stops paying attention and holds you as far down as he can, his cock deep in your throat

I mean sure, your air is restricted and drool mixed with precum is dripping down your chin.

But the half lidded look you give him is just what he needed

He realizes you're lacking air and yanks you off, you're coughing a little and catching your breath, sadly there isn't time

He's on you again, demanding you turn around and present yourself to him

He's rough, but you know if it was too much you could tell him to stop

He's grunting and his grip is most likely going to leave a few bruises.

he's cursing you, your teasing and prodding, saying how it made him feel so hot inside, so angry and confused.

You can hardly think, let alone try to justify what you were doing

He starts muttering how good you feel inside, how its helping how hot and itchy he was

His grip tightens just a little more and hes lost in his own world, or rather, lost inside of you

You're a mess on the floor, your cheek pressed against the cool wood and your mouth partly open and panting

You feel so good, it all feels so very good. Everything tightens up and you're cumming

He can't take it and he cums, holding you steady as he fills you up

Needless to say, after this, you just might have to tease him more often

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Ignorant | Steve Rogers

Wow I was really going through it with this one, huh? I think I listened to Bring Me To Life by Evanescence for the entire two hours it took to write this. I never write this fast-- I'm really going through it LOL! I hope you enjoy lovelies! It's the first Steve fic for Dinner at DIzzy's!

Appetizers (Tags): Angst

Entres (Pairing): Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 3: “Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Notes: This has a ton of swearing, Requested by Anon

Word Count: 1.8k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“Just because you’re the leader here doesn’t mean you have the right to be an asshole, Steve!” Y/n hisses at the man, fists balled at her side.

She’s not going to swing. She would never swing on him— at least she doesn’t think she would— but right now she’s so damn close. All day he’s been pushing her around, yelling at her for the slightest trip ups. Yelling at all of them. She understands that being fugitives isn’t easy but holy shit can the man chill out for five minutes? She fell asleep in the backseat of the car for five fucking minutes! Certainly that doesn’t warrant the hour tongue lashing she just got. It does, however, warrant her retaliation.

He takes a step towards her, face twisted in a snarl unlike anything she’s ever seen before. “Watch your language!”

She doesn’t back down— she’s not scared of him. “Don’t fucking yell at me then! Stop being a dick!”

She doesn’t feel bad for the insult or the way he flinches, his eyes darkening immensely. She had tried to politely ask him for space thirty minutes ago and he didn’t give her any. If he gets to blow off steam or whatever the fuck he’s doing than so will she.

“I’ll stop being a dick when you get some common sense!”

Steve’s raising his own voice now, getting right in her face, and she only pushes forward, her cheeks filling with heat and her stomach clenching painfully. The audacity of this man is incredible. His usual light eyes are a deep navy color now, almost black from his blown pupils. He looks crazy— she doesn’t doubt that she does as well. She would bet money that she looks insane.

“I fell asleep for five fucking minutes and Sam was right fucking next to me! What the fuck is your problem?” She’s doing it on purpose now— if he doesn’t want her to swear then that’s all she’s going to do.

Maybe it’s the triple F-bomb that has the sound of feet pounding against concrete echoing through their shoddy apartment. Maybe it’s just the yelling in general. Either way it’s a good thing that Natsaha and Sam come sprinting in from the other room of the two room complex because if they hadn’t then she’s sure her fist would be cracking against the jaw of Captain Douchebag right now.

“Woah, woah, woah— what the hell’s going on in here?” Sam is quick to get in the middle of them, pushing the super soldier to one end of the room while Nat yanks on y/n’s hoodie. “We could hear you idiots from the stairwell.”

Y/n struggles against Nat for a moment, vision tinted red at the edges. From across the room Steve glares at her, seething. She can practically feel the hatred pouring off of him. It stings at her chest, biting into her veins. He would have kept yelling at her if they hadn’t stopped him, she just knows it. She wishes he would so she could scream back— her stomach and muscles are still tight and she’s aching to lay into him some more. She barely even started and now she feels like she’s about to bubble over.

“Seriously—” Nat tugs again and y/n stops fighting, opting instead to glower at the blonde from across the room— “What’s gotten into you two? You’re supposed to be the responsible ones!”

Steve tears his arm from Sam’s hold but doesn’t clear the space between them. “Why don’t you ask y/n—” he tilts his head, sneering again— “What was it you said ten minutes ago? Oh yeah— apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Why that little fucking— “Don’t put fucking words in my mouth!”

She storms past Natasha, dodging her arm as it flies out— you’re not the only trained markswoman here Nat. Steve does the same, bowling past Sam easily to meet her in the middle of the room.

“Why not? It’s what you meant right?” He’s in her face again, breath hot on her face, and she only retaliates by fuming right back.

She feels like a dragon facing down her enemy— she’s ready to burn the entire building down if it means lowering him a peg or five.

“Actually it wasn’t but now it is you narcissistic dick.”

She can feel Natasha start to pull on her hoodie again but she’s not done— not now. Not when she’s just gotten started.

“You just can’t handle hearing the truth y/n— you can’t handle it when I tell you what you did was wrong. That you could have gotten us fucking killed with your ignorance—”

Her veins flood with fire, her lips curling into a painful scowl. In that moment everything turns slow, her heartbeat a dull thump, thump, thump in her ears, drowning out the rest of his sentence. The only thing that gives away that he’s still speaking is his mouth moving, his teeth bared and ready to be knocked out.

Oh so she’s ignorant now is she? Yeah well fuck you Rogers!

This time the only thing that stops her fist from slamming into Steve’s jaw is Sam catching it mid air, her knuckles slapping off his palm and bringing the sounds in the room rushing back to her at full force. She stumbles back with the impact but the soldier catches her, steadying her on her feet with a worried look in his soft brown eyes. It feels like she’s been underwater for days, her ears popping painfully as she gasps for breath.

“—s enough Steve!” When y/n blinks Nat is shoving her palm against the super soldier’s chest. “You need to back the hell off!”

She doesn’t realize until her eyelashes stick to her cheeks that they’re wet. That she’s crying. The sobs catch up to her when it registers, wracking through her with a force strong enough to have her whole body shaking. Sam is the first to notice, reaching out for her but she backs away, shaking her head. The room falls silent, three pairs of eyes now trained on her but she’s only looking at one pair of wide blue ones. Steve’s chest is heaving up and down, a cross between a feral and a confused look slathered across his features.

The look ignites the last of the dying spark inside her, her hand landing against her chest, wrapping around the dog tags hanging off her neck and yanking until she hears a snap. She waits for the chain to pool in her hands before she whips the metal across the room, hitting him square in the chest with a roar that’s more animal than human tearing from her throat— you wanted flames and now you’re going to get them.

“I’m ignorant? Me? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why the fuck I fell asleep today?” She slips her hands into her hair, tugging so hard on the roots that her scalp feels like it’s burning. “How about because last night you came back from scouting three hours late and looking like you got mauled by a fucking bear? And I asked you what happened and you wouldn't tell me a goddamn thing! You— Mister fucking super serum whatever the fuck! You just went to bed and I spent the rest of the night listening to you gasp for air! Not knowing if the shit was even working or if I was going to wake up to you gone! I—”

Her voice cracks and she curses, scraping her wrist across her face to wipe away some of the hot tears pooling down her cheeks. They feel like trails of lava melting her skin as they rush over her jaw and drip onto the floor. Steve’s face has morphed completely during the span of her rant, his mouth falling open, lips no longer busted open like they had been last night but still horrifying to look at right now. She knows he wants to say something— maybe he even wants to apologize— but there’s no fucking way she’s letting him. She’s not finished yet.

“I spent all night wondering if I was going to lose you! That I would wake up and have nothing! You’re my everything and I thought you were going to die and you wouldn’t tell me anything. So yeah, I guess I’m ignorant! Fuck you too.”

Her throat is raw by the time she’s done spitting the words at him, her head fuzzy from a lack of oxygen and her waning rage. It’s giving way too quickly to sadness— to the agonizing kind of heartbreak that has all her organs seemingly shutting down. Her face is sticky and itchy and she needs to get away from him right now.

She turns to meet the stunned faces of Sam and Nat, swallowing hard and wincing at the way her esophagus stings. She’s not going to have a voice at all tomorrow— or for the next week at this rate. Sam’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head from how wide they are, his mouth open but— like Steve— no words are coming out. She flicks her eyes to Nat who, thankfully, springs into action, nodding her head to the door, the question clear in her eyes— want to get the fuck out of here? Y/n doesn’t answer, she just starts walking.

It’s in that moment that Steve snaps out of his stupor, racing to catch her at the door, warm hand curling gently around her wrist. She doesn’t even give herself a second to enjoy it— to fall into his touch and forget the agony in her chest— before she’s ripping her arm away from him, cradling it against her chest and backing away from him.

“Baby I—” His face is tight, his light brows creasing the middle of his forehead.

She can see it— the regret. It carves across his face, tugging his lips into a frown and making his eyes glass over. Her chest squeezes at the sight, her own eyes coating with a fresh sheen of tears. She wants to wrap her arms around him— to tell him that she forgives him and that she loves him and that she’s scared— but he did this not her and before she knows it she’s taking another step back, shoulder bumping into Nat’s as she shakes her head.

“I’m sleeping with Nat tonight. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Night, Steve.”

Steve’s face falls, the first of his tears pooling down his now angelic face, and as she hesitates. Maybe she should— she feels a tug on her hand, glancing down to where Natasha’s slender fingers wrap around her forearm. She doesn’t have the strength to fight her comrade as she pulls her past the door frame.

As the super soldier falls from her line of sight all she can hear is Sam’s exhausted voice—

“Let her go, man.”

—and she breaks.

[atlas-of-the-universe]

Vision’s Powers

Finally here we are guys! I really hope you enjoy.

Length: 3,512 words; ~12 minute reading time

It had been a long and difficult day training with a few of your fellow colleagues at Stark tower. The tank top that you had on had a brim of sweat around the collar and fell loosely past your hips. Your shorts fell mid-thigh, clinging to your waist with a tight elastic stretch and, not unlike your shirt, fell quite loose. It was getting closer to nighttime, but you, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky decided to stay and chat in the training room.

Harsh rays of sunset fell into the room and blinded you slightly, so you faced away from the window, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Bucky and Steve were caught in some lengthy conversation and you were able to pick up words here and there but not enough to understand what they said. Maybe had Natasha not been nit-picking your attacks and defenses, you would have been more interested in what they had to say. The punching bag in front of you dangled on a bulky and squeaky chain, the repeated motion of the Stark logo swinging back and forth just egged you on.

Natasha put her hands on her hips, a stern expression playing at her face. “Feet more apart,” she scrutinized. You did as you were told and shifted your feet apart further. It made your calves burn but you held it together and looked up at her for confirmation. She nodded and watched your movements with a critical, yet compassionate eye. She and you had been training for most of the day but taking breaks in between when needed. She was a tough teacher; she and you both knew that. However, that did not make training any less enjoyable. There were certain moments where she would tease you on how your punches fell or you would make comments on how teachers are supposed to teach. Each one would break the “training-tension” and give you two a moment of peace before going right back to work. It was necessary.

“Let her relax Nat,” Bucky cawed from across the room. “Tony and Vision should be done soon.”

Tony and Vision had been working for the past few hours on demonstrating and taking note of each one of Vision’s aspects. Even with their (rather large) lab directly across the hall from the training room, neither of them stepped in to greet them in the day. The only one who saw them before disappearing into the lab was Natasha, who had let the guys and you know when you first walked into the training room. Natasha did not seem concerned, so it did not concern you.

Nat scoffed and picked up your water bottle, handing it to you with a smirk on her face. Facing you, she briefly made eye contact with you before rolling her eyes and calling over her shoulder “She’s the one who asked for this, Barnes.”

Bucky grimaced but chuckled. “Why on Earth would you do that to yourself, kid?”

You smiled, appreciating the empathy. “I needed to train. I felt out of practice,” you said, walking to go grab your bag from the benches on the left side of the room. The red walls were a contrast from the white boxing arena that Steve and Bucky sat against. You walked over to the arena and sat on the padded ground a few feet in front of the boys, Natasha coming to sit next to you. “Plus, she could have been a lot tougher,” you continued. “We’ve been going at a good pace, I think.”

“I guess I’ll just have to go harder on you next time,” Natasha responded with a smirk and playfully bumped into you.

Steve chuckled and gestured to the door with a nod, “Why don’t we all go get something to eat? I don’t think Vison and Tony will be done anytime soon.”

The group nodded around at each other and you placed your hand below you to push yourself up off the ground. Your arm was sore from the long day of work, so you were rather excited to get back to your room, take a shower, and finally decompress. With a ‘hup’, you pushed off and walked over to the benches to gather your things. However, before you were able to reach your hoodie, the door to the training room opened and you instinctually looked over. Vision’s face peaked into the room with a curious look, his eye searching around the room,  and finally locked on you. He made eye contact with you and quickly glanced away to face Natasha. Everyone stopped and watched Vision as he pushed open the door and walked inside.

“Hello everyone,” Vision greeted slightly quiet. “I was wondering if I could borrow Ms. (Y/L/N) for something.” Vision’s gaze shifted to you with a polite expression.

“Oh great, am I going to be a guinea pig?” You chuckled and threw your hoodie into your bag. To be fair, you weren’t nervous. Tony had done other experiments with you in the past and they all simply involved weapon production. You were typically his assistant when he would need someone else to try thing for Peter’s upgraded gear. You swung your bag over your shoulder and looked around the room. “I’ll catch you guys another time, thanks for the invite Steve.”

Steve smiled and nodded at you and Natasha told you to be up early tomorrow for more training. With a smile, Vision led you out of the room and into the hall. “So what exactly is it you guys are doing?” You asked.

“Energy influxes on human skin,” he said walking next to you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your sneaker squeak echoing in the hall. A feeling of dread set in your stomach. “Vision, no, no, no, no, I don’t-”

Vision put his hand on the small of your back and your wrist as you babbled on, leading you down the hall. “Don’t worry, it’s painless,” He interrupted. “Unfortunately, we needed someone besides Tony.”

“How come?”

“Actually,” Vision said. “Now that you mention it, I’m not quite sure why. We were experimenting with my powers on his own skin to see if they created any sort of reaction. He initially pulled away but told me he didn’t feel anything.”

You scoffed, “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

Vision smiled at you. “No, I can understand why. I don’t believe it to be painful.”

You nodded and grabbed the handle to the door of Tony’s lab. Tony’s lab was a bit of a mess, with paper scattered across a large glass desk with massive computers that looked too difficult to figure out how to use. In front of Tony’s desk, Tony sat on a high metal stool with a clipboard, and a pen between his lips. There were various machines around his office to, from what you assumed, assist Tony with various tasks that came with him.

Tony glanced up at you and smirked. “Ah!” He exclaimed. “(Y/N), so glad you could make it. Take a seat.” Tony hopped off the stool and motioned to it.

Vision wasn’t too far behind you. He looked at Tony with furrowed brows, but you ignored your gut and tossed your things on the ground, kicking it away from the stool so no one would trip over it. You hopped onto it, despite your muscles aching. Once you had yourself comfortably seated on the chair, Tony sprung up.

“So, the point of this experiment is to see if Vision’s energy produced from his power has any effect on human skin,” Tony said quickly. “Before you ask, no it’s not cancerous. No, it’s not painful. I didn’t have any rashes, itching, or allergic reactions, so if I was fine, you should be fine.”

Vision spoke, “Mr. Stark, I don’t believe that’s how allergic reactions work-”

“Sure it is,” Tony interrupted. “Alright, Robocop, hop to it.”

With a sigh, Vision took your hand in his palm gently and turned the top of your hand towards the ceiling. You watched his delicate movements, him occasionally stealing glances at your face. “Please,” he said. “Let me know if anything hurts.” He put his other hand over the top of yours, slightly hovering above it. The underside of his hand emitted a small, purplish glow as the energy touched your skin. It felt warm, like there was static floating across your hand. To be honest, you kind of expected more but knew that Vision was being gentle on purpose. He had powers capable of things you hadn’t ever seen, and you didn’t want to find out. You smiled at the feeling of his power traveling across the top of your hand. If anything, it kind of tickled. You smiled.

“You seem to be rather enjoying this,” Vision said as he looked up from your hand.

You chuckled. “It just feels weird.”

“Weird?” Tony asked, strolling over to the other side of his desk. He flipped his pen in between his finger. It was faint, but you could tell that there was a small smile playing at his lips. It made you curious, but you decided not to ask.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I don’t know. It feels sort of itchy? Not like…a bad itchy, though.”

Vision, after giving you a glance up from focusing on his powers, and then returned his gaze to his and your hands. “Shall I continue, Mr. Stark?” Vision asked without ever looking up. Tony didn’t need to answer Vision for Vision to already have the answer.

He began slowly inching his hands up the outside of your arm. However, the further he went up, the more intense the feeling became. Occasionally, you would twitch or jerk your head away slightly from the feeling. It was definitely becoming more of a solid tickle now instead of the itchy sort of tickle that it was before. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant, but it did sort of surprise you. The more you attempted to hold back the giggles that began broiling in your chest, the more difficult it became. You thought from the outside, you seemed to be holding yourself together; Vision’s eyes slowly followed his hands up and down your arm, the purple hue tingling across your skin. It had gotten bad enough to the point where you needed to close your eyes and take deep breaths. You felt Vision halt, the tickly feeling lingering on the top of your forearm.

“Ms. (Y/N), are you alright?”

You sighed and smiled at Vision. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Vision had a concerned look on his face. Perhaps he was worried about your reaction, or maybe something else. His brow was furrowed and his eyes bounced between you and Tony. “Mr. Stark,” He said and stood up from his hunched over position. “Perhaps it would be best if we continued tomorrow. Or even found another subject. This seems to be causing discomfort.”

A feeling of guilt set in your stomach. You reached out to Vision and grabbed his arm. You didn’t want to be the person who interrupted an important project. God knowing Tony, he was probably working on something terribly important. “Wait,” you said. “I’m completely fine to continue.”

Vision turned back around to face you. He let out a large sigh and wiped his hands with relatively small  cream-colored towel. Perhaps this was more of a difficult task for Vision than you had previously assumed. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seemed to be uncomfortable.” Vision said.

You nodded and felt your face heat up. Obviously, you wouldn’t want to admit to your colleagues that you were ticklish. How embarrassing! Someone as strong as yourself, being amongst literal Gods, a couple of super soldiers and a bunch of other extremely talented and smart individuals? You felt like it made you look weak. Thinking about it further, if you found out the same fact about one of the other Avengers, you wouldn’t view them as weak, so why blame yourself? Additionally, if you didn’t tell them, you knew that Vision wouldn’t have the moral capacity to let himself continue. If this was an important enough project, it would need to get done regardless of something as childish as you being ticklish. Ultimately, there would be no point in keeping it a secret.

“It just…” you began, trailing off. Your eyes bounced back and forth between Tony and Vision. Tony had a small smirk still on his lips but he kept gesturing for you to continue. “It just kind of tickles.”

Vision tilted his head and immediately smiled. You prayed that your face didn’t look as red as it felt. Vision chuckled and placed his towel down on a rollable science table. “Oh dear, I thought perhaps I was hurting you,” Vision said, obviously relieved.

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “No, no, not at all!” You spoke. “I just didn’t want to say anything. Whatever you’re doing looks important, so I thought it was best to let you focus.”

Vision smiled and looked over his shoulder to Tony. “Mr. Stark,” he said. “I think we’re good to continue, if (Y/N)’s still well enough.”

You nodded and gave Vision your arm once again. However, just before Vision’s fingers touched your arm again, Tony called out and started you both.

“Vis,” said Tony. He spun his pointer finger in a circle. “Pepper and I were supposed to have dinner tonight. Get a move on.”

Vision smirked a bit. You watched him as he walked over to the opposite side of the stool. Your instinct was to turn around to face him but he quickly placed a hand on your shoulder and let you know to stay where you were. It was a bit uncomfortable, looking forward while Vision fumbled with a box of gloves behind your back. You could hear everything but, fighting your instincts, you continued to look forward.

“I’m going to begin again,” Vision said. “…and it anything hurts-”

“Let you know,” You interrupted with a smile on your face. Vision was close enough to your that you could hear the power in his hands light up again. Normally, you would have been uncomfortable, but you trusted Vision. He hadn’t given you any reason to distrust him and Tony’s work. “Of course.”

Vision began hovering his hands over your shoulders, the feeling immediately sparking to life with barely a warning. It made you shift, but you kept your lips pursed tightly together. The feeling on your shoulders wasn’t terrible, but it was quickly becoming more intense than you’d like to admit. Vision began moving once again. The itchy tingly feeling creeped its way towards your neck and finally, you shrugged your shoulders up and let out a stream of giggles. Vision, to your dismay, kept his hands at your neck, following your movements as you leaned forward to try to avoid the feeling.

“Vision! Plehehease I need a sehehecohond!” You giggled out, your hands reaching up to grab his wrists. He didn’t stop.

“I’m quite sorry, Ms. (Y/N), but we are on a schedule.” Vision said, playfulness gracing his voice. “Surely you can handle a bit of tickling, can’t you?”

Before you had time to protest, Visions hands leapt down from your neck and gripped your sides. You let out a startled yelp and immediately burst into a new set of high pitched laughter. You could feel that Visions hands weren’t even moving but feeling his hands on your sides was enough to make you lose your composure.

In a completely involuntary reaction, you leaned backwards into his touch and felt your back collide with his chest. However, only your brain could process that moment which might have been uncomfortable, if your body wasn’t too busy reacting to Visions hands now skittering around your sides. He still held you close to him, and pinched the area directly under your ribs. Your elbows flew back and attempted to guard your sides but Vision simply kept his hands there. You were too weak against him, especially considering that most of your strength was being consumed by your uncontrollable laughing, but your arms did little to nothing against his tickling. Instead, you bucked your hips and managed to get yourself off of the chair. Your giggles didn’t seem to want to stop at this point, so with a smile and a defensive hand in front of you, you turned around to face your attacker.

Vision’s eyes were wide and his brows were high, but he had a rather large smile. He let out a laugh and crossed his arms. “I suppose that answers that question, Mr. Stark.”

Tony let out a nasally, almost teasing laugh and walked over to you. You straightened your back as Tony patted your shoulder. “Sure does,” He said to Vision. Tony turned to you. “Thank you for being a wonderful test subject today, (Y/N). We got some great info.”

“Wait, how did you guys get good info?” You asked. “Vision used his fingers for the last bit of it! That’s not fair!” You smiled but gesturing to Visions hands, you noticed that Vision had a confused, but amused expression.

“I suppose it would make sense for the victim to feel phantom fingers,” said Vision, flexing his fist.

“Alright, great, mark that down as one of the symptoms. We’ll call it phantom fingers. Good name.” Tony said, quickly walking away from you and heading to his desk. With a pen in his mouth, he rapidly typed something into the computer.

You were more than confused to say the least. When Vision was tickling you, he was tickling you. You could physically feel his fingers on your body. “Wait, what do you mean? You were touching me! Like, not with your powers, with your fingers!”

Vision chuckled. “I assure you, we never strayed from the rules of the experiment.” Vision winked, which just confused you more.

You crossed your arms and looked at Tony, whose smile had returned to his lips once again. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Tony tilted his head and took the pen from his mouth. Without looking at you, he pointed the pen in your directly and gave a knowing smirk. “An experiment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I kind of got that but what kind of experiment?”

At this point, Vision uncrossed his arms and took a step around the table to gather some papers from the side of Tony’s desk. He had a little smile on his face as well. He looked to Tony, but Tony was too absorbed in whatever he was doing on his computer. “If I may,” Vision spoke. “The original intent of the experiment was to see if my powers reacted in any way with human skin. Originally.”

“Originally,” You repeated.

Vision nodded and chuckled. “From there, we discovered that if I put a certain amount of effort into my powers, they begin to cause pain. Enough of it could possibly injure someone and do permanent damage.”

You shook your head. “So, you experimented on me? Knowing that it could hurt me?”

“No,” Vision said matter-of-factly, “Actually, we discovered that the lighter I go, the more it actually begins to tickle the skin.”

“Okay,” You said. You could feel your face heating up. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Rules of science,” Tony chimed in. “In all well-conducted experiments, you never let your subject know what the test is. We needed to see if it applied to everyone, and I thought you were the most well-apt guinea pig.”

“That’s terrifying, Tony,” you said.

Tony smirked and nodded. Vision walked over to where you stood and handed you a bottle of water. You appreciated the gesture but waved it off and picked up your metal water bottle that you had in your bag. Taking a swig of it, you chuckled and shook your head, thinking about the ridiculousness of it all. As long as it was just Tony and Vision who knew about this little “weakness” of yours, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Right…? Well, maybe not. A feeling of dread set place in your stomach.

“You…aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?” You asked, side-eyeing Tony.

Vision hummed and smiled. “No, (Y/N). Why would we tell?”

“Speak for yourself, cyborg,” Tony interrupted. “This is useful information.”

“Tony…” you threatened.

“(Y/N)…” he teased.

���I’m serious.”

“You’re no fun,” Tony said, deadpan. “I can’t make any promises.”

You sighed and picked up your bag. The last thing you needed was the Avengers teasing you over something like this. However, with a (relatively fake) air of confidence, you said your goodbyes and left the lab and stepped out into the hall. Your water bottle seemed to be the only comfort to you right now. Before you could reach the door of the gym, Natasha stepped out and gave you a wide smile.

“Sounded like you guys were having a ball in there,” She said. “Heard you laughing pretty loudly.”

“Ha…it’s nothing,” You responded and shrugged.

Like you said, the last thing you needed.

[amethystpath-writes]

The Society

(NOT A PROMPT)

The grandiose room would have been extravagant had Nahzi been seeing it from anywhere other than the stage. She was a prop- no. A prop was hardly noticed. Nahzi was the whole exhibit, ready for viewing, prodding, and throwing insults at.

“She looks uncomfortable.” I’m stuffed in a too-hot dress.

“Her hands shouldn’t be covered in those gloves. They are for the elite class- for the Society.” My hands are scarred and Garnor thought they would be too ugly to look at- said it would distract from my ‘pretty, scratched face.’

And what did it matter anyways? Nahzi was a Society member’s property, so the gloves should have made the elite class feel well. This lady had no right. Then again, Nahzi didn’t want the Society gloves. She didn’t want them. She wanted them off. Now. Goodness, she never even thought about the meaning behind it. Nahzi was adorning their clothing, becoming more and more like them. Her stomach twisted.

“Is she capable of lifting her lips at all?” Into a snarl, perhaps, but that would only get me into trouble. “Garnor must have found the perfect routine. I should ask him about it after the Gathering. Misfortune befall you, Creature.” You used to be a Creature, too.

Did he say ‘routine?’ If unpredictability was routine, then yes. If Garnor was so great at what he did, why wasn’t Nahzi his wife yet? And why wasn’t he the one with special abilities?

The gloves were itchy now. So was the dress. The pins in Nahzi’s hair. They didn’t belong on a Creature.

Most of the critics were women, ones all dressed up in uncomfortable gowns and with faces powdered themselves. Looks like they fell right into their new roles. Women with pale, olive, chocolate, and all skins had fallen victim- had all been manipulated so easily by those around them. There were a few men who had fallen prone to a woman’s influence, too, but they were much fewer than the alternative. There was no particular reason- only an easy pattern Nahzi noticed too soon as she stood broadcasted on the stage.

A hand landed on Nahzi’s waist. Her first reaction being to pull away was a mistake as it rattled the chains hanging from her wrists, drawing the attention of all the hungry sharks. Nahzi dropped her gaze, but kept her chin angled high. She had nothing to be ashamed of as long as she defied Garnor. He would want her to speak; she wouldn’t.

“You have received many compliments, I heard.”

Nahzi nearly hummed mockingly, but that was just as close to speaking as deliberately saying, ‘Go screw yourself.’ She swallowed, taking a small breath. Still, Nahzi said nothing, but she did turn her chin to make eye contact with Garnor. He hated it when she did so. Hated it because it meant she didn’t acknowledge him as a threat. Garnor forgot Nahzi wasn’t a puppy dog like the rest of the bitches here- literally and metaphorically speaking.

“You know what happens when you ignore me.”

Ignore you? Is that what you call this? Nahzi made a tss sound, one that gathered more attention than she meant. Everything she did was an attraction. Everything. It was why she remained so silent, and otherwise so obedient- despite her grandest wishes. It broke her- literally- to be so docile. However, fighting the guests would have caused a ruckus that Nahzi would not be able to survive later. The silence, on the other hand, that she could deal with the consequences of- because Garnor didn’t understand the importance of it.

The chain was grasped at Nahzi’s left wrist, and she was pulled into Garnor’s chest. Hating the gasp she gave, Nahzi turned her head away, her arms becoming riddled with chilled bumps. Contact be damned. Looking him in the eye usually caused him discomfort. That was…until the reason it happened was because she’d been frightened by him enough that she glanced.

“Look at me.”

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Tongue on roof of mouth. Nahzi plastered a look of contempt on her face- the same expression she always bared until slip-ups like the one just now. She faced him again, blinked, and nearly smiled when Garnor frowned at her self-control.

“You will regret making a fool of me.”

Nahzi shrugged. Maybe I will, maybe I will not. See, as horrible as the punishments sometimes were for not being Garnor’s little trophy-power wife, it was always somewhat satisfactory to watch him stomp around like a toddler throwing a tantrum. That satisfaction was all she needed to protect herself.

“You are going to perform.”

For the first time this night, Nahzi’s lips parted. What? she almost said but caught herself and snapped her jaw shut, lips forming into a defiant frown. No. You can’t make me. But Garnor could, and Nahzi knew that; she just liked to tell herself better.

“Your hand.”

She shook her head, stepping back. The stage was large, but not large enough that Nahzi could outrun Garnor. Of course, she had chains on, anyway. Nahzi thought even without them she had little chance- especially when surrounded by so many people who saw her as nothing other than an animal which needed taming.

Not here, Nahzi thought. Do not turn me into a performer in front of them. Them- all the people a part of the Society. A bunch of rich brutes and their dainty and lesser partners, taking in people like Nahzi to starve to death if only for entertainment. It was a vicious cycle that Nahzi wished to someday put an end to.

“One of them will take me,” Nahzi said, and her voice was rasp and unpractised from her long hours of rebellious silence. “You know they will.”

“Good, then you will smile when you receive your next compliment.”

As horrible as Garnor was, she didn’t trust that others in the Society weren’t worse. Nahzi heard stories of Miss Meighleen’s Creatures being damaged so far beyond repair that the husband smashed it with one of those meat mallets used in the kitchens- killing it once and for all.

At least its life was ended before it could become such a horrible and mindless contribution to the Society. Still, Nahzi had no wish to die. She preferred this constant fight and struggle over an endless motionlessness.

It. Nahzi used to be called that…before Garnor assigned her a name and gender. How unfair? Nahzi never paid attention to that change before but now…now as the gloves itched, and the dress scratched her skin…as she spoke to Garnor as a plea to remain as she was…it was all this which made Nahzi realize with raised brows…she was becoming one of them. It was this change, she realized, which was the cause of her misfortunate state now- the reason she had ever been able to be put in these horrendous chains, ones that pushed her fingers into unusable fists.

“I could not perform even if I wanted,” she whispered. Nahzi touched a closed, useless, and restrained fist to her lips, then to her eye as a tear slipped and she tried to hide it. The sniffle was unconcealable, though.

Was this it? Was Nahzi finally broken in after months- or was it years- of a hard, dreadful silence? After rebellious glares and jerks away from touches? But she still felt Creature-esque. Still felt angry at this change, at this sudden transition of sacrifice.

All this time, Nahzi thought, and whimpered in the back of her throat, I thought I was making such strategic sacrifices. Not fighting the visitors because it might have meant more torture behind-the-scenes, which would have meant submission. When all along…those sacrifices were acts of submission, and they were adding up- so quickly that Nahzi didn’t even see it coming until this very moment.

“Your hand,” Garnor said again, and this time Nahzi didn’t even have the capacity in her mind to reject him, to- to defy him, even in an aggravating glare. She stood still, sniffing with eyes wide open as she recounted each of her small sacrifices, only realizing that she doomed herself, and that Garnor hardly had to step in to do it.

As her hand was involuntarily lifted, Nahzi began to wonder, Is this my species’ fate- to become slaves to the Society? Have we no way to eliminate the threatful parts of ourselves?

The restraint around Nahzi’s fists fell away, clattering to the ground in a way that the sound ricocheted across the room, ringing in all Societal ears, ringing their attentions to the stage where an unrestrained Creature now stood sobbing to herself.

Nahzi clenched her fist at her own free will, but as she released her fingers to reveal her palms, a string of glowing white light slithered out, skittering across the air in bounded hops…right towards Garnor.

The Society, which had congealed into a massive, crowded audience erupted into cheer, laughter, and applause as the white caressed Garnor's hand, gliding across his knuckles and around his shoulders before steadily sinking into his skin.

Meanwhile Nahzi fell to her knees, head in her hands as she sobbed at her loss of powers, at her sense of being having been so cruelly ripped from her with hardly a moment’s notice.

Now, if Nahzi ever wanted her abilities back, she would have to do to a Creature what Garnor did to her. Or rather, what she did to herself. Could she do it? Could Nahzi continue the cycle of thievery and grievances just to reclaim what was stolen from her, even if it meant stealing from another?

Would she become a part of the Society, or would she find a way to tear it at its seams from within its gates?

[nomazee]

Komorebi (4)

komorebi, p.4

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. 

But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (final)

(THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT IM SO SORRY and this is definitely shorter than the other chapters (which were already short to begin with) but i hope you guys dont mind that!! that was kind of my intention with this series (i think i’ve mentioned it before,,,?) but this took so long to get out in the first place that i feel like it’s a little underwhelming to have a chapter this short 💀💀 but anyways i hope you like it!!! 

pspspspsps check out this post & help me pick what to do for my 200 special pspspspsps)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Tsukishima thinks that the repetition of his surname ringing in his ears is making him go crazy. Well, crazy is the wrong term. He hasn’t lost his senses yet—he thinks that despite being faced with the daunting wall that is attraction, he’s faring rather well in his day-to-day life. 

You, however, don’t seem to be doing well.

If he’d voiced his concerns to anyone else, he would’ve gotten looks that really solidify the whole “crazy” narrative. You’re perfectly fine on the surface. You’re laughing, giving away more friendship bracelets that line the wrists of his teammates in a steady row and dropping off big white pastry boxes full of cookies and danishes. (“Homemade puff pastry!” He remembers you calling out proudly. “Took me a while to get the hang of it but I don’t think I did too bad!”)

But Tsukishima Kei knows what facades look like. He knows what it’s like to cover up countless feelings and thoughts and words with a blank face and a sarcastic tone. He imagines that using the opposite tactic (one of bright smiles and airy laughs) is somewhat similar. 

He hates to think that he’s the cause of the lack of a crinkle in the corners of your eyes and the scratchy, aching noise of your cello-string-laugh. 

But Tsukishima just does not often know what to say. How to say it. How to categorize the things he feels and send them into funnels where the right words slip out the other end. 

He thinks he’s gotten the first step down pat—he knows he’s attracted to you— (that word is terrible. He pauses and rethinks the terms he can use.) He knows he’s fond of you. Very fond, actually. It’s great that there’s a word for this in his head now. The big issue here, though, is that one word out of five-hundred-thousand is not going to help him figure out how to talk to you. 

So Tsukishima Kei bites. Not like a dog, but like a mosquito. Dogs really only bite when they’re provoked. In truth, he hasn’t been provoked by you—not at all. It’s like he only exists to bite people with no reason and with nothing to provide to society, only leaving pesky, itchy bumps on people’s skin that linger for an annoying amount of time.

The thought is sad. But he thinks it’s accurate. 

He starts off small, like dipping his toes into the water of despondency. His sarcastic remarks sound to start less like sarcasm and more like disdain. It graduates slowly into small insults, ones that sort of slip under the guise of his personality, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. He knows by the way your responses turn into tight-lipped smiles and silent nods. He knows by the way you shift your gaze and furrow your eyebrows and chew the inside of your cheek.

He hates that he knows. He wants to forget about your habits and your voice and your smile and the orchestra of your laughter. The point of this is to forget, he thinks to himself, so why is he still clouded with the faint images of you skipping your feet against the concrete with Shouyo and focusing on the threads between your fingers during lunch as you weave yet another friendship bracelet. 

He watches you do the latter, chopsticks tapping absentmindedly into the content of his bento as he watches you intently. You’re tying off the ends, cutting a shorter thread to make a sliding knot closure. 

The infatuated part of him wonders if you’ll stand up from your table, walk over to his, and hand it to him, slip it around his wrist with glimmering eyes and raised eyebrows and a soft smile. But he’s hoping too much, he realizes as you hand it to Shouyo with a laugh. 

Yamaguchi takes a seat next to the blonde. Tsukishima is aware of his presence but doesn't make a move to glance at him. Yamaguchi sighs. He knows what this is about, and he could say a lot of things to Tsukishima, but thinks his words would be redundant and a simple repetition of Tsukishima’s inner monologue. 

(Tsukishima can handle this, he thinks. It’ll take some time, but he’ll get it eventually.)

You’re reciprocating the distance, the blonde thinks. You’re finally taking his cold remarks personally and pushing yourself away. Tsukishima knows that’s what he intended but the tightening of his lungs and the way his fingers tap rapidly against his desk makes his subconscious reconsider what he’s doing. 

Yamaguchi sighs again. He can’t help it—he thinks the dazed look on his friend’s face is so comically out of character, and he pushes aside his momentary pity to let out a quiet chuckle.

“She’s not just your friend.” He tells Tsukishima. There’s silence at the table for a moment. Tsukishima’s mind whites out for a minute as he tries to understand what Yamaguchi is telling him. 

He hums in response, acting despondent and oblivious. The twitch of his eyebrow gives him away, though. He knows what to do and how to do it, finally—he knows that if he takes enough time to think about it he can finally find the right words to tell you. It’s not the ideal situation to do so, but he guesses he’ll take the chance. 

(He’s strong in his regard until he shows up to school the next day, where a bottle of cold tea and a homemade pastry sits on top of his desk. It’s undeniably you. He feels his eyes start stinging.)

[karikarasuno]

The Sun Doesn’t Shine in Tokyo, Part II

Pairing: Tanaka Ryunosuke x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Angst, Character Death(s), Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood, Grief, Smut, Soft Sex, Vague knowledge of Computer Engineering (once again, please bear with me)

Summary: The end is near. Time is quickly running out. Hope is fleeting, but not entirely gone.

Part I | Part II

Word Count: 9.8k

June 17, 2065

8:24am

It’s morning. The digital clock on his bedside table flashed 8:24am, the angular digits barely seen through the grogginess of your sleepy brain. You shift to go back to sleep, which easily draws you in until there’s a stinging burn on your side. Your wound is itchy and uncomfortable.

“Shh,” fingers are brushing the hair on your forehead from your eyes. “Just gimme a second. This is gonna hurt.”

A wet cloth is pressed to the wound, the stinging sensation returning as you feel the alcohol clean out the dirt and grime from the night before. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to deal with the temporary pain. “I’m sorry, a little longer then I’ll be done.”

The cloth is removed as you sit up to rest on the headboard, too awake after the cold stinging to go back to bed. A calloused hand comes to stroke your cheek, chapped lips pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Morning,” you croak, voice rough with sleep.

“G’morning, baby,” you can tell he’s been up for a while, the hoarseness that usually cracks his voice almost entirely gone.

“I should probably shower and then head downstairs. I never actually got the chance to brief everyone on what happened.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yamaguchi already did late last night. So just shower and meet me in the conference room for breakfast,” Tanaka explains before he pushes off his side of the bed, fully dressed as he places clean clothes for you on his dresser. Yachi probably gave them to him this morning and you remember you have to apologize to her today since you most likely sent her into cardiac arrest last night.

Lethargy and anticipation dictate the way you go about your morning, hardly remembering how you ended up sitting between Tanaka and Yamaguchi at the first officer strategy meeting of the day, showered and your gash freshly wrapped. Suga and Daichi are running it, images of the city’s infrastructure holographically displayed above the switchboard. The 3D landscape spinning and flickering as they outline different plans for tonight.

You didn’t realize your leg was bouncing beneath the table until Tanaka’s hand spread out on your thigh to stop it. “You listening?” He questions staring at you intently. Your thoughts have honestly traveled elsewhere, so you shake your head no.

“Do you have the tracking device?” Daichi repeats.

“Oh, no I don’t,” you lean forward and adjust your posture. “I slipped it into Oikawa’s pocket before he lost his shit, but I’m not sure if it survived the crash,” you explain, recalling the exact moment when he was gripping your chin, the distraction of your dagger on his sternum giving you enough time to plant it on him.

“We’ll have to ask Kenma then, maybe he can still locate it. And if that’s the case we’ll be able to see where he is, what he’s up to.”

The meeting continues, your attention drifting in and out trying to formulate a solid plan of your own. Something to ensure that everyone makes it out alive. After your encounter with Iwaizumi you were especially concerned about fighting an army of volunteers. Not that you weren’t confident in the people here, but you managed to plunge your dagger into one of his arteries and he still got up at Oikawa’s demand.

“The tunnels are a no go,” Yamaguchi says at some point when they began deciding on entry routes. “The grenade I threw blocked the only entrance we had into the basement.” You nod in confirmation as you remember the chunks of rubble and debris that were now closing in the stairs.

“The main entrance is our best shot. It’s bold and what they’ll least be expecting. There’s also a chance we could disarm the alarm system if we can break through the firewall. We have the manpower, the only unknown are the volunteers and what they’re fully capable of,” you add on, the floorplan of the estate replacing the flickering city. You stand to describe the various points of entry and what you assume would be the places they are most likely going to have guards stand outside.

“You should have the long range fighters stationed here,” your finger hovers over a patch of tall trees near one of the side doors. “And here,” you shift to point out an area near the front that is also beneath the shadows of the woods.

“Those specialized in hand to hand combat should form the frontlines, while everyone else flanks out in a diamond formation. Yachi in the middle with y/n and Yamaguchi,” Suga suggests while he visually demonstrates the formation on one of the large screens. “Since Yachi doesn’t have much combat experience Tanaka and Terushima will go with them,” he tacks on, giving Tanaka a pointed look.

“And obviously because the two of you are practically useless with your injuries,” Suga teases before he proceeds to assign and explain other roles. The rest of the meeting moves forward without a hitch and everyone agrees on the plan that factored in as many uncertainties as possible. The chairs scrape against the floor as the officers shuffle out to start preparing for tonight.

You stand with Tanaka’s hand in yours and start to make your way through the first floor before you stop in front of one of the only staircases in the building. “I’m actually gonna go visit Kenma,” you explain as Tanaka looks at you silently confused.

“I wanted to ask him a few questions before tonight,” you add as you slip your hand from his and he gives you a solid shrug.

“Alright, I’ll be in the vault, checking the inventory,” he grins, his hands circling your waist to pull you into his sturdy frame. “Maybe I’ll be able to find you a better weapon,” he bends to toy with the dagger on your thigh that you refused to travel without after last night.

“Better?!,” you feign offense. “You don’t think my dagger makes me look sexy?” You grin cheekily at him as his own teasing smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, I always think you look sexy. But you know what would make you look even sexier,” he leans down so that he’s staring directly into your eyes, voice dipping low. “Protection,” his eyes glint with mischief and a knowing smirk settles on his lips.

You shove him lightly and playfully smack the side of his head, his beanie shifting sideways. “Haha so funny,” you roll your eyes as your smile brightens. “Gimme some options and we’ll see.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he responds when you turn around to walk away, his palm smacking your ass as you bound up the steps. “Payback for the beanie,” his hands rise in defense before he winks at you and turns to keep walking down the hall.

You take the steps two at a time like you usually do, except now you have your healing gash as a reminder to slow down. Unlike the other floors in the building the second level is a single large room coined the “Zone” by many of the guys. One half hosts Kuroo’s test lab, usually unkempt with sulfur and boiling chemical concoctions covering the surfaces. The other half belongs to Kenma with his various half built devices stuck between keyboards and multicolored wires.

While Kuroo often ventures out into the other rooms of the hideout to seek socialization, you can always find Kenma sitting exactly where he is now. Headset nestled over his ears, hair pulled back in a messy bun with his controller tight in his hands.

You walk up behind him and pull one of the cuffs from his ear. “Hey loser,” you release the set from your grasp so it snaps back on to his head, this time all lopsided.

“Not a loser,” he responds as he shakes his head so that the headphones fall back around his neck. His screens flashing a bold ‘victory’ to affirm that he is, in fact, not a loser.

“You are the only person I know who can play video games the day our world might end,” you say with a laugh when he shoots you an apathetic stare.

The relationship between you and Kenma developed rather naturally, a sibling connection unfolding before either of you realized. On your many sleepless nights wandering and exploring the compound you often found yourself here. At first, you stumbled upon him accidentally in the middle of the night, while everyone else was either asleep or working on their own projects to prepare for the upcoming conflicts. He awkwardly invited you to sit with him as he played or tinkered with new or semi thought out inventions. You really only watched at first, curiosity overcoming your intentions to not disturb him, but you soon found yourself asking questions. The questions turning into overnighters where he would teach you how to play his favorite games or help him code software he would embed in his tiny devices.

He puts his remote down and swivels in his chair to face you. “I was brainstorming,” the corner of his lips quirk up a little as he gets up and bumps your shoulder with his to step around you.

“Brainstorming what exactly?” You ask, your eyes following his thin frame as he walks to his crafts table and picks up a few things. He tilts his head to signal for you to walk over to him. “I’ll show you.”

You move to stand beside him and he hands off the small devices to you. You inspect them and realize they are watches, complete with a touch screen center and small dials on each side.

“These are reinforcement devices,” he says. “I don’t have enough for everyone but you clasp them around your wrist and twist the dials. A shield will manifest from here,” he points to the watch’s face, and what you incorrectly assumed was a touch screen surface is actually a reflection of the software’s veil.

“This is actually the code you helped me develop a few weeks back.” You smile up at him fondly, remembering the argument you got into after he refused to explain what it was for.

“How many do you have?”

“Six are complete,” he answers. “But I also have this.” He grabs a larger cylindrical device from a shelf attached to the wall.

“This is essentially a bigger version of those. The shield covers way more surface area. You can stick it to a wall or door, enter the pin and the shield will reinforce the structure to protect whatever’s inside,” he finished explaining before he places it back on the shelf.

“When did you have time to do all of this?” His production rate when it comes to his inventions is impressive to say the least.

He takes some of the reinforcement devices from you to organize them beside the others. “You know I hardly sleep,” he shrugs as if his lack of rest doesn’t bother you.

You open your mouth to voice this for the millionth time, but he lifts his finger to shush you. “Don’t. I get it,” he interrupts.

“Fine. But this doesn’t explain why you were brainstorming,” you say instead of nagging him about his awful sleep schedule, not that yours was really any better.

“Right,” he slides you over by your shoulders to switch spots. “This is for you,” he opens the locker in the corner of the room to pull something out. It’s another round device about two inches thick with small legs to hold it up.

“What’s this?” Your intrigue successfully piqued.

“Just watch,” he walks to Kuroo’s lab table and pushes some stuff around to clear a spot.

“I’ve been working on this for a while now,” he grabs his phone from his back pocket and punches in his password and then opens an app. The device begins to illuminate as streaks of ultraviolet waves burst through the top. “It’s a simulation machine that kinda works. I can’t seem to get the graphics right for some reason, hence the gaming,” he explains.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have been playing regardless,” you say, which earns you an eye roll from him and a chuckle from you.

“Pay attention,” he points to the device, redirecting your attention instead of answering you. There’s a distinct humming noise before the room’s image starts to ripple. A pixelated version of a beach envelopes the room warping and disguising the furniture.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s an illusion that can trick enemies into believing they are somewhere else,” he whispers, looking a bit sheepish. “I’ve only been able to generate this stock photo, but eventually I want it to replicate different rooms or even scenery we haven’t experienced in a while.”

“Kenma,” your voice is wistful as you absorb the sway of the palm trees, the gentle rolling of the waves lapping the shores. “This is amazing. H-how did you do this?”

“I had Yachi’s help. She came up one night freaking about the control center’s algorithm and asked if I could help since you and Yamaguchi were already asleep. We ended up talking about sunsets, mainly her rambling,” he lightly snorts. “So I showed her some games with high resolution graphics that had some pretty cool sunsets and she came up with this. She coded it really quickly while I built it. I just haven’t been able to fix the kinks.”

You were near tears. The words escaped you, but mostly because you could never describe what you were feeling out loud. The snapshot of a panicking Yachi running to Kenma makes you laugh because there is no way he calmed her down without having a silent stroke of his own.

“And this is for me?” You ask for clarification before the tears really start falling.

“Yeah,” he raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Other than computer engineering, you are really the only thing we have in common.”

“Kenma, I-,”

“Woah!” You both turn to what used to be the floor’s entrance, which is now limitless sand. “The beach! This is so cool!” Hinata squeals, his eyes lighting up with wonder and amazement.

“Oh hey, Shoyo,” Kenma fumbles with his phone to turn off the display.

“What’s up?” You’re grateful for his interruption, afraid you were about to become a sobbing mess in front of Kenma, which he would not have appreciated.

“Tanaka asked me to come get you,” his smile is wide and enthusiastic. “Said something about your options being ready.”

“Of course he actually went through with it,” you shake your head not the slightest bit surprised.

“Also said if you don’t hurry he’s not afraid to kick some ass,” Hinata adds on, his smile turning impishly cheeky.

“Of course he did,” you laugh before turning back to Kenma, who’s a subtle shade of red.

“We aren’t done here,” you tell him, knowing how flushed he gets when he’s alone with Hinata and you walk away from him backwards until you’re standing behind your new guest. “Watch him, he’s known to cause trouble,” you whisper to Hinata but it’s still loud enough from him to hear you.

“Oh, I know,” he plays along, only for Kenma’s neck to burn a brilliant red as Hinata steps further into the Zone. You make kissy faces behind his back to tease him as much as possible before you run down the stairs, narrowly missing the object he threw at you.

June 17, 2065

4:57pm

The gun is spinning on the turntable in front of you. The gun you and Tanaka compromised on. It’s a small black pistol, the deep metal drinking in the harsh light from the screens lining the walls as it spins and spins. In the center of the room, Yachi is typing vigorously, the reversal code practically finished, but she tended to be a perfectionist, so you sit beside her waiting for it to be done.

“I can help,” you offer, hoping she will let you this time. She just glances at you, a flick of anxiety flashing in her gaze before she shakes her head no.

“Why not?”

“It’s already done,” she responds, fingers still tapping on the keys. “I just have to double check if everything is in order.”

“Well, what is it?” You’ve been begging for her to share the code with you, trying to convince her that it would be smarter if more than one person had it, especially if she’s not able to reach the control center in time.

“Not telling you,” her hair falls to cover her face as she looks down at her stilled hands. “It has to be me. I just need for you to get me there.”

“Yachi, c’mon, at least tell Yams,” you argue, not understanding why she won’t share the information with anyone.

“S-sorry,” is all she says in response, and you let out an agitated sigh because you won’t win this argument. “What’s with the gun?” She motions towards it with her hand as she leans back in her chair, avoiding the initial topic.

“Tanaka doesn’t believe my dagger is enough protection,” you look back down at the spinning gun and your chest tightens at the mere idea of having to use it. “It was this or a fucking katana.”

She laughs, the abruptness startling you, but she doubles over and wheezes. A blush is blooming on her cheeks at the lack of oxygen going to her lungs, her laugh turning into hiccups and breathless gasps. It’s contagious, your own laugh soon wracking through you.

“I don’t get it,” you say through snorts. “What’s so funny?”

“I cannot imagine you wielding a katana,” tears of laughter are decorating her face. “You’d probably accidentally cut off your own arm before you manage to land it on anyone else.” She’s wiping the tears from her eyes as her breath slowly returns, her cheeks still flushed a pretty pink.

“I take offense to that. I would be such a badass with one,” you rebuttal.

“Sure,” she squeaks out.

“I just might need a little practice first.”

She falls into a fit of giggles again, probably imagining you tripping over the long blade forgetting that she’s the clumsy one. Your cheeks are hurting from smiling, a warmth rooting itself within you, and for the first time in weeks the flower of hope feels like it will bloom soon. The delicate petals unfurling with a promise of prosperity, a promise that things will be okay.

“Hey,” Tanaka bursts through the door, a little out of breath like he ran here. “Kenma was able to track Oikawa. He’s still at the estate, probably never left.”

“You think he’s still alive?” You jump from your seat, Yachi at your side in an instant.

“Definitely. Yamaguchi said you left him in the basement, but Kenma can see his movements and he’s currently on the move.”

“But what if it’s not him? What if someone just found his body and is carrying it around?” You are skeptical, unsure if Oikawa was able to survive two gunshot wounds and a crash.

“First of all, that’s nasty,” he wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Second of all, I don’t think it matters. The person, Oikawa or not, is heading to the control center. We have five hours before the thing is set to explode, so we leave in four.”

“Got it. The reversal code is ready,” Yachi interjects before you can. “I’m ready,” she straightens her shoulders, eyes determined as she meets yours.

You grab the gun that is now still on the table and place it in the holster on your hip. “Me too.”

June 17, 2065

9:22pm

The front of the estate is surrounded by steel poles, roughly 16 feet tall. Weaved between each pole are copper wires that conduct heat and electricity constantly, making it difficult to enter without burns or electric shocks. Fortunately, Kenma was able to hack into the compound's firewall rather easily since it had been abandoned for months and disconnected the alarm system.

The group gathers around the front gate, those who specialize in combat form the first row and once you enter the plan is to split into various smaller groups. You would head straight to the control center with Yachi and Yamaguchi, while Tanaka and Terushima serve as bodyguards. Yamaguchi’s ankle is doing better, his limp gone and the reinforcement device adorning his wrist. You are all wearing bulletproof vests, the material surprisingly thin and breathable as it’s strapped over your tank top. Your cut is safely hidden beneath it.

The gates are set to open at 9:30, the distance fighters successfully hidden in the trees while everyone else fans out on either side of your group. Kuroo managed to hand out flash grenades and smoke bombs to every unit, the sulfur in the lab results of failed bombs that blew up prematurely. You search the crowd counting the bodies, committing the number to memory; twenty-six, hoping that it will be the same when you exit tonight.

Kenma is standing next to Kuroo and you watch as he sends up a mini drone. The device flying into the trees and an image of Hinata and Nishinoya flash on his phone. The boys are settled high up in the trees, Noya’s crossbow strapped to his back, while Hinata is busy tying knots into rope, his knives and shuriken hidden beneath his clothing.

You start to feel the signs of a tension headache strain your neck, the anticipation sucking your soul from the confines of your skin. Tanaka is kneeling in front of you and you stare at the muscles of his back flex and relax through his black sleeveless shirt as he laces up his boots. Once he’s finished he twists on the balls of his feet to face you, hands going to check your laces and tucking the hem of your cargos into them, your ankles thanking him for the extra support.

“It’s almost time,” he whacks your thigh so you look down at him. “You ready?”

You give him a small nod, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You remember the plan, right? Once we enter those doors you stay behind me. I’ll say when the coast is clear, but if things get too crazy, Yachi is the priority,” he rises from his position. “Get her to the control center, then find me. Don’t do anything irrational,” he finishes.

You give him a nervous laugh, “I’ll try.”

“No, it’s not you’ll t-”

“I’m kidding, Ryu,” you cut him off.

“Not funny, love,” he turns around to settle next to Terushima, whose arm is extending behind him, pinky linking with Yamaguchi’s.You link your arms with Yachi’s as you wait, only five more minutes left.

“Welcome!” Everyone’s attention snaps to the balcony above the double doors of the entrance. Oikawa is standing there, pale and bloody. “I wasn’t expecting to have this many guests come to watch the end with me. This is so heartwarming.”

The gates creak and shudder as they shuffle open. Volunteers begin to reveal themselves from their hiding spots to gather at the front doors, but no one on your side of the gates moves. Your hand wraps around the hilt of your dagger and your stance shifts so that Yachi is partially blocked by you.

He spots you in the crowd and he has the nerve to smirk at you, the once endearing gesture looks pained on his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. A daunting beauty transforming his features. “Oh, darling, I’ve been expecting you,” he waves with his good hand, his injured arm is supported with a sling.

“I’m sure you’re glad to see me alive, but Iwa didn’t make it,” you can’t tell if he actually is pained by this with the way he sulks and leans on the rails. “So obviously I can’t let you leave here alive,” he giggles, almost drunkenly. “An eye for an eye or whatever they used to say.”

“I’ll kill him,” Tanaka snarls, gun pointing at Oikawa. You grip his arm to yank it down, fully aware that now is not the time.

“What was that about being irrational?” You hiss at him so he lowers his weapon. Oikawa sees this and you watch his entire demeanor change, his taunting gaze igniting into something far more terrifying.

“Who’s this, princess? You brought me a new toy?” His tone is flat, monotone. “Since you killed my last one!” You flinch at the rise in his voice, the rebels frozen in disbelief, a motivating fear beginning to billow through the crowd.

“We need to move,” Daichi’s deep voice diminishes Oikawa’s immediately. “NOW,” he screams and he’s the first on the move, gun firing shot after shot in the volunteers’ direction.

“STOP THEM!” Oikawa’s shrill shriek is hardly heard above the sounds of battle, but the volunteers do not hesitate. Their smell smacking the air from your lungs, no description adequate enough to warn you. Yachi’s hand is now firm in yours as you run close behind Tanaka. Your dagger unsheathed as your biceps tense with untapped energy. You slip through the front doors quickly, most of the fighting designated to those who formed the front lines.

You deduce that the volunteers are abnormally strong as you witness them tear metal like paper, and crack the estate’s concrete in single punches. Luckily, they are incredibly slow, their limbs swing and jerk in unsynchronized movements, as if they are babies taking their first steps. The rebels on the other hand are nimble, even the largest members fight with the agility of trained ballerinas, their movements fluid and graceful.

You yell for Tanaka and Terushima to take the stairs down to the basement. The claustrophobic idea of being stuck in an elevator is enough to stop your heart. Terushima reaches the door first, the force with which he tears it open rips it from its hinges.

You fly down the first flight, your grip on Yachi never loosening. Yamaguchi brings up the end, he’s holding nunchucks that you have no idea where he got them from. He flicks his wrist to swing them at one of the volunteers that followed you, the wood thwacking against her nose, splatters of blood erupt from her skull and dot Yamaguchi’s skin as she crumples to the floor, her body splaying out across the steps. “Don’t stop running!” He yells, hand grabbing Yachi’s elbow pushing you down the final flight to the basement.

The elevator dings at the end of the hallway, a ghastly Oikawa steps through and you catch a glimpse of silver. At first, you thought it had to be his veins visible through his milky skin, but now you can see the thin lines of silver snaking throughout his body. “He did not look like that yesterday,” Yamaguchi skids to a stop behind you.

Tanaka and Terushima have their weapons raised in front of you, a spear twirling in Teru’s hand. “Where’s the control room, Oikawa?” Tanaka calls out, his voice dripping with poison.

“Why would I tell you when they already know?” He quips, his retort losing substance when a wet cough breaks through his chest. “As you can see I can’t put up much of a fight,” he coughs again, dribbles of thinning blood leaks from his lips. “Iwa’s device doesn’t suit me too well,” he leans his neck to the side, a sickening pop coming from it.

“Iwa’s what?” You say it before you mean to, the situation only becoming creepier with every drop of new knowledge.

“You see, when Iwa was crushed, I found his body in the rubble. The implants we use jutting out from the skin between his shoulder blades, so I tore it out,” he staggers towards your group, the leg he was shot in scraping against the floor with each step. “I inserted it into the bullet wound above my knee,” he points to his twisted leg. “That way Iwa and I will always be together.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Terushima says behind his hand as he gags. The smell of rotting flesh and rusty metal wafting through the hall with each drag of Oikawa’s leg.

You know he’s not down here alone, that he probably has volunteers stationed somewhere near the control center, but that’s down the hall, through another room. The five of you don’t stand a chance alone without knowing exactly how many are here. You also know that Oikawa’s breaths are numbered, his body actively rejecting the implant stealing away his time like he’s stalling yours.

“But if you really want to know,” he draws in a shallow breath and stops a few feet away from your group. “The control center is down this hall through that room,” he points to his right, the door cracked open. “I’ll let you pass, but good luck. I already input the code,” he inches towards the door and dramatically looks at his watch. “Seems like you only have 8 minutes.” 

He wags his fingers at you as he leans into the door, his weight pushing it open fully and he disappears in the darkness. Tanaka’s running first, fluidly rushing to the open door, but before he reaches it many of the other ones open. Decaying bodies hauling the burden of their transformation into the corridor. “Ryu, wait!” You call out to him but he’s already surrounded. He unsheathes the sword strapped to his back and swings it out in a swift circular arc to force the volunteers back. You count seven in total, all focused dangerously on your boyfriend. 

Terushima bends down in front of the three of you and unzips the pouch clipped around his hips. “Fall back,” he says.

“What’re you gonna do?” Yamaguchi bends at the waist to look over his shoulder. “I’m gonna use one of the stun grenades to distract them. Tanaka’s quick on his feet and he’ll know he only has a split second to escape. But first I need you guys to fall back.”

You’re hesitant at first, but Yachi tugs you away from them while Yamaguchi follows, still a step ahead. “Tanaka, get ready!” Terushima yells before he pulls the clip and tosses it. The grenade rolling to a stop at Tanaka’s feet. 

“Get down,” you turn to tackle Yachi in your arms, your body shielding her from any fallout. The flashes and popping noises signaling its detonation. You look up when some of the noise dies down, the door leading to the control center swinging wildly while the volunteers trip over themselves, disoriented and scattered at the end of the hall. You missed the exact moment, but three of the volunteers were now on the ground, their implants sliced out from their shoulder blades. The pincers on the devices opening and closing in search for their host. 

“Thanks, Tanaka,” Teru whispers in awe. “Impressive bastard took three of ‘em out on his own and discovered that you disable them by removing those creepy shits,” he laughs.

“Okay, babe, we’ll go in before the ladies,” he stands and helps Yamaguchi to his feet. “You take the small one in the corner. Leave the three big guys to me,” he smirks. 

“Now’s not the time to compete, Teru,” Yamaguchi sighs, grabbing a switchblade from his pocket, while clutching the revolver in his other hand.

“A little healthy competition never hurt nobody,” he nudges Yamaguchi with his shoulder, sending him a sly wink. “Trust me.” 

The boys bolt forward, weapons in hand as they twirl in combat, the first heavy body thumping to the ground. They clear the path for you and Yachi quickly, the space in front of the door now empty.

You grab Yachi and book it. Your concern for Tanaka’s safety rises exponentially as you rush to the control center, where he and Oikawa surely are.

The room opens up and near the center you see Oikawa and Tanaka arguing loudly, Tanaka’s gun pointing at Oikawa while he grips the sword behind him to keep the volunteers at bay. The control center is blinking, digital numbers floating above the panel counting down ominously. You have five minutes left and the prospects of disabling the system are low. The ring of volunteers lining the perimeter is your main obstacle because at any given moment their motionless blank stares could be activated. 

“What do we do?” Yachi whispers hurriedly beside you, no one noticing the two of you enter the room yet. 

“We get you to the panel in the next five minutes. How?” You’re trying to think as fast as possible. “I don’t know yet.” Thoughts are racing through your mind, words popping out to form some coherent thought before you rattle out your best plan. 

“I’ll distract Oikawa. You run as fast as you can to the panel,” you suggest. “And we pray some of the other rebels show up as back up.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan,” Yachi bites the nail on her thumb.

“Well unless you have something better, I can’t think of anything else,” you respond, eyebrows raised and she shakes her head no. 

“So just walk behind Oikawa and hopefully he won’t see you. Once you’re out of his line of sight I’ll say something to get his attention,” you explain.

“Got it,” she nods, releasing your hand as she steps across your body to start moving towards the control center. The boys are still arguing and you get the sense that Tanaka knows you're there. Coincidentally, maneuvering his body to obscure Yachi until she isn’t visible to him.

“Tooru,” your voice echoes in the chamber. “How about we talk this out?”

His voice dies in his throat once he notices you. Somehow surprised that you would chase them down here. “I know I blew up on you in the past but just give me another chance. We can stall all of this,” you wave your hands around at the control center and all the volunteers. “And maybe come to a compromise.” 

Four minutes.

“Compromise? As if you even know the meaning of the word, princess,” there’s no endearment in his tone anymore. Just condescension and disgust. “I’ll start by killing your boyfriend and you can watch me. Then I’ll kill all your pathetic friends. Saving my sweet, sweet love for last,” his voice is eerily flat, similar to when he was speaking from the balcony earlier. 

Three minutes, twenty-three seconds.

“You son of a bitch, I’d like to see you try,” Tanaka growls, the sword that was pointed at the volunteers now positioned over Oikawa’s chest. “I’ll tear your heart out before you can lay a finger on her.”

“I sense a challenge,” Oikawa chuckles and steps so the tip of the sword is touching his chest. “Let’s test that. You heard him, right guys? Why don’t we see if this knight in shining armor can save his damsel in distress,” he knows he’s going to die here, he’s smiling from ear to ear at Tanaka and he reaches to wrap his hand around the sharp edge of the sword, blood spilling from his palm down his wrist. “Kill them.”

The volunteers bumble forward, their numbers overwhelming the three of you. Tanaka pulls his sword from Oikawa’s hand to go after them. Yachi is almost to the control panel, but a volunteer suddenly blocks her path, lunging to crush her beneath their fists. You sprint for her, she has a knife on her leg but it’s clear she forgot to reach for it. She ducks beneath their arm, she’s surprisingly agile despite her frequent clumsiness. There’s an opening between the monstrosity’s legs as they stupidly move to follow her. You slide on your knees straight between their legs to slice through their achille’s heel, cutting off the function of their lower body. They faceplant by Yachi’s feet as she shrieks from nearly being crushed as you climb the limp body, your fingers locating the implant and stabbing into the tough skin, the implant wiggling in your hands as you tear it out. The device latches on to your pointer finger to dig into your skin. You scream and shake it off immediately and it lands at Yachi’s feet before she stomps on it like a bug, the crunching resembling the sound of a cockroach beneath her boot.

There’s a grunt from Tanaka’s direction and you see he’s pinned Oikawa to the floor between his knees. The tussle looks like it’s in his favor when Oikawa rips the implant from the wound above his knee and attempts to insert it into the smooth skin of Tanaka’s neck. You stare as he screams in pain, the pincers scratching and cutting into him. You’re too far to use your dagger, you won’t make it before the implant is successfully transferred to him, so you reach for the pistol on your hip. You hold it out in front of you preparing your shot but it’s too risky. Tanaka’s back is to you and only with perfect aim will you be able to land a shot on Oikawa from over his shoulder, the trembling of your hands only worsening the situation.

Two minutes, twenty-five seconds.

The time will be out before you shoot your gun, before Yachi will make it to the control center. Despair ruining your disposition and any confidence you would have had taking this shot is snatched from you as Tanaka screams in pain. You position the gun as best you can, praying to any divine being who happens to hear you to bless you with perfect aim. You begin to squeeze the trigger, forcing your eyes to stay open, when an arrow comes whizzing past your cheek, the speed of it burning the soft skin. You stare in astonishment as it lodges itself in Oikawa’s eye, blood spraying everywhere from the impact and his body slumps to the ground, hand still clasping the implant as it fidgets in his fingertips. Tanaka cringes when he gets off of him and turns to Nishinoya, whose crossbow is still aimed at them and the tension in your shoulders ease slightly.

Your relief is short lived as you survey the situation. Nearly all of the rebels are here, but there are simply too many enemies and they don’t have enough energy to continue to fight. You jump from your spot to look for Yachi and she’s still running to the panel, the disaster gathered in the room preventing her from reaching it. You know it’s too late. Your naive dream beginning to wither away before your eyes so you rush to go get her. 

“Yachi, stop! It’s over,” You scream over the noise of the chaos around you, bodies strewn across the floor while blood begins to pool and smear everywhere. You are holding her arm, pulling her away from the control center in the middle of the room.

 “It’s not over, how could you give up so easily?! I can do this, you have to trust me! I am the only one who can decode the software. It’s my fault any of this is happening anyway. I did this!” Tears are flowing down her face in a violent stream. Her cheeks red with frustration and stress, eyes pleading with you to let her go. “I put all of you in danger! I’m an idiot and I should’ve been able to figure out their plan, but I had to go and try to prove myself to my mom! I-I had to ruin everything because I was so stupidly naive,” her voice was breaking around every syllable, guilt ripping through her. 

“But I can’t lose you!” The lump in your throat was making it difficult to speak as the only option dawned on you. The only option she is pleading for you trust her with. Tears are stinging at your eyes, threatening to spill over while you try desperately to hold them back. “Y-you’re my best friend,” you’re exhausted, the words sincere as they slide through the space between you. Yachi steps towards you, hand coming up to rest on your cheek to catch the stray tear slipping down. 

“I know and that’s why I need to do this. I need to save you. I need to save Yams. And the others. We can’t lose anymore lives because of something I created,” you let your eyes shut, all the fight you had leaving your body as your grip loosens on her arm. She wraps her arms around you for a final embrace, her body still for once, the trembling gone from her nerves as your arms hold her. “I know I can fix this, but I need for you to get as many people as you can out of here first,” she untangles herself from you. 

“There’s a large safe at the end of this hallway. The code is my birthday. Grab anyone left, anyone still alive and shut yourselves in there. I won’t be able to disconnect the devices in this building because I won’t have enough time so there will still be a loud explosion. When you hear that it’s safe to come out,” she takes a step away from you, expression fixed leaving you no room to argue. 

“O-okay,” you force the word from your lips because this was far from okay, “j-just know that, um, that I love you. So fucking much,” her figure begins to blur as the tears gather in your eyes. 

“I love you too, y/n. Promise me that you will make it out of here. Promise me that you will get to watch the sunset. A real one. For me,” she pleads and you blink to clear your vision, hot tears burning the raw skin of your under eyes. “Yes, I p-promise,” you choke on these last words. 

“Thank you. Now go, please” this is the calmest you have ever seen her as she steps away from you, body turning to clumsily run to the control panel. Time is moving in slow motion. The bodies around you moving in vivid detail. Every swing, punch, and kick are stuttering like a stop motion film. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, all of your functions glitching in a solitary moment of grief. 

“Hey, look at me!” You can hear Tanaka’s voice, see his figure pummeling towards you, but he’s fuzzy, out of focus. You think his hands are on your arms, but it feels distant and cold, a ghost of everything he is. “Hey!” He shakes you aggressively, your brain fighting against the current of sorrow dragging you below the murky surface. “Don’t let the last words you said to her be a lie! Don’t break this promise!” 

You cut through the surface and see Tanaka clearly. He’s covered in blood, his neck bleeding from where Oikawa punctured his skin with the implant. “We have to go. You have to go,” he shoves you to the exit, your motor functions working on autopilot. You grab who you can as you run for the safe. Yelling orders and instructions to anyone who can hear you. 

One minute, seventeen seconds.

Suga’s at your side holding up Ennoshita while Daichi is calling for people to rush to the safe. You make it there first, and incorrectly punch in the code at first, the small numbers duplicating, but you get it right the second try. The heavy door swinging open with surprising ease as you move out the way to let Suga and Ennoshita in before you. A few of the other guys bolt in soon after and you just stand there waiting for Tanaka, waiting for Yamaguchi, and Kenma, and Yachi. 

Yamaguchi cuts the corner first, Terushima on his tail. You feel a flash of relief when you see them, the distance between you closing rapidly. Yamaguchi trips over the step into the safe, but Terushima catches him before he makes contact with the ground, mumbling something to him that you can’t quite make out. 

Tanaka’s next and he’s screaming at you but you hardly hear him over the commotion. You hardly register the distance until he’s right in front of you again. “What are you doing just standing here?!” He yells. “Let’s go,” he practically lifts you into the room and holds your back to his chest against one of the metal walls, preventing you from running out again. 

You can’t tell who else enters the safe, your panic and grief merging in a merciless waltz. The door slams shut and Daichi is the last to come in, his strong hands holding firm on the handle. Your eyes now begin to scan the bodies in the room, some fine with just a few cuts and bruises, others worse, bleeding dangerously from various points in their body. You count like you did before any of this started. 

Twenty-six. Minus one. Twenty-five. 

You start from the corner opposite you, whispering number to face to name. 

Twenty-one, orange hair, brown eyes: Hinata. Twenty-two, flash of blonde, fixed glare: Nishinoya. Twenty-three, disheveled black hair-

“Where’s Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice breaks your trance. There’s only twenty-four people in the safe. 

“Where’s Kenma?” You repeat, fighting Tanaka’s grip to bolt to the door. 

“Daichi!” Kuroo screams. “Answer me!”

“He stayed behind,” Daichi’s shoulders fall in defeat. “Said something about this being his final move. That this was game over for him and the prize for winning would be our lives. Then stuck something on the door and told me to tell you that he’s,” he pauses, his usually solid voice wavering. “He said he’s not a loser.” 

“And you let him?!” Kuroo runs at him, intent on pulling him away from the door and ripping it open. “He’s an idiot! I have to go get him!” Daichi locks Kuroo’s arms behind his back. “Let me go!” He’s kicking and shoving, but Daichi refuses to stand down. “There’s still time! I HAVE TIME TO SAVE HIM!”

“There is no time, Tetsuro! We are out of time!” At this moment the floor rumbles, the walls vibrate as they shield you from the brunt of the blast. Kuroo’s reaction is visceral,  a primal scream blowing out his vocal chords as dust starts to fall from the ceiling. You watch Hinata fall to his knees, the inhibited light dimming in his eyes as his head falls in his hands, body convulsing with sobs. 

00:00

You’re drowning, your lungs are full of water, air sticking to the lining of your esophagus, the burning pain of no oxygen clouding your brain. Your head heavy on your neck, the effort of holding up your body wearing away as you let all of your weight fall back on Tanaka. His own body sliding down the wall until you’re both on the floor, you wailing pathetically between his legs and he just holds you to his chest, even when you resist and scream for him to leave you alone, he silently holds you. 

No one makes a move to leave. The burden of losing people weighing heavy in the tight, crowded room. 

You don’t remember too much after this. The solemn, dreadful walk back to the hideout is syrupy, your body hardly moving through the thickness of desolation. You stumble over bodies and slip on spilled blood, the aftermath of the explosion evident on every surface, making your ascent cumbersome as you climb out. The familiar fog an odd comfort concealing you from intrusive eyes. 

The hideout is stale and uneasy. Your heartbeat pulsing irregularly in your chest, grief induced anesthetic numbing your bloodstream. Tanaka’s room is dark and his bed looks unusually comfortable. You lurch towards it, but Tanaka stops you. His arms pulling you into the bathroom, the shower already running with steam creeping over the top of the glass door. He helps you undress and step into the tub, tying your hair up in a messy bun before the water hits you. He steps in behind you and swipes a wet cloth over your body. Blood, dirt, and dust turning the water at your feet a translucent brown as it disappears down the drain. 

Tanaka wraps new gauze around your waist, the sting of the alcohol barely noticeable anymore. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts as he tucks you into bed. His body settling in beside you, his strong arms cradling you in his embrace as he whispers gentle words of affirmation into your hair. His soothing voice eventually lulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

You wake up unexpectedly, the sounds of your own whimpers breaking the awful silence. “I’m here,” Tanaka pets your hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” he reassures you as his arms press you deeper to his chest. Your fingers clinging to the sheet draped over his bare torso. 

He leans down to pepper kisses across your tear stained cheeks. His lips connecting with every inch of skin. You tilt your face to catch his lips in a slow kiss, his movements initially hesitant. You drift your fingers to outline his collarbone, tracing along each line of muscle and ridge of scar tissue, determined to memorize all his imperfections. Determined to cement the entirety of his physique into your memory so he will never fade if he ever leaves you too. 

Your fingers stop at the waistband of his underwear, toying with the elastic before you venture further down as you sketch the dip of his hip bone, the sharpness of his pelvis, and the strength of his relaxed thigh behind your closed eyelids. He stops you before you can delve deeper. “We shouldn’t,” is all he says, lips still slotted perfectly between yours. 

“I want you, Ryu,” you’re aware of the desperation in your tone, aware of your need for physical touch emitting off of you in heady rays. “Please.” 

He screws his eyes shut, his internal dialogue written all over his handsome features. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, the evidence of his quiet arousal mere inches from your fingertips. He’s afraid of hurting you, afraid of pushing you too far even though you’re asking for this, but you want to show him how much you want him. How much you need him. 

How much you love him.

You gently pry your wrist from his loose grasp to massage the soft skin of his erection, slowing your motions when he stiffens. “Let me,” you plead beneath your breath. 

“Let me feel you, let me know you’re here.” 

You feel him nod above you, his body relaxing into your touch, his hips rutting gently into your palm until he’s painfully hard. He shifts to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head to look at him as he places a lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips smoothing over your features before he melts into you again. His kisses are slow and passionate, a welcome distraction to the flurry of disheartening emotions plaguing you. 

He rolls the both of you over so he’s resting on his elbows above you and removes your hand from his cock to place it over his heart. The action is cheesy but you can feel the heartbeat beneath his muscle. The steady, rhythmic pulse pumping blood through his veins, a sign that he is alive, that he’s breathing and he’s with you. 

You fight the tears begging to spill over, fearing that you might ruin the moment. He strokes your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles beneath the skin of your eyes. 

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” His voice is broken from exhaustion and vulnerability, but his hand moves to shift your panties to the side when you nod for him to continue. His fingers slipping between your folds to gather the slick at your entrance, circling your clit lightly. You lift your hips to roll into his fingers, silently asking for more as your pleasure begins to prickle at your nerves. 

He begins to move away from you and for a moment you think he’s going to stop, instead he pulls himself from his boxers and strokes whatever slick he gathered over his erection. The tip of his cock a blossoming red as he continues to touch himself. “Ryu, hurry,” you whine, impatience beginning to nag at you, body seeking the delirious sensation of pleasure. 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” his voice is soft, the meaning of his words holding avenues of interpretations as he positions himself at your entrance. His arm shakes with strain beside your face as he pushes his head past your initial ring of muscle, stopping midway to thrust shallowly. Despite your begging for him to hurry up, you’re still tense, your walls clenching tight around him. 

“Baby, I need you to relax,” he says through gritted teeth, the efforts of restraining himself lock his muscles into place, but you take a deep breath at his words, allowing your legs to fall open around his hips, crossing your ankles behind the small of his back. 

“Move,” your breath catches in your throat as he thrusts a little deeper that time. “I’ll be fine, just move.” 

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours for even a semblance of doubt. When he doesn’t find it, he rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he sheathes himself inside you entirely. You feel too full when he doesn’t follow through so you wiggle your hips to press firmly into his, a low groan reverberating through his chest as you grind against him, your arms stationed securely around his neck. 

Not too long after he begins to meet the rocking of your hips, his movements deliberate and measured. You keen into his touch as his head falls to rest beside your neck, mouthing the skin to muffle his moans as his pace quickens. 

He slips his arms beneath your back, hugging you tightly to his chest. The new angle sends a jolt of electric pleasure through your veins, his thrusts are determined as he searches for your release. 

“Not gonna last long,” he groans into your neck, fingers digging into your sides as he tries to stall his own release. You’re closer than he thinks though, your head is swimming with euphoria, brain clouded with the tastes of ecstasy. 

“Don’t stop, Ryu. I’m so close,” you beg, your voice dripping with desire. You feel one of his hands move to fist the sheet below you as he breaks his steady pace, the force of his hips jostling you passionately. The pressure building in your abdomen is unbearable, his cock slamming into your sensitive walls fervently. 

“Fuck,” you moan into his ear as your senses crash, your body singing with unexpected bliss. His thrusts begin to falter, his own release on the horizon as his grip on you hardens. 

“M’gonna come,” he stutters out, voice gravelly with need. “Need you to move, so I, shit,” he’s struggling to get his words out as the hand fisting the sheet moves to wrap around your calf. “So I can pull out,” he groans and pushes on your leg to unlock your ankles. 

“No,” you refuse. “Inside, just come inside, please Ryu” he never has, the implications too dangerous for him to ever consider, but right now you need to feel every part of him. 

“Baby,” he whines, his voice an octave higher. The desperation in your tone crumbling his resolve and before he can say no he’s spilling inside you. The sporadic contractions of your walls around his cock coupled with the way you whimper his name against the shell of his ear is what ruins him. 

He collapses on top of you, his dense weight flattening you into the mattress as he twitches inside you. You don’t mind the heaviness, content with falling asleep just like this but he rolls the both of you on your sides, probably realizing he was crushing you. 

His face is still nestled in the groove of your neck when you feel him chuckle against your skin. “Can’t believe you tricked me into doing that?” A small smile stretching his lips on your shoulder. 

“Trick? I wouldn’t it call it that,” a matching smile plays on your features. 

“It was sneaky and you know it.” You laugh despite everything that happened today. 

“I love you,” you never said it back, but you’re certain now as your body flows with appreciation. 

“I love you too.”

June 18, 2065

6:38am

It’s too early to wake up, but your mind disregards your obvious fatigue when you find yourself on Tanaka’s balcony. The events of last night looping perpetually in your head as you stare at the city that was supposed to be demolished. There’s no movement, hardly any noise beside the buzzing neon sign flickering four floors down. It’s as if everyone is in mourning. A victory cause for celebration, but the density of grief burdens the atmosphere. 

“What’re doing up?” Tanaka appears behind you, arms enclosing around your waist. 

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” you reply dryly. He hums behind you and rests his chin on your head as you two watch the sky change from a deep purple to the dull pink that never cuts through the fog. 

“What now?” You ask, not really expecting an answer. 

“I’m not sure,” he shrugs, this transition stretching into miles of uncharted area. 

“We leave,” he says, finally. 

“Where would we even go?” Confusion laces your tone. The two of you have never left Tokyo, partially because it was impossible with the barrier surrounding the city.

“Miyagi,” he says as if he’s familiar with the prefecture. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitate. “There was a project I wanted to complete for,” your voice fades into the early morning. The image of the simulation machine popping into your mind as you remember the pixelated beach glitching in the large room. The last moment you had with him. 

“Bring it with you,” Tanaka suggests as he turns you in his embrace to look at him.

“What’s in Miyagi?” His adamant stare confusing you further. 

“My sister,” he’s never mentioned her before, and you raise your eyebrows in question. “A few of the rebels left here right before you showed up to search for others. She led them,” he explains. 

“I hadn’t heard from her until she called me two days ago. I was worried something happened, but she’s fine,” he shakes his head. 

“I obviously didn’t get the chance to tell you, but she’s there and they found more than they were expecting.”

“How did they even get past the barrier?” 

“Kenma.” His tone softens around his name, but you're not the least bit surprised that he managed to break down the barrier. 

“Of course.” You rest your head against his chest.

“The rebellion is stronger there. We may have a chance to save all of Japan. Not just Tokyo,” you process his words, unsure of how to respond. 

“And,” he cups your neck so you’re staring into his eyes. “The sun sets in Miyagi.”

[mikeisthricedeceased]

Mike, dear, I need to know how much marcus m would love to be held down and ridden. Like arms pinned down over his head no where to go ridden hard and put away wet.

Oh, Julia. I’m so sorry this took so long. It’s been forever and there’s a good chance that you don’t even remember sending this.

I had a good bit of it written out shortly after you sent this, but then decided I didn’t like what I wrote and ended up falling into a long period of writer’s block before I could rewrite it

Hopefully, this kinda makes up for the wait

Warnings: D/s, choking, light roleplay, bruising, fighting as foreplay, very mild degradation

~ Smut 18+ under the cut ~

“I always forget,” Marcus pants as he pushes himself back onto his feet, “that we both end up covered in bruises after doing the ‘Hero and Villain’ thing.” He rolls his shoulder, wincing slightly as the muscle strains before it relaxes.

You laugh breathlessly, holding a hand over where he’d gotten a hit in on your side. “You’re the one that suggested it. I think you just like playing villain sometimes. Get to try out all those pent up one liners.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You got me.”

“C’mon,” you nod to the house and reach for his hand, “we should shower. I don’t want to smell gross when we pick Missy up from school.” Then, you smile and whisper, “Plus, I want to get a few kisses in before she’s home to say ‘ew.’”

When you try to pull him toward the door, he pulls you back. “It’s Friday, honey. Ms. Vox is picking her up.”

It takes you a moment to remember. “The sleepover. Right.”

Marcus hums, smiling softly. “But we can still head to the shower and do some kissing.”

You squeeze his hand as you look him over. “Not yet.” At his look of surprise, you continue, “Since we have the time, I think I want to go another round. I’ll be the villain this time, and you’ll be the dashing hero.”

He grins when you pat his cheek, a brow raised. “Dashing, huh?”

“Oh, very.”

There’s a beat as he just looks at you, considering. “One round?”

You nod, brushing your fingers through the short hair curling over the top of his ear.

He sighs. “Okay. One round.”

~*~*~*~

It starts off like a usual round of sparring; full contact, adding bruises on top of bruises and spiking adrenaline. You exchange breathless quips and dart around one another. No weapons, no powers.

The first time your hand brushes along his ribs instead of fully landing, he assumes it’s a miscalculation and moves to take advantage.

But you twist away like you’re ready for it. Your next strike is the same, barely bumping his shoulder. Things continue like that for a while, skimming touches that ignite a particular form of frustration that he doesn’t usually feel when sparring.

He’s fully onto the game by the time your palm brushes his inner thigh when you duck under his swing. He returns the favor, pressing a hand to your lower back as he steps around you at one point. His pulse spikes when he catches the sharp look in your eyes once you’re face to face again, both shuffling around each other near the edge of the training mat.

“The fences are pretty tall,” you say suddenly, gaze steady on him.

The comment throws him off but you don’t move to take advantage, instead waiting for him to respond. “Fences?” is all he can manage, confused.

He watches your eyes move, can feel them drag down his body.

You meet his gaze again, lips quirking. “No one is coming to your rescue here, Moreno. They won’t even know you’re in danger until it’s too late.”

The offer behind the actual words registers and heat prickles along the back of his neck. “I’m not worried about a rescue. Your tricks don’t work on me.”

“So confident,” you say, subtly pushing forward to get him closer to the edge of the mat, “I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

He wets his lips and nods. “Be my guest.”

The urge to touch him is almost unbearable, only ramping up as you watch his gaze drop to follow a bead of sweat roll down your neck.

You lunge for him and he braces for the impact, but you pull back at the last second. He isn’t prepared for you to twist toward his side and plant a foot behind his leg, using what’s left of your forward momentum as you push his chest, forcing him backward.

Stumbling, he gives a surprised shout and falls back, upper body landing in the grass and legs splayed out on the mat.

You’re on him immediately, straddling his chest and pinning his arms over his head.

His chest heaves under you as he catches his breath, eyes wide.

“Sure you won’t be needing that rescue?”

The look in his eyes burns you from the inside out. You let go of his hands and he tries to reach for you, only to be foiled by a set corded roots wrapped around each of his wrists. He looks at them with a frown. “Thought we said no powers?”

You smile slyly, leaning close to his face. “Villains fight dirty, Marcus,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He huffs.

“If you really want them off, I’ll take them off.” You shift to straddle his hips, your hands sliding down his chest. “Otherwise,” you continue softly, sitting back on the tops of his thighs, “you can stay right where you are,” your finger hooks into the waistband of his shorts and you bite your lip as you meet his eyes, “and we can have a little fun.”

Groaning, he lets his head fall back onto the grass. “Fuck.” He looks back up at you, those soft brown eyes now endless and dark as he squirms between your thighs, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Leave them on.”

“Yeah?”

Even when you’re being a little intimidating with him, he can still see how your expression brightens through it all. Somehow, that makes the whole thing even sexier to him, knowing how pleased you are. The way you’re sliding his waistband down doesn’t hurt either.

Then it’s like all the frustration that had been building up is finally set free. You lean down, catching his mouth in a messy clash as you tug his shorts lower until you can get a hand on him. The angle is awkward, his hips a bit higher than his torso because of how he’s laying halfway off the mat, and you’re barely able to hold yourself over him with one arm.

But you’re kissing him, a hand around his cock while you trace the crown with the tip of your thumb, tasting every gasp and moan as you stroke, and it’s worth the slight twinge in your forearm.

His hips jerk. “Like it when you play the villain,” he grunts.

You hum, biting his lower lip and relishing his sharp intake of breath, how he desperately fucks into your fist when you squeeze him a little tighter. “I like having you where I want you,” you tell him. “And you always look so good when we spar like this. Out of breath, sweaty, hair a fucking mess. Been wanting to ride you since the third round.”

He curses, eyes squeezing shut. You kiss down his neck, the salt on his hot skin making you groan. He swallows and you can feel his throat bob under your lips. “Do it,” he pleads gruffly. “Ride me. Please, baby.”

It’s your turn to curse as you push yourself off of him. Kicking your shoes off, you frantically shimmy out of your workout pants and underwear, only pausing for a moment when you catch sight of him.

He’s watching, lips parted and chest still heaving. There’s a hot blush across his cheeks and down his neck, making him look thoroughly ravished.

And you haven’t even really started yet.

He says your name, voice rough while he blinks up at you and shifts his legs, still restricted by his shorts.

You straddle him again, down on your knees, and kiss him hard. The moan that rises out of him fills your chest and warms your blood. It pushes you to reach down and take hold of him again, to get the angle right and sink down until your moan is mixed with his.

This is usually slow. You’d take your time and explore, toeing the line until neither of you could hold back any longer.

Today, though...today, you’re riding hard and fast because you feel like you’ll combust if you don’t.

So, you kiss him until you can’t breathe, all tongue and teeth and frustration, grinding down on his cock. You sit up and bounce, tugging his shirt up so you can drag your nails over his chest and stomach, steadying yourself while leaving half-moons in his skin.

He tries to hold your gaze but the angle is wrong with his hands tied over his head, and you can see tendons strain in his neck when he holds up his head. So you wrap a hand around his throat to keep him down, making him whine and buck up into you.

“Fearless leader,” you growl, taunting, “so eager to give in. What would your team think?”

Marcus shudders, muscles tensing as his back arches. “Harder,” he gasps.

You dig your nails in and tighten your hold on his neck, earning a voiceless whine. “One nudge in the right direction,” you fuck down onto him hard, “and you completely fall apart.”

His head is full of white noise and everything else is sensation. He hears you tell him to come as you let go of his throat, and there isn’t anything else he can do as his whole body is flooded with pleasure, hot and slick and you, you, you.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to open his eyes but he’s looking up at the sky, panting, feeling your breath against his neck.

“Good boy,” you’re whispering, fingers tangled in his hair, “Did so good for me, Marcus.”

His shoulders ache and the roots are gone but he can still feel where they’d been wrapped around his wrists, the skin itchy.

Slowly, groaning at the shift in position, he brings his arms down and holds you.

“We still have that stuff you make? For the bruises?” he grits out.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, and I can make more if we need it.”

He pats your back. “We might.”

“Painkillers, too.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you snort, kissing his shoulder.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Haikyuu sick/hurt characters headcanons: Karasuno edition!

⚠️ sickness, injuries, phobias, allergies and correlated symptoms ahead. If these themes upset you, proceed with caution. If you use these, credit me, please. ⚠️

Sawamura Daichi:

He doesn't let anyone know when he's sick. He'll show up to practise with a fever of 39°C and say that he's fine if someone points out how warm he is ("It's just overextertion. If you're not warm, it means you haven't been exercising well!")

He doesn't actually believe that he's fine, he knows his limits, but he just doesn't want to alarm anyone.

Luckily, he always manages to hold on until he reaches the bathroom if he's feeling pukey.

When he does get sick, he's very quiet and discreet. He always tries to go back to what he was doing before, insisting that he's okay.

When he's sick or hurt, the other third-years can see through his "I'm okay!" act (remember that time he hit his head and insisted that he was fine to play?), and know how miserable he really feels, so they force him to take it easyー he's no match for Suga, who will use mild violence if that's what it takes to make Daichi give up and rest.

Sugawara Kōshi:

He's anemic, cue to his constantly cold hands (and feet). Because of this, he takes iron pillsー or he should, because he forgets more often than not.

When he forgets the pills, he gets dizzy and weak, and needs to sit down for a bit. Once, he passed out due to anemia during practise, and he doesn't want to repeat that ever again, so he's extra cautious.

It's easy to understand when he's feverish, because he gets unexpectedly sleepy and quiet. He will fall asleep in class without even realising it if his temperature's any higher than 37,5°C.

He rarely gets hurt, but when that happens nobody's sure if he's okay or not. It's not that he denies it, but he simply doesn't say anything ("why didn't you say anything sooner!?" "B-because you didn't ask..?")

Once, he twisted his ankle and walked on it for a little less than thirty minutes before actually asking the coach if he could go get himself some ice. Of course, they didn't send him to get the icepack, but he had to sit there and listen as Coach Ukai yelled at him for not speaking up sooner.

Azumane Asahi:

He gets anxiety-induced stomach aches very often, and that's why he's used to feeling dizzy and to puking. Vomit doesn't scare him anymore.

Whenever he's sick, he runs away from the others; he needs to flee, far away. He loves his teammates, but he's scared that they'll accidentally overwhelm him further, and he doesn't want them to feel guilty.

This man can't stand the sight of blood. Like, at all, not even a little. Not even in movies. When Shimizu got a shallow paper cut, the Coach actually had to physically support him when getting him seated on a bench.

He broke his left index finger when he was a first-year, and as soon as he saw the bone sticking out of the skin (it looked worse than what it really was) he fell backwards and on a very concerned Sugawara without a word.

Cue to lots of tears and puke on the way to the hospital. He was inconsolable, but when Daichi had the idea to hide the injury from his eyes, Asahi managed to calm down a bit. In every situation, it's not the injury that scares him, but the blood.

Nishinoya Yuu:

He's reckless, he won't even notice when he gets injured. Since he's so used to bruises, bumps and shallow cuts, he doesn't understand when he's actually injured.

This guy played a whole set with a sprained wrist before realising that "hey, this feels kinda weird..?" and he didn't tell anyone until the end of the game, when his wrist was visibly swollen.

High pain tolerance plays a major role when he's injured or sick. Still, the others wish he would have a more average pain tolerance, because, once, Nishinoya felt sick during math class, and still claimed he was fine. He thought he was.

When he was rushed to the hospital due to a "mild ache in his lower stomach" that had been going on for two days after the math class incident, along with a 38,7°C fever, he was told that he had appendicitis ("I thought I just ate something bad or that I needed to take a huge dump! How was I supposed to know!? I thought I was fine."). It was clear that he wasn't, in fact, fine.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

He will try to toughen everything out and ignore the pain until it gets unbearable. Be it an injury or some sickness, he will automatically ignore it if he doesn't think it's serious enough to be life-threatening.

That's why he almost died when he ate one of the peanut butter cookies that Yachi had baked. Turns out, allergies do existー but he wished he'd found out in a different way. Sometimes, "My throat's kinda itchy. Does my tongue look... too big? It... it feels too big." can be synonym of "Hospital, now." Bless Takeda-sensei.

The time when he collided with Daichi, Tanaka completely ignored the fact that his arm hurt, and only realised when he took his shirt off in the locker-room and heard a screech from Yamaguchi. The bruise went from his shoulder to his elbow, blue and swollen. Cue to lots of pain relief cream and ice packs.

Ennoshita Chikara:

He never broke a bone in his whole life, but he's very good at dealing with it when it happens to someone else. He's just fascinated by how the human body works, and sometimes people think he's being cold in front of someone else's pain, when he's really just being logical.

He's good at dealing with his own pain too, though he rarely gets hurt or sick.

When he gets sick, he recovers pretty rapidly, but this leads him into relapse. That's why he's not allowed back to practise for a whole week after he recovers ("I'm fine. I've been fine for three days already, my fever wasn't even that high..." "Last time you said you were fine, you almost got pneumonia. Go home.").

He gets bad allergies during spring, and takes a lot of antihistamine pills which make him sleepy. He often has to excuse himself from class to go take a nap in the infirmaryー the teachers and the nurse know, so they always allow him to.

Narita Kazuhito:

This man is the embodiment of health. His diet and lifestyle will probably allow him to live until past the age of 100.

That's why he's not used to getting sick. And when he does, he's a confused mess with no idea of what to do with himself.

When he puked on himself after practise he was so shocked that he chuckled nervously and stood still, frozen, until Kinoshita and Ennoshita dragged him to the bathroom. He almost found the whole ordeal funny.

Kinoshita Hisashi:

He really despises vegetables and fruit, and often gets mocked because of it. He often stuffs himself with sweets and fried food until he feels sick ("But... how? That cake had strawberries in it! It's supposed to be healthy!").

He gets very bad seasickness. Once, his friends decided to drag him to Miyajima: he spent the time on the ferry and first hour on the island puking his guts out.

The thing he doesn't do good with is fainting: if someone passes out in front of him, he does the same, always. When Daichi passed out in the middle of the court, Kinoshita was thankful that Narita was there to hold him up, because he was ready to leave the land of the living.

Kageyama Tobio:

Always denies everything ("my nose is not bleeding!!") and this only makes everything worse for him. If he feels shaky, he won't take a clue and sit down; instead, he'll push himself and end up falling down on whoever's closest to him ("Daichi-san, nice receive!" "Now's really not the time, Hinata...").

When he gets sick, he gets sick hard. The flu has him puking all day long, with a fever of 39.5°C that, he insists, is not that high. His family and friends are smart enough to understand that he's lying. Not even the doctors and nurses at the E.R. can convince him that he's sick.

To be fair, he does not lie when he says that he's not hurt or sick: he genuinely thinks that whatever's going on with him is normal and not that bad.

He accidentally tripped on the leg of a desk in class, and fell face first into the teachers'. The deep, bleeding cut on his forehead wasn't enough for him to understand that he needed to go to the infirmary, and he just sat back at his desk, apologising for the mess. Turns out that his "little cut" needed six stitches in the end, and that his "mild headache" was, in fact, a mild concussion. He showed up to practise the following day anyway, and the Coach had to physically prevent him from joining.

He doesn't do good with nausea, though; he doesn't mind fevers, joint-pains, blood, bruises, or the act of throwing up itself. But when he feels nauseous he actively wishes to pass out, because anything is better than dealing with feeling like that. That's why he'd rather stick his fingers down his throat to get rid of the nausea already than waiting for it to pass naturally.

This got worse when he started suffering from migraines. As soon as he feels one starting to build behind his eye, he throws himself over the toilet, waiting for the dreaded nausea to come so that he can get rid of it before it gets too bad. He stays like that for hours if that's what it takes.

Hinata Shōyō:

He pukes a lot, and for a number of reasons: nervousness, motion sickness, fear, hungerー this guy can't even take it to the bathroom.

His guts are a mess, and he either vomits or poops every time he feels any strong emotion (which is...pretty often, for him). Thank goodness his friends always have pills that help with motion sickness with them, along with antiacid pills and sparkling water, and that Kiyoko and Yachi often restock the bus and everyone's backpacks with paper bags.

The higher the fever, the more he moves. Ever since he was a kid, a fever has never stopped him, and to be fair, fevers make him feel more motivated and energetic. He takes "Hey, no. Sit down, drink up, and rest." as an insult because "I'm fine. You're benching me because you think I suck, huh!? But I was doing fine! I- I was being good, right..?"

Yes, fevers make him emotional. He'll cry for anything once they make him admit that he's sick. He mostly cries because "How could I get sick? I'm going to be useless! I should've paid more attention, I should've been better!" but Kageyama knows for sure that he saw a feverish Hinata crying over a picture of his sister, for some reason.

He doesn't mind blood when he's the one to be bleeding, but if it's someone else, he freaks out. Seeing someone else having a bloody nose or bleeding from some injury, even small and insignificant, makes his stomach flip.

Tsukishima Kei:

He's never said "I'm in pain." in his whole life. The most honest statement he managed to grit out was "It kinda hurts.", but he never said anything more than that. He won't show himself being so vulnerable, ever.

Whenever he has to go to the optometrist, he won't eat anything for at least half a day before the appointment, because he knows for sure that he's going to throw up after the doctor dilatates his pupils.

He's a quiet puker, and he always locks himself up in the bathroom, which can be dangerous in those situations. After that time when he passed out after throwing up, his mother got an extra key of the bathroom, and always lingers close to the door when she knows that her son's about to be sick.

If anyone tries to interrupt him when he throws up or when he's in acute pain, he will yell at them. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, but he hates how everything feels so crowded around him when he's down. The only person who's brave enough to help him when he's like that is Yamaguchi, mostly because he's used to hearing his angry words (even if Tsukishima's never insulted him personally).

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Terribly emetophobic, he won't throw up even if he has to. He just won't do that, no way... Which is cruelly ironic, since he gets sick pretty often due to anxiety and weak immune system. Tsukishima doesn't mind helping him out (but he would never step close to anyone else when they're sick) but he can be a bit rough sometimes; this both reassures and agitates Yamaguchi. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if you don't throw up now." doesn't sound too kind, but when Tsukishima adds "it'll make you feel better, I promise." Yamaguchi feels a bit calmer. He’s also a loud puker.

He's a type-2 diabetic, though he has it under control and hasn't had any problem related to that in a while, not since the beginning of middle school, at least. Still, sometimes he needs to reluctantly sit practise out because he's obviously too shaky and weak to strain himself that much. When that happens, they all make sure that someone sits with him to make him feel less alone... and he appreciates it immensely.

He's on anxiety meds, but they make him feel dizzy sometimes, which leads him into a spiral of panic for fear that he'll get sick. It's a huge contradiction, really, and he hates it with his whole soul.

He's one of the people in the team who can handle others' sickness and injuries better; it might shock him for a second, but he's ready to jump into action and solve the problem in order to help his friends out.

Injuries don't scare him, though the worst thing that ever happened to him was when he got punched in the face by a bully. He also broke his arm in middleschool once though he doesn't remember muchー maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was that it hurt less than he imagined. The punch freaked him out more than that.

Yachi Hitoka

She's a good caretaker, but an absolute mess when it comes to taking care of her own injuries and sickness.

She's clumsy so she's not new to bruises and cuts, but this doesn't mean that she doesn't freak out a bit whenever she sees blood on her legs or arms. On their way home from school, one day, Hinata and Yamaguchi decided to get her band-aids with little chicks and kittens on them. She finished the 30-pack in less than a month.

She got her period a bit late in life, a couple of months before turning 15, and whenever she's on her period, it hits her like a train at full-speed in the guts. Kiyoko taught her some yoga moves that help with the cramps, and the boys never bother the two of them when they see them doing yoga in the corner of the gym. In fact, they also bought her an electric heating pad for her birthday along with an indecent amount of chocolate that didn't fit in Yachi's bag (and various other presents not concerning periods).

Shimizu Kiyoko:

The scars on her legs are fully healed, yet the skin there is thinner, and so the wounds reopen whenever she accidentally hurts herself there. They sting quite a bit, and though it's unusual, she hisses out loud when it's bad. Everyone agreed to make sure that medkit is always equipped with antiseptic cream. To this day, Kiyoko insists that it isn't necessary, but they disagree.

She always knows what to do when someone else feels sick, but she's unsure about what she'd do in case of her own sickness. She hasn't been sick in too long to know.

She hasn't gotten a cold since elementary school, and that one time when she thought she'd caught something, when she sneezed at the age of 16, it was actually just a bit of dust allergy. She doesn't even need meds for it.

Takeda Ittetsu:

He hardly gets sick, but he ends up hunched over the toilet more often than not after a Friday night out with his friends. He drinks quite a bit for a teacher, but only when he knows that he can do that without compromising his career or setting the wrong example. Hangovers also leave him a messy wreck, and that's why he only drinks on Fridays: that way, he has until Sunday night to recover.

For someone who's constantly surrounded by teenagers, he doesn't get sick much. He catches a cold every now and then, but nothing more serious than that. And when he's sick, he always tries to prevent the others from catching what he's got, without actually taking care of himself to heal.

Once, he got a fever of 40,1°C and luckily for him Ukai was coming over to discuss about the volleyball club; he found Takeda sprawled face-down in front of the open door. He was boiling, so Ukai took him to the hospital where he stayed for two days. ("I didn't think it was this bad." "So you knew you had a fever and still went to work?" "Yeah, but I had a mask on so that the others could be safe." "And you didn't buy medicine in the meantime?" "Ah, no." "...what the hell!?").

Ukai Keishin:

He catches a cold every other month, no matter how many layers of clothes he wears. These colds are often accompanied by low fevers, but he's used to those so he simply chugs some orange juice and moves on.

He tried to quit smoking countless times, especially since he started coaching these kids, but he can't help smoking at least three of cigs per day. Still, sometimes his chest aches a bit, and maybe it's just paranoia, but when that happens he doesn't touch tobacco for a couple of days.

His liver would even be able to survive Takeda's nights out; his guts, in general, are strong and he swears he's never felt nauseous in his whole life.

💫 I might think of more sick karasuno hc soon, but that's it for now. Expect more characters hc soon! Again, credit me if you use these, and please feel free to share this post! 💫

[kevindayisafrog]

Non-Binary Kevin - it gets heavy, I guess

TW - body dysmorphia, hints at self harm and internalized homophobia

Kevin watched as the steam from his burning shower fogged up the mirror, hiding his scarred body once again. He sighed and leaned backwards into the hot stream of water, remembering a post he had read just last week: ‘people who have long hot showers tend to be the loneliest’. He let out a small scoff despite himself. The post was wrong. It wasn’t that he was lonely, he just enjoyed feeling the skin he hated melt away. Ever since he was young, as long as he could remember, he always felt uncomfortable in his body. His skin felt too tight here and too tight there; too smooth here and too bumped there. It’s not that he hated his physique, he just felt suffocated. He reached over and turned off the water and, grabbing a towel on his way out of the shower, walked over to the mirror. He held up the towel and let out a shaky breath before swiping away the squeaking condensation from the toothpaste splattered mirror. His haggard reflection stared back at him in a twisted gaze. He stepped back into the bath so that his full body was seen in the mirror. Turning this way and that, Kevin pulled at his skin and watched silently as his reflection did the same. He shivered slightly as the cold breeze seeped through the open bathroom window. He stared down at his body and winced before stepping out of the shower and pulling on his clothes over his still dripping skin.

Kevin watched Allison, Dan and Renee as they became engrossed in their own idle conversation. Allison was beyond beautiful; the perfect girl next door. Her platinum blond hair curved around her strong shoulders effortlessly. Her nails were perfectly manicured in a dark plum colour, making her slender fingers seem doll-like. Her tight black cropped shirt hugged comfortably around her chest and the sleeves hung loosely around her pale wrists. Kevin felt a weird pull at his gut as he looked away, catching Dan’s small smile. He darted his gaze to the floor and, once confident that Dan wasn’t watching, flicked his gaze back towards the girls. Dan was the polar opposite to Allison, yet she was gorgeous in her own way. Her short hair brushed her forehead neatly and made her eyes shine enigmatically. Her full lips were pulled in a wide grin, showing her perfectly straight teeth. She was wearing a loose red sweatshirt that ended halfway down her thigh. Her legs visibly toned beneath her jeans that were baggy around the knees. Again, Kevin felt the weird pang in his stomach, but this time it crawled up to burn his chest, too. Finally, he cast his gaze upon the innocent beauty that was Renee. Her cut short dyed hair was neatly brushed into straight lines around her cheeks. Her dimples dipped sweetly as her smile spread wider, making her skin crinkle slightly by her shining eyes. Her shoulders were pulled up straight, but her head was bent to show a gentle twinge of muscle in her neck. A beautiful ballet dancer’s neck. The pain finally fizzed into Kevin’s head as it gave way to a suffocating feeling beneath his skin. Was he jealous? He shook his head and turned to watch as his father scanned the room in silent approval. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward as he crossed his muscled arms across his broad chest. His defined jaw was jutted out as he watched his Foxes talk enthusiastically about the new season. Kevin felt a whimper trap itself in his throat as he cleared it self consciously, Nicky sending him a side glance. He turned his gaze finally to Matt as he sat, thighs pulled widely apart, leaning to rest his head on Dan’s shoulder. He was comfortable in his skin. They all were. So why wasn’t Kevin?

When Kevin got back to the dorms he glared into the mirror in the bathroom and let out unsteady shaky breaths. This constant crashing feeling hit him throughout his life, so why was it hurting so badly now? He clutched the sink with shaking hands and whispered into the mirror. “You’re a man, for fucks sake, you’re a man”, he let out a sob and repressed the urge to smash the mirror. He knew he’d only pull the glass onto his skin. He’d cut off the bits he didn’t want, carve new pieces that he wanted. Needed. He’d done it before. He let his legs fall beneath him as he rested his head against the side of the bath. How was everyone so comfortable with themselves? Why did he have to come out wrong? He bit his left hand with all his might as he sucked in a silent scream. He just wanted to feel like himself. But how could he be himself if he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a him?

As he lay in bed that night, he listened to the other boys’ breathing and replayed his past on the dark ceiling above him. Admittedly, he couldn’t remember many chunks of his childhood, but he could remember some as clear as day. One memory pulled at him continuously and left a cold feeling across his body. He remembered crying on the bathroom floor after a long fight with himself. Blood seeped out from under his fingernails and trickled down his palms. There wasn’t a part of him that he hadn’t tried to scratch away. That’s where Jean found him. That’s where he finally told someone. He remembered Jean whispering ‘you’re okay’s in his ear and something about genders not being real. He let out a wet laugh at the time, but now Kevin felt his ears buzz with the words as if Jean were still by his ear. ‘Non-binary’, ‘trans’, ‘fluid’ kept flowing out of Jean’s mouth and Kevin dismissed them at the time. He didn’t understand the words, but now he could try. He leaned over the railing on his loft bed and squinted into the dark room, attempting to see if any of the others were awake. Confident that they were all sleeping, he rolled over and pulled his phone off the pillow and went to the search engine. He hesitated over the search bar and quickly turned it into private mode - just to make sure. He typed in ‘gender fluid’ and scrolled for ages, a feeling of unease scratching at his neck. He turned his neck to stare at the room yet again and faced his screen. This didn’t feel like him. He typed into the search engine: ‘non-binary’. He sucked air through his teeth and exhaled shakily as he prepared for another hour of endless scrolling. After twenty different websites and four YouTube videos, Kevin locked his phone and closed his eyes. He pressed his palms angrily into his eyes and let out a quiet whine. Why did the most ordinary thing have to be so fucking complicated?

When he woke up the next morning his eyes were itchy from tears that he hadn’t known he shed. As he climbed out of bed he made eye contact with Nicky who stared at him with questioning eyes. “Fuck off”, Kevin muttered as he grabbed his clothes for the day and shut himself away in the bathroom down the hall. He refused to look at his reflection and instead turned on the shower to steam up the mirror. He couldn’t do this today. Once he had finished with washing and dressing, he leaned down to pick up his clothes and froze. Beneath his crumpled hoodie was a pamphlet, half hidden beneath the door. Kevin stepped back as if it was poisonous and stared at the door. Once he was sure that whoever placed it there was gone, he leaned down and picked up the pamphlet hesitantly. Stuck to the front page with a bright orange post it was the scribbled message: ‘You don’t have to tell me, just know I’m here’ in Nicky’s messy handwriting. Kevin frowned and peeled off the note to reveal the bold lettering beneath it: ‘Non-Binary and Me. Everything You Need To Know’. Kevin recoiled in horror and hid his face in his hands. How the fuck did that rat bastard know? He felt his cheeks burn and a sickness feeling began to crawl up his throat. He couldn’t fucking do this. He stuffed the pamphlet into his jeans pocket and left the bathroom with a calm mask. He couldn’t breathe.

“Can I come in?”, Nicky knocked softly on the bedroom door and Kevin froze by his drawers. “No”, he shouted back, but it came out in a more strangled way. “I’m coming in anyway”, Nicky pushed open the door and closed it quietly behind him. “Morning sunshine”, his bright smile was hesitant as Kevin turned his back. “Go away”, he seethed, the sick feeling returned with the heat. “Did you read it?” Nicky stepped into the room and dropped onto his bed cheerily. “I said fuck off”, Kevin grabbed the drawers with trembling hands. “No you didn’t, you said ‘go away’”, Nicky’s smile dropped slightly as he leaned forward towards Kevin. “I have another one for pronouns. It’s actually really-“ Nicky stopped as Kevin threw the pamphlet in his face. “My pronouns are he/him. I’m a fucking man, alright? Now take your fucking pamphlets and leave”, he watched Nicky’s smile drop and felt the guilt compete with the sickness. He pushed both feelings down and bit his bottom lip. “You know, I felt like that too. I used to lie about my sexuality so much that I started to believe it. But the feelings never went. They just kept eating at me. No matter how many people were happy with me being straight, the feelings of hatred were still there. I didn’t hate being gay, but I hated myself for hiding it. For lying to myself. But it feels so good being out, no more nights thinking that they were the last”, he let out a shaky laugh and Kevin stared in silence. He didn’t know what to say, he never did. “Don’t get me wrong, no matter what situation you’re in, coming out is still fucking terrifying. But just know that you don’t have to tell anyone, not even me. As long as you tell yourself, as long as you accept yourself. Then you’ll feel better”, Nicky lifted his bent head to smile a fragile smile at Kevin. They sat in silence as Kevin tapped his tongue across the back of his teeth. “I think I am”, he whispered, barely audibly. “You think you’re what?”, Nicky rubbed his hands together on his lap and met Kevin’s eyes. “I’m..I don’t think I’m- a man. Well I am, but..I don’t want to be. I don’t know”, Kevin punched his thigh and bit his lower lip, “I don’t want to be a girl though. I just want..I don’t know what I want. But”, he gestured limply to the pamphlet on Nicky’s lap. “I think I want that”, he dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I’m proud”, Nicky smiled warmly as Kevin’s head shot up, “do you want new pronouns?” Kevin stared blankly as he realized that he never gave himself the chance to think about it. Did he want new pronouns? He let different ones roll around his head, trying them against himself. “Umm..can we start with he/they?”, Kevin let themself hear the new pronouns out loud. “I think they suit you”, Nicky winked and stood up. “Wait”, Kevin leant over and pulled Nicky’s sleeve towards them. “Can you not say ‘they/them’ around the others. I don’t think I can deal with it right now”, they dropped their hand and Nicky caught it, giving it a small squeeze of understanding. “I’m proud of you”, he whispered before turning and leaving the room. “Fuck”, Kevin exhaled and rubbed a hand across their face. They could do this.

[afeb]

Fred Weasley - Best Gift

Summery: You and Fred confess your feelings for one another on the confines of his bed, which leads to something sweeter...

Warnings: smut, fluff

“Are you sure?” Molly said, her sentence being broken by a yawn.

I giggled a little. “I’m sure, it’s the least I could do for intruding on your Christmas.”

She waved me off. “You’re not intruding at all.” She sighed and gazed around at the messy kitchen. “You’d think with all the children I have one of them would’ve liked cleaning.”

I laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t mind at all.”

She squeezed me tight and pulled away. “Your parents will come around.” She softly reassured, cupping my rosy cheeks. “Besides, you got a jumper out of it.”

I smiled and looked down at my new jumper, the large letter of my first name shining back at me. “I love it, thank you.”

“Goodnight Dear.” She kissed my cheek and soon I was left alone.

I sighed and pulled my hair into a low bun and set to work. I was part way through organising the sides when a deep voice from behind made me jump.

“Need any help?” I turned to see Fred standing tall, jumper matching mine and a pair of stripy pyjama bottoms adorning his body.

I smiled. “I’d love help.”

“You know Mum would’ve done this.” Fred said knowingly as he began scraping old food into the bin.

I ran the sink as I began dumping various things into the sparkling water. “Well she cooked, and let me stay here for Christmas-“

“And made you that god-awful jumper.” Fred teasingly interjected.

“I love it! Does it look bad?” I asked, diving my hands into the hot water.

“Looks lovely.” He winked back, causing a blush to creep up my neck. “Why are you here though? Why aren’t you with your family?”

I stiffened at the sensitive subject. “Well, I usually go home but this year my parents...I suppose they wanted alone time and they said I couldn’t go back...when I told Ginny I was staying at Hogwarts this year she insisted I come here.”

A deep frown had set on his face. “Your parents...they didn’t want you home for Christmas?”

“They’re Muggles, they don’t understand magic.” I shortly said. “They can be...a little hostile at times.”

“Oh...” he mumbled, leaning against the counter and looking at me. “I’m sorry about that.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine, one day they’ll come around.”

“Yeah?”

I sniffed. “I can only hope.” I sadly smiled, draining the sink.

I wet a cloth and began wiping down the sides. “Well Mum loves you, and Dad loves you, so I’m sure you’ll always be welcome here.”

I giggled. “I’m glad, what you have here...it’s really something.��

He gazed around his kitchen and living room. “It is, isn’t it?”

I sighed and looked around, immensely proud of the now spotless kitchen. “Well I’m off to bed.”

“Where are you sleeping?” He asked, turning the lights off in the kitchen.

“Sofa.” I smiled as I made my way into the warm living room.

“Sofa? Why?” Fred followed closely behind me.

I pulled out the blanket and pillow that was stuffed behind the armchair against the wall. “Molly did apologise but the house is full for Christmas, and I was a late comer.”

Fred frowned as he watched me organise the sofa. “But it’s Christmas Day...don’t you want somewhere nice to sleep?”

I giggled. “I don’t have much choice!”

He pouted his lips before crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“What? Fred no-“

“I won’t take no for an answer, it’s a double and there’s plenty of room.” He explained.

“Fred I couldn’t possibly-“

He muscled past me and grabbed the pillow, leaving the old tattered blanket behind. “Nope, come on.”

He was half way up the stairs before I snapped out of my suprise and hurried after him. Awkwardly walking past the bathroom where Ron was exiting he gave us a funny look.

“All innocent.” Fred shortly said before carrying on down the hall.

“Don’t tell Ginny.” I ordered as Ron raised his hands as sulked into his room.

Fred had his own room. It was small, a double bed taking up most of the floor space. He had a cluttered desk in the corner, a small chest of draws and oddly enough a large mirror with all sorts of photos of friends and family pinned to it. I took a moment to look at them. Fairy lights lined the ceiling as small lamps around the room cast a soft orange glow over the humble corner of the world.

“It’s not much...” he mumbled, throwing the pillow onto the bed and facing me. “But it’s home.”

“It’s cute.” I smiled.

He smiled proudly. “Do you er...mind if I sleep without my jumper on? It’s too itchy.”

I blushed. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

I averted my gaze as I looked at the photos once again, turning once I heard the bed creek. Fred had his arms behind his head as he looked on at me, flicking his head and signaling me to hop in.

“Can I...take my bottoms off?” I said nervously. His eyes widened. “No! No as in my pyjama bottoms, not my...no not my underwear.”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Whatever makes you comfortable.” He repeated back. “Can you turn off the lights?”

After awkwardly undressing and turning off all the lights, I hurried under the covers, shivering in the cold sheets. I arranged my pillow as Fred looked down at me, a small amused smile gracing his lips as I pulled the covers to my ears and shivered again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah thanks.” I smiled back.

He laughed and settled down, turning onto his side and facing me. “So you’re friends with Ginny then?”

“Yeah, we met last year when I tried out for Quidditch.” I explained.

“You play?”

“No, I’m useless at it.” He laughed. “I just didn’t have many friends and wanted to make some, which worked because I found Ginny and then Hermione.”

He nodded. “I always saw you around school but I never knew you.”

“I knew about you.” I said.

“Really?” He asked. “How?”

“How could I not?” I giggled. “The famous tricksters, Fred and George.”

He laughed. “I suppose we do have a reputation.”

“I actually had a massive crush on you.” I said before my teeth could catch it.

He sat up on his elbow. “What?”

“Pretend you didn’t hear that.” I nervously said, covering my face with my hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You had a crush on me?” He asked again.

I groaned. “Yes! You were my friends older brother, of course I did!”

He laughed again. “But why?”

“I don’t know...you seemed funny, and sweet.” I shortly said. “And you know...”

“What?” He whispered.

“Well you’re handsome, you must know that.” I scoffed.

He cocked a brow. “So you think I’m handsome?” He teased.

“No! I-I didn’t...you...stop talking me into a corner!” I huffed.

He laughed, biting down on his lip and clutching his chest. “Alright alright...” he settled down next to me again. “Wanna know something?”

“Sure.”

“I have a crush on you.” He confessed, looking deeply into my eyes.

“On me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“You’re beautiful and funny, and over this Christmas I’ve got to know you far better. You’re smart and witty, mum loves you...” he listed off.

I blushed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not!” He defended. “I do.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “I like you too.”

Suddenly the air around us grew thick with tension, both very aware that we were in bed together with minimal clothes on. Fred shuffled a little closer to me, legs bumping against my own. I moved closer still, hand resting comfortably on his chest.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. His thumb poked out and gently ran over my lips, eyes flicking down to watch the soft flesh move under him. My breathing grew thick as I watched him, desperate for him to make any kind of move.

He slowly inched forward and bumped his nose against mine, breath fanning over my face as we pressed our bodies together. He kissed the side of my mouth, testing to see if I would pull away. When I stayed close, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

He was cautious to begin with, pressing a series of small, delicate kisses to my mouth. When a small whimper escaped my lips he pressed his lips firmly against mine. His hand fell to squeeze my jaw, my hands balling against his chest. I gasped as he pulled my leg over his waist, slotting between my open thighs.

His tongue traced over my lips before easing in, dancing with mine. He moaned, deep and quiet, and squeezed my jaw tighter. He gently pushed me back and climbed on top of me, positioning my legs either side of his waist as he loomed above me. His lips trailed down my neck and softly nibbled the skin, darkly chuckling at the moan it elisited from me.

“Can I...” he trailed off as his hand teasingly played with the band of my underwear.

My hand cupped his jaw. “Please.” I whimpered out with a pout.

He watched as my mouth fell open as he dipped his fingers inside, quickly finding the bundle of nerves and drawing small, slow circles against the flesh. My hands flexed on his cheeks, digging in a little.

“Like it, babygirl?” He asked, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Yes!” I breathed out as he slowly inched a finger in, swirling a little before adding another.

“Merlin, you’re tight.” He moaned as he retracted his fingers and eased them back in.

My breath quickened as he slowly moved in and out of me, his lips kissing my neck once again. My hips began to buck as I felt a tingling feeling crawl up my spine, feeling as though every nerve was busting in pleasure.

“Fred-oh!”

“That’s it.” He cooed softly in my ear. “Let me see.”

He gazed down at me as I came underneath him, my face blushing a deep red as my teeth sank into my lip, a poor attempt to stop the small moans tumbling past my lips. He pulled his fingers from me, offering them to my lips.

I gripped his wrist as sucked his fingers, tasting my sweet self off of him. “Ah ah, leave some for me.” I watched as he sucked on his fingers, moaning deeply. “So sweet, like honey.”

I whimpered at his statement. “Please...”

He nodded curtly as he quickly pulled himself out, stroking slowly as he looked into my eyes.

“Have you...” I shook my head. “Are you sure? I don’t want to...hurt you.”

I softly smiled. “With a boy I like, on Christmas Day, in his warm bed...I don’t think the poets could have written a better way.” I reassured.

He blushed and smiled, dipping down to press a firm kiss to my lips. As I was distracted, he slowly eased the tip into me. I winced, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His lips sponged kisses against my cheek as he slowly eased in, bottoming out. He stopped for a moment.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered as he kissed over my cheeks and nose.

“I-It’s okay.” I winced as he pulled out, ever so slowly pushing back in.

The pace was slow, the moonlight from the window casting a soft glow over his face. I could tell he was trying hard to keep control, his face contorting in pleasure as he deeply moaned and groaned. His hand cupped my jaw as he gazed down at me.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented. “Like a goddess.”

“You look handsome.” I complimented back, gasping as he gave a harder thrust.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologised, resting on his forearms and boxing me in. His lips found to ear. “I’m not gonna last long, babygirl.” He stained.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and stoked his hair. “Please,” I begged. “Please cum inside me.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned, hips stilling as he spilled ropes of cum into me. “Ah, fuck.”

I giggled as he swore, his head falling to rest against my shoulder. His breath was heavy as his fingers mindlessly fiddled with the hem on my jumper.

“Was it...”

He pulled back and smiled widely down at me. “You were perfect.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “The best, most amazing girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I giggled and smiled brightly up at him. “What does this mean?”

He settled next to me, coaxing my head to rest against his shoulder. “Well...if you want me, you can have me.”

I sat up a little and looked down at him. “Would you have me?”

“Without question.” He smiled back, taking my hand and kissing over my knuckes. “Who’s gonna tell Ginny?”

“Oh gosh.” I groaned as Fred laughed.

“For tomorrow, sleep today.” He soothed, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist and holding my other hand tightly against his chest.

“You’re the best gift I got today.” I tiredly said, my eyes drifting shut.

[cherrysung]

walks & paws

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: strangers to lovers au / fluff

warnings: none

prompts: none

summary: walks were never your favorite; but maybe after an encounter that changed your life, you can manage to appreciate them a little bit more.

requested by anon.

word count: 1.5k

note: *smashes hands down on table* this is so adorable! thank you anonnie for requesting such a lovely scenario!

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Destiny was something you strongly believed in. A phenomenon that had no logical explanation, but somehow worked according to one’s actions and decisions. Everyday, you hoped faith had something awesome in store for you, and often wondered what your future would be about in years to come.

On a Friday afternoon; when the shining sun wasn’t as burning hot as it usually was during the peak of daytime, and the never ending skies were covered beautifully in warmer tones—you decided a walk through the park near your small apartment would do you good to start off a fresh weekend. Although you absolutely detested walks, one every two months felt fine.

And to top it off, you brought your lazy cat along.

Birds were chirping loudly in perfect melodies, and the breeze was blowing nicely against your face. Your cat’s fur flowed comically with the wind, it’s tiny legs struggling to keep up with your much bigger steps as the two of you walked through the sidewalks, the familiar sound of an electric fountain and children’s laugh pleasantly invading your ears the closer you got.

Upon arriving at the small park, you realized it was not as crowded as it had appeared to be. A few families were having picnics, sitting on red and grid blankets with a couple of bamboo baskets storing food, snacks and drinks for a decent variation. Kids were running around the green grasses, occasionally playing around with the water that splashed out of the huge fountain located at the center; or watching the colorful Japanese koi fish that swam happily in the beautiful pond not far away, with their parents worriedly holding onto them in fear they’d fall into the waters.

A smile etched its way onto your face, your unbothered furry friend had chosen to take a much needed seat on the grass, realizing you had yet again stumbled into nostalgia. With a slight pull on the leash hooked around its collar, the two of you continued an improvised path around the park. The smile never left your face, admiring the emerald green oak trees as their leaves seemed to dance along with the winds, or the countless sunflowers that stood with exuberance pridefully in an extensive sea of daisies and gardenias.

Your eyes were everywhere but the path in front of you, and due to your already clumsy nature, you failed to catch sight of the boy that walked the same cute, dirt trail. The opposite way.

“I’m so sorry!” He apologized profusely when your head hit his hard chest and you went flying backwards, landing with a light thump on the ground.

In a failed attempt to remain aware of your surroundings, you clashed against him with an embarrassing amount of lack of elegance, your cat scurrying quickly to the side in fright as your bottom slightly cushioned your landing. Your cheeks were burning red, and your pet could only lovingly lick your wrist with its rough, pink tongue. Maybe if you looked anywhere but him, he would leave.

“Are you alright? I’m really so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” He continued to endlessly apologize, offering you his hand to help you up to your feet. “Are you okay? Is your cat okay?”

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry—”

“You got a scratch on your elbow!”

You turned your arm to confirm for yourself before he became even guiltier; indeed, there was a tiny scratch. Tiny.

Letting out a laugh of disbelief, but thankfulness nonetheless, you waved your free hand around dismissively with a sweet smile on your face. “That’s the smallest scrape I’ve ever seen! Don’t worry about it! You did nothing wrong, I was the one who wasn’t looking, I should’ve been more careful of my steps.”

He sighed in relief, and only now had you noticed he was walking two cats. “My name is Jeno,” you shook his hand, “I noticed you have a cat too!”

“(Name), and yes, but I’m starting to think yours are way cuter.” You joked with a chuckle. “Mine has been lazy this entire walk.”

Jeno laughed at your confession, eyes creasing adorably into crescents as his grin lit up his features completely. He had a sharp facial structure, and had it not been for his smile, you would’ve never assumed he was capable of pulling off such a sweet expression. Then his eyes beamed so brightly, and you were proved wrong.

“Well, I’m genuinely glad you didn’t hurt yourself. Except for that scratch, though. Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m totally fine,” you soothed his worries with a nod of your head, “I’m more concerned for you. Your chest is hard, Jesus!”

Jeno blushed a deep shade of pink, small eyes widening adorably as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head with a soft smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I work out occasionally.”

Neither of you had become aware of how long the time you had been speaking for was, only then noticing the beginnings of a new sunset to come. You’d argue you were in the middle of a recent golden hour, flocks of starlings flying by the gleaming sun. The skies appeared as if they were painted, random shades of faded orange and yellow slowly engulfing it whole as the minutes ticked by and the clock announced the nearing of an early evening.

You turned to face the boy again, eyes widening at how red and itchy his neck was. “Jeno! Are you okay? Your neck is very red.”

He smiled, “I am. I’m allergic to cats, this is normal.”

“You’re allergic to cats but you have two of them?” You laughed, crouching down to pet his companions. One was almost entirely black, and the other was mostly brown with a few black spots located in random places.

“I actually have three, but my mom said I wouldn’t be able to keep up with all of them.”

“That’s cute.” You admitted simply before standing up, prompting yet another wave of rosy red to fill his cheeks, the tip of his ears also burning with embarrassment.

Needless to say, although the darkness of night was getting closer and closer by the moment, Jeno thought staying to watch the sunset would be a great idea. One you did not oppose either. The two of you took a seat on a random wooden bench that was in great needs of some new paint, as its previous one was already scraping off.

He sat next to you, your cat surprisingly happy under his touch as it rested on his lap, hand running over its fluffed up fur due to all the breeze it had endured. One of his cats slept between the two of you, while the other one also laid lazily on your thighs.

The rash on his neck has simmered down a tiny bit; yet, to you, he still looked handsome under a dim lamp post light that shined over the both of you.

Soon enough, the sun had set, the sky now darkened with a few tints of lavender and pink fighting to show up. Most families had left, and only a small amount of people remained besides you two. You turned to face Jeno, finding with shock that his gaze was already on you, eyes scanning your features swiftly before finally locking with yours. He smiled again, and you weren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were the ones tickling you, or if it was his cat’s fur that brushed against your legs.

“Would you want to hang out some other time again? Without cats that give me allergies and actually planned beforehand so you don’t end up bumping into hard chests anymore?” He thanked whatever god was above that nighttime had arrived, and that you weren’t able to see how flushed his face was.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Stutters stumbled off his lips at your unexpected question, “do you—do you, um, want it to be a date? It doesn’t have to be! But if you want to, it can be—”

“A date sounds fine to me, Jeno,” you smiled sincerely at him, pulling out a notepad from your small crossbody handbag and writing your phone number on it before placing the small paper on his palm. “I would love to. I had a great time with you.”

Jeno gratefully returned your smile, nodding with utter happiness as the both of you got hold of your respective pets, standing up with a sigh and warmth that refused to leave your cheeks. “Want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head, “it’s fine. I live very close, so don’t worry. Just make sure to text me once you get to your own home and you’ve taken some pills for that rash.” He chuckled, nodding at your words as he looked down at you with a loving stare. “Goodnight Jeno, it was nice meeting you and your cats. I’m looking forward to our date.” With a quick peck on his cheek, you turned on your heel and on your way back to your apartment, not needing to look back at his face to know he was unbelievably flustered, red as a tomato.

Destiny surely had something awesome in store for you.

[wholesomemendes]

Shawn helping his pregnant wife shave down there as her bump comes in the way. But she’s all blushy and shy so he reassures her that it’s ok and laughs because they both know that Shawns been down there a lot of times before

Author’s Note: I’m going to be honest this was kinda out of my comfort zone writing wise (idea wise I think this is adorable and could totally see Shawn doing it) so please be kind when reading this lol. I’m sorry this took so long, but I’m also working on other requests that will be out soon!

“I give up,” you groaned, dropping your head down in annoyance. You were 8 months pregnant, practically bursting at the seams, and to say that you were beginning to feel fed up at your current situation was an understatement. Your stomach was constantly stretched and itchy no matter how much lotion your husband helped you put on at night, your feet ached, and you were sick and tired of being unable to do tasks that you used to think were the simplest things in the world. Ever since you were young, you have always been one to constantly shave your body, hating the way the hair made you feel itchy and uncomfortable. You had successfully managed to shave your legs, but now as you stood in the shower with your leg propped up onto the step, you were growing frustrated when you couldn’t reach the area directly under your bump. You loved being pregnant. You wouldn’t change it for the world. But it was times like these that your patience grew thin and you wanted nothing more than to pop your beautiful baby out right then and there.

It had been almost an hour since you had left Shawn in his studio to go to the bathroom, and the poor boy was growing worried at your absence, always wanting to check up on you and overall being the clingy husband he was known to be. He had been a saint throughout the whole pregnancy, constantly trying to find new ways to make you comfortable, catering to your every need even when you tried to remind him that you weren’t completely helpless. So true to his worrying self, he placed his guitar down on the stand, silently making his way to the bathroom door and knocking softly to announce his presence, “Baby? You ok in there?”

“I’m fine,” you called out, not wanting him to see you in this predicament. Even though there was no one else you felt more comfortable around, you couldn’t help but not want him to see you struggling to shave your most intimate parts.

“Are you sure? You’ve been in there a while hun.”

“I’m fine, Shawn.”

“No you’re not I’m coming in.” He slowly pushes the door open, peaking his head in to find you leaning against the shower wall hopelessly. “Now why is my beautiful wife looking all defeated over there?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his compliment, turning your face so your eyes could meet his, “I can’t shave.”

“That’s what this is all about? Babe, I’ll do it you just had to ask,” he told you like it was the easiest thing in the world as he made his way over to you.

“No, Shawn you can’t help it’s...,” you sighed, feeling embarrassed that you have to tell your husband something so stupid, “I can’t shave down there.”

“Down there?” he asked confused, “Y/n you know I don’t care if you’re shaved down there or not so why fret about it now?”

“I’m not doing this for you bubs, I’m doing it for me. You know I don’t like not being shaved. I have a mirror and everything, but this dumb bump is getting in the way!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” He rushed to get on his knees in front of you, hands caressing your stomach lovingly before he leaned his head onto your skin, “Don’t you call our baby dumb! It’s not only your brain in there.”

“Rude!” You shoved at his head lightly, earning a laugh from him in response and he was quick to reattach himself back onto your stomach, peppering soft kisses to your large bump.

“Was just kidding,” he mumbled between kisses, “We both know you’re the smarter one in our relationship.”

“Not true, your mind is incredible, I could never do the things you do.” You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling when you heard the small groan of appreciation leave his lips.

“Our baby is gonna be perfect.”

“I know, I know, I’m just getting tired,” you admitted, averting your eyes from his gaze, “My body hurts and I just want the baby out.”

“I understand, darling, you are so so strong for doing this. And I can’t wait for our baby to be here, I just know you’re gonna be the best mom.” He smiled up at you with pure adoration in his eyes, resting his chin on your bulging stomach, “Now hand me that razor.”

“Shawn...” you whined, cheeks heating up as you closed your thighs.

“Hey, hey, no hiding, you need help and as your husband it is my duty to help you.” A smirk toyed on his lips and he pulled your leg back up on the step, opening you up for him, while he gently pried the razor out of your grasp, “Besides, not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, lightly pushing him away as your face turned a brighter shade of red. You knew he wasn’t wrong, but having your husband shave your lady parts was a completely different situation than when the two of you were having sex. You somehow felt more vulnerable in this position even though you trusted Shawn with your life.

“I’m just saying, how do you think this little one ended up in here? There’s nothing to be ashamed of babe, I’ve got your whole entire body memorized. Every,” he placed a feather soft kiss on one of your thighs, “single,” one on your other one, “piece,” then one on the smooth skin at the top of your pubic bone that you were able to shave. This only caused you to shy away even more, covering your face with your hands so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna do it if you don’t want me to,” he cooed, rubbing comforting circles on your thighs, “Just wanna help.”

You nodded reluctantly, removing your hands from your face, but keeping your eyes clenched shut. “Relax hun, I’ve got you,” he reassured you, “I love you.”

Finally opening your eyes, you met his loving gaze allowing you to feel comforted at his words, “I love you too, S.” You had already prepped your skin with all of your creams and lotions, allowing him to pull it tight and begin his work. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, causing him to look absolutely adorable as he slowly swiped the razor down, trying to get every hair he possibly could without hurting you. He repeated the process a couple more times before rinsing the razor out, making sure it was clean and then returning to your skin. By the time he’s satisfied with his work, he swears the heat from your cheeks had spread across your entire body down to your legs and he gives your ass a light tap before standing up in front of you again. You swat his arm with a disapproving face at his antics, but it only causes his cheeky smile to grow larger, “Keep your hands to yourself, Mister.”

“Honey, you say that like I didn’t just shave your cooch,” you roll your eyes in response, grabbing a nearby towel and wrapping it around your body as you turn away from him in an attempt to calm the redness of your face.

“Hey, get back here,” your husband whined, grabbing your wrist to pull you back into him, “Where’s my thank you kiss?”

You immediately connect your lips with his, sighing softly at the way his feel against your own. As you pull back, he traps your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly, leaving your heart pounding and your hands desperately moving up to grab at his shirt while he steps away with a smug smile on his face. “Keep your hands to yourself, Missy.” He begins to walk past you, stopping to lightly slap your ass once more before leaving the room, “Shawn!”