#and wandered off a little further than I normally do. in every corner I sensed his life and his work and pride. which made me so joyful

[lunasilvis]

Dad's factory

[keyh0use]

what do u think rafes reaction would be to first hearing barry speak spanish (especially for the first time too!!!)

Because I envision Barry as first gen, I think he has a soft spot for newcomers who struggle with the language barrier And I think I've written out maybe six different possibilities, some I've probably already posted here, but a (newer) favourite of mine is: Rafe and Barry make a trip off the island for a pick-up, something the older man likes to do by himself and it's the first time he's ever invited someone along to meet his supplier. Not that it's a big deal or anything. (it is, Barry's heart races every time Rafe shows even a smidgen of excitement) It's unusual for them to be so carefree. Even though Barry puts on a relaxed facade, he's always carrying, always prepared to be in some altercation. And Rafe's image and expectations loom over him, guide and guilt him in everything he does. Until they're an hour off the island, away from the judgemental stares of people who will never think they fit together, as anything. Even friends, which is all they are, of course.

On the way back they pull over at a tiny corner store to grab something to eat, knowing everything will be shut by the time they arrive back in the OBX. Rafe has zero experience with communities off the island, every vacation the Cameron's have taken so far have been to all inclusive resorts, where his family is treated like royalty; untouchable, never to be bothered. So he's a little jittery as they wander out of the truck and into the store, groups of people filtering in and out that are nothing like the self-involved kooks he's normally surrounded with, they're offering him easy greetings and stepping aside, not because of his status but out of natural kindness. It makes him stick closer to Barry with uncertainty, never straying any further than a few feet as they walk the aisles, grabbing snacks as they go. Then the checkout is backed up, two groups before them who are clearly growing annoyed as an older lady at the counter stumbles over her words, very flustered the longer the broken interaction continues. Barry can remember watching his parents go through the same thing as a child and it makes his heart ache, especially when the other customers start complaining just loud enough for him to hear. His father was a labourer and his mother did some under-the-table work, like babysitting, so he was the only one forced to socialise with the locals and in turn, learn English.

In a sense he was glad, because it meant they never had to hear the hurtful comments made about them when they were in situations just like this. So Barry takes it upon himself to step out of line, leaving a momentarily panicked Rafe with an easy be right back, to approach the cashier and bridge the gap, introducing himself in his native tongue and interrupting the obnoxiously slow-speaking asshole behind the register. Meanwhile, Rafe is standing frozen in the line, clutching a bag of crumbling chips in his large hand absentmindedly, fully enraptured by the scene playing out in front of him. He should have known Barry spoke Spanish, given how utterly obsessed he was with learning every single detail about his dealer. There were plenty of signs, he releases while thinking back, like cheerful cards with Feliz Navidad sprawled on the covers stacked amongst glossy restaurant coupons atop the fridge, and telenovelas quietly playing on the TV when Rafe finally rolls out of bed in the morning and Latin music the go-to while cleaning up around the trailer.

Still, Rafe is shocked silent, watching on as Barry listens intently before translating, again and again until the conversation has reached a satisfying conclusion. And just like every time the dealer watches over him when he's too high or drunk, every time Barry comforts him and brings him back down when he's too emotional, and every time premade plans are suddenly cancelled just because Rafe made an offhanded comment about wanting to hang out together: Rafe chest swells with affection at Barry's desire to take care of those around him.

Sometimes, admittedly, watching Barry help others makes Rafe uncomfortable. Even upset and angry. Possessiveness (even when unwarranted) tugging at his nerves, desire to be the only thing the dealer's attention goes into present at the most inappropriate times, like when some poor woman needed her tire changed on the side of a backroad. There's also a tug in Rafe's groin, too, obviously, which makes him look away bashfully when Barry finally moves to join him again. After that night it becomes a personal goal of Rafe's to see if he can elicit that part of Barry. Sometimes he'll start bickering over unimportant things, just picking apart sentences for no other reason than to be brat, just to hear Barry playfully curse him out. Rafe never misses a chance to visit with Barry's family, either, because he gets to hear his man socialise with an easiness that's usually not present and that accent Barry unknowingly slips into.

After that night it becomes a personal goal of Rafe's to hear more. Sometimes he'll start bickering over unimportant things, being a brat because it works in his favour, rejoicing when Barry playfully starts to curse him out. Rafe never misses a trip to visit Barry's family, no matter what he has to postpone, because he gets to watch his man socialise and unknowingly slip into an accent that drives the kook insane; Barry's usual southern twang, so unlike his own despite residing on the same island, showing through the foreign language, making it sound a thousand times more romantic than it already does.

It's not one-sided, either. Barry loves teaching Rafe, and that his boy is so willing and eager to learn. He doesn't laugh (too much) when Rafe butchers words, the two of them repeating it back and forth until the kooks wrapped his tongue around the syllables correctly. Barry also loves ordering Rafe around in the language he's only starting to become more familiar with, getting rewarded and praised when he follows the commands—but Barry will sometimes add on extra words just to throw him off, speak too fast for him to follow and watch as Rafe panics and scrambles to obey, giving the older man the perfect excuse to punish him. <3

Thanks for the ask!! <3 (and sorry I didn't answer it for like a week. I actually did...and then it got buried. PLUS tumblr does this weird thing where it says my posts can't be saved? And then I lose all my progress)

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 7 - Obsession

Surprise! I haven't forgotten that this story exists lol. This piece takes place immediately after Cadence's first captivity, before she moves and changes her name and hair, so it's a prequel to the main canon. If you're new to this series, it does sound like I'm implying noncon a couple of times in this, but Oliver does not do noncon.

Taglist: @justplainwhump , @whump-ventures

Masterlist

No. 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Contains: lady whump, long term captivity, conditioned whumpee, stalker, creepy/intimate whumper, fear of recapture

.

.

He’d let her go.

He’d let her go, and Cadence still can’t figure out why. Days and weeks and months of pain and torment and making sure that she knows without a doubt, in nearly every possible way, that she belongs to him, then he just…let her go.

It doesn’t make sense.

It has to be some kind of trick, right? There’s no way he’s done with her. He didn’t grow tired of her, he was still doing the same exact things up until this morning, including whispering in her ear how perfect she is and how she’ll always be his. In fact, he told her as he was dropping her off in the middle of this unfamiliar street that he’d see her again soon.

So it can’t be over. He’s watching her somehow right now, she has no doubt. This is just another one of his games. She never expected him to go this far, to actually let her outside the warehouse where he’s been keeping her all of this time, but he does love his games. Loves to find new ways to mess with her head, to watch her struggle and attempt in vain to hold on to the tiny little slivers of hope and dignity that she has left, only to fall further into his clutches each time.

This time, she gets the feeling he wants to build up her hope. He wants her to believe that she’s actually free, so that he can laugh and feel more powerful than ever when he swoops back in and snatches her up again.

Well, she doesn’t believe it. She’s not going to believe it, ever. He did his job well, she knows who she belongs to, it’s carved into her skin and the deepest recesses of her mind. There’s absolutely no way that he’ll leave her alone for long.

So she walks aimlessly, waiting for him to appear. The sun is far too bright, too warm. She hasn’t even seen the sun in…how long has it been, anyway? It doesn’t matter, because it isn’t over. She’s going back any minute now. There’s no need to count the days, to think about what could be, to try and find anyone to tell her story to. She knows better. If she tells anyone, they meet the same fate as her. 

A car drives by, and Cadence nearly jumps out of her skin. She nearly forgot that life existed out here, in the real world. That people were still driving around, going to work, running errands, going home to their families and friends and sleeping soundly in their own beds every night. She used to have that kind of life, too. She doesn’t remember what it was like, anymore.

The farther she walks, the noisier it gets, and she flinches at each sound. Every car she expects to be his. Every corner she passes, she’s sure he’s waiting around. 

Instead, she finds herself wandering alone down a street she actually recognizes. These stores and restaurants are ones she’s been to before. Back when she had a normal life. Back before she belonged to him. 

A real, live person passes her on the sidewalk, wrinkling their nose and eyebrows in her direction. She knows why. He likes to show her herself in the mirror. She looks like a ghost. She feels like a ghost, haunting her own past.

Cadence turns onto a quieter street and keeps waiting for him to show up. Only, he doesn’t. The too-bright, too-warm sun begins sinking behind the distant skyscrapers, but she’s still alone. This is lasting much longer than she’d expected. Then again, his games aren’t meant to be easily understood, and he has no reason to worry about leaving her out here. He knows just how well trained she is. He’s confident in his work, confident that she’ll behave even without his constant presence.

Darkness falls. She has no energy left, didn’t really have any when she started walking hours ago, but she doesn’t know what else to do. It’s only when she realizes she’s been slowly edging her way toward her old apartment that she realizes that’s probably where he is. He knows where it is, after all. He showed her pictures one time of himself inside of it - lying in her bed, sitting on her couch, eating at her table. That has to be it. He’s waiting on her to give in, to go home, to decide he’s not coming back and try to go back to life before him.

So that’s what she does. There’s no use fighting it. She’s not enjoying any of this taste of freedom, anyway, she might as well end this game as soon as possible so that she doesn’t have to suffer through the anticipation anymore. Doing what he wants is always the best solution.

It hurts, dragging herself up the stairs to the second floor apartment, but she arrives at the door and stares for a long moment. Her floral wreath is still on the door, her worn welcome mat sitting neatly underneath it. She’d half expected someone else to have moved in. Why hasn’t someone else moved in? Yes, she knew he’d been here at some point partway through her time with him, so it was clearly still hers then, but it hadn’t clicked until now that she hasn’t been paying rent for quite some time and there’s no reason she shouldn’t have been evicted. 

It has something to do with him, she’s sure. 

She has no key. If he dropped her off close enough for her to walk here and made sure that it still belonged to her, though, then he must have intended for her to get inside. She tries the knob, it’s locked. Stooping down with a cringe and hitched breath, she looks underneath the mat. Sure enough, there’s a brass key. 

The apartment is dark, and smells musty. Her heart is in her throat, waiting for him to step out and smile at her. She waits a moment in the darkness, then reaches over with a shaking hand and flips the light on, wincing at the sudden brightness. Almost immediately she turns it back off, then back on again. One is too dark, the other too bright. But she’d rather be able to see him coming, so on it stays. 

All of her things are still here. Besides the thick layer of dust, it looks exactly like she left it. Over there is the kitchen and the small table where he sat and ate his meal. Closer by is the sofa where he lounged, propping his feet on the coffee table. In the next room is the queen sized bed that he laid across, resting his head on the pillow. 

That’s probably where he’s waiting now. She walks in, heart pounding, and flicks that light on, too. But it’s empty. Her bed is made, her empty glass still sitting on the bedside table. She goes to the bathroom, there’s nothing there. Checks the closets, the back deck, under the bed and inside the shower, moving quickly and frantically now. 

He’s not here. She was sure he would be here waiting for her.

But again, he has all the power. Of course it wouldn’t be anything that she would expect. He’ll be here, though. He’ll come back for her. She belongs to him. She’ll never be free of him, he told her so. Refusing to get her hopes up is the only way that she can beat him, even if it does mean she’s playing right into his hand by continuing to believe everything he says about her.

It really doesn’t matter what she does. He always wins.

She might as well sit and rest a little while she waits for him. She looks at the bed, then the couch, then picks a spot against the living room wall to sink to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. 

He’ll be back soon.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Dateables

A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!) (all consensual btw!!)

Separated because it was gonna be too long with all of them, the brothers should come out soon

-

A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!)

You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Barbatos:

Barbatos is simply surprised that you chose to go to him in such a needful state. But soon, he realizes how… stressful it is to have you around. Lord Diavolo was kind enough to give him the day off, stating that he’ll be spending it with Lucifer before closing the door with quite an obvious wink. But now, you follow him around, holding his hand, begging for him to do something- to turn back the clock just a few minutes before you had that pastry. You even promised that you wouldn’t get caught but he remains steadfast in his decision, not wanting to risk another repeat of the last mistake.

There is little that can surprise the butler, but when you push yourself against him, grabbing his hand and placing it flat on your belly, his fingertips above the waistband of your shorts, he can feel his face grow hot. He sputters out for a second before regains his composure, simply pulling his hand away and commenting that he’ll make you something to dim the fire that is your body. But you don’t quit, you push yourself against him, begging for him to help you now, that you’re too hot, that your clothes are melting your skin and your flush against him.

He only has so much willpower when it comes to you. And here you are, pressed against him, begging for him to take care of you, grabbing his hand and placing his index and middle finger in your mouth. He visibly stiffens, and when your mouth closes you hollow your cheeks, the soft, slick insides pressed against his fingers. There’s a crackle of energy around and soon you're gagging on his finger, the manicured nails turning into claws, filling your mouth exponentially, spit sliding between the corners and your eyes pricking with tears.

You are much too needy to stand still, to even rest against him is something that you find difficulty in without resulting in your humping his leg. You beg him, twist your hand in his and remove his glove, holding it tight in your hand and begging for him to touch you- to make the pain between your legs go away and feel good. As quick as a blink of an eye, you’re against the wall, his fingers deep into your mouth, his smile softening for a second. He leans close to your ear, his other hand working on clothes on your back, stripping you with every gagging sound made when he pushes a bit further. His tone is almost dangerous as he tells you that you asked for him to take care of you and that is simply what he’s about to do. He pulls away, his smile still as he leans close to you, his lips ghosting over his knuckles, asking if this is really what you want and if you give him a moment, he’s sure he can make you a tea that can stop your arousal. But when you gag around him, your brows knitting together, looking absolutely like a piece of art with his fingers in your mouth and eyes full of tears, he simply nods.

His mouth is on yours, and he can taste the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac on you- the sweetness, the almost bitter taste that lingers behind, the totality of it all making him feel as if he’s going to go into a craze. You poor thing, no wonder you’ve been so needy. Barbatos holds you up, letting you rut against him, feeling your sex pulse and with a simple slip of his hand, your creaming against yourself and against him, clinging tight to him, calling his name out in such a lewd moan that it pushes away all rational thought and simply release his cock, pearls beading from the slit and you look upon him with doe eyes, kissing him once more as his tail wraps around your torso, the forked end of it teasing at your nipples.

Diavolo:

The Lord of Devildom has always been kind to you, understanding and accommodating to you even when he has always seemed so busy. It would make sense that you would go to Lord Diavolo, who welcomes you with open arms, a gentle hand on your back that makes your knees buckle. He realizes his mistake- his eyes narrowing as he sees your flushed state and it’s a wonder that you’ve even made it to him without a trail of succubi and incubi at your tail. He can smell your heat from miles away. It’s intoxicating, hanging heavy in the air and as sweet as candy itself.

He lays you on the bed and he regrets it all in that very moment. He sees how small you are in his bed, the way that your body curves and how your hands try to find something to grip onto. He has enough restraint to pull himself away from you, taking a step back only to realize that your scent is filling the room, creeping at every crevice and corner, latching onto his clothing. Your hips thrust against the bed and he bites the inside of his cheeks- something bitter and hot filling his mouth. You call his name and he has to remain strong no matter how sweet the sound of it is.

The bed is soundless as he sits beside you and your hands latch onto his jacket, pulling him close to you. He makes a noise of surprise but allows it, watching as you lay yourself on his lap, your back arched over his lap and eyes so hazy and lust-filled that he forgets for a second to avoid touching you. His hand curves and pets the top of your head, smiling when you push yourself against his touch but then you rise and he’s forgotten that you are desperate for the very thing he’s willing to give to you.

You’ve laid him down, sitting above his abdomen, your hand on his chest, as your lower yourself to look him in the eyes. Your fingers squish beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft tissue of the breast and he has to admit that it feels divine. Your breath is a phantom above his lips and his hands move to grab your hips. He should pull away, but he finds that his hands are stuck to you, unable to budge from where they rest. He shouldn't be kissing you, he shouldn’t be ignoring the way that your hips are rotating above his, how you’re whining and mewling at the very action of kissing him. But he does, and he lets you kiss him, lets you weave your hands through his hair and push yourself closer against him until you have to pull away, gasping for breath.

Diavolo has to be careful with you- he treats you like you are made of porcelain, because to him, you are. You are a human, weak and gentle, loving and giving, and he is a demon, a king. He holds you with tender hands, letting his lips burn themselves against your skin, until you’re crying his name, begging for him to just touch you. He’s unable to refuse you, kissing your lips and letting his hand wander to your sex, where with just a simple touch, you release against his hand. He pulls his hand away, kissing your tears and raising his head to glance as his hand that is now coated in thick, shimmering arousal. With a promise to take care of you, he kisses your lips and lets his hand play with your sensitive sex.

Simeon:

Possibly one of the best choices to turn to, Simeon is actually quite happy to know that you chose to spend your sensitive state with him- that you trusted him the most. He’s trying to make it as lovely as possible- as least without actually attending to your needs. He won’t try anything- not that he technically could. But he misjudged the situation. He’s heard of people taking aphrodisiacs but the ones he heard of were made by and for people, not by and for demons. And now as he stares at you, trying so desperately to not slide your hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, he realizes he might have been over his head just a tad bit.

You rest on your knees, your face hidden against the comforter of his bed, lower half raised and legs pinched. Pained whimpers come out muffled, your hands clawing at the comforter, knotting and twisting the fabric in your hands. He can actually see the darkening color of your shorts peek from your crotch. His body suddenly feels hot- whether it’s arousal or embarrassment, he’s not actually sure but he wishes that it were because of the latter.

He turns his gaze away from you, clearing his throat and at that moment he knows he made a mistake. You call his name in a breathy tone that is absolutely sinful. Your arm stretches out, fingers trying to grab at the leg of his white pants. He smiles gently at you, his stomach churning when he catches your gaze- lustful and mouth already open in small moans. He can’t touch you. You know that. He knows that. But you’re in pain and even in your aroused state, you beg for him, you call out and promise that whatever he does, it’s out of good intentions. It’s a lie, of course, but he can hear you slick click against your dripping sex with just the softest of movement. Whatever he does- he can lie that he’s doing it to help you, but he’ll know the truth.

He’s unaware of how and exactly what happened. All he knows is that you’re above him, holding yourself tight to him as your face is hidden in the soft curve of his neck, and he can feel exactly just how hot your body is. Your hips are moving above his, the fabric of his clothes creating a wonderful friction that only makes your pitiful humping quicker and sloppier. You breathe against his neck and he has to dig his hands into the comforter of the mattress to prevent himself from falling to sin. Your sex is bare above him, your body curling tighter onto him, as he can feel an orgasm shake throughout your body.

Simeon whispers a prayer under his breath, closing his eyes and muttering an “Amen” as his arms wrap around your body. You jerk against him, acting as if the simple embrace from him is orgasmic, your thrusts quicker than before, calling his name, repeating it as if it were the only thing on your mind and at this point, he’s sure that it is. He promises to you in a whisper that he won’t go farther than what he’s about to do, pressing a kiss against your head and letting his eyes close. His hips meet yours in a thrust, clothed sex against wet, bare sex, and you moan his name and he can feel tears that burn slide down his neck, your words repeating for him to not stop.

Solomon:

It’s difficult for the sorcerer. He couldn’t even get up from the position if he tried. You're on his lap, legs and arms wrapping around him, and you may think you’re being discreet with your humping disguised as itchiness, Solomon knows better. He’s trying his best to find a spell, to find anything that can cure you of your current ailment. But he’s coming up flat. You’re needy, pinching your leg together and pulling away from where your chin rested on his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your face is flushed, your hair disheveled and for the first time since you’ve entered his room, you’ve stopped your humping.

He’s always had an attraction to you- it went further than just finding you pretty, it passed the need for human contact when you both arrived, it was just him wanting to bask in your warmth, to have you fret over him like he was simply just another person and not a sorcerer who happens to be able to command seventy-two demons. And now, he has you where he has dreamed of countless times, imagined behind closed doors and hand fisted over his cock. He has you with a leaking sex, eyes that are on him and no possible interruptions. His mouth is dry and he is unable to think properly. His hands fall and the book he was keeping afloat falls with a thud to the floor.

The way you call his name, a breathy broken moan when you test your hips against his, your body shuddering and he realizes with disappointment that you had orgasmed already while above him. He had missed it. He bows his head, brows knitted and he can’t think clearly when you’re rutting against him, mumbling apologies beside him, your breath a gentle whisper and then in the same breath you kiss his neck, begging for him to touch you. And as much as he wants to, he can’t. He knows the state you’re in, your mind hazy and thick with everything related to sex, and you aren’t thinking clearly, you’re just thinking of having your sex toyed with. It’s a horrible feeling he’s stuck in.

It doesn’t take much to make him crack. You pull away, when he’s still for far too long, silent even as focused as he was, you could hear the muted moans that he refused to sound out loud. But he's silent now, and when you pull away, he looks crestfallen. You hold his face his your hands, your sex pressed against his, and you can feel his cock poking at the inside of your thigh. You try your chances against, leaning close to him, your mouth on his as you beg for him to touch you, your promises of you wanting this so serious in your voice that makes him willing to kiss your lips, his tongue slipping past and the sound that you make is perverse, loud and running your hands against his body.

Solomon looks at you through heavy lidded eyes, feeling your body rise and fall, your lips on him and his hands are moving, leaving your body burning with just the palm of his hand. Thin, calloused fingers sneak under your shirt and rub against your sensitive nipples, your mouth breaking from him, and your tongue peeks out, swiping at your lips to capture the feeling of his against your one more time. But you’re in pain, more than he is, and he’s pushing you against the bed, kissing your body, hearing you call his name with such want that it makes his cock ache. And then he’s staring at your sex, leaking and throbbing, and his mouth is on you, groaning when your hands knit in his hair and his tongue is swirling around your sex.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[angry-geese]

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/mdni. oral (fem recieving), face riding, fingering, pet names, thinly veiled praise kink, biting/marking, body worship (???), tender sex. not the healthiest relationship dynamic. toji kinda needs his own warning. afab reader, fem pronouns.

Word Count: 2.3k

The last little beam of goldening sunlight fills the room as the sun sets. The movie—which you’ve long since stopped paying attention to—has turned to credits. Toji lays with his head in your lap, hands folded on his chest. The scarred corner of his mouth twitches as you card your fingers through his hair.

He’s not sure why he keeps coming back. But he keeps doing so. Toji doesn't quite know how to put it in words. It's not love—or so he’d say—because there's only two things he loves in life; gambling, and killing. If there was a third, it would be you, so you take this with a grain of salt. He looks forward to coming around, even if he groans and complains when you call him over. He sees something in you, even if he can't put it into words. In the beginning you were just a quick fling. A warm mouth, and a wet cunt. Sometimes you’d cook too. Which was nice. He’d kill someone just for the gyoza you make.

When he fell for you, he fell hard.

It was obvious to seemingly everyone but him. His gaze lingered a little longer than normal, he found his thoughts turning to you more often, he’d mention you even without provocation. He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes spending time with you. You know that, even if it would be nice to have him say it. The man is a mess, there’s only so much shit you can give him for it.

You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, letting your body hover just over his chest. His gaze drifts down your figure, studying every dip and curve of your barely-clothed body.

“Stop! Wait!” You playfully claw at his chest, but there's some sense of urgency behind it. “I'm too heavy!”

He notices you trying to scramble away and sits up, pulling you into his lap. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they ghost up your sides, coming to rest on your hips.

“What do you mean you’re too heavy?” He asks. “Sweetheart, I could lift you with one arm.”

He’s not lying. He can—and has—thrown you around. He’s not the best with words, but it’s oddly comforting. Being so open with his affection is a foreign feeling to him. Love in a traditional sense is a bit new to him. Toji deserves more credit than he’s given. You’re so many things to him: strong, sturdy, beautiful.

He tilts your chin up, your gaze meeting his. There’s a look in his eyes that you can't quite read.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks.

You don't.

His fingers ghost across your skin; there but barely. You’d be lying if you said you hadn't tried to recreate the way he touches you; the way his long, skilled fingers make you writhe. Every past lover of yours pales in comparison to him. Your hands don't feel the same. It almost makes up for his fleeting nature. Almost.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the scarred side of his mouth twitching. His calloused hands cup your face. The warmth of his skin is inviting, and makes you lean in even closer. You feel yourself slowly giving in to him.

He leans back. You wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the evil sounding chuckle that leaves him. He watches as your eyes widen. Your brows knit in frustration.

“You stopped breathing there,” he says, “did you want me to kiss you?”

“No teasing,” you say, your voice weak.

Toji presses a quick peck to your forehead. Then your nose. Then the curve of your jaw.

“It’s my job to tease you,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze, “I like watching you writhe.”

Toji smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it back from your eyes. The gentle touch makes goosebumps raise along your shoulders. You visibly sulk when he pulls his hand away.

“Please,” you say.

The kiss he pulls you into is rough and needy. Toji nibbles at your bottom lip until you allow his tongue to explore the wet cavern of your mouth. He tastes faintly of alcohol. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. They wander up your sides, kneading the soft flesh of your hips and breasts, tugging your skirt up your hips to reveal your already wet pussy.

When he pulls away, an audible smack echoes through the room.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his large, calloused fingers tracing circles around your clit. You practically melt against his touch. You fit so perfectly against him, your chest pressed against his, your knees planted on either side of his thighs. Each moan and gasp that threatens to spill past your lips, choked by his tongue, spurs him on further. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. He doesn't smell like much of anything; laundry soap and shampoo he stole from you.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, aching for his touch. So close yet so far from your own release. He offers his hand to you. Obediently, you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits.

“Strip.” He orders. You comply.

Your—his—shirt comes off first. Slowly you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. The corner of his lip twitches when he realizes you have no bra on underneath. His hands come up to palm at your breasts, gently tugging and pinching at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. Calloused hands squeeze eagerly at them, admiring their roundness.

Next goes your skirt. Momentarily you have to shift off his lap to slide it down your legs. One of his hands gropes appreciatively at your ass. He lands a quick slap, admiring the way your ass jiggles, chuckling at the soft gasp that leaves you. It stings, but you wouldn't consider it painful. His hand smooths over the red mark he’s left.

"Look at you," he says, "my good girl.” His laugh comes from low in his chest. The heat that rises to your face is undeniable. Out of embarrassment your hands raise to cover your face. Instinctively your arms cross over your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen you like this before.

“Don't hide yourself,” he gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the moonlight reflects off your skin, “I want to see you.”

You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need- and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.

He’s ready to show his affections with his tongue. Rather unceremoniously he lays back, guiding your hips to settle over his chest. His dark hair pools around his head.

“Be a good girl and ride my face,” he says.

There's no hiding the way you blush. From chest to forehead you’re bright red. Even the tips of your ears take on a pink color. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face, thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.

His tongue dips in your folds, swirling around your clit. He presses kitten licks to your clit. Toji’s touches are always achingly close to where you need them, but not quite. His touch is fleeting in nature; just like him. Your fingers bury in his hair, guiding him to where you want him most.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine.

His grip on your thighs tightens, pulling you down against his face. Your needy clit is lavished with affections from a hot tongue. His skilled tongue traces circles around your clit, gently sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud. Aside from your own moans are the sounds of a man very content with what he’s doing. He could die happy with his head between your thighs.

You grind down against his face, content to chase your own release. Heat pools low in your stomach, building with each skilled flick of his tongue. You’re reduced to a moaning, babbling mess, crying out his name like it’s a prayer.

The knot in your stomach snaps.

Toji lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, holding your hips down. It takes a moment for the overstimulation to register in your lust-addled mind. His tongue still works eager circles around your clit, seemingly unaware of your writhing form. The lower half of Toji’s face glints in the dim light. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions from your desperate grip. A sleepy, mischievous grin spreads across his face. It's not often you see him so relaxed.

Your post-orgasm haze leaves you sensitive, and shaky. His hands run over your flushed skin, his eyes hungrily taking in your form. Though he’s not the most verbal with his affections, his eyes can’t hide what goes on in his head. He takes you in all at once, yet piece by piece too. His eyes say what his mouth won't.

“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.

You swallow hard.

He guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle one of his large thighs, palming his growing erection. With the change of position, his bulge grinds right against your leg. Toji’s eyes darken in warning. He lifts his hips just enough to shove his pants down. His cock springs free from his boxers, the tip glistening with precum. It's built like the rest of him, long and thick, the hairs towards the base are dark and a bit unruly. The head takes on an angry red color. His size is a bit intimidating, but he always makes sure you’re prepared enough to take him.

You lower yourself onto him slowly. You fit around him like a glove; the warm, velvety walls of your cunt clenching around him. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, though you show none.

“You can take more than that, can't you?” He asks.

You nod.

He still gives you a moment to get used to his size. His hands find your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breath hot against his skin. The intimacy of the situation doesn't go over his head. He leans to nip at your earlobe, cooing in your ear how good you’re doing, how well you fit around him. Toji trails wet, open mouth kisses down your neck. The gasps and moans that leave you as you shift to get more comfortable makes his cock twitch.

“My good girl,” he coos, “taking all of me like this.”

He guides your hips as you bounce on his cock, his nails digging into your plush thighs. Toji can't pry his eyes away from the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. Greedy, calloused hands palm at your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. Sweat beads in his hairline. You don't think you’ve ever seen him so focused.

One of his hands moves down to toy with your clit, working circles against the bundle of nerves. He notices how your breath hitches, how your lips have been bitten pink, how your pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks. You don't.

His hands find your hips, momentarily lifting you off his lap, laying you down on your back. He fucks into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. His pace is brutal.

Toji grunts as your nails rake across his back, leaving angry red marks. His lips latch onto the fleshy part of your neck, sucking and nipping in a way that makes you whimper. A collar of dark marks nearly circles your neck. It brings him an odd joy seeing you marked up in such a way. People know you’re his.

There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge, but a mixture of everything. From the way his skilled fingers toy with your clit to the way his cock leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Your legs clamp around his waist as you cum, crying out his name. With the way you clench around him, pulling him back in, he isn't far behind.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he nears his own release. Toji’s praise turns to broken sentence fragments about how good you’re doing, and how beautiful your body is underneath him. For just this moment his stoic nature fails, and he lets his affections pour fourth.

“You’re gonna take all of it.” He says. “You’re gonna take all of my cum.”

And you do.

Hot, thick ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb, spilling out and running down your thighs in streams. To stifle his grunt, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. A small, pained whimper escapes you.

As he pulls out, he’s hit with a pang of regret for not using a condom. Aside from the mess, he doesn't want to knock you up. That doesn't stop him from shamelessly leaning back and admiring the mess he’s made. Any bit of worry he has is quickly forgotten.The sight of your fucked-out form leaking his cum lights a whole new need within him.

He pulls you to lay on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to him. Your bed would probably be more comfortable, but he doesn't want to risk moving you. A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. His quiet heartbeat acts as a lullaby. You find yourself nuzzling into his chest,

“You better stop that, sweetheart,” he says, “unless you want a round two.”

[kurokoros]

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.” 

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?” 

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty. 

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all. 

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation. 

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!” 

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers. 

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation. 

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass. 

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow. 

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still. 

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head. 

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you. 

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes. 

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.” 

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” 

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

[pixla]

hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

[love4buckybarnes]

HERE IN BROOKLYN

Summary: Stuck for the night in Brooklyn, New York, Y/N meets a stranger at the bar. At first it seemed like a one night stand, but the more time they spend together, the harder it is to let go.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. SMUT WARNING-unprotected sex, oral receiving male&female, and steamy hot.

A/N: hope you enjoy this one. I had a pleasure to writing this one. My inbox is open for anonymous requests.

“This can’t be happening right now!” Y/N exclaimed at the woman behind the desk. “When will the next flight be?”

This was the cherry on top of one of the worst weeks of her life. Her asshole of a boss sent her on a work trip to Brooklyn, New York, in the middle of winter. She worked as a marketing agent for a sales business. Earlier morning on this day, she pitched her strategies to a potential client. It was important because this was the last opportunity to prove herself to her boss. Unfortunately, they rejected her ideas and upon hearing the bad news, she was fired on the spot over the phone. So, here she was at the airport only trying to get back home.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do,” the check-in clerk apologized to calm the frantic woman the best she could. “Because of the oncoming storm, all flights have been canceled until further notice. We will post new flights once we feel it’s safe.” She turned her attention elsewhere to help another customer.

Y/N stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, before storming away. “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

White powder fell from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. Icy, bitter air nipped at any exposed skin. Y/N could see the fog of her frustrated breaths. She tightened the thick coat around her as the snow quickened its pace. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the cold. Everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Finally, after waiting in the freezing snowfall, the headlights of the cab appeared in the distance.

• • • • •

Bucky laid there on the couch in his living room, listening to the low hum of the TV. All he wanted was to get some much-needed sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, instead of darkness, he would see memories of his past fill his mind. He’s seen a therapist. Any progress he makes, the doubts that whispered in his head held him back. It wasn’t going to be that easy, he knew that. Nothing he could do can change or erase what he’s done.

Instead of some shut-eye he grabbed his coat, and he found himself wandering outside in the cold. He made his way to the local bar down the street.

Bucky took a sip of the bitter liquid that calmed his nerves. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he still enjoyed the taste and the burn in his throat. With enhanced hearing, his ears picked up the faint sound of boots walking to where he was sitting. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman sit down next to him.

“3 shots please,” she requested to the bartender, voice distressed. She choked one down as soon as they have been set down in front of her.

His head cocked to the side to get a better look. Her beauty struck him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Bloodshot eyes met his briefly. He noted the puffiness around the fragile skin as if she had been crying.

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He leaned over, so she could hear him over the loud music and voices. “Rough night?”

The second shot glass was raised up and she paused, looking at him. “Could be better,” she replied dryly. The clear liquid passed her lips. She cringed at the taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, mine too.” He took another sip of his beer. “Are you from around here?”

She shook her head. “I’m here for a business, or was,” she explained. “My boss fired me today because I didn’t get the contract... I was supposed to fly back home tonight until they canceled the flight. So now I’m here.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up at what she said. “Yeah. You’re night is much worse than mine. I’m sorry. That definitely sucks.” He swiveled the stool around that he sat on to face her and stuck out his human arm. “I’m Bucky.”

She looked down at his hand, hesitant at first, before placing hers in his. “Y/N.” She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him, she recognized him. “Wait a second, you’re the Winter Soldier. I’ve watched you on the news.” Y/N found him attractive. The long dark hair she’s seen him with on TV was cut short, and he had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen.

Not being used to people recognizing him, he looked away. He was mostly afraid they would judge him for the bad things he did, instead of the good. “Which side of me have you seen?”

Y/N frowned at this. “Both. I like the good Bucky.” She drank down the last shot.

Bucky went to say something else but tensed up when her arm reached out, a hand grabbing on to his. Normally, he would freak out whenever someone touched him out of nowhere. That was then, so he relaxed.

She tugged on him. “We should go dance. This is my favorite song.”

At first, he stalled, staying in his seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t really dance.”

Y/N ignored his protests and continued to drag him on to the dance floor. She stumbled on her own feet, feeling fuzzy from the alcohol.

Bucky was a bit uncertain, but he followed her anyway. She swayed her hips to the beat with a grin on her face. He stood there, not knowing what to do, nor did he have any intentions to join her. That was until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. On instinct, he placed his hands on her waist. He decided he needed to loosen up and live a little, mimicking her movements.

Y/N had a boost of confidence from the booze running through her veins. She pushed herself up on to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips on to his.

For a second he was frozen in shock. A rush of something unexplainable came over him, telling him to kiss her back. His palms moved to each side of her face as the kiss deepened. “Want to get out of here?” he asked against her lips. Y/N nodded, and that’s all it took for Bucky to lead her back out into the cold.

• • • • •

As soon as they made it inside of his apartment, she was against the wall, Bucky hot on her tail. Their mouths locked in an intense kiss. Bucky kicked the door closed with his foot as he moved his mouth roughly against hers. His human-hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her hips to brush against him. Y/N panted for breath when he tore away to pepper her exposed neck with kisses, her head lolling to the side to give him better access.

Bucky had a sudden sense of nerves, causing him to pause his pursuit. “To be honest, I haven’t done this in a long time.” The words he spoke came out in shaky whispers.

She looked at him in a dazed way, her eyes filled with lust. “Do you want to stop?”

To answer her question, Bucky kissed her again. His tongue that wove into her accepting mouth found hers, and they danced together. He hoisted her up by her thighs, her legs wounding themselves around him. By the time they reached his bedroom, most of Y/N’s clothes were thrown every which way, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Bucky’s mouth made a trail from her lips to her neck. His lips traveled further down to find the curve of one of her breasts. With ease, he popped the clasp of the undergarment and tossed it behind him. Y/N arches at the warmth of his tongue flicking against her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth. Teeth grazed the swollen bud while his hand massaged the other.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, breaking the silence. She gripped the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his arms to assist her.

For a second Bucky’s insecurities got to him and closed his eyes tight, scared of what she’ll think of his metal arm. But all his fears washed away when she didn’t even acknowledge it, pulling him closer towards her. Y/N’s hand found the zipper to his jeans and he kicked them off, his briefs following in the same direction.

He hooked his hands, one on her hip and one on her thigh. Before she knew it, she felt the dip of the bed under her weight as she sunk into the sheets. Their bodies pressed ever so close together, skin to skin. Lips locked, his fingers lacing into her hair. Once again, he let his lips wonder her body until they reached the spot where she wanted to feel them the most.

Hot breath brushed against her clothed core. A cool sensation ran along her slit. Without a warning, her thong was torn off. Light feather kisses littered the inside of her thighs.

A breathy moan seeped out when she finally felt his wet mouth encase her pussy. He suckled on the bundle of nerves. The flat of his tongue licked up in a slow motion. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. The cold feeling came back. She shivered in response as it pressed its way into her entrance. She twitched and writhed under his touch.

Tension rose inside her as she was reaching her peak. At the sound of her moans and motions of her squirming, the movements of his tongue on her clit quickened its pace. His metal fingers moved in a rhythmic motion inside her. She screamed out his name. Her orgasm washed into his mouth, and he sucked her clean.

Bucky crawled back up and kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips exciting her. She flipped them over, wanting to return the favor. Without wasting time, she took his rather large length in her mouth. Tongue flicked and circled around the head.

“Shit baby. That feels incredible,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands found themself tangled into her hair.

She bobbed up and down, massaging his balls. He quivered at the sensations he was feeling. Before he could let go just yet, he pulled her up and was back on top, his knee spreading her legs apart.

They shuddered in unison when the tip of his groin brushed against her entrance. Not being able to contain it any longer, he shoved the rest of his dick all the way inside as far as it could go. He groaned in pleasure at her wetness.

Bucky went slowly at first. He wanted to avoid hurting her, but she urged him to speed up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, crying in ecstasy. His breath fanned over the side of her face and bare skin.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he growled out in a hungry tone. He pounded in to her in fierce strokes. She felt extraordinary against him.

“Me too,” she moaned out, her eyes rolling back.

They both let out a series of almost animalistic moans, the rush of their release sending them into complete bliss. Bucky collapsed on top of her, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush her. He rolled to one side of the bed. Y/N followed him, her arm and leg slung over his torso. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping his arms around her too. The two laid there breathless, like they had the wind knocked out of them.

• • • • •

“Careful, it’s hot,” Bucky warned her, handing her a mug of steaming hot tea. He took a seat next to her on the couch with a cup for himself.

“Thanks.” She sighed at the warmth the mug gave off to her hands, the heat soothing her insides. They were fully dressed and shared a large blanket that bundled around them.

The rest of the night was spent sat on the couch together, talking and getting to know each other. Y/N spoke about small bits of her life, and he told her some things he remembered before he became the Winter Soldier, back when Captain America was his best friend. Soon enough, they both drifted off to sleep against each other. And for once, rather than nightmares, Bucky had pleasant dreams.

The weather cleared up the next day. Bucky and Y/N spent most of it wondering around Brooklyn. He showed her around to some of his favorite places.

Bucky quickly grew fond of Y/N. He felt at ease around her, which is something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Was it crazy to say it is love at first sight? The things he was feeling, he wished it would never go away. Everything about her made him crave and want more. The little quirks she did like her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled. And when she got shy, she would play with her hair. Y/N’s presence enticed him. The usual worries, the negative thoughts, and all else that beat at Bucky daily went away.

Y/N sensed it too. She saddened more when the day went by. Being around Bucky, she felt light on air as if she was floating and like she was on Cloud 9. There was something in her that was begging her to stay. It told her not to board that flight and go home. But she was afraid of being vulnerable so fast. She was also not used to change.

Later on, they found themselves at a park. Both sat down on a bench, watching families play on the snow and people all around them.

Bucky turned to her. Those steel-blue eyes that were starting to tug on the strings of her heart held sadness. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, his voice gloomy.

Y/N thought for a moment. She almost wanted to say no. “I should get back home.”

“Or you could stay,” he pushed. “You’d like it here and would be happier here. It’s New York. There are opportunities here, you could find a better job, and there’s me.”

Something rubbed her the wrong way. She stood up, whirling around to face him. “You only met me last night, and you already think you know what’s best for me?”

He was taken aback at her outburst. His hands went up in a defensive stance. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry that you thought that. I just don’t want this to end.”

“You’re just being selfish. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls that you could pick up at the bar that I’m sure would be happy to have sex with you,” Y/N snapped out. Her own words surprised her. As soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them.

Bucky was confused at her words. “You assume that I picked you up at the bar just for sex? Is that what you think all of this was? And hey by the way, you’re the one who came on to me.”

Y/N jabbed at his chest. “Yeah, well, I was upset and had a bit to drink. I didn’t think it would go any further than this.” She wasn’t even upset at him. She honestly didn’t know why she was mad. Maybe it was the fact that .

The commotion stirred attention from a couple of bystanders as they watched the scene unfold.

“I’m not just some guy that uses girls. That’s not me at all,” he retorted back, standing up too.

Y/N became distraught and emotional. Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “It shouldn’t have gone further than it has. I’m supposed to move here all because you got caught in your feelings? Well, I did too. We have to say goodbye.”

“But it doesn’t have to end now. I feel something for once in the longest time.” Bucky felt his stomach turn. His fists balled at his side, clenching and unclenched.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she croaked out. “I can’t stay. I can’t change everything suddenly for you when we just met.” She turned on her heels and ran off, hurrying down the park. She waved down a nearby taxi.

Bucky just stood there watching what could be the start of his life drive away. The cab disappeared, and his head lowered. He felt stupid. He knew he was in the wrong. She had every right to feel and think like she did. At first, he thought about just forgetting it and going home. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let it go. “Fuck!” he blurted out loudly, scaring the surrounding individuals. He raced down the street and flagged down a taxi as well.

Y/N grabbed her stuff from the conveyor belt. She got there just in time. The plane that will take her home had just landed. Her mind was swirling with many emotions. She felt the guilt eat away at her for being mad at Bucky. She couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much. All he wanted was something good for once. She also wanted it so badly too. But her life isn’t here. She wasn’t about to put it on hold.

Before she could make another step forward, she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Y/N recognized it as the metal arm that belonged to Bucky. He spun her around. She went to speak, but lost her train of thought when a pair of lips came crashing down on hers.

A few seconds into the kiss, Bucky pulled away. He placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes said everything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to change your life. You’re right. I was being selfish. I just, I felt different around you. For once, when I’m around you I was at peace. All the worries and darkness that I have, is pushed aside. It felt so good to have a sense of freedom from the constant battle I have everyday. I didn’t want to lose that.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes at his confession. His thumbs quickly swept them away. “I’m sorry too, for getting mad at you. I let my emotions and doubts get to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m so grateful that I make you feel that way.”

He kissed her again, this time it was soft and full of promises. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, hopeful.

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, Bucky. I promise.”

They shared one last kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye. It meant see you soon.

Y/N kept that promise.

• • • • •

She leaned against the window, looking out. The plane has just landed. Y/N gleamed with happiness and excitement. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to JFK Airport. It is 7:43 pm and 60 degrees out.’

Her happy thoughts drowned out the rest of what the captain was saying. It was the end of March. The snow has melted away. Here she was, back in New York.

Bucky sat at the bar, beer in hand. His mind wandered with delight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today and yesterday. Mid-sip, his extraordinary hearing, his ears perked up at the sound of heels approaching him.

“Rough night?”

His lips curved up in a grin. That voice was something he was impatiently waiting to hear again. Setting the bottle down, he swung around. There she was. The woman who has not left his mind ever since they met stood right in front of him.

“Actually, my night just became even better,” he spoke. The grin on his face broke out into the dorkiest smile.

Y/N’s matched his. “I have some good news to share.”

He arched his brow in response.

She sat down on the stool next to him. “I got an internship,” she began to say. “And if they like me enough, a permanent job. Here in New York to be exact.”

Bucky’s heart swelled, as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He reached over and kissed her. Oh, how much he missed those addicting lips. He pulled away. “That is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, Doll.”

“The good thing is that the people I’m working with I’ve personally worked with in the past,” she said. “So it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Well, we need to celebrate. How about I take you on a proper date?”

Y/N’s heart soared. “I can’t say no to that.”

This was the beginning of a new start for both of them, together.

[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

[captain-mcdavid]

three times to fall - nolan patrick

word count: 2k

smut: yes | no

summary: three times the reader realized they might have more than just friendly feelings towards nolan.

warnings: steam, swearing, alcohol (this is like the first thing i’ve written here since gpp, so bear with me, it might not be that great)

the first time

It was getting harder and harder to keep track of your group of friends in the crowded stadium, you stumbled along, your head turning left and right frantically as you looked for a familiar face. 

You slowed your pace, mouth twisting in confusion when a finger hooks through your belt loop, yanking you back into a solid chest. “Watch where you’re going,” Lips graze your ear, a recognizable deep voice whispering while hands slide to rest over your hipbones, guiding you through the crowd. 

You turn your head back and up to look at Nolan, his blue eyes zoned in on moving the two of you through the crowd. His hands stay solid on your waist, and the longer they sit there the hotter the skin starts to feel. You pull forward a little more, trying to distance yourself, hoping that maybe Nolan will let go, but his fingers just tighten on your skin making you picture things you really shouldn’t be picturing with one of your good friends. 

Suddenly Nolan jerks you to the left, and if it weren’t for his solid grip on you, you’re sure you would have tumbled over, but thank god you’re able to stay on your feet in his presence. Just literally, though. Definitely not metaphorically. Your mind trips over almost every little thing he does. 

“There she is!” You hear Leah before you see her, she appears as people clear the small corner your friends are tucked into. “Couldn’t keep up?”

She teases you and you feel the rumble of Nolan’s laughter against your back, reminding you just how close the two of you are. 

Instinctively your hand lands on his wrist, and you swear you feel an actual spark.

“We’re gonna head to the exit on 170th, it’s closest to the cars.” Leah says, and you nod.

Your ears are still ringing from the music but you hear Nolan mumble, “Sure,”

And then the group keeps walking, Nolan still behind you, his hands still on your hips and you heart still beating way too fast.

What is happening?

...

the second time

Standing against the wall you watch as the other party goers do shots, acting rambunctious and carefree. A small laugh escapes you when you see Travis throw his beer can on the ground, stomping on it mercilessly for no reason.

Another wave of the loopiness that pushed you to seek space in the first place hits, so you wander down the hall, pushing into the first room with a bed.

It’s clean, but a fast clean. The type of tidying someone does when they’re in a rush. There’s hockey memorabilia everywhere, and when you see the photo on the bedside table you realize that you’re in Nolan’s room. You feel odd being in here but you slouch onto the bed anyway, feeling better as soon as you’re off your feet.

You lean to look at the pictures on the bedside table, smiling at the sly grin Nolan sports in almost everyone of the photos. Since the concert you had been thinking about him more than you should. It wasn’t normal to view a good friend like this, one that you’ve known since elementary school.

You’ve watched him grow up. And somehow you started seeing him less as the goofy kid that kicked everyone’s ass in gym class hockey, and more as a man. A hot man. With a good sense of humour and an extremely charming smile.

“Snooping?”

Your head snaps towards the door when you hear his voice, his lazy grin lets you know he’s not serious so you smirk in response, giving him a nod, your heart rate picking up.

There are a lot of things running through your head at the moment, and you’re very close to saying every single one of them, but you’d need one more shot to do that.

He runs his hand through his hair as he walks over to you, and your filter loosens enough for the words to slip out, “Can I play with your hair?”

Nolan laughs and you giggle along with him while he sits beside you on the bed. “You wanna play with my hair?”

You nod, biting your lip as you crawl menacingly towards him. His eyes widen and he inches further away, grabbing at your wrists when you try to reach for him.

“No,” He laughs, pushing you away.

You sit back on your knees and frown, “Please,”

He scans you with furrowed brows for a moment before sighing and nodding. You scoot behind him with an excited squeal, signalling his loud laugh, and a flutter of your heart.

You wouldn’t do it- any of this really- if you weren’t intoxicated, but knowing that you can blame all of your embarrassing actions on alcohol. Throwing caution to the wind you move so that your legs are on either side of him, you’re not expecting him to, but almost instinctively he leans back into you. With a grin you run your hands through his locks and he makes a fake moaning noise.

“I’m gonna braid it,” You whisper, separating the hair into three chunks. You’re surprised by how soft it feels in between your fingers. You’re focused on braid and you’re nearly halfway done when you feel a light touch on the bottoms of both of your feet. It’s an uncomfortable tickle that makes you fidgit, both your legs coming to wrap around Nolans torso.

Realizing the weirdness of it all you’re about to move your legs but Nolan holds them there. “What are you doing?” You ask, wiggling your feet in his lap.

Nolan stands suddenly and you gasp, grabbing his shoulders quick so the other half of you doesn’t fall behind. “Nolan put me down!”

He spins maniacally squeezing your calves relentlessly while you shake with laughter. You jerk one leg free finally nearly falling when it hits the ground. Nolan drops your other leg and you use all your strength to shove him. You’re expecting more than him just lazily falling onto the bed, but that’s all you get despite what you though was an impressive output of strength. “Asshole,” You murmur, moving closer to push at his chest, but he catches your wrist with a smirk, yanking you right into him.

You’re nearly chest to chest, and you’re extremely confused as to what’s going on but you let it happen anyway, moving easily as he guides you to straddle his lap. You have a staring contest for a minute, but the look in his eyes is so intense you need a break, so you reach your hands into his hair again, running your nails along his scalp. His eyes flutter shut, hands coming to rest in the back belt loops of your jeans.

“Nolan,” You whisper, and it sounds like a question, cause you’re seriously wondering what the hell is going on.

He opens his eyes and hums a response, one of his hands moving from your back to your face. His thumb catches your bottom lip and he sweeps it down, watching the way it moves.

Your heart is no longer beating steadily at this point, because you can’t believe that this is happening. But it is, and he’s definitely leaning in closer. When he kisses you the first time it’s gentle, so soft you’re not even sure it actually happened. Your lips mould together lightly, almost like he’s afraid of your reaction.

When he pulls back and your eyes flutter open, lips still parted he stares back, his gaze flickering between your own and your mouth. You swear you see the slate color in his eyes darken before he connects your lips again, harder and more urgent this time.

His lips are so soft and inviting, the way they work with your own makes you feel like your entire body is buzzing. His tongue licks into your mouth and you instinctively lean into him, your hands sliding down to the naps of his neck. Tugging lightly at the hair you slide your other hand below the fabric of his flannel and t shirt, trying to get as close as possible.

Nolan pushes at your bum, queuing a roll of your hips against him. The low moan that your movement entices has you pulling away with a gasp, fuck he’s hot.

You observe him with wide eyes, his swollen lips and heaving chest. He tilts your chin up forcefully, exposing your neck. He bites into the skin gently, and you want nothing more than to lean back in and kiss the life out of him, but sober you is fighting for the steering wheel, which is why you blurt out, “What are we doing?”

“Making out,” He mumbles, words muffled against the skin of your neck.

“Just making out?” You reply, your hand gripping harder at his hair. You’re like pushing him into you, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Do you want me to do more?” He whispers, pressing his lips right below your ear.

“More...?” It comes out breathy, you’re totally engrossed in what his mouth is doing.

“Yeah,” He starts, kissing down the column of you neck before dragging his tongue back up. “More.”

A loud moan escapes you at his actions, and he chuckles against your skin. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,”

Then he’s standing up, but you’re prepared this time, holding onto him easily. His teeth are dragging across your collarbone now, while he strides across the room, he kicks the door shut and then turns back to drop you onto the bed.

His lips travel down your neck and chest, and when his hands slide up the fabric, and just when he’s about to pull it off, the door busts open, almost as fast as it just closed.

“Nolan!” Travis yells, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s literally on top of you. “Beer pong, let’s go.” And then he leaves.

The room goes silent and all you and Nolan can do is stare at eachother, the earlier moment completely ruined.

“Uh...”

“I should um-,” Nolan starts, and you nod, frozen underneath him. He just nods and then stands from the bed, looking back and forth between you and the door before he nods awkwardly and then leaves.

What is happening?

...

the third time

“We are not watching that!” Rachel barks, yanking the DVD case from Nolan’s hand. 

“Slap shot is a classic, but fine.” He grunts, flopping down onto the couch beside you.

You shift away from him a little, still not sure how to act. More chatter ensues, and you give input every once in a while, rolling your eyes at your friends incapability to choose a movie. Finally, someone decides on the Avengers, and not everyone is happy of course, but the opening credits start to roll anyways. 

Ignoring the five people already on the couch, Rachel parks herself directly in the middle, squishing everyone up against each other, groans and swears are heard from all of you but Rachel just waves you off, making you roll your eyes. 

You feel Nolan shift beside you, turning so he’s more on his side giving you a little more space. “Here,” He mumbles, hand finding your leg and adjusting you so you were in the same position, your back pressed to his front. He’s practically spooning you, your right shoulder pressed to the back of the couch. You’re stiff against his body, and it’s like he can feel it, cause he rubs his hand back and forth against your thigh.

You haven’t talked about what happened at his party, and Nolan seems to be acting like nothing has happened, but you can’t brush it off that easy. Not after all these feelings you’ve been having.

To your surprise he doesn’t move his hand, it stays in it’s place a few inches above your knee. Leah chucks a blanket over the herself and the two of you, making Nolan’s very noticeable PDA less noticeable.

As the movie starts, your friends chatter and jost at eachother, but it dies down eventually, everyone quieting to watch the action.

You eventually relax too, leaning back into Nolan instinctively, your eyes drooping the longer the movie plays.

At some point the noise around you mutes completely, Nolan’s warmth and steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

You don’t wake until the movies over, your friends all nudging on the couch to get up.

You shift, trying to appear less groggy but then a hand slides from your leg to your waist, and Nolan pulls you back against him.

“Tired?” His low voice rumbles behind you, and maybe it’s that you’re still tired, or maybe it’s that you just want to feel him behind you, but you nod, leaning even further back.

He chuckles, his head falling to rest on yours. And then your friends turn to face you all cuddled up, and the both of you are straightening up immediately.

You stand, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Good movie,” You say, and everyone laughs.

“Oh please, you watched maybe five minutes of it,” Leah quips, and you make a face back.

“Ready Nolan?” Trevor asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Everybody else heads to the door as well, giving hugs on the way out.

Nolan reaches out to give you a one armed hug before he walks out the door, and it’s so quick you almost miss the way he kisses the corner of your mouth, winking before he walks out.

You’re left standing there in complete shock, which seems to be a very common emotion when you’re around Nolan lately.

And all you can think is what is happening?

[existslikepristin]

Definitely Real Medicine

More backlog from AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1470220/definitely-real-medicine

Tags: TheLounge, G-Idle, Yuqi, maleOC"you", blowjob, Yuqi's beautiful overconfidence, cum is not medicine people

~~~~~

Yuqi texted you that she’d woken up much earlier than she should have that morning. Her voice was still hoarse from her sleep, even by noon, when you met up with her at G-IDLE’s dorm.

You had wandered into the dining room to see her sitting at the table, sipping tea from a mug and slowly filling out a sudoku puzzle. She was dressed in loose, robe-style pajamas. The makeup she wore to the party she texted you from the previous night was still smudged on her face, and her long, dark brown hair was in a messy ponytail. You could tell she was having a rough time by the way she squinted at the paper.

Yuqi stretched when you called out to her, further smudging her makeup as she rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes and yawned. She opened her arms to you, and you sat down beside her with your arms around her neck, teasing her by playing with her hair and lightly pulling on it. She moaned softly, then suddenly pushed you away. Your confusion dissolved as she turned her head to the side and started coughing like her throat was made of sandpaper.

When she stopped a few seconds later, she turned to you with a pouty face. "I’m pretty sure I’m getting sick, sorry. I wasn’t expecting to ruin our lunch plans."

“Awww. I thought Yuqi Power made you invincible.” You hugged her again.

Yuqi hissed her annoyance and gave you a threatening glare, but quickly changed her demeanor back to a happy, albeit miserable-looking one. “You want me to get you sick too?” She took a deep breath as if she was going to cough directly in your face.

You let her go and recoiled back, but she just laughed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I won’t really get you sick. Intentionally. But, uh… you’ll want to wash your hands.”

She grabbed one of your hands and pulled it to her mouth. There, she started sucking on your fingers.

"See? This is very good for your throat," Yuqi said, slightly muffled. "I’m out of medicine, but I can do this."

"Yeah, I don't think that’s..." You trailed off, unable to continue speaking when she started licking the flesh between your thumb and pointer finger.

She looked up at you for a moment. "Nah. It’s definitely good to suck on things when you have a sore throat like this. What do you think they make lozenges for? You know what would be really good though? Sucking your cock."

Your eyes shot wide open. Sex definitely isn’t the first thing on your mind whenever you’re sick, but Yuqi is a unique kind of person.

“Oh yeah? Would it really?” You smiled as she kept her eyes locked with yours.

Yuqi scooted her chair back and slid off, to land on her knees, and between yours.

She groaned. "I honestly just want to stick my tongue in your mouth, but I can’t right now. This sucks so much." She pouted and grabbed at your pants pockets to tug at them.

You rolled your eyes to reveal your sarcasm. "Okay, I’ll let you suck my dick to help your throat feel better."

“Perfect!” Yuqi bounced on her heels. “Off with your pants, please!”

You pushed your chair back so that you could stand up and do as she says. Your dick was already hard from the finger sucking, and now floated above her head. Her robe-pajamas fell to the floor around her as she wiggled the shoulders off.

Sat back down on the chair, Yuqi coughed a few times off to the side, but then lay her cheek against your inner thigh. This was something she’d done before, and you took the hint, stroking her other cheek with your thumb. She purred with contentment, but the tone was even lower than normal. You wondered if she should really be giving you a blowjob if her throat was feeling so bad, but you knew Yuqi’s mind was impossible to change.

After a few moments, Yuqi picked her head back up and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out and inching toward you.

You couldn’t articulate words for a second when she wrapped her lips around your cock. When you regained your senses, you said, "How come you're the one that's sick, but I'm the one getting spoiled here?"

She momentarily pulled her mouth away, using her hand to stroke you slowly.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is all for my benefit. My throat is going to feel fantastic after this!" She flicked the tip of your dick with her tongue before continuing her probably-misguided medical treatment.

Chuckling, you pulled her hair a little, not to take her further onto your shaft, but just as a light tease. She moaned onto you, almost making you shudder from the vibrations it sent through you. Her enthusiasm was contagious as she pushed herself deeper and faster, continuing to use her tongue to stroke you inside her hot mouth.

You put your hands on her shoulders, hoping that a less than obvious massage will actually do her a little bit more good than a blowjob. But she’s obviously committed to giving herself some respite in her own way.

But you had to admit, it was some good respite she was giving. You couldn't decide if you should have her finish you off, or take her elsewhere for a ride on the couch or her bed. You figured you'd wait it out and see if she had anything to say about either option. You were pulled from the vivid image of your potential future plan when she took you all the way into her mouth and held you there, still stroking whatever her tongue could reach with its movement restricted because you were filling her mouth and throat.

"Yuqi, that feels so good." You groaned, trying not to buck your hips up into her face. Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at you, and she didn't stop for an instant.

"If you plan on continuing,” you say with a bit of a struggle, “I hope you're of the opinion that swallowing will be good for your throat too, otherwise you better get yourself on top of me."

She slowed down her motions, but didn't stop. You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, both in anticipation and frustration. You weren't entirely sure what that answer meant, but you were comfortable knowing you'd be coming deep inside her throat shortly.

Yuqi’s mouth continued to move more and more slowly, but she didn't decrease the depth or enthusiasm with which she moved her head back and forth, swallowing the entire length of your cock each time before pulling away, her tongue still swirling around inside her mouth as she sucked.

You looked down to catch her eye again, and saw in her pleading eyes how desperately she wanted this, whatever it really was. You were just about ready to come, and that look she gave you really did you in.

"Soon," you muttered.

The corners of Yuqi’s mouth curled up as much as they could, wrapped around you. She hummed as she continued at her slow, steady pace. The amazing sensations of her mouth wrapped around your cock made you start to twitch. You couldn’t hold out any longer.

You erupted into her mouth, jizz surging up and between her lips. She giggled, muffled, as she locked her lips in place, using her tongue to keep stimulating you as you came. Not a single drop escaped her as she attempted to draw every last bit out of your balls.

Eventually it stopped, and you leaned your head back. “Well, happy now Yuqi?”

She gulped loudly before she spoke again. “Yup! I can already tell that I’m feeling b--”

Suddenly, she broke out into another coughing fit. You bent over her and slowly rubbed her back as she got it out of her system.

“Okay, I lied,” she said sheepishly.

You chuckled and helped her stand up, allowing yourself a look up and down her completely nude body that you hadn’t had the chance to spend any time to appreciate while she was between your legs. But you lifted her pajamas back up around her shoulders and tied the belt around her waist without feeling too bad about it.

“It’s all good Yuqi. I’m not going to complain about everything that just happened. In fact, I feel a little indebted. Can I at least make you some soup?”

Yuqi pressed her face up against your chest, hands wrapped around your waist. “Will you tuck me in and feed it to me in bed?”

“How could I say no to someone and something that adorable?”

[littlesimps]

AYO ITS ME I FIGURED IT OUT AND I FIGURED THE ANONYMOUS THING OUT TOO LMAOOOOOO

So, first of all foolish but like obviously you need some backstory SO maybe the reader and foolish could be friends yaknow and like they do friend things and they could yaknow have a moment

BRUahHsjjjdjsjz

Your wish is my command. (:

<Warning> A little Angst

>Oneshot<

FoolishG x Fem! Reader

“Scared to lose you”

Third POV

As usual, war goes on, betrayals happen, and people simply minding their own business and trying to step down or just joining in on it all.

(Y/n) didn’t pick any sides, the one thing she last thing she wanted to deal with is death and it’s blaming. She knew if she ever got caught up in the middle of it, she’ll get strikes hard with pain. Mentally or Physically. Now, (Y/n) may seem alone if she doesn’t join into the war and such. But, she does have a certain friend she always visits every now and then. Which is Foolish himself, a person who’s a Totem of Undying. Being friends with the god for the past few years, before they both even joined the Dream Smp lands.

Walking down to the desert Foolish lived in, she started pondering in her thoughts.

'Wonder how he’s been doing..' (Y/n) stares at the ground ahead of her, thoughts wondering from one thing to another. He’s been a bit annoyed lately, due to Bad and his so called “Eggpire” coming after Foolish about some egg. She’s glad that Foolish was alright and she, herself avoided Bad after hearing about him acting odd for some time. Something about red vines spreading and the egg. It worried her a little, but she shrugged it off and wandered her thought to another thought. 'He’s been acting upset lately after what Bad said something to him..' (Y/n) recalled back to Foolish explaining what happened after she came to visit Foolish when Bad and his group left. She knew Foolish was gonna have to talk to her about it instead of just not talking about it.

Snapping back into reality, (Y/n) spots the familiar god on one of his knees, rummaging through his chest.

He wore his usual white shirt, and white pants tied with a rope to keep his pants up. His golden skin shining a little in the sun as it was littered with dark spots from him also being part shark. Foolish cheeks were littered with more dark spots to over the bride of his nose. His brown hair hidden under a shark hood (Y/n) made for him, giving it as a gift for being given a stack of enderpearls she needed by him one time.

(Y/n) soon stops admiring him once Foolish turns his head towards her, standing up and walking over to her in his smaller form.

“(Y/n)! It’s great to see you again.” Foolish smiled, but the joy that was coming from his mouth never reached his eyes. (Y/n) frowned for a split second before grinning up at the man.

“I’d say the same thing to you too, Foolish.” (Y/n) chuckled, putting her hands on both her hips.

“So, what brings you here?” Foolish questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. The corner of (Y/n) mouth twitched upwards a bit more before it stopped once she remember what she was gonna talk to him about. Not wanting to ruin the mood so quick, she offers him for a walk, in which he accepts without hesitation.

Both of the two walk around, passing old buildings and new buildings that were created by their friends. Few were destroyed big or small, others were rebuilt much better or just the same.

The duo fell into a calm silence, walking on the prime path.

(Y/n) couldn’t help their thoughts wonder, their (e/c), eye’s lowering to where it was pointed to the ground.

She was enjoy this, yet, confusion stirred in her.

She kept noticing Foolish eyes staring down at her for a few times, brushing his hand against hers, and that his large shark tail swayed a bit more faster than usual since the start of the walk.

“(Y/n)?” Foolish voice comes into her ears, waking her up from her confused little thoughts running around her head.

She hums, looking up at Foolish.

He halts, sitting down under the bride and near the water. (Y/n) complies when Foolish pats the ground next to him, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“I know you want to talk to something with me, (Y/n)..” Foolish grin falls down, a small frown taking over his golden face as he looks at (Y/n). (Y/n) stayed silent for a bit, sighing after a minute or two.

She knew that she wasn’t good at hiding certain things from Foolish.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been upset lately, after what happened between you and Bad.” (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers as she gazes at the water before her. Foolish noted that she always did this whenever she was nervous.

Foolish scooted a little closer to her, watching her relax a little.

“I wanted to ask..” (Y/n) trailed off into a mumble, making Foolish frown dampen a little more. “Wanted to ask what?” He asked, raising a brow just a tad bit as he tilts his head at the woman sat next to him. A sigh draws from (Y/n) mouth before she fully repeats. “I wanted to ask what did Bad also say that made you upset lately?” (Y/n) turns her head to Foolish, making eye contact with his emerald, colored, eyes.

Foolish goes stiff, remembering back to what Bad said to him.

“I..” He tries to utter out his explanation, except Foolish throat felt like a lump was stuck in it as he started to feel emotional. Foolish breaks away from (Y/n) gaze, his eyes being planted to the ground beneath the two of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Foolish let’s it out quick, changing on what he was gonna say.

Standing up, he starts walking away without a goodbye. Although, (Y/n) wasn’t gonna let him off that easily. Quickly getting rising from the ground, she jogs over to Foolish and stops in front of him, keeping him from walking any further away. “(Y/n)—” He was instantly cut off by the said person. “Foolish. I understand that you don’t wanna talk about it, but it’s gonna get harder if you don’t tell me.” (Y/n) brows knit together, knowing this could’ve happened sense it was normal for him to sometimes try to shrug it off and avoid talking about things he’s upset about. “(Y/n)..you don’t need to know what Bad said. It’s none of your concern.” Foolish glares down at (Y/n), getting annoyed each second that pasts.

“It is my concern. I care about you, Foolish. You mean so much to me and I hate having to see you upset about something for a bit. So please..just let it out to me.” (Y/n) opens her arms to him, awaiting for the golden man to step into her arms and allow her to caress him, afraid to hurt him.

And so did Foolish did, taking a few steps forward and falling into (Y/n) arms. Trying to keep the tears in that pricked his eyes.

Foolish knew he couldn’t keep all his sadness away from her, she saw right through him like how he saw right through her. That’s what he loved about (Y/n). Foolish loves everything about her. He would do anything for her, no matter what. Heck, he would even die for her.

It made him happy that she was here for him.

“Bad..he—he said he was gonna hurt you...if I don’t join them. A-And I got scared, angered, and so many more at the thought of that.” Foolish voice cracked, giving up on keeping the salty tears in and allowing them to roll down his cheeks and onto (Y/n) shoulder.

“I’m scared to lose you...”

She rubbed his back, tangling her other hand in his brunette hair.

He sniffs, his arms tightening a little more around her waist. Wanting to feel closer to her than he already is. His thoughts now walking off to thoughts of her. Thoughts of (Y/n). The woman who’s been friends with him for years, the one he’s started loving for the past few months. The woman who’s always comforting him when he needs it.

Before he knew it, his mouth let out the words he’s always wanted to say to her ever since then.

“I love you, (Y/n)..”

(Y/n) hands stop moving, her body going tense. Foolish immediately realizes his mistake, hastily removing his head from her shoulder. “I-I didn’t—I’m so sorry—I don’t what I was thinking-” Foolish was cut short by a hand gently caressing his tear stained cheek. Slowly, he moves his emerald eyes over to (Y/n).

His body relaxes once he sees soft eyes staring at him, unreadable to know what (Y/n) eyes were showing besides them looking so kind and comforting.

Subconsciously, he leans his head into her hand. His hand leaving his side to caress (Y/n) hand.

“Foolish, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. Everything will be okay..and I love you, too.” (Y/n) beams up at Foolish, making him melt on the inside. He felt his cheeks heat up, he rubs his face into (Y/n) hand. Giving a small peck into her palm. Moving his head out of her hand after a moment of silence, he brings his other hand out, only using it to hold (Y/n) cheek. Foolish leans to her face, pausing to ask for permission. A small chuckle occurs from (Y/n), earning a nod as his only answer. He smiles before making his lips come in contact with hers.

A god being a mortals friend, to having a crush on her, and lastly..to becoming the person she’ll love always.

Hhhhhh man was it a little confusing to try and imagine how this should go, but this went pretty good then I expected tbh. Hope you enjoyed this by the way, dear friend!

[evilzoldyck]

Fiancée

part II

Suppressing down a burdensome sigh, you  looked back at the establishment who regretfully informed you that you were not able to match the prerequisites that the job description required. You knew all too well the insinuation of that statement, coming from a zero educational background and a rather low income class, the echelon of the societal hierarchy was brutal in your pursuit of a second occupation. Instead of quality, values and work ethic, they chose to look at the brands of your shoes and your status in this highly polarised civil structure.

Perusing through the town for any opportunity you could sought out until your heels formed blisters was a normal part of your everyday life, this day though, you figured you could take a short break by resting underneath a shady spot at the bustling market. While you were rubbing on your sore calves you can't help but overhear the excited prattle of a group of girls nearby. They all adorned leathered purses and scintillating jewelleries; young, beautiful and free of any burdens and responsibilities. 

“Have you heard? The Zoldyck family are hosting a formal competition for the chance to win the noble position of becoming a wife to one of their son!” The blonde haired woman reported with wide eyes. 

“Really? That family of assassins are holding a public trial?” Another one with carefully manicured acrylic nails spoke up. “You’d think as an assassin they’d be less privy about this.” 

“That’s not all, I heard that the winner also gets ten billion jennys,” the last one stated. “The Zoldycks are always ostentatious as ever, probably a marketing strategy to lure more girls in to participate.”

“Who cares about some jennys. I’d want to see the groom in question and if he’s really as tall, dark and handsome rumours made him out to be. If I hadn't been engaged, I'd try it out in a heartbeat.”

The blonde woman scoffed and retorted back, “good luck with that, I heard there’s over a hundred girls coming in from all over the world intending on participating already, and that’s just the numbers on the first day. Who knows how many will actually end up in three days time when the trial officially begins.” The group of girls wandered away until you couldn't hear their idle chats anymore, but their conversation still replayed over your mind like a broken record player. 

Ten billion jennys? In three days time? Those numbers alone made you heart skip a beat. There was a strong urge for you to look further into this for a mere moment before you scolded yourself mentally afterwards. There was no reason for you to get involved with someone as infamous as the Zoldycks. ‘The costs far outweigh the benefits,’ you told yourself. Propping yourself back up to your feet, you began to head home once the sun sets beyond the horizon. 

“Mother?” you called out once you stepped inside the shabby hole in a wall restaurant you ran with her. The candle lights all but one had been melted down, making it hard for you to see through the small, dark space. Once you turned around the corner and into the small kitchen room you spotted her cleaning up after a rather large spill which looked like porridge from the stone pot. “Mother what are you doing? You know you’re not allowed to look after heavy tasks,” you reprimanded, guiding her up back to her feet and wiped off the spoiled food from her hands with a nearby towel.

“It’s fine, just a little accident is all.” she waved you off as you continued to clean her hands where you spotted a rather large bruise on her along her inner arms.

“What happened?” you demanded in bewilderment. “Did that bastard come here today? Did he do this to you?” your series of questions did nothing more than to drive her away from you, but the thought of that filthy loan shark landing a hand on your mother made your blood boil and hands shake until you couldn't see anything else. “I’m going to kill him the next time I see him.”

“Oh hush, there’s no need for that,” your mother dismissed as if it was a trivial matter. “I’ll just clean this up and head on to bed-” you stopped her from bending back down to clean up after the mess and insisted that you do it yourself as you directed her back into her bedroom upstairs. Supporting her weight all the way up the stairs you assisted in preparing her bed and tucking her in. 

“You’re such a good kid,” she suddenly cooed, bringing up her frail and roughened hands from labour comfortingly up to your cheek. You held onto it and smiled down at her softly in response. 

“How did the interview go? Did you get accepted?” Once your smile disappeared into a disappointed frown she immediately soothed you. “Opportunities will come and go, don’t fret about it, darling. You’ll get it next time.” Though you nodded along with her words with a small beam, you knew you couldn't survive on optimism for much longer. 

“Good night,” you kissed down on her temple and blew away the fire flickering beside her bedside table before closing the door. Though it may sound impossibly crazy and foolishly dangerous, you knew where you had to go in a few days. Though the chance of you winning may be less than one percent, you would take any chance you had in order for you both to escape the life you currently had. 

The next two days went by in a blur, monotonous and grey as ever, and when you finally arrived onto the grounds of the Kukuroo mountain on the third day have the reality finally knocked you into your senses. Around five hundred girls filling your very peripheral visions stood and crowded in front of the ill-famed gate. Their mere chatter mass assembled together sounded like a roar, intimidating you by the sheer size of the sound of your competitors. Nevertheless, with a determined spirit, you filled in with the massive crowd around you. 

Suddenly, the noise all but halted once an old, feeble looking man made an appearance before the participants, smiling joyfully as if he knew something you didn’t. “Welcome ladies to the first day of the public trial on behalf of the Zoldyck family,” he greeted mirthfully. “We have expected a big turnout and for that we are more than grateful for. Therefore, this morning and the next marks the first preliminary task.” 

“Without further ado, each of you will have one chance to open the Testing Gate, which all of you must know that the first panel weighs around two tonnes and the ones after weighs twice as more as before, you are free to choose which panel to open. If you fail in opening the gate within the first five minutes I am afraid you are immediately disqualified from the competition. There is no need to label numbers as we expect them to go down drastically, I will monitor the first task for the time being and to all of you, I wish you the best of luck.”

There was an unnerving glances shared with each other by the girls, anxious on how to overcome the first issue with their high end shoes and neatly done hair and makeup. Of course, the Zoldycks won’t be looking at appearance to fit the mold, rather it was strength that they were seeking for. You cursed at yourself for not realising it soon enough too, wearing the nicest clothes you had in your closet and even going as far as spraying a bit of your mother’s perfume.

As the time goes by, the numbers slowly decreased with each failure. Some even left without trying, those who went undercover as a news reporter, a media freelancer hoping to snap a quick picture and those who thought they didn’t bear a chance. So far there were only five who managed to open the gate with one or two choosing the heavier panels. Once it was decided that it was your turn, the sky had already turned dark with the moon and the stars hung high above the skies.

Narrowing your eyes in front of two tonne door, you began to lean all your weight and force into pushing it open. There were sweats beading up to your forehead already as you continued to push on forward. “One minute,” the man stated. The minutes turned into seconds and so far no progress has been made. Gritting your teeth you kept your force constant hoping that you could manage to get a crack soon. 

“Four minutes.” Those very words alarmed you, making you lose focus for a mere moment. Though as quick as it came, you fortunately caught yourself, instead you drowned out the crowd behind you, along with time, sound and your senses and the elements of the world. Carrying that energy you had, you honed in on pushing your momentum forward. Suddenly a gap shifted, making you focus on not losing that velocity.

The older gentleman was counting down the last twenty seconds but you couldn't hear him, the ladies in the back watched in awe as you were the first one in a while to make such progress in the last few hours. When the crack widened to a space that you deemed was enough to slip your body through momentarily before the door swung back and crushed your bones, you managed to squeeze inside within the very last second.

Gasping tremendously for air from the overexertion of your strength, you looked around to find yourself on the other side in a quiet, shrouded forests along with the other girls who made it through before you. Once they've acknowledged your presence, they were quick to assess you head to toe with their sharp eyes. 

Of course, you couldn't forget that this was a competition.There was thick tension in the air between you all knowing that these people did not view you as anything but a rival. Taking your spot wordlessly on a tree stump, you waited for the first task to finish with the others and that meant waiting all night and day until each girl has had her turn on the gates.

This waiting game continued on until the next late afternoon when the sun was about to set again. There was now a total of fifty three of you waiting on the other side, each anxious and tired as every second passes. Suddenly, a pair of finely dressed men arrived bearing a stone faced expressions while carrying finely ornate candlestick to light the way. 

“Congratulations on passing the preliminary round. We now continue on with the trial by heading to the estate. You'll do your best job to keep up with us.” Without any further questions, they swiftly turned around and headed into the direction to the top of the mountain. It took you all a second to process what they said before you all followed and began your long trek uphill.

You were no stranger to walking vast distances but as you were currently running without sleep or food it made it quite strenuous for your journey up ahead. Once you've arrived, you’re greeted with the sight of a gargantuan house and in front, somebody waiting for you. 

“These are the ones who passed?” a woman dressed in a Victorian attire with a mechanical visor implored with a testy tone. 

“Yes Madame, should we escort them to their quarters?” One of the worker asked. The lady raised her hand in objection whilst keeping a steady view on all fifty three of you. 

“No need, I shall take them from here, you may be excused.” Without another word they bowed respectfully and left. “You all are here because you wish to make space for yourself in this family. Before you can idly daydream of such foolish fantasies, I will be here to test you all. You will be subjected to many trials, as many as I deem necessary, it will take days, months or even years but the trial will not end until I am satisfied that one of you is worthy enough. Should you break, cry, slip, scream, fall- should you show any sign of weakness during these times you are immediately disqualified.”

“Those of you who are not prepared for such endeavours, I advise you to head back now,” she stated, waiting for anyone to back out of the competition and when no one did, she narrowed her eyes further. “Very well then, follow me.”

There was an insinuation in her voice that tells you no matter what any of you will achieve you may never be deemed worth enough to earn a place in the family. Following the lady of the house dutifully she showed you all to a large room where fifty three futons are laid out in perfect symmetry on the floor along with a concave wood with a stick attached on the middle of the back and a pair of small bowls, one filled with rice and the other with cherry blossom petals for each bed. 

“You shall all sleep here during your time in the competition, those items you see are crucial to your rest. Place the rice to your left and the petals to your right head. The sticks are to prop your head up while you sleep where you will not make a single movement or sound. We will monitor you all night while you do and if I such as find a grain of rice or a petal out of place from their bowls or even failing to keep your head upright by these sticks, you are finished from here on out.” She instructed and before she could add more, she sniffed and grimaced for a second. 

“Be ready by six in the morning, the showers are down the hall to the left.”

Once she left, everybody claimed their spots on the bed and you took yours near the end of the back where it was the quietest. The one next to you was searching for her bowl of petals and you spotted it beneath her futon, out of her line of sight. When you offered it to her with a small smile she snatched the wooden bowl from you and averted her gaze instantly. 

“You shouldn't be here,” she muttered, sinking in her blanket. 

“What?” You couldn't help but ask. 

She rolled her eyes and huffed out an air of annoyance, “you’re going to get yourself killed.” Propping her elbows up to level with you, she eyed you seriously, “you’re not a nen user. We could all sense that back on the gates. Everyone here is a user except for you and that testing gate was nothing compared to what’s going to come. You shouldn't be here, you won’t come out the same if you do.” 

You watched her carefully rest her head on the stick and shut her eyes. Silently you did the same and through the pain and stress of your neck from balancing your head perfectly upright should’ve bothered you, it didn't do as much as her words. Still, you're willing to put yourself through hell, there was no other choice and to back out now would defeat your purpose.

It was close to dawn, and though you were restless all throughout the night you fought the urge to move and stayed perfectly still. Once you woke up however, you saw ten less empty beds. Frowning a bit, you got up to put your bed away and wash yourself before the clock strikes six.

Forty three people now remain and once you have all assembled in the main room before the entrance, the lady from before along with two other butlers arrived. This time she formally introduced herself as Kikyo Zoldyck, the Madame of the house and family. They directed you all towards a large room where a bowl of rice and soup was already prepared for each one.

“You must all complete your breakfast with proper, courtly manners, anything less revolts me. That means you must at all times during the meal to not slouch or make a sound, sit on your heels and eat a grain of rice one at a time.” She ordered acerbically. 

You took a seat to the one nearest to you and waited for their signal for you to eat. Once it was given, you apprehensively picked up your chopsticks and ate a single grain and more or less swallowed as it was so small you could barely taste or chew it. Five minutes have not yet passed when suddenly a girl doubled over, spilling her food everywhere whilst retching into the floor. Everyone turned their heads over to her in horror as they realised what you have all been eating.

Poison.

The smell of bile filled the room as Kikyo fanned her face to waft the air away from her vicinity and gestured to the guards to take her away. The rest of the meal was unfortunate as you struggled to ignore the groans and nausea of the others who fell victim along with the putrid smell around you. Ignoring your innate instinct to reject the food you chose to focus on your mind over matter, no matter what they were going to do to you, it was not nearly as painful as seeing your mother suffer when you could do something about it. 

It was then that your body went on almost pilot mode as you could not recall having any more thoughts or memories of yourself subjected to various torture trials. The days increased into weeks and the number of girls that were here soon dropped like flies. The woman that you spoke to on your first day, she was gone too by the fourth night as you watched the now empty spot beside you as you went to sleep.

Every day was a routine of testing the limits of your strength. Every meal given was always laced with some poison, it has come to a point where you suppressed your urge to vomit so hard each day that now it had sit still in your stomach. 

The same could be made every time you are sent to the electrocution chamber down in the depths of the cold basement where you could spend the whole day being shocked in miscellaneous voltages by the workers who looked like they were enjoying it too much. Or when snow came in, they would strip you bare of your clothes and drench you all in cold water outside. The lashings were always held arbitrarily though, they would only stop until the markings started to show as Kikyo deemed the sight of a scarred back to be ghastly to gaze upon.

Then there were only three, this time however, the task you were assigned was definitely an odd one. Kikyo was known for her admiration of finer things in life such as traditional japanese and eurocentric arts, this task she requires you was to perform an intricate dance. Beauty and gracefulness came later in the part of the competition you guessed. 

Though the level of difficulty was just the same as the previous ones.There was an emphasis on how every movement from the slightest tip of your fingers could immediately expel you if you strayed from the original choreography. For days at night you practiced until your feet would give out or until you heard birds chirping at the sight of the first light of the day. 

When the day finally came to determine your performance you are finally escorted onto the Zoldyck estate, though only one participant must attend at a time and you settled with being the last. So when it was finally your turn, you arrived at a private room where there was a screen that divided you from your spectators. The room itself was beautiful, lit with red candles and carefully carved up wooden walls that tells infinite stories.

You could see before you that Kikyo was not alone this time, there was another sitting patiently beside her. Before you could pry more to try and make out the mysterious figure, Kikyo’s voice reverberated through behind the screen to instruct you to begin. You inhaled a small breath and blinked in shock momentarily. You hadn't noticed before but the floor was absolutely covered in small broken glasses. You knew better than to expect the least by this point.

Clearing your mind as you do with every single trial that you participated in, you stepped forward. You could faintly hear the sounds of small shards of glasses every time you moved as well as feeling the red liquid slowly pooling beneath your feet. Nevertheless, you began without a moment to waste. Twisting at every turn, sliding your feet across the floor while masking your emotions with a stone, cold exterior. Hanging to every last words of her instructions to follow the exact routine. 

You were halfway done with your performance when the other figure suddenly stood up and came closer to the divider. Though you presumed it was quite unusual, you continued on with your dance until the person swiftly cut the screen seemingly with his bare hands to reveal an expressionless, grim man with long midnight hair and as far as you can tell, endless deep eyes.

The strange man that emanated pure darkness stood before you uttered your name in a low breath. “That is your name?” you halted your routine once he had addressed you as you nodded politely in response, looking down out of respect. 

“A daughter of a mere commoner, you run a restaurant with your poor, ailing mother down on an unnamed street. You don’t come from an impressive background or lineage, nor martial training of any skills and your nen has yet to be awakened.” He stated matter of factly. You held your tongue for you feared that you would be the cause of your demise.

He stepped forward towards you, his bare feet coming on contact with the sharp glass and yet no blood came gushing out like yours did. “You know the ones before you, they were the exact opposite. They came in and used their nen skills to protect and form a barrier against their skin and yet you endured even without having basic nen training which I would find quite impossible until this very day.”

“I could sense you are determined, but your heart is set somewhere else,” he came in closer and Kikyo now stood up, her lips pursed disapprovingly. “It is not me that you desire, is it?” The man was impossibly close to you that you found it hard to catch your breath and answer promptly. Judging by the implication of his words, he must be the son of the Zoldyck family.

“No.” You answered truthfully, not knowing whether or not that was the smartest move. He let out a small hum before asking once again, “then why do you do it? Why do you subject yourself to such extreme affliction without any power? Why do you fight so hard just to live another day?” 

“There are those worth fighting for, for every horrible persecution you put me through I will continue to fight.” His demeaning words spark a gust of defiance within you. “And you're wrong, I am equipped with power, something far more greater that no other kind of nen could reach.”

Furrowing his eyes, he looked at you in disbelief, “you're misunderstood, emotions cannot give you strength, they are mere obstacles in life’s objectives. It makes you weak.”

“Emotions aren't weak, they make me stronger, love made me stronger.” Looking into his eyes you saw no trace of empathy within him, you’re not shocked to learn if this man knows no concept of it. “It’s what kept me standing here after all this time.”

He stood still for a quiet minute, silently staring you down with those cold, dead eyes. He raised his arms and for a moment you thought he would strike you down with it and immediately dispose of you for speaking out of turn towards him. Instead, you're startled to find yourself swept off of your feet and held firmly by him, relieving you of your pain while your droplets of blood fell languidly, making a subtle drop against the wooden floor and glass.

“Illumi! What are you doing?” Shrieked Kikyo, holding up her dress to run towards the both of you. 

“The trial ends here,” he responded absentmindedly. “I have found my fiancée.” 

“No! It's only been a month!” She refuted erratically “She is the weakest of the bunch, her luck will run out soon just give it more time! There are far others more deserving with noble titles and background. You are upsetting the order, she cannot take your place beside you, she is far lesser than-” A look from Illumi caused her to clamp her lips shut.

“The sole objective was to find the strongest one to take the place as my wife and strengthen the Zoldyck family, was it not mother?” he asked bluntly. When she didn't respond he continued, this time facing you as he spoke, “I have seen proficient nen-users crumble under the pressures of these tortures, imagine the strength that she possesses once her nen is awakened.” 

“There is no need to look any further then, send the others home.” Illumi finished and began to carry you away from the room and Kikyo who appeared as if she was about to have a meltdown. 

Once the heavy doors were closed behind you, you flinched once you heard her piercing screams that shook the manor as he gave you a small imitation of a smile all throughout the time. 

You did not know whether to let your heart soar as you won the indisputable prize that could set a proper life for you and your mother or shrivel for the future. You could not have imagined in your wildest dreams for the man you’re sent to be wed off to be one that personified death. Just being held by him shook your very core. His aura radiated nothing but darkness, you felt no light in it that you could almost choke from the tension. 

There was no telling that this man would ever show compassion, there was something that tells you days with him would be worse than what you've endured these past few weeks. Setting your gaze forwards you tensed as you looked upon a macabre painting ahead of you, ironically painting your future ahead. 

In sparing your life, you ultimately gave him yours in return, but he and all his family would be a fool if they think they could take your love away.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

In the Dark

*Loki x Reader

*Summary: Reader is normally the one to help Loki through restless nights. Now Loki finds out what Reader does when they can’t sleep.

*Warnings: Reader wears glasses; brief mentions of death and loss. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: This is a gender neutral reader fic. I finally finished the Loki series and ugh I love Tom Hiddleston so much.

Tip Jar

**********

Loki had never been good with sleeping. He often ignored his need for rest, refusing to go to sleep until his body caved to exhaustion and forced him. He didn’t like sleeping, not when the nights haunted him with so much loss: the loss of his friends when he betrayed them the first time, the loss of his mother, the loss of who he was, the loss of his own life at the hands of Thanos, the list was too long. Then, when you with your sweet words and soft touches were able to guide him to bed beside you, there were moments where the nightmares turned to his current happiness. The dreams of losing you - whether it be by your death or you tiring of him, it didn’t matter - were perhaps the ones that got to him the most. The other losses he could handle; after all, they’d already happened and he’d experienced them. With your loss, however, he didn’t know how - or even if - he’d be able to survive. So when he woke up from one of those nightmares to the bed only holding a whisper of your warmth rather than you, he was confused and a little scared.

His eyes slowly blinked open, trying to make sense of your absence. As it fully registered that you weren’t actually there, his hand frantically patted your spot, as though trying to see if you’d just moved back a little further in your sleep. However, that rarely happened - you were more likely to cuddle further into his side than you were to move away from him. When he couldn’t feel you, he finally opened his eyes fully, just to see the blanket mussed up on your side. He scanned the room, trying to figure out where you could have gone. Your glasses were still on the nightstand, meaning that you hadn’t fully left the apartment. Your water bottle was missing, and the door was slightly cracked open. Reassured that you’d be back soon, he settled back into the blankets, waiting for you.

When you were gone for ten minutes, Loki began to get worried. It didn’t take you that long to fill up your water bottle, even if you were trying to navigate the apartment in the darkness with your horrid vision. Loki climbed out of bed, wanting to find you just to reassure himself that you were actually still there. He checked the bathroom next to your room just in case, but the door was open and the lights were off. Loki shook his head, going down the hallway to check the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw your shadow outlined by the glass door leading to the small balcony. You turned when you heard him, squinting as you made out his form.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You asked, still squinting as he walked closer to you.

“Nightmare,” he explained, shaking his head. “You weren’t there when I woke up and I-”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, immediately getting up to wrap your arms around his middle. He was quick to engulf you in a hug, resting his head on top of yours as he grounded himself. You were really here. You were in his arms, still with him, and you weren’t going anywhere. 

“It’s okay, dove. What were you doing?” He mumbled into your hair.

“I went to fill up my water bottle, and I kinda just got distracted by the ways the lights look at night,” you explained. He looked up, looking out the glass door to see what you were talking about. They didn’t look all that different to him, so he looked back down at you. “I forget you have good eyes sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I have my glasses off, the streetlights kinda do this blurry thing where the edge of the lights like diffuse. I dunno how to explain it since you have good vision,” you told him with a small laugh. “Do you want me to go back to bed with you?”

Loki shook his head, looking back out of the window. “No, I think I’ll be awake for a bit longer. Can we just stay here? I think I’d like to see things as you do for a moment.”

“It’s not much, it’s just sitting here and enjoying the quiet. The world is different when it’s the middle of the night,” you explained, pulling him with you to sit on the ground. You sat with your legs crossed, just looking out at the street in front of you. You loved living in the corner unit, getting to see down the length of the street for as far as your eyes would allow. The lights would blur together in this mess of light yellows and whites, providing the perfect background for your thoughts to wander.

Loki seemed unsure what to do with himself, first imitating your seated position, but then sitting with his legs out in front of him. He shifted beside you every minute or so, disturbing your own peace, until finally you forced yourself into his lap, pulling his arms around you. He looked down at you, confusion evident even as his arms tightened around you. 

“You’re thinking too much, love. Just focus on the lights and let your mind go blank. Think of a song or something to just let your mind stop overthinking,” you explained as best as you could. You often found yourself here when you couldn’t sleep, thoughts overwhelming your mind as you tried to get them to stop. You would sip at your water, your mother’s favorite song playing in your mind but never out loud because that would ruin the experience. It might take a while, but after you successfully cleared your mind, you’d be able to feel the call of sleep making your eyelids heavier and drawing you back to your spot beside your boyfriend.

“I’m not sure I can, Dove. You know I’ve never been good when alone with my thoughts,” he mumbled as though not wanting to disturb the quiet too much.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” You looked up and pressed a kiss to Loki’s jaw, feeling as he gave you a soft smile in return. You knew this didn’t work for everyone, so you started humming softly to provide some white noise to help ease him into the experience. It was an old song that Steve had introduced you to, but you enjoyed listening to it every now and then as part of your relaxation playlist. Loki’s body slowly started releasing the tension that was there earlier, and though he still held you strong in his arms, you could feel him starting to relax.

After a few minutes sitting there like that, Loki began to see the appeal of this entire ordeal. He always knew you liked looking out at city lights, but for the road ahead to be the only focus for this moment in time, there was just a different feel to it. When you looked at city lights from above, there was the feeling of everything being so small and insignificant, but sitting here in the moment, it was grounding. Loki could feel the lingering effects of the nightmare melt away as he sat here with you in the dark.

Loki didn’t know how long the two of you sat there, but he was content to stay until you told him you wanted to go back to bed. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice when you stopped humming for him. It took him a while to realize your breathing had deepened, but he was quick to notice when your head slumped against his chest, letting him know that you’d managed to fall asleep just sitting there with him. He smiled fondly at you, taking in your sleeping form. He would be content to stay there and let you sleep, but he knew you wouldn’t be fond of the aches that would undoubtedly plague your body when you woke.

“Dove,” he whispered at first, hesitant to disturb you. When you didn’t move, he figured he would have to actually wake you up. He wouldn’t be able to carry you, not from the sitting position he was in. “Dove, wake up.”

“Hm?” You hummed, barely opening your eyes. “I’m sorry, how long was I asleep for?”

“Not long,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure if it was true or not. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You just nodded, still half asleep as you moved out of his lap to stand up. He grabbed your water bottle before taking your hand, leading you back to your bedroom. Loki put the water bottle next to your glasses where you normally placed it as you climbed into bed, eager to be taken into the comfort of the covers. “Baby, hurry up.”

Loki smiled at your half-asleep demand, quick to follow your orders and climb into his side of the bed. As soon as he was settled in, you scooted over into his side, snuggling your face into his chest. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, your breathing enough to lure Loki back into his own slumber.

**********

When Loki woke the next morning, you were already out of bed. He looked over at your nightstand, seeing your glasses missing. Before the slight panic could set in - the nightmare from last night still close enough to make him insecure about your want to be in his life - he heard you making noise in the kitchen. Your noise was enough to calm him, and he was able to go about his morning routine before joining you. You were at the stove cooking breakfast, the song you were humming last night playing softly in the room.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“No, I woke up on my own,” He said, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Is this the song you were humming?”

“Yeah, Steve showed it to me a bit ago.” He hummed in acknowledgement, content to just hold you as you went about making breakfast. “This is gonna sound weird, but did you like sitting there with me last night?”

“I did. It was nice… different. We should do it again sometime,” Loki told you after a few seconds. 

“It’s not the same if you plan it,” you teased him, looking over your shoulder at him briefly. “I normally just do it when I really can’t sleep.”

“Why don’t you wake me up then? That way we can both be awake.” Loki knew you wouldn’t agree to it, especially with how much you’d fought to even get him to sleep the amount he did now. “Okay, bad idea.”

“I’m glad you realize it. I’ll meet you halfway - next time you have a nightmare, we’ll come and sit out here for a bit until your mind calms down, alright? That way we’re both awake anyways.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Great. Now, let go of me so I can serve us. Food’s ready.” Loki laughed at your sudden topic change, but let you go anyways. The second you finished serving the food, though, he took you back in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. With you here, in his life, he could actually rest; and even when he had trouble resting, he knew you’d be here to help him.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.