#anyway this was a post about me being a whiny baby with a cold and an ear infection that somehow turned into me analyzing my love life

[mikeymadisonsvibrator]

Marks

Tara Carpenter x Amber Freeman

Word count: 1277

Summary: What Amber and Tara were actually up to when "grabbing Tara's inhaler from Amber's room".

Warning: lesbian situationship!

Mild smut under the cut 🕺✂️

(repost cause something odd happened to the original post 🧟‍♀️)

As the last party-goers stumbled out of her house, Amber guided Tara upstairs, tugging at her hand, leaving their friends downstairs. Tara struggled, barely keeping up, with both her crutches clutched under one arm. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's on top of my desk," Amber said, trying to remember the exact location of the inhaler Tara came here for.

Tara looked back at Sam, who was frowning at the sight of them. She tapped her watch while sternly looking Tara in the eye, signaling her to hurry. She had a bad feeling in her gut, like shit was about to go down, so she wanted to get out of here and back on the road as soon as possible.

Sam sighed, knowing they were gonna take their time anyway. She wasn't blind. She saw they had something going on. The lingering touches, the charged stares, and... Her mind traveled back to a few days prior, when she had visited Tara in the hospital. Maybe she had been better off blind.

---

As the elevator door to Tara's private floor opened, she heard whiny grunts coming from her sister's hospital room. Sam's heart dropped. She rushed to open the door, mind obviously jumping to the worst-case scenario. With wide, adrenaline-filled eyes, her gaze fell on Tara. Her eyes went impossibly wider as she saw Amber, pulling her hand from under Tara's hospital gown, fingers sticky. Tara was red as can be, surely a mix of embarrassment and the previous actions she was enduring. Amber, of course, just had that signature smirk on her face, shamelessly, no, challengingly staring at Sam. The older sister had mumbled something about them being unbelievable as she closed the door again, waiting in the hallway for Amber to leave. Tara had sworn they weren't dating, but that fact only made Sam more disturbed.

---

As the duo reached the top of the stairs, Tara simply shot Sam a soft smile and a thumbs up, though, she didn't look worry-free, either. See, deep down, Tara knows Amber's secret. But everytime she tries to gather her thoughts and actually try to confirm it, she feels ridiculous. Honestly, her head cannot wrap around any of her friends having the ability to murder people in cold blood.

Though, on those addictive nights, when the both of them are alone, with Amber knuckle deep inside Tara, she sees it. Even through hooded, pleasure-blurred eyes, she still sees it. The teeth-shattering clenching of her jaw. The horrifyingly psychotic grin on her lips. The narrowing of her cold eyes, as she studies every muscle in Tara's face, taking in the sight of her edging on the border of pleasure and pain. Amber is psychotic. Yet Tara can't help coming back for more. Amber's got her wrapped around her finger. Around multiple, on a lucky night.

Tara snaps out of her thoughts at the sound of the bedroom door closing. Amber's hand slips out of hers. "So," she starts, walking towards her desk, fetching the inhaler. She holds the device between her pointer finger and thumb, toying with it, wiggling it from side to side. "Were you really in need of this?" She steps closer to Tara, who is still standing in front of the closed door. "Or did you just need an excuse to... see me once more?" She smirked as she stood right in front of the smaller girl, looking down at her.

Tara felt the squeeze of her lungs, begging to be pried open again. She also felt the increasing dampness of her underwear, clinging to her skin. "Both," she muttered out, looking up at Amber's piercing eyes with her own, desperate, doe-like ones.

Amber hummed at the pretty sight, leaning in closer, hovering over Tara's lips after she licked her own. "Open up, baby," she spoke suggestively. Fully aware of Amber's habit of spitting in her mouth, Tara complied almost immediately, sticking out her tongue slightly. It was one of those more lewd things Amber introduced her to, and she eventually grew to love, now even more than Amber did, arguably so.

Amber scoffed and shook her head softly, smirking down at the younger girl. She looked down at her hand holding the inhaler as she brought it up to Tara's lips. She sighed, teasingly. "Always such an eager slut."

Tara blushed furiously at her slip-up and rolled her eyes at Amber's misleading games, but finding the humor in it nonetheless. She quickly wrapped her lips around her inhaler, looking back in Amber's eyes. The medication filled her lungs, and she let out a satisfied sigh. She felt the heat slowly move away from her cheeks. It traveled down to her core instead when Amber muttered out a soft, yet possessive praise, tucking the inhaler in the latina's back pocket, not missing the chance of giving her ass a good squeeze.

Tara couldn't stop the little whine that escaped her lips. Her body was extra sensitive, still on-edge from the brutal attack she endured a few days ago. She wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain she felt. Then again, with Amber, she never really knew.

Amber's hand traced the line of Tara’s jaw, fingers cold and firm, forcing Tara out of her own head again. The smaller girl's big, brown eyes looked up at Amber, who's smirk deepened, as she leaned in, her breath ghosting over Tara's mouth before she closed the distance. Their kiss was slow, almost teasing. Amber’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the sharp edge of her demeanor, but her kiss held that same power, her dominance. It made Tara's knees buckle, her crutches dropping to the floor as she vulnerably steadied herself in Amber's arms, reaching up to hold her face.

Amber bent through her knees slightly, gripping at Tara's thighs, picking her up. Tara whimpered, feeling her body's injuries burn and ache as Amber's grip pulled at her skin. The pain slightly ebbed away when Amber's back met with her mattress and Tara now straddled one of her thighs. She immediately ground down, rutting her hips eagerly, sitting upright. She had one hand grabbing Amber's shirt, and the other against her mouth, biting at her nail. Finally, she had an opportunity to release some of the ever-growing tension for Amber between her thighs.

Amber loved the sight of the girl on top of her. She looked desperate and sensitive and vulnerable with her eyes rolling back into her skull. Her little, whiny, pained huffs were the cherry on top. Amber could feel the yearning between Tara's legs radiate through the multiple layers of clothing between them. It only riled her up more, angling her thigh perfectly for Tara to grind against. Her ears feasted on the pitchy, broken moans rolling off her lips. They reminded her of the ones Tara released a few nights prior, after Amber had slid the knife into her stomach for the first time, and she desperately tried to crawl away on her kitchen floor.

At that memory, Amber lifted up Tara's shirt, biting her lip at the sight of the stitches on her stomach, and the soft abs rippling underneath them as the latina continuously rutted her hips against Amber's thigh. She traced the forming scar tissue with her fingertip, admiring her work.

Tara frowned at the feeling, snapping out of her blissful state. Suddenly, the gut-wrenching reality of the situation dawned on her again. Killer on the loose. Friends dying. Organs ripping. Blood pooling. Stitches pulling. Grinding on her number one suspect's thigh.

She halted her movements, her eyes opening, immediately darting to that familiar, psychotic smirk aimed at her.

"You've always looked pretty, covered in my marks."

[lebenspurpur]

AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.

Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.

His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.

Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.

Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.

His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.

"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.

On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.

Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.

You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.

"Alright. I won't."

You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.

His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?

The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.

You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.

You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.

Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.

"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.

"I'll join you if you do."

One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.

"Alright."

You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.

You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.

Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.

"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.

Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.

Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.

You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.

Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"

Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.

Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.

The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.

Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.

"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.

"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"

He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.

It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.

Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.

Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.

Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.

First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.

Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.

Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.

"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"

You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.

"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.

Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.

"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."

Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.

"You're lucky I love you."

Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.

You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.

Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.

His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.

You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.

Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.

The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.

[yuujism]

Sun and Night. (gojo satoru x reader)

Chapter 3: Greed

← chapter 2 | chapter 4 →

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x gn!reader ; mentions of getou suguru

| WARNINGS: a few spoilers but nothing too important right now, nsfw, explicit/suggestive language, kinda rough sex, toxic behaviour, unprotected sex (be safe and pee after yk aha), gender neutral reader, toxic gojo satoru, reader and gojo are down bad, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: idk lol i’ll count later

| A/N: so chapter 3 uhh didn’t think i would reach this far but yea !! i think you kinda know where this is going, a lot of toxicity and satoru suffering of a possible one sided love?? who knows !! anyway i tried not to make this chapter way too explicit since it’s not the goal of the series, just wanted to add a spicy chapter !! anyway i hope you enjoy and tell me what you think <3 i’ll post it on ao3 too!!

summary;

You and Satoru were in love.

You were both so deeply in love, just not with each other.

Where you and Satoru found comfort in each other after the accident happened.

Advantageous.

Convenient.

Superficial.

Selfish.

That’s how your relationship with Satoru could be described since that night after the heated argument you both had regarding the feelings towards Getou Suguru.

Nothing really changed.

You both still ignored each other in the hallways of the school, walking past each other as if you weren’t a tangled mess of limbs the night before, coming undone in the arms of the other. There was no point in discussing the boundaries and consequences of your actions, not after implicitly admitting what you wanted from each other:

A fantasy.

Was it correct to use each other in hopes to feel closer to Suguru? No, it wasn’t. And, honestly, it didn’t matter. Not for you and certainly not for Satoru. But how could you blame him? How could he blame you? You found the necessary comfort in each other’s touch disguised as the ghost of a memory that was never going to come back. In the end, however, you sunk into the illusion and believed. You wanted to believe.

“Ah, yes...” You moaned, eyes closed as you threw your head back against the mattress due to the pleasant sensation of lips brushing against the sweet spot of your neck. The soft locks of hair between your fingers were the only factor that held you back from letting out another name.

You couldn’t bring yourself to call out for him even if your mind was filled with pictures of his features.

The wet and messy kisses threw you into a spiral of thoughts that you connected to the late sorcerer, even if they created a contrast to the sensation of his soft touch in your body whenever he was with you. You still tried and tried. You tried to keep your eyes closed, almost as if avoiding the deep blue eyes in front of you in fear of waking up from the reverie. You tried to enjoy and lose yourself in pleasure. You tried to not think of Satoru. Anything but him.

Long fingers entered your core, breath hitching in your throat as sharp teeth sunk in the soft exposed flesh of your shoulder. God, how you came to love the feeling of his mouth on your body, marking you only for you and him to see. The man on top of you must’ve felt your insides clenching around his digits, and you felt a smirk forming against your skin.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice came out as a groan next to your ear, sending shivers all through your body as fingers curled inside you, reaching that sweet, sweet spot that made you whine pathetically. The grip on his hair tightening, pride filling your stomach for a brief second when a deep moan erupted from his throat; he loved having his hair pulled.

As always, you didn’t answer his question. There was no need for any of that. After all, he wasn’t really asking you.

Satoru was also deep within his daydream, thinking about long black hair and sly eyes that scrutinised him mockingly. The skin underneath him caressing his bare body was just like he remembered: cold yet warm with a softness to it and, most importantly, familiar. How he missed this.

How he missed him.

The feeling of his throbbing, leaking cock was becoming too much quickly, hips involuntary moving to grind against the mattress as another grunt left his throat. Satoru needed release, soft inner walls clenching around his fingers eagerly, asking for more and more. Satoru smirked once again. Greedy. It was all so greedy.

“God, you’re always so desperate.” Once again, teeth sunk into your skin, this time marking the side of your neck as you moaned louder this time. That was going to leave a mark, but your mind was so fogged with desire you didn’t care anymore as your hands blindly grabbed the sides of Satoru’s face, pulling him towards your own.

All for him.

Your wet lips crashing against Satoru’s in a feral and hungry kiss made him open his eyes for a moment, ice blue irises studying your face as his daydream started to distortion right in that moment before he could even stop it.

The long strands of black hair were suddenly morphing into locks that resembled your own, the scent of your shampoo invading his nostrils as his heart started to pick up the pace against his chest. The cold touch of your hands against his warm skin made every hair in his body stand, the memory of that pale familiar skin long forgotten. And, fuck, the way your legs wrapped around his waist as Satoru felt your insides throb around his fingers made his cock jump in excitement.

Satoru shut his eyes again, tightly. God, not again.

With a low growl, Satoru pulled away quickly, a strand of saliva connecting you both still as his fingers left your insides with an explicit squelching noise. Before you could even complain to be filled again, you were being manhandled into turning your whole body around, laying on your stomach. A surprised gasp escaped your mouth as rough, warm hands digged into the soft flesh of your hips, slightly lifting them up for a better angle.

It wasn’t until the hot tip of his cock leaking with pre-cum teased your entrance that you opened your eyes, turning your head to see Satoru above your shoulder. Your mouth fell agape in the ghost of a wanton whine when blue fiery eyes connected with yours, filled with passion and a hint of something you couldn’t describe as nothing but a warning.

Don’t look at me. Please, don’t look at me.

“Fuck!” you couldn’t hold back the high-pitched moan that came out of your mouth from the deepest part of your chest as Satoru finally entered you, head falling back to the mattress and breaking the almost too intimate moment. The hot sting of being stretched open by his large cock was your favourite sensation and he knew it. He was considerate of your pleasure above his own.

Satoru bottomed out quickly, a whiny gasp coming to your ears as an indication he was feeling the same as you. Pleasure. Pure bliss.

Nails digged deepper into the flesh of your ass as Satoru’s hips didn’t hesitate in pounding into your core hardly, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the embarrassing noise of wetness filling the room that slowly started to smell like both of you.

“You always feel so good, shit” Satoru groaned as his balls smacked against your ass, the feeling of his cock rubbing your inner walls as his tip kissed that sweet spot over and over again sending you into a drooling mess you couldn’t even process the way his words felt different this time.

But Satoru could. And he knew he was getting into dangerous territory.

You tried to gather the strength to hold yourself up with shaky arms, completely failing due to the strength of Satoru’s thrusts abusing your messy tightness. However, you tried to turn your head once again. For some reason, just for this one time, you wanted to see his expression. You wanted to see if he was as much of a mess as you were. To see the great Gojo Satoru slowly losing himself into pleasure just for the sake of it.

But he didn’t let you. A large hand pressed against the side of your head, pushing you against the mattress hardly as his thrusts became more erratic and rough. Your loud moans and sobs of pleasure were muffled by his hand and the mattress, trying your best not to let the tears run down your face as your eyes rolled back. But it was too late.

“Oh, you crying?” A mocking chuckle accompanied the way his thrusts came to a stop, harshly hitting your deepest bundle of nerves inside you as he leaned down to your ear, hips slowly circling as you mumbled non-sense. “Keep crying, baby. I’m the only one who is allowed to make you cry.”

You were too lost in the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you again you didn’t even bother to question his words. Words that didn’t mean the same anymore, at least to Satoru.

Everything was quick and carnal. One moment you were sobbing loudly, mumbling small ‘I’m cumming’’s as Satoru kept his intense pace while watching you underneath him, your expressions being engraved into his mind. The next moment you were coming undone with the feeling of Satoru filling you up to the brim, his steamy seed drowning your insides until it was leaking down your thighs and into the silky sheets, cock still throbbing inside you as you both came down from you highs.

You weren’t sure who got tired of waiting first. Wether it was Satoru who slowly pulled out with a groan, or you who didn’t even have the strength to look at him anymore, not even caring about the cum oozing out of you. You were just too sleepy, too tired, you didn’t want to move.

“Tired...” you whispered, an indicator of the end of this session. Simple and direct, just like it should be. Moving around, you tried your best to get in a good position as you threw the covers over yo it body, not minding the other presence in the room that would soon walk out.

Your eyes fluttered shut with the image of Suguru calling out your name, a sweet smile on his face as you fell into a deep sleep.

However, Satoru was drowning in his own head, sitting on the edge of the bed as he stared at the nothingness of the ground under his feet. Something didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t the fact he was thinking about Suguru just like in the beginning of whatever this was, no.

This time, he fully thought of you.

Your moans, your touch, your skin heating up against him, the feeling of you clenching down on him and your eyes locking with his for a brief moment while you both came. Everything was you. You, you, you. You were present the whole time. God, he had to refrain himself from letting the sound of your name slip past his lips, a knot stuck in his throat as a result.

But you were just invading his mind. Slowly but firmly. Satoru thought of you a lot the past few days, fighting the urge of walking up to you and kissing you right there and then in the hallways of the school. He didn’t care anymore. He wanted you. He needed you.

Greedy.

Satoru was becoming way too greedy.

He wanted more of you. He wanted you to think of him as much as he thought of you. The faint memory of his best friend started to blur out as the nights next to you passed, welcoming your pretty eyes that resembled the same gaze in his teen years. You always knew what he was feeling, even if he didn’t say it. And he hated you for that the same way he hated him.

And tonight, while he was pounding into you harshly as his eyes never left your face contorted with extasis, Satoru realised he reached a point of no return. A crooked smile creeped up his face, the vague breeze of the room hitting his skin as he turned to see your alreasy sleeping figure. Oh, how he yearned for you.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter if you kept thinking about long silky black hair and the ghost of soft touches while you were with him. Satoru was going to make you forget him just like you made him think of nothing but you. He was going to deposit all his spare adoration on you until you suffocated, a pain so sweet you would be asking for more and more. You wouldn’t have to think of a memory again because, at the end, you would have him and only him.

Satoru sighed dreamily at that though, hand reaching your cheek in the softest of caresses you’ve ever exchanged between the other.

Too greedy.

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Re: "/post/667621850565804032/how-long-do-you-think-each-shishigumi-member-could" It has to do with no nutting. I didn't intend anything serious, but rather the whole "I'm so pent up! Somebody help me out here!"-kind of thing. Played for laughs, you know? Maybe as a bonus, it's a contest the lions set up for one another. (Shishigumi tries out being monks maybe? The manor becomes a monastery?)

Monastery? RIP. Let's go with a bet of some sort?

Long so readmore

Biggest babies about not having sex

Free - Someone help the rest of the Shishigumi. Pent up Free is crabby and short tempered. He's more prone to violence. He's also very vocal and whiny.

Dolph - While a little older, and not as obviously horny as Free, Dolph would also get grumpy from not having sex. He indulges more in silvervine to cope

Miguel - He's very physical, and not being intimate with someone for a while is trying. He works out more, and somehow gets stronger. It kind of freaks the other lions out. How does one get that buff?

Agata - Actually can contain himself by distracting himself with video games and other hobbies, but he does get a little more sensitive and takes things more personally

Ibuki - He doesn't have sex often, so doesn't miss it as much as some of the other lions. When he does go without for a long time, he gets more serious and tolerates less bullshit. He and Free get into spats much more often.

Sabu - Is pretty okay, but growls and is much more moody. Lots of cold shoulders and silence. He's also prone to growling when he gets upset.

Dope - Can tolerate it okay. It's more mind over matter, but he does break. He becomes disorganized and easily distracted.

Jinma - Is better about it. He's calm, collected, and just not usually into having a lot of sex to begin with.

Hino - Hino is exhausted all the time, not having sex is easy. He doesn't normally have the energy for it anyway. When he does get pent up, his insomnia is worse and he's very snappy.

The Bet

Listed by who looses first

Sabu - Doesn't see the need for a bet, and doesn't participate. He has sex that same day out of spite. He does enjoy watching the suffering of his friends though.

Free - Lasts a week. He tried his best, but he just couldn't do it. Gold star, participation trophy

Miguel - Lasts two and a half weeks. He was caught up by someone attractive in tight work out gear.

Hino - Uses it to help him sleep after one to many nights of being unable to. Probably last 3-4 weeks

Dope - Gets pent up, decides the bet is stupid, and finds someone

Jinma - Breaks shortly after Dope

Agata - Got lured in by someone attractive when Free took him to a bar.

Dolph - Breaks after a month and a half. He beat Agata, so why keep punishing himself?

Ibuki - Wins, but it's due to overworking and always being exhausted from business. Somehow, despite winning, he still gets made fun of.

[harryhandstan]

so..I hate that this is so late but happy to finally have this done and be posting it for y’all! hope you enjoy! thank you to my betas @tbslenthusiast, @serendipitystyles, and @summertimestyles​ you’re all angels!! also sham was so kind to help me create a playlist for this fic which you can find here!

this is for @taintedwonder​‘s Styles Valentine’s Day fic challenge and most of the photos from the header were my inspo along with prompts 3. Can you just hold my hand? and 6. Let’s run away together.

as always any likes, rbs, replies, and feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

writing tag | masterlist

You can read his face before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just joins you where you sit on the bed, an arm around your waist to urge you closer to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, as if that will soothe the sting of what he’s about to say. He buries his face into your neck before he speaks.

“Only for a little while, angel.”

You don’t respond by returning the kiss like you normally would, narrowing your eyes down to where he’s hiding his face, “How long is a ‘little while’?” 

“You could always come with me, y’know..” 

He’s avoiding the answer and he knows it, eyes darting up only briefly to look at your face. 

“How long, Harry?”

He’s fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt now, focusing on the loose thread hanging instead.

You nudge him lightly, pulling his attention back up to you, “Just say it! How long?”

He sucks in a big breath before releasing it and then the words come out in a rush, “A few weeks, possibly a month.”

You have to take your own deep breath before asking, “When do you have to leave?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Promise.”

“My flight’s on the 14th.”

“February 14th? As in we don’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“M’so sorry, love, I really thought we were gonna get to spend the day together.” 

He’s pulled back from where he was hiding his face, studying yours now. It hurts him to see the disappointment written there; the pinch in your brow, the downturned corners of your mouth, the way your eyes have temporarily lost their shine and fallen misty.

“Ya really could come with me, y’know. Take a bit of time off, would do you some good to take a break.”

He knows better, knows it’s just a fantasy that you would ever be able to get that much time off from work to be able to travel with him.

“C’mon, love, let’s run away together.”

The way he’s looking at you know, it really wouldn’t take much more convincing to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“What am I gonna do when I’m cold and don’t have you as my personal heater to help me get warm?”

“S’why I left you my pillow to snuggle with. There’s a ton of extra blankets too, use as many of those as ya need.”

How could you explain that no amount of warmth from any blanket would ever compare to his? A blanket wasn’t capable of softly brushing your hair back from your face or tenderly pressing it’s lips to yours as you drift off to sleep. You open your mouth to try to illustrate such facts, but you close your mouth just as quick. You aren’t trying to be difficult or clingy, and you don’t want your last bit of time together to be filled with your complaints.

That thought only lasts for a moment, your anxiety building with each mile closer to the airport, “Well what do I do when your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore?”

“I’ll try to be back before that happens, deal? Besides, you’ve got a whole drawer of my t-shirts to sleep in too. They all smell like me, right?”

“They do, but, Harry..what if..”

“Shh, hey, we’ve been through this before, right? S’gonna be hard for me to be away from you too, but I promise we’ll be alright. You can call me anytime you’re missin’ me, remember?”

His voice is that of someone trying to pacify a small child just before a tantrum, and you feel as though you’re being whiny and unreasonable. Missing him when he was away was almost unbearable though; everything seemed heavy and dimmer and you know it would feel like an eternity before you were together again. 

“Promise we’ll make up today the second I come home. You plan the whole day and just tell me when and where to show up, okay?’

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t matter so much to you. You and Harry made it a point throughout your days spent together to express your love to one another whenever you could, so today was really just..another day to spend together. So it’s missing him that has tears forming in your eyes again, just as they had the night before.

“Can you just hold my hand? Until..” You don’t finish the sentence, letting your voice trail off so he won’t hear it break.

“‘Course I can, baby.” He offers his hand, never taking his eyes off the road even as he lifts your hand to his mouth to place a kiss to the back of it.

Though you know he would never admit to it, you swear you feel the speed of the car slow just the tiniest bit, Harry wanting to add as much to your limited time together as he can.

Despite it still being light outside, coming home to the space you normally share together alone makes you want to do nothing but crawl right back in bed. It’s mid-afternoon and with Harry not home to motivate you to do something more productive, that’s exactly what you aim to do.

After dropping your purse and keys near the door and double checking the locks, you’re startled by the sight of a bouquet of bright pink roses adorning your dining room table. They definitely weren’t there when you left, and you pluck the small card nestled between the flowers with your name scrawled across the front. It’s Harry’s almost illegible handwriting and the sight of it makes your heart soar with excitement before you flip it open to read the message. 

It’s simple and small, more of his writing scratched across the cream colored paper in bold, black ink. Love, love, love, H. There’s a badly drawn heart underneath the note, and that makes you giggle out loud, filling the silence. If Harry were here, he’d have some cheeky comment about how adorable your laughter is, how he loved the sound of it.

“Don’t want you moping around the whole time m’gone, yeah? Promise me y’ll do more than just sulk around the place until I get back?” This reminder was given just before he’d had to rush off to catch his plane, giving you no time to offer him much more than a quick peck and a sad smile as an agreement. 

So technically what you plan to do would not be considered breaking a promise, just..catching up on the sleep you would’ve gotten if you hadn't had to wake up so early to ride with Harry to the airport. Normally that was something you would decline to do, preferring to sleep in, which Harry usually was fine with; but this time he had insisted on you accompanying him on his drive, wanting to get as much time with you on this day as he could. 

Just as you're about to venture down the hallway to the bedroom, you spot another item you’re sure hadn’t been on your coffee table earlier that morning when you’d left. It’s a medium sized box, messily wrapped with red paper and tied with purple ribbon and a bow. It’s quite heavy when you lift it, so you sit on the nearby couch to avoid dropping it. You waste no time tearing the paper away, lifting the lid to reveal a candle surrounded by tissue paper. 

There’s a pack of two lighters wedged next to the candle, and you curiously pull it from the box first to see more of Harry’s handwriting on a red sticky note. 

Baby you light up my world like nobody else...

That pulls another laugh from you, this one is bigger and echoes through the dimly lit space. The candle itself is a scent he knows you love, and you bring it closer to your face and inhale deeply. The smell of it helps ease even more of the unease and sadness of him being gone. You dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time and try to calculate whether his plane has landed and he would be able to answer a call from you. 

You ultimately decide to nap first and give him a chance to get settled. He would most likely be calling you later anyway, missing you just as much as you missed him and wanting to hear your voice. You could thank him then for the flowers, candle, and the laugh. So you continue your journey to the bedroom, slipping out of your clothes and sliding open the drawer of Harry’s t-shirts. He’s right, they do all smell like him and you run your fingers along the soft fabrics before selecting one. 

It’s plain white, one of his undershirts normally tucked beneath his expensive button ups and ruffles, but today it’s perfect and comforting attire to doze off in. It’s loose and just long enough on you that you don’t feel the need to put on a pair of your pj shorts with it, The bed is still messy from the morning, and you swear you can still see the outline of where Harry’s body normally tucks next to you on his side. You pull the blanket back and crawl into your usual spot, but it doesn’t feel right; it’s too empty and quiet without Harry. 

You grab his pillow from his side and try your best to replicate the way you would curl yourself around him if he was here. It takes a bit of time to adjust, but eventually you give up and just try to relax into the mattress as much as possible, covering your head slightly with the blanket to surround yourself with warmth.

You peek through the space uncovered to the alarm clock on the bedside table on Harry’s side, the bright red letters read 12:32 p.m. and you let out a deep sigh before drifting off to sleep. If you weren’t so tired, the thought that crosses your mind might just make you laugh again.

Alone in bed in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day. What a shame. 

You wake with a start, bolting upwards at the sound of your phone ringing loudly from somewhere near the bed. You don’t even bother to open your eyes to see who it is, just following the motions to answer and plop back down onto your spot as you let out an almost breathless and groggy “hello?”

“Not missin’ me too much, I see, took you a whole minute to answer,'' You know he’s joking by the hint of amusement in his voice and relief floods through your chest before any other feeling at the idea of him making it safely to his destination, “You alright, love? Sound a bit outta breath. Having some fun in our bed without me?”

“I..no, I was napping, promise, your call just scared me awake..how did you know I’m in bed?”

“I’m only teasing. Just a guess, figured you’d find your way back to the bed not long after you got home.”

“Found the flowers and the candle. Your note on the lighters made me laugh, thank you. How’d you do that though? They weren’t there when we left for the airport and you didn’t come back in.”

“Had one of my assistants drop the flowers off, and the candle’s been stashed in the closet for a week so she set it out for me while she was there. Wish I could’ve been there to see your face and hear that laugh,” He giggles at the thought of it, “S’that all you found? The flowers and the candle? I assume you found the one in the bathroom too, right?”

You’re more alert now, sitting up again to try to process what he’s saying more easily, “What do you mean? There’s more? The bathroom?”

“A few more, yeah. Hid here and there for you to find.”

“You left me a scavenger hunt? Do I at least get clues to help me find them all?”

“I’ve just given you one, haven’t I? Might be persuaded to give you a few more later.”

You’re up off the bed now, making your way to the bathroom where another surprise awaits. You hesitate for only a moment, stopping just as you reach the door.

“What’s in the bathroom? More flowers? One of those big, fluffy teddy bears?”

“M’not gonna tell you! You gotta go in to find out!”

Flipping on the light switch has you gasping at what you see. A heart, entirely made from more red sticky notes, each one embellished with reminders of his love for you. You stumble over words, trying to form a coherent response.

He senses your shock even through the phone and graciously gives you a moment before asking, “S’the heart all wonky or does it look nice? Told them to make it as straight as possible.”

“H..it’s beautiful! How did you have time to write all these before you left?”

“Finished up most of them last night after you fell asleep. They came to me a lot easier with my muse snoring next to me.” 

You truly don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had someone be so bright and loud with their love for you and just this simple expression makes you feel so incredibly special and loved.

You know that emotion is flowing through the phone when he speaks again, softer and lower, “Y’sure you won’t let me fly you out here to be with me?”

There’s the sound of another voice before Harry barks out another laugh, “Jeff says m’proper miserable without you. He said he’d pay you whatever your salary would be for the next month just to have you here.”

“Tempting, but..” Harry knows how much you love your job and how such a long absence would jeopardize the career you’ve built, so you know he probably won’t mention it again.

“Technically it was gonna be part of my present for you, so..I’ll give you another clue.”

“How very generous of you, H. Will this one make me cry too?”

“Maybe. Knowing you, probably,” You roll your eyes but listen for further instructions, “Just remember I had to rush and there’s still a few I didn’t get to add but, go get your laptop.”

“What’d you do to my laptop?”

“Would ya just go get it? C’mon I’ve gotta hang up soon and I wanna hear your reaction before I hafta go.” 

“Alright, I got it. What now?”

“Go to your music library.” He gives you a moment to navigate through your programs, “Should be a playlist there with your name on it, lovie. Wait, are you already crying?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You wipe at your eyes with the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing as you try to read over the list of songs, “This is so sweet! The flowers, the candle, the heart and now this. Harry..I didn’t get you anything and you did all this for me. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you more,” You can just picture the smug smile on his face, pleased that he’s done a good job of surprising you, “You can make it up to me later.” 

“Don’t push your luck there, H. You’ve just been forgiven, I still have time to change my mind, you know.” 

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” You hear what you assume to be Jeff’s voice again in the background, “I gotta go, babe. I’ll try to call again later, alright?”

“Wait! I don’t get any more clues? Can you at least tell me how many more are left?”

“S’no fun for me if I give away all my secrets now, is it?”

It’s only a day later when you find yourself in the kitchen, uncertain about what to make for dinner, eyes scanning over the ingredients in your pantry. Your laptop sits on the counter nearby, and you hum along to My Girl playing through the speakers, a song selected for you by Harry for the playlist he recently made for you.

You’re about to give up and heat up your leftovers from the Italian take-out you had treated yourself to the night before, when you spot the pack of Haribo gummy bears wedged in the corner. You almost have to stand on your tip-toes to reach it, and when you run your hand along the shelf you find another bag of sweets not far from the gummy bears. You smile down at the two bags, his favorite candy and yours sitting side by side.

There’s another of Harry’s red sticky notes on the pack of gummy bears: Being away from you is unBEARable. More of his cheesy jokes you’re sure he thought of himself. Your candy is void of any words, just another messily drawn heart, this time with your name in the middle. 

You decide to FaceTime him this time, wanting to see his face. It only takes 3 rings for him to answer, a tender “Hi, baby.” falling from his lips. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but you can still see him well enough to notice his hair is damp. His curls are more pronounced than usual, which was a sign he’d been too tired to much more than probably run his fingers through after his shower.

“Found another of your surprises.” You hold the candy up for him to see and he smiles.

“Better save me some of those Haribo, and not just all the colors ya don’t like either.”

You tear open the bag, sticking your tongue out at him before popping a few into your mouth, “I might, if you tell me where all the other surprises are.”

You can see him temporarily consider it, biting his bottom lip and meeting your gaze before he shakes his head, “Nah. I will tell you there’s only one more though..well, depends on how you look at it, but to me they only count as one.”

“They?”

He mimics locking his lips, and you decide to drop it for now, knowing you would most likely have to trick or beg him to tell you later. You’d let him think he won. For now.

You roll the top of the bag of candy down, opening the cabinet to tuck them back into the same corner you found them in. They just didn’t taste the same without him there to enjoy them with you. Plus you still had a still had leftover garlic knots and mushroom ravioli you planned to dig into later.

“S’that the playlist I made for you? Sounds like it.”

The song has changed to At Last, Etta James’ voice filling the small kitchen, “Yeah. I love this song.”

“Me too. Reminds me of you now..my love,” You sway a bit to the music before stopping, leaning forward to where your phone is propped on the counter, “Wish I was there t’dance with you.”

You try your best to hold back your emotions of missing him, but you imagine how he would rest his hands on your hips if was here. How he would spin you to face him and move his hands to rest on your back while he led you around in a slow circle across the floor. It wasn’t just his hands you longed for, it was the way he would bend to your ear to sing along to whatever song you were dancing to, especially one like this he knew you loved. You missed his voice in person, the way it would surround you with a comfort and peace you’d never be able to replicate with anything else. 

No matter what you do you can’t stop your thoughts from trailing to how when the song was over, he would lift you to sit on the counter and kiss your forehead. You’re wearing one of his hoodies tonight, and you pull the sleeve down over your hands to use to try to quickly wipe away any tears before he sees them. Once you feel you’ve reined in your emotions to the best of your abilities, you clear your throat before speaking again.

“I miss you, H.”

“I miss you too, angel.”

The music has changed again, Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys lifting the mood enough you don’t feel so heavy and overwhelming with your yearning for him. You take a deep breath, planning to ask him about his day, but before you have a chance he says, “Go to your bedside table. The top drawer.”

“What?”

“M’tryin’ to tell you where your last surprise is. Go to our bedroom and look in the drawer. I’ll wait.”

You flash him a smile before turning to make your way out of the kitchen, through your living room and down the hall to your bedroom. It takes a bit of searching before you uncover a stack of bright, pastel colored envelopes tied together with the same purple ribbon as the candle from the day before. You work quickly to untie the knot and turn the lamp on so you can read the front of each one. There’s 4 total; open when you need a laugh, open when you miss my hugs, open when you need a reminder of my love, open when you miss me.

You tear into the final one immediately, setting the others aside for later. It’s not very long, the perfect length to boost your spirit even further. Just the thought of him taking time to sit down and write his expression of love for you makes you grin, and has that same feeling of being loved spreading through you as it did the previous day when you saw the heart on the bathroom mirror.

You had almost forgotten leaving him on hold in the kitchen until you hear, even from 3 rooms away, the sound of him singing along to whatever song is playing now. You close your eyes, picturing for a moment that it’s a typical night when he’s home, darting around the kitchen while he makes dinner or puts dishes away.  

You make your way back through the house to him, envelope in hand. Each one had been a different color so the second he sees which one you have his eyes brighten, his smile growing bigger the closer you get.

“Of course you opened that one first. Did y’like it?”

You shake your head no, breaking into a laugh when you see the look of disappointment on his face, “I loved it. Very charming of you to do all this just for me, H.”

“Yeah? I did a good job surprising you then?”

You roll your eyes. This man and his need for praise was too much, but he was yours, and you were his and you would do anything to assure him that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

“You did an amazing job, really, Harry. I never expected you to be able to do so much so last minute.”

His mouth drops open in mock dismay, looking down and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you would ever doubt me!”

You don’t say anything, just shake your own head at his teasing, sharing a look of adoration before you look away.

“Hey, did I leave my lip balm there? The coconut kind I use before bed? Thought I had it in my duffel but I couldn’t find it when I got here.” 

“Yep. I used it earlier when I got out of the shower. Want me to send it to you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to, but..you could bring it to me in person if you wanted.” 

“I would if I could, Harry.”

The tone of a new text from your phone startles you, and you try to suppress your elation as best you can at who it’s from. It’s Jeff, confirming the time of your flight he’d helped you schedule for the following day. Harry knows you too well, would instantly be able to read your face and be suspicious of what you were up to. You step away from his line of sight to let the thrill run through you, to let it fully wash over you so he wouldn’t see. You return as quickly as you can, brushing it off as if you’d just gotten a text from your boss or a friend. He was oblivious, none the wiser at what you were planning.

It was your turn to surprise him. 

[notgalaxii]

May I pls ask for a headcanon of when the brothers or undateables are sick and MC looks after them pls

I wroteee guys! Be proud of me! Oh and I'm also super kinda sorta upset because my new manager wants me in at like 5:30am - 1:30pm?? And that's tiring. Oh welllll, thats how it beeee.

Another thing! I kind of wrote a self-indulgent Satan smut but I didn't know if I wanted to post self-indulgent NSFW cause I feel like a HOOEEE so if you're reading this, you should leave a reply letting me know what you think~

Pride

Bold of you to assume Lucifer will willingly stay put in bed to be taken care of

He puts up one of the biggest fights

"MC, I have paperwork to do."

"MC, Lord Diavolo requested me for a meeting."

"Calm your shit, Luci. You know Diavolo would give you the devildoms entire supply of tissues and medicine if he knew you were sick."

After he gets over his fit of needing to do anything and everything, he's quite easy to take care of

Will tell you exactly what he wants, needs, how much it is, and how to get it

Lucifer would probably be more of a medicine person than soup or tea

Definitely gets very fever high and it'll slowly chip at his wall

"Thank you for bringing me my meals, MC. It means so much to me that you'd go out of your way to take care of me. I appreciate you every second of every day."

Sick Lucifer likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, it'll lull him to sleep

Definitely wouldn't mind if you crawled next to him in bed and fell asleep to him, but I feel like if you do it a few times, fever high Luci will get pretty clingy.

"Why didn't you stay with me longer last night, MC? You left me cold."

Greed

You thought Mammon was already clingy?

Sick Mammon is the textbook definition of clingy

And it's even worse because he feels too fucking miserable to put up a fight with his tsundere self so all of his neediness is right there in the open

"MCCCCC Where ya goin!?!? I wasn't done with you yet! The Great Mammon wants to be fed soup."

Whiny. Very whiny. Oh my god so whiny.

"Why do I feel like my head is floatin' away from my body, huh? It's all foggy up here! Make it stooop"

And if you take a few seconds too long to say something,

"Oi! Are ya listenin' to me!? Pay attention, human!"

But will definitely make it up because sick Mammon is ✨lovey✨ Mammon

"I love you, human. Don't forget that, 'kay? I wouldn't let any other dumb little human take care of me like this. I feel like I can trust you."

Sicky Mammon loves soup. He wants the soup to be fed to him every time too.

Will aggressively feed it to himself if you deny him

"Dummy human, don't know what ya missin' out on, yanno!"

Absolutely melts under a n y touch that you give him

Likes it when you rub his chest a lot, it's very soothing

And as per usual, absolutely loves his hair being played with

An ideal night for sick Mammon would be cuddled up to his human with their hand in hair, watching movies and having soup fed to him until he falls asleep

He's a baby, protect him. Please.

Envy

Leviathan is very confused about why you're trying so hard to take care of him

He's holed up in his room all day anyway, what's the difference when he's sick? He can take care of himself!

But oh god when you bring him food and pets, he can't deny how loved it makes him feel

Anime Marathons! Anime Marathons!

Adores being all wrapped up in the blankets with you watching his favorite shows to make him feel better.

Brush his hair out of his face to check his fever. Do it. It'll break him.

Kiss him on the forehead afterwards if you really r e a l l y want to break him

Levi wouldn't care too much what you bring him, but he would like it to be hot to sooth his throat

He can't yell at his game with a sore throat.

Rub his chest and shoulders, it makes him feel like a big boy

Play with his hair that's usually in his face

Wrath

Angy boy is angy

Doesn't get why you're trying to take care of him, he's a big boy

At first he's a little annoyed by the gestures. Satan likes to do things for himself, he wants to feel capable.

If you're romantically involved with him though, he'll be nicer about it

"I don't know why you're bringing me my meals, kitten. I can still walk. Its just a small cold" proceeds to fall into a sneezing fit

When he's in his demon form, his tail sticks straight up when he sneezes-

Y'all gonna make me write an entire headcanon about how they sneeze I fucking swear.

Back on topic, Satan would like to have a book read to him while he's sick. Sometimes his vision gets a lil foggy and his head gets cloudy

Let him lay his head on your lap by the fire place. Run your hands through his hair and read him a novel.

After his initial fit of "fuck you i'm a big boy," he was by far the easiest to take care of

Any time you tell him to take a medicine, eat something, drink something, blow his nose, or get some rest he listens

Well now that he knows you have best intent in mind

And deep deep deep down in his aggressive heart, he kind of enjoys being bossed around by you

Lust

Asmodeus would be almost Mammon levels of whiny

"MC, am I still beautiful even though my nose is runny?"

"MC, I feel too heavy to walk to the bathroom and do my skincare. Can you do it?"

"MMMCCCCC~ come give me cuddles"

"MC! Feed me my medicine~"

On that note, Asmo doesn't care what you bring him as long as you feed it to him

He'll make it sensual as hell too

Will still try to kiss you all the time if you're okay with it

And you bet he'd be like, "You know what would make me feel better?" And definitely try to get in your pants.

Touch him literally anywhere. He won't care if its his face, dick, or left pinky toe. Just give him your love

Cuddle sessions will be a lot more loving.

Don't get me wrong, Asmo cuddle sessions are already very loving and sensual, but when he's siiiick

He's so so so SO soft

Professes his love for you at least once a day

Wants gentle kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and nose

Honestly, Asmo overall just wants to be held, loved, and taken good care of

You wouldn't be allowed to sleep in your room anymore. He wants your attention and care at all times.

Gluttony

How did you even get sick!?

You're h u g e man, and an athlete, you think you'd have more of a tolerance?????

Okay so on the slim chance that Beelzebub is sick

He is sO GOOD about letting you take care of him

You want him to take this medicine when the alarm rings? He'll down it before dismissing it!

You want him to drink this tea you gave him? It's delicious, MC~

Eat the soup? S a y l e s s

No Beel- you have to drink it slowly or else it won't help as much

Okay so he'll struggle a little bit on that part but he will do his best because he loves you and wants to make you proud.

Beelzebub would like it if during your sick cuddles, you laid on top of him while he had his arms around you

You take so much care of him, he wants to feel like he's caring for you too

Fever High Beel is chatty, honestly when you know Beel personally hes chatty anyways but he's worse under a sick spell

Will ask you literally every philosophical question that settles in his brain for at least a second

Some of them are straight up weird though man

"Why is there a D in fridge but not refrigerator?" Is one he has asked m u l t i p l e times.

Beel is a good puppy 💕

Sloth

Like his twin, Belphie is veryyyy easy to take care of when he's sick

He doesn't... Do much so it's not like he's gonna hop out of bed and run away from the medicine

Just opens his mouth with a little "ahh~" sound and drinks or eats whatever you shove in his face

He's moody sick though

Well he's always a little moody but when he's sick he's probably a grumpy ass boy

"Ehh, MC why am I sick again? All I smell is snot" he would huff

Likes to pick at your brain a little bit when he's sick

Just really loves listening to you talk all the time and it keeps him occupied enough when he feels like shit and you're there to go on the cute little rambles he loves

Being groggy helps him sleep better, so expect this beautiful little cowboy to pull you in for some more naps with him~

[fernisworm]

Lycan!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Headcanons (Pt3)

[an;

I haven’t posted in a while so I thought I’d upload this since it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while LMAO

(PSA: I touch on some of these HC’s in previous posts)

some more Lycan!Karl brainrot for the soul amirite 😎😎

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🎕 You can find Pt 1 here! (& Pt 2 here!)

❀ Characters: Lycan!Karl Heisenberg x (Gender Neutral!) Reader

❀ Warnings: N/A

✿ You can find all my stories here!

✿ My requests guide is here! (And you can place a request here!)

-

🌟 Karl can actually understand the lycans almost perfectly, and funnily enough, they seem to understand basic English too

🌟 “ *assorted lycan growling and barking* “

🌟 “What? No, you aren’t all sleeping in the factory! I don’t care how cold it is outside, fur-for-brains!”

🌟 anyway, they all slept in the factory 

🌟 Karl actually regards most of the lycans in a familial way and likes to take care of them in any small way he can

🌟 He even went as far as to reinforce the Stronghold for them to keep it warmer in the winter 

🌟 While the lycans have names, they aren’t human names

🌟 It’s kind of hard to translate “grrrgrg BARK BARK BARK grgrgrgrg AWOOOO” into English

🌟 So instead Karl has various nicknames for the lycans, such as; fur-face, fur-for-brains, fur-freaks, etc. (Just to highlight the extent of his creativity)

🌟 You actually get along quite well with the lycans 

🌟 Heisenberg is very protective of you, however

🌟 He doesn’t mind you interacting with the lycans but is always sure to keep a watchful eye on the situation

🌟 One time he actually got really jealous because you were giving a lycan more attention than him (which really wasn’t that much more, all things considered)

🌟 The following night he disappeared for a while and you heard loud snarling, barking and the like from outside the factory

🌟 Karl returned later looking rather pleased with himself

🌟 The lycans avoided you for nearly an entire month before you got Karl to confess that he had threatened all of them to stay away from you “or else”

🌟 You made him apologise and scolded him for being worried over such a thing

🌟 He blamed it on his wolf blood (being territorial and overprotective) but you knew better and that he was just a big whiny man-baby

🌟 Tying into my point from before; surprisingly, the lycans prefer the Stronghold over the factory itself and you guessed it had to do with the factory being too overwhelming for them (similarly to how it worked up Karl sometimes)

🌟 But every now and again it might get particularly cold and frosty and the lycans will ask Karl if he can let them into the factory for a while

🌟 Usually he says no, but you always try to convince him otherwise

🌟 “But Karl, it’s so cold outside! Pleeeease can you let them inside??? Just for the night!!! 🥺😢🙏🙏“

🌟 “(Y/n), if I keep caving to every request they ask of me they’re going to think I’m going soft!! I cannot have that, I am a very mean and tough alpha wolf!! >:(”

🌟 “ *you proceed to smooch Karl on the cheek* “

🌟 “...ⁱ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁱᵈᶜ”

🌟 It’s fair to say that you’re usually able to convince him to open the factory up to them

🌟 The lycans are often restricted to the lower levels, but they don’t mind since that’s where it’s the warmest anyway

🌟 When they do end up staying in the factory for a bit Karl makes sure to lock away the Soldats and Haulers 

🌟 (mostly to stop the lycans from coming into harm’s way, but also because overall the lycans are probably a better defence system than Karl’s experiments lmao)

🌟 One of the biggest things you’ve had to help Karl work on is his ability to control his own emotions

🌟 Prior to you living in the factory with him he used to be very destructive, transforming on every whim he got without really trying to fight his werewolf blood

🌟 When you first moved in, and you didn’t know anything about Karl’s lycan side, it made things very difficult for him since he was so used to wolfing-out whenever he felt the need to

🌟 His complacency with random transformations actually caused him to wolf-out several times during meetings

🌟 You weren’t present for any of them but when he recalled the memories you could tell they were somewhat embarrassing for him

🌟 He told you that times like those were when Mother Miranda’s true disgust was on full display

🌟 Karl always insisted that he didn’t give a fuck about anything she said, but you knew it still affected him sometimes

🌟 After all, Mother Miranda was the only parental figure that he’d had in his life in a very long time. How could her words not have some affect on him?

🌟 It became a lot easier for Karl after he told you he was part lycan, but prior to that there were some very close calls

🌟 He would disappear randomly, and for varying amounts of time without an explanation

🌟 One time you nearly caught him wolfing out so he had to lock the door and find a way to the bottom levels of the factory so he could sneak out without you seeing him

🌟 Of course all of this was made ten times harder by the fact he was in werewolf form by that point

🌟 Heisenberg decided you had to know about his lycan side when you started blaming yourself for him acting out

🌟 He knew he wasn’t perfect, not in any capacity, but god forbid you blame any of that on yourself

🌟 He was relieved that his confessed seemed to disperse almost all of your worries

🌟 Due to your combined efforts, and some realistic practice on volunteers such as Lady Dimitrescu, Karl has a far better grip on his werewolf transformations

🌟 Even around full moons he finds himself able to calm his emotions and stop himself from wolfing out

🌟 Karl (along with all the other lords) are so very grateful for everything you’ve done to help him

🌟 But Heisenberg insists he’ll kill you if you ever tell a soul that he’s helping Moreau control his own unpredictable transformations

🌟 “Aren’t you just the sweetest big brother omg 🥺🥺“

🌟 “SHUT UP I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU IF THIS GETS OUT”

🌟 Whenever Karl wolfs-out (or just transforms in general tbh) all his clothes get torn to smithereens, so you have to do your best to persuade Donna to make him some more

🌟 Especially now since he was literally down to his last set of clothes

🌟 But you can imagine she was still quite angry at Heisenberg for literally breaking into her house and gnawing on Angie like a chew-toy

🌟 But since she was the only seamstress in town you had to try an appease her in someway

🌟 It didn’t help that Karl had recently dug up her garden

🌟 Like what the fuck Karl we need Donna to like us you freak-show

🌟 Either way Karl was always running out of clothes, and fast

🌟 He had a small plethora of sewing knowledge, from years of patching up his own clothes, but that wouldn’t nearly be enough to fix the ribbons-worth of material he had left

🌟 Anyway you made Karl apologise to Donna and (especially) Angie 

🌟 “I’m... sorry.”

🌟 “For...?”

🌟 “For being way too epic for you losers to handle hehehe 😎😎”

🌟 You slapped him behind the head and made him apologise again- properly this time

🌟 Donna (begrudgingly) decided to help out and make Karl some new clothes

🌟 Despite being an absolute menace, he was still her brother

[yachiworld]

• ─ ˒˒ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫

˒˒ content :: dom!mary, choking, dumbification, degradation, branding/marking, implied sex, and mentions of forced orgasms

˒˒ pairing :: mary saotome x reader

˒˒ a/n authors note :: i just want mary to choke me and for her to love my expression, is that so hard too understand? maybe this is not my best but i am going with it anyways. will i regret this? ヽ(‘ / ‘ )ノ i am not regretting this now so i gonna post this :D

˒˒ please read this :: this post is for 18+ adults, minors dni

“please,” you beg mary as she leaves marks down your chest. your eyes are barely open due to mary forcing you to cum so many times. “aw, can’t you take it? you were babbling like a dumb slut before; you should be more grateful.” mary continued going lower, leaving dark marks all over your skin; you wondered if you ever wanted to cover them up or not, surely mary would get mad. you kept squirming because of her teasing, touching everywhere except where you needed. she noticed this and held down your arms to continue, but soon whiny pleas left your mouth; you couldn’t even think about what you were saying, just hoping it was enough to convince your girlfriend.

her eyebrows furrowed, and she looks up to see your face. “what a pathetic expression, just now you said you couldn’t take it, and now you want me to speed things up?” you couldn’t judge whether she was mad or turned on, you guessed both and explained that her teasing was like torture. to that, you swear you saw her eyes glimmer. she pulled back and went to get something; you thought you pushed too far, made her upset, and you were about to run after her, but she comes back with something metal and seems to form continuous chains.

“are you gonna tie me up?” she shakes her head and commands you to sit on your knees in front of her while closing your eyes. you do as she says and waits for what she's going to do next. you're startled by a cold material being put around your neck; mary whispers, “let's see how much more annoying you can you get.”

the shocking sense of the material tightening around your neck, choking you to open your eyes and to yelp at the sudden action. you scan mary's face, and she’s wearing an arrogant, sadistic grin, pleased with your reaction. “such a beautiful face baby, if only you waited before, now i'll make sure you won't even remember your name after you've said mine like i’m planning to make you.”

© all content is yachiworld’s original work. do not plagiarize/modify, repost, copy, reproduce or/and claim as yours for any of my content.

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

Sex & Candy 🍭

Chase Husdon x Rook Cappelletty

Warnings: oral receiving Rook, light smut, swearing.

Rook had sprawled out on the living room couch as he scrolled through instagram, scrolling upwards he scrolled back down; his eyes settling on a photo of Chase eating purple rock candy. "And now I'm thinking things I shouldn't be thinking."  He double tapped the photo and opened his text messages and went to Chase's contact.

He'd just barely posted the photo when he got a text from Rook. It was a simple 'wyd?.' Chase texted back and blew his hair out of his eyes.

Reading his boyfriend's response; he texted back again. Rook chuckled as Chase's response both called him out and said he'd be over soon.

Chase grinned; shaking his head as Rook slipped a pretty mild innuendo into the text. "Always off the cuff with it" he smiled and slipped his phone in his pants pocket.

(See linked photo here for text conversation and instagram post made using Zeeob)

Chase flicked his now messy hair out of his eyes he'd been unable to avoid Kells teasing him about the nail marks that scattered Rook's back and shoulders. "Well...he's found us out" he said; falling dramatically onto Rook's bed.

"Shit, I should have warned you about that" Rook smiled as Chase looked up at him. "He's been up my..." he questioned the words in his head and decided against them. "...he's been teasing me non stop about it."  He ran a hand  through his boyfriend's hair, leaning forward; Rook kissed Chase softly.

"Up your ass about it?" He asked hearing Rook hesitate. Flipping over; Chase looked at Rook, smiling as he couldn't help a laugh at the man's words.

Hanging his head; Rook scoffed as Chase filled in the words. "Yeah, sounded better in my head." He looked back at Chase again and slipped his hands into Chases.

"Mm sure it did" Chase laughed as Rook gave him a half hearted and sweet glare. "Something's just aren't meant to be said." He smiled and buried his head in Rook's neck, being pulled into a hug. "Mm, love you baby"

"C'mere" Rook pulled his boyfriend into a hug and brought Chase downwards with him. "There's a lot that doesn't need to be said." He cupped one of Chase's shoulders and squeezed it lightly. "Love you too"

He kicked his feet up and smiled happily, half laying on Rook as they relaxed in the unusual quiet. "So where'd you come up with that one, humm?" Chase ran a finger along Rook's chest as he found a fondness for his tattoos.

His eyes followed Chase's finger as the man trailed his tattoos. "Maybe I fell a little in love with that picture" Rook's words were honest and warm. "You're crazy beautiful and I cant believe I get to call you mine"

Rook was in the middle of reading a text when he felt lips ghosting his collarbone. Running a hand into Chase's hair; he hummed out a sweet sigh. They were still in a place 'sexually' where they were letting Chase figure out what did and didn't work.

Chase stole a glance upwards as Rook sighed. He grinned as his boyfriend's bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. Focusing his attention on what he was doing; he ran a string of kisses down Rook's neck as a hand slipped in one of the back pockets of his jeans.

Gripping at his boyfriend's bum; Rook bit his lip as Chase's kissed over his neck, hips rolling downwards against his dick. He shifted slightly and moaned out, guiding Chase against his thigh. "you're fine, keep at it" Rook was careful to only guide and not take over.

He nodded; moaning as the friction between them lit a sort of flame. Chase gripped the back of Rook's neck and shifted downwards, kissing his way down as he went.

His breath catching as Chase nipped as his ribs, sending a jolt downwards. "Hell, playing are you?" Rook cupped Chase's head and let his own tilt forward as his boyfriend took patience.

"Might be" Chase came up; kissing Rook softly as the drummer's two hands shifted him backwards a little.

"Gonna make this easier on you and not make you do it on your knees the first time." Rook carried the kiss and undid his jeans, his eyes falling shut as Chase seemed to fall into the motion naturally; a hand palming him slowly. "Mm my god." He keened and deepened the kiss.

Dipping his head down; Chase grinned into a kiss; running his thumb lightly across Rook's tip as one of the drummer's hands massaged his thigh. "Focus." He whispered as his boyfriend's head was nuzzled in the crook of his (Chase's) neck.

Rook's breath caught in his throat when Chase's softer and un callused hand wrapped around his dick. "Could say the same to you" he mumbled and fought against himself in an attempt not to buck upwards.

Chase pressed a kiss below Rook's jaw and drew his hand up the shaft of his boyfriend's dick as he would his own. "Me!" he stuck his tongue out and smiled as Rook whined out a breathy moan. "I do happen to know what I'm doing." Chase purred the words out before dipping down; sucking at the tip.

His hand snuck into Chase's hair as his boyfriend's focus was solely on him. "No doubt" Rook licked his lips and let go of a moan when Chase looked up at him. "Beautiful" he may be vanilla in practice but did love having his dick sucked.

He focused on Rook's fingers in his hair and hummed around his boyfriend's tip; drawing his tongue up the shaft before taking some of Rook in, sucking lightly.

Rook's head dipped back as Chase worked his dick as though it was easy. "Ohh God, baby" he purred out and looked down.

Chase grinned as Rook's hips arched, pushing him back down; his eyes shut as he sucked at boyfriend's dick. His fingers played at Rook's thigh as the man whined and moaned.

He was close and bit back a loud moan as Chase looked up, his boyfriend's lips were wrapped around his dick. Rook knew one thing though, he was close. "Close, baby" he mumbled out and lace his fingers through the man's dark hair.

Chase hollowed his cheeks out and ran his hand up Rook's chest. Gripping at The drummer's hand as they met. He bobbed his head a few more times and came off, swallowing. Coming upwards into a kiss; Chase ran his fingers along Rook's cheek. "so?" He asked; slipping his arms around his boyfriend's neck as the drummer was breathless.

Rook pulled Chase into a kiss and did up his jeans. Running his other hand along Chase's side. "So" He caught his breath and drew Chase into his lap. There wasn't necessarily a lot to say but found the words anyway. "It was...phenomenal" Rook cringed as the only word that popped up was in a Kells song about an ex.

"I'll take it" he smiled and kissed Rook again. Flicking his hair out of his eyes; he relaxed as Rook's head rested on his shoulder. "And to think you brought that up from a picture of me eating rock candy." Chase shook his head, kissing Rook's cheek.

Chase shut his eyes for a second almost praying that Kells wouldn't have some snarky comment to tease either one of them about; making a bee line to where he knew the popsicles were.

Rook ran a hand through his hair and sat on the counter as Colosn eyed him. "What?"

"You're not as quiet as you think" Colson pointed out and mimicked Rook's easily identifiable whiny moan. "God, you know I'm teasing Rookie" he chuckled as his drummer went beet red and hid his face in his hoodie.

"Fuck off, Kells!" He flipped the rapper the bird and mumbled something as Chase grinned, pulling him into a hug. "God, he can be an ass sometimes." Rook mumbled against Chase's neck.

"To know he's whiny would suggest you actually listen around here" Chase said between bites of cold raspberry flavoured ice and looked over at Colson. "And that's a little bit gay" he teased and slipped an arm around Rook, who's head hid in his neck.

This time it was his turn to be red faced. "Fuck..." Colson pursed his lips, his eyes diverting to Matthew (blackbear) who it was knowledge that he was with. "Mm, what's gay is this" he grinned and pulled matthew into a kiss.

Rolling his eyes as he listened to the banter; Matthew shook his head but returned the kiss. "Cols, leave 'em alone" he cuffed the back of his boyfriend's head and looped an arm around the man's neck. "You've got no business teasing him about that shit, you're 31, now act like it."

Rook looked up and grinned as Colson was out in his place by Matthew. "He's right" it was moments like these that made him aware of the age difference between himself and Chase. "You can tease me about it all you want but leave him of it" Rook pulled Chase close and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist.

[wxlfstxrx]

Your O'Knutzy writing is my favourite thing! I feel like Logan is very clingly...wanna write me so cute/soft headcanons abt it? Or when they boys are sick?:))))

hey hey, so i.... deviated... from the prompt I’M SORRY. like i was writing sick logan and somehow i couldn’t channel the clingy whiny part of him. maybe bc i get all awkward, guys-i’m-fine-stop-fussing when i’m sick sooooooo. honestly ngl this took a while to write, it’s been a rough two or so days and i’m just exhausted at the moment. it’s far from how i wanted it to be, but it’s bugging me and i want to post it, so here it is. hope you like it anyway! characters by @lumosinlove.

Logan wakes up one Sunday morning, head pounding and freezing his butt off. He has no idea what time it is, and he tries to open his eyes to check the time on his phone screen, but the moment he even tries to move, it feels like he’s going to throw up. 

His whole body hurts and he’s sweating under the covers, but he simply cannot find the energy to throw them off him.

Exhausted, he lets himself drift off into unconsciousness again, until he’s woken up by knocking on his door some time later. He groans, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping that whoever it is will stop fuelling his raging migraine.

When he hears Dumo’s worried voice, however, he sighs and musters up enough energy to yell a very hoarse and scratchy come in that makes him sound like a crying horse.

Dumo nudges the door open with his hip and enters the basement, holding a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water with some pills in his hands. “How are you feeling, mon fils?” He asks softly as he approaches Logan’s bed.

“How—” Logan’s voice cracks and he coughs. “How did you know?”

“Well, five out of seven people in this house are currently down with the flu, and it’s currently eleven in the morning but you’re still not up yet. Wasn’t hard to figure that you’d be the sixth,” He shrugs, placing the tray on the cramped nightstand by his bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, and Logan scoots closer under the covers so Dumo can press the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Merde, you’re burning up. Do you want me to bring down some painkillers for you?” Dumo asks, frowning as he combs Logan’s long brown fringe back, away from his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Dumo,” Logan rasps out, choking at the end as he dissolves into another round of coughs.

Dumo tuts, shaking his head worriedly as he clasps a hand on Logan’s shoulder before standing up. He mumbles to himself in French while he lets himself out of the room, and Logan buries himself further under the covers.

He wakes up again when a warm hand brushes his face, tracing across his cheekbone. He frowns and crinkles his nose, making an incoherent sound as he sniffles, trying to clear his blocked nose.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” A quiet voice asks apologetically, and Logan instinctively leans into the touch. Leo.

“Mmmm, but s’ok,” Logan whispers, his hand emerging from under the duvet to close around Leo’s wrist.

“How’re you feeling?” A second voice pitches in.

“What do you think?” He scoffs, turning his head for a moment so he can sneeze into his elbow. 

“Ooh, someone’s moody,” Finn’s grinning face comes into focus as Logan blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. He scowls, and Finn’s gaze softens. “Aww, I’m just teasing you, babe. C’mon, can you sit up?”

Leo slides a hand under Logan’s back and helps him shift into a sitting position, propped up against the headboard with the pillows cushioning his back. Finn picks up the bowl of soup and crosses over to the other side of the bed, carefully climbing onto the mattress and planting himself beside Logan, cross legged and facing him. 

He gives the soup a few good stirs with the spoon in his hand, squints at the bowl, and frowns. “It got cold.”

Without another word, he gets up and stalks out of the room. 

Logan blinks. “I could’ve just drank that. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Leo’s mouth quirks in a lopsided grin. “You know what he’s like. A complete baby at times, but he’s such a mom when it comes to things like this.”

Logan manages a weak laugh, which tapers off into a dry cough. “Fuck, I hate being sick.”

Leo grabs the glass of water and brings it up to Logan’s lips, and he closes his fingers around the glass, taking a few big gulps, letting out a satisfied ahhh when he drains the glass within the span of several seconds.

“Dumo called you two over?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Mmhm, texted us saying you were ill, that the whole family’s ill, actually—” Leo tosses him a sympathetic look. “But yeah, Dumo’s alone in this, even Celeste can barely get out of bed, so we’re his reinforcements.”

He grins, and turns around as Finn re-enters the room with the same bowl of soup, now piping hot.

“Right, ‘m back, went to reheat the soup, Dumo’s a mess up there, with the kids just, y’know,” Finn rambles absentmindedly as he climbs back onto the bed, the soup sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the bowl.

“I swear, if you spill that…”

“I won’t, now stop talking and drink this,” Finn chides without malice. He scoops a spoonful of the scalding soup, lifts it to his mouth to blow on it gently, and turns his wrist so he can direct the spoon to hover right in front of Logan’s face.

“I— I can do it myself, Harz,” Logan splutters.

“I’m sure you can, babe, I’d be worried if you couldn’t. Now hurry up before I actually do spill this.”

Logan sighs and parts his lips, letting Finn tip the spoonful into his mouth. He sighs, closing his eyes as he feels the warm liquid slide down his throat, and he instantly feels a lot less groggy. 

Finn insists on feeding him the whole bowl of soup, whereas Leo helps to bring in a cold, damp cloth from the bathroom to press against Logan’s forehead. 

“Mes amours, I’ll be fine,” Logan awkwardly chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, not used to having people fuss over him like this. 

Leo gives him a strange look, and Finn grins. “You’re blushing! How adorable. I never thought I’d see the day where you’re embarrassed by people taking care of you.”

“No, I’m not,” Logan says indignantly, but Finn bursts out into laughter.

“You so are. I love this, oh my god.”

“Fuck you,” Logan rasps out, and does a weird, painful combination of a sneeze and a cough. 

“Okay, okay, let’s get some rest, hmm? But,” Leo points a finger at him. “Medicine first.”

Damn it.

Logan was hoping that they’d forget about it. He slowly slides downwards, further under the covers, and looks away when Leo holds out the pills in his hand.

“Wha— C’mon, babe,” Leo’s free hand attempts, and fails, to tug the covers off of Logan. “You’re not gonna recover if you don’t take your meds.”

“Don’t wanna,” Logan replies, voice muffled by the duvet covering his mouth.

“Is it the pills?” Finn frowns. “You still don’t take pills after all these years?”

Logan glares at Finn, who looks genuinely surprised for a moment, before he schools his expression, giving the brunette a small smile.

“Okay, okay,” He holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Hey, Peanut, give me those. I’ll be back.”

Leo hands Finn the pills, and the redhead leaves the room once again, Leo staring at the door closing.

He slides his hand beneath the duvet and locates Logan’s hand. He laces their fingers together, resting over Logan’s heart and he smiles at him tenderly.

“S’ok, mon chou,” He squeezes Logan’s hand, and he melts at how loving and caring his two boys are towards him. He lets himself snuggle closer to Leo, and Leo runs a hand through Logan’s hair soothingly, helping to ease his headache into a dull throb.

When Finn comes back into the room, grinning like the cheshire cat, Logan can’t help himself.

“What the fuck?” He croaks out.

“Is he allowed to eat that?” Leo asks, startled.

“Yeah, ice cream’s actually good for when you’re sick,” Finn answers, giving them a smug grin. He climbs back onto the bed, beside Logan, and hands him the bowl.

Logan eyes the two scoops of dark chocolate ice cream warily. “Where’re the pills, Harz?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Finn retorts with an exaggerated wink.

“You know,” Leo’s hand freezes and he leans closer to Logan’s ear. “You need to take your meds if you wanna be strong again, hmm? You’ll definitely need your strength for what I’ve planned for you.”

Logan shivers as Leo’s breath tickles his ear and the hand closed around his moves lower, trailing lightly across his abdomen.

“Playing dirty, eh, Peanut?”

“Oh, I’ll show you dirty,” Leo licks his lips, voice low and tone teasing.

Finn clears his throat and nods his head towards the bowl still in Logan’s hand.

“You’re gonna make me finish this, aren’t you?” Logan sighs defeatedly, rubbing his face against the sleeve of his hoodie wearily. 

Finn does a mock bow, which looks ridiculous considering he’s seated down, body half twisted to face him. “Any time now, Your Highness.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but lets go of Leo’s hand to pick up the spoon. He tries his best not to think about the pills buried somewhere within the scoops of ice cream, and he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth while leaning against Leo’s side.

He reckons he tasted the bitterness of the pills at some points, but overall he has to admit that it’s better than he expected. Finn looks like a proud mom when Logan finishes the final scoop and leans his head back against Leo’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.

Leo pulls the empty bowl out of Logan’s hands and turns around to place them on the nightstand. 

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Finn whispers, moving closer so he can wrap an arm around Logan’s shoulders. 

Logan just nods and hums a noncommittal response, full and warm and satisfied. He feels Leo adjusting his position so they’re lying side by side on the bed, Logan in Finn’s arms and Leo spooning him from the back. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into Finn’s chest, feeling his mind drift in and out of focus once again.

A soft kiss is pressed onto the top of his head, and he mentally thanks Dumo for calling his boys, his perfect boys, over to the house. He feels much better now; his head has almost completely stopped pounding, he’s stopped sweating through his hoodie, and he feels loved. 

Logan falls right back asleep with a smile on his face, not even stirring when the door creaks open and Marc stumbles in, piling on top of the boys, right between him and Finn. He definitely doesn’t stir when Dumo stands in the doorway with his phone out to snap a picture of the four boys huddled together on the bed, tired beyond belief, but with the biggest smile he’s ever had all day.

[rqnvindr]

restless (1.5k followers special)

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

sypnosis: you don’t get sick that often. but when you do, your best friend, hajime has to put up with you acting like a baby. and being void of any inhibitions in your sleepy state leads to confessions of all sorts...

a/n: thank you guys so much for 1.5k! i originally planned to post this for my 1k followers special, but i sort of only gained inspiration to write it now, which all worked out because i hit another milestone ! thank you guys for all of the support and love, and for patiently waiting for this long overdue scenario ! 

--

“hajime~my soup is cold!” you screech, scrunching your nose as you drink the now stale liquid. iwaizumi face palms before reaching over to your tray to retrieve the bowl, rolling his eyes when you pout up at him as he fights the urge to give into you without any reprimanding. 

“if you had just drank it instead of complaining about how much you hated it you wouldn’t have this problem!” he scolds, clicking his tongue when you stick yours out at him. 

you throw the blankets over your head, burying yourself into your bedsheets as iwaizumi heads back to the kitchen to warm up your soup. he was your rock, but you seldom put him through this much. however, your sickness rewired your brain, making it harder for you to process the childishness of your demands and resort to mostly incomprehensible sighs and groans for communication. 

iwaizumi comes back with the now steaming bowl, stirring it gently to cool it down. 

“you have to drink it while it’s still hot.” you giggle, making him huff. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing, you just kind of sound like a mom.” iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at your endless giggles, wondering how you went from being whiny to a laughing mess from a simple statement that was meant to help you. 

“whatever, just drink up.” you tug at his sleeve before he could leave your side, pouting up at him. oh no not that face, he thinks to himself. 

“hajime, feed me.” you say in the most pleading voice that iwaizumi could not resist coming from you, as much as he hated to admit it. he sighs, pulling up your desk chair next to the bed. considering that this was the first time you’d been under the weather in a long while, it could potentially be more serious than it looks and he would hate to make you even more uncomfortable than you were already feeling. 

iwaizumi still has a little bit of trouble getting you to finish your soup even after complying to your command. he has to deal with you turning away from the spoon and doing more talking than eating. 

the hassle took a number on both of you, thought it seemed to have more of an effect on your already fatigued state, judging from the way you knocked out. iwaizumi stays in your room in case you woke up and needed anything else, keeping himself occupied with studying in the meantime. 

your soft breaths are rather soothing for him, relaxing him well enough to focus on his reading material. and when he turns around briefly to examine your sleeping face, his heart melts. you looked so peaceful it was hard to believe that you were quarreling with him earlier. iwaizumi chuckles as he plays back the moment in his head. as much as you annoyed him, he couldn’t have been happier to be the one to take care of you. 

in fact, iwaizumi often thought about what it would be like to be there for you, as more than a friend. when you called him this morning, voice hoarse and sniffling every five seconds, he thought about how you could’ve contacted anybody, oikawa, one of your girl friends, a whole list of people other than him. but like always, you came back to him. it was only natural that he’d wonder where these favors would take your guys’ relationship. 

iwaizumi is about to go get a glass of water until a soft murmur stops him.“i’d be so lonely without you...” your voice is so soft that he thinks his ears are failing him at first. 

“(y/n)?” iwaizumi calls for you, standing over your limp figure. 

“i know it must be hard to always deal with oikawa, and then there’s me.” you whisper. “i feel so bad, but you’re the most reliable friend i’ve ever had, and there’s no one who understands me like you do.” 

iwaizumi’s confused. were you talking in your sleep or giving a drowsy monologue, thinking that you were still dreaming as you talked to him?

he rubs the back of his neck, looking everywhere around the room but at you. “no, don’t feel bad, you know i’ll always be here for you, right?” ugh why is it so hard to reassure her about how much i care?

his test proves that you were awake when you giggle. “yeah. like how you always insist on walking me home even though i live close to campus. or how you saved me from almost dating someone who wasn’t good for me. you’re so protective~just like a knight in shining armor.” 

iwaizumi’s face burns up from the title. he didn’t want to force anything out of you, but his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. he also couldn’t deny how cute you looked hazily sputtering out your inner thoughts about him. maybe there was a chance that you felt the same way as he did...

he smiles, wiping the sweat that had formed on your forehead with a spare towel. “i’m glad you’re thankful for me. i’m just as thankful for you, but you really need to get some rest.”

iwaizumi starts walking away, but you grab his wrist. “no, please stay with me and hold my hand.” 

“i’m not leaving you, (y/n), i’m just going to the kitchen.” the warmth of your hand makes his palms sweat, both from your body heat and touch itself. 

“will you hold my hand when you get back?” you ask, making him sigh. 

“yes, i will. i’ll hold your hand for as long as you want, okay?” iwaizumi intended to say that more sarcastically, but he realized it came out differently when you squealed in response. 

--

your eyes slowly flutter open a couple hours later. you look down to see iwaizumi’s hand in yours, as he lies face down on the side of your bed. 

it takes a full minute to process that you’re actually holding hands with your best friend. you’d been dreaming about this for a while, but were wondering what led to this position. did you pass out and make him worry? did he just want to secretly show affection while you were unconscious? 

you feel relieved when he wakes up shortly after before your mind runs too wild. 

“hajime? what’s wrong? am i hurt?” you ask, slowly moving your hand away from his. iwaizumi’s glad that you don’t question the hand holding upfront, hoping to ease into that subject later.

“you were sick,” he replies with a yawn. “but you sound a lot better now, i think the nap helped.” 

you hum at his words. “i still have some body aches. but i am definitely feeling better.”

“that’s good.” iwaizumi clears his throat and awkward silence takes it’s place in the room. 

“but, why were we holding hands?” your cheeks warm up upon asking the inevitable question. 

iwaizumi sheepishly scratches his shoulder. “well, uh, you were a bit restless earlier and the only way for you to fall asleep was for me to hold your hand.” he says that fast, and you give him a questioning look. 

“what do you mean i was restless? just tell me the truth hajime, i won’t get mad.”

iwaizumi inhales deeply. “alright, you were a little bit drowsy and asked me to hold your hand when i tried to leave the room. you also said stuff about me being your ‘knight in shining armor’, and how no one else understands you like me and-”

“okay okay, stop i get it.” you raise your palm at him. 

“are you...embarrassed?” 

you lightly smack his arm. “of course i am! gah, and the fact that you heard everything just makes it even more, ugh!”

“i mean, if oikawa, mattsun or makki had heard you i’m sure they’d tell me anyway.” iwaizumi smirks, resulting in a glare from you. 

after a few seconds of trying to sting him with your stare, you break the silence. “you seem rather amused by my accidental confession, though.”

“not just amused. i’m happy.” iwaizumi holds out his hand for you to take, to which you accept, interlocking your fingers with his. 

you let out a chuckle. “well then, i’ll be sure to thank my sickness for giving me more courage than i would’ve ever had normally.” you get out of the covers and pull him in for a hug. he wraps his arms around you tightly, showing you that he’s never going to let you go. 

[regbeckblk]

some of my fav headcannons for regulus:

- virgo sun, cap rising, and pisces moon (still a bit indecisive tho)

- gets top grades!!! he is effortlessly smart and enjoys studying, reading and all of that nerd shit

- he is tall(ish)!!! maybe like a 5’10 or 5’11 around 16 years old. i think all of the blacks are fucking giants, so compared to his brother, yeah he’s ‘short’ 😒

- but.... before he was 16 he was a bit short and on the scrawny side. i think he was one of those guys that went through all of puberty over one summer. so he was seen as a baby for a while 😒

- he’s skinny, but he got a little bit of muscle. he plays quidditch 🤷‍♀️.

- runs a lot... it’s a time for him to be alone and relax

- i hc him as bi, but i also like stories where he’s ace or gay! 💗💜💙

- had a huge crush on james potter, but unrequited :( (but i do like jegulus stories!!!)

- had a confusing relationship with Barty Crouch.

- both were like ✨ bro... are we flirting?... or is it just a bro thing? ✨

- yes it was flirting🙄... but the only way regulus could flirt was roasting the fuck out of barty so it was hard to go any further

- he just cannot for his life able to express or define love in a healthy way.

- all regulus know is, make fun of people he likes, have trouble defining platonic and romantic love, be bisexual, have no moral compass, and lie 😐

- remember the discourse about him being a whore?

- i completely agree. i think he was a fuckboy.

- however, i don’t think he would realize his fuckboy tendencies. it was more just go with the flow... i’ll hook up with whoever i like... but that meant he unintentionally hurt a lot of people

- he probably would act normal right after like nothing happened and tell them it wasn’t a big deal😒

- it’s just that he can’t focus on a relationship and it was just a fun little one-time thing ☝️😩

- cannot imagine getting married or having children. waaaay too afraid of commitment

- his fuckboy energy definitely gives me saggitarrius vibes 😐 i hate those mfs much. def has a lot of sag or gemini placements

- always went for older girls (‼️mommy issues‼️)

- anger issues, will not hesitate to get into physical and verbal fights!!! he’s no shy, whiny, bitch baby 🥱

- he is a sarcastic little shit who teases his friends, but he’s also really sensitive to others' feelings. so for the people he cares about, he’ll try his best to limit the teasing

- i really do believe he was a sympathetic person and sweet sometimes but because of how he was raised it was hard for him to express it

- he can come off as selfish, uninterested, and overall, an asshole. it’s true, but he definitely exaggerates these traits in front of others (especially when met with emotional situations) 😬

- but his sympathetic nature is there 😞 just buried very deep within himself

- when it comes to quidditch... definitely turns into a jock

- yells “LETS GOOOOO” during practice 😭. would also definitely be the type to post his game stats on his story

- will break a rule or few 😼 but scared of authority (his mama mostly) so... not too far... unless he really knows he’s gonna get away with it 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

- really, really deep sleeper. has about 5 alarms to wake him up. trained himself to wake up naturally so he doesn’t have to depend on whether the alarm will wake him up or not.

- does not get cold. however, he will literally throw himself across the room if he comes in contact with cold feet or hands

- sirius and regulus would act like normal fucking siblings!!!!

- if sirius tells reg to do something, he would most likely do the opposite!!! (that’s what my younger sibling does 😐 most annoying shit ever)

- they fight and argue all the time over stupid shit!!!

- and most importantly, they do not think of each other 24/7!!! i saw a post saying regulus should be able to make his own decisions without having sirius involved all the time... and i completely agree!!!

- also, i hate the head cannon that reg and sirius lived in a physically abusive household. yes, they may have dealt with some emotional neglect because the family was so traditional and strict... but there was absolutely no evidence of physical abuse

-anyway... just a few more

- nic addiction and smokes occasionally (smokes joints because rolling is therapeutic for him)

- he struggles with mood disorders. i think we can all agree on this 😁

- i don’t think he was a loner 🙄 he had friends... maybe not super close... but he could rely on a few. maybe like barty or evan rosier.

- hated snape. thought he was gross, a hypocrite, and found his obsession with the marauders and lily annoying

- prodigy level at playing the piano and loves painting and sketching!!! ugh he’s so talented 😼

- dramatic and petty 🥱

- and lastly...

- HE’S FUCKING HOT AND A PRETTY ASS MF!!! 😈

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Eleven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: I hope y'all are having a good week :) Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Warnings: Infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you.

Chapter-specific warnings: Blowjobs; masturbation; impact play (kinda?) Summary: Christmas break for schools was coming up. Children’s Cottage would be closed; Jacob’s school was on vacation, too. Andy would be more than expected to be home. 

“Are you actually going out for lunch?” Nora was almost awed as she watched me. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my scarf.

“I’m just running out to the drive-through, don’t get too excited,” I grumbled.

“Oh, no, I’m getting the banner out—Are you not taking your coat?”

Nora eyed me suspiciously as I patted down my pockets for my keycard, keys, phone, and wallet.

“Don’t need it, I’m just running out to my car!” I added, backing away from her,  “I‘m wearing a sweater dress and everything, it’s warm, I’ll be fine, I’ll be back—bye!”

--

“There you are,” Andy looked me over as I shut the car door behind myself, “Where’s your coat, angel?”

“Upstairs—I’m fine, why is everyone so obsessed with my coat today?” I grumbled as I pulled my seatbelt on, “I’m sorry I’m late, I had a call run over.”

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful.”

Andy’s hand settled on my thigh as he pulled away from the curb. I smiled, resting my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Somewhere quiet. How long do you get for lunch again?”

“Technically? An hour.”

“Why do you say ‘technically’?”

I shrugged.

“I’ve never taken the full hour.”

“‘Course you haven’t,” Andy mumbled. I could hear the eyeroll.

“Why’d the call run over, anyway?” He asked.

“Mm, client was pissed about a piece about their competitor in the Globe, got more buzz than what we put out for them. I pointed out that I had recommended additional posts on their Instagram to highlight this activation, but they’d opted out.”

Andy hummed sympathetically, his hand rubbing my thigh.

“Sorry, baby,” He murmured. I grunted.

“Not your fault my client’s a shithead,” I sighed heavily, “I just want Christmas to be fuckin’ over.”

“…Speaking of which,” Andy’s hand lifted away from my thigh, fingers tucking under my chin to draw my attention to him. I tipped my head to the side, opening my eyes to look at him. He shot me a glance before returning his eyes to the road.

“I’m not gonna be able to see you for a couple of weeks—”

“Andy, it’s alright,” I reassured gently, “I figured.” I tipped my head forward, pressing a kiss to his palm before I let my head fall back and my eyes close again. There was a moment of hesitation before Andy’s hand resettled on my thigh. Christmas break for schools was coming up. Children’s Cottage would be closed; Jacob’s school was on vacation, too. Andy would be more than expected to be home. I’d realized this myself when Andy had left my apartment (after he’d finger-fucked my brains out and before I’d eaten my dinner).

It was a few more minutes of quiet before I heard Andy shut the car off. I opened my eyes, lifting my head and looking around. We were pulled into a parking space in front of Crystal Lake. It was entirely frozen over; there were no other cars parked nearby.

“We going ice skating?” I asked, turning to look at Andy.

“Not this time,” He chuckled. He undid his seatbelt before he leaned across the console. I leaned away before his lips could touch mine. He frowned, brow furrowing.

“What is it?”

“What if someone sees us?” I asked, glancing around. Andy’s brow quirked, amused.

“Who’s gonna see us?” He murmured. He reached down and undid my seatbelt before he slipped a hand behind my neck, drawing me in for a kiss. I was still a little tense, even as Andy ran his hand up and down my thigh. I pawed at the collar of Andy’s coat, pushing it aside and thumbing at his adam’s apple. He grunted quietly, winding his hand into my hair and lightly tugging my head to the side.

I groaned as Andy’s mouth trailed down to my neck.

“Careful,” I murmured, “No new marks above my collar.”

“Fine,” Andy grumbled. I giggled at the feeling of his beard tickling my skin. I opened my eyes, tensing as I heard a car approaching. Shit, I knew that car.

“Toby,” I realized, pushing Andy back.

“What?” He asked, dazed.

“Toby,” I hissed, pushing him back to his side of the car. I reached up, pushing his chin in the direction she was coming from before ducking down, leaning across the console.

“Aw, fuck,” Andy grumbled.

There were a few seconds of quiet before I heard the window roll down and felt the frigid breeze ruffle my hair.

“Hey, Toby,” Andy greeted brightly.

“Hi there! What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Ah, Duff’s three houses back that way, speaking with a witness. I got stuck on a call- just got off of it.”

Damn, he was a quick thinker.

I glanced up at Andy from where I was crouched before I looked over his thighs. I bit my lip, reaching out and running my hand over his crotch. I felt him go tense and I smiled, raising my fingers to the zipper on his slacks. His hand settled on my shoulder, warning. I shifted in my seat, leaning across the console a little further and mouthing along the dark fabric. Andy’s hand grip tightened.

I could hear him and Toby talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was more focused on the feeling of Andy hardening in his pants. I slid my hand into his underwear, pushing it down and pulling him out. He was half-hard already, his hand massaging my shoulder.

“Really, the Christmas pageant?” I heard Andy say. I flicked my tongue out, wetting my lips before taking the head into my mouth. Andy’s hand was suddenly in my hair, holding me firmly. I closed my eyes, trying not to moan. I would have to either keep my head-bobbing to a minimum, or Andy would have to move his hand if we didn’t want to get caught.

I took more of him into my mouth, as much as I could reach without moving too much. I trailed my tongue along the underside as Andy’s hand slipped down from my hair to cup my breast through my sweater. He squeezed it, then I felt him twitch in my mouth. I allowed myself a quiet moan, which I heard Andy cover up with a cough. I spread my legs, sliding my other hand between them and reaching under my dress, rubbing at my panty-covered clit through my tights.

“Sorry, I think I uh—I think I might be coming down with something,” He excused to Toby.

“There isn’t anything going around at the courthouse, is there?”

“Ah, you know, this time of year there’s always someone with a cold.”

I smiled around his cock, leaning back a little and flicking my tongue over the head, then suckling it as quietly as I could. Toby wasn’t parked directly beside us; her car was still on and I could vaguely hear the Christmas station playing - she probably couldn’t hear me. I heard Andy clear his throat a couple of times. I was getting to him. I glanced up, watching him as I took the head into my mouth before I let my tongue trail along the side.

“Shit,” Andy mumbled before he hurriedly added, holding up his phone and waving it a bit so that Toby couldn’t make out the screen, “That’s my partner, sorry-- Yeah, of course-- Great seeing you, too.”

A pause, then the hum of the window being rolled up. Once it was closed, I let myself moan loudly.

“Goddamnit.”

I reveled in the throaty swear I pulled from him. I pulled off of his length, gripping the shaft and peering up at him as he pressed his phone to his ear.

“She’s still fucking sitting right there,” He muttered, eyes set forward, “Why isn’t she leaving?”

“Really loving how committed you are to this fake phone call. It’s very method,” I teased. Andy let out a shaky laugh.

“You’re driving me crazy, angel. Fuck,” He glanced over, turning his head and letting his eyes drop to where I was still teasing myself, “You playing with your pussy? Hm? Are you rubbing your clit, angel?”

“Uh huh,” I murmured. I leaned in, taking Andy back into my mouth and bobbing my head, letting myself make all the little sounds I’d held in before.

“Fucking sound so pretty, baby. Do your fingers feel good on your clit?”

“Mhm.”

Andy’s hips stuttered at the vibrations my hum produced, pushing him deeper into my mouth.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry, pretty girl,” Andy breathed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. I pulled off of his dick with the most obscene ‘pop’ I could manage.

“Is Toby gone yet?” I asked, trying to ignore how whiny my voice sounded. I rubbed my clit harder, hips rocking into the pressure.

Andy turned his head subtly, looking out through the windshield before he glanced out of the window.

“Yeah,” He sighed, looking around, “Finally--”

“Then look at me,” I murmured. Andy looked down, his jaw dropping open and his phone slipping out of his hand as he watched me rub the head of his cock over my lips.

“Goddamn,” Andy breathed, sliding a hand back into my hair, “How are you even real?”

I flushed at the praise, batting my eyelashes a little as I worked Andy’s shaft with my hand.

“Will you cum in my mouth, Andy?” I begged, “Please?”

“That what you want, angel?” Andy breathed out; his voice sounded tight; he was close.

“Mm, what I really want is for you to cum in my pussy, but this’ll have to do for now,” I admitted before I stuck my tongue out. Andy’s grip tightened in my hair as he loosed a lustful groan. His hips pressed forward, driving his cock back into my mouth and fucking his load down my throat. I swallowed it down, moaning around him and watching as his head tipped back against the headrest.

“Fuck,” Andy gasped out. He looked over, eyeing where my hand was still working at my clit. He leaned down, pushing my hand out of the way and sliding his hand under my skirt. He rubbed his fingers over my clit a few times.

“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” He murmured. I shook my head, leaning back and resting my head on his thigh, his cock softening in my hand.

“Say it, angel,” He growled.

“It’s not enough, Andy,” I whined. Andy hummed, seeming thoughtful for a moment as he rubbed at my clit a couple more times. His hand lifted away from my clit before he brought it back down - not hard enough to be an honest-to-god slap, but hard enough that I felt it. It shocked me through the layers and I gasped.

“Andy!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, fuck,” I breathed, spreading my legs wider for him. Andy grunted, bringing his hand down across my clit in a series of controlled taps. I was already so worked up, it wasn’t long before I was cumming. I whined, hips jolting as I came. My thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand there and stopping him.

“Fuuuck, fuckfuckfuck,” I mumbled as I shook through it. As my thighs relaxed, Andy removed his hand, smoothing my hair back.

I leaned away, carefully tucking Andy away again and doing up his zip. I sat up slowly and Andy cupped my aching jaw, drawing me up for a kiss. I dipped my tongue into his mouth, moaning as he sucked at it. Andy broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

“Remember when you were jumpy about kissing me a little while ago?” He teased. I smiled. “I got over it.” Tag list: @fanficadddddict69 ; @nina-sj​; @rosalynshields ; @what-is-your-wish​ ; @chris-butt ; @aubreeskailynn ;

[jiangchengrights]

i wake to you at dawn

also available on ao3

“Alright, I get it,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself from where she lays, half of her face shoved into the pillow beneath her head, the other half just barely illuminated by the screen on her phone, “This dog is friends with that other dog now. Whoop de-fucking-do.”

Usually, these soft animal videos on Instagram don’t annoy her that much, even when they are about dogs, but she’s seen this specific post about fourteen times tonight. She can recite by memory the posts that come after it (a celebrity laying out in the sun, the tagline only the sunflower emoji, followed by one of Wen Qing, looking stern but fond as her lap is completely covered by both Wei Ying and Wen Ning, the tagline for that being ‘Reluctant jie’, and so on and so on) because she’s been frenetically refreshing all of her social media apps in order; she now knows the current lineup of instagram posts and tweets in her feed and has seen every godforsaken not-actually-that-interesting story of all of her friends (which isn’t fair to them, really, considering all of the important ones are here trapped in this same hotel as Wei Ying).

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng grumbles from the other side of the room where he lays on his bed (because of course he’s a part of her bridal party. Kind of. He’s walking her down the aisle tomorrow which, okay, makes him technically not a part of her party but she wasn’t about to let him skate free the night before her wedding)(or any of her bridal functions)(not that she needed to worry: he’d taken all planning rights away from her for her bridal shower and bachelorette party, he’d only tolerated the help of shijie) and throws his extra pillow at her, “If I have to hear that fucking dog video one more time, I swear to god, I’ll break your kneecaps. Do you hear me? I’ll have to drag you down the aisle tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk.”

“I thought you liked dogs, Shidi,” she replies, shifting ever-so-slightly so that she can squint at him past her phone.

“Wei Wuxian-”

“A-Cheng, A-Ying,” Shijie hums soothingly, from the other side of the room, “Please rest, for me. Your Shijie needs sleep too.”

“And if you don’t,” Wen Qing pipes up, “I know other ways to make you shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying whines, locking her phone with an audible click and resting it on the pillow next to her head, “I’ll try to sleep. For Shijie.”

Wei Ying does not sleep. She tries, she really does. Turns off all the lights and all the sounds and everything shiny that could keep her just engaged enough to stay awake. She tries to listen to the steadying breathes of her bridal party around her; Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang lay on the bed to her left, Shijie and Wen Qing to her right, Wen Ning passed out on the floor (he’d been invited, truly, to sleep in the empty spot next to her, only he’d fallen asleep long before everyone else and moving him to an actual bed proved to be very difficult when all the adults in the room were half (three fourths) wine drunk and giggling, so they’d just put a pillow under his head and wrapped him in their softest blankets and left it at that). She practices all the meditation tricks Lan Zhan had taught her; tries to calm her mind and her breathing and her heart.

It doesn’t work.

God, she wishes to herself, regardless of however illogical it may be, I wish Lan Zhan was in my bridal party.

With a sigh, she spends some time reflecting. She’s made so many bad decisions in her life, ones that have resulted in no less than three broken arms (sorry A-Cheng), many school detentions, almost getting expelled from university, a car accident that had left Shijie with seatbelt burns and a black eye from the airbag and Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, had left Lan Zhan, who’d been sitting prim and proper in the back seat, with scars that still lingered across the expanse of her back in the shape of all of Wei Ying’s nightmares. She’d chosen to hide away after that for three years in a different city with different hair and a different smile on her face and pretend like she didn’t feel a bone crushing loneliness in her entire being every time she thought of her Shijie, and didi, and her Lan Zhan who wasn’t really hers anymore, and that fact that in her self imposed exile she would never seen any of them again. That was, until Lan Zhan found her and dragged her back home and made her whole again.

Wei Ying was always whole, Lan Zhan would say, has said, I just helped Wei Ying find a way back. Will always bring Wei Ying back.

But with all that behind her and mostly wrapped up, this, tonight, right here, feels like her worst idea yet. She’d been so confident too! Had fought every naysayer, including Lan Zhan herself, with a cocky smile and a wave of her hand.

Brides shouldn't see each other the night before the wedding! She had laughed, and then laughed harder when Lan Zhan’s fingers had tightened where they dug into her hip, Besides, we’re not one of those couples! We can handle one night apart!

And she had been right, for the most part. Of course she missed Lan Zhan, but a night spent apart, having fun with her little family, all of them basking in the shared excitement of her impending nuptials. What she hadn’t anticipated was trying to sleep without Lan Zhan beside her, not when she’s this nervous, hadn’t thought about how deeply she would miss Lan Zhan’s warm weight behind her, her steadying arm firm around her waist, holding Wei Ying together like she did every night. She feels the absence with every shift of her hips that press backwards into nothing, every time she throws an arm out to rest on an empty pillow and the fact that there are no warm, soft, calves to ruthlessly shove her cold toes against.

By the time she picks up her phone again, everyone in the room is peacefully asleep and the  clock on her bedside table blinks 2:36, proud and red and rude, if you ask Wei Ying. She gives up on sleep and starts mentally calculating exactly how much concealer she’ll need to cover the bags under her eyes. After all, she wants to look her absolute best for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan who is so steady and warm and beautiful, Lan Zhan who could open her mouth wide and eat Wei Ying’s entire heart in one bite but doesn’t, instead offering her own heart up on a silver platter for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying opens their messages on her phone, reads through the last few, laughs at the pictures she’d sent earlier in the night of Nie Mingjue, eyes half lidded with alcohol, laying messy kisses to the side of Xichen-ge’s face, who seemed to be accepting them with grace and only slightly tinged red ears. She taps her fingers on the screen, starting a message, lan zhan i can’t slee-

She doubles back, erasing it, deciding she doesn’t need to be whiny the night before their wedding, when Lan Zhan is surely asleep anyways. Again she starts, good early morning, lan zhan! i can’t wait to see you in your-

Too much, that is utterly too much. i love you, she types, hesitates with her thumb over the send button. What if the sound of her phone wakes Lan Zhan up? What if then Lan Zhan can’t fall back asleep? What if Lan Zhan tosses and turns all night and ends up with a headache, overtired on their wedding day of all times? What if this texts absolutely ruins everythi-

Her phone sounds, the little swooping noise it makes when she receives a new message on the thread she’s already looking at. She looks down and finds a link from Lan Zhan to a video of baby bunnies playing together with a message that says, When we return from our honeymoon, I think it is time we get another bunny. Possibly two.

And well. Her decision is made for her really. If Lan Zhan is awake, laying in her own bed in a room on the other side of the hotel, fighting off insomniatic boredom with bunny videos, there’s no way Wei Ying can stay here and allow them both to suffer.

She finds herself glad that Wen Ning is on the floor, though it looks a tad uncomfortable, because she’s able to slip out of bed with ease, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. The only thing she grabs is her phone, not even bothering to try to find her shoes in the colossal mess that is her dark bridal room, littered with take out and bottles and stripped off clothing. Her nose crinkles, amused, when she thinks of the look of reprove she’ll surely get from Lan Zhan when she realizes Wei Ying walked around barefoot.

She manages to zigzag her way to the door without stepping on anything or making any noise, a feat she will congratulate herself on later. The door opens slowly, making the barest hint of noise as yellow hotel-hallway light floods the entrance to the room. Wei Ying pumps her fist, gloating at being able to sneak out without a single one of her party-poopers (read: caring family) waking up to ruin it for her and make her climb back into her own bed.

That is, until she catches Nie Huaisang’s eyes, watching her from where he lays next to Jiang Cheng. The most dangerous opponent, really, because with one shove of his arm he’d have Jiang Cheng up and yelling, alarming the whole room before she’d even make it to the elevator. She’s not sure she knows the layout of the hotel well enough to make it safely inside Lan Zhan’s room before one of them caught her.

Silent, slow, she moves one finger up to place over her lips, keeping eye contact with Nie Huaisang the whole time. She pleads with him from across the room, imploring him to be cool. He blinks, once, twice, slow like a cat in the sun, and then closes his eyes a third time for good and raises one, slow, thumbs up to her.

Her sigh of relief is the last noise in the room before she shuts the door and power walks to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She is going to buy him the biggest fruit basket. She dances by herself once inside the elevator, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in her red silk sleep tank and shorts, goosebumps prickling her arms and thighs. If only Lan Zhan’s room wasn’t so stupidly far away.

Of course her room has to be far away! Jiang Cheng had yelled when Wei Ying whined about it, the second you start drinking all you want to do is sit in her lap! You’re lucky I’m letting her party stay in the same hotel as yours!

And well, he hadn’t been wrong, per say, she thinks to herself as she tiptoes off the elevator and down the maze-like hall to get to Lan Zhan’s room. She still didn’t appreciate the distance though. She quietly tap taps on the door with one hand, pressing send on a text with the other that reads, lan zhan let me in lan ZHAN!!!

The door opens before her hand has even fallen back to her side. And there is her Lan Zhan, in soft cloud print pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, hair drawn up into a neat bun, eyes tired but awake.

“Wei Ying,” she says, the smile in her voice all Wei Ying needs to know about her welcome. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, grinning when she feels the others arms sneak around her waist.

“Mmm, Lan Zhan,” she hums against Lan Zhan’s neck, moving up to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her nose against the corner of Lan Zhan’s jaw, “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

“I thought I was not supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Lan Zhan replies, but she’s already inching backwards into the room, dragging Wei Ying along with her.

“Who ever said that?” Wei Ying asks, knowing full well she was the one who said that, a smile on her face when she lets Lan Zhan drop her into bed.

“Besides,” she says, once Lan Zhan is settled beside her, reaching one hand up to pet the side of Lan Zhan’s face, thumb rubbing gentle circles across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s cheekbone, “Does it count if there’s two brides? I don’t think so, we cancel each other out, see? If anything we have to do the opposite, you know, we have to see each other extra hard tonight.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, her lips pulling up ever so slightly on one side as she leans in to rest her forehead against Wei Ying’s, legs tangling together, one hand sliding underneath Wei Ying’s shirt to spread warm and wide and firm in the valley between her shoulder blades, “Is that so?”

“Yes, tonight we have to,” Wei Ying nods, finally allowing her eyes to close as she presses further into Lan Zhan’s embrace, sleep finally weighing on her shoulders. She lets her head drop down, lips brushing against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, breathing her words right into Lan Zhan’s chest, “And every night too. I’ll tack that on for free, Lan Zhan, every night.”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs against her hair and melts under Wei Ying’s nimble fingers, relaxed at once with the promise of forever, “Every night.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispers, one final thing, around a yawn and finally, finally settles for the night. She almost misses Lan Zhan’s whispered reply, I love you too.

But she doesn’t. She never wants to miss a single thing Lan Zhan has to say.

Coda:

For all of fifteen seconds, the world is warm and bright and everything good when Wei Ying wakes up. Toned legs tangle with her own and a soft hand pets her hair away from her face, gentle and comforting again and again. She herself is pressed messily against Lan Zhan’s chest, quite possibly, embarrassingly, drooling ever so slightly. She does not have time to register this, however, before the banging starts.

“Wei Wuxian, I know you’re in there!” comes a belt from the other side of the door, that has her shooting up in an awkward half sitting position, splayed on one-fourth on the bed and three-fourths in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan’s hands act as a steadying force, one on her hip, the other on her back, as she blinks deliriously around the room.

Nie Mingjue seems to be in a similar position, probably blinking off a hangover and propelling up from his sleeping position, glaring around the room like he might find the source of their disturbance somewhere inside. Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, groans loud and long, pressing his pillow over his ears.

“I see you are up,” Lan Xichen smiles from the little table where he sits, drinking his cup of tea peacefully, unperturbed by the pounding on their door, “I hope you rested well.”

“I did, thank you Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying tries to laugh around the blush high in her cheeks, only now really registering the fact that Lan Zhan was also sharing a room and not, in fact, alone just waiting for Wei Ying to traipse her way in.

But when she looks down at the woman laying beside her, she sees none of her own embarrassment reflected there, only a fond smile and a soft hand reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Huh, she thinks, revising her earlier thoughts, maybe not alone but definitely waiting for me.

“Wei Wuxian!” comes again from outside the door, though this time it just has her laughing, pushing into Lan Zhan’s hands like a cat.

“When did you get here?” Nie Mingjue asks, rubbing at his eyes. But he stands and stumbles his way over to Xichen and the tea and doesn’t seem particularly hard pressed for an answer, so Wei Ying ignores it.

“Hi, we’re getting married today,” she says instead, meeting Lan Zhan’s smile with her own.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums while the banging on the door stops. Finally, Wei Ying sighs, leaning down to press her lips against Lan Zhan’s, chaste because they are still in front of Lan Zhan’s brother and her brother in law. She’s still there when the door pops open, revealing a quietly furious Wen Qing.

“Wei Wuxian,” she seethes, taking calculated steps closer, “You were supposed to stay in your bed.”

“I did!” Wei Ying says, smiling wide to prove her innocence, “Lan Zhan is my bed!”

“I am going to-” Jiang Cheng barges through, leaving no one to hold the door open; it swings heavily back straight towards Jiang Yanli.

Before Wei Ying can even shout a disgruntled hey! Jin Zixuan, who was already on his way to the door, catches it with his hand and leads Jiang Yanli inside with a gentle hand and a soft smile that makes Wei Ying want to puke.

But Yanli-jie smiles back, big and happy and unashamed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Hello, husband.”

“Good morning, A-Li,” he says back, wistful and dopey as he leads her inside with a soft hand on the small of her back. Right in that moment, Wei Ying decides maybe she doesn’t hate him. For now.

“Sorry, Shijie,” Jiang Cheng responds, automatic when he looks back but Jiang Yanli waves him off with a forgiving smile.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose A-Cheng.”

The commotion leaves Wei Ying relaxed in a way she should have known better than to be, because all too soon she is being hoisted away from her warm spot on the bed and dragged out of the room.

“You promised, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing snaps, but Wei Ying can already hear the forgiveness in her voice, the amusement. Wei Ying lets herself be dragged along, barefoot again, back to her own room. And then because honestly she’s a little on the edge of too-excited and too-in love she shouts over her shoulder:

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, Wife!” and maintains vision of the room just long enough for Lan Zhan, who’d pushed herself into an upright position, turn red and drop back down into the bed with a gasp, like all of the air had been knocked out of her.

Wei Ying’s cackles are only rivaled by the quiet, but pleased chuckles from Lan Xichen.

“Do you have to be such an annoyingly sweet couple every single day?” Wen Qing huffs, letting go of her (fake, Wei Ying is pretty sure) anger entirely, sliding her arm up so they can lock elbows, walking arm and arm back to Wei Ying’s room.

Wei Ying thinks of Lan Zhan, warm around her and ever inviting, even if it was 2AM, even if Wei Ying looked like a ragamuffin, even if, even if, and smiles wide, cheesy, deliriously with all the right decisions she’s made in this life and says, “Yes.”

[minghaos-pet]

sucker punch (1/?)

eventual smut

group: ateez

member: fighter!jongho

word count: 3k

warnings: violence, language, sexual suggestion, drug use, fear???

“Can you not drive any smoother?” Jongho groaned beside you, clutching his side and wincing each time you drove over a bump or pothole.

“I’m trying my best,” you glared at him for a short while, “it’s not my fault the roads are fucked up.”

“You could at least try to avoid them,” he spat, “I’m fucking dying in your passenger seat.”

“No you’re not,” you clenched your jaw trying to look as steely as possible, but deep down you had to admit you were a little worried he actually was dying in the seat next to you.

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed amidst a sharp exhale as the road beneath you turned from pocked asphalt to straight gravel and sand. The car bounced violently along and your face was practically pressed against the windshield trying to see the road in front of you enough to avoid rocks.

“I need to turn the lights on,” you reached for the knob when his hand shot out in protest, “I can’t see a goddamn thing on the road, Jongho.” All he could do in response was whine, too agonized and exhausted to form words. Regardless of his lack-of-response, you didn’t turn the lights on, knowing that if you did your chances of being stopped by any stray cops would raise tenfold. An injured-Jongho was one thing to deal with, having someone dig through your car in the middle of the night was another. “Are we--”

“Stop the car,” he interrupted and swung the door open as you slammed on the brakes, practically throwing yourself across his lap to prevent him from rolling out of the car as he vomited outside the open door. After a minute or two he righted himself, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and pulled the door closed.

“You good?” You looked at him with (mostly fake) disgust.

“Fuck you,” he smiled weakly as you pressed on the gas, “I think I ruptured my spleen.”

You bit your lip and kept silent, continuing to drive the last couple miles to your destination. A ruptured spleen, or any other medical malady that could bring Jongho practically to his knees hurling onto a dirt road was far from good. You knew the medic you were visiting could fix up some lacerations, a broken rib or two, but something more internally damaging was out of the question as far as you were concerned. “Jongho…” your voice was quiet and riddled with anxiety, you looked over at him, his forehead drenched in sweat, lip split, and bloody knuckled pressed tightly against his right side, “should I take you to a hospital?”

In the darkness you could see his eyes soften as much as they could, “I’m fine, baby,” you could hear the effort he was making to hide the pain in his voice, “I’m just being a bitch, is all.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and refocused on the road, scared that if you tried to speak your voice would crack. Your relationship with Jongho was complicated, and definitely not one that either of you filled with emotions. You found him a year ago when he needed a manager, someone to allocate his earnings and pay-off his debts, patch up any injuries, someone to fuck if the occasion called for it. For 13 months you’d done exactly that, he paid you relatively handsomely (but you always snuck a little extra cash if you could) and it got you out of the depressive post-grad hole you’d been trapped in. It was mutualism at its finest.

When you pulled up to the house the lights outside were off. They were supposed to be on. You parked the car in the driveway and watched Jongho swing the door open and struggle greatly to exit the vehicle, if the circumstances weren’t as pressing you might have laughed at him and thought it was cute. “Do you need help?” You asked.

“No, y/n, I can exit a fucking car on my own,” you watched him struggle for a few more seconds before he turned to you pouting, “...yes, please.”

You sighed and slammed your door behind you, walking around the front of the car to Jongho; “where can I not touch?” 

“Avoid my entire right side if you can, and my shoulder’s a little rough too, but not as bad.” You wrapped your arm around his back and under his shoulder as gently as you could, preparing for his weight as you helped him slide out of the car, “you might have to help me walk too,” he said sheepishly as you did your best to close the door behind you and lock the car.

“Anything for you,” you rolled your eyes and sarcastically smiled at him, hoping he was smiling back in the dark. When you reached the door of the mobile home you knocked quietly, not wanting to wake up any neighborhood dogs. You were about to knock again when the porch light flickered on and the door opened slowly. “You’re late. I thought you died along the way,” the gruff man in front of you said to Jongho, ignoring your presence entirely...not that you were complaining; it was better to be invisible in situations like this.

“Yeah,” Jongho shot you a glance and in the yellow light you could see the blood caked on his cheekbone, “she can’t fucking drive, I guess.” You transferred Jongho to the man in front of you, relieved to let your shoulders and back have a break. The house was small and poorly decorated. A box of medical supplies set on a dining room table next to a glass of water and a picture of an old 1970s grandma. Jongho collapsed into the pulled-out chair and you helped him take off his shirt while the other man washed his hands. “So what’s wrong with you this time? You look like shit.” He asked from the kitchen. “I think I have a broken or bruised rib and maybe a ruptured spleen,” Jongho kicked his shoes off under the table, “but nothing too serious other than that. Might need to pop my shoulder back in though.”

“Can’t do anything for a ruptured spleen,” he responded, “needa go to the hospital for that one or you’ll bleed out internally in a day or so.”

You gulped, feeling the anxiety raise in your body once more. You stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, disappearing nicely into the ugly floral wallpaper. You could have sworn Jongho’s eyes flicked up to you, but you weren’t completely sure.

“Well then,” Jongho placed his hand on the table, “I’m sure there’s no ruptured spleen here.”

“If you get nauseous or pass out you should be worried.”

The doctor--could you call him a doctor?--stitched up Jongho’s face and looked at his side, pushing slightly on the purple flesh as Jongho’s face screwed in pain. Surprisingly, he was quiet though, a glaring contrast to the whiny, annoying mess you drove for an hour and a half through the dark. You wrung your hands, wondering if you should tell the doctor more details about what happened; surely it would allow Jongho to get the care he needed, even if it wasn’t pertaining to his bruised ribs or cut up face. “Um,” you squeaked from the corner and cleared your throat to speak clearly, “he did throw up on the way here...could that be a spleen-thing?”

Jongho looked up at you and gave you a look that told you you should have kept your mouth shut.

“Next time don’t bring your mouthy girl,” the doctor glared at you for an instant, “I don’t like people telling me how to do my job.”

“Not my girl,” Jongho said flatly, “woulda left the bitch at home anyway if I could move without feeling like I was gonna keel over dead.” He looked at you while he said it, his voice monotonous but his eyes apologetic. You crossed your arms over your chest, you knew he didn’t mean it, but it still didn’t feel good to be disrespected like that.

“What’s her name?” The doctor asked Jongho and looked you up and down more thoroughly.

“Don’t--”

“It’s y/n,” you cut him off, receiving the harshest warning look from Jongho. He shook his head slightly, but you didn’t pick up on it. The doctor pushed his chair back and stood up, walking slowly towards you while you sunk further into the wall, Jongho went to move as well, but his condition left him glued to the chair.

“How much?” He asked Jongho, but his focus maintained on you, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Not for sale.” You could hear the resentment drip from Jongho’s tongue. A twisted part of you wished you could see through the man and watch Jongho get angrier, the way his fists balled up and his jaw set.

“Then get out of my fucking house,” the doctor backed away from you and made his way back to Jongho.

“W-what?” You were confused and a little frightened, even though you knew better.

“Get out of my fucking house,” he repeated, “unless you having something to offer me I’m not in the mood for guests.”

“Just wait outside, y/n,” Jongho said exasperatedly, “I’ll be done soon.”

You gave him one last look before crossing to the door, dragging your feet over the threshold and onto the small porch. Moths fluttered around the porch light and you could hear insects in the trees behind the road, you sighed deeply as you squatted down, your back against the laminate siding of the mobile home. You reached into your coat pocket for your phone before remembering you left it in the car...the locked car. The key to which was on the dining room table of a man who kicked you out of his house to sit outside alone in the cold. “I’ll never hear the end of this,” you said quietly to whatever creatures were listening in the dark. You should have gone in with no questions asked, no words spoken and stood against the wall quiet until everything was done, but why should you have? You weren’t Jongho’s girlfriend, you weren’t some naive teenager, you were his manager. In technical terms, you were the one in charge, not Jongho, not the sleazy, illegitimate doctor. You contented yourself on the porch for the next few minutes, fuming and running over the various ways you would chew Jongho out when you got in the car in just a few minutes; until the light shut off.

You weren’t sure if it was automatic or if the doctor shut it off purposefully, but regardless of the intent or lack-thereof you were in the dark. Sitting on a strange man’s front porch in a backroads neighborhood with no car keys and no phone. “It’s okay,” you whispered to yourself in reassurance, planting your butt on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest, “it’s already been like fifteen minutes,” you wrapped your arms around your knees. Fuck, it was cold. “Jongho’s probably already done and he’s just talking shit with the doctor.” You could see your breath now that it was dark, the grey clouds of condensation hanging in the air momentarily every time you spoke. You hummed to yourself to keep track of time, going through songs you remembered one by one until seven had passed. “Jongho…” you whined quietly in the dark, “it’s been over twenty minutes, just leave already.” Another seven songs, another twenty minutes. Your heart began to race slightly, blood pressure rising as you wondered why you couldn’t hear anyone talking inside while your brain conjured up countless horrible theories that involved one or both of them being dead. Should you stand up and knock on the door? Should you go inside? You wrapped your arms tighter around your knees, knowing that if you went inside and something had happened to Jongho there would be no way for you to defend yourself. If anything, your best bet was to wait outside until morning and find someone to break into the car, or maybe someone from another house nearby would help you. Your breathing slowed a bit, anxiety evening out as you formulated a plan just in case what you feared came to fruition. You sat there like that for another few minutes, running over new plans and courses of action; managing the situation, even though you usually handled other peoples’ affairs. You were mid brain wrack when the porch light clicked back on and you heard footsteps towards the door, and you unfolded yourself from your position and stood up, preparing yourself to run until you heard Jongho’s voice from the other side of the door.

“There you are,” Jongho hobbled out of the doorway smiling, obviously feeling much better than he had before, “I was getting a little lonely in there without you nagging me every 30 seconds.”

“I just gave him some oxy,” the doctor said to you, pushing Jongho out of the door towards you, “there’s more in his coat to take later, he’s gonna need it.”

“Thanks,” you forced yourself to say, not wanting anything to do with the man who kicked you out of his house in the middle of January, “did he pay you already?”

“Don’t give him anymore,” Jongho put his hand on your shoulder, steadying himself on his feet, “the motherfucker already cheated me out of everything I had.”

“The Blues are gonna kick in soon,” the doctor ignored him and backed up back into his house, “get him in the car before you have to drag him.” The door closed behind you and the light shut off once more, affirming your earlier suspicions that he had deliberately left you in the dark.

Jongho shuffled down the steps and through the dark to the car, head lolling onto your shoulder as you neared the passenger side, “keys?” You lifted your arm to get him upright again.

“In my pocket,” he mumbled, “my arms are asleep.” You reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a handful of assorted pills, but no keys. You sighed and shoved your hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and wrapped your hand around your pepperspay keychain. Almost instantly he shot away from you, eyes wide, “damn, y/n, can’t it wait until we’re in the car? Fuck.”

You scoffed, “here I was thinking it was perfectly acceptable to grab your dick in the middle of this bumfuck neighborhood,” you pretended to aim the pepperspray at his face and lightly smacked his butt, “I’ll just settle for this I guess.”

Giggling, Jongho’s hand came down heavily with your lower back, sending you jolting forward, you pulled the door open for him and rubbed your back with the other, knowing it would bruise, “you missed, you fucking asshole,” you muttered and shoved him into the car.

“I can’t help it baby, I’m high as shit right now.” The drive to Jongho’s apartment was peaceful, primarily because he was knocked out the entire hour and a half. By the time you pulled into a parking space you could see the sunrise peeking through the dark; you unbuckled your seatbelt and rested your head on the steering-wheel, glad to finally have a break. You turned your head to face Jongho who was still asleep, his mouth formed into a pout and his head slumped forward to rest on his chest. Regardless of the narcotics he’d taken, you knew he was exhausted. Normally a fight night ended with him walking home from the gym after splitting the money and you driving safe, comfortable, and a little bit richer to your apartment. You reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out the ziplock bag of cash, you loved this--even if it wasn’t all your money--but the thrill of being able to hold a few hundred (or sometimes a few thousand) dollars every few nights was indescribable.

“Jongho,” you poked his cheek, hoping he’d wake up easily, “Jonghoooo,” you poked him harder, not wanting to have to carry him up the stairs of his apartment.

“Mmmmwhat,” he hummed and peeled his eyelids open.

“We’re at your apartment,” you tucked the money into your coat pocket and reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt, “wake up so you can go to sleep in a real bed.”

Jongho groaned once more in protest, but didn’t press the issue any further, even in his altered state. You were not above leaving him to sleep peacefully on the curb outside his apartment building, and he knew that. You had your arm wrapped around his back once more, but it was mainly to make him feel more emotionally secure as you both stumbled tiredly up the stairs; if he legitimately started to fall backwards there was no way you’d be able to catch him--break his fall, maybe, but you’d rather one of you be seriously injured than both of you.

When you reached his door you punched the code and practically pushed him inside, he uttered some sort of complaint about you knowing his lock-code, but you were too exhausted to open your ears to him anymore.

Arms hanging loosely at his side, he beelined straight to his bed, collapsing onto it with nothing more than a slight squeak of discomfort. You sat on his bed next to him, leaning over to take his shoes off, “you can’t get in bed with shoes on, Jongie,” you smiled at the nickname, knowing that if he was in his right mind he would have thrown a fit hearing you call him that, “that’s gross.” After tossing his shoes out of the room and into the hall, you worked on the rest of his clothes; his shirt was soaked with sweat and some blood, and you cringed at the thought that he had so willingly gotten into bed in them. You made a mental note to remind him to wash his sheets in the morning.

“Take yours off too,” he mumbled and grinned to himself while you pulled on the hem of his shirt, “it’s not fair that I get to be the only naked one in this house right now.”

[spiderman-homecomeme]

day three - the social activist and the arachnid

FAIRY-TALE RETELLING

A/N: DAY THREE IS HERE!!  This fic is based on the popular fairy tale “the Frog Prince”/”the Princess and the Frog.” I have been so excited for this one guys. UNBELIEVABLY EXCITED!!! 

So excited, that my note here is incredibly short!!

Thanks @spideychelleweek​ for organizing this!!

Enjoy 5.4k of dumbassery, mischief, depictions of spiders, superscript font, and Peter Parker sad-eyes

Read here or on AO3

-

The hero sits perched atop a light post, his wide mechanical eyes scanning the peaceful park below him. It’s been hours of waiting and watching (and of stomach-grumbles, a punishment for skipping the lunch his wonderful girlfriend had made for the both of them) and still—nothing. 

No sign yet.

Spider-Man replays the video footage Mr. Stark sent him; a tall figure, dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald green scarf, and a grey coat, smiling mysteriously as he bends to pet a small terrier, skipping rocks on the nearby pond, reading quietly on a bench under the canopy of a large, looming tree. Spidey keeps thinking that there’s some detail that he’s missed, some clue he’s clumsily overlooked. Cursing mentally, he swings to another post, hoping to get a better view of the park… when he sees it.

The flash of dark green wool.

Finally.

He acts quickly, nearly missing the clear shot to the next light pole in his excitement as he flies over. Getting closer, he sees the figure—the figure in question being the elusive God of Mischief himself, Loki—standing there, tossing out food to the ducks gathering around him; apparently just minding his own business, so much so that it gives Peter pause when he goes to confront the god.

Or, maybe, Peter wonders, eyes narrowing, that’s just what Loki wants it to look like. 

Peter jumps down behind him.

“You know you shouldn’t feed them bread,” Spider-Man says, leaning casually against a light post. “It’s basically junk food for them.”

“Oh, this isn’t bread,” Loki answers smoothly. He doesn’t even look up from the overly excited ducks. “It’s Asgardian barley.” Ha informs before tossing another handful of said barley at his feet. The ducks scramble over to him, quarrelling loudly over every grain. Two small, fat drakes begin to fight aggressively, quacking and pecking at the other until the darker colored fowl body slams the other into a tree. 

The tree promptly falls over from the force. Loki turns. “And you are?”

“Sp-Spider-Man. Obviously.”

Loki tilts his head as if he doesn’t recognize the name, as if the very thought of it confuses him.

“And you’re Loki.” 

“Indeed I am.”

A beat passes.

“So…” Peter motions behind him before standing up straighter, arms folding across his chest. “I’m taking you in.”

Loki glances up. His full attention now seems focused on the hero. A light, yet warning laugh escapes him. “Are you now?”

Peter clicks his web shooters. “C’mon, man, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” 

Loki takes a step, turning to face him fully. “I prefer it hard.”

Peter can’t help but think of how proud MJ would be of him for not giggling at that, though there’s nothing he can do to fight the way his mouth cracks into a grin underneath his mask. He just won’t tell her about that part. 

Immediately, Peter tries to web Loki, but the god’s quicker. Loki phases away, the ducks disappearing with him, his entire presence revealed to be an illusion the entire time. Peter curses, mentally kicking himself for falling for one of that guy’s oldest tricks.

Swinging himself to another high point, Peter once again scans the entire park. 

Where did that jerk run off to?

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before he finds Loki again—hopefully the real one this time—buying two ice cream cones at a lone stand. It’s strange for two reasons. One, being that it’s mid-October, so ice cream isn’t really a hot commodity right now; and two,  it almost seems as though Loki’s not even trying to hide from him.

Or, again, perhaps that’s what he wants Spider-Man to think?

Peter shakes his head in an attempt to wipe his etch-a-sketch of a brain. He has a job here, he couldn’t get himself psyched-out. He needs to focus. Without giving himself any more time to actually think about what’s happening, he drops down on the ground, hands placed firmly on his hips.  “How  did you get ice cream?”

Loki doesn’t answer, instead holding the second cone out as he takes a bite of the first one. “One for you. Raisin Rum—or is it Rum Raisin?” He shrugs. “Mmm… my favorite. Most seem to hate it or ignore it but I find it's strange complexities…” He smiles wistfully at the cone.  “Familiar—”

Peter webs the ice cream right out of the god’s hands. 

At first, Loki barely reacts, expression blank as he stares at his cone now covered in dirt and pebbles. The god sighs, shoulders tensing as his mouth twists into a frustrated scowl. 

But then... he starts to laugh, shaking his head, covering his face. 

Peter lets out an uncomfortable, awkward chuckle in an attempt to find the humor in all of this. 

Suddenly, Loki looks up, laughter continuing as he shoots a stinging green spark from up his sleeve. 

Peter’s tingle kicks in, and he’s able to dodge the first shot, and the second, and the third, trying to web the trickster with each graceful dive out of the way. The god’s use of magic is relentless, and it keeps Peter webbing whatever Loki throws at him instead of Loki himself. 

After web-throwing the second park bench in a row, Peter turns, dodging yet another spark. “What are you even—WHOA!” He shouts above the fighting while jumping over a large boulder being hurdled right at him. “What are you even doing here anyway?”

“I enjoy a good park,” Loki says while throwing a newspaper stand. “It helps me relax. It’s been a terribly long day—Then again…” His voice slows, trailing off. “It could have been a week, or maybe a year. What  is  the date, do you know?” He pauses a moment and stares hollowly. 

Peter uses this pause to blast another web at him. 

But Loki seems to slide out of the way, shaking off the melancholy with another mysterious smirk.  “This has been a pleasure, but,” Loki side-steps another web. “I’d like to get back to feeding the ducks, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind!” Peter shouts back, swinging up to the top of the ice cream stand. “Besides... Where did you even get Asgardian barley? Didn’t you and Thor destroy it? And—” He stops, head tilting, eyes narrowing in thought, and he can see by the way Loki tenses that he’s hit a nerve. He keeps going. “Wait you aren’t even from there, right? Aren’t you like… an—an... ice? giant, or something? ”

Loki stops moving instantly, smile morphing into a sinister snarl.

Before Peter can even think up a Frozen joke (he knows there’s something about Elsa and cold and snowmen in there), Loki casts a large blob of green energy right at him.

He leaps into the air in an attempt to dodge the strange mass, but it follows, trailing after him no matter how much he turns and twists. “What even  is  this?” Peter shouts as he makes an arching swing up and away from the now fuming god. He takes a chance and glances over at the trickster; and that’s when he’s struck by two things. 

The first; that Loki no longer seems to be genuinely enjoying their battle.

And the second?

Well…

The second is the green blob.

Wait! Got it!

“Hey, Elsa, just Let it Go —”

Before he can even be the slightest bit disappointed in himself for that low-hanging-fruit of a joke, he feels a stinging warmth, the world around him going a blinding shade of white. The feeling lasts only a second, followed by a loud  pop . Suddenly, he’s plummeting to the ground below. He tries to click at his webshooters, but he finds that he can’t move his arms. He tries to jump, but he can no longer feel his legs. He braces himself, ready for a crash, when he lands gently on the soft dirt below. 

Something feels… off. 

He tries to get up, standing on shaky legs, though he finds that he’s still incredibly close to the ground. But… Instead of the normal two legs he usually has, he feels eight. He can see everything around him without turning his head, as if there’s eyes all over. Panic starts to set in, and he scrambles to a puddle to look at his reflection. 

Eight buggy eyes stare back at him. His once baby-faced—well… face  —is no longer human, now covered in tiny, pointy red and blue hairs. At the sight of himself, he lets out the tiniest, quietest scream—one that immediately reminds him of that part in  The Emperor's New Groove where Yzma turns into a cat—octaves and leaps above his normal speaking tone as he jumps away. 

“There!” Loki brushes his hands together, clearly satisfied with himself.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴰᴵᴰ ʸᴼᵁ ᴰᴼ ᵀᴼ ᴹᴱˀˀ” Tiny, spider-Peter demands. He coughs, clearing his throat, an almost whiny noise. “ᴵˢ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᴹʸ ⱽᴼᴵᶜᴱˀˀ”

“I think your name is much more fitting now. Wouldn’t you agree?” Loki asks as a smirk returns to his face. 

“ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ—ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ ᴹᴱ ᴮᴬᶜᴷᵎᵎ” Little Peter growls in his new chipmunk voice.

“Oh, I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, my little spider friend,” Loki says with a faux-disappointed shake of his head. 

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴴᴱᴸᴸ ᴵˢ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ˢᵁᴾᴾᴼˢᴱᴰ ᵀᴼ ᴹᴱᴬᴺˀˀ”

But Loki doesn’t say anything else. He vanishes with a sneaky grin, leaving Peter in a cloud of dramatic green smoke. 

“ʸᴼᵁ’ᴸᴸ ᴮᴱ ˢᴼᴿᴿʸ ʸᴼᵁ ᵀᵂᴼ⁻ᶠᴬᶜᴱᴰ ˢᴼᴺ ᴼᶠ ᴬ—” Peter’s vow of vengeance is cut short as he starts to have a crisis, of course. Anyone would if they were suddenly turned into an actual, honest-to-god spider. He has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do, or how long this is supposed to last. 

He stays in the park for God knows how much longer. 

He feels lost and utterly alone. 

What did Loki mean? How is Peter supposed to change back? What is it going to take? An epic journey? Is it on some kind of timer? Does he need to get some ingredients together for a magic potion and then drink it?

His head swims, nearly drowning at every little possibility. 

It’s overwhelming, truly. Everything around him is a million times bigger than it normally is. What if someone steps on him? What if someone captures him? What if a little kid finds him and picks him up and takes him home? Is he doomed to be someone’s house pet the rest of his sad life? Could he even survive life as a spider? He wasn’t about to start eating bugs, not today!

Truly, he has no absolutely no clue where to ever start. He stands in the park for what feels like a whole eternity. If he had teeth, they’d probably be chattering right about now. 

But then, there’s a glimmer of hope. It starts in the back of his mind, and he’s surprised he didn’t just think of it sooner. He thinks of the one place, the one person that might be able to help him. 

And happens to be the one place that’s close to this park.

His wonderful, patient, hilarious-in-kind-of-a-dark-way genius girlfriend. If anyone would know what to do, or at least have a vague inclination of an idea, it’d be MJ. 

So, he starts his journey, which proves to be significantly harder when he can’t just swing there. Sure, he’s got eight legs now instead of two, but he’s a lot  smaller than he normally is. It takes time to cover the amount of ground it takes to get to MJ’s apartment. 

Just walking across the park has already taken over half-an-hour.

But dammit, he’s going to try. That’s not going to stop him.

It ends up taking him the entire afternoon and early evening to get there. An entire afternoon of dodging much larger humans, dogs and cats, and not to mention other spiders. His tiny heart fillsfilled with tiny relief when he comes upon the large brick building. It takes him even longer to climb up to her sixth-floor window, and then to just find his way in without opposable thumbs. 

Luckily, MJ’s cracked her window, and though that’d normally be strange for the time of year, Peter doesn’t question it. In fact, it’s perfectly normal for her. He crawls in, his excitement getting the best of him as he notices MJ in her bed, snuggled under a blanket as she reads a book. 

Perfect.

He has to get to her somehow, to let her know what’s going on. She’ll know what to do. 

All he has to do is figure out how to get her attention.

He makes his way to the ceiling above the window, watching her from above and across the room. He tries to call out to her, but his voice is too high and too quiet for her to hear him from so far away. 

It’s the slightest bit discouraging; he’s going to have to find another way. Then, inspiration strikes him, and he eagerly starts climbing the wall. He’s done this before, as normal, human-sized Spider-Man. 

Just drop down, say hi, she helps him figure shit out. It’s perfect!

What could possibly go wrong?

But perhaps he’s too eager as he races across the ceiling as fast as his eight little legs can carry him.

Maybe if he had waited, he would’ve been able to see that this wasn’t the best way to go about getting her attention. To him, there just isn’t time for something like rational thought and common sense. Instead, he just goes for it, not stopping to think if this was a good idea before lowering himself down on a single, fine thread. 

MJ likes spiders—and not just the  Peter variety —he reasons. He’s seen her oo and aw over the little guys and gals that find themselves in her path. If she sees one in her room, she always scoops it out with a cup, humanely putting it back outside into its natural habitat.  

She loves spiders!

Sure, why would she be the kind of person that freaks out when one just shows up right in front of her face?

Finally, he manages to lower himself to her level, making his eyes as big and as round as possible, before clearing his throat. 

She still doesn’t seem to hear. 

He swings forward a bit, hoping that he can just… brush her nose with his front two feet. 

His two front feet touch the very tip of her nose for a split-second and—in an instant—she looks up, eyes going wide as she jumps with a start. Letting out a high-pitched, squeamish yelp, she smacks him with her book. 

She doesn’t hear his tiny, baby-ish scream as he’s hurled across the room.

He scrambles away, hiding behind her bookcase as she leaps from her bed, yanking the covers off of her. She shudders, shaking her head as she takes a moment to look around the room, running her hands roughly over her hair and face, checking for more creepy crawlies. 

His heart—now in his gut—pumps erratically as he waits for her next move. A moment passes before she leaves, her book in hand, inadvertently slamming the door behind her as she rushes out. He waits another moment before moving again, going to the top corner of her room, diagonally across from her bed, so he can be  just  visible.

Well, that didn’t go well at all. 

He starts pacing along the ceiling, and he wonders if he should even try anything else at this point or just wait it out. 

Or… spend the rest of his life as a spider.

Find that kid in the street who’s always had a weird love for bugs. Go home with them. Live the life of a pet arachnid.

He’s almost accepted that fate when… another golden idea strikes him. 

He starts the long process of making a web, something that surprisingly comes natural to him in this form. This is something he’s done miiiiillions of times before, but like, a thousand percent bigger. It’s just… tiny now. 

And the webs come out of his butt instead of one of the webshooters on his wrists. 

But it’s essentially the same thing, right?

He jumps from between the two walls and ceiling, hastily putting together something he can rest on. When he’s done, he makes a large M, followed by an even larger, a little bit more janky, J. 

It worked for Charlotte, so why wouldn’t it work for him?

It seems like a solid form of communication between spider and human.

What seems to be hours after the sun has set, he finally finishes. Crawling to the middle of the ceiling to get a good view of his handy work, he sighs, thinking how Charlotte made it so easy—and she was writing more than two letters—before really taking it in. With frustration, he realizes that even  he  can’t read it. The silk is much too thin—nothing like his synthetic webbing—and he can only see the  beginnings  of the makings of letters—and that’s only if he can get in the right light. 

There was no way MJ—the human here—would be able to see it.

Nerves set in once again when he realizes that he’ll just have to try talking to her again.

It’s the only way. 

And so he waits; waits on her bedside table, behind the framed picture of them from a school dance last year. 

He’s there. Watching. Waiting to strike, his little legs curled up in anticipation.

It feels like it’s almost been another hour before he hears the gentle click of her bedroom door again. She sneaks in, a blanket preemptively wrapped around her shoulders, and glances warily around the room, as anyone would do after seeing a spider so suddenly. 

With another shudder, she scurries over to her window, shutting it, before plopping down onto her bed, sitting back against the pillows as she pulls her book out from under her blanket-cape. 

He waits a few minutes, giving her a chance to relax again, before he strikes. 

“ᴹᴶ.” He whispers, voice high and whiny, jumping out from behind the picture before retreating back in. 

Once again, she doesn’t hear him.

He’ll have to do better than that.

“ᴹᴶᵎ” He says a little louder, hiding behind his front two legs. 

Knowing he has to get just the tiniest bit closer, he crawls up onto her pillow, just behind her head, and tries again. “ᴹᴶᵎ!” he shouts as best he can.

This time she perks up, brows scrunched together as she lowers the book into her lap. She pauses, listening, before sitting back against her pillow, Peter almost falling off of it at the movement.

He takes a deep breath in, steeling himself as he lets out the loudest one yet, right in her ear. “ᴹᴶᵎᵎᵎᵎᵎ” 

She glances behind her to the source of the sound, jumping and shrieking again when she sees him. But this time, she’s more prepared. She grabs a plastic cup from her dresser, ready to catch him. 

He’s fast, but not fast enough as he scrambles up her desk, and she catches him without much struggle. 

“HA!” MJ shouts. “Gotcha!” 

“ᴹᴶᵎ ᴹᴶᵎ ᴹᴶᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴹᴱᵎᵎ” He screams as she lowers herself to his level. “ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴾᴱᵀᴱᴿᵎᵎ”

She freezes, eyes widening as she looks at her catch. “...Peter?”

“ʸᴱˢᵎᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴹᴱᵎ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴾᴱᵀᴱᴿᵎ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴮᴼʸᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰᵎᵎ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ᴼᶠ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴸᴵᶠᴱ ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱᴰᴼᴺ'ᵀᴴᵁᴿᵀᴹᴱᵎᵎ ”

And for a beat, she can only stare at him, mouth hanging open in confusion. She rubs at her eyes, perhaps wondering if she’s dreaming. “What—what happened to you?” She asks incredulously, though she keeps her hand on top of the cup.

“ᴸᴼᴷᴵ ᴴᴬᴾᴾᴱᴺᴱᴰᵎ” Peter whines, warbling voice echoing in his plastic prison. “ᴴᴱ ᵀᵁᴿᴺᴱᴰ ᴹᴱ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿᵎ”

“I can see that.” She replies, eyes wide as she cautiously lifts the cup from around him, putting it aside as she kneels to his height. Her brow pinches together as she stares at him, the corner of her lip pulled back in what he’s pretty sure is a form of mild disgust. 

“ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ.” Peter begs, all eight eyes wide and sad and—if they could be—full of tears.

MJ jerks her head back, still maintaining some form of distance. “Well… What do you want me to do?”

“ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ˢᴹᴬᴿᵀᵎ” Peter reasons, legs tapping sporadically as he moves closer to the edge of the desk, following her. “ᴵ'ᴹ ᴬ ᴰᵁᴹᴮᴬˢˢ. ᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᴼᴺ, ʸᴼᵁ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴰᴿᴵᴸᴸ.” 

MJ stares blankly at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “You’ve gotta have some idea, man.”

“ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ…” Peter wonders aloud. “ᴴᴹᴹ... ᴺᴼ... ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵂᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᴺᴱⱽᴱᴿ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ... ᴰᴬᴹᴺ ᴵᵀ, ᴸᴼᴷᴵᵎᵎ”

It’s then he notices the upward quirk of MJ’s lips, the way she presses them together, the slight tremor as if holding back a loud laugh.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀ” He demands, his little spider eyes narrowing up at her.

“Nothing!” She swears. “Nothing at all.” And for a moment, she seems to hold herself together, but another second passes, and she can’t hold it in any more. She snorts, letting out a single guffaw when he taps his foot impatiently. “Just… your voice…”

He rolls his eyes. 

“It’s just… It’s ridiculous.”

“ᴹᴶ, ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ. ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᴵˢ ˢᴱᴿᴵᴼᵁˢ.”

She nods, biting back the grin with all of her might. “Oh, definitely. Yeah. Very serious. My bad.”

Peter huffs, once again starting to pace around the desk. Another bout of silence falls between them as they sit there, both of them deep in thought. 

And for the third time that day, Peter is hit by another golden, shining, A+, fool-proof idea.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴵᶠ ʸᴼᵁ ᴷᴵˢˢ ᴹᴱˀ”

At that, she blurts out in disgusted laughter, taking a solid thirty seconds to bring herself back down. “Absolutely not. No way,” she says, though it’s distorted under another bubbling laugh.

“ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀ” Peter balks, seemingly very offended that his girlfriend wouldn’t kiss him while in real-spider form. “ᵂᴴʸˀˀ”

MJ glances from side to side, as if the answer’s stupidly obvious (it is). “Um, well, for one, you’re an actual spider right now.”

If Peter could, he would absolutely be pouting. “ᴮᵁᵀ ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴵᶠ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴼᴺᴸʸ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᶜᴬᴺ ᶜᴴᴬᴺᴳᴱ ᴹᴱ ᴮᴬᶜᴷˀˀ”

“Where did you even come up with that?”

“ᵁᴴ ᴴᴱᴸᴸᴼˀ ᴱⱽᴱᴿ ˢᴱᴱᴺ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱˢˢ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴿᴼᴳˀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴿᴼᴳ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱˀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᶜᴱ ᵀᵁᴿᴺˢ ᴮᴬᶜᴷ ᵀᴼ ᴺᴼᴿᴹᴬᴸ ᶠᴿᴼᴹ ᴬ ᵀᴿᵁᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ'ˢ ᴷᴵˢˢᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ˢᴵᴹᴾᴸᴱᵎ”

“Peter, that’s just a dumb story.”

"ʸᴼᵁ ᴺᴱⱽᴱᴿ ᴷᴺᴼᵂᵎ"

“Or, I could just throw you against the wall like the princess does in the Grimm version.”

"ᴹᴶ, ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ ᴶᵁˢᵀ—"

“That’s so gross. And stupid.” MJ sits there, her tone incredulous as she has to explain to her boyfriend why she won’t kiss a spider. “I’m sure there’s another, more realistic way. Like… I don’t know… finding Loki again and having him reverse it?”

"ᴴᴱ ˢᴬᴵᴰ ᴵᵀ ᵂᴬˢᴺ'ᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ˢᴵᴹᴾᴸᴱᵎ" Peter whines. “ᴬᴺᴰ... ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴷ ᴬᴮᴼᵁᵀ ᴵᵀᵎ ᴬ ᵀᴿᵁᴱ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ'ˢ ᴷᴵˢˢˀˀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ˢᴼ ᴰᴿᴬᴹᴬᵀᴵᶜᵎ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᵁᴾ ᴸᴼᴷᴵ'ˢ ᴬᴸᴸᴱʸᵎᵎ"

She purses her lips, eyes narrowing. He has a point.

“ᴾᴸᴱᴬˢᴱ, ᴹᴶˀ ᴴᴱᴸᴾ ᴹᴱᴱᴱᴱᴱᴱ.” Peter looks up at her with pleading, big, round, eight unblinking eyes. “ᴬᵀ ᴸᴱᴬˢᵀ ᵀᴿʸᵎ ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴵᴹᴬᴳᴵᴺᴱ ᴵ'ᴹ ˢᵀᴵᴸᴸ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴴᵁᴺᴷʸ, ᵂᴵᶜᴷᴱᴰᴸʸ ᴴᴬᴺᴰˢᴼᴹᴱ ᴮᴼʸᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ʸᴼᵁ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ˢᴼ ᴹᵁᶜᴴ.”

MJ groans before conceding, bracing herself. “God, you are  so lucky  I love your stupid ass.”

“ʸᴬʸᵎᵎᵎᵎᵎ” Little spider-Peter spins around happily, throwing two of his legs up in the air in celebration. 

“If this doesn’t work, I’m flushing you down the toilet.”

A beat passes. MJ stares down at him, lips pursed as she tries to think the best way to go about this. It’s almost best to just get it done, she decides. Like a band-aid. Quick, although not necessarily painless. Letting out a shaky, nauseated breath she sinks to his level, the whole time muttering words of encouragement to herself. 

Peter scrambles to the edge of the desk, closer to her, attempting to smooth out his stick-straight hair with his fourth leg. 

MJ gags. 

“ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᶦᵗ, ᵇᵃᵇᵉᵎ” Peter cheers.

“God, shut up.” 

She leans down, lips puckered, but she makes the mistake of cracking one of her eyes open before she sticks the landing. With a shudder, she shrinks away. 

“ᴵ ᴮᴱᴸᴵᴱⱽᴱ ᴵᴺ ʸᴼᵁᵎ”

Again, MJ shivers in disgust. “Just one kiss, right?”

“ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴼᴺᴱ.” Peter promises, though his tone turns alarmingly flirty. “ᵁᴺᴸᴱˢˢ ʸᴼᵁ ᴮᴱᴳ ᶠᴼᴿ ᴹᴼᴿᴱ.” He follows that comment with what she can only assume is the spider version of a playful wink. 

And once again, she gags.

Peter sheepishly steps back. “ˢᴼᴿᴿʸ...”

She doesn’t even give a response as she squeezes her eyes shut, covering them with a hand just to be safe, and she lowers herself once again. Both of them hold their breath, bracing for impact. It’s almost too quick for him to notice, the pressing of her lips to his tiny, hairy, wriggly body. Jumping back the second she plants the tight-lipped kiss, she doesn’t linger at all, trying her best to hold back her dramatic retching.

Another beat passes between them. 

And unsurprisingly…

It’s an empty one.

Nothing happens. 

At all. 

Peter is still very much a spider. 

“ᴰᴬᴹᴺ, ᴵ ᴿᴱᴬᴸᴸʸ ᵀᴴᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵂᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ...” He curses. 

“Excuse  me?” MJ seethes, furiously wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What  part  of that did you possibly think was gonna work?”

“ᴼᴴ, ᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᴼᴺ, ᴹᴶ,” Peter reasons, shying away from her. “ᴵᵀ ᵂᴬˢᴺ'ᵀ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᴮᴬᴰᵎ”

“Maybe for you!” She argues, another shudder rippling through her. “You weren’t the one that had to kiss a fucking spider!!”

“ᴼᴴ ˢᴼ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴶᵁˢᵀ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿ ᴺᴼᵂˀᵎ”

“Yes!!” MJ shouts before bringing both hands to grab at her own hair, feeling as if she might be going crazy. “You are  literally  a spider right now!!”

“ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴼᴺᴱ ᵂᴴᴼ ᴳᴼᵀ ᵀᵁᴿᴺᴱᴰ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴬ ˢᴾᴵᴰᴱᴿᵎ ᴬᴺᴰ ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᴴᴱᴸᴾᴵᴺᴳ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ʸᴼᵁᴿ ᴬᴺᵀᴵ⁻ᴬᴿᴬᶜᴴᴺᴵᴰ ᴾᴿᴱᴶᵁᴰᴵᶜᴱˢᵎᵎ” 

“Are you for real right now?” MJ deadpans at him, absolutely fuming underneath the blank expression. 

Peter falters under her gaze. "...ᵁᴴ, ʸᴱᴬᴴ...ˀ" He mumbles as he looks down, sheepishly using one of his feet to draw invisible circles into the top of her desk. "ᴹᴬʸᴮᴱ... ᴹᴬʸᴮᴱ ᴵᵀ ᴰᴵᴰᴺ'ᵀ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ... ᴮᴱᶜᴬᵁˢᴱ... ᴮᴱᶜᴬᵁˢᴱ ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴼᵀ ᴿᴱᴬᴸᴸʸ ᴵᴺ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᴹᴱᵎᵎᵎ" He accuses.

And again, MJ only stares at him. “You’re serious?”

"ᴵ ᴰᴼᴺ'ᵀ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ, ᴹᴶ... ʸᴼᵁ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᴹᴱᵎ"

“That doesn’t even make any sense!!” MJ groans in exasperation, her hands covering her eyes. “God, you’re such an idiot.”

Peter gives a sassy, “ᴴᵁᴹᴾᴴᵎ” before turning around. 

“Do you honestly think I don’t love you after that? Peter,” MJ reaches out, gently nudging him with her finger, turning him to face her. She holds her hand open, inviting him to crawl onto her palm. “I just  kissed  you. As a spider.”

Peter’s quiet for a moment, again looking down. "ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ... ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ..." 

“I love you, you dork. Even as a creepy, gross spider.” 

"ᴵ ᴸᴼⱽᴱ ʸᴼᵁ, ᵀᴼᴼ, ᴹᴶ." And if Peter could blush, he absolutely would. 

“Now,” MJ starts, standing up from her place, grabbing the cup that had captured him just moments earlier. “Let’s go find Loki.”

They leave her apartment, ordering an Uber on the way out. The first place they check is the very park Loki and Peter fought in earlier, but there’s no luck there. The whole place is empty, save for the random passerby walking their dog. 

The next is the Sanctum Sanctorum, hoping that maybe Dr. Strange might have a lead. 

Which he doesn’t. 

Though he does offer that Loki’s still in this universe, which… proves to be both helpful and not helpful. 

Peter almost begins to lose hope, wondering if there’s a way he can just summon the god of Mischief, when MJ suggests they just go to the Avengers compound. If anyone can find Loki, or at least have a better lead on him, she reasons, it’s one of those guys. 

MJ’s sitting in the back of the same, ever so patient Uber, Peter underneath a cup and on top of a piece of paper in her lap. She looks down at him, her gaze calculating as she examines the tiny spider. Tilting her head, her face briefly twists into a thoughtful expression. “You know,” she starts, unable to look away from his big buggy eyes and his little, fuzzy legs. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

Peter stares blankly up at her, one of his middle legs coming forward to wipe across his eyes. 

“Nevermind.”

--

When they get to the Avengers compound, and after MJ leaves a lofty tip and an apologetic look, they go inside. 

Everyone’s of course confused when MJ just walks in holding a spider in a cup, but they’re given enough time for Peter to explain the whole situation. It takes a solid minute-and-a-half for Tony to stop laughing before he calls out to FRIDAY. 

“FRIDAY, can you have someone bring our friend Mr. Loki out?”

The mechanical voice promptly replies. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

"ᵂᵃᶦᵗ ᵂᴴᴬᵀˀˀ" Peter’s shout is just barely heard, but it still gets a not-well-disguised snicker out of Tony. "ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᵀᴱᴸᴸᴵᴺᴳ ᴹᴱ ᴴᴱ'ˢ ᴮᴱᴱᴺ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ  ᵀᴴᴱ ᵂᴴᴼᴸᴱ ᵀᴵᴹᴱˀˀ"

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with an air of nonchalance. “Kamala brought him in. Apparently, after your little slap fight in the park, she found him in some art gallery looking sad—the usual, I guess—she convinced him to turn himself in, yada yada yada. It was all pretty simple.”

"ᴬᴺᴰ ᴺᴼ ᴼᴺᴱ ᵀᴴᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴼ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᴹᴱˀᵎ" Peter stomps around angrily in his cup.

“Well, you’re a spider now,” Sam cuts in, shrugging. “Couldn’t use the phone.”

Peter turns around, facing his back to everyone with a scoff. 

The doors whoosh open and the devil himself walks through, not even trying to hide his mischievous smirk. “Ah, Spider-Man,” He says smoothly. “Nice to see you again. Have you been having fun?”

"ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴸᵁᶜᴷʸ ᴵ'ᴹ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᶜᵁᴾ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᴺᴼᵂᵎᵎ" Peter snaps. "ᴵ ˢᵂᴱᴬᴿ, ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᴵ ᴳᴱᵀ ᴼᵁᵀᵀᴬ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ—"

“Please, Loki,” MJ pleads sarcastically, effectively cutting Peter’s empty threats off. “Change him back? Pete says I have some anti-arachnid prejudices, and he may be right, because I don’t really want to keep dating an actual spider.”

Tony starts laughing again, and he keeps laughing even when tiny spider-Peter shoots him a heated glare. 

Loki sighs and shakes his head. “I am truly, incredibly sorry,” His expression is wrought with the deepest sympathy as he starts walking past them to look out the window. He faces away from them, eyes empty and sad as he gazes out into the inky black night. “The only thing that can reverse this spell is…” He pauses, looking back at them, brows pinched together. “Is a true love’s kiss.”

Everyone stares at him with wide eyes. The room is deathly quiet. 

Peter and MJ exchange horrified glances.

But then Loki breaks, and through his intense laughter he concedes, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Oh, you should have seen your faces!”

Everyone seems to laugh at that as well, though some aren’t sure whether or not it was actually funny. 

And then, casting a green spark at Peter, Loki turns him back into a human. 

Peter’s struck by that same blinding light and tingling feeling, and with a  pop, he’s back to normal, his arms wrapped around MJ’s neck as she holds him bridal style. The cup that was once containing him sits on his head for a second before tumbling to the ground. He steps down from her arms, his own hands patting his chest, his legs, his arms, his face, making sure it’s all there. 

He finally smiles, surprised expression turning to one of pure excitement and relief. He turns to his wonderful, smart, genius girlfriend. “MJ! It’s me!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. I know, you loser.” 

He pulls her into a strong embrace, picking her up and spinning her around. “It’s been so long,” he murmurs. 

“You were a spider for ten hours.”

They both pull back, and he stares deeply into her eyes. “Ten hours too long.”

“Shut up,” she teases, shutting him up with a sound, real kiss. 

When they part, there’s a thoughtful expression on her face; her brow furrowed, head titling slightly. 

“What?” Peter asks.

MJ shakes her head, and her smile returns, though her eyes remain calculating. “Nothing,” she replies. “Just…” She looks at him for a little longer, affectionately running her hand over the side of his face, along his jaw, finally stopping to cup his chin. 

She smiles. 

“I think you had more facial hair as a spider.”