#fuzzy mud

[valewritessss]

I don’t give a fuck about walking into the kids section of the bookstore. If I want to find my percy jackson books I’m going to do so with zero shame because these little gremlins don’t appreciate the place like I do

[yagurlhere]

If you know this book I love you.

[sanguine-squid]

literally drawing him dude

[flowerbloom-arts]

Local middle aged dog man gets inebriated, still loves wife a usual amount.

[timelessxmemories]

.

[spaaceeboyy]

in the tags put your favorite author and two of their books you like, i’m curious

[marmotsomsierost]

The secret boss of the household, the stealthily large and not so stealthily fuzzy Jayne!cat.

The grumpy old man himself, lord of the floof, lover of mud puddles and estuary funk but hater of The Dread Indoor Wet; devourer of bell peppers and sugarsnap peas; the forever beloved Nanuq.

"What's loved, lives." (Diane Duane, So You Want To Be A Wizard)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Breeding Habits of the Common Mothman

Kinktober Day 4: Oviposition

Mothman Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, oviposition, stalking, kidnapping, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, sweet delusional yandere

Word Count: 526

(This wasn't beta read and I kinda rushed, sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy it!)

On your back with your legs resting on his fuzzy shoulders. Large red eyes staring hungrily into your fearful ones. Pleasure started to overtake the initial panic as his cock plowed you with lewd squelching noises for the whole forest to hear.

How did you find yourself in this situation? 

You were a park ranger. Your duties centered around keeping the forest safe. Mostly, this meant picking up litter, monitoring wildlife, preventing poaching, and a lot of keeping drunk fools from hurting themselves or lighting the forest ablaze.

It also meant being spied on by the mothmen. One in particular became fascinated with you, their leader.

He found himself spending most of his days watching you care for the forest, tending to it so diligently, defending it, and the creatures it housed. Fascination turned into obsession. You felt like something was watching you but dismissed it. There were plenty of animals in the woods. 

The mothman began fantasizing more and more about you having a belly fully of his eggs. He could no longer control himself. His dreams had to be a reality!

He was positive you would respond positively to him. Who would not want to have a nice big mate to protect them? He could help you protect the forest so you would have time to rest and breed lots and lots!

And that's how you ended up whisked away, taken into the pocket dimension of the mothmen. 

You kicked and screamed, but he didn't let go. He trilled and cooed to calm you as best he could. His poor mate was scared. 

He sat you down in his hovel, a hut made of silk, moss, mud, and branches. You were still scared, so he showed you his huge cock. He was very proud of it. Surely, seeing his wonderfully large mating tool would show that he was not a threat and merely intended to breed with you! What mate wouldn't be excited to have such a nice cock inside of them?

It seemed to just frighten you more, though. Did you not know what it was for? He supposed it looked different from a human's. Much larger, slimy, tapered, and normally sheathed. Or maybe you had never mated before and were nervous.

Either way, it was okay. He would show his darling human what it was for. You tried resisting him, your hands pressing against the soft, thick fur covering his hard abs. 

The mothman definitely showed you what it was for.

He cooed and trilled and hummed, praising you for taking his cock so well. Your toes curled, and eyes rolled back into your head as he slowly bred you over and over and over. Each of his orgasms deposited more and more of his eggs deeply into you.

You were such a perfect incubator! A nice, warm place for his eggs to hatch. With your caring and protective nature regarding nature, he was sure you would make an amazing parent. 

You seemed to enjoy his cock so much he let you fall asleep while warming it for him. He nuzzled, cuddled, and willed you to have sweet dreams as you rested. 

[loveinhawkins]

When Steve picks up the phone, he can hear Eddie laughing before he’s even said a word.

“What?” Steve says through a smile; he’s used to this now, phone calls that happen for no real reason. Robin had gotten him well and truly accustomed to it: months of rambling conversations—with occasional interjections from Mr Buckley, chuckling as he warned Robin that she was gonna trip over the cord.

“I need your help,” Eddie says, amusement still evident in his voice, “it’s to win an argument.”

“Oh, is that all I am to you?” Steve acts like he’s going to hang up, covering the receiver with his hand so it sounds muffled.

“No, no!” Eddie’s laughing again. “Don’t go.”

Steve removes his hand, his smile growing. “All right, jeez. What’s up?”

“Okay, back me up here ‘cause Dustin and Lucas did not believe me. There was—we had an old gym teacher, right? He, like, towered above us, man, had a moustache, like what do you call it when it’s all—”

Steve feels another wave of affection; he knows that Eddie will be unconsciously demonstrating what the moustache looks like, despite the fact that they can’t see each other.

“—uh, bristly, you know what I—?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Mr Wilson. Didn’t he leave a couple years ago? Super mean for no reason, dude had a stick up his—”

“Yes!” Eddie crows in triumph. “I knew you’d remember, I knew it.”

Steve shakes his head fondly—Eddie’s making it sound far more impressive than it actually is, like he’s just sunk the winning shot or something. Like Eddie has an unshakeable belief in him.

“God, he was the worst. He was the one that was obsessed with cross-country, right—”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, yeah,” Eddie says. “It was actually scary. I swear he got some kinda evil kick out of it whenever it rained, like he’d hope we drowned out there or—”

Steve makes a vague hum of agreement; there’s a flash of the familiar in Eddie’s words, the memory of mud and rain against his skin. And…

“Shit, didn’t you…? Did you fall one time, I remember you limping?”

Steve’s recollection of it is fuzzy—like a lot of things were in the winter of ‘84—but as he talks, the more he grows certain; it makes sense of a momentary instinct he’d had in The Upside Down, as the earth shook: seeing Eddie fall out the corner of his eye, and suddenly wanting to check whether he rolled his ankle.

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie chuckles slightly—there’s a thread of embarrassment in the sound. Didn’t think—um, sorta hoped you wouldn’t remember that, honestly.”

“I don’t really,” Steve says, then winces. “That sounds bad. I just meant—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie says. Steve can hear how he’s smiling. “Better for my ego this way.” He pauses. “You were really sweet about it at the time.”

He moves on quickly—Steve knows that’s partly just Eddie being himself, how he joyfully leaps from one topic to the next. But he doesn’t think he’s imagining the flicker of something shy, the softness in Eddie’s voice, you were really sweet about it.

Steve makes sure to commit it to memory.

[pseudowho]

"Why are we going to a scare trail, when you scream if a pan falls out of the cupboard?"

Kento grumbled, cosy in his cream turtleneck and teal overcoat. You preened, pressing the lids onto your travel mugs, and leaning up to nuzzle the shell of his ear.

"Because it's fun, you grumpy old goat. Come on. I need protection."

"You need sectioning, perhaps," Kento scoffed, opening the car door for you, "or the public needs protection from you." Kento shifted into gear, reversing with his arm behind your seat. You stroked a hand over his thigh.

"Well, you can be my supervisor then...sir."

Kento coughed, stalling the car at the turn, and grasping your hand with a warning glare.

"Don't. You know what that does to me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Clearly, the gates of hell had been opened into the other end of the Funfair. The screams were not ones of delight.

But, at the entrance, autumn leafcrunch and early chill, swirled with wood fires and yakitori and street food, spicing the crowds with orange and gold. You tucked your arm into Kento's, as if an old married couple, and squelched through the mud to your destination.

Kento grimaced up at the entrance, opening his mouth to speak, before you interrupted.

"I heard they used pig's blood. Not fake blood."

"That is grotesquely unsanitary--"

"--come on, let's queue up--"

"--I should report them to the Health and Safety executives--"

"Shhh, sh sh sh, come on now...there. Lovely."

Bouncing on your tiptoes in the queue, Kento shot you a wary sideways glance, speaking slowly, testing every word.

"I...am perfectly serious, though. You don't usually tolerate frights like this very well. Despite your profession. Always something I found...odd."

You sighed, shrugging. "Just...an overactive imagination, I think. There's something thrilling about being scared but safe. A luxury that work doesn't give us."

Kento was quiet, looking pensively into the Horror Maze, while you allowed a zombie bride to scan your entry passes. "Yes...that makes sense."

Kento was absolutely right, as you headed in. Within minutes, you were rendered useless, in a maze of bloodstained walls and cells-- some crude, tasteless attempt at an insane asylum.

And Kento remained...utterly unshaken. Not a hair out of place. Not even a flinch. Just his usual flat boredom, and irritated rumbles.

'Patients', 'doctors', 'nurses' and 'orderlies' in various states of grisly disrepair, chased you through corridors, backed you into cells, and rattled bars at you until you clung to Kento like a baby monkey.

Neither of you noticed how one of the doctors you passed turned to look at your retreating backs, tufts of fuzzy peach hair peeking out from under his surgical cap and goggles.

"Does nothing scare you?!" You demanded of Kento, squealing like a little girl as a 'doctor' tried to strap you to his table. Lifting you to safety by your waist, and tutting at the perturbed 'doctor', who sagged, put-out, Kento replied, solemn.

"Perhaps my fears are a little more abstract." You almost laughed as an approaching 'nurse' cringed away at Kento's devastatingly withering look.

It was only when you were both chased through a corridor by a horde of screaming visitors and 'patients', that you and Kento became separated. Your adrenaline felt less fun with Kento's absence, and you backed against a black curtain, your heart pumping rapidly souring blood to your limbs.

"Kento!" You called, your voice pitched and rising, "Kent--ooooooh!"

You were yanked back through the black curtain, your sobs muffled beneath a thick brown glove, and your assailant was quick to reassure you. He lifted his goggles and lowered his mask to grin at you, sweet and sunny.

"Hey! Mrs.Nanamin! It's just me."

You melted with relief, sniffling, "Oh my god-- Yuuji-- what are you doing here--"

"Ahhh, just tryna earn some extra cash. I saw where Nanamin went, want to go catch u--"

"No! Wait...Yuuji. Help me scare him."

Yuuji faltered, blinking. "What? Scare Nanamin?" Yuuji pondered, pinching his chin in thought. Eventually, he shook his head, smirking. "Nah. Nothing scares him."

You puffed your cheeks out, shaking your head. Peeking out from behind the curtain and surveying the carnage the actors wreaked upon the screaming visitors, you shook your head.

"Nope. I insist. Let's scare my husband. We'll find something-- anything."

And so, at your insistence, you and Yuuji staggered through a montage of terrific failures.

You locked Kento in a dark room, and he only hummed in minor irritation as a hissing, ragged contortionist spidered out of an impossibly tight chest. He kicked the door open, and held it open for the bewildered contortionist to leave first; "After you."

Yuuji manipulated Kento down a corridor with naught but increasingly unsettling nursery rhymes and crayon monstrosities on the walls. Kento found the radio, switched it off, and gave the crayon-marked wallpaper a despairing side-eye. He tried to scratch some crayon off, grimacing in dismay.

You encouraged a 'nurse' to spill a bag of 'blood' over Kento; he performed exquisite manoeuvres to save his coat, before sternly berating her-- "I'd rather not explain that to the dry cleaners, thank you."

Eventually, leaning back on a rickety wooden railing on a platform above the exit, you and Yuuji admitted defeat. Yuuji rubbed your shoulder in sweet conciliation.

"I told you," Yuuji sighed, as if you didn't already know, "Nanamin just isn't scared of anything."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just--"

The crack of the rail breaking behind you and Yuuji pierced the night, and you plummeted to the ground below, the air punching out of your lungs. Coughing, groaning, and dazed, you barely registered Kento calling your name, and calling your name, and CALLING YOUR NAME--

"--shit--" Kento swore, pale, and checking your head, and your eyes, and your body, and your eyes, and cupping your cheeks and surveying you for hurt or damage or injury, "--shit, are you hurt? Say something-- say something--"

You coughed, flapping a hand, saved by your Cursed Energy. "Fine, Kento, I'm fine--"

"-- jesus christ...you scared me."

You blinked up at him, feeling like the worst wife in the world. "I...scared you?"

Kento wasn't listening, still feeling your body all over in pale concentration. Yuuji sat up beside you, watching from beneath his goggles, cap and mask. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kento did not look up, but raised a single stern finger to point at him.

"Not a word, Itadori-kun. You scared me too."

[steddielations]

Years after Eddie moves out and Wayne retires, Eddie comes by everyday to help around the house. Wayne doesn’t like the fuss, he won’t be a burden, but the company is nice. The new place isn't as homey as the trailer, his memory's fuzzy about why he ever moved.

One day, Eddie shows up with the Harrington boy of all people. Not a boy anymore, a man fully grown but Wayne remembers him driving that shiny Beamer around Hawkins like yesterday. Eddie says they're old pals, but Wayne can't recall Steve ever coming around with any of Eddie's friends.

It's an odd pair, but Steve’s good company. He chats about baseball, doesn't mind when Wayne mixes up last night's scores with a game 20 years ago. Then throughout the day, Wayne catches Steve giving Eddie the kind of looks and touches that make it clear what kind of pals they are, or at least what kind Steve wants them to be.

It warms Wayne's heart to see. He’s not gonna be around forever, and he always wanted Eddie to settle down with someone. It's hard for men like Eddie, for men like them, but he doesn't want that to stop Eddie from having the chance. So that night before they go, when Wayne's getting squared away in bed, he whispers to Eddie, "Steve's a good one, son. If you ever get ahold of him, don't you let him go."

Eddie just grins, almost something sad about it, and says, "Okay, old man. I'll keep him. I promise." The same thing he always says, every time this happens, but Wayne doesn't know that.

Every day is different, but sometimes Wayne remembers Eddie and Steve have been together for a decade. Sometimes he remembers the small backyard wedding, laughs about how it rained and Eddie slipped in the mud. Sometimes he remembers that he came to live with them when the dementia got worse.

But on days when it's all brand new, when he meets Steve for the first time again, he always knows that he's the right one for Eddie. So Eddie’s gonna listen and hang onto Steve with everything he’s got.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

The Oriental Blue Clearwing Moth: these moths were regarded as a "lost species" for more than 130 years, until they were finally sighted again in 2013

For more than 130 years, the Oriental blue clearwing moth (Heterosphecia tawonoides) was known only from a single, badly damaged specimen that was collected in Sumatra in 1887. There were no recorded sightings of this species again until 2013, when entomologist Dr. Marta Skowron Volponi unexpectedly found the moths feeding on salt deposits that had accumulated along the riverbanks in Malaysia's lowland rainforest.

These moths were observed by researchers again in 2016 and 2017, and research indicates that the moths are actually bee-mimics, as they mimic the appearance, sound, behavior, and flight patterns of local bees. Their fuzzy, bright blue appearance might seem a little out of place for a bee-mimic, but those features do appear in several different bee species throughout Southeast Asia.

When the moths are in flight, they bear a particularly strong resemblance to the bees of the genus Thyreus (i.e. cuckoo bees, otherwise known as cloak-and-dagger bees), several of which are also bright blue, with banded markings, dark blue wings, fuzzy legs, and smooth, rounded antennae. The physical resemblance is compounded by the acoustic and behavioral mimicry that occurs when the moths are in flight.

Cloak-and-Dagger Bees: the image at the top shows an Indo-Malayan cloak-and-dagger bee (Thyreus novaehollandiae) in a sleeping position, holding itself upright with its mandibles clamped onto a twig, while the image at the bottom shows a Himalayan cloak-and-dagger bee (T. himalayensis) resting in the same position

The moths also engage in "mud-puddling" among the various bees that congregate along the riverbanks; mud-puddling is the process whereby an insect (usually a bee or a butterfly) draws nutrients from the fluids found in puddles, wet sand, decaying plant matter, carrion, animal waste, sweat, tears, and/or blood. According to researchers, the Oriental blue clearwing moth was the only lepidopteran that was seen mud-puddling among the local bees.

Dr. Skowron Volponi commented on the unusual appearance and behavior of these moths:

You think about moths and you envision a grey, hairy insect that is attracted to light. But this species is dramatically different—it is beautiful, shiny blue in sunlight and it comes out during the day; and it is a master of disguise, mimicking bees on multiple levels and even hanging out with them. The Oriental blue clearwing is just two centimeters in size, but there are so many fascinating things about them and so much more we hope to learn.

This species is still incredibly vulnerable, as it faces threats like deforestation, pollution, and climate change. The president of Global Wildlife Conservation, which is an organization that seeks to rediscover "lost species," added:

After learning about this incredible rediscovery, we hope that tourists visiting Taman Negara National Park and picnicking on the riverbanks—the home of these beautiful clearwing moths—will remember to tread lightly and to take their trash out of the park with them. We also recommend that Americans learn about palm oil production, which is one of the primary causes of deforestation in Malaysia.

Sources & More Info:

Phys.org: Bee-Mimicking Clearwing Moth Buzzes Back to Life After 130 Years

Mongabay News: Moth Rediscovered in Malaysia Mimics Appearance and Behavior of Bees to Escape Predators

Journal of Tropical Conservation Science: Lost Species of Bee-Mimicking Clearwing Moth, H. tawonoides, Rediscovered in Peninsular Malaysia's Primary Rainforest

Frontiers in Zoology: Southeast Asian Clearwing Moths Buzz like their Model Bees

Royal Society Publishing: Moving like a Model - mimicry of hymenopteran flight trajectories by clearwing moths of Southeast Asian rainforests

Medium: Rediscovery in a Glint of Blue

re:wild.org: The "Search for Lost Species" Project

[illyrianbitch]

A Place for Dying

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: A mission with Cassian goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: major angst, mentions and depiction of gore, injury, battle, death.

Word Count: 2.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The rain lashed down in relentless torrents as the sounds of clashing steel filled the air.

You didn’t know where they came from or how they managed to sneak up on you and Cassian so swiftly— appearing as if conjured by the storm itself. Within seconds you were swarmed.

The male in front of you was unlike any you’ve faced before, eyes ablaze with an eerie light as he attacked. You parried his blows with all your skill, but the mud beneath your feet made your movements slow and predictable, and his skill was otherworldly— something far sinister than what you’d been trained to fight. From the corner of your eye, you could see Cassian locked in combat with two other males, hair matted and siphons glowing angrily as he moved.

And then a searing pain exploded in your abdomen.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you glanced down, watching in horror as a sword was drawn from your abdomen, coated in blood. You felt your own weapon slipping from your now lax grip as your hand found its way to your gaping wound. A faint scream echoed in your ears as you looked up, meeting the male's triumphant grin, his sword poised to deliver the final blow.

Within a seconds, there was a second figure before you as a flash of red glow and power surged.

But you weren’t paying attention as your legs gave way beneath you.

You felt yourself falling, the world spinning as a fuzzy darkness crawled into your eyesight. You blinked. Cassian was there, hands reaching out to catch you and pull you into him.

"Shit, shit," he cursed under his breath. "Shit."

"Cassian," you croaked. Your voice was barely a whisper against the roar of the storm, a painful groan that made his stomach clench. His gaze swept over the chaos around you, the soaked mud now scarcely decorated with the bodies of the fallen soldiers. He looked over briefly at the male that had stabbed you, now lying lifeless where Cassian had struck him.

"You're okay, you're good," Cassian said. He attempted to readjust himself, wrapping an arm around your torso as he pulled your other around his shoulders. His body groaned in response, searing pain igniting through his torn clothes.

"Cass, I can't—I can't.”

"Shhh," Cassian said. He took a deep breath as he began to walk forward, surveying his surroundings for the next possible move. "Don't speak. I got ya."

His shredded wings hung limp behind him, now sodden and stained with mud. You hung from him completely, unable to keep yourself up as your legs dragged behind you with every move. Cass clenched his teeth, his mind blurring out the pain of his own injuries to focus solely on you. Any wrong move could worsen your injuries. He needed to find a place to rest, to wait for Rhysand or Azriel.

Your grip tightened on your stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood as Cassian's hand now covered yours.

"Cass," you rasped.

He kept moving, his body protesting with every step forward.

"Rhys and Az will be here, okay?" Cassian replied, his voice strained with the effort of masking his own fear. "Let me just get you somewhere safe."

"We don't have time."

Cassian shook his head, his feet dragging through the mud as he continued. Everywhere in his body screamed with pain, his senses overwhelmed by the taste of blood in the air and the relentless pounding of the rain. He could feel the weight of you pulling on him getting worse as you weakened, the strain growing in the tension of his muscles as he struggled to keep moving.

Through the hand that covered yours, Cassian could feel the blood seeping through your fingers. He fought to distract himself from the sight and sensation, focusing instead on the rhythm of his own breath, the steady beat of his heart. He needed to think.

He whispered silent prayers to whatever gods may be listening, willing you to hold on just a little while longer. But the taste of blood lingered in his mouth and every scream in his mind was met with empty silence. A deep sense of foreboding settled in his gut, a primal instinct that warned him that you might be vulnerable to yet another ambush. He also knew, deep down, that Rhys and Az wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

All he could do was wait, to get you settled somewhere so your body could begin to heal. That wouldn’t happen as long as he was dragging your body through mud and rain. With a determined mind, he steered you deeper into a grove of trees.

You reached a small clearing, the burden of the pouring rain now lessened by the canopy above you. Cassian leaned against a sturdy tree, carefully lowering you both down until you were cradled in his arms, your back pressed against his chest. You let out a choked sound of pain, eyes clenching as a wave of nausea ran through you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Cassian’s voice was a gentle caress. If you had the energy to pay attention, you would have noticed the fear that settled in it, the utter desperation.

Cassian let out a deep breath, his jaw set in determination as he lifted his hand to help you raise your shaky one, guiding it to apply more pressure to your wound. He could feel it underneath his fingertips, see it even through your black leathers, the blood pouring from you still. A knot tightened in his stomach.

He felt your shallow breaths against his chest as your trembling form leaned back against him. You closed your eyes and let your head fall backwards onto his shoulder.

"It's bad, isn't it?" you whispered.

Cassian took another deep breath, his mind racing as he fought to keep his composure for your sake. "Nothing you haven't faced before."

A small laugh escaped your lips. For a moment, Cassian's gaze softened as the sound filled his ears, a sense of comfort rolling through his body in a slow wave.

"Just keep the pressure on it, alright?"

You gave a shaky nod. "Okay.”

Cassian took a moment to assess the situation. Without any materials to staunch the bleeding, all he could do was wait and try to keep you distracted from the pain. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of your matted hair, drenched in mud and blood, streaks of crimson mingling with the rainwater on your face. Despite it all, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Desperation clawed at him as he continued to plead with Rhys in his mind, willing his friend to come to your aid. But yet again, his cries were met with a deep, heavy silence. No response, no feeling of a message having been received. Cass wrapped himself around you even closer.

"It'll make a badass scar," he said.

Again, you managed a weak laugh, but it was cut short by a bubbling sound that sent a chill down Cassian's spine. He felt his stomach drop as he realized the source— blood gurgling from your throat, staining your perfect smile crimson.

With a trembling hand, Cassian cradled your head, pulling you closer to him, his own face hovering inches from yours in a desperate attempt to offer what little comfort he could. There was a painful pang in his chest as he felt your breaths becoming shallower. He gave you a gentle nudge.

"Hey, stay with me," he implored, voice laced with desperation. "Look at me.”

"I can't… I'm so tired," you replied weakly.

"Yes, you can," Cassian said. "I know it's hard, but you gotta keep those pretty eyes open, okay?"

"Cassian."

His name was a desperate plea, a sound of pure agony that fell from your lips.

"I know, I know," he murmured, his own voice choking. He cleared his throat. "But you gotta keep fighting, alright? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded faintly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Okay."

"Good, good," Cassian said, his heart aching as he watched you struggle. "Let me see."

With great effort, you managed to tilt your head, your teary eyes meeting his. Cassian swallowed back his own tears, his voice trembling slightly as he whispered, "There they are."

Your brow furrowed in determination as you gathered the strength to speak, and you began, "Cass, I want you to know…"

But Cassian started shaking his head vehemently, his voice firm as he interrupted, "No, no."

"I should've told you sooner-”

Cassian's head continued to shake, his eyes pleading with you to stop. "Y/n, please.”

But you pressed on, the words tumbling from your lips despite his protests. "You need to know that I-"

"No," Cassian interrupted again, his voice desperate. "You can tell me when we get back. Don't say that."

"Cassian, please, let me-"

"No. You can tell me when we get back home," Cassian insisted once again, his eyes wide and desperate. "And then I can tell you I feel the same way. That I’ve felt the same way for centuries. And I can take you out on a real date. Do it all properly. Okay?"

You paused. After a moment, you quietly replied, "Okay."

Cassian leaned his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his own against it. "Just a little longer," he whispered softly, “I promise.”

He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn’t be promising anything in your condition, that he should have let you speak. But Cassian refused. He refused because your words were those of a dying female, words of a confession that you’d release upon death. And you weren’t dying, not today. He refused.

So he focused on your body against him, playing another chaste kiss atop your head. He felt you shift slightly beneath him.

"Isn't that beautiful?"

Cassian frowned, pulling his eyes away from you to look at the view in front. Over the small clearing the setting sun shone through gaps within the trees. Cassian nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment before he looked down at you, gaze tender and unwavering. "Breathtaking," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Those words were only for you.

"So beautiful.”

But as Cassian continued to hold you close, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him. Where were Rhysand and Azriel? Who else was hurt? What could he do to help you?

His thoughts ran through his mind, clumping into large knots he couldn’t read. But then, Cassian’s heart stopped, a surge of panic flowing through his body as he tightened his grip on your hand.

You weren’t moving beneath him. No shallow breaths, no coughing.

"Y/n?" he whispered, his hand moving to cradle your face, angling it towards him. “No, no, no.”

His hand trembled as he brushed your cheek, searching desperately for any sign of life. But there was no response, no flutter of eyelids or rise and fall of breath. And then he saw it—your eyes closed, your features peaceful in repose, the ghost of a weak smile.

His eyesight began to grow blurry as tears filled his eyes once more, now freely falling as he took you in. Cassian let his forehead fall to rest against yours as he began to sob, the weight of grief crushing him in its wake.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The sun was gone by time Rhys and Azriel appeared, desperately running forward with bruised and bloodied faces. Rhys was the first to speak, his words tumbling out before he could fully take in the scene. "We came as fast as we could, there was an att—"

But his voice faltered the same second Az took a sharp inhale next to him.

Cassian sat before them, hair matted and wings limp around him, cradling your body in his hands. He brushed his thumb against your cheek, tears glistening in his eyes as he remained lost in his grief, not sparing his brothers a glance.

Without hesitation, Azriel's shadows swarmed around you, a protective cocoon enfolding your form. One shadow returned to him, and within seconds his expression dropped. He turned to Rhys with a shake of his head.

"I told her to stop," Cassian's voice trembled as he finally looked up, meeting their gazes. His face was still painted in blood and dirt, streaked by the rain and tears. There were bags under his eyes and a sense of despair they'd never seen before, not in the centuries he had existed. "I told her to wait until we got home to tell me."

He glanced down at you again, running a hand over your hair as he continued, "I didn't let her tell me she loved me." Each word hung heavy in the air, a tangible ache in his voice as he spoke.

Rhys stepped forward, clearing his throat as a deep sadness weighed in his stomach. "Cass—"

But Cassian shook his head, cutting him off. "I didn't get to tell her I love her."

Loved her, his mind reminded him. Loved her.

Rhys knelt down in front of him, exchanging a solemn glance with Azriel. He gave a nod with his head towards Cassian’s wings. It only took Azriel seconds to take in the state of them, torn and bloody, more of the membrane missing than what remained.

"We need to go home," Rhys said quietly, his hand resting on Cassian's shoulder. “You need Madja.”

But Cassian only shook his head as he pulled you closer.

"Just five more minutes," he pleaded, pressing his face to your head. He took a deep breath, his senses filled with the smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. But beneath it all, he caught a hint of you, of the smell he’d grown to love. A scent that felt like home.

He inhaled it deeply, savoring it and storing it away in his mind. He would never smell it again.

“Just five more minutes.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me saying i need to get in the headspace of writing angst for one of my series parts and writing this teehee

also… isn’t it so sad when u realize they never ever kissed 😭(😋😋)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: a lot of yapping. Male masturbation. A bit of violence from Katsuki’s part when a guy tries getting in your pants.

Word count: this part is 2.4k, added to the others (part 1, part 2, part 3) it’s 8.9k.

Next part: part 5

"It's too hot" you mewl while lying on your couch. “Step back, it’s my turn to be in front of the fan” you add, getting up and walking towards Katsuki.

“Fuck no, it’s been 3 minutes since you had a go at it. Go back to the hell hole you came from, pest” your roommate answers while throwing daggers at you.

You poke your finger in his exposed bicep. He doesn’t budge. Damn, this man is hard as a rock.

“Come onnnnn! This is the time when you should be a gentleman and let me cool down my beautiful face. Do you really want to be such a brute, Mr. Bakugou?” you bat your eyelashes seductively, trying to convince him.

Bakugou stares at you like your face is green and you’re a slimy frog that just came out of a pile of mud.

“I don’t fucking care. You’re a big girl and I ain’t no prince charming. Step the fuck back or I’m throwing you on that damn sofa. Wait your shitty turn” he says, flicking your forehead.

You whine some more, whisper “bitch” (it gets you another flick) and then turn back to lay on the floor. It’s colder than the couch, at least.

It’s summer, there’s 41°C outside, and your AC broke the other day. It’s so hot that you take out the ice from the freezer and it melts in 4 minutes (max). You happened to have one old crusty fan, that you and Bakugou take turns using. You have been surviving on iced coffee and iced lemonades. You feel like you’re slowly dying.

“You know, this is the only time I really wish my boss would call me in early. He might be a ghost, but he sure uses money for the AC” you blabber while staring at the ceiling, contemplating booking a trip to Alaska.

“What do you mean a ghost?” the blond asks. He’s been much more talkative in the last few months, maybe because seeing you being so domestic was doing something to him. In the last few days he really wants to be your friend, but not because he’s suddenly nice: he thinks he could bribe you to gift him the fan if he’s kinder and breaks your defenses. He’s even planning on asking you to go to a cafe nearby and offer you one of those sweet fuzzy iced drinks you like so much. He’s scheming.

“A ghost because I’ve never seen his face. Can you believe that? My colleague says he’s an asshole though, so maybe that’s for the better” you answer. You get on your elbows to see him better, then squint and frown, “I feel like you could be my boss, you know. Seeing as you’re an asshole too, making me die here on the floor like a common drug addict”.

Yeah, screw the fan. He was asking you out to kill you.

“I hope he fires you”.

“Fuck you”.

“Likewise”.

You throw yourself back on the floor. The movement makes your boobs giggle, and he catches himself staring at your white tank top. You didn’t wear a bra since it’s indeed still your house and it’s indeed still hot as hell.

Things have been going so much better between you two. You now bicker like you’re siblings, but you do also take walks together sometimes, mainly to get groceries, and talk about stuff. You even convinced him to watch Keeping up with the Kardashians with you, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he likes the drama more than you.

At work you have a new manager and she’s super nice. Her name is Mina, and you found out that she and Kirishima are engaged, even if they’re 22 like you. She’s a great worker, and you’ve gone out for drinks a couple of times with her and Momo. She’s been at the cafe for 2 months, but you feel so much better already. She throws you weird looks sometimes, like she knows something you don’t, but you pay it no mind.

The timer on your phone rings, and you jump up before throwing your whole body on Katsuki’s. He’s distracted and you get him off guard, managing to move him away. He notices your tits touching his arm.

“Hah! My turn!” you say triumphantly, positioning yourself in front of the fan. The cold air makes your nipples harden. He seems to not be able to look away.

“Awh, Katsuki, cat got your tongue? Don’t worry, baby, the floor is not that bad” you snicker.

He snaps out of his trance and looks at your smirk. Baby? Did you just call him baby?

Fuck, what is he doing? The heat is getting to him. He hastily turns around and starts walking.

“Fuck off, I’m getting in the shower. You can have your fucking fan until I get out” he grunts while almost running away. He needs to have a cold shower.

“We’ll see!” you smile devilishly at him, not having noticed how he’s furiously blushing while slamming the bathroom door.

Katsuki puts his back on the door and slides to the floor. He rubs his face before staring at the obvious tent his semi is causing in his shorts.

Have you always been so hot?

He gets out of his clothes and jumps in the shower, hoping this feeling will go away once the scorching temperature of his skin gets back to normal. But after a few minutes the icy water does nothing to quell his desire, his fully standing cock a statement to that.

He curses under his breath, then wraps one of his hands on his shaft. He feels so dirty doing this, and the fact you’re one door away makes him feel even more embarrassed.

“Let’s get this fucking over with, fuck” he says to himself, pumping his member slowly.

He imagines the way your hand would feel instead of his, or your big eyes staring up at him like you did before, just that in this case you were forcing yourself not to cry while choking on his cock. His hand would be in your hair instead of on his dick, pushing your mouth snugly against his pubes. Your mouth would be hotter than the sun outside and he'd give you a reason to sweat. If you pleaded hard enough he'd fuck you too. He’d really throw you on the sofa, ripping your damn white top and sucking on your nipples. Fuck, what if you pierced them? Your tits would look so good covered in his-

He cums, grunting. "Fuck, this is the most embarrassing shit I've ever had to do to cum" he adds, whispering to himself.

He makes sure to scrub the shower wall clean before putting on the pair of grey short sweatpants he was wearing before. He decides on not to put his black compression tee on, since it’s drenched in sweat.

He exits the bathroom and finds you lying on the couch with the fan blowing directly on your face. Your eyes are closed, and the peaceful expression you're wearing makes his dick throb again.

"Oi, wanna go out? We're short on ice" he finds himself saying.

You open one eye, but when you realize he's half naked you hastily close it and throw him the pillow you were resting your head on.

"When has this become a whore house?" you scream.

He rolls his eyes. "You're such a prude. It's not like you've never seen a man naked" he scoffs, while throwing the pillow back at you.

You open your eyes again and glare at him. You know you must be as red as a tomato.

He looks so good with his hair still dripping wet. You've known that he works out, but now that you see his torso this close and with so little covering his whole body, you find yourself feeling shy. There's a particular drop of water that cascades just in the middle of his pecs, and you follow it with your eyes until it reaches his belly button.

"Earth to y/n. I know I'm hot, but stop ogling and answer my fucking question" your roommate says smirking, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You throw the same pillow you threw before right on his smiling face. "I'm coming if you're not gonna be naked!" you say, hastily going towards your room.

"But wouldn't you like it, baby?" he mocks the tone you've used with him just 30 minutes ago.

"Fuck you. I'll be there in 10" you respond, slamming your bedroom door, feeling hot and bothered.

It must be the summer.

You and Katsuki go to a store nearby to get ice.

“When is the landlord gonna repair the AC?” you ask, since he was the one to make the call.

“He said he’ll come next week, probably even the next one. Said he’s on vacay or some shit” he grunts from next to you.

“I can’t survive 2 weeks like this” you whine. “Oh, you know those noodles you did the other day? The spicy ones? Want to make them for dinner today?” you change the topic, looking up at him.

He spares you a glance before smirking and saying “you just said you’re dying, you sure you wanna eat spicy things?”.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s not the question” you say, pouting.

He smirks again. “Sure. Go and take the noodles, I’ll get the vegetables. Call me when you’re finished if you can’t come back here, I know you get lost like a dumbass”.

You slap his arm. “I do not! This place is just big, asshole”. Then you turn around and march straight towards… the wrong aisle. Katsuki shakes his head. You’ll find a way. You always do, somehow.

After 10 minutes you’re still not back and you still haven’t called, so he sighs and gets his phone out.

He missed your texts from 3 minutes ago.

Y/N: Help

Y/N: I feel like a guy is following me

Y/N: I’m next to some spicy sauces, I guess

Y/N: Mom come pick me up, I’m scared

He raises an eyebrow. You’re usually too prideful to text him when you don’t find the ingredients he tells you to search for, so this situation is weird. He tries to remember where the spicy sauces are, and goes for that aisle.

Meanwhile, you were right and a creepy guy was indeed following you. He’s slim, not that tall and looks like a predator. For the past couple of minutes he’s obviously been trying to get in your pants, and you don’t know how to remove yourself from the situation.

“Come on, just give me your number. You got a boyfriend? Is this why you’re being so… spicy?” he says with a low tone of voice, walking towards you and effectively blocking you from the eyes of the people who are walking down your aisle. From outside, he just seems like he’s talking to you.

“I said I’m not interested” you repeat for what feels like the 10th time. Then you decide to lie: “and yes, I do have a boyfriend. He gets crazy when he’s jealous, I wouldn’t want to anger him if I were you”. You hope you sound confident enough.

“Awh he doesn’t have to now, baby girl. It can be our dirty little secret… I love spicy little things like you” he says seductively, touching your arm and licking his lips.

You’re just about to raise your elbow high enough to break his nose when you feel a familiar voice behind you.

“Step the fuck back before I break your fucking hand” Katsuki says to the man in front of you.

You snap your gaze to his eyes, but he’s looking at the guy with a murderous intent.

The slimy guy in front of you doesn’t let go, in fact he just strengthens the hold he has on your arm and you wince. Katsuki notices this.

The guy is definitely intimidated, but still manages to say “mind your business bro, we’re together, this is my bitch-“. But before he can finish the sentence he finds himself crashing on the sauces of the aisle.

“I said step the fuck back. I don’t like to repeat myself. Don’t ever call my girlfriend your bitch again, or next time I’m breaking your damn nose“ your roommate says while putting a hand on your small back.

He then looks down at you, and while he’s looking deep into your eyes, tells you “you good, baby?”.

You nod. You feel your knees shaking, but not because of the guy who’s currently on the floor.

Which, by the way, is now scoffing and declaring “oh so this is your crazy boyfriend? Nobody likes good guys anymore, huh”. He then stands up, adding “you were never pretty enough for me, anyway”.

Katsuki looks at him and suddenly he laughs. “You’re a pathetic ass bitch if you really believe someone like you could ever be near someone like her. You’re not a good guy, you’re an awful piece of shit who only tries to get his dick wet by forcing girls to have sex with him, and you’re obviously failing at that too. Go back to your room and rub one out on some shitty porn like you always do, fucker” he spits out. “You have 5 seconds to get out of my fucking face”.

The asshole thinks he’s joking, so he doesn’t move from his spot, but Katsuki is obviously not playing. He looks super scary, and he’s towering over the pathetic boy.

Katsuki is losing his patience. “5, 4, 3…”.

The guy gets that he’s serious and flees the scene, running with his tail between his legs.

Your roommate takes a big breath before mumbling “I hate people”. You snicker, before looking up at him. “Thank you, you know” you say smiling.

Your gratefulness blinds him, or maybe it’s just that you’re that pretty.

“You’re welcome”.

He doesn’t remove his hand from your back for the rest of your walk, and it feels so natural to be so close to him that you don’t say anything.

A/N: If you want to be put in the taglist make sure your age is visible on your blog first, and then tell me so in the comments <3