#god if only this sickness would pass already (its only really started today) LET ME BE GRUMPY THIS SUCKS.

[autism-corner]

The curse is hitting me.

[lovekeis]

brothers best friend mike who watches you from the window in the kitchen as you sunbathe <333 your brothers in the living room playing video games n mike made n exuse to get some water but rlly its just so he can stare at you and grind his dick against the cabinet in front of him like a perv <3333

a/n: bro do you want me to DIEEEE oh my god,,,for reference reader's brother is not one of the canon boys bc i am BROWN hello. also mike is AGED UP!!! HE IS 19!!!!

content warnings: honetly pretty tame but like mike is a perv so ,,, also reader is teasing him bc she knows n she thinks it's funny <3, brat!reader...thats it i think. mike's a fucking nerd. this got so long sorry. pt 2 perhaps? also I didn’t beta this I die like men. also pov switches around a lot sorry

“He’s in the living room, you know.” There’s a lilt in your tone when you walk into the kitchen, passing Mike where he stands at the fridge. You notice his hand freeze mid wrapping around a soda can and your lip curls up at the corner.

“Uh, yeah, i’m just – you know, soda,” He grabs it quickly, showing it to you as if you needed proof, “See?”

“Mm, yeah, Mikey, I’m not blind–” You smile, manicured fingers reaching for the soda to snatch it from him and giggling when he frowns, “You staying for dinner tonight?”

The brunette nods quickly, swallowing, “Yeah – the guys are, too –” God forbid you think he was staying so he could look at you more (he was), “We — we want to finish our campaign. You can come, if you want–”

“Maybe next time? M’trying to tan today–” You cut him off, already moving towards the back door; you watch his eyes scan down your body when he thinks you’re not looking, fighting the smirk that pulls at your lips. You can sense his nerves, see how his hands shake, and it makes you excited. Hungry, almost. 

You sway your hips while you walk out the door, tiny shorts that you’d picked for this exact situation hugging your ass just right, tits bouncing when you put a bit of pep in your walk; it’s very obvious what you’re doing, even to someone as stupidly oblivious as Mike Wheeler. 

The second you disappear behind the screen door Mike’s letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, gripping the counter with white knuckles and practically collapsing against it. 

Why did you keep doing this to him?

He was so sick of it, so fucking sick – every day since summer started you’d go out to tan by your pool in the tiniest bikini (how many of those could you even own, by the way?) and the most sinful shorts, thighs squeezing out around the bottom and tits practically spilling from your top. 

And then you do this stupid fucking thing – you’re doing it now, actually, he realizes it when he looks through the big window above the sink – where you shimmy out of your shorts only to reveal probably the most revealing piece of cloth he’s ever seen in his life. And you know he’s watching, and he knows that you know, because you always bend over to fish the shorts off the ground when they pool around your ankles, always in front of the window. Every. Fucking. Time.

Your brother would fucking kill him if he knew that Mike was eyeing his sister like a goddamn perv, watching her tan by the pool and popping a fucking boner while he’s at it. 

Can’t you see he’s trying to be a good friend here?

Of course you can – you’re just a fucking minx who thinks it’s fun to tease him. He notices, he’s not stupid; he sees how you arch your back up from the chair as if you’re stretching, how you make sure he’s in view of the window while you lather sunscreen on your thighs. He wants to bash his head against the marble countertop.

Mike’s only brought out of his own thoughts when he realizes you’re looking at him – really looking at him, not coy glances like you usually do when you’re out there. This one’s bolder. More loaded.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees you bring a pretty hand up to wiggle your ringed fingers at him in a cute little wave. There’s a smirk on your face. He leans forward, feeling his cock brush the counter and almost gasping. It felt good. 

You think it’s cute how stupid he must think you are. Or maybe he doesn’t and he gets off on being known. Whatever it is, it makes you feel hot all over, like you’re doing something bad. You’re just glad he’s finally caught on to years of pining.

You’ve often wondered how bold you could get before he finally decided to fucking do something; he was driving you crazy, always trying to act so self righteous as if your brother wouldn’t fuck Nancy giving the chance. You were a spoiled brat, Mike knew that, he indulged you in it in every other way – so why not this one?

Your eyes survey the area around you, flicking around behind dark pink shades to make sure no one else but your intended audience is seeing. Once you’re satisfied you let out a little sigh, wiggling your painted toes and stretching out your arms, making a show of it all as your hands snake up to tug at your bikini top. It falls into your lap and you smile, not at him but for him. 

Mike can’t believe what he’s seeing, and he thinks he should definitely feel embarrassed about how shamelessly he’s grinding into his own hand right now. He does, but the bliss he feels while looking at your tits outweighs it. He wants to bite them. His mind is swirling and he feels dizzy but he’s chasing something, all to fantasies about those tits spilling between his fingers while he fucks into you.

And then you stretch again, arms up to the sky, before you turn around and lay yourself down on your tummy – right at the time Mike feels his boxers get sticky. He groans inwardly, collapsing against the counter again with a heaving chest. He just came in his pants to the sight of his best friend’s little sister’s tits. That was fucking humiliating.

He doesn’t even have time to consider what the fuck just happened because your brother’s hand is coming up to clap against his back, making him jump and let out a yell.

“Dude, you good? Look like you just ran a marathon or some shit – hurry up, will you? We’re starting a new game.”

“U-uh yeah, I’ll be right there, I just gotta–”

“I’m making him help me with my homework. He said he took my bio class before and can help me with it – right, Mikey?” His blood runs cold and his face gets hot when he hears your voice, devastatingly sweet. How the hell did you get in here so fast? He tries not to frown when he notices you’re clothed again.

He only nods, unable to get anything out other than a stammering confirmation. How cute.

Your brother only groans and tells you guys to hurry up but doesn’t think anything of it – why would he? Mike had known you since you guys were in diapers – he was harmless. Supposedly. He turns to walk back to the living room and Mike sighs, all the tension visibly leaving his body.

Only to come back again when you saunter next to him, leaning over him to grab something from the sink and letting your tits squish into his back in the process. He feels light headed.

“I’ll be waiting for you – don’t clean up, by the way. Kay?” 

He gasps and you can only giggle, suddenly pulling off of him and turning so you can skip off to your room. You knew. 

“Thanks, Mikey!” You call behind you, and he watches your hips sway while you go. He realizes you had only been out there for five minutes max, not a shade darker. You’d planned this.

Little shit.

[todoshotoroki]

𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨

Warnings: smut, light spanking, heavy degradation, sub f bodied reader x Bakugou.〤 Minors DNI

Word count: 1.7k 

   Katsuki didn't like sharing. He made it very clear, the things that were his were not to be touched. Now, this didn't mean he wasn't good at hiding things. Nobody could have known that you and the great Bakugou Katsuki had been fucking behind everyone's back. So while he couldn't exactly show you off, he had other ways to make sure you'd always come back to him.

   So you should have known better then to start hanging around that fucking nerd.

   You should have known he would have found out, how Izuku Midoryia would walk into the common room absolutely swooning about the wonderful chat you two had together in the elevator just moments before. You had been on your way to class, and happened to pass each other on the way out. 

   It was harmless, really. Izuku was a good friend to you.

   Bakugou had to teach you a lesson. That was why he waited outside for your class to finish, before wordlessly grabbing your hand and pulling you down the hallway that was packed with students. You tried multiple times to avoid eye contact with anyone else, Katsuki was literally holding your hand for the first time in public. Plus, it only added to the suspicion when he yanked open the nearest janitor closet, pulling you inside and slamming it shut. He clicked the lock into place.

   “So are you going to explain, Bakugou? You do realize everyone just saw that right?” Your voice was irritated, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Clearly, you weren't happy. That didn't matter to him though, he wasn't here to make you happy right now. “Don't talk” He said, taking a step forward to grab your backpack, pushing it past your shoulders and onto the floor. “Excuse me? What do you think-”

   His face instantly turned into a scowl, and his hand came up to grip tightly onto your jaw, the pads of his fingers and the tips of his nails digging into your cheeks. “Shut your mouth before I fucking shut it for you” He growled, leaning close to your face to make sure you could hear him clear enough. “You think your so fucking hot, hiding away in an elevator with that fucking idiot. You wanted to make me jealous? That why? Fucking brat” The closet was dark, but his piercing red eyes burned into yours as he pushed you all the way to the back of the wall. 

   “W-What are you talking about? I wasn't flirting with Izuku-” Your protest was interrupted by a harsh slap to the cheek, your face lurching to the side from the impact. “Say his name one more fucking time, I dare you little girl” 

   This was new. Katuski had always been dominant, it was his personality. Though, you had never seen him practically seething with jealousy. Your thighs were already getting sticky. “B-but I really wasn't” You weakly defended yourself as Katsuki’s free hand traveled down to your skirt, shoving it down past your hips. “B-b-but i-i-” He mocked your voice harshly, his fingers reaching behind you to roughly grab at your ass, before landing another harsh smack to your lower cheek. 

   “Your so fucking dumb, you don't even realize the effect you have on people. You need glasses? Huh four eyes? Couldn't see how he was gushing over your little talk today?” His grip on your jaw slowly slid down your neck and across your throat, pinching the sides between his thumb and index finger. Enough to hurt, but air still flowed to your lungs. “Maybe I just have to show you baby. You were a virgin when i first fucked you, my little virgin, right?” 

   “Y-yeah, Katsuki, please..” Your face burned in shame, but you couldn't deny the desperation he made you feel. It was so hot to see him all bothered like this, how possessive he could be. You weren't even publicly dating yet.

   “Guess ill just have to show you that I'm the first and last cock you'll ever fucking have” His hand came down to unbuckle his belt, yanking it off his hips and letting his jeans fall to the floor. “The only fucking one that can make you cum baby” He let go of his grip on your neck, instead placing both hands on your hips and turning you around to press your breasts up against the cold wall. It wasn't cold for long though, because Katsuki’s burning hot hand slithered between your shirt and the wall to grope at your breasts, pushing your bra up your chest.

   His knee parted your thighs, his foot kicking each of your ankles to spread them. “Open your fucking legs” He grunted in your ear, his free hand gripping tighter on your hip. You weren't sure when he took his briefs off, but you could feel the throbbing head of his cock parting your folds to rub up against your clit. “Katsukiii- Just fuck me already” You begged in a small whine, tilting your head back to lean up on his shoulder.

   Bakugou leaned down to press a loud, sloppy, wet kiss to your lips as he began to gently fuck his cock between your thighs. “You want me to fuck you baby girl? You sure you deserve this cock? You've been naughty, so fucking naughty” He growled in your ear as he began to teasingly fuck himself between your thighs, smearing his precum all over your soft skin, painting them white in his milky substance. 

   “Yes, yes please, I want it Suki, I want you nooow” Your whine was switched into a sing-songy tone. You reached between your legs, your fingers dancing on the tip of Bakugou's cock as it rubbed at your clit each time he fucked himself between your thighs. His hard cock throbbed between your legs for attention, and his breathing shuttered at your touch.

    “Naughty girl” He muttered, pulling his cock back just enough to push it as far as he could go into your pussy.

   “Fuck, Fuck, your so tight baby” He groaned, his arms circling tightly around your waist as he felt the weight of your body slack against his at the sudden intrusion of his cock. “K-Katsu- you- you went all the way in-inside” Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, Katsuki leaned forward, his tongue rolling across your salty cheek to lap up your fallen tears. “Yeah baby, it's because you've been such a bad girl, gotta show you, gotta.. Fuck, gotta teach you to be good”  

   He pulled almost all the way out, just barely emptying you before slamming his cock back into your guts. He instantly hit the right angle, his cock filling you so perfectly and hitting you in all the right spaces. One of the lewdest moans you've ever heard fell past his lips and slipped right into your ear, and you were so thankful his mouth was right next to your ear.

    “Your such a fucking slut, getting my cock wet like this”

“Katsu- Katsuki wait-”

   No, only good girls were able to make demands, and you had infuriated Bakugou Katsuki to the point where even now he was holding back from fucking you too harsh, constantly aware if he was setting his quirk off or not. He almost wanted to say fuck it. 

   Too fast? Too harsh? Too deep?

   “Too fucking bad, your my little bitch right now” He growled, his movements speeding up and causing a new course of pleasure to shoot through both of your bodies. He reached up with his left hand, gripping your jaw and tilting your head to press a sloppy kiss onto your lips, roughly digging his teeth into your bottom lip as the sounds of smacking skin echoed in the room. “You- you’re so mean Kacchan” Maybe he was, but the way your pussy clenched and desperately sucked at his cock told him how much you were enjoying yourself.

   “No, no I think you're the mean one. Letting dumbass Deku think he has a chance with you- no fucking way” His sentence ended in a growl as the hand on your jaw returned to its place around your throat. “Not that he’d ever want you if he knew the truth- if he knew how much you loved fuckin’ creamin’ all over my cock, hah, fuck” His movements sped up, your legs felt tingly and the knot of ecstasy begin to pile in your stomach. 

   “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry Katsuki, please make me cum, please” Your words were weak, pathetic little whines tumbling helplessly past your lips. “M so sorry, I won't do it again, just please” God you sounded so hot. Your voice sounded so hot. The wet sounds the mixture of his dick in your pussy made together were so fucking hot. 

   “Dirty little girl, aren't you ashamed to be cumin all over me? All over my cock?” Katsuki couldn't deny his own release approaching, but he held off for that beautiful moment when you finished together. “No, betcha get off on it, you sick, twisted slut. My cheap little whore” 

   He knew when your head leaned back into his shoulder and your hand reached behind to grab the base of his hair, that you were cumming. As if the tightening around his cock wasn't already enough intel. On top of that, you knew what pulling his hair did to him, you knew, you dirty little succubus- 

   “Fuck baby, that's it, cum all over me, cum all over my cock sexy” His hips sputtered as you both came, his cock vibrating inside your pulsating walls as he shot out long spurts of semen inside of you. “So good ‘Suki, so good inside of me”

   Both of you spent a few moments panting, catching your breaths. Bakugou laid his head on your shoulder, placing kisses along your collarbone. With a breathy chuckle, he was reminded of the hectic hallway just outside. Surely there would be rumors now, rumors that would reach Izuku Midoryia and crush every single one of his hopes and dreams. 

   Slowly, he lifted his head up to smile at you. “Hey, dumbass” He said with a cocky grin. 

   “What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?”

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒:  "𝙇𝙪𝙨𝙩, 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞, 𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩”

𝑂𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♡

© all copy rights reserved, do not claim, copy, or repost

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 20)

Summary: You get your first real experience of the flu

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Fluff! Slow Burnnnn!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 20: Even Gods Get Sick

You had felt weird the last couple of days. You weren’t exactly sure what it was, but your body just felt tired. When you woke up this morning though you felt like you’d been hit by a truck.

Your head felt like it was triple the size. Your nose would not stop running, and you had a cough that wouldn’t go away. You had been sick before as a kid on Asgard, but it was extremely rare, like only once or twice rare. Plus, your mother would always use her magic to help you feel better.

Ignoring your alarm clock, you buried yourself further down into your bed. Bringing your duvet over your head to block out the sunlight that was streaming in through the crack in the curtains straight onto your face.

You woke back up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. You slowly get up from your bed, feeling dizzy as you did so. When you were fully stood up you felt your body shiver so you grabbed your blanket wrapping it over your head and shoulders.

When you opened the door you are greeted with the sight of Steve looking down at you. His face instantly turned to one of concern when he saw you.

“Whoa you okay? You look terrible” he asks looking down at you.

“Thank you, I feel terrible” you grumble with a sniffle.

“I’m guessing training is cancelled today then” he says eyebrow raised.

“You guessed right” you nod.

“Alright well let’s get you back to bed” he smiles wrapping his arm around you and leading you back to your bed.

“Where do you keep your meds?” He asks as you climb back into bed.

“I don’t have any, I don’t get sick” you mumble pulling the covers up.

“Well I hate to break it to you sweetheart… but you’re sick” he says with a small chuckle.

“I rarely get sick, I’ve only been sick like twice before” you say correcting yourself.

“Well you’re one of the lucky ones, right well I’ve got a spare key so I’ll go grab some stuff, I’ll be back soon okay” Steve tells you but you were already half asleep.

When he returned Steve gently woke you up. You groaned as you sat up, only to start having coughing fit. Steve gave you a sympathetic smile as he passed you a glass of water.

“It looks like you have the flu so I picked up some of the strongest stuff” Steve says pulling out all the different medication.

“Here you go” he says passing you some tablets.

You take them with a large gulp of water sighing deeply as you slump back down in bed.

“How hungry are you?” Steve asks placing a hand on your knee rubbing it gently.

“Not at all, if anything I feel really sick” you say shaking your head.

Steve leans forward placing the back of his hand against your forehead frowning slightly as he does so.

“You’re burning up, you should probably take all these layers off” he says grabbing the blanket that you added over your duvet.

“But I’m cold and shivering” you complain as he does so.

“That’s the fever, we need to bring your body temperature down” Steve explains pulling the duvet back a bit.

“Easy I can do that with my power” you cough.

You hold your hand out and will it to cool down but instead the potted plant went crazy the roots spurting out breaking the pot. You and Steve jump in surprise at the crashing noise.

“Maybe don’t use your powers, we don’t want to set the place alight” Steve says with a small chuckle.

“Urgh fine” you groan in defeat dropping your hand.

“What did you do back on Asgard when you got sick?” He asks as he moves to tidy up the soil and the dirt.

“My mother would use healing magic on me, I’d go to sleep and wake up completely better” you explain blowing your nose.

“Well I don’t have magic but my ma made a good chicken noodle soup that can cure everything” Steve tells you as he stands back up.

“Sounds pretty magical” you say making him smirk.

“Yeah maybe it is, now get some rest I’ll bring the soup through once its done” Steve tells you.

“You’re cooking it?” You question with sarcastic worry.

“Don’t worry its one of the few things I can cook” he chuckles before heading back out of your room.

You relax back into bed trying to resist the urge to pull all the covers back up over your head. Although if you were 100% completely honest the cool breeze was pretty nice and refreshing.

A short while later Steve reappeared with a bowl of soup in hand. You push yourself back up discarded the tissues you had collected in the time he had been gone.

“It’s only a small portion since you said you weren’t very hungry, plus the flu can make you physically sick so take it slow and don’t eat more than you can” he says passing you the bowl and spoon.

“I would say it smells delicious but I can barely smell a thing” you say with a small sniffle.

“Well I hope you like it” he says before moving to sit down on the other side of the bed.

You start slowly eating the soup. Your sense of taste wasn’t as good as normal but the soup was still delicious. You had to work hard to heed Steve’s warning to eat it slowly because it was that good.

Soon enough you had drained the bowl “that was really nice, I’m already starting to feel better” you say a little too soon because you then had a coughing fit.

“Urgh my throat” you groan taking a large sip of water.

“I’ve got something for that, it’s not very nice though” Steve says getting up grabbing a small bottle and spoon.

He pours the dark thick liquid out and passes the spoon to you. You take it not expecting the vile taste barely being able to swallow it.

“What depth of hell did you get this foul liquid from? Tartarus?” you exclaim grabbing your water to wash the rest of it down.

“The convenience store down the block and its cough syrup” Steve chuckles taking the empty spoon from you and setting it down on the side.

“It’s disgusting and if you give me that again I will turn you into ice” you tell him making him laugh even more.

“Alright I won’t I promise now, shall we watch a movie?” Steve asks.

“Yeah sounds good” you agree passing Steve the TV remote.

He turns to TV on quickly finding your favourite movie and putting it on. As he did so he shuffled closer to you.

“You can relax up against me if you want” Steve offers when he sees you try to get comfortable.

“Won’t you get sick” you question.

“I don’t get sick, thanks to the serum” Steve explains.

“Well I didn’t think I’d get sick but I did” you point out.

He just shrugs smiling down at you “its a risk I’m willing to take” he says “c’mon I know you like it” he adds.

You sigh in defeat shuffling over so you could rest your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. He hits play on the movie and the both of you settle down.

As you rested your head on his chest you could feel his steady heartbeat. Something that was incredibly soothing to you. You could feel you heart fluttering as he held you.

Glancing up to look at him you could feel a smile growing on your face as you looked over his features. You hadn’t felt this way before towards anyone but then again you’d never had anyone like Steve in your life before.

Pushing your thoughts aside you returned your attention back to the movie. Enjoying the comfort Steve brought you.

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Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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[jenoismydad]

2 + 3 = You In Me

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Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU

Words: 4.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.

Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?

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Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.

Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.

You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.

Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.

Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.

That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.

"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.

"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."

Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.

"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.

"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.

"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.

Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."

If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."

So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.

"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."

Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."

You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."

"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.

You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."

He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"

Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."

You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."

Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."

You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"

He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."

You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."

Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."

You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."

Jaemin apologized with a laugh.

"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."

That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."

Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.

"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.

_

You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god. You passed!"

You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.

"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."

Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."

You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.

A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.

"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"

Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."

Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.

You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.

"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.

Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.

"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."

Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."

You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."

He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.

"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."

Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."

_

As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.

You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.

"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.

"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.

"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.

Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.

Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"

You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."

You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."

You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."

He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."

"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."

Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."

You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.

"Did you just call me cute?"

Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?

Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."

Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.

You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."

Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."

You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"

Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"

"No! Of course not, why would I-"

"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."

Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.

Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.

His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.

Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.

You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?

_

A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.

A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.

You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.

It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.

So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.

Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.

"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."

He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.

_

Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"

You took out your books and opened them. "This."

Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.

Much to your dismay, eventually it did.

"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.

"Jaemin wait!"

He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."

Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."

You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."

He seemed at a loss for words.

"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.

"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.

"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.

Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."

Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."

You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"

You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."

He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"

You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."

"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.

_

As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.

He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."

Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."

You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."

He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.

His member came into sight, making your mouth water.

Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."

Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.

With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.

Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.

You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.

Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.

"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."

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tagging: @neosmutcollective @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @kafenetwork @nct-writers @ficscafe @whipped-kpop-creators @kpopscape

[blessedlance]

pretty baby.

[r18+]

[wc:] 4k

[cw:] sub!atsumu, softdom!reader, femdom, oral (f. receiving), riding, pegging, mommy kink, puppy kink, minor dacryphilia, collar-play, restraints

! haikyuu manga timeskip spoilers. atsumu is 24. !

a/n: oh my god i haven’t written for leisure in literally 10 years i hope this is bearable LOL. @luvsicksubs​ wrote a lil tidbit about sub!atsumu a while ago and i have not known peace ever since so big thank you to ari for the inspo! pls enjoi :9

Atsumu’s been gone lately. A lot.

 Too much.

 You know it’s not his fault. The Jackals' practices have been brutal lately. So when Atsumu does eventually trudge his way back to your shared apartment every evening, he can only muster up enough energy to shower and collapse into bed. You’ve had to wake him more than once, chiding him to get up and at least dry his hair before bed.

“You can’t afford to get yourself sick by sleeping with wet hair, ‘Tsumu.” You’d whisper, shaking him gently awake. Usually he’d just groan in response and bury himself further against your body heat beneath the comforter--unwilling to give up even a second of precious, blissful sleep. You’d even gone so far as to physically pull his heavy, six foot athlete’s body out of the bed and into the bathroom to dry it for him once or twice.

It’s for his health, you reason. You can afford to pamper him a little--especially when he’s been working so hard. And the way his body slumps while he sits, his features softening--long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he dozes off into half-sleep at the feel of your fingers tussling his hair with the gentle heat of the blow dryer… He becomes so soft in those moments, like putty in your hands.

It’s dangerous, because it makes you crave the sight of him like this--fragile and reliant on the comfort of your touch--even more.

You sigh. Reminding yourself again, for seemingly the millionth time since this excessive practicing for the championships started,

‘It’s not his fault.’

He’s been good. So, so good. Trying so hard to make sure you know he loves you and he’s sorry. Texting you to check in whenever he has the chance.

 > how are you today?

> how’s work going??

> what’s for lunch??? ლ(≧ڡ≦ლ)

 Sometimes sending videos of himself and Hinata hashing out new plays (only the ones they’ve mastered, though. You may be intimately familiar with every embarrassing piece of him, but he still wants to try to look cool in front of his girlfriend.)

And it helps. It really does. But you also know the texts are just as much for his own sake as they are for yours. You know how needy Atsumu gets when you two are apart.

 You remember the time he’d called you from his hotel room after an away game in Tokyo. How he whined into the phone at the sound of your voice when you whispered.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The way a soft cry escaped him at your command--your name leaving his lips with a breath.

 You want to feel him like that again. To see him beneath you, squirming and desperate--begging for you to just touch him, just sit on his face, his cock, anything you want just please--

 You abruptly stop your line of thinking--not daring to continue dwelling on this recurring fantasy. Atsumu doesn’t deserve the punishment you crave to dole out on him to relieve this frustration.

 … But he might want it.

 Championships are tomorrow. Just 24 hours stand between you and the feeling of Atsumu Miya’s taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You take a breath, summoning the remnants of your willpower.

You could do this. You would make certain that the wait would be worth it.

For both of you.

 ---

 The Black Jackals win their first match because of course they do. Honestly, sometimes you feel a bit bad for the opposing teams. Their skill, their teamwork, their passion, their absolute willpower to win is stifling. Atsumu texts you that they’re going out for celebratory dinner and drinks. Bokuto’s idea. (Obviously). He promises he’ll be home as soon as he can. They’ve all got tomorrow morning off, and a whole day before the next round of matches. Some indulgence is well-deserved.

You type out your reply.

 > Take your time and enjoy yourself! You’ve earned it. 💕

 Knowing you’ve got at least two hours or more before the boys’ exhaustion ushers them all home, you decide to spend some time... preparing.

 You’re reclined on the couch, watching something you can comfortably give your half-assed attention to while scrolling on your phone. You hear the front door unlocking, the handle turning, and your heart leaps into your throat. The thought of finally, finally having Astumu all to yourself makes you absolutely giddy.

You turn expectantly, and can’t help the way your lips curl upward into a smile.

Atsumu pushes the door open and turns toward you, already smiling when he opens his mouth.

 “Hey.” You murmur.

 “Hey.” He breathes back, and you watch the way his features relax at the sight of you. The way the confident, assiduous Atsumu Miya--a man who wakes up every single day and strives for perfection in everything and every one---melts into something softer.

Something that’s silently begging for you to tear him apart and piece him back together again.

He slips off his shoes, drops his gym bag to the floor, and brings his long, heavy body to lay over yours on the couch.

His face--tinted pink (presumably from the drinks)--buries itself against your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

Your fingers assume their familiar position, nestled in the blonde locks atop his head.

 “Missed you…” You say lowly against his ear.

The small shiver that runs down his spine does not escape your notice.

 “I’ve been here every night!” He protests.

 “You know what I mean.” Your fingers press against his head, tugging on the strands the slightest bit.

 “Mmm…” He affirms softly--your skin keenly feeling the gentle hum against its surface. He knows what you mean. He’s been here, yes, but it’s felt more like the ghost of him--wisping into your bed for a few hours and gone again in the morning.

 “You were really in the zone today.” You comment. “I felt bad for the other team.”

 He huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t. They played fine. We were just better.”

 “Hmm…” You take your unoccupied hand and run a single finger up the curve of his spine.

 He exhales, and you listen for the tremble in his breath you know will be there.

Just a little more.

 “Either way, you were so good.” You can’t contain the coy lilt your voice takes on. You know damn well what you’re doing--using the very words that always make him quiver. He knows what you’re doing, too.

Atsumu thinks he doesn’t mind.

 It’s quiet for a beat. The two of you simply basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed against each other. You stretch beneath him, and… readjust yourself in a way that presses your breasts against him just a little bit more...

And Atsumu finally, finally breaks.

 He inhales sharply, and lets the subsequent exhale freely pass against your neck. A muffled word that sounds a lot like a plea leaves his throat.

 “What was that?” You ask, purposely grazing your lips against his reddening ear.

 “Please…” He begs.

 You consider being mean for a moment. Consider pushing him to his limit in desperation. The way those sharp brown eyes would turn glassy and tearful, his dark brows pulled together, pleading you to hurry up and take him--touch him--let him touch you--fucking anything. However you want, wherever you want. Make him vocalize that burning desire, and only concede when he well and truly begs.

 But that can always be arranged another time.

You’re far too heady with desire yourself to enact such cruelty on him right now. Not after he’s been so good.

 You shift your weight, moving to switch your positions by sitting up and pressing him beneath you. Your straddle his hips, purposely pressing your weight down against his pelvis ever-so-slightly.

 “You’ve been working so hard, ‘Tsumu…” You murmur, lowering the top half of your body to lean over his. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt, running up along the taut muscles that tremble at your touch. “Such a good boy…”

Atsumu’s bites his lip in an effort to stifle the deep moan that leaves his chest. The way his body almost involuntarily reacts to that phrase every. single. time… It’s just too good to pass up.

You wet your lips.

 “Let me make you feel good.”

 And you press those lips ever-so-softly to the juncture between his jaw and neck. Soft touch turning to a light bite, and then back to a soothing kiss.

 Atsumu is crumbling--his hardening length pressing insistently against you.

 “I got everything ready. We can use whatever you want: rope,” and you press a slow open-mouth kiss to his neck,

“your collar,” then one to his collarbone,

“a toy,” traveling down to his pecs,

“the strap…” ending just beneath his belly button.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, watching keenly for his expression to shift in interest at any certain one.

 Atsumu doesn’t give an immediate answer, his gaze unable to meet your own. Your hands trail back down his body, grazing a nipple with your fingernail just to see the way he twitches at the sensation. 

 “C’mon baby, how am I supposed to treat my good boy if he doesn’t tell me what he wants?” You purr, bringing your hands to the hem of the worn, oversized t-shirt covering your top half down to the juncture of your thighs. You’d snatched it from his dresser earlier to lounge in. Another carefully plotted detail. You knew just how riled up he got at the sight of you wearing his shirts. Even more so if he lifted it only to find those black and gold lacy panties underneath… Or if there was nothing…

Stretching your body, you pull the shirt up and off of your torso, tossing it aimlessly behind you. Atsumu’s gaze immediately returns to you--spotting that very set’s match: a black bra with intricate gold stitching around the lace adorning your skin. His hands are on you in an instant--palms sliding up your ribs to reach your breasts and gently squeezing around them.

Astumu had never been good with the concept of patience.

 Normally, you’d stop those big, calloused setter hands in their tracks--admonishing him for not asking permission, first. But this was about him. About fulfilling every whim his exhausted mind and body had the energy left to want. You could allow a little insubordination tonight.

 “You even wore my favorite.” He grins, that cheeky, self important tone of his sneaking back out. You smile coyly and tilt your hips downward, pressing your bare core against his still-restrained cock. He inhales sharply--dropping the attitude once more.

 “Part of the reward.” You grin. “Now, what does my good boy want?”

 His eyes drift upwards from their fixation on your breasts, meeting your gaze.

 “I want…” He bites his lip. “Wanna make you feel good.”

 Your eyes widen at the admission, but he’s speaking again before you can inquire.

 “You’re always so patient with me when practice gets like this. I just want to... To give you a reward, too.”

 You’re taken aback for a beat, pleasantly surprised at the acknowledgement. Atsumu still manages to surprise you with how observant he is. One of the more unexpected traits he shares with Osamu. Your eyes soften and you reach up to gently cup his face. He turns his head to kiss your hand and murmurs against your palm.

 "Let me taste you. Please."

 He knows how you get when he’s busy like this. How--despite your authority and confidence in the bedroom--you still long for his affection and crave his touch when he’s gone.

And this… This is the perfect way for him to express his gratitude while still pleasing both of you.

 “Okay.” You breathe, moving to kneel over his face. “Whatever you want,” you gently drop your weight toward his mouth. “my sweet boy.”

 He practically preens at the praise, moaning against your core. Again, Atsumu demonstrates his struggle with patience and savoring the moment. In an instant, he’s gripping your thighs and pulling them closer against the sides of his face. You know you could sit your entire weight atop him and he’d thank you, but tonight calls for something gentler. It’s enough to know you’re the only person who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to watch the diligent, cocksure Astumu Miya, one of--if not the--best setters in Japan, become so vulnerable and desperate beneath you.

 He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly up from the start of your opening to the top of your clit.

 “Fuck, ‘Tsumu…” You moan, hands rushing to grasp at his hair. He groans, too, at the sensation of your fingers tugging--the hum sending a vibration through your body. You grind your hips, silently urging him on, and his tongue laves at your clit with small kitten licks. The feeling of those tiny, gentle laps against your most sensitive spot, so diligent and soft--it’s like electricity coursing through you, running up into every limb.

 “Mmhmm.” He hums against you. He knows just how you like it. When he services you like this--like the obedient puppy he is. “So wet… Y’taste s’good...” He says, hot breath fanning against you while he catches his breath for a moment.

 You press yourself back against him insistently. “Who said you could take a break? Use your fingers, too.”

 His mouth is back against you immediately, right hand sliding beneath your thigh to reach your opening. Carefully, he presses two fingers against it--testing the give, while his tongue continues to lick and suck at that sensitive nub. Spit has dribbled down from his mouth to where his fingers are pressed, and he slides his digits against the wetness, adding to the natural lubricant. Then, finally, he pushes those long middle and ring fingers up and into you. They slide in easily despite the way you feel yourself clench around the intrusion. He was right--you’re soaked. He finds a comfortable rhythm to compliment his tongue’s lashings easily and your head falls back, a deep moan escaping past your lips.

 “‘Tsumu… ‘Tsumu, fuck just like that--you do it so well for me, baby… Right there--”

 You’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers curling within you--searching, and then pressing against that spot so nicely.

Your thigh muscles twitch against his cheeks--breath fleeing from your lungs at the sudden rush.

 “Yes, ‘Tsumu--fuck yes.”

 You chance a look down at his face. Those long lashes closed, brows knit together in concentration while he pleasures you. Atsumu’s a pretty boy, but you think he’s prettiest like this.

 Fuck, you want more of that desperate expression. Want to edge him over and over until he’s drooling and can’t remember his own fucking name.

 You’re getting close. That climbing ecstasy rising dangerously high within you. You pull yourself off him before you can climb too high, and the release of suction from his mouth makes a small, wet pop.

 “You eat it so well, baby. So, so good for me, pretty boy.” You coo, caressing the sides of his face. His lips are pink and wet and you return your hips to their place atop his length. His lip wobbles with a whimper, back arching against you in search of more.

 “I think you’ve earned your reward now, don’t you?” Your eyelids fall, half-closed seductively while you lean your chest toward his face. You reach behind your back and release the clasp of your bra. His hands tighten themselves into fists, trying to restrain the urge to reach up and touch. The fingers of your left hand splay out against his chest, holding your weight, while the right moves down to pull off his boxer briefs. Then, your wet folds are sliding against his erect, bare, length. Slowly, up and down.

 “Mmm please can I--can I touch--”

 You interrupt him with a small lick against those still-wet lips and chuckle quietly to yourself.

 Oh, so now he’s ready to ask first?

 “You can.” You affirm, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. His breath is coming harder now, those hardened pecs rising and falling beneath you. The anticipation is rapidly unraveling him. Atsumu’s hands are on your back, tugging your chest back down towards him. As they slide forward around your ribcage to grasp your breasts, his gaze flits up to you.

 “Can I--?”

 “Mmhmm.” You nod--knowing what he wants. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking with that perfect amount of harshness to tighten the coiling pressure in your lower body. His tip rests right against your opening. You can see the precum dribbling out of him--can feel the way he’s pushing himself slightly further up--desperate to get inside. Were this any other time,  you’d reprimand him for such impertinence. Tie his hands above his head and deny him completely. ‘And you were being so good, too, asking permission and everything. You wanna be inside that bad, maybe I should remind you how it feels to be on the receiving end, hmm?’

But, honestly, he’d nearly tipped you over the edge with just his mouth earlier. You were becoming impatient, yourself. 

 Finally, blessedly, you sink yourself down onto his cock, revelling in the way his mouth falls open and his head flings backward against the couch pillow with a cry.

 “Mmm.. ‘s it that good, baby?” You tease.

 “‘S been a while… So tight…” He hisses, almost like it’s too much.

 “Yeah?” You tease. Your hips are gradually picking up speed. Slowly rising up, up, up, as far as you can go before it feels like he might just fall out of you, and then your hip fall again, taking his full length deep inside.

 “‘Tsumu…” You say, rising back up again. “I wanted to pamper you tonight... “ and you slide back down. “Give my cute, sweet boy a reward for all his hard work.”

 Atsumu keens, whimpering beneath you.

 “But I think I wanna be a little selfish, too.” You breathe, leaning in close enough for your breath to fan against his face. “Is that ok baby?”

 A high pitched moan leaves Atsumu’s throat, and you clench around him.

 “Yes…” He sighs between ragged breaths. “Yes... Please, I--”

 “Please, what?” You interrupt him.

 “P-please…” You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “Please, mommy…”

 “Ohhhhh, that’s my good boy.” You moan, restarting the rise and fall motion of your cunt around him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Just the way you deserve, ‘Tsumu. But you have to promise you won’t cum until I say so, mmk?” You’re holding his face, running your right index finger along the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.

 And Astumu Miya shudders beneath you, staring up in reverence. The way those big brown watery eyes look at you… He’d look so cute with a collar clasped around his neck right now.

 He nods. “I--I won’t. I promise. Please.”

 Your hand moves up to stroke his hair softly. “Good boy.”

 You restraighten your back in your seated position atop him. Your hands come to rest against his chest for leverage, and you begin riding him in earnest. Atsumu’s eyelids fall closed again, head thrown back while his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

 “Is this what you wanted ‘Tsumu? Just want to feel me fuck myself on you until I’m satisfied?” You tease as you bounce. You slow to almost a halt and grind your hips in a circle, feeling the way his cock buries itself to the hilt. Atsumu’s hands are balled into tight fists against the couch. He’s moaning freely now--little cries escaping him as your cunt eagerly swallows him down over and over and over again.

“So good… You’re so good inside me, ‘Tsumu. Stretching me out so much every time. I know you know how good that feels.”

 “Ahnn--!” He keens at the memory. The way your soft hands had pressed his legs up against his chest. Wetness from the lube dripping down so tantalizingly slow between his ass cheeks. The cock of your strap buried within him. How utterly full he had felt, stretched around it while you softly cooed praises at him, stroking his cock.

 Fuck he wanted to cum like that again.

 More than that, he just wanted to cum. His hands clench and unclench--mouth hanging open while he revels in memory--in the feeling of your tight, wet, heat sliding up and down him just how he likes--how he needs.

 “I told you it was OK to touch, baby.” You reach down to grasp his hands with your own, bringing them to rest on your hips. “Hold onto me while I fuck myself on you.” You whisper.

 Atsumu’s eyes open at that, watching your body bounce on him. HIs left hand hastily comes up to grasp a breast, relishing the feel of the soft, pliable skin in his grasp.

 You gasp lightly at the sensation of his hand grazing your sensitive nipple. “Fuck yeah. So good for me baby--so good. Gonna make you cum in me like this--”

 Atsumu’s head falls back against the cushions again, his expression knotted in pleasure. “You feel so good. So good… Please… Please I’m-- Ahh!-- I’m getting close.”

 “Aww you’re close already? You wanna cum baby?” You shouldn’t tease. You know you’re close, too. That cresting peak getting closer and closer with every push of his cock into your deepest places. Your breath is ragged from the exertion of your body. You reach behind you blindly, refusing to miss an instant of Atsumu’s delicious expression. Eventually, you find the small bullet vibrator you’d stashed beneath the cushions earlier. You bring the toy to your clit and immediately feel it; that powerful wave looming just behind--threatening to take you over the edge. You steele yourself the best you can, inhaling deeply.

 Atsumu slides his eyes open at the sound and unleashes the mostly ungodly, moan. His voice trembles when he speaks.

 “Can I--can I come? Please--please baby let me come. Let me come.” His hands hold fast to your hips, grip growing steadily tighter as the sensations continue to climb. Faster now--exponentially faster. He’s not sure he could stop if he wanted to.

 “Mmmm hearing you beg like that… Good boy. You can cum, baby. I’ll even cum with you for being so good. Go ahead. Cum in this tight pussy.” Your words are rushed, breath catching here and there. “Give it to me.”

 And Atsumu shatters.

 The way his cry lilts up--high-pitched and unabashed. That wave crashing into him so hard and so completely it takes you down under with him. Atsumu’s mind is empty. Nothing but blinding white as he expends everything he has in him in an instant. His name spills past your lips over and over like a mantra while you ride out your high. The two of you so in-sync, it feels as though your cunt convulses in time with his every pulse. Everything feels so, astonishingly good and intimate.

 You’re both breathing heavily, eyes shut tight as that shared bliss slowly dissipates. You let yourself come down to rest on his chest. It’s suddenly very quiet save for your shared breaths. Eventually you rise onto your elbows, face directly over his.

 “I love you…” Atsumu murmurs, eyes slightly flitting about while he studies the intricacies of your face. He memorized them all long ago, but even in this he is never sated. Your eyes soften, chest fluttering at his tone: so tender and soft.

 “I love you, too.” You say, gently caressing his face. “So much.”

 Atsumu can’t help the smile spreading across his face. In one quick motion, his arms are around your neck and tugging your face down toward him. His head tilts, lips melding themselves against yours when they make contact. The kiss is unusually tender, his lips trying to convey what his words cannot: how he is so thankful and lucky to have you. You, who understands how dear his passion, his career, is to him yet helps him remain grounded so that it does not consume him entirely. You, who remains so, so patient when he is away. You, who is always there to help him take care of himself when he is too busy or exhausted. You, who holds him when he finally fractures under the stress of giving his everything all the time--and who helps him put his pieces back together again and get back at it.

 Your head returns to its resting place on his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath you, lulling you to sleep. You both need to get up, clean up, and get into your actual bed, but the bliss of finally feeling Atsumu’s hard body beneath you. Knowing it is completely yours, at least for a short while… You don’t want to relinquish it for even a second.

There’s another beat of silence before you speak.

 “Wanna go to ‘Samu’s and get tuna tomorrow?” You ask.

 Atsumu groans his approval loudly--so much so one would think he hadn’t just finished a massive meal with the Jackals. That signature cheeky grin returns to his face.

 “Oh my god I love you.”

[miraeluc]

you have an eating disorder

prompt: “you never had issues with food - that is until your boyfriend makes a remark about your weight.”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female! reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: MAJOR TW!! anorexia, there’s swearing

genre: fluff, angst 

NOTE: this is not proofread at all and it’s kinda short, i was struggling to finish it a lot, sorry :(

you were never one to pay special attention to your diet or anything

life is short, why spend it worrying about how your body looks?

food is food man, and you need it to live 

there was no fun in dieting either, it’s not like you were ever fat anyway - with daily training you were in shape!

sure there were thinner girls, but like i mentioned, you just liked enjoying food without having to worry about losing weight all the time 

your boyfriend, bakugo, just does not know how to express himself 

he’s not the type to really pay any mind to your figure, he finds you pretty anyway 

and its a plus anyway - whenever he feels full he can just push his plate towards you and you’ll gladly finish it for him 

that is until one day

you were sitting with the baku squad at lunch

mina was telling you about a new tiktok trend she had stumbled upon and found hilarious 

denki was currently fighting for his life against bakugo after saying his hair looked like he was just hit by an electricity quirk before he proceeded to zap him lightly 

kirishima was regretting all of his life decisions when he decided to try and help denki 

sero was just sat there,, recording it so he could show them just how stupid they looked afterwards

kirishima finally managed to pull said angry-boy away from kaminari 

you always said he’s like a little angry pomeranian when angry lol 

back to the plot omg i got carried away

after bakugo was calm enough to take his initial seat beside you, he was already too full and just overall not hungry

so he pushed his plate towards you 

“eat up, fatass.” he grumbled out

you just looked up at him with wide doe-eyes, not expecting an insult to slip off his tongue

it was bakugo, what’d you expect lmao 

you looked down at the plate, suddenly feeling very not hungry anymore, instead pushing the plate away as you grabbed your bag to stand up

“actually, i’ll head up to my room, i feel a bit sick”

you immediately left after that, not seeing the confused glances the table exchanged, mina smacking bakugo’s head

you went to your room and laid down, not knowing why bakugo’s comment had made you feel upset

you never get upset when he makes dumb remarks!!

so why now!!

oh 

you realised it when you were stood in front of the mirror, shirt lifted, staring at your own body

you did gain some weight.

you were upset at yourself because you usually didn’t mind!!

you know weight fluctuates, you know the small amount of chub you have will eventually pack it’s little bags and leave again 

but it hurt because you wanted to be pretty for your boyfriend.

how could you be when he says you’re a fatass?

eventually, you ended up scrolling through your phone, looking at thin girls all day

you also looked up a few diets that worked very fast 

by the time bakugo was aggressively knocking at your door you had closed all of the pages you were previously looking at 

as soon as you swung the door open he strutted in, seating himself on your bed

“what was with you running off at lunch today?” he looked at you 

you were still stood at your door like.... mm ok i guess make yourself at home 

“huh? i told you, i felt a little sick.” you mumbled, closing the door again, it was getting late and you were not looking to be beheaded by aizawa

he scoffed “if you say so.” he laid down, kicking your blanket to the side

“i brought you some snacks - incase you got hungry..” he said, his face looking like >:( 

he didn’t get them because he knew you liked them and wanted to make you happy! not at all!!

he just didn’t want to put up with you being whiny

that’s for sure the reason 

you giggled, throwing yourself ontop of him - sounds of protest coming from him but he did wrap his arms around you 

“since when are you so nice, katsuki?!” you teased

lol wrong move 

in 0.01 seconds you were flipped over and held down as he started tickling you 

“i’m not nice!”

the next morning you left extra early to avoid getting breakfast with bakugo

he didn’t seem to be bothered by it, he also has days where he just doesn’t feel like eating early in the morning so 

it does start to bother him when that one day of skipping breakfast turned into every day

his google search bar is like 

‘why does my gf not eat’

‘do girls not eat breakfast’

but this bitch is also too scared to approach you at first because he doesnt want you to know he truly cares 

his ego is still too high for that 

but you know better

you know he cares but sometimes you don’t feel good enough for him

you can’t help but compare yourself to other girls at your school

you distance yourself unknowingly, lost in the counting calories and exercising every day

everyone but you notices that you’re literally spiraling 

you don’t notice that you look sick, skin paling and cheekbones getting more prominent every passing day 

you don’t notice the growing eyebags under your eyes 

all you notice is other pretty girls and how you want to look like them.

at first, your friends decide to give you some space, thinking that maybe you have to fix this within yourself and need space

and you do, but someone needs to snap you out of your little bubble 

that someone is bakugo 

so it goes like this 

during training, he noticed your legs being a little more wobbly than usual 

and he noticed that you were unfocused, not being able to dodge all of the enemies attacks 

but something inside of him snaps when aizawa has to stop the fight because you were not even fighting back anymore

before aizawa even arrived in front of you, your world went black and you collapsed

bakugo was so angry at your training enemy 

didn’t they fucking see your struggle?? 

did they really have to be stopped by their teacher??

would they even have stopped if it werent for aizawa?? 

probably not

but he didnt have time to go and yell at them because he was running towards you 

aizawa let him pick you up

“bring her to recovery girl.”

of course he did 

everyone watching was so shocked 

because bakugo didn’t let out a sound the entire time 

his face was pulled into a frown, as usual, but he wasn’t speaking- no, yelling

he showed past his classmates, walking towards recovery girl’s office

“ribbit, why was he so quiet?”

recovery girl was like ?!?!?! what the fuck happened when was the last time she ate

she had to give you a total parenteral nutrition

(that means nutrition/fluids are delivered into your body via a catheter placed in a vein of your body, usually lower arm)

when you woke up bakugo was sat next to the bed, reading the back of some medicine bottle he found there

when he noticed you awake he perked up a little, shoulders visibly relaxing

“what happened?” 

he narrowed his eyes, wondering for a second if you were serious 

“you’re starving yourself to near death, that’s what happened.”

you immediately grimaced

“did i pass out in front of everyone?”

“is that seriously what you’re worried about?!”

you remained quiet, looking away

“y/n, look at me.” he gently guided your head to face him

“i don’t know what drove you to do this to yourself, but i need you to stop. you’re going to die if you don’t stop. what idiot made you think you need to do this to yourself?! i’ll kill them!”

..

“you told me i was a fatass”

his jaw dropped

fuck

“you know i don’t mean when i insult you! i hide the fucking fact that i WANT you to eat by using insults! i’m so sorry..”

his voice went soft at the end

he truly felt so bad :(

he was the one that was supposed to protect you from others hurting you yet here he was, being the one that caused you to hink you weren’t worthy enough

“i know, but there’s so many much more prettier girls than me, i was afraid you’d lose feelings if i wasn’t thin enough.”

“are you kidding?! you’re the only one i have eyes for! all those other extra’s can fuck off, i don’t give a single shit about them!”

you were kinda tearing up

“do you promise?”

god, he felt so bad.

he sat on the edge of the bed, reluctantly pulling you in a hug 

“i promise”

from that day on he made sure to remind you to eat meals, even if it was just something small

he ripped everyone’s heads off if they made a comment about your eating habits and/or weight

and he made sure you were the only one he loved

the day he saw you collapse something broke inside of him

it opened his eyes that hiding his emotions from you wouldn’t help you in your relationship

so while he supported you to build your feelings of self-worth and eating habits, you helped him start to open up, teaching him that showing emotions wasn’t embarassing

no one else knew how soft he could get with you and it should stay that way

you had a long way to go but it was all worth it in the end

he was your little angry pomeranian <33

requests: open

read rules before requesting.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[elias-code]

The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

-

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

-

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

-

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

-

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

-

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

[cayofdreams]

Relieving Their Sleepy Stiffy~

~A Mini Fic Collection~

(Feat. Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Katsuki Bakugou)

Summary: self-explanatory really

Words: approx. 1k per character; 3.3k total

Rating: 🌊 Explicit, Smut 

Warnings: somnophilia, oral (giving), hand job (giving), humping/grinding, the ruining of clothes with pre-cum 🤪

-------------------------🌼-------------------------

Eijirou Kirishima – Stiff Muscle Massage

You and Kirishima had both passed out on the bed after coming back home from an intense workout at the gym. Usually the two of you would make protein smoothies and watch a bit of reality TV but something about that new leg workout really took a toll on you both. You had been asleep for about 30 minutes before waking up next to a still sleeping Kirishima. Tracing your fingers along his bare chest, you admired his well-formed pectoral and ab muscles. He really had to have had the best body of all the previous boyfriends you’d been with.

As you placed your head on his chest, you continued to trace along his stomach, his body subconsciously twitching due to touching him in ticklish areas. Your eyes started to feel heavy again at his peaceful heartbeat before you saw something intriguing through your fuzzy vision. It seemed not everything of Kirishima’s body was sore and drained from the recent workout.

You giggled at him before sliding your body down so your head was now resting on his thigh, right beside his pitched tent. Softly petting over his clothed length, you placed soft kisses on his hips and thigh. His soft grunts egged you on, so you got on your forearms and laid your torso right between his legs. You hovered over his crotch, letting your hot breath warm him underneath.

“Does my baby need a post-workout massage?” You placed pecks over his clothed hardness as your fingers traced him up and down. “I’ll take care of you, Kiri~”. Sucking over his pants, you let your saliva soak through the fabric, causing Kirishima’s cock to grow stiffer by the increasing wetness. You grazed your teeth over him admiring the sleepy whimpers he made from above. Eventually you were able to taste the salty pre-cum seeping through his pants which let you know it was time for the next stage.

You slowly pulled down his pants, stopping whenever it seemed like he was about to wake up. He worked so hard today so you wanted to make sure he was completely relaxed through his oral massage. When you were able to lower his pants enough, his cock sprung free and bounced against his abs, already shining with your saliva and his pre-cum. You took the base of his cock between your thumb and middle finger and glided your tongue up and down his shaft. You made sure he stayed asleep by pausing when his groans got too loud.

Periodically keeping your eyes on his face, you took his tip in your mouth and slithered the bottom of your tongue over his slit. You felt the vein in his cock bulge against your thumb and you let out little moans to create stimulating vibrations. When it seemed his body got used to those movements, you lowered your head letting the tip of his cock graze against the back of your throat. He was a little big but after much practice you were able to take more and more of him in your mouth without gagging. Judging by the moans leaving him, it seemed he appreciated that.

Pretty soon, Kirishima’s cock was smothered in your saliva as you bobbed your head up and down. You swept the hair out of your face, becoming entranced by his throbbing cock and harsh grunts. You tasted more of his pre-cum filling your mouth and the taste made you feel wet underneath your shorts. But you wanted to focus primarily on your tired boyfriend so you left your underwear to collect your horny essences for now. Becoming so entranced with Kirishima’s meaty cock, you didn’t notice him waking up until you felt his hands caressing your head.

“Whatcha doin, babe?” His voice was raspy from his groggy state as he lifted his head to get a better view. His voice seemed to resonate through his cock and you felt the vibrations on your tongue. You popped his cock out of your mouth to which his face twitched at the feeling.

“I’m giving you a post-workout massage.” You licked and sucked at his frenulum. His eyes squinted at the intense pleasure on the area. “Do you feel good?”

Before letting him properly answer, you sunk his cock back in your mouth, letting yourself deep throat him. Constricting your throat muscles, you made sure he could get the same feelings as being inside your tight pussy. If not better. You breathed through your nose as you swallowed his cock to the base, sticking out your tongue so that its tip gently tickled over his balls.

“F-fuck yeah, babe. Feels fucking amazing…” His fingers gripped gently at your hair as he savored in your athletic tongue. “Please don’t stop. Fuck!”

Popping him out of your mouth again, you made spit bubbles on his cock as you looked up at his flustered face. “Don’t worry, baby. Just relax and focus on feeling good, okay?”  

He simply nodded as he let his head plop back onto the bed. He felt your pools of saliva drip onto his tip before you slurped it back into your mouth. The wet sounds you were making brought him closer to the edge. “Shit Y/N, m-move your head. I’m gonna cum!”

Still working your tongue on him, you slurpily replied. “Jush leh it ouh, babe~ I can chake it.” You sucked vivaciously at the upper end of his shaft, while your hand messily stroked the bottom. The copious amount of saliva flung over his thighs as you jerked him. “I wann yor cumm, baby~”

“Fuck!” Kirishima cursed as wads of his cum spurt down your throat. His grip on your hair tightened as you kept sucking the cum out of him. You didn’t swallow it, instead slurping it around his head creating more wet stimulations for him. “Shit, Y/N! Oh my god…”

Slipping his cock form your mouth after he was done, you lifted your head so he could see you swish his cum with the saliva in your mouth. Almost as if you were savoring it like a sweet wine. You made a loud gulp as you slowly swallowed all of it, looking lustfully into his eyes. “Mmm~ so thick, Eiji.”

Kirishima could’ve came again from the little show you just performed. He licked his lips as he grabbed at your arms, pulling you forward so he could now grip at your thighs. 

“I think its only right for me, as a man, to return the favor. Come sit on my tongue, babe.”

-------------------------🌼-------------------------

Denki Kaminari – Mutual Study Break

You were helping Kaminari with his studying in your room, going over his last exam trying to help him better understand the questions he got wrong. It was a bit taxing because at first you didn’t know how to explain certain things, but eventually you were able to break down the question in a way that made it more understandable. In a way, helping him helped you as well since having to explain a complex problem to someone really tests your own knowledge of the material. After about an hour or so, it seemed Kaminari was growing tired of looking at the exam material and he plopped his head down on the coffee table.

“Y/N~ I need a break.” He let out with an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes. He looked kind of cute being so sleepy after a nice study session but you were determined to help him improve.

“C’mon Denki, I really want you to learn this.” Stroking your finger along his cheek, you heard a faint grumble at your request.

“Please~ just 10 minutes, I swear.”

Before you could even reply you heard a soft snore purring from him and you couldn’t help but just give in to his adorableness. You leaned down to his lips and gave them a small kiss.

“Only because you’re cute, okay.” You softly whispered, making sure your voice didn’t disturb his nap. Pleased with his sleeping face, you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through social media.

As you caught up on various hero topics, you lost track of time and realized it had been 30 minutes since you let Kaminari rest his tired brain. Gently rubbing your hand along his back, you tried to wake him up.

“Denki, wake up. There’s only a little bit left to go.”

“Hnnggh…” His eyebrows twitched at your voice but he was still sound asleep. You decided to lean down into his ear and whisper to him.

“Denk- heh?” That’s when you noticed his reddened cheeks and strained facial expression. You thought he might be sick, so you placed your hand on his forehead to check if his body temperature was warmer than normal. It seemed fine though, but you were still a bit concerned. Until you heard him whimpering your name in his sleep.

“Haahnn~ Y/N- feels so good…”

It didn’t take you too long to realize that he was having a wet dream- and starring you no less. It made you kind of happy that your boyfriend was a simp for you asleep just as much as he was when awake. So being the flattered and concerned girlfriend you were, you peeked under the table to see if he were having any other reactions. Unsurprisingly, you saw a nice tent being pitched underneath his jogger pants.

“Aww, Charge Bolt needs de-stressing, huh?” You dipped your hand under the table and rubbed along his clothed erection, smirking at his whiney, but sleepy reply. Kissing along his red cheeks, you placed more pressure on his growing cock and before long you felt the seeping of his pre-cum through his pant fabric. You rubbed it between your fingertips, chuckling at how much he was leaking despite his sleeping state. “No wonder you couldn’t focus, Denki.”

“Y/N~ Inside…” A bit of saliva drooled out of his lips at his whimper and onto his notebook. You wiped it up with your thumb before slipping your hand in his pants, smearing it on his tip with his abundant pre-cum.

“You can’t come inside, baby. You haven’t finished studying.” You continued to press chaste kisses along Kaminari’s face as you stroked up and down his shaft. The increasing amount of pre-cum made you able to stroke at faster and faster paces, allowing you to hear louder and cuter moans leave his sleeping lips.

“Hnnmmgh~ Y/N...”

The lewd adorableness of it all made you slick between the hips yourself, so you spread one of your legs across him and slipped your free hand down your shorts and panties. Flattening your fingers around your pussy lips, you circled around your clit, smearing your juices all over your inner thighs. Eventually you increased your pace to be equivalent to the hand stroking your boyfriend’s cock. “Ahhnn~ Denki, you make me feel good even when you’re sleeping.”

“…Y/N~ gonna cum...” More slobber fell from his lips as his breathing became more labored. His hips started to subconsciously thrust into your hand, trying to chase his dream-filled high. Apparently, his body was too stimulated because you were soon met with his golden irises. “Y/N...Y/N~!” He raised his head and gripped at your arm that was heartedly pumping at his cock. “Oh fuck!”

“Hahh…You had a sleepy boner, babe. You must’ve worked so hard while studying~” You continued to simultaneously jerk and flick with your hands while gazing at Kaminari’s extremely flustered face.

“I-Its because the way you were sitting with those s-shorts on! Your thighs are so gorgeous, Y/N!” He gasped as you lowered your hands to tighten around his base.

“Just my thighs though?” You feigned an innocently upset expression as you held his cock hostage in your hand.

“A-All of you! All of you is gorgeous, Y/N!”

Smiling, you went back to your jerking his cock. “Aww, thank you, babe.” You leaned over to capture him into a kiss, his tongue mindlessly licking around your lips as he focused on his building orgasm. “Gonna cum from my hand?” He nodded eagerly as his grip on your arm tightened.

You leaned your head back as you quickened the motions around your clit, also about to reach an orgasm. “Me too, Denki~”. Kaminari’s cock twitched wildly in your palm and you stroked harder around the head in hopes you both would reach a mutual orgasm. “Oh shit-! D-Denkii!” Your eyes rolled back as your pussy quivered under your hand.

Meanwhile Kaminari’s hot cum was being spilled all over your knuckles. You slowed your pumps on his cock, essentially re-lathering him with his own lubricant. As the two of you regained your breaths, you slipped your hand out of his pants, his cum sticking on all of your fingers. Kaminari laid his head back down on the table, sighing as exhaustion dwelled over him again. You got up to wash your hands in the sink and looked back at your tired boyfriend.

“You ready to try Question #7 again?”

“W-what?!”

-------------------------🌼-------------------------

Katsuki Bakugou – In Heat

Bakugou was taking a nap on your bed after a long day at his internship, and it honestly irked you. It seemed like nowadays when he came over all he did was eat or sleep because he was too tired for any other nightly activities. How could he just lay there on your bed with that beautiful face of his and not at least submerge it between your thighs? What was the point of all that stamina if he wasn’t going to share it with you?

You’d make sure to complain about it when he woke up, but he was just too cute to disturb right now. This of course was probably the only time you’d get to bask in the peacefulness of Katsuki Bakugou. You decided to grab your phone and watch a movie as you distracted yourself from your horniness. Everything was going fine until- a sex scene popped up. Just your luck. Deciding to be petty, you turned up the volume to max so that the moans of the actors would wake up your boyfriend and hopefully he’d get a clue.

“Oiii wake up and fuck me, already.” You softly spoke into his direction. He lazily grunted but was still very much asleep. “Stingy.”

You were about to give up when you noticed the moans from the movie did seem to get a reaction out of him, a reaction his sleeping state was not aware of, of course. “Aha! So the bastard does work.”

Turning down the volume so he would now not wake up any further, you spread your leg over his hip so that you were sitting directly on his crotch. You snickered over his sleeping face having rarely had such a domineering stance over him. “Yeahh~ Just stay asleep, Katsu. I’ll have fun by myself.”

You placed your hands on his chest to steady your position and slowly grinded away, stopping briefly when his eyebrows twitched like he was awaking from his slumber. The silky lace of your panties made for a sleeky smooth friction with his soft nylon shorts. The thinness of the material made it so that you could feel the increasing stiffness of his cock between your clothed labia. Your clit was nicely stimulated by the materials that separated the two of you.  

As you felt yourself get more aroused you couldn’t help but notice the pre-cum that started to drool through Bakugou’s shorts and smear onto your own panties. “Katsu~ You’re leaking so much for someone who’s been ignoring their girlfriend for so long. Prick.” Despite your harsh whispers, you leaned down so you were pressed chest to chest with him, softly peppering kisses along his jaw.  

You nuzzled yourself into his neck as you humped with increasing pressure against his cock. No longer caring if he woke up or not you let out soft moans that vibrated against his throat. “Hahh Katsuki, I can feel you throbbing~ You gonna cum?”

“With you humping like a bitch in heat like that? Hell no.” Bakugou’s raspy voice against your eardrums immediately stopped you in your chase of pleasure. You lifted your face and met his eyesight.

“That’s not what your leaky cock says.”

“Me?” Bakugou pushed his hands against your stomach so you’d sit up. Hooking his hand under the wing of your panties, he easily ripped them from your hips. He raised the panties in front of your face so you’d see the gusset that was lush with your juices. “Sweetheart, that’s all you.”

You grabbed your panties away from him before throwing them sharply on the floor. “That was your cock’s leakage seeping through.” Ignoring his rolling eyes, you leaned back down against his chest. “Now can I finish my business in peace, please?”

Bakugou slithered his hands down to your ass, grabbing at the jiggling fat. “Just hurry the fuck up. I’d like to actually do something that feels good at some point.” He grinded your ass further against his now damp shorts, giving your clit an insanely pleasurable amount of friction. But you wanted to feel something smoother so you slipped your hands between your bodies and tugged his shorts down. But only enough for half his cock to peek out from the waistband. You then readjusted your seating so that you could grind directly against his slickened cock.

“I don’t make you feel good, Katsuki?” You teased as you went to press lovingly tender kisses on his cheek and jaw.

“H-Hell no. Look how you’re selfishly humping away right now…how could this shit feel good for me?” Contrary to his verbal expression, Bakugou’s fingers were gripping tightly at your ass, desperately trying to get you to hump him more ruggedly. You could feel the imprints that would be decorated along your faint stretch marks. But two could play that game, so you wrapped your lips around a part of his throat, sucking deeply until the skin bruised. He twinged at the pain but kept his grip on your rear firmly pressed against him. “Who the f-fuck said you could do that, huh?”

“Ahhh~ you haven’t fucked me in so long I had to make sure you were still mine, Katsu.” As you  humped at his cock, you could feel the friction get more slippery as your pussy’s soppiness mixed with Bakugou’s pre-cum. The mess the two of you were making dripped over Bakugou’s hips and onto the bed sheets that lied below. Your clit swelled against his throbbing cock as the both of you became clouded with a looming orgasm.

“Shit- of course you’re mine. You always will be whether you fucking like it or not. Dumbass.” Bakugou’s grunts became more hoarse and his hips grinded up against you. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop- shit!” As you moaned in reply, Bakugou grasped one hand around your jaw and pulled you into a sloppy kiss. The feeling of his saliva swapping with yours felt almost as lewd as the desperate humping being performed by your hips.

Bakugou’s cock pulsated under your twitching clit as orgasmic waves washed over the both of you. You felt his hot cum seep into your thin pajama top and slicken over your navel.  He didn’t dare release your tongue from his until it felt like every drop had been drained from him, leaving you to whine and pant into his mouth. He softly kneaded at your ass cheek as your grinding slowed from your post-orgasmic, sensitive clit.

Thoroughly satisfied, he let go of your face so your head could drop exhaustingly onto his shoulder. “You’re changing the bed sheets, right? Seeing as how you started this?” He heard nothing but soft snoring in reply and he clicked his tongue.

“So damn spoiled.”

[honestlyfrance]

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky​​​ so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more! 

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Or

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Or

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Or

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Or

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

OR

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

[thekisforkeats]

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

[ereawrites]

Diego’s alarm blares you awake at 5:45AM - you know this without even opening your eyes because, unpredictable as Diego is, he always wakes up unreasonably early to work out. You know this because he always texts you at 6AM to bitch about how stiff his shoulders are.

Today, you’re sure, his whole body will be screaming at him. Having shown up at your door last night just after midnight, covered in dust and dirt and bruises, Diego had simply shrugged off your concerns.

“What-“, you started, but he was already sliding past you into your apartment. At least he had the decency to pat your cheek as he passed.

“Nothing to worry about.”, Diego said, rifling through your refrigerator as if it were his own. He didn’t need to know that you keep extra eggs in stock for him, after all. “I jumped out of a window, that’s all. Totally fine.”

His back was to you and you could still see his stupid little smile. “Well, excuse me for not figuring that one out right away. Unforgivable.”. He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, gingerly turning to face you with your last bottle of milk in hand.

“You want this for breakfast in the morning?”

You did. You absolutely did. He dropped off a box of your favourite cereal two days ago, claiming to have been ‘passing by’, and that was total bullshit because the closest store is 15 minutes’ walk away from your house, and he shouldn’t even have known your favourite cereal because Diego Hargreeves was very much not your boyfriend.

Anyway.

His bust lower lip had twisted up into a too-soft smile when you said, “Nah, go for it. Just don’t drink it so fast that you’re sick this time. I’ll be in the bathroom to help fix you up when you’re done.”

-

The window is now taking its revenge. Is this his karma for destruction of property, you muse to yourself as you stretch the kind of stretch that makes your whole body shake, or for waking you up last night? Diego grunts. The alarm shuts off and you hear his phone clatter unceremoniously back onto the nightstand.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry. Go back to sleep, I’ll be out of here in a minute.”. Bless his soul, he really does sound apologetic. Thankfully, the deep rumble of his first-thing-in-the-morning voice does wonders to put you in a good mood with him.

When you roll over to face him, you’re not quite sure what you notice first: the gentle, bleary brown eyes, or the bruise smacked right across his cheekbone. “Hm, it’s okay. How are you feeling?”

Diego’s palm envelops the back of your hand and gives a quick squeeze. “Great.”, he hums, despite how exhausted he looks. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll bring you breakfast after my workout.” - and you’re at least 60% sure he was born with persuasive powers, too, because the way he looks at you leaves you reeling in the early morning light, and he’s halfway sat up before you can even react.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. You need to rest today.”, you insist, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Diego is a stubborn little shit and he looks at you like you’re an idiot - sweetly, sympathetically, and you’d want to kill him if he hadn't managed to carve out such a soft spot in your chest. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and you permit it if only to admire them. It’s far too early for subtlety and, hey, Diego’s always loved flattery.

“I don’t have time.”

When flattery doesn’t work, reason is your next best bet. A little guilt can't hurt, either, right? You pout up at him. “Who’s committing crimes at 6AM, baby? It can wait.”

(You should not call Diego that. He is not your boyfriend.

His face lights up just a bit.)

“Troublemakers.”

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost with that approach. Diego flip-flops between sweetness and sarcasm as if he's attached to a particularly irritating bungee cord, promising you breakfast one minute and deliberately driving you crazy the next. With a brush of his thumb over your knuckles, he’s moving away and stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

You wag an accusatory finger at him, still squinting in the ray of sunlight that manages to penetrate through your broken shutters. You’ll get him to fix it later this week. “Troublemakers like the guys who crash through innocent windows?”

“That’s different-“

“-In fact,”, you smile, poking at the skin of his gorgeous back in a petty attempt to get his attention solely back on you. “Maybe I should report you to the police. Bring down the crime rates and all.”

“You’d love to see me in handcuffs, huh?”, he quips as he stands and stretches again, giving you a perfect view of those lithe muscles in action. Boy, would you ever. But the smugness in his voice is way too evident, even if you can’t see his face: your only option is to scoff. 

“You’d be lucky.”, which is absolutely true (because you would rock his shit), because you’re pretty sure Diego is all bark and no bite, because you’ve seen just enough of his hidden tender side to really believe all his cocky jokes. You try not to dwell on it too much, but a tiny part of your heart believes that maybe Diego really, really cares for you.

Maybe it’s because of how he leans back over the bed to hold your cheek in his palm. God, he has you crumbling with that look in his eyes sometimes. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

Then his touch is gone, and it’s so embarrassing how you almost chase after it, but you smush your face into the pillow with a sigh. He’s stubborn as a mule and you're too exhausted to put up much more of a fight. Maybe you should just let him go for his ridiculous workout. Let him push his tired body, and let him send you an extra bitchy text in half an hour. You’ll ignore him, really teach him a lesson. See how he likes that.

You're just beginning to snicker into the pillow when Diego bends down to grab his shirt, staggers on his bad leg, and whimpers in pain.

Oh, well. Not a chance he's leaving now.

Three weeks ago, Diego had insisted on giving you some sort of self-defence training, which you had only actually agreed to on the assumption that you’d be able to annoy the shit out of him with it later. The main focus had been on ‘using the opponent’s size against them’ - this was not the first time you’d understood the reason behind all the Batman jokes - and, oh, this is the perfect opportunity to test your new skills.

With all the grace of a drunken bull, you leap from the bed, nearly tripping on the tangled bedsheets, and wrap your arms around his waist. Diego reaches out to steady you even as you're dragging him back towards the bed, tumbling down with him in tow and turning the impact into a roll that leaves him on the far side of the bed, with you curled tightly around his back, arm draped across his chest. The final step is to sling your leg over his hip, effectively pinning him with the least possible pressure on his sore muscles.

“Honey-”, Diego begins, but then you're running your fingers through his hair and it dissolves into a quiet little oh that you’re sure looks perfect on those pouty lips. It strikes you that this is the first time Diego has let you hold him - you're always the little spoon, on the rare occasions that both of you give in to the desire to touch each other, and you’re shocked by how right it seems to feel him melt into your touch. All the fight vanishes from his body in seconds.

“…I sleep better when you’re here, you know.” - and it’s not using any tricks to get him to stay, it’s just the plain truth. Diego’s breath hitches in his throat. It’s partially for selfish reasons that you want him to stay in bed, you admit, but mostly because he deserves a rest for once. You worry for him more than you would ever let him know. He probably figures it out, anyway, once you give in and drop your forehead to rest against the back of his neck. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to care - it’s much nicer to just enjoy how he kisses your wrist on the next brush of your fingers through his hair.

He’s leaning into your hand even before he pretends to grudgingly concede. “Just another hour.”

You’ll see about that.

[fukurodaze]

october

pairing: third year!tsukishima kei x third year!fem!reader genre: fluff, suggestive word count: 2.7k warnings: cursing, mentions of hickeys, makeout session hehe synopsis: “tsukishima” and “high school sweetheart” are a unique combination of words

LISTEN TO: lowkey - niki; used to you - mxmtoon

lowercase intended!

nobody knows about this.

nobody knows about his offhand banter and longing gazes. if you and kei go back exactly five months from today, you’d be asking him a question about the research assignment as you were about to leave the library and he surprisingly follows his answer up with “i’m going home too. come with?”

nobody knows him on facetime, staying late until his eyes can barely open after a blink. you’re used to his texts, somehow so much funnier and warmer than everyone seems to know him. and maybe one day he’d kissed you; on the right temple, as you fell asleep on your bed; on the back of your shoulder, when he did it subconsciously during a movie. and maybe you kissed him too; a short peck on the lips when he went home through your front door; another on his calloused and bandaged hands after a block had left it bruised. 

nobody knows that now, you’re straddling the boy you’ve known for a while as you suck his tongue until he gets breathless. his hands roam up and down your body, finding themselves under your shirt and holding onto the bare skin of your waist like he can never let go. when he tugs on the hem of your shirt, bunching it up your torso, you let him take it off, the moment away from his lips making you realise his lips are swollen and his glasses have been thrown somewhere on your bed. you freeze for a bit when he spends a little too long staring at your body, and you freeze even more when you realise you’re not wearing the bra you would’ve liked for this occasion, but you’re cut off when he starts nipping on your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he mumbles, “you don’t have to suck in your stomach.”

you relax a little, small whimpers coming out of your mouth as he continues to work on your neck, the little shocks of pleasure filling your senses as hands on bare skin start to feel more familiar than foreign. you could get used to this. 

“wait, don’t leave any, uh, marks or hickeys or whatever,” you breathe, “people might see.”

he hums, and yet his grip on you tightens as you think he’s coming back to your lips, but he doesn’t. he just stops there, face inches away as his lips barely ghost yours. he purses his lips for a second, like he’s thinking of something to say, but the microwave makes its strange appearance when it beeps loud enough to make you jump a little in his lap. he still holds you close. 

so, so close. and nobody else knows.

“i’ll get the popcorn.” right, because tonight you had planned to watch a movie with him. like the usual - talk, cuddle, whatever. 

come to think of it, your relationship with kei sounds weird; feelings so well understood without ever being spoken. you liked it at first, when he told you he liked you on a saturday morning, your reciprocated feelings tasting of warm rice and milky eggs and an unspoken convention that this stayed between you two and you two only. but as the days passed, and the thrill of a secret relationship wore off, you’ve started to wonder how it would feel like to be able to show people that, yes, tsukishima kei is your boyfriend, and yes, you like him very much.

when you take your shirt, he says, “wear my hoodie. it’s cold.”

you grin when you hear that, opting to simply wear his hoodie without a shirt underneath. it’s the same black hoodie he wears literally all the time and probably doesn’t wash regularly (which is gross) but if there’s one thing you learned about these feelings is that you couldn’t care less.

when you pick up the popcorn, kei only lays against the headboard of your bed, feeling slightly empty at the words he’d heard from you. serves him right, he thinks as he picks his glasses back up; this relationship, or whatever it is, isn’t something both of you wanted everyone to know. he’d get sick of all the attention, and there was probably no need for the two of you to share everything. it’s high school anyways, who knows how long it’s going to last.

yet, when you come back into his room, lips soft and hair tousled, holding a bowl of fragrant popcorn, kei finds himself letting go of those thoughts.

you take a seat on the floor against your bed frame, already having set up the laptop in the middle of the floor. you motion to the boy on the bed to come down, and he brings your entire duvet with him.

as he settles next to you, your shoulder touching his upper arm, you set the popcorn in the space where your knee meets his thigh, over the blanket. the movie you two had decided on earlier tonight starts playing, and you feel your head slide into the crook of kei’s neck, like it always does. 

the night starts off slow; just the two of you making remarks at the movie, laughing at plot holes and cliches. then, by halfway, the bowl of popcorn is empty; as the protagonist kisses their love interest, you feel a flush up your cheeks; and as the movie ends, kei’s arm is around your waist, pulling you into his side. it’s a pretty shitty movie.

“well, that was a shitty movie.” 

“agreed,” you grunt as you stand up to place the bowl of popcorn on your desk, to be taken out at a later time. you fold your laptop onto your desk as well, and kei gets the cue to sprawl your duvet back onto your bed. it’s only nine pm. you climb back in your bed, motioning for him to come with you, too.

slowly, his tall figure holds yours in an embrace filled with something you could only identify as care and affection. and here, especially with his glasses off, sight blurry and only really being able to see you in full focus, it makes you grin at how strikingly different he can be in your room and at school. not that you had ever seen him at school very often, as most of your relationship was crafted of video calls and secret little dates in the night. 

you wonder if he’ll grow out of this.

“oh my god, something kind of funny happened today after the english exam,” you chuckle, your head resting comfortably on kei’s chest. he lets out a questioning hum.

“the girls in my class thought i was seeing osawa,” you stifle a laugh, “at me they were like, you’re definitely dating a guy from the basketball club.”

“wait, how’d they know you were dating someone?”

“word got out. they asked for details, and i told them he was in a sports club.”

“they didn’t think about the volleyball club?”

you shake your head, “they did, but they literally went - ‘we know it can’t be kageyama or tsukishima, so, yamaguchi?’” kei snickers at those words, remembering that even the boys in the volleyball club don’t know about you.

“i love how they just glossed over the chances of you with either me or kageyama,” kei tsks, “and who’s osawa?”

you roll your eyes, hearing his voice tinted with a bit of jealousy when he hears other people think you’d go better with this random guy at school. “he’s a guy i partnered up with for biology. why?”

“nothing. just good to know.”

“alright, whatever.” you flip over, your chin now pressing on the backs of your hands on his chest. your grin is wide. 

“your hoodie smells like sweat,” kei says, trying to divert the topic away from your eventual accusations of jealousy.

“it’s your hoodie, asshole!” you jokingly exclaim, and he pulls the hood up to your head. you look cute, he thinks, even with his over-worn hoodie and messy hair. it’s in moments like these, when the both of you let go of the fronts you put up at school, and just live like nobody else exists. of course, it will all be over in a few hours, but that’s not to say he doesn’t secretly text you under the desk during class or that you don’t have the liberty of an extra pack of chips in your locker from the early mornings kei has practice.

“okay, but, hoodie aside, you could’ve just said i was your boyfriend.”

you like the sound of it; something so distant yet so close. so you make him repeat it again, “wait, what did you say?”

kei exhales through his mouth, “you could’ve just said i was your boyfriend.”

“would you like a boyfriend badge with that?” you tease.

“shut up. at least it sounds better than you and osawa,” he mumbles, sitting up, leaning on his arms. “not that anyone would ever know about us.”

your arms wrap around your boyfriend’s neck. his eyes stare straight into yours, and though he still feels uneasy at first, he likes the feeling of you so near him, so warm and fluttery in his stomach. it makes you hope, at least, in the way he’s looking at you, that he might want to show you off more than he lets on. 

“you know, kei, it wouldn’t hurt for some people to know about us,” you mutter, almost a whisper, and he catches your words perfectly.

“but i hate how everyone shits on couples all the time.”

“no, you just shit on couples all the time.”

he sighs defeatedly, “okay, but everyone’s just gonna be annoying when they know. like they’re shoving their noses into our business.”

“yeah, but-”

“on top of that, my mom would constantly nag me about the details of our relationship. i don’t need everyone knowing so much about us.”

you fall silent, running out of things to say. admittedly, the way he’s so quick to shut down all your reasons is getting to you.

“see? there’s no point in other people knowing.” kei’s hands run under your hoodie to caress your bare skin. he likes the way you shiver slightly from the sudden coolness of his fingers, but it does give you an idea.

“i’ll let you leave marks under my school blouse.”

“as hot as that is, no.”

you groan, slouching against his larger frame. you shift your weight onto him, making him fall back on the bed, and you settle with lying beside him. kei, like the reluctant cuddle bug you’ve found him out to be, immediately wraps an arm around your torso, like every second spent at your house that doesn’t involve his limbs intertwined with yours is a second wasted. 

you exhale through your mouth, “kei, i just wanted to be proud.”

his grip tightens.

“like, we don’t have to tell everyone what happens between us every single day, but, god damn, i don’t want to keep sneaking you in like this, or having to send you off at like, four in the morning so nobody knows you were here.”

“do you care more about what other people think than how i feel?” now you’re letting it out. you realise you’re frustrated - so fucking frustrated - that you barely even get to see him every week because of school and clubs, and that you don’t even get to save his contact on your phone under his own name in fear that people might find out. all because nobody knows.

“no, i care about-”

“i want to hold your hand in public, kei. is that too much to ask?”

you take a deep breath, sitting up against the headboard, “my friends think i bail on them all the time. i want to tell them it’s because i’m going to see my boyfriend instead of some lame excuse, kei. and i want to cheer you on at the spring high nationals in january, because you talk to me about volleyball so much and i want to see my boyfriend do what he’s been working so hard for.”

there’s a hanging silence in the air, coupled with the whirring of your heater. you can’t make eye contact with him - what if he gets mad? your fingers fiddle with the string of his hoodie, knotting it and untying the knot. and it’s only then that he sees you, gaze unsure and lips pursed, that he knows what to do.

it’s not so bad, kei thinks. he wouldn’t have to save your number under a name that’s not exactly yours, and he wouldn’t have to always rush to leave because he has “something coming up”. he can walk you to class in the mornings when you arrive after his morning practices, and it’s like he can imagine the way he’ll hold your hand and make sure everyone knows you’re with him. his train of thought might have gone a bit too far, but he can’t deny the thought of wanting to show you off as his. hell, he’s had a crush on you since your second year (though he’ll never tell you or anyone), and now that he’s got the girl, he might as well be proud of it, too.

so he comes up and kisses you. chastely. “okay.”

you give him a flick to his shoulder, earning an ‘ow’ from him. “that’s it? okay?”

“you said i could leave marks as long as it’s gonna be covered by your blouse, right?”

another finger flick, to his forehead this time, “you asshole.” but you smile. you know him.

when you pull his lips to yours, this time, he makes sure to keep you busy with his hands around your body and your hands in his hair, shirts and hoodies being pulled up to eventually be taken off. suddenly, he stops, and it’s only then that you hear something that you’ve only barely heard once before, on a warm saturday morning when it was summer, months away from today’s october.

“i really, really like you, y/n. and i’m not afraid of that.”

as he cradles you in his touch, kisses trailing down your jaw and beginning at your collarbone, you make sure to ask if he’s okay with reusing the same uniform he wore today for tomorrow. his answer slips out easily; yes.

“is it always this cold in the mornings when you practice?” you tighten the scarf around your neck, shoving your hands into your coat. kei hums in response as you two near the gym.

“to be fair, you could’ve worn tights. doesn’t help when you’re basically half naked in the winter.”

“wearing a skirt does not mean i’m half-naked, kei.” you scoff, but you do take a mental note to start dressing warmer for the coming seasons. 

“i’m just saying, the wind can just go up your skirt-”

his sentence is cut short when a louder, higher-pitched voice runs through.

“woah! tsukishima’s with a girl?” you recognise it as one of the kids in class 3-2, hinata shoyo. his orange hair isn’t exactly easy to miss. behind him is the boy you recognise as kageyama tobio, remembering the way kei would sometimes slip in a snarky mention of his name on the nights he’d call you from his training camp in tokyo. you introduce yourself to the two boys.

“why is that such a surprise to you?” kei points out sharply. a number of second and first years pass by the three of you, and they exchange casual good mornings.

“i think i’ve seen you around. are you friends with kana-san?” hinata names one of the girls in your class, and you nod, telling him you’re pretty close to her. 

"are you going to be watching us practice?” hinata asks, and as you look frantically between kei and hinata, you tell him, “yeah, is that okay for you guys?” kageyama and hinata nod.

you don’t miss it when kei takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with his. it makes you feel a little warmer in chilly weather. it makes you smile.

“go ask team captain over there,” kei shrugs, cocking his head at yamaguchi, who currently has a content smile on his face.

“so this is your girlfriend!” 

you immediately snap your head at kei, as if silently telling him no fair, how come yamaguchi knew all along?! kei shrugs, “he saw me going to your locker one day.”

you roll your eyes before introducing yourself the same way you did to hinata and kageyama, and you hear kageyama huff out, “she looks too nice for you.”

kei scoffs, “well, that’s rich coming from you. maybe you’re forgetting how-”

“alright, tsukki, let’s just go up to the clubroom first.” yamaguchi thankfully cuts in, letting hinata and kageyama go to the gym first.

“oh, y/n-san, you can go to the gym first, too, since we’re going to be changing in the clubroom. we don’t want you to wait outside, after all.” yamaguchi adds, and as you let go of kei’s hand with a reassuring smile, hinata takes it upon himself to make even more conversation with you on the way to the gym. you find his and kageyama’s company entertaining.

“if he’s you’re boyfriend, does he, like, insult you all the time?” kageyama blurts out, his words making you break into smiles.

you giggle, swatting your hands, saying no, no. it makes you realise how different he really is when he isn’t with you.

your hand wanders to the uniform bow around your collar, and you play with the ends of it, the area of your body reminding you of the hickeys you saw littered around your chest and collarbone this morning. when you told kei about it, he only shrugged with the most smug face you’ve ever seen. thank god for collared uniforms.

“so, y/n-san, how’s tsukishima as a boyfriend?” hinata chimes in.

you catch your lip in between your teeth, sucking in a soft inhale. you wonder if you could tell them that he’s the guy that buys you your favourite snacks on the way back from volleyball practice, or that he puts all your favourite songs into his daily playlist so that he can sing along with you when he comes over. still, even after the news about your relationship, you think there’s no harm in keeping some things private. so you exhale.

“he’s an asshole,” you laugh, gleeful, “such an asshole.”

[noctumbra]

❝holy❞

summary ─ “intimate,” he decided to say, “touch me here.”

pairing ─ dark!priest!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ dark fic, smut, +18, corruption, handjob, innocence kink (?)

a/n ─ this is a dark fic. i don’t have much experience on writing dark fics, but better late than never, right? i hope i nailed writing this, and hope you guys like it! please leave a comment if you liked it! thank you <33 [ps: i somehow didn’t feel motivated writing this and i know this sucks, so i’m really sorry if you had high hopes :( i’ll try to make it up with the others!]

KINKTOBER DAY FIVE: dark!priest!bucky + church sex + corruption kink

The church was peaceful.

Father Barnes had always liked it when the church was left to him only: No visitors, no cleaners ─ no one. Only him. It was like he was alone with his existence and the weight of his past sins. It was a time where he could talk to God about what he had done before he found his way again, as if there was someone listening to him.

Friday nights were the quietest and emptiest night in a week. People were tired and excited about their upcoming weekend, so they avoided coming to the church unless it was Sunday and their last off-day before they jumped into another busy week. The heavy rain outside was also a prominent effect of why the church was empty. If Father Barnes had not lived in the church, he’d have gone home already, too.

Father Barnes sighed deeply, eyes closed; he walked in the quiet, large room. The smell of burning candles and fresh earth, the rhythmic sound of rain beating the church windows… It was peaceful. So much so that, Father Barnes felt like he finally found his footing, his safe space. He had been places where it was too loud to even hear himself think. He had smelt so many unpleasant scents; rotting flesh, dried blood and dead bodies.

He deserved this peaceful moment, this safe space.

Smiling to himself, Father Barnes turned to the French church doors. He always locked them after the last mass which was around 7PM, and since today was Friday and the church was empty, he figured he could close it a little earlier than usual.

As he reached for the doorknobs, he heard rushed footsteps. Father Barnes tensed, he couldn’t help but stay alert at the sound; it was an undying habit he picked it up while he was in Army. He turned the doorknobs slowly, sticking his head out to see who was rushing where.

It was when he saw you: Soaking wet from the rain, hair sticking to your face; your clothes were wet, thin and he saw you shudder violently. Your eyes were wild, scared, and Father Barnes frowned slightly. His frown got deeper when he saw the state you were in with its full power. He stood in front of the door, now, watching you intently because you looked like you could pass out any second. You stood on your place, frozen, when you saw him watching you.

“Please,” you whispered as you walked towards him with shaky steps. “I need some place to stay for the night, please. Father, please.” Father Barnes extended his hand out to you because he was still afraid you’d fall.

“Come in, little lady,” he murmured, “You look cold and sick,” he couldn’t help but add. You grabbed his large, warm hand and shivered. He was right, you were cold and sick. Murmuring a soft ‘thank you’, you stepped inside of the warm and dry church. The air was filled with a scent that reminded you your home a little, but you ignored the thought.

That place was no longer your home, you thought.

“Let’s get you to the warmth, shall we?” You heard the kind Father speaking to you softly as he walked towards you after locking the church doors. You nodded meekly. You’d do anything to get warm again, and it was showing up on your face. Father Barnes smiled at you. The hand you held moved from your hand to your arm, and he gently led you deep inside the church.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in front of the fireplace. Father Barnes had made you tea, with honey because you told him you liked it that way. He even gave you dry clothes, claiming that if you were to stay in your wet ones, you’d get sick very badly. You couldn’t argue, just nodded, and accepted the clothes he held out to you.

Now you were in soft, white and thick nightgown, with a warm cup held between your palms, sitting in front of a fireplace. You were grateful for what the Father had done for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the quiet felt too nice to be interrupted with loud talking voice. “You didn’t have to take me in, but you did it anyway. Thank you, Father.” You smiled at him shyly. Bucky smiled at you back, though his mind was wondering things that he shouldn’t have.

“It’s what anyone with a conscience would do, little lady,” he said. You felt your cheeks heat up with the pet name and buried your face into your tea cup. Bucky smirked darkly at the shy look on your face.

The white gown on you, your shy face and wide, innocent eyes were driving him mad ever since he took you in. Your hair had dried mostly, and Father Barnes wanted to bury his face in it. He wanted to inhale your scent, wanted to hold you close to his touch starved body. He knew that you came to him by thinking that he’d keep you safe somehow, but little did you know that you actually stepped into a wolf’s den…

“No, sometimes a conscience doesn’t make you do this,” you argued softly, eyes down. “Thank you, again. I don’t know how I can repay this.” You smiled at him one more time, and Father Barnes cursed himself when he felt his cock stirring in his uniform. He knew exactly how you could repay him, but he also knew he needed to lure you in for it.

“You could help me about something,” he started, voice still soft. You perked up immediately, eager to help. Placing your cup carefully onto small table next to where you were sitting, you turned to Father Barnes. He smiled at your enthusiasm. He stood up from where he was sitting in front of you, he found his next seat next to you. “I’m very bad at letting people touch me,” he murmured, “Can you teach me how it feels to be touched?” He asked. You bit your lip. You’ve never touched a man like this before, but you could do it for this good man.

“I can try,” you murmured. Father Barnes beamed at you. “How do you want me to touch you?” Father Barnes had to take a deep breath to constrict himself not to jump on you at that moment. You immediately shied away. “Have I said something wrong? I’m sorry,” you said, quickly. Father Barnes shook his head.

“No, little one, you haven’t,” he assured you, hands over yours. You exhaled, relieved, and held his hands back. “It had been a while,” he continued, “No women touched me that way. I forgot the feeling. I was hoping you could help me remember it?”

“What way, Father?” You sat up straight. “I can try like I said!” Father Barnes almost groaned at your eagerness.

“Intimate,” he decided to say, “Touch me here.” Father Barnes took your hand and placed over the bulge in his pants. You gasped. Your eyes wide, you looked at him. “It had been so long, little one. I just want to feel good, can you help me?” You swallowed and nodded. Father smiled at you encouragingly. “Undo them, little one. Don’t be shy.”

You reached out to pull his zipper down and stripped him off his briefs. You gasped again when you saw his cock; fully hard, angry red tip and tight balls. You’ve never been this close to a man’s intimate parts before. You somehow found this moment arousing, too, but you didn’t know what you were feeling exactly since you’ve never felt this way.

“Touch it, dove,” he murmured. “It needs you.” You stole a glance from him, your eyes came in contact with his burning blue eyes. You took a deep breath and brought your hand over the flesh. Making a fist around it, you squeezed lightly. Father Barnes sucked in a harsh breath. “Move it, up and down, dove. You’re doing very good so far.” You felt yourself preen under the compliment, you did as he said.

Moving your hand up and down, you continued to squeeze him lightly. Whenever your hand came in contact with his angry red tip, Father Barnes grunted like he had been punched. You licked your lips and moved your hand a little faster.

“Tighter,” he breathed, “Hold it tighter.” You squeezed your fist tighter around him, and Father Barnes groaned. “Yes, I’m loving it, pet, so good.” You smiled at him shyly and continued to move your hand.

It went on like that for good ten minutes; your hand started to move faster with each passing minute. You were jacking him quickly now, swirling your thumb over his tip like he instructed you to. He was groaning and moaning under your fingers. Your cheeks were burning like hell, and the fire next to you had nothing to with it. Father Barnes’ hips started to thrust up after a short while. His balls were hitting your hand with his each thrust.

“Tighter, baby,” he groaned. You squeezed him tightly, causing him to moan brokenly and loudly, head thrown back. You licked your lips. “Yes!” He cried out. “Yes, baby, keep going!” You didn’t falter your hand, kept it moving as he thrusted in it. “Fuck!” Father Barnes exclaimed. “Fuck─”

Suddenly, white spurts of come covered your hand. Some of it dirtying up the Father’s clothes, you continued to move your hand until he stopped you, breathless. He chuckled deeply.

“Damn, dove,” he chuckled again, “Thank you, that was exactly what I needed.” You smiled at him as you pulled your hand back. “Wanna taste it? C’mon, lick it and see if you like it.” You frowned slightly, but you did as he told you: Licking your hand clean, you found out that you liked the taste.

“I liked it,” you murmured. Father Barnes smiled widely at you.

“Well, you can have as much as you want as long as you stay here with me,” he said, and you nodded.

You weren’t welcomed at your own home, anyway. Father Barnes just offered you to stay in this beautiful church with him and asked for your touch in return.

There was no better deal than this.