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moonhoures · 1 year

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Insatiable

🕷️ kinktober — day 4: biting kink (& blood play)🕸️

pairing: sunghoon (enhypen) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, vampire!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, vampire bf!hoon, human!reader, tw! mention of blood, biting, blood drinking, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating, overstimulation (kind of, i guess?),

word count: ~2.1k

synopsis: your vampire bf suddenly becomes clingy which can only mean he’s hungry or horny . . . or both

a/n: where’s all my vampire!au lovers?!?!?!?!!?! 🧛🏻

posted: october 4, 2023

kinktober masterlist

You should’ve seen it coming when Sunghoon had stayed with you in the bed until you got up this morning. Usually, he would be up busying himself with something by the time you woke up. You should’ve seen it coming when he somehow found a reason to be in every room you were in at any given time. You were in the bedroom folding laundry? He was digging through his clothes to find ‘that one shirt he thought he lost’. You were in the living room watching TV? Suddenly he was interested in it too—though he had complained to you multiple times he didn’t like the shows you liked. You were in the bathroom? He was knocking on the door asking how long you would be because he needed to brush his teeth.

You should have confronted him during one of those instances, but you finally snapped in the kitchen. You were in the middle of making yourself a sandwich for lunch when you felt Sunghoon’s presence lingering behind you. He wasn’t touching you or hovering, but you could still feel him, mostly his gaze. It felt like he was your own shadow, following you around incessantly. The jelly-coated knife in your hand clattered onto the counter as you let out an annoyed groan.

“What’s your problem? You’ve been all over me all morning.”

“I can’t just be close to my girlfriend?” he asked, a dumb smile on his face. But you could tell there was something sinister about that smile; he had ulterior motives that he wasn’t going to give up so quickly.

“Suddenly, like this? No,” you leaned back against the counter, but there was still not even a foot of distance between you two, “So what do you want? Are you horny? Hungry? What is it?”

If he could blush, he would be doing so in that moment. His smile turned sheepish, embarrassed that you had caught on so fast. He didn’t mean to be so clingy, but he couldn’t help it. He woke up with his stomach feeling empty and his gums aching. His cock had also been basically rock hard when he woke up. His body was essentially begging him to eat and get laid, and soon. But he knew how tired you had been lately with work, so he let you sleep in. And you seemed grumpy after you woke, so he let you go about your day without bothering you too much. He suffered in silence for as long as he could until your outburst.

“Would you hate me if I said both?”

This time his smile revealed his pointed canines, longer than they usually were. You noticed the pale skin around his eyes had a dusting of rose-colored pigment, and small, faint, spindly veins branched around them. Those usually signified his hunger, and now that you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time he had fed.

Having a vampire as a boyfriend, while as outlandish as it sounded, was surprisingly low-maintenance. You weren’t sure if it was because of Sunghoon’s personality or if all vampires were like this—he was the only one you had ever met, to your knowledge—but he was really easy going. He held himself with great self control, only feasting when absolutely necessary.

When you had started dating him, he admitted his identity to you and assured you that he only fed on animals. For a while he had tried stealing blood from a local hospital, but he felt guilty, so he had quit. As nice as human blood was, he always felt it was morally wrong, so he stuck to an animal-exclusive diet. It wasn’t until you were almost a year into dating that you suggested he feed from you, and even then it took him a couple months to come around to the idea.

The first time he fed from you was overwhelming, to say the least, but he displayed way more self control than he thought he could. You had gone limp in his arms, which held you tight at the waist, crushing you against him while his teeth were sunk into the junction of your neck and shoulder. When you let out the smallest whisper of his name, he released you as fast as he possibly could, using his thumb to cover your puncture wounds. He had taken a bit more blood than he should’ve, but thankfully it wasn’t enough to cause you damage.

You healed up just fine after some food, water, and rest, and the next day you were good as new. But he still held off as long as possible between feedings, not wanting to take advantage of the food supply he could get from you. Though, secretly, you loved when he used you. The feedings almost felt like taking drugs. The rush you got from them was euphoric, even if it did take a large amount of energy out of you. And Sunghoon looked hot when he fed, you couldn’t deny that. The way his eyes turned that dark red (almost black) color. The way your blood stained his lips with a crimson hue. The way he became hungry for you in a way that surpassed normal lust. It was so primal. So carnal. So excruciatingly sexy. Every time you just wanted him to have his way with you, there and then.

“Okay,” you said, “but can we try something different this time?”

Sunghoon was shocked you were agreeing to a feeding right now, given your seemingly indifferent mood all morning. But he simply nodded, willing to do almost anything to get blood in his mouth soon, “Sure.”

“Do you, um, have to take blood from my neck every time?” you asked him, looking up at him with the art of seduction brewing in your eyes.

“No, I guess- I guess I could take it from your wrist or somewhere else on your arm. It’s just that the neck is the easiest access point,” he tried to explain, but admittedly he was pretty thrown off by the question. No one had ever asked him that before.

“So, you could really bite me anywhere then?”

“Y-yeah, I suppose I could. What did you have in mind?”

You simply smiled to yourself, having no doubt in your mind that you would get him to feed from you exactly how you wanted him to. Exactly like you had imagined a handful of times.

And, boy were you right. Not even five minutes later he had you thrown unceremoniously onto your bed, your shorts and underwear discarded and tossed across the room. His inhuman strength was used to grab your legs and place them over his shoulders as he wedged himself between your thighs. One tantalizing look from him and then he was committing the most sinful acts on you with his tongue. Licking and prodding and kissing and sucking your sensitive skin in all the right ways. In all the right places. He drew the most erotic, filthy noises from you, along with some moans of his name. He smirked wickedly into your pussy, his pride—and his cock—swelling.

Low growls rumbled from deep in his throat as he ate you out. His mouth moved with ardor, as if your cum was his life source instead of the red ichor that flowed in your veins. And he didn’t plan on stopping until he got both. So he hummed, holding your clit between his lips. He opened his eyes just in time to see you slipping, your eyes vaguely crossing and your lips agape, a gasp stuck in your throat.

“Hoon- Please- I need . . . Oh my God,” your words trailed off into a moan that was so pornographic you couldn’t believe it came from you. Your boyfriend was always great at eating you out, but this was on another level.

“Need what, _______? To cum? Then do it. Cum on my tongue, baby,” he pulled away to egg you on, then promptly returned to lapping at your slick lips. Your skin felt like velvet over his tongue, and your arousal tasted like juice from the sweetest fruit. But your blood would be the richest and smoothest of wines. And he wanted to get drunk off of you at any means necessary.

You wanted to answer, but you physically weren’t able to. Any words that you thought of formed in your throat and died before they could reach your lips, coming out in faint croaks or cut-off moans. His name was the only thing you could get out, and even that could only escape in choked gasps or panted breaths. It was the loudest when your orgasm finally snapped.

Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, and the area between your ribs and your thighs felt warm. Sunghoon’s grip on the outside of your thighs tightened as he tasted the first drips of your cum. His tongue collected as much of it as he could get. But he had to act quickly. While you were still in the throes of your orgasm, he pulled his lips away from your cunt, directing them to the plush of your inner thigh. He bared his fangs as much as he could before breaking your skin with them, sinking them as far as he could without seriously harming you.

A sharp gasp sounded from your mouth, and your hands fisted the sheets at your sides, tugging them into the tight grip of your knuckles. The pain was borderline insufferable, but you knew the taste of ecstasy that soon followed would make it all worth it.

In a matter of a minute, the pain was subduing and was being replaced by waves of pleasure. The warmth that was caused by your orgasm was ignited into a fiery heat, like the nozzle of a stove slowly being turned from low to high. Then, the tingling started. First in the thigh that he was feeding from, then the other one. It spread to your knees and hips. And soon after that, the numbness set in. That’s when you knew it was getting to be too much. Your body was going into a panic, but your mind was still dazed from the effects of his venom, which seeped in from the bite.

“S-“ you groaned, barely able to form a coherent thought, “Sung- . . . Sunghoo . . .”

Your boyfriend’s eyes shot open, and he immediately withdrew his mouth from your leg, “Fuck, I’m sorry, ________.”

You shook your head lazily, not entirely sure if the lack of energy was more from the orgasm or the feeding.

“You tasted so good, I couldn’t help myself,” he spoke quickly, his voice full of panic. He leaned down to lave his tongue over the puncture marks, using his saliva to heal them. It would seal them for now, keeping you from bleeding, but it would take a few hours for them to close, “Are you alright?”

In the blink of an eye, he was hovering above you, and anyone else would’ve been startled. But you were so used to his inhuman speed by now, you were unfazed. You were, however, dismayed still, and concernedly so. Sunghoon’s hand reached up to gently grab your chin, tilting your head from side to side, “________, baby, answer me. Are you okay?”

A drunken smile appeared on your lips, but your eyes remained closed, “‘m great.”

He sighed in relief, shaking his head, “Don’t do that. I was worried I drank too much.”

“A little,” you mumbled in a half-response, slurring your words, “but . . . felt s’ good.”

“Don’t black out on me,” he chuckled softly, a hint of worry still in his red-colored eyes as he peered down at you. His fingers gripped your chin a little tighter as he leaned forward and kissed the corner of your lips, “I mean it.”

“Or what?” you teased, eyes half-opening to see his handsome face inches from your own. If you weren’t so weak, you would have rolled you both over and taken the reigns then.

“Or I’ll eat you,” he mocked you, booping the tip of your nose with his before kissing you again, this time on the lips. His lips were tinged with blood still, the taste of iron present on them but not unbearable.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“You decide,” he patted your thigh affectionately, his thumb smoothing your skin and lingering near the marks he left on it. Then he got up off the bed, heading for the door, “Don’t move, I’m gonna get you a snack and some water.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen vampire au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon vampire au #[🕷️] kinktober 23

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year

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kinktober day three: mirror kink

>>> day three already woot woot! i hope you all are loving it so far, because i know i am! this is past me in the notes but it seems like these pieces are gonna get longer everyday at this rate lmfao. i picked keigs for the mirror because birb need luv

>>> starring: keigo takami (hawks) x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: brief daddy use, doggy, highly emotional tbh i'm actually sorry, teasing, praise, pet names. >>>wc: 3.5k >>> event masterlist

keigo loves planning nights like these. you’re his special person, and his favorite pastime is making sure you know it. every so often, sometime around payday, he’ll come home with bags on bags, a dopey grin covering his face as he sashays to the bedroom of your shared apartment. he just can’t wait to show you what he got you this time, exclusively keeping his high-paying pro-hero job because it allows him to spoil his girlfriend with lavish riches.

you weren’t high maintenance at all. at least, you didn’t start out that way. you were just you, a simple civilian that worked at the hospital he was brought into during the war with all for one. you were an adorable bedside nurse, sweet and careful in all the ways you tended to his wounds and listened to his nervous ramblings about his friends and students. you talked him through his anxieties, spending precious hours of your shift soothing him and keeping him company. he watched you get in trouble time and time again for messing the shift rotation up with your habit of staying by his side. it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, to genuinely listen and to touch him with care, a worry an affection in your eyes he wasn’t sure he had seen from anyone before.

it was no surprise that he kept in touch with you once he was discharged from the hospital. and luckily, to his relief, you offered to support him through rehabilitation, helping him with his fittings for his prosthetics and keeping his spirits high when his self-worth was at its very lowest. keigo never had someone to call his, and the first time he met you, that was the last thing on his mind. but you were still there, months later, giving him the idea to try swords and katanas as replacements for his sharp wings. it wasn’t long until he was back on the battlefield using all the support items and your suggestions to make him feel like hawks again. he was still covered with burn scars, but they seemed less mangling than before. it was probably all those salves you put on him, your healing hands doing more for his heart and mind than his body at times.

so when the war was won, and it was time to say thank you for all the things you had done for him, he found himself taking you on expensive dates and paying for your hair appointments when you casually mentioned a new look you wanted to try. he caught himself picking out nail colors and shoes–at one time they were nike’s but now they were prada or jimmy choo. not that he minded, in fact, it was his insistence that you started expanding your palette to the expensive side anyhow. you were more than content to hold his heart and let him pay for your facials, but your whiny boyfriend practically begs for you to take his card and spend every dollar.

you learned early on, if you didn’t spend it yourself, he would do this, take the day away from you, raiding the mall for anything new you didn’t already have hanging in your room-sized closet. you could hear the rustling of the paper and plastic bags rubbing against each other, a knowing smile spreading across your cheeks. and sure, maybe months ago you were just a humble nurse. but keigo’s constant babying may or may not have created a small spoiled brat. you sit up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to greet your loving partner, squealing when his excited eyes and crinkled up nose peek around the corner with a wide grin.

“guess what i got you.” he titters, revealing the evidence of his shopping. he holds his other arm out to accept your waiting hug, stepping close enough to the bed for you to throw your arms around him in greeting. you looked so cute in your silk pajamas, just waiting in your shared bed for him to return to you. you’ve been able to reduce the amounts of shifts you take at the hospital now that you barely have any of your own bills to pay, and that was being generous. he usually paid those too, but you refused to go jobless until you had a ring—and well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be much longer. you had a fresh maintenance day yesterday, the highlights of your hair freshly toned, your brows waxed and tinted, a new set of lashes and nails–you look too good to be true like always, like you deserve for being so good to him. you’re perfect, and he cannot wait to see how you look in the things he bought you, keigo’s special girl.

you hum playfully in thought, pressing your silken crop-top bound chest against his. he can tell you don’t have a bra on, and the thought delights him. you rarely wore anything but your slutty pajamas or the special selection of lingerie he had curated for you. one he was excited to add to tonight. you giggle and press a kiss to his stubble covered jaw, and throw out your best guess. “hmmm, shoes?”

he chuckles, tucking some loose strands of your hair back behind your ear so he could admire your saccharine smile. he hums, nodding. you were right after all, that was part of it. “mhm, good, my little dove. what else?”

you smile under the praises, trying to eye the bags as he snakes his arm around your waist, setting them on the bed for you. “jewelry?” you offer with an arched brow, watching his face for a hint. his amber eyes gleam with pride—and you knew you were right again. he nods, his calloused hand sneaks under your skimpy top and the warm touch makes you press yourself further into his leather and whiskey scented chest.

“the prettiest. i think you’ll like it, lovebird.” he grins, squeezing your hip. “do you know what else i got my pretty girl?” he coos, reaching for a big black dolce & gabbana bag, containing a pretty bowed box. he always paid them extra to wrap it like a christmas gift, watching your face light up as you pulled the ribbon free always melted his heart a little. he passes the box over to you for that exact reason, returning his arm around your back to watch you open it.

you squeal excitedly, giving his jaw another quick peck. you tug the pale bow off the box with great care, and his smile grows. inside lays a beautiful black bra and panty set, one he no doubt wants you to model for him. you gasp at the pieces, lacy and strappy, decorated with black dots against the sheer balconette style mesh. the thong was just a pathetic little triangle piece, mostly to say you had something on, if you had to guess. you beam up at him, giving him a proper kiss on the lips to signify your approval.

“thank you daddy, it’s so beautiful! you’re too good to me!” you sing, freeing the lingerie of their confines to splay it out on your bed. he chuckles and shakes his head.

“oh i could never even give you what you deserve, sweetness.” he hums, reaching for the tiffany & co bag. he holds it out for you next, letting you fish out the boxes inside. for this, he sits on the bed before you, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan coat, smirking up at his darling love. you peer at him over the pile of little teal boxes in your hand, arching your brow. he only chuckles, urging you to open it with his suggestive glare. he’s undressing you with his bedroom stare already, just waiting for you to put on all your pretty gifts so he could further appreciate you in them. you notice him shifting around, trying to hide the bulge he always gets from watching you jump around and celebrate how much he loves you. it was adorable, he couldn’t help but derive pleasure from it.

you quickly tear into these three boxes, finding a pure diamond choker, bracelet, and matching stud earrings waiting to be adorned by your perfect body. you gasp at him, shaking your head in shock. you know how expensive these had to be, and you refused to accept such a crazy gift—especially paired with other things! as spoiled as he’s made you, you still look at him in disbelief.

“what? i saw you looking at these last time. my name is hawks, after all, babygirl.” he winks, plucking the necklace from the box and turning his index in a circle to have you turn around for him in order to dangle the choker around your neck. he clasps the hook and then puts the bracelet on the wrist closest to him, leaving the earrings up to you. he turns you back to him by the shoulders, grinning valiantly–but you can see the borderline hunger lurking beneath. his siren gaze darts over to the dainty fabric still laying stiff and undisturbed on the bed. “open the last box, ‘nd then i wanna see everything altogether.”

he bites down on his bottom lip in anticipation as he passes you the final bag, a big paper bag from—you knew what these must be immediately, and it has you squealing with joy, as you knew exactly why he saved this gift for last. “keigo, you shouldn’t have, i really cannot believe you!” you shift your weight from foot to foot, pulling the slim black box out of the paper bag, pushing the lid off with haste.

he still sits next to you, his hands sprawled out behind him so he could lean back now, bionic wings still attached from the day. he would only remove them before sleeping, still incredibly insecure and lost without his real ones. he admired your giddiness, this emotion flowing from you was exactly the reason he would do whatever it takes to keep gifts like these flowing. you dangle the pricey so kate style red bottoms at him, jumping with glee. you nearly tackle him backward with the force of your arms around his neck, screaming your thanks in his ear. he only chuckles and wraps his arms around you in response, lightly slapping your ass to make you yelp.

“now go and put everything on—been waiting to see you in it all day.” he pouts, jutting his chin towards your walk in closet. in all fairness, it was a second bedroom keigo had converted to a walk in for you. it was decorated with several mirrors along one wall, allowing you to get all the best angles of your outfits and accessories that your boyfriend no doubt provided. you snatched the newest goodies up and scampered off to get changed, feeling the warmth building in your chest and stomach just from the way he looks at you. you knew he had struggled with his own appearance since you met him, and you hated that. sometimes you wish you could spoil him the same way he does you, but he always swears your affection makes him feel like he’s still soaring on top of the world.

you complete the jewelry trio by putting in the stunning studs he got, simple but huge cut diamonds perfectly accenting your features. then you tug on your new set and slip into your shoes, admiring your own reflection in the ballet studio-esque mirroring. maybe he admired you so much because he no longer could look at himself with the same fondness that you gaze at yourself—or him— with. you were stunning, that was indisputable, but it made you sad that your once notoriously cocky boyfriend now shrunk away from the sight of his own appearance. a physical lightbulb may as well have popped up over your head. “mm, daddy? wanna come help me with the buckle?”

he should have known it was a set up. you’ve put on much more involved outfits before without his assistance. when he strolls in, ready to lend a helping hand, you’re already on the floor on your hands and knees—and the lingerie he picked looks heavenly. he can see why the louboutins were so sought after, elongating your sexy legs and exposing the signature red bottoms to him from this angle. you wiggle your perky ass, and he salivates, the semi he’s been fighting turning into a full on boner. you’re looking back over your shoulder at him with that devilish smirk on your face, and it’s then he realizes you’ve tricked him into fucking you in front of your mirror wall. and to his surprise, his cock jumps in his pants as he meets your eyes through one of the panes. you’re unimaginably gorgeous, dripping in diamonds that sparkle in the soft lighting. he can see straight down that bra, and before he can doubt himself, he’s yanking his hard cock free from his sweats and tugging on it roughly. his breathing is heavy already, the worry starting to creep in. at times it was hard to be intimate with you, not because he didn’t absolutely crave you in almost a sinister sense, but because of his own insecurities. he knows you were familiar with him before, though you only met him after the damage was done. yet still, he can’t help but worry the scars covering his face and body will gross you out one day.

“c’mere daddy…wanna look at you like this, make you see how pretty you are.” you wiggle your ass for him again, the globes taunting him into compliance. when he lowers himself to his knees he can tell how needy you are. it must turn you on a bit to think about him taking you like this, though he can’t deny his own curiosity at the idea. his hands smooth down the curve of your back, all the way to the nape of your neck and back down to grasp your wide hips to steady himself. he licks his lips as you wiggle in his grip, making a mewl of anticipation. “please, look…i think you’re so pretty…i like the marks, makes you look all handsome and tough,” you whine so sweetly it makes his cock throb. “‘nd i need you so bad, the you i see in the mirror right now, is the sexiest man alive.”

he chortles and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of blush sting his cheeks. he peels his shirt off, discarding it somewhere in the vicinity. “yeah, yeah, hush.” he beckons, spreading your cheeks with the help of you scooting your knees further for him. it did boost his ego to hear you talk so fondly of him. you didn’t miss the old pro-hero you looked up to—you love him as is. he knows it, he’s sure of it, it’s why he spoils you relentlessly, but hearing you say it did things to him.

“nuh-uh, i wan’ you to see…breaks my heart to hear you complainin’ ‘bout how you look…’cause you’re perfect.” you pout, wiggling back on his shaft. he helps guide himself inside, sheathing to the hilt. you do spoil him, you just didn’t realize it. the way you love him was all he needed, with the sweet words spilling out of your mouth and the choking grip your cunt has around him—the view of your face melting in the mirror felt like special treat.

you moan out your delight, throwing your ass back against him to get him to start moving, the view of your pouty face while in doggy kept him paralyzed and utterly drunk, too busy admiring all of his gifts against your skin and the warmth of being inside you to remember to do anything about it. he chuckles breathily when he feels your recoil, giving you an affectionate slap to the bum. he starts to move in tandem to your little bounces, his eyes fluttering shut at the way you squeeze and release his curved cock. it feels so good, you can identify the veins and ridges as they drag through your walls. you don’t close your eyes though, no, your eyes are locked on his form in the mirror. he’s unreal, the slow pace at which he fucks you just driving you crazy. he’s a god, golden and chiseled, his smile enough to give you life on your darkest days. you wanted him to admit it.

you crawl forward a little, out of his reach, off his cock. he frowns at you in the mirror. “come back.” he pouts, making grabby hands for you.

you giggle, shaking your head. “not ‘til you smile at yourself and say ‘i’m the prettiest pro hero with the prettiest princess in the whole world.’” you say, sticking your tongue out at him in the mirror, admiring his naked form behind you. he huffs, letting his gaze drift between your face in the mirror and your ass in front of his face. he crosses his arms over his burned chest, arching a brow at you.

“you know, i could say you’re being ungrateful.” he whines, not able to fully challenge you. you wiggle your ass at him again and arch your challenging brow back at him. for the second time, he huffs. but he realizes that there’s no use fighting you. he learned that lesson when you were his nurse. he would give in, or else. he lets his gaze drift back to your round ass and dripping pussy just waiting for him to come back to you, and he sighs. he loves starting slow just to tease you, but it seems like you have your own master plan in mind. keigo’s eyes drift back to the mirror, where he sees your eagerly awaiting face. you look over his face and body with all the adoration and affection in the world, and he feels that with your confidence, he can believe in himself and give you some peace of mind. he meets his own eyes in the mirror and nods. he certainly has come a long way, and he may never return to his former glory, but if this is the man you love—that’s enough. more than enough. he can be happy to be that man, your man. he smiles at you, then at himself. “i’m the prettiest pro-hero.” he nods with a broad smile as his gaze falls back down to you. “and i have the prettiest princess in the whole world.” he concludes, to which you coo and applaud him. he walks forward on his knees, greedily tugging you back on him, plunging his length back deep with a relieved moan.

he doesn’t waste any time by teasing, either, holding the creases of your hips like they were his own personal handlebars, he slams into your heat, the grip of your cunt so choking he can’t control the loud groans he lets loose. you have to actively focus on holding yourself up, entranced with the sight of his pussy-drunk face, high on pleasure. his cock angles so perfectly in this position, abusing your cervix just the way he likes. it has your limbs shaking as you struggle to keep absorbing the force of his hip and your moans bordering on screams. he just loves you so much, he has to spoil the woman who’s given him everything. he knows you love him like this, that’s why you crawled into that position in the first place.

“that’s my girl, taking it so good for me.” he nods his approval, his arm dipping to support your hips. thanks to the mirror, he can see the tears drop from the corner of your eyes, the wavering of your arms as you struggle to hold yourself up. you nod to his praise, squealing extra loud, you love being his girl. his hand dips to rub a messy pace against your clit, groaning at how you jerk and arch in response. “fuck, i can see everything like this, little dove. you look so pretty…all the diamonds suit my jewel just right.” he pants between punishing strokes, even though he’s giving you the reward of a lifetime.

you nod, forcing your eyes open to watch him rut into you, mouth open in a silent scream while his jaw drops in awe. you’re absolutely perfect. you fold over, falling completely against his arm, clenching down on him so hard it nearly hurt him. you whimper, “gon’ cum daddy, you’re s’good…”

he nods egging you on as he presses into your nerves harder, giggling as your legs shake and give out completely. it sends him over the edge, his eyes glued to your face in the mirror as he shoves his seed deep, continuously fucking it deeper with his hard strokes, only letting up when he was sure you couldn’t take another pump. he smiles at your fucked out appearance, hair knotted and sprawled out, the lingerie shifted just enough to let him enjoy all of you, your tearstained cheeks—and thighs. he leans over to kiss your shoulderblade, staying there to catch your breath. for a minute, all there is to be heard is panting, but soon keigo chuckles again, and scoops you out of the floor.

“now it’s time for the real princess treatment, lovebird.” he hums, taking you towards the bathroom for a fresh bubble bath of your choosing.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesmha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #hawks x reader #mha hawks #hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #takami keigo x reader #mirror x hawks #day three

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should.

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone.

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #maid au #au #series #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog · 1 year

Photo

You may wonder what this whole Awesome Coffee Club thing is all about. Today I was reminded what it’s all about:

In 2019, the unpaid intern who runs this tumblr account visited Sierra Leone’s Kono District. Kono is the among the most impoverished communities in the world due to a long history of enslavement, colonialism, and civil war. A decade ago, Kono’s healthcare system was in a state of collapse--clinics had no running water or electricity or paid staff, and inconsistent supplies of medications and other necessities.

As a result, Kono was the epicenter of the global maternal mortality crisis: One out of every seventeen women could expect to die in childbirth. Over 10% of children died before the age of five.

Beginning in 2014, Partners in Health began working with Sierra Leone’s Ministry of Health to bring change. This started with the basics at the region’s hospital, Koidu Government Hospital: running water, 24-hour electricity, and hiring nurses, community healthworkers, cooks, facilities management staff, and so much more.

At the time, KGH’s maternity ward had a dirt floor. Many people were dying for want of an emergency C-section or a blood transfusion. By 2019, this was getting better--two functioning operating rooms were able to perform C-sections, and a blood bank could address postpartum hemorrhaging. But it was still inadequate, and maternal and child mortality were horrifyingly routine.

To address the crisis, PIH Sierra Leone directors Jon Lascher and Dr. Baillor Barrie wanted to build a world-class maternal and child health center that could save thousands of lives yearly while also serving as a teaching hospital to train the next generation of Sierra Leonean healthcare workers. They told us they needed $25,000,000 to break ground, and would probably eventually need another $25,000,000 to support the hospital’s operation over its first few years.

I am, as unpaid interns go, doing quite well, but not THAT well. So our family committed what we could and asked others to join us, and within two years, we passed that $25,000,000 goal. Together, we’ve now raised close to $40,000,000.

Today, I visited the site of the Maternal Center of Excellence, the first wards of which will hopefully open next year. Nearly all of the construction team are from Kono, and 65% of them are women--they work as welders, engineers, planners, laborers, and so much more. You see three of them above. I had the privilege of talking with them about this project. The young woman to the right, Success, told me that her dream is to work for the hospital her whole life, helping to maintain and support it. One of the other women told me, “We are passionate about this work because it is the future of our country. And we know that we and our friends will someday give birth here.” I am so proud that our projects support their training and livelihood, and so grateful to have them as colleagues in this work.

The hospital--which will include over 100 maternal beds, a NICU, and enough operating suites to perform over 10 emergency C-sections per day, will also require ongoing funding for staff, stuff, systems, maintenance, and more. Our hope is that open-ended projects like the Awesome Coffee Club and Awesome Socks Club can help provide that funding, although the most efficient way to support this project is to donate directly!

So that’s why this tumblr, and the awesome coffee club, exists. World-class maternal and infant healthcare is coming to Kono, a wonderful and too long impoverished by colonialism and extractive capitalism. It is only a first step. There is so long to go. But what a first step.

#also i guess for memes #awesome coffee club #partners in health #sierra leone #drink good coffee #coffee #pih

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the-offside-rule · 2 years

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Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Baby Duties

Requested: on wattpad

Warnings: nons

"What are you going to call her?"

"Coralie, Coralie Leclerc."

That day was something else. The day your baby girl, Coralie arrived to the world. It all seemed so much better than everyone told you it would be. She wasn't crying at night, she wasn't being terrible at all but then then the problems started when you got home. Charles opened up the front door with your hospital bag and let you in holding the baby. You looked around at the homer you missed oh so much and continued on to the nursery to put your little girl to sleep. It was awfully late at night so she would probably be sleepy and to be completely honest, you were pretty tired too. You placed the little creature into her crib and tucked her in. Charles looked on lovingly at his little family. Everything was finally coming together in his life.

You tiredly made your way out of the room and closed the door gently. You heard a light chuckle and reopened your eyes to see Charles staring at you. "What?" you yawned. "Nothing, you just look beautiful as always." He remarked. Even though you felt like complete and utter shit, he made you feel like a princess. "but you look tired so maybe you should go to sleep." You nodded and yawned. "Yeah. Let's go- what are you doing?" you asked as Charles picked you up bridal style and began walking in the direction of your bedroom. "We're going to bed." He replied simply. "I might put on a movie too but it's up to you." Your heart fluttered at his words. "Do you know how much I love you?" you asked him, nuzzled into his chest. "You've said it a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

---------------------------------------------------------

You had managed to fall asleep but the distant cries of little Coralie Leclerc put an end to that. You moved to get up but Charles lay you back down making you a little bit confused. "Charles, I need to go get her." you groaned. "No princesse, you go back to sleep. I'll go get her." You agreed reluctantly and turned back around to go to sleep but in the nursery, they were probably not going to sleep.

"Salut ma fille, Pourquoi pleures tu?" (hello my daughter, why are you crying?) he babbled. Carolie seemed to quiet down a little bit but not much. "Veux tu quelque chose a manger? Ah no. You can't eat anything yet erm..." Charles thought about an alternative and thankfully came up with one quickly before she woke up the entire of Monaco. "Et le lait? Oui? Tres bien." (How about milk? Yes? Great) he said to himself. "Allons y alors, mais nous devons nouse taire."(Let's go then but we need to be quiet.) he said wrapping Carolie in a blanket to keep her warm while they went out to the kitchen to get some milk. " Nous ne voulons pas reveiller votre maman." (We don't want to wake up your mom.) Charles had a peak into the room to see if you were still asleep and smiled to himself when he saw that you were.

"Vous savez, vous et votre maman êtes similaires. Vous êtes tous les deux très exigeants." (You know, you and your mom are very similar. You're both very high maintenance.) Charles chuckled as he began to feed his hungry baby. "Je blague. Je vous aime beaucoup tous les deux." (I'm joking. I love you both very much.) he continued on. "Et croyez moi, à la seconde où je peux vous amener à une course, vous allez à une course." (And trust me, the second I can get you to a race, you are going to a race.)

"Bien, allons au lit." (Right, let's go to bed.) he said once she finished her bottle. Charles walked back quietly to the nursery and placed her back into her crib but then as he began to walk away, she started cying again. "Quel est le problème avec ma princesse maintenant? (What is wrong with my princess now?) he asked softly. "Vous voulez une soirée pyjama? Une chanson peut-être? Tous les deux? Bien." (Do you want a sleepover? A song? Both? Okay.) He gave up and climbed into the crib, hoping and praying he didn't break it or he would get a hounding from you. " Frere jaques, frere jacques, dormez vous, dormez vous? Sonnez les matines, sonnes les matines. Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don." He hummed. Charles looked down and saw Carolie asleep on his chest. He was now trapped in a crib with his baby. How was he going to get out now? He wasn't so he gave in and just decided to fall asleep. Night one of having a baby in the house would be pretty successful if you ask me.

#charles leclerc imagime #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

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remedyturtles · 4 months

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out of curiosity, are you an only child? I'm one of four brothers (aged 2-26) and have multiple estranged half siblings, and I've always found the way you write familial interactions between the brothers to be just. incredibly realistic and raw

Especially between Leo and Donnie - their interactions in your writing will occasionally (bar the codependency...) parallel interactions between my older brother and I to a T and it's. so touching

If you are an only child, what goes into writing familial interactions for you?

If not, do you have any specific memories or experiences of your own that you melt into interactions between the brothers?

Your writing brings me so much comfort and makes me love my brothers just a little harder

LMAO definitely NOT an only child hahahaha. i have an older sister and an older brother, then two bonus brothers

hmm! experiences... let's see. under a cut bc you got me rambling abt my family LMAO

our family groupchat is titled 'live and don't learn that's us'

once my brother drove over 12 hours all night to come rescue my sister and i after our car broke down during a road trip and the only payment he took was pizza

i still have an envelope that my brother slid under my door after a fight with other family that says on the top 'I HEARD YOU WERE UPSET BUT BIG BROTHER STILL LOVES YOU'

at my high school graduation, my brother took a very expensive trip home for two days just to walk me down the aisle. i did a speech and wasn't nervous at all bc every SINGLE time i looked out at the crowd he was looking at me with the fucking BIGGEST smile on his face

after my sister moved out and went to university she called me every single day

there was a girl that was going after my brother against his wishes and my sister picked up the phone when she called and threatened her so hard that she never talked to my brother again and like ten years later he was like 'yeah she just gave up one day idk what happened' and we were like 'um sister happened' and he was like 'WAIT WHAT' LMAO

for years me and bonus brother #1 would steal sister's phone and make her background a selfie of us and she never changed it and even one year was like 'hey the selfie is super old can you guys take a new one'

i also have a photo saved on my phone after bonus brother #1 got out of a surgery legit in his hospital bed with the caption 'i lived bitch'

i have been wearing a jean jacket i stole from bonus brother #2 for years and last time he saw me i was wearing it and he did not even remember it was his anymore

every snapchat i've taken of bonus brother #2 is captioned with 'bitch'

last christmas we did powerpoint presentations over discord. sister assigned everyone roles in star wars. brother provided a satirical how-to on home maintenance. bonus brother #1 talked about magic the gathering.

i didn't take many pictures but i do have this moment from sister's that made me laugh out loud:

then another badly taken picture from brother's:

i know what you're wondering now. rem, what did you do your presentation on?

cue groans from my entire family. except, wait....

the only use i've gotten out of my bachelor's degree LMAO

anyway if you got this far, the point is that i am definitely NOT an only child lol. we have issues too of course but they're pretty cool

#rem askbox

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mx-jinxous · 6 months

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For @lexirosewrites for this little corroded king universe. Whenever I get around to posting new pieces to this it won’t be in order.

Not betad and also I don’t really write smut so this is the closest I’ll probably get so if it sucks, it’s not my forte.

Gareth shuttered as he splashed through the rain, arms wrapped around himself as he let his feet guide him. He planned on nothing but getting out of that house when his parents found out about Steve and the baby. His dad seemed indifferent, but his mom went on a rampage. She called Steve a whore, demanded that if he wanted to keep his 20-year-old ass in her house then he was to step away from the omega and other alphas. It didn’t take Gareth a second to march out of that house.

So here he was, marching up to an apartment complex, nearly sprinting up the stairs as the maintenance man yelled at him about the water. He should have gone to Eddie’s trailer, or any of the other boys' places, to homes that were excited for their sons, yet his feet led him to the familiar red door that held the only comfort he had. His knock was weak as he shivered, the door opening within seconds, a bright smile on Robin’s face that immediately fell.

“Hey Steve!” She called, the omega joining her to stare at the young alpha dripping and shivering. Before he knew it, Gareth was wrapped in a blanket in Steve’s nest, the omega snuggling him, pressing the alpha into his scent glands. He was hushing him as he ran a hand down the younger's back.

“Hey baby, back with me?” He nodded, words lost as he tucked in close to his omega. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up. Why were you out in the rain if you’re sick.”

“N-t si-k.” He mumbled into Steve’s shoulder.

“I beg to differ. You’re shivering, whimpering, and you have a fever. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No. Just want to stay with you.” He mumbled, words starting to be more coherent. “You and the baby.”

“Okay, but let me get you something to drink. Then we can cuddle up, maybe talk about what happened.” Another whimper left Gareth, but he didn’t argue as Steve pulled away with a kiss to the younger’s head. It felt like hours before Steve returned with a water glass in one hand, a kiss to Gareth’s cheek once he got settled.

“Take a sip for me and then we can go back to cuddling.” With what little strength he had, the younger sat up and drank from it before falling back in bed. Once it was put up they went back to cuddling, Gareth returning to his scent glands to find comfort where his mind traveled for pain. They laid like that for what felt like hours, the young alpha starting to drift when the sound of the bedroom door opened. He shot up, covering Steve, his body on autopilot to protect his mate. He growled at the intruder that dared to breach their nest, stopping when the scents of the other alpha’s hit his nose.

It was then he saw clearly it was his other mates and returned to Steve’s scent glands without another thought until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, pulling a whimper from him. “It’s okay Gare-Bear. You want to cuddle?” It was Eddie, his tone coated with worry as he checked the younger's forehead. “You’re burning up. You shouldn’t be playing in the rain when you're sick, silly.” He said, the three climbing into bed the best they could, snuggling the two in the middle.

Gareth didn’t say anything, just tangled his fingers with whoever’s had landed on his hip. The five of them stayed quiet, Eddie’s lips grazing over his neck and shoulders. They were pampering him, like they did for one another on their bad days. Being the youngest and last to present, Gareth is naturally a softer alpha… yet another thing to disgust his parents. Typically an alpha wouldn’t surrender to another or seek comfort from one or their omega, yet the young man couldn’t help but turn into Eddie. He scented him too, hiding from the older man, from the reality that his pack wouldn’t accept them, accept him. An ugly sob fell from his lips, the other men wrapping around him the best they could.

“It’s okay Gare. Let it out.” Steve whispered into his ear, making him cry even harder. He should be comforting his pregnant omega, but instead he's emotional. He wasn’t fit to have a pack, nor his mates.

“They kicked me out.” He cried into Eddie’s ear, tight hands tangled in his crop top. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell them before my mom knew. She ripped into me, insulted you guys, called Steve names. Said if I wanted to stay with you then I’m not welcome in her home. I just walked out without anything.” His voice broke, the arms tightening around him.

“Oh baby, you’re going through rejection sickness. No wonder you’re burning up.” Eddie mumbled, nudging his nose into the fluffy curls.

“Well fuck them! If they want to kick you out of their pack then it’s their loss. You have this pack.” Jeff spoke up, climbing over Eddie and dragging the younger's eyes to face him. “You got us, the baby, Wayne, hell all of our parents. You have a pack still and if they want to kick you out, you’ve got a bigger pack.” Gareth just stared at the other alpha, taken back by the long stream of words that came from the usually silent man. He was what he pictured the perfect alpha to be like, one he wished he could be.

“B-but I’m a shitty alpha. Too moody.” He whimpered, being pulled back into Steve, the omega resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Unless you’re like my dad, you aren’t a shitty alpha. You all are different and perfect alphas, I don’t care what others think. I like the softer side of you, the caring one that’s like a puppy. Fuck your parents if they don’t want to part of your pack, you don’t need them. Their opinion doesn’t matter, just yours.” Steve huffed, cuddling the younger.

A quiet fell over the mates, Steve nipping at Gareth’s bonding gland to comfort them both. The only noise was from Robin letting them know she was going to her girlfriends before leaving them to their pile. It was inevitably broken by the youngest alpha pulling back from Eddie. “My drums and other shit is still at my parents.”

“It’s okay, we’ll get them back.”

“Just sucks.” He whimpered.

“Do you want me to slash their tires?” Freak said abruptly, getting a snort from Gareth.

“We don’t need to bail you out of jail, but thank you Dougie for trying to cheer me up.”

“Then how about I sit on your face and you can go nuts?” Steve’s offer was met with several heavy pheromones filtering through the room.

That’s how Gareth found himself between Jeff and Eddie, the two taking turns cleaning the mess of slick that painted his face with their tongues. Eddie was currently devouring the younger’s mouth, rutting against his front, Jeff mirroring his movements against Gareth’s ass. He could feel both of them were hard and worked up from the whimpers and cries from Steve beside them, his hands buried in Freak’s hair as he led him into his fifth orgasm. The first four had been from Gareth until he had his fill and swapped out with the older man.

Eddie pulled away from Gareth’s mouth to address the two, Jeff taking the moment to crane the younger’s neck and take his turn devouring his mouth. “Still doing okay sweetheart? Need a break?”

“No…maybe.” He huffed, throwing his head back into the pillow. “How are you feeling, puppy?” Steve turned to face the other boys, Freak wrapping around him.

“I’d say horny if this is anything to go by.” Jeff snickered as he broke the kiss, gripping the bulge in Gareth’s pants, causing a moan to escape from him.

“Don’t tease him.” Eddie smirked, pulling the younger boy's head back by his hair, exposing his neck. “Do you want to give me your knot like a good alpha? Make me beg for it until I can’t take it.” This wasn’t a conventional expectation of an alpha, asking another to knot him, but they weren’t conventional in many ways. Gareth did his best to nod, humping into Jeff’s hand. “Let’s get your pants off th-.” They were interrupted by a continuous knock echoing from the front door, a groan leaving Steve.

“God damnit.” He huffed, trying to stand, but Eddie stuck his hand up.

“I’ll go get it, send them away before we get to the main event.” He stole a kiss from Steve before peeling away from the men. He hollered as he marched out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked enough to give the barest glance at the front door. As soon as it was thrown open, Jeff was up as well followed by Freak, leaving Steve and Gareth alone to question. Glancing out the door at what had caught the others attention, however, they couldn’t see past the three crowding the door.

Gareth wanted to get up and see who drew his lovers away, yet he didn’t want to leave Steve alone in bed. Turning to look at the older man he was met with Steve already wrapping himself in his favorite robe. He was out the door before Gareth could even sit up, the younger boy falling out of the bed when the sheets wrapped around his feet.

By the time he was up, he could hear Steve yelling at whoever was at the door. It wasn’t until he got out of the bedroom did he glance of their visitor and he froze when he locked eyes with his father. The older alphas stopped arguing, noting his attention no longer in them, eyes dragging to Gareth. “Gareth.” He took a step forward into the home, only to be shoved back out by Steve.

“Stay out of my house!” He growled, Eddie stepping between them.

“You heard him.”

“Please, I just want to speak to my son.” His father begged, this time a growl escaped the alphas.

“You’ve said enough! You kicked him out so leave him alone!”

“How’d you even find us?!” Jeff gripped his fist, ready to lash out.

“I talked with Wayne to see where you boys were. Took a hell of a long time to get him to trust me. Look, can I just talk to my son for five minutes and that’s it. If he doesn’t want to talk to me after that then I’ll leave.”

“No, you’ll leave now or I’ll have the chief here to arrest your ass!” Steve yelled from behind Eddie, trying to get past the oldest man, only to be restrained by Freak.

“Five minutes, that’s it. Then you get out.” Gareth said, arms crossed as he stepped forward. That seemed to disarm Steve’s temper, worry painting his face as he stepped into the younger's space.

“Gare, you don’t owe him anything. You can just tell him to fuck off and stay here.”

“Five minutes Stevie…just to get some peace. If I’m not back in by then, then you can come out and defend my honor.” That didn’t quell the pout, but it seemed to be heard as Steve allowed himself to be pulled back towards the bedroom by Jeff and Freak. Eddie stayed behind, glaring at the man, hand on Gareth’s shoulder.

“Five minutes and if he’s crying or hurt when I come out I will rip your throat out with my teeth.” He growled before turning and joining the others. They waited till the door shut before either spoke, the younger alpha keeping a glare on his father.

“That’s your omega? Got a bite to him.”

“Just say what you came to say. This is Steve’s home and he obviously feels uncomfortable with you here. If you come to talk me into coming home with you then just leave. I have a pack that does care, I don't need you or mom to have a family.”

His father sighs, smiling at his son as he sits in a chair. “That’s not what I’m here for, nor am I here to try and make you choose like your mother. She is a traditionalist, not an excuse, but our opinions don’t really align.”

“Then why are you here?” Gareth asked, standing over his father. He seemed tired, more than usual, probably from his mother.

“Did I ever tell you of how your mother and I came to be, how… cold of a couple we are?”

“You’ve never been the typical type of alpha and omega, just figured she had you by the balls or something.” His father snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Or something. Your old man was anything but typical. I swung all ways, betas, omegas, and alphas. The thing your mother doesn’t understand is that the younger generations constantly adapt, expanding. Traditional is just old fashion and restricting, and much like you, I wasn’t traditional. I was in love with another alpha, we were a secret with how people were. He was scared, but I wanted to be out and proud, even if it meant being disowned. We would argue about it constantly, our last one being so bad we broke up for a week.”

Gareth had slunk down to sit on the couch, staring at his dad displaying the most emotions he’d ever seen.

“In that week, I went on a binge, slept with your mom, and by the time me and him reconciled… she found out she was pregnant. She went to my parents first, so that was the start of our life and the end of mine and his. He left town and I haven’t heard from him since. When I held you for the first time, all your moms conniving with my parents was mostly worth it… but I’m not telling you this to win you over. I don’t want you to come home, back to her. You’ve escaped what I can’t, but I did have some stuff I wanted to tell you about.”

“Dad.” He said, tears coming to his eyes. “She baby trapped you. That’s so not right and grandma and grandpa endorsed it?”

“It’s the past and I’m not letting you face what I’ve faced. That being said, your mother will be out of the house for a few hours tomorrow on a spa trip I bought her to help her “relax.” He scoffed, looking his son in his eyes. “I’ll pack what I can in secret for you tonight, but come over tomorrow afternoon and I’ll help you load your stuff. We can put what doesn’t fit in your new place.”

“Wait- wait. So you’re fine with everything? Me and the guys, with Steve and the baby?” Reaching over, his father wrapped his hands in his own.

“I want you happy and if that’s with them, then I don’t give a shit. Your mother believes she talks for both of us, but I speak for my own beliefs. You know my side of the family is wealthy, that’s never been a secret. When you were born I had an account made to put money in for you, an inheritance that your mother doesn’t know about. You turn 21 soon so that money will be yours. If you want we can go finance it, help you boys get a home or start a fund for the baby.”

“I-I don’t know… I can’t even process this.”

“Nothing has to be done now. Don’t worry about anything, just talk to your mates and tomorrow I’ll call you once I take your mom to the spa.” Gareth opened his mouth to respond when the bedroom door creaked open, Steve walking out with arms crossed and a pout.

“It’s been five minutes.” He huffed, the younger smiling as he waved him over. He let him cuddle up against him on the couch, Steve scenting him for any distress.

“Perhaps I should go before I outstay my welcome. You seem to have some people that want to comfort you. I shall see you tomorrow.” His father stood, roughing up Gareth’s hair. The young man snorted, shoving the hand away with a wide smile.

“Yeah. Maybe you could get dinner with us tomorrow and we could talk over everything… get to know each other.”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow Gar.” He said, giving his son a squeeze of the shoulder before letting himself out of the home. It was then that the other alphas joined their mates, huddling together on the couch. It was quiet, the scent in the room unreadable. After what felt like hours, Gareth cleared his throat, looking up at the others.

“So, we have a lot to talk about… but can we wait until we finish what was interrupted.” He smirked, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. The older man nipped at his neck before pulling the smaller alpha over the couch and on his shoulder. A shriek of laughter left Gareth as he was carried back to the bedroom, the others following behind, Jeff slamming the door behind him.

Tag list: @marklee-blackmore

I will take prompts for this au, just note I may not be fast on them.

#stranger things #omegaverse #corroded coffin #steve harrington #corrordedking

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emerituscs · 23 days

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Enhancing Hospital Efficiency with Specialized Bed Maintenance Services

In the high-stakes environment of healthcare, where patient care and safety are paramount, the maintenance of hospital beds may not always be prioritized. Yet, ensuring that these essential pieces of medical equipment are in optimal working condition is crucial for both patient comfort and operational efficiency. This blog delves into the advantages of entrusting hospital bed maintenance to a specialized Independent Service Organization (ISO) like Emeritus, focusing on their dedicated expertise and the alleviation of burdens on biomedical teams.

Specialized Expertise Leads to Superior Service

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Conclusion

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#hospital bed repair near me #hospital bed repair companies #hospital bed repair #hospital bed maintenance #medical equipment repair service

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wellhealthhub · 1 year

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Facts About Durable Medical Equipment Jobs Near Me: A Comprehensive Guide

Looking for durable medical equipment jobs near you? This comprehensive guide covers everything you need to know, including common job search scams, core competencies for healthcare professionals, and the importance of healthcare access in rural communities. Introduction Welcome to the ultimate guide for those interested in pursuing a career in durable medical equipment jobs, particularly with…

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readyforthegarden · 6 months

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kait my beloved! i saw your prompts earlier and then forgot to send one, but allie's just reminded me, so i came here to request "peppering small kisses all over their face to wake them" with jakey pleaseeeee 🥰

we know he's a giggler as much as he tries to be serious all the time, and the thought of quiet little morning voice giggles almost just sent me to the hospital

okay i'm back with these prompts!!!! thank you for your patience pj my love!! i hope you enjoy!!

It had been a long week, and you were so ready to be home. Your mother had decided to put your childhood home up for sale, citing the lawn care and general maintenance was becoming to much for her to do alone as she got older. Instead, she had found a nice condo, where everything would be taken care of for her. You'd flown back to your home state to help her pack and clean out the house.

Your boyfriend, Jake, had wanted to go with you, however his own schedule had been full of studio time and rehearsals before he and his brothers went back on the road in a few weeks. You made do with facetiming almost every night, or talking on the phone. You were usually fine being without him for stretches of time. You had to be, knowing your work would keep you from joining him on tour a lot, and during album cycles he'd be busy. But there was something about the emotional time you were having, packing up memories from your childhood, or setting them out for a garage sale or into a donation box. It made you crave the comfort of your partner, the reassurance that even through the changes that were happening, he was going to be steadfast.

You hadn't told him you changed your flight to an earlier one. Jake was supposed to pick you up from the airport at one-thirty in the afternoon, but your mom had been settled into her condo for a few days, and there wasn't anymore reason for you to stay. You'd opted for an uber back to your home, the sun just starting to rise as you arrived. You were thankful the uber driver got out to help you get your bag out of the trunk, it being heavier with a few extras from your home.

Rolling it up to your front door, you fished your keys out of your bag and quietly unlocked it. There was a fifty/fifty chance that either Jake was still awake putzing around the house, or he was in bed, dead to the world. You had fallen asleep on the phone with him last night, listening to him talk about at restaurant Sam had taken him to, that he was exited to take you to try. But that didn't mean Jake had fallen asleep.

The house was quiet, still dim with just the early morning sun starting to creep in. You could hear the faint hum of your fan on upstairs, meaning Jake was indeed in bed. You left your suitcase and bags at the door after locking it again and kicking off your shoes, nearly tip-toeing across the foyer and making your way upstairs. Pushing open the door to your bedroom, you were hit with the cool air in there, the fan blowing on you as it swiveled. Jake was tangled up in the bedding, his dark hair splayed across the pillow. As you stepped closer, you saw his phone clutched in his hand, a sign he also fell asleep while on the phone with you, no doubt listening to your breathing on the other end of the line to fall asleep himself.

Softly, you climbed into the bed, smiling at your love and how serene he seemed while sleeping, his mouth parted slightly. Jake's round face was always something you found so sweet, so handsome. His cheeks were the perfect place to leave kisses, other than his lips. You couldn't help yourself, you'd missed him too much. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his cheek.

One turned into to two, and then suddenly you were raining soft kisses all over Jake's face, feeling him start to wake underneath you. As his body stretched, his chest rumbled with deep giggles, turning his face so you could get the side that had been resting on the pillow.

"Well good morning honey," he chuckled as his arms encircled you, rolling over so you were on top of him. You mumbled out a good morning reply between smooches, making sure to get every square millimeter of his face. Jake continued his laughter as you kept going. "I missed you too,"

"I'm sorry," you sat up, brushing the hair out of your face as you gazed down at him and caught your breath. "I just needed to kiss you, I missed you so bad." Jake raised a hand, sliding it under your hair and around the back of your neck, gently guiding you down for a sweet, slow kiss on the lips.

"You booked an earlier flight just to come home and shower me with affection?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips. You shrugged with a small nod.

"And what if I did?"

"I'd say that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." Jake smiled sleepily. "Now, why don't you change into your pajamas, crawl back into this bed, and cuddle with me until it's a decent hour to be awake?"

"That sounds perfect." you climbed off him, and moved to your dresser, taking off your plane clothes and changing into one of Jake's old t-shirts and a pair of your sleep shorts before crawling back into bed, snuggling up into Jake's side, catching up on some much needed sleep.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #writing prompt blurb #jake gvf #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake gvf fluff

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hanaaishi · 2 months

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PAIRING: Matt Rempe x AFAB! Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.7K

SUMMARY: A surprise bar fight in Gramercy lands Matt Rempe in Bellevue with a head laceration. But a missing bangle allows you to share an experience of a lifetime with him.

WARNINGS: Bigotry, Harassment, Hospitals, Medical Treatment, Swearing, and Violence

I dedicate this story to @2manytabsopen as part of the 2K24 Summer Fic Exchange.

This is my first time writing for a non-binary, asexual person of color. I tried my best to incorporate that into the story while following the instructions you provided in the initial ask. As a result, if I messed up on anything, I am deeply sorry.

That being said, it was lovely to write for you. I had a lot of fun researching Desi culture for the story.

@wyattjohnston @kurlyteuvo @callsign-denmark @avengedearth

The fluorescent lights of the Bellevue emergency room burned overhead as you knelt between endless rows of medical supplies in the storeroom with an open package of disposable syringes at your feet. You scooped a handful and placed them into their labeled plastic container alongside the others lining the chrome-wire shelf. After unloading and breaking down the cardboard, your eyes shifted to the Apple watch around your wrist, which read 6:09 pm. Unpacking today's delivery of medical supplies pared only a single hour away from your twelve-hour night shift, causing an exasperated sigh to fall from your lips. You adjusted your navy blue watch band and rose to your feet to provide your knees with much-needed relief after kneeling upon the hospital's mosaic tile floor for an extended period. A smile appeared as you took a few steps back to review your work and admire your pristine organization before tucking the cardboard under your arm and touching the light switch.

As you entered the hallway, an adagio melody of soft chatters reached your ears. Your nose picked up the remnants of a disinfectant miasma as if the hospital came to life and unleashed a deluge of germicide upon itself like the Overlook Hotel from The Shining. You look deeper into the hallway to your left and into the waiting room on your right, waiting for a code to begin over the intercom and a flock of nurses rushing around the corner with a crash cart. But the announcement never came, causing you to blink at the colleagues meandering past with their files and patients. The hospital's serenity continued to hold against the chaos of the bustling Manhattan streets outside, a rarity in the most populated metropolis in the country.

You closed the door behind you, waiting for the light on the card reader to turn red, signifying that the storeroom had locked. Afterward, you joined the flow of hospital staff wandering through the department on your way to the emergency room’s hospital bay, where the maintenance staff stored the recycling for easy disposal. Several nurses, who must have received a slight lull while waiting for new patients or test results, mulled around the central station. They stood against the white quartz countertop, filling out paperwork or discussing their plans for their next day off with the RNs assigned to monitor the systems for that shift. The handful of invalids who visited the emergency room that evening lay interspersed upon the flimsy white mattresses lining the hospital’s beds with their eyes fixated on their phones or a book in their hands. In one or two stations, a fortunate soul conversed with one of the scheduled doctors, who explained their diagnoses and proceeding prognosis through gestures toward their tablets and illuminated X-rays. Their mouths moved in gentle whispers, preventing you from picking on their reason for visiting. However, based on their relaxed demeanor, you deduced it was for non-critical injuries, like broken bones and simple sutures, and other everyday ailments as you wandered further from the department’s core.

After several moments, the expansive black sliding doors where the EMTs unloaded patients from their ambulances came into view. The sight added an extra bounce in your step, driving you to the recycling room in desperation to trash your cardboard and join your fellow nurses at the station or perhaps grab a cup of mediocre coffee the hospital stocked in the break area from local grocers. However, before you could take your break, one of the boxes slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor, causing you to stop. As you bent down to retrieve it, a chill began to rise on your spine as the sound echoed through the ambulance bay. The hospital was well-lit, and you could still see bits of your co-workers' pastel scrubs in the distance, but an eerie silence had permeated the air. In the city that never sleeps, you often had a faint cacophony of horns honking and emergency services sirens always accompanying you. But there was nothing like seeing the dark storm clouds before hearing the thunder.

Suddenly, indistinct red and blue shimmers appeared on the off-white walls, causing you to lift your head and turn your attention to the dancing lights. You slouched your shoulders and rolled your eyes at the illuminations as the ambiance of the distant siren struck up once more and confirmed the proximity of an emergency service vehicle. Despite your odds, an incessant mantra began in your head, pleading with the lights to disappear and the siren to fade into as the New York City Police Department or Fire Department passed on their way to an emergency. The Universe sadly appeared to ignore your invocation as the lights and sirens grew ever closer to Bellevue, and you grimaced upon realizing that it was the FDNY, but not for a blazing inferno threatening to burn down several city blocks.

“Fuck!” you said under your breath as you recognized the youthful visage of one of the EMTs who often brought patients to the hospital through the bay doors. You grabbed the cardboard and leaned it against the recycling room door, making a mental note to dispose of it later if maintenance didn’t remove it first. Turning to the door, you grabbed a pair of sterile gloves from a nearby box and rushed out to meet the team.

The EMT smiled as he saw you emerging into the cool spring air from the building. “Evening! I have an interesting one for you: Matt, 22, got into a bar fight at The Foundry a few blocks down in Gramercy. His vitals are stable, and the only noticeable injury is this laceration on his forehead.” He pointed to a patch of gauze on the patient’s face, anchored with two pieces of medical tape. “Apparently, there was a group of rowdy patrons there, and Matt and his friends intervened, causing one of the guys to launch a beer bottle at Matt’s head. He declined to press charges, so no visits from PD, and seems alert. He’s also not too thrilled about getting checked out at the hospital because he’s afraid some guy named Peter would kill him, but I told him it was protocol.”

“Hi, Matt. I’m one of the nurses who works in the emergency room here. It looks like you have a nice cut on your head. We’re going to get you checked out and make sure you don’t have any other hidden injuries. And then, we should get you out by the end of the night. How does that sound?” you explained, approaching the stretcher and placing a comforting hand on the guardrail.

Matt turned his head, acknowledging you with his honey-almond eyes. Your grip around the bed rail tightened, and you tilted your head to study his features better as you neared the bed. Given the fact that the wound wasn’t actively bleeding, it appeared prime facie that the wound was superficial and wouldn’t cause a lasting scar to maim his handsome face. He wore a tense smile on his uneven pink lips and under an adorable button nose while a few strands of his long chestnut hair framed his square jaw. Noticeable dried blood spots on his white button-up peeked out from his dark grey blazer, but it was nothing that some coffee grounds would be able to take out. He also possessed a delicate aroma of juniper, possibly from a cologne that he bought on Fifth Avenue, which tied his outfit together and gave him a gentlemanly appearance. Intrusive began storming your subconscious, compelling you to remark on his handsomeness. However, despite the persistent urge, you remained in place and offered Matt a warm smile, hoping it would ease his fears. He regarded your face for a moment more before reciprocating your tenderness and spreading his lips into a more genuine smile.

The paramedic exchanged puzzled looks with his technicians waiting to roll Matt into the emergency room, wondering why you two were staring at each other. After a few moments, he cleared his throat to break the intimate encounter. “Yeah, so, that’s the story. Can we head into the emergency room to get him some help?”

“Oh, yes, I’m so sorry,” you replied as your brain uncrossed its wires, allowing you to re-comprehend human speech. You stepped back and turned your head to the aging brick wall constructing the hospital, pretending to stare at something to avoid eye contact with the technicians as they entered the ambulance bay.

Once they had passed, you fixed your eyes on their backs as they rolled Matt through the doors. The intrusive thoughts finally gave up the fight, but the battle left more questions than answers. You have worked at Bellevue for several years and received outstanding reviews on your bedside manner and standard of care for your patients. But you had never established an infatuation with a patient before. Perhaps it was his handsome appearance or the story of Matt selflessly placing himself between a group of drunk guys that made him sound like a hero in a fable. Whatever the reason, you pursed your lips at the thought of having to get back to work as you stumbled into the emergency room with the paramedic in tow.

The technicians guided Matt over to a nearby station at your instruction and parked the stretcher near the bed, allowing Matt to climb in on his own volition. It took some work, but he maneuvered his long, robust limbs comfortably onto the sterile striped sheets. You gave the EMTs a polite nod and thanked them for their assistance as they packed up their supplies and headed back to the ambulance with the stretcher, allowing you to return your attention to Matt. You raised the bed’s angle, giving Matt more solace and a better angle to examine his injury. Once everything was in place, you placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder and grabbed ahold of one of the pieces of medical tape.

“Alright, let’s look at this injury of yours. You’re going to feel a bit of discomfort, but it will only last a few seconds. Okay?” you explained. Matt responded with a nod, permitting you to remove the tape. Slowly, the adhesive separated from his ivory skin as you peeled it back, causing Matt to form a slight wince. The gauze lifted, revealing a long but otherwise clean cut an inch above Matt’s left eyebrow. “Oh, that’s not that bad. It’s a neat, straight cut, and there doesn’t appear to be any glass fragments there, which means that getting you sutured up will be easy. You relax here while I go see which general surgeon we have on call tonight.”

“Thank you,” Matt replied in his gruff tenor voice, shifting in his bed as he prepared to wait.

You returned to the storeroom once more and retrieved a series of butterfly strips and a non-adhesive bandage to help close the wound while you waited for the surgeon. As you tended to his wound, your eyes caught glimpses of a video playing on Matt’s phone. The pendant lights fastened from old canning jars hanging around the bar created a cozy ambiance for enjoying a nice stout or a lager after a long day at work, but it did not provide enough lighting for filming. Nevertheless, you could make out the contours of Matt’s stern face as he glared at another bar patron, who resembled the stereotypical blond, old-money villain from a romantic comedy. In the shadows, a man’s arm grabbed Matt’s bicep and attempted to drag him away from his scowling opponent, but Matt’s goliath frame stood firm. A few moments passed before the assailant launched himself at Matt, pushing him against one of the lacquered wood high-tops and punching him in the face. Matt's fierce right hook was the last thing you saw before the videographer concluded the recording, and the screen went black. After the video finished, Matt’s long fingers navigated out of full-screen mode and through the never-ending sea of comments and reactions from fans on Twitter.

“You have a nice punch there. Are you a boxer?” you asked as you focused on straightening a butterfly strip.

Matt let out a chuckle as he continued scrolling. “No, more like a hockey player. Some of the guys and I were out enjoying a couple of drinks before all of them returned home for the off-season, and we overheard a bunch of pricks from some Ivy League school out east. They were harassing some girls across the bar. I have two older sisters. If they talked to one of them like that, those guys wouldn’t be in the back of a police car; they would be in the back of a hearse.”

“Where did the beer bottle come from?”

“One of the douchebags bonked me over the head when I wasn’t looking. I’m lucky I got off with nothing but a simple cut.”

“You can say that again. On behalf of all female kind, I just want to say thanks.”

Matt furrowed his brow as you reapplied more medical tape to finish the dressage. “Female-kind? Not womankind?”

“Yeah, I’m non-binary,” you replied, grabbing wrappers and clicking the tape back into its case.

"Right on!” said Matt with a nod and his attention fixed on his Twitter feed.

You smiled and patted his shoulder as you rose from your stool and disposed of the wrappers in a nearby wastebasket. A warmth spread across your chest as you returned to the nurses' station to consult the on-call and see which number you needed to dial. You traced over each line until you saw the general surgeon’s name, a veteran with several years of experience in the hospital, and picked up the phone, tucking it between your shoulder and ear. In the several years you worked for New York City Health and Hospitals, you didn’t receive much hate for being a non-binary nurse. A few older patients would glare at you upon seeing the rose-colored button on your ID, informing them of your she/they pronouns. But they pursed their lips as you took their vitals, knowing that the wrong word would cause their bridge to healthcare to incinerate faster than the Great Fire of London. The others who accepted you often interrogated you on when you learned you were non-binary and what your thoughts were on the current political climate. While they were always well-intended, their line of questioning sometimes felt invasive. You weren’t participating in a pageant or running for city office, making your personal life irrelevant to their care. That is why Matt was such a breath of fresh air. He cared enough not to treat you like an oddity but didn’t overly care to the point that you became a fragile flower. He allowed you to be you without any regret.

A minute or two passed until a female voice belonging to the general surgeon came onto the line. You explained the situation and Matt’s status, prompting her to state she would be right down. The hospital stowed the surgeon's offices in another wing far from the emergency room, and it would take the doctor a few minutes to travel from her ivory tower. With little to keep you occupied, you returned to your stool in Matt’s station. The two of you conversed about anything you could devise — his hockey career, your nursing career, how he ended up in New York, how you found your way from Detroit. Eventually, the surgeon showed up and stitched together a nice line in his head before giving him instructions on proper wound care. The dissolving stitches would disappear over the next few weeks, but the hospital required Matt to return a week to ensure proper healing. Matt nodded at everything the surgeon said, causing a few more strands of hair to fall to his face. The surgeon’s voice faded to the back of your mind as you fiddled with your watch band once more, trying to ignore the melancholy weighing in your heart. Some of you wanted to see Matt and his aesthetic face again and listen to his charming cadence blather on about his summer. But he was a professional hockey player who had better things to do than visit one of the hundreds of nurses working in the Big Apple. He would likely visit the surgeon’s office through another entrance or even the Rangers’ physician. The possibility of seeing him again outside of one of the hospital’s entrances on your break did exist.

But would he remember you?

Unfortunately, despite your wishes, you never saw Matt again after that day. You rationalized that he must have slipped in and out to visit the surgeon on one of your days off. His presence left a bittersweet mark on your life, like a dent in a hockey rink, for you were glad you met him but sad he left so soon. But you had no time to dawdle on what could have been, for other patients required your attention. It was almost time for the City’s annual Desi Heritage Day, uniting the Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi enclaves from around New York.

While reports of South Asians in the United States existed back to the 1700s, it wasn’t until the early 20th century that the Desi immigration began to increase. Today, New York City boasts one of the largest South Asian populations outside of California. It would only be befitting if the community celebrated their progress over the past 100 years. The Desi-American Association of New York obtains permission from the NYPD to block off a portion of Lexington Avenue at the heart of several Indian restaurants. They decorated the light poles and streets with colorful draping, flowers, and plastic folding tables lining the sidewalks, permeating the air with the delectable aroma of dishes from the local restaurants. You didn’t always receive a chance to visit the festival due to your work schedule, but you tried to get outside during your breaks to hear the dhols drumming in the distance.

This year, the hospital’s director of emergency medicine and human resources authorized you to have the day off to enjoy the festival after several previous tries. You immediately ran to your closet in your West Village loft and pulled out a gorgeous maroon kurta from the upper shelves amidst various clothes and sets of scrubs. It needed some cleaning and ironing from being stowed away for so long, but it was perfect for the occasion. The calf-length dress was solid in color, with two thin golden lines reaching from the shoulders down to the hemline. The tunic and the matching pants contrasted perfectly with the busyness of the dupatta, a long piece of chiffon with an aureate border and ornate flowers decorating the entity of the sheer fabric.

You made plans with a few friends to meet near 28th Street and put on your kurta, ready to enjoy some naan and biryani. But one thing was missing: a bangle your family gifted you before you left Michigan from New York. The only times you removed it were during showering and work. It always remained in a designated pocket in your bookbag, locked away in the nurses' lockers. But it disappeared without a trace over the past few days. You retraced your steps and searched high and low for any sign of it — your apartment, the hospital, and even the station where you treated Matt. However, there was no sign of it.

“Come on! Come on! You must be here somewhere!” you said as you lifted the pillows from your couch in the living area.

However, before you completed your quest, your phone rang an alarm, signifying it was time to gather your stuff and go. You hung your head and sighed, exasperated at your failure, before grabbing your phone off its charger in the kitchen and shoving it into a golden clutch. You also maneuvered a pair of crisscrossed chunky heals into place and draped the dupatta. After looking over your outfit again, you locked your unit door and went downstairs to the nearest subway station. It admittedly stung that you couldn’t find the bracelet, a treasured connection to your family and friends back home in the Midwest. But as the green line grew closer to the festivities, you remembered that the bangle could be replaced, but memories of celebrating your heritage with your friends could not. Outside the oblong subway windows, you caught glimpses of 28th Street Station’s tiled sign, causing you to rise from your plastic seat. The car stopped, allowing you and several other passengers to step out onto the musty underground. You followed the crowd through the exit turnstiles and the decrepit stairs toward the Manhattan streets. A familiar sound reverberated through the air as you returned above ground: the dhol with several other Desi instruments accompanying it. You followed the music until you came across a large gathering of Manhattanites and other New York residents of all ethnicities wandering through the blocked-off portions of the street. Women in delicate sarees and men in sleek jodhpuri suits mingled in the streets, catching up on lost time, while children did their best to draw mandalas with sidewalk chalk. The restaurants from the surrounding businesses help hand out sweet and savory Desi food to any souls who wander into the celebration, from butter chicken to jalebi.

“You look really nice today,” a man complimented behind you.

Your eyes grew wide upon recognizing that gruff tenor voice. A kaleidoscope of butterflies danced around your stomach as you mustered the courage to turn around to confirm the man’s identity. There was no chance it was an acquaintance or a co-worker from the hospital. It was Matt, and you knew it was Matt. Eventually, after several moments, you strengthened your resolve to turn your head around slowly. Matt met you with the warm smile he offered you as the FDNY rolled him into the ambulance bay. His laceration, which had long since lost its sutures, began to form a neat little line of scar tissue in his forehead. He had his hair brushed back, giving him adorable angel wings around the ears and wore a simple ensemble of a tan jacket and black jeans. Despite the casual attire, he still had a sense of suaveness as he shifted his tall frame around, waiting for you to break the awkward silence.

“Oh, thank you. It’s for the festival,” you replied, turning around to gesture and the frivolity behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to return this,” said Matt as he dug out something from his pants pocket.

Your mouth fell open as he presented you with your lost bangle. You quickly grabbed it from his hands and spun it with your thumbs, searching for any scratches or scuffs under the light of the spring sun. But it was just as pristine and polished as the day it came out of the box. You shoved your hand through the middle of the bracelet, allowing it to gently slide down on your forearm near the three-quarter sleeves of your dress. “Where did you find it?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

“I saw it on the ground while I was leaving the hospital. It must have fallen out of your bag or something,” he replied.

“But why didn’t you return it to the nurse's station?”

“I held onto it because it seemed important, and I also wanted a reason to see you again. You seem like a cool person.”

“I appreciate that. But that also doesn’t explain how you knew I would be here.”

“Well, a famous office manager once quoted a famous hockey player in saying that you miss 100% of the shots that you don’t take. I remember you talking about a festival down the road, and this happened to be the only festival down the block from the hospital in the next few months, so I decided this was the best place to catch you, if any.”

You giggled at his reference and said, “It sounds like you went through a lot of trouble to get it back to me, and I appreciate it. This bracelet cost a pretty penny for my family, and it means a lot. So, thank you.”

“Of course, it’s not a problem. I hope to see you around. Have fun at your party,” Matt said, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning around to leave.

“Wait!” you cried out as you chased him, attempting to stop him before he became another face in the strangers walking up and down the sidewalks. He turned around and faced you upon hearing your exclamation, allowing you to catch up with his long gait. As you skidded to a halt before him, you continued, “You came all this way down to return my bracelet, so you might as well stay for the party. I know it seems overwhelming, but it’s actually a lot of fun and open to everyone. Think of it as a tiebreaker.”

“I do have to admit that it does look like a fun time. I was just under the impression I would be stepping on some toes by intruding,” he replied.

“Nonsense. You’re more than welcome here. Come on,” you protested before grabbing his hand and leading him towards the crowd.

It took some work, but you eventually found your friends mulling around your designated meeting area and introduced them to Matt. Their eyes widened as they watched you drag a rising defenseman from the New York Rangers over to them, but they quickly recovered and welcomed him into the group without complaint. As the sun climbed high into the sky, the lot of you led Matt around the streets, introducing him to other community members and showing him Desi cuisine. At first, you thought Matt might be nervous, being thrust into a world of new sounds and smells. But he took everything in stride as he slowly learned about the community’s history and customs. Even when he pronounced a word wrong, the two of you would share a laugh as you walked him through the word’s etymology. The same tingling sensation you felt at the hospital had returned as you watched Matt integrating himself into the culture. It had been a long season for the underrepresented demographics in the hockey community, leaving you a bit jaded over meeting stars like Matt. As the league says, business is business, and there seldom were any consequences for players who expressed maladaptive views. However, as you listened to Matt’s chuckle and how intently he listened to your heritage, you slowly began to believe that Matt could be one of the good ones.

The party went well into the afternoon until around dinner time when the Association determined it was time to pack everything up out of respect for the people who lived in Lennox Hill. You and Matt said goodbye to your friends before staying behind to assist the association volunteers in cleaning up from the celebration. Your hands gently guided a broom down the asphalt, pushing colorful flower petals into a pile, while Matt assisted in folding up the tables and loading them into the rental truck. The work went by relatively fast when you have a 6’8”, 240-lb man on the clock. Eventually, the attendees began to dwindle until you and Matt stood in the middle of the road. As you committed Matt's features to memory, a gentle breeze swayed your hair and dupatta.

“Thank you for such a wonderful time,” Matt eventually said, breaking the silence. “I definitely learned a lot.”

“It’s the least I could do after you return my bracelet.”

“I know you said this was a tiebreaker, but now I feel like I owe you again. Maybe I could leave you some tickets at will call when the season starts again. It would be my treat.”

“That sounds lovely. I think I’ll take you up on that offer in the fall,” you laughed. “I should probably get going. This kurta is beautiful, but I would prefer to change into something more comfortable.”

“Of course. If you don’t mind, may I escort you back to the subway,” replied Matt, offering you his elbow’s crook like a true gentleman.

You nodded and slinked your arm through the aperture he created. The two of you walked toward the Manhattan horizon, painted in soft hues of orange and yellow as the sun prepared to set, now friends brought together through the power of medicine.

#2k24 summer fic exchange #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl fic #new york rangers #matt rempe #matt rempe fic

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hotxcheeto · 1 year

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My request is bakugo x female reader. They are neighbors but they live in apartments he kinda ha a crush on her and brings her roses or flowers in general but one morning she catches him so she asks him on a date ( he is a pro hero btw an she works as a nurse in a hospital)

━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) -Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing ( obvi ), slight mentions of reader wanting to jokingly run off a building, mentions and light descriptions of injuries (kats + other unnamed hero)

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - i lost this request in my drafts? like it just disappeared? idk it was so weird but i found it, it's adorable, so sorry it took so long lol! ily! MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

The first time you met him was an unfortunate one.

It sadly began with a broken jar of almond butter.

You wanted to try it and you finally had scheduled the perfect time to go grocery shopping, on a day you didn't want to toss yourself off your balcony head first. You wondered if living on the ninth floor was a good idea each time you'd come home from a twelve or ten hour shift with a migraine and aching feet. Staring ominously at the glass door near your couch while eating chips and giggling at the hot actors on screen.

It was the catalyst though, that ninth floor, because the day the elevator broke and you had to carry your groceries all the way up, you just so happened to run into a man flying through the door at the same time you were opening it.

There went the almond butter down the ten stairs you'd just climbed to finally reach your home ground. But the eighth floor must've been tempting as it tried heading back that way.

The glass container had taken the tumble when your neighbor and you collided. It was no one's fault truly, and he apologized, but you could barely hear him over the sound of his gorgeous face.

You'd seen him before. Somewhere. Oh God, where was it?

"Sorry, I should've been paying attention." You had said, picking things that had spilled out of your bags while trying not to take a fall down the stairs yourself from the pain in your body.

"I'm not the one that got hit by a fuckin' door." His bluntness had made you snort, covering your mouth quickly to hide your laughter, having to pause your actions as you giggled.

"It was not that funny." He then said, biting back a smirk. You shook your head though, continuing to tuck yourself away and stand up. "It's not that." You then turned, seeing the splattered caramel colored condiment on the cement just below.

"Aww. I was looking forward to that."

The stranger's head swiveled to the side as he stood, looking at the broken mess. Then to your slight pout, watching the way you put your hands on your hips then shrugged.

"I bet it tasted like shit anyway." You shrugged.

It was his turn to laugh, gravelly and genuine.

"Here, I got these." He then said, gesturing to the bags. "I'll call maintenance after." "No, it's okay, I got it really." You nodded, moving to pick up your groceries but he'd snatched them before you could, grabbing most of the bags with one hand making his muscles flex in his arm.

"Oh-" "Which one's yours?"

From there you'd shown him your door which just so happened to be beside his, thanking him again a few times while he tried to reimburse you for the lost almond spread but you denied. Stating that you didn't need it and you for sure could live without it.

And with that, you and your neighbor parted ways...

until you met again that is.

The second time you met him was even more unfortunate.

You'd been rushing around the hospital after a horrible attack in Tokyo that left many of the hero's injured. That meant it also left you with another few hours of trying not to trip over your coworkers and get hit by flying beds.

By the time you reached one of the patients assigned to you he'd already begun fighting the other nurses that had been trying to help make him and all the others in the room comfortable.

His hero suit was ripped where he'd been injured, the black fabric hiding the fact that he was bleeding. Though it was obvious to you who could see it in the bright lights that shone down onto your bodies. The red just barely visible, your eyes then scanning a certain familiar tuff of blonde hair you swore you'd seen before.

"I'm fine you shitheads!"

"Mr. Dynamight, sir, you need to take a seat you've lost a lot of bl-"

"Did you not hear me damn it!"

He sounded a bit like a toddler as you came around holding everything you thought you needed in your arms. You looked so amusing standing there holding it all scooped against your chest while watching the scene play out.

"Hi." You then spoke up with your trained customer service smile, working retail back then sure helped in these situations. Though if he happened to throw something at you, there was no blocking it from hitting the target that would become your forehead.

"My name is Y/n, m'gonna help you out today, sir."

It's like the world stopped turning from the dead silence that came over him. The others stared at him with wide eyes and slight confusion while glancing over at you as if silently asking what the hell he was doing.

He just stood and twitched.

And then he turned, and a face you'd just seen a few days ago met yours. You didn't break though, showing him what you had.

"I can patch you up and you'll be out of here in barely a few hours, I swear. Now, leave us alone here guys?"

Your fellow peers quietly gave you a nod, running off to help the guy with yellow hair complaining that his head hurt and to stop his crying out, only repeating that he felt like a spaghetti noodle.

"I knew that I knew you from somewhere." You then smiled towards him, setting your stuff down and guiding him to actually sit instead of standing all hunched over and angry. "But I just couldn't put my finger on it." You finished, beginning to examine his cuts.

"Hm.." Was all you got from him, the tips of his ears slightly red as you looked his torso over. "You're gonna have to take this top part off. So I can see what I'm working with."

He did what you'd asked, jaw clenched as he moved, obvious that he was in pain. Though, not a sound passes his chapped lips that were lightly tinted pink. His suit finally dropped, pooling around his hips giving you full access to each of the large scratches and cuts that riddled his flesh.

"So Dynamight is my neighbor." You broke the quiet, cleaning a cut on his shoulder while he watched you with his crimson eyes. "How interesting." You joked, moving to his side to continue.

"Not what you expected?" He then asked quietly, watching as you shook your head. "I thought you were just another gym bro." He smiled slightly when you giggled at your term, trying not to hiss when you cleaned a much deeper cut on his side.

"Turns out... you're a hero. In the top three too, and I didn't even realize." You teased yourself, lifting his arm up to press a bandage to his side. "I feel kind of silly now."

"It's nice." You glanced up when he then spoke, grabbing another bandage as he continued to go on, "Not having every person you meet drop to their knees in adoration." You smiled at that, nodding your head, even ignoring his slight dramatic tone.

"Has to be refreshing." The not-so-stranger agreed, at your response.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

You continued to clean him up in silence, though not stiff, it was more of a comfortable atmosphere while you finished up. Leaving him to go attend to others but something about the interaction never left your mind.

And when you got home that night, tired and looking forward to watching Netflix with your cat. A glistening jar of almond butter and a bouquet of flowers sat on the mat in front of your door. No note, no other sign of life in the hall. Just those two things.

But you knew who they were from.

The third, fourth and fifth time were a bit different.

Each time you'd run into him at the hospital, it was always a result of him getting hurt, but you'd been the only nurse besides your boss that could handle him, and your boss nearly threw a bedpan at him the last time.

You'd help him with no words needing to be exchanged to make you understand why he hated the help. Though, you would never say it out loud, like he preferred, the less you talked, the more he'd begun to crave it.

Yearning to hear you joke with him or maybe tease him about the fact that he's practically deaf and you can tell because he keeps his TV incredibly loud. So loud your wall vibrates sometimes and you have to knock to get him to turn it down a notch or two.

He blames it on the explosions.

You never argue with that.

And each time you arrived home there would be flowers sitting in wait for you, and each time you knew who they were from, but you never brought it up.

Days to weeks passed between each time he got his ass handed to him. But he never faltered. He had a goal, and when Katsuki had a goal, he was gonna meet it.

You brushed it off, thinking it was a sweet way to say thank you from someone who practically choked and fought air trying to say those two words to anyone let alone a stranger.

A stranger that now knew you loved almond butter and talked to her cat all day. Sometimes even responding by meowing back and he'd, not in a creepy way, just sit to listen to you.

He came to a realization that he knew your first name. But he'd never told you his, and though you could've easily googled it, he couldn't help but wonder if you cared enough.

You did, the moment you met him as Dynamight, you couldn't tear yourself away from your laptop. You wanted to know who was behind the mask, in the Marvel sense of the words. Now that you had met both the hero, and your neighbor.

And you learned who your neighbor was pretty quickly.

Bakugou Katsuki.

The sixth time, he grew a pair.

He felt kind of stalkerish constantly leaving the gifts, and he hoped silently that he was creeping you out. Coming out of the elevator expecting to see an empty hallway, but you'd gotten off early and were already crouched down and petting the kitty that had waddled through the door to greet you.

Fucking hell, you were starting to be everywhere.

Or maybe that was just in his mind.

"You don't have to get me flowers every time you know, if you keep getting thrown through buildings, I'm gonna run out of vases."

Well at least you didn't throw out the other flowers.

"That was one time." He spoke up, stepping towards you and tucking his hands in his pockets to warm his hands. His compression shirt showing off each and every little indent in his torso making your heart skip a beat.

You felt like a teenager again.

"Tell that to the ribs you fractured." You said, your cat dancing around your legs and then moving to his. Purring and stepping up against him to gain his attention, but that was all on you.

"She likes you." You smiled, looking down at her before meeting his eyes. "She doesn't like anyone." "Cats got good taste if she likes you."

You looked away, a shy expression flashing on your face as you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"I mean... I could say the same for you."

There was a very juvenile giddiness that you both felt in your gut, the man watching you pick up your cat before grinning at him.

"So am I allowed to call you Bakugou now? Or do I still have to call you Mr. Dynamight?"

"You're an idiot."

"Mr. Dynamight it is."

You turned to bring in your baby but he'd cleared his throat, your head turning to face him. Your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was thinking..." "Yes."

He raised an eyebrow, gawking at you for a split second.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say?" He all but yelled slightly, you only laughed.

"Yes I do." You nodded, the cat meowing in agreement. "But I want you to cook, I am so sick of just smelling it in the hallway."

He blushed profusely, looking down at the ground. Swallowing before nodding and giving a light scoff.

"Whatever, see you tonight."

And that he did.

a/n: this sucks, but it was my first time writing for him :)

requests now open - i promise i'll get better at it just like i did with my older fandoms

#katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x female reader

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starlightiing · 1 month

Text

Anyway I have to start writing again. I have some of the next part of Car Crash Hearts written but I'd like to work on something else for a minute.

The descriptions are awful but there's not a lot of room to expand on them.

1. Pierre majors in sports cardiology and his roommate Esteban is an athlete. Esteban ends up in F1 at the end, with Pierre as his personal physician.

2. Pierre works in the hatchery with baby dinosaurs and Esteban is on asset containment security. Disaster strikes and they're left behind when the Evac boats leave. They have to work together to get off the island.

3. Pierre is a highly advanced state of the art android and you can't really tell the difference between him and a human unless you were to open him up. Esteban is his technician and the only person in the world who can fix him/maintenance him. But something happens that ends up in Pierre and Esteban going on the run (Estie has now technically stolen this android) and they fall in begrudging love along the way.

4. Pierre is found half-turned. Esteban puts him out of his misery and finishes the job (he's been a vampire for a while). However, Pierre's other sire comes back and makes a lot of problems for them. More than they are prepared to deal with.

5. If you haven't read the first part of Car Crash Hearts, I implore you to. But yeah Pierre gets into a horrible car accident (personal, not on the track) and Esteban is still listed as his emergency contact. He's left to pick up the pieces and deal with his complicated feelings regarding Pierre while he's watching the poor guy fight for his life in a hospital bed.

6. Pierre gets into a crash on track and he ends up paralyzed from the waist down and unable to drive. There are some other medical conditions as well. He requires a full time caretaker. Nyck de Vries is who Pierre's mum ends up hiring. He's a licensed counselor, a registered nurse, and one of the best caretakers in the world. Even he is not prepared for the wonder and mess that is a broken hearted, stubborn, scorned Pierre Gasly. Angst, healing, and love abound here.

7. Train AU - Pierre and Charles grow up poor (I haven't decided on the time period yet but it's far in the past). Pierre has a plethora of medical conditions (heart condition, severe asthma, among other things) and he's unable to do much of anything at all. Charles, even as kids, always put Pierre first and stayed loyally by his side. He ends up coming up with a plan to get them to a better life and maybe finally get Pierre into a doctor...but it's unknown if Pierre will be strong enough to survive the trip. Charles tries anyway.

8. Pierre rejects Charles. Charles turns to Esteban as a rebound. Esteban is incredibly wary, but he can't deny Charles what he needs. Things get a bit hairy, Esteban gets hurt a few times, but they do work it out in the end. Estie/Charles in the end.

#i have other ideas butttttttt #this post got long #pierresteban #nyckierre

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psithurista · 1 year

Text

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy.

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap.

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside.

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.  

Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability.

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing.

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.” His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius.

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking.

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.”

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles.

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers.

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken.

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful.

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer.

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline.

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.  It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.  “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified.   “It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt.

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch.

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap.

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing.

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him.

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you.

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him.

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours.

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest.

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles.

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

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