#i usually have all my pillows encasing me

[killerchickadee]

I'm on my way home from Nebraska but I stopped for the night cause I didn't want to subject Oscar (or myself tbh) to another 10 hour haul, and I just want you guys to know that this hotel room is bigger than my entire apartment

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Giggle Fits

Summary: most precious bean in all the earth cannot stop laughing and making dumb jokes with his s/o, but they share his humor too warnings: none just fluff (and maybe bad jokes and quotes) 1028 words

Wooyoung was already sitting on the couch munching on some snacks when you entered the living room. Your favorite blanket was conveniently wrapped around his frame, tucked deeply behind him, most likely to prevent you from taking it back. He did everything possible to avoid eye contact.

You squinted your eyes at him, plopping down on the couch. "You look cosy," you remarked sarcastically.

He hummed, biting back a mischievous smile and still avoiding your eyes. He knew he would be unable to keep a straight face if he looked at you. That man was weak when it came to you.

A moment passed where he finally managed to fight the urge and settled back into his show. It was one he often binged when he came home. You recalled him mentioning how much he preferred to watch crime shows when he was in comfortable clothes and knew he wouldn't be sleeping alone.

The next episode started, the familiar theme song playing once again. "You know, you'd think the singers would get tired of repeating this song for every episode."

Wooyoung suddenly burst into laughter at your silly words, immediately looking your way. "What are you even saying?"

You started giggling too, shrugging carelessly. "What? Am I wrong? It's the same one each time!"

He continued to laugh loudly, hand reaching up to cover his mouth as if to contain the sound. "You're so stupid. What are on?"

You couldn't help but lean forward in your seat, laughing just as loud as him. "You're stupid! You're telling me they don't get tired of repeating it so often? The same song, over and over-" you were cut off by a pillow being launched in your face.

"Stop it!" Woo cried out, wiping at the tears that built up. "I can't hear the show!"

You threw the pillow back at him, cheeks hurting from grinning so hard. "You're going to look at me and tell me that I'm wrong?"

He let out a scream, his laugh increasing its pitch as his head fell forward and landed on the arm of the couch. "Why are you...quoting...videos?" His words were barely coherent with the gasping in between.

You two shared random moments like these often. It only took one comment for you to suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, bouncing off each other's energy until you couldn't breathe. Usually it was over something dumb and not nearly as funny to others, but that's what made it special. The fact you shared the same humor and enjoyed those dumb laughs.

You were able to sit up more after a moment of deep breaths, regaining your train of thought as you did so. "No but seriously you need to start skipping the intro or I will murder you in your sleep."

He sighed heavily, flexing his mouth to help ease the pain in the muscle. "That took a dark turn. "

You sent a pointed finger his way. "I'm serious. And hand over my blanket while we're at it."

"Yes, your majesty," Wooyoung suddenly had a polite response, removing the blanket to raise it above his head with both hands.

Yanking the blanket, you nod at him. "That's what I thought."

He stands, moving to your side of the couch to hover above you. You curl your lip up at him in annoyance, moving your head around him to see the tv. However, Woo blocked you each time.

"Please allow me to lay with you."

Surprised by his words you stare up at at him with a laugh starting again. "What? Do what with me now?"

He smirked, leaning down to grab your arms and hold them away from your blanket. Quickly, he managed to sneak between the comforter and you, snuggling close to you. He nuzzled his head right in your neck, humming softly.

"Get off me you peasant!" You yelled out, wiggling so you could escape his grasp. But it was too late. His arms already snaked around your shoulders, encasing you in and tugging you closer. "Free me!"

He shook his head at your pleas. "Even peasants have desires, your majesty!"

The two of you started giggling at the strange conversation, having no control over the atmosphere anymore. When it came to your evenings together, it was like laughing gas filled the air each time. Uncontrollable laughter becomes quiet only for a brief amount of time before it starts up again.

"Let me go-"

"Shh!" He yelled, a hand struggling to raise up and cover your lips. "The show...it's on!"

You stopped suddenly, eyes maneuvering back to the tv to watch the show you both missed more than half of. Still, you both silently watched the scene that caught his attention. You sat there, squeezed against your lover-against your will- with his hand cupped harshly around your mouth, intently staring at the screen.

"I knew it," he whispered to you, shaking his head. "It was the mother all along."

Taken aback, you swivelled your head to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "You watched the show without me," you accused.

He sucked in his lips, once again avoiding your eyes. "I did not."

Your eyes widened. "With San?!"

He released you quickly, rushing to put distance between you and him. "Baby, wait-please, wait! Y-you see, I was bored on the airplane, and I-"

"I thought I was the only person you'd cuddle after watching true crime." You shook your head at him. "I guess I was wrong. I guess Kristoff doesn't love you enough to leave you behind."

Wooyoung stumbled over his feet as he attempted to go back to his side of the couch. "Why are you quoting things again?!"

Giggles escaped your lips, mimicking his. "Why do you understand what I'm quoting?"

He rubbed at his face, trying desperately to stop laughing. "I hate you so much."

"Right back at you," you joked, winking and smiling big.

You could never have these sort of conversations with anyone else. The laughs, the crazy talk, the understanding, all of it combined just made the best conversations for you to share. And that was something you grew to adore about Wooyoung.

[lycheedr3ams]

Low effort NSFW König imagine below the cut. MDNI

Warnings: fem!reader, thigh-fucking, light somnophilia, mentions of a certain body fluid sticking to thighs, reader has thick thighs (shameless self-insert)

plz don't report my smut fanfics as mature. when a post is tagged mature, far less people see it (likely bc they don't even realize they have "show mature posts" or whatever toggled off) like seriously plz don't report it as mature. i always have a cut so no one sees the actual NSFW part, and I include all TW's

...

Just thinking about how warm it gets under the covers when you’re cuddling with konig after sleeping all night. He can’t help the way his hands roam your impossibly warm, soft thighs. The way he also can’t help but gently paw at your ass over your panties

He’d nibble the shell of your ear and gently lick it, teasing you to get you to open those pillows you call thighs just enough so he can slip his morning hardness between them. The way he’d groan when your plush, warm, fleshy thighs would encase his throbbing length. How you’d be slightly awake, hearing his soft grunts as he’d roll his hips into your thighs, his happy trail grazing your ass over your panties

Konig always tried to be gentle in the morning. Usually he was. He wanted to be gentle with you since you were truly a sleeping beauty. He’d gently squeeze your hips as he rolled his own into your thighs, getting more desperate by the second. His smooth hardness just caressing your flesh, making your clit throb. His grunts would turn a bit more breathy as he got closer to his release

Konig always pulled his hips back a little before he came, so that he could release his sticky seed completely inside your thighs. He wouldn’t want to make a mess of your pretty panties or your favorite set of sheets, after all. The hotness of his release would warm your thighs instantly, and the wetness made them slick and slightly stick together.

When you tried to pull your thighs apart because of the slightly weird sensation, konig would gently hold them together in place, whispering “keep it safe for me, libeling”

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

One Step at a Time

Peter Parker x gn!reader

Masterlist

And thank you for (over) 250 followers! Wow <3

Summary: You're not having a good day, but you do have Peter.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of reader being upset, tired, crying. Comfort. Peter being a dork. Bad jokes. Angst. Fluff.

A/n: Inspired by my own life and @reidslovely's post here (thank you <3). Thank you for reading. Would love to hear what you think!

- -

Like a breeze drifting through a cracked window, Peter slipped into your shared apartment after patrolling. The golden hour laid against his back as he found you curled up in bed. As soon as he saw your body buried under the blankets and heard your ragged exhales, he took off his mask and came to your side. 

Though his muscles ached, he kneeled beside the bed. The red of the suit he still wore shined in the early evening light, encasing the hand he gingerly reached under the blankets. His fingers wrapped around yours, offering a lifeline – a chance to pull your head above the water.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispered, rubbing a thumb along the back of your hand.

The memories of today that you’d unsuccessfully tried to ignore came trickling back – until they grew into a suffocating flood threatening to break the dam. Your mind wavered, feeling exhausted and unable to do what you wanted. The same thing that seemed to happen every day.

Mornings started out okay, hopeful even that you could make it through. But then something would throw you off, make doubt and anxiety creep up your throat and paralyze you. The pillow sank further as you pressed your head into it, hoping it would quiet your brain just a little. Eventually, as Peter squeezed your hand, you found your voice.

“Work called me to ask if I could work overtime all week… and I just feel like they’re pulling me in a million different ways without letting me get a chance to breathe. But my coworker seems like she’s doing fine with it, so maybe I’m just not good at the job,” you sniffled from under the blanket, mumbling your words. 

“And then I tried to make lunch, but I burned it and made a huge mess that I still haven’t cleaned up – I’m sorry – and I went out to get myself a drink from our usual cafe to cheer me up, but someone bumped into me, so it all spilled on my new shirt.”

You took in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes shut. “I wanted today to be productive, to feel good about how much I accomplished. But all I’ve managed to do was make a mess of the apartment and waste the day away.”

Peter had let you talk, even though his jaw ticked as he kept himself from telling you to stop being hard on yourself. He let you get it all out before whispering, “Hey. Look at me, it’s okay. Come on, it’s just you and me.” His other hand slowly pulled the blanket from you, revealing your red eyes and tear-stained skin.

You found it hard to listen to his words, let alone do what he said, when your thoughts refused to slow down – instead, they multiplied, overlapping and jumbling into a mess that only make your hiccuping breaths worse. You stared downward, blinking away hot tears, when Peter’s hands found your jaw. His calloused fingers cupped around your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he brought your head up to look at him.

Through your watery vision, you let yourself fall into the deep color of his eyes, embracing the warmth and love they held. Your lip wavered as you tried stopping the next wave of tears from cresting past your lashes, your teeth digging into the inside of your cheek.

“Come here.” Peter pulled you into a hug, letting you wrap around his body while he rubbed up and down your back. Your fingers dug into the material of his suit, tried to squeeze it so hard that it would take you from your thoughts – pull you from this body that never seemed to be on your side.

Pulling back, Peter wiped the tears from your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry today hasn’t been good to you, and I would kick its ass for treating you like this if I could,” he said, earning a sad sort of laugh out of you.

“But you’re not some weak person incapable of handling things. I’m serious,” he said when you looked away, knowing that you were internally resisting his words. Pressing his forehead against yours, he continued. “First, your job is ridiculous for expecting you to give up your life for them. And second, you don’t need to accomplish a million things, or even one thing, to feel good about yourself. I know I’ve said it before, but your productivity does not define your self-worth, okay? I’m proud of you for making it through the day – I know it’s not always easy. But let’s start over and try again.”

Peter held you, making sure you heard his words loud and clear – forcing you to care about yourself as much as he did. Making his voice louder than the critical one inside your head. “I love you. Now, have you had anything to eat since lunch?” he asked, his voice so kind, like each word could somehow hold you together until you felt better.

You shook your head, sniffling once again. “I love you too.”

“Okay, I can quick grab some dinner and bring it back. What are you feeling?” He started to sit back on his heels, moving away just slightly.

Your hands held onto him harder, wordlessly pleading with him to stay. “Could you just order it for delivery?” you whispered, eyes fixated on the threads of the blanket.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll pull up a list of restaurants on my phone.” He came up on the bed, sitting against the headboard and pulling you into his chest. A few minutes passed as you scrolled through, willing yourself to find anything to eat.

Passing a burger place, Peter said, “I stopped a robber from stealing from that place last week. He didn’t appreciate my ‘Hamburglar’ jokes very much.”

You couldn’t stop from letting out a small laugh, pressing your face into his chest. “Do you really make conversation with the criminals you stop?”

He shrugged, a toothy smile spreading across his face. “Gotta make friends in this business somehow.”

Shaking your head, you just turned back to the list and picked out a place. “I’ll be right back,” Peter told you as he got up to grab his wallet, leaving you in the bed. 

The urge to crawl under the blanket again called to you in the cold absence of Peter, the wave of it nearly pushing you back into that mindset. But you held on, squeezing one of your hands with the other as you breathed through it.

You had this. You were capable, even when everything in the world tried to make you forget that. With a final wipe of your eyes, you slowly climbed from the bed and into the living room, one step at a time. Though your body tried telling you to go back and disappear, you kept going.

The sun still shined, the spring weather wafting into the apartment as you opened the window. It danced past you, placing warm kisses along your skin. 

You felt Peter walk up behind you, now dressed in sweats, wrapping his arms around your middle. Together, you watched the city breathe below. The skyline laid against a background of orange and yellow hues that you’d missed. A sunset you would’ve gone without had you stayed closed off under the blankets.

“Well I can’t fight the day if it’s going to look this beautiful,” Peter muttered as you laid your head back against his solid body. 

“What’s the point of having a superhero boyfriend if he can’t fight the universe for you?” You rested your arms on top of his, holding tight as you let out a dramatic sigh.

His hair brushed along you as he shook his head, a small smile on his face. Beside your ear, he whispered, “To do this.” His hand held onto you, picking you up like you weighed nothing as you let out a shriek.

He sat down on the couch, keeping you between his legs and your back to his chest. “I guess that is a perk,” you said, laughter shaking through your body. “Though… the remote is all the way over there.” You pointed over to the other side of the couch, just out of arm's reach.

“Also a good reason for a superhero boyfriend.” Peter shot his hand out toward it, webs snagging the remote.

He turned the TV on as you leaned back to look into his eyes, loving the bright glint they held. “Okay, you’ve proven yourself worthy. I’ll keep dating you.”

Even his dramatic sigh couldn’t hide his amusement, his complete adoration for you. “How generous of you. So glad I could be of service.”

The rumble of his laughter shook through you, leading a trail of warmth through your body. With your comfort movie playing on the TV, the two of you sat there. His chest rose and fell along with yours, breaths like watery swells crashing against one another. 

You only moved when the food arrived, Peter running down to grab it (but not before fixing you with a hard stare when you offered to grab it yourself.) 

Walking in with arms full a minute later, he called your name in a sing-songy voice. From behind his back, he pulled out more than just dinner. A bouquet full of colorful flowers sat in one hand while a drink from the cafe near your apartment sat in the other – the one you’d spilled earlier. 

In an instant, soft tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes as you looked at him and his nervous smile. “Thought this could help,” he said, handing you the drink and food. “You deserve it.”

“Peter…” you whispered as he started toward the kitchen. But you grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back onto the couch.

He flopped next to you, hair wild as he looked between you and the flowers. “But…” Though the look you gave him made him quickly give up. Peter couldn’t help being weak against any request you made.

The flowers were lovely, of course, but in the wave of emotion that filled your heart, you just wanted Peter right by your side. Setting everything else aside, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him. Only the two of you existed in the moment, everything else disappearing. The movie continued on in the background, but you stayed there, with him.

In his embrace, you could feel the weight of his earlier words – his urge to be kind to yourself. You would certainly try, as you took small steps through life. And no, not every day was going to be easy. But they were easier with Peter.

[disintegratedfingers]

You Should Sleep

Optional: For more realistic experience, make the space you're in a bit cooler, maybe with a fan. Get comfy. Listen to the song above.

Pairing: Fem!reader x Denki Warnings: Light swearing. Content: Fluffy fluff. (Proofread✅)

_______

"Psst- hey!"

You slide your head across the pillow, squinting through the dark.

"Did you take my face masks?" Denki had cracked the door open. "I checked everywhere- can't find 'em. Y'know, the little, green box?"

"Hmm," you mumbled, turning your head away. "...I don't really... care...?" You close your eyes, silence meeting your ears.

But only for a moment.

"Mmmffff- no way!" The boy sat on your back, legs dangling over the side of the bed. "Get off!" You grumbled.

"Where're my face masks?!" He demanded.

"I don't know!" You heaved yourself out from under him and rubbed your eyes, sitting with a leg tucked under the other. "It's really fucking late. I'm not doing this right now."

Denki huffed and crossed his arms. "Where's a friend when you need one... my face is all itchy and dry, okay? Plus, I can't fall asleep!"

"Well now I can't sleep!" You hissed. "If Aizawa finds out you snuck over here-"

"Very skillfully on my part," the boy tilted his head boastfully, raising his brow with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

"Well I don't have your face masks," climbing back under your covers, on the opposite side, you lay down with a frustrated sigh.

A few quiet moments and faint rustlings ensued before the mattress dipped beside you. You turned over again, glaring at the boy. He met your gaze with a kind of innocent curiosity.

"You think Momo would be willing to make me some more?" He asked. "If I end up losing them for good?" You waved a weak hand.

"She can do anything... what a girlboss," you mumble, eyes drooping. "Justdonttreatherlikeafactorymmmmm...." sleep was nagging your brain as well as your body.

"..."

"...roll over," Denki instructed suddenly.

"Why?"

"Just do it," he chirped. Giving in, you shifted to lay flat on your stomach. Denki slipped his hands under your shirt gently and grazed his fingernails across the warm skin of your back.

Your eyelids finally fell, encasing your blurry eyes. The boy adjusted his position with crackley joints and small grumbles. His palm rubbed your back soothingly, nestling into your shoulder blades, down your spine, around the base of your neck...

...like a neat little massage.

Mixes of rich blues and tinges of purple filled the room, casting a dark but calm effect on you both. Moonlight seeped in through the window and light gusts of air floated over the space.

Eventually you fell asleep... your friend forgotten... the previous day melted and gone...

"Mmm," Denki hummed, lips turning up in a small grin. He brushed a finger over your eyelids, checking to make sure you were out. He then pilled the covers back up and leaned down to plant a light kiss to your ear, as he usually pulled off without you or the others noticing.

He was satisfied.

As carefully as he could, the boy slipped off the bed and went out the door, double checking for other wandering individuals.

_______

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Drunk {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

Summary: Padawan! Qui-Gon comes home drunk and turns into a super subby boyfriend. All he wants is to be babied by his lovie.

Warnings: f! reader, titty loving, drunken Qui-Gon

Knock, knock, knock, came at your door at 3 a.m. You stumble out of bed to flick on your bedside lamp and pulled on your robe to answer the door.

You only crack the door open, unsure if the person on the other side was Ani with a nightmare, Yoda with an urgent message or Obi-Wan with a movie and snacks.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiii," it was Qui-Gon. Your 6'4'' boyfriend was slumped against the door frame to be at your level. He smelled of whiskey and looked like he had been through a wind tunnel on the way back with his shirt untucked and hair askew.

"C'mere Qui, are you okay honey," you say as you pull him into your room and help him balance his hulking frame.

"I missed you," he cooed. He struggled to get out of his clothes so he pleaded for your help with his eyes. His big doe eyes.

He was able to manage his jacket on his own, but you needed to help him with his buttoned shirt and the fly of his trousers. Once he is left in just his shorts he pulls you back to your bed and wants to cuddle.

"Wait, hun, you need some water," you saying pulling away from him to make sure he doesn't have a worse hangover than need be tomorrow. You bring the glass to his lips and slowly tip it so he can control his breathing and intake. He finishes the whole glass and shoots you a toothy grin.

"Good boy," you say caressing his cheek and twisting your body to place the glass on your nightstand when you feel two, warm hands encase around your waist.

You twist back and lay down, inviting him to rest on your chest. He gladly obliges by smushing his face to your tits.

"So squishy, and they fit in my hands," he babbled in a fit of giggles as his glossy eyes devoured your cleavage. You can feel his semi growing on your thigh.

He starts attacking you with sloppy, wet kisses. "I'm so lucky to have you. Unngngh, could I suck you titties, please. I need you," he begged as he rutted against you.

"okay, baby, take all that you need," you whisper to him as he pulls at your deepest desires, feeling the pleasure course through your core.

In passionate moments like this Qui-Gon's stamina usually prevails, but in his partially-drunken state he could sense he was going to cum quickly.

"Can I cum, please, you're making me feel so good," he pants out. You could never say no to your sweet baby boy.

"Yes, be good for me, handsome, let me see how much you can make for me," you said, making him confident and sending him right over the edge.

He groans as his cum spurts out in thick, white streams, ruining his shorts and giving him instant releief.

"You did so well, Qui, hmmm," you say rubbing his head as he comes down from his high. He steady his breathing and peals off his shorts to properly cuddle you.

He becomes dead weight as he uses your breasts as pillows and buries his hands between your thighs for warmth. He would be asleep until noon, but for now, you bask in the feeling of nurturing your drunken boyfriend.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

“i don’t care if it’s red weather warning outside, if you try and warm your icy little feet on me one more time i’m kicking you out.” author's choice!

“i don’t care if it’s red weather warning outside, if you try and warm your icy little feet on me one more time i’m kicking you out.” changing the quote a bit bc apparently 'red weather warning' is a british thing and i think it sounds clunky in this sentence

One of the perks of being small is that it's much easier to stay warm. The blood doesn't have to travel so far to get to all of his extremities, so Orym doesn't feel the effects of these Zephran nights nearly as much as his gangly husband does. This time of year, Will is always wrapped up in socks and scarves and sweaters, grumbling under his breath about living halfway up a mountain. Orym just kisses the frozen tip of his nose and calls him a baby.

But Will's poor circulation becomes Orym's problem when they're snuggled beneath the blankets in their bed, a fire crackling but not doing nearly enough to stave off the chill in the air. As usual, Orym is curled into Will's chest, somewhere between asleep and awake, and he feels cozy and snug. The blankets shift, and Orym wonders if Will's going to get up to go somewhere—until a shock of ice presses into his ankle. He yelps, shoving back. "What the hell?"

Will pouts. "It's cold!"

Orym peeks beneath the covers to see Will's legs contorted at a truly comical angle in an attempt to wriggle his toes between Orym's calves. Unimpressed, Orym threatens, "I don't care if it's freezing outside, if you try and warm your icy little feet on me one more time, I'm kicking you out."

Will's eyebrows raise. "I know you aren't calling my feet little."

"I know you aren't insulting me when you're trying to freeze me to death in my own bed."

"But you're so warm!"

With a roll of his eyes, Orym reaches down to clamp onto his husband's foot. He druidcrafts some heat between his fingers, and Will sighs happily. "You're the best."

"I'm not sleeping like this."

Will's eyes drift shut. "Mmhm."

"I'm serious. Where are your socks?"

Will gives a noncommittal shrug and buries his face into his pillow. Well, two can play at that game. The heat drains from Orym's fingers as he chooses to druidcraft some intense cold instead. Will yanks his foot away with a shriek. "Jerk!"

Orym wrap himself in the duvet, cocooning himself completely away from his affronted husband. "Better go get some socks." Then he burrows down, fully encased in the covers. He grins at Will's annoyed grumbling as he clambers out of bed to dig socks out of his drawer. A minute later, an arm drapes over Orym, pulling him in close. "Come out?"

Orym's never been able to resist his pleading tone. He pokes his head out and cranes to look back. "No more cold feet?"

"Double-socked. I promise."

"Good." Orym settles his head back down on his pillow and lets Will curl around behind him.

He's just about to fall asleep when a frozen nose pressed into the nape of his neck. His whole body jerks. "That's it, we're getting a divorce!"

[bothendsofthequill]

A Timid Ticklee Finds Their Voice

By Both Ends Of The Quill

"Awwwhahahawwwww, I never knew you had such a precious laugh!"

While you've been visited by your guardian angel before, this night is a first for you both. Bristle has taken it upon himself to comfort you through recent insomnia, a full body spoon ensuring a peaceful slumber, especially with those wings of his. Tonight, however, the rabbit arrived earlier, proposing a way to tire you out before you attempt to doze off...

Bristle tickles up and down your sides as his magic pins your arms next to the pillow. "Is it too much?" He asks as gentle yet firm digits tickle around your ribs.

Joyous laughter pours out of you, and you find yourself blushing as you shake your head.

While trying to move closer and nuzzle your neck as his paw traces your opposing side, his ears get in the way. One of them manages to cover your mouth for a second and you try to blow it back at him in spite of the giggles.

"Oh! Sohohorry." Bristle chuckles, bringing himself upright. "Didn't mean to give you a mouthful of fur. Guess I'll have to make it up to you, huh?" He shows off his claws with a snicker.

You gasp, recoiling and pulling on the restraints slightly.

There's a moment of confusion, but the bunny's eyes widen as the implication hits him, his magic immediately letting you go. "O-oh goodness no, buddy, I would never!" Bringing forth his right paw, he unsheathes his claws. Instead of coming to a point, they end in a dull, orb-like tip, with not a hint of sharpness to speak of. "Being used to these makes me forget s-sometimes that claws are not usually pleasant to the touch. I'm so sorry for scaring you." He retains a worried gaze, ears lowering. "I would never hurt you, you know that, right?"

A smile accompanies your nod as you hug Bristle silently, angling yourself downward to nuzzle into his shoulder.

The bunny reciprocates with a relieved and oddly high-pitched chuckle, rubbing his paws up and down your back. "Do you, uh, want me to give these things a try?"

Giving a tight squeeze, you nod even faster, basking in the softness that is this angelic bunny.

A single "claw" drags down your spine, feeling rounded to the touch. It's even smoother than a fingernail, and damn, is it ever tickly!

An eruption of squeals muffled by fluff is music to Bristle's oversized ears, and one look into your tickler's tender gaze elevates what little anxiety you still hold.

The angel moves to your ribs again, gently stroking his claws up and down all of them with a playful smile. "My favourite piano!"

Silliness like this always makes you laugh harder, and his neck fluff is met with your face once more.

Your oh, so precious nuzzles prompt his fingers to dance in between your ribs. "Can't forget the black keys! Always so under-appreciated..." Neglect for sharp and flat notes in musical composition fuels the contempt dripping from Bristle's voice as he utters the latter sentence, despite the fact that he knows nothing about music.*

Every spot he touches from your ribs to your sides elicits bright laughs, squeaks, and squeals, filling your bedroom with blissful song. Minutes feel like seconds when you're being treated to endless giggles galore, but even more so as Bristle digs into your ribs, making you throw your head back in laughter.

"Coochie cooo!" Bristle teases while falling to the bed with you, taking the opportunity to straddle your hips. No time is wasted encasing you in magic once again, this time securing the whole of your arms and legs. His claws skitter down to your belly where they drag slowly and aimlessly. "Does it feel good?"

You can hardly muster a nod for all the jumping and wiggling you're doing; this whole night is turning into a ticklish daydream. The way your hyper-sensitive tummy is being touched and traced to no end is all encompassing, and the tickling isn't even intense yet! Bristle applies a little more pressure to give louder laughs, but it's the grace of every stroke that's melting you so. The fuzzy tickler laughs with you, squeaking as he finds new soft spots to try and teases that make you blush. Yet somehow, through all the hugs and tickles and teases, he always returns to a simple question when trying a new spot or method: "Does that feel good?" Bristle almost always asks. No matter if you're laughing so hard you have tears in your eyes, or there's nothing more than a snicker to be heard, he makes sure. Moreover, you feel him slow down for a moment as he does so, giving you a chance to nod or shake your head. It's all so subtle, but very deliberate. Maybe that's why you were more open to letting Bristle tickle you and take full responsibility for your body like this: he... cares. He loves you.

"Yehehes, that's it! Just like that!" Bristle exclaims, tail wagging like crazy as he smiles your way

Are you doing something different? You can't tell for sure. All you know is that his paws are speeding up and the claws are beginning to scribble across your tummy. You laugh harder and close your eyes, taking in the sensation, but it's not long before everything slows and Bristle simply rubs your belly, chuckling to himself.

"Need a break, cutie?" His voice is higher than it was before, dripping with giggly mischief.

Panting moderately, you nod.

Bristle grins, pointing his finger at each of your arms and drawing circles in the air as the magic releases you. Meanwhile, his other paw reaches for one of the glasses of water on the adjacent nightstand. "Here you go. Drink it all, laughing dehydrates you more than you think.”

"Mmmhm." you agree, sitting up and chugging the whole glass while recalling how he didn't point at your limbs to restrain them in the first place. This cheeky rabbit did the whole abracadabra thing for style points! You suppress a smirk, placing the glass back down.

Bristle giggles, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "You know you completely let go just then, r-right?"

You cock your head. The hell does that mean?

"I-I saw it, heard it too." Bristle grins wider. "There was a moment where you seemed lost in thought before your laugh got even more effortless." His voice just keeps rising in pitch while he looks away shyly, and the grin turns to an overjoyed smile. "You sounded so happy a-a-and overcome with joy a-and..." he covers his cheeks with his paws, wings flapping and ears almost flopping, "...it was so fucking precious!! Eeeheehee!!" He squeals.

You look down at the bed, biting your lip and shyly giggling along. Are you really that adorable? Goodness...

Bristle takes a deep breath, worried he may be overbearing. "S-sorry, buddy." His right paw rubs the opposing arm. "S-seeing my ticklee's cares melt away is the best p-part of my job and-" He stops. "I... haven't told you about that, have I?" Modestly, he tucks his wings back behind him and clears his throat. "M-my fellow angels and I traverse the worlds looking for people in need of help, in any way, for any reason. You know that, right?"

You nod, propping yourself up with your arms and listening intently as your heart rate slowly returns to normal.

"W-well, not all of us specialize in every issue. Some guardian angels focus more on defense of their protectees from physical danger, and some are better at emotional assistance. Even within the latter, though, some angels aid like a therapist would in this world..." Bristle's ears once again lower bashfully, "...and I'm sure you cahahan guess what I lean towards."

"Mmmhm!" You snicker. Judging by the deep conversations shared between you two during those sleepless nights, he was a lovely therapist, but there was never any question as to where Bristle excelled.

"My peers don't cahall me the angel of tickling for nothing!" The rabbit places his paws on your sides and gives a playful squeeze.

You flop back on your bed with a yip, and before you can even process a single giggle, Bristle's magic is putting your arms right back where they belong.

So these are his true colours, huh? It’s not as if he hasn’t been open to you, but fleeting glimpses are all you’ve seen of this overly playful side until now. In hindsight, it must have been hard to withhold given how strong it obviously is. He may be calling you precious, but watching Bristle's heart glow with a love for tickling is simply too cute.

Your shirt is raised with a single claw to let Bristle fawn over your delicate tummy.

Heck, when he swirls that same claw deep into your belly button and you howl with uncontrollable bellows, he's just as helpless to the squeals as you, struggling to keep still as his tail wags and his wings flap and his voice echos almost as loud as yours, "AhahahahwwwwwEEEE!! I knowwwwww, ihihit tickles so muhuhuch, right? That's my good tickle pet, that's my precious bean!" But yet somehow, he always ends with the same sentiment. “Are you hahahaving fun, cuhuhuhutie?" His finger slows, and as you meet his sparkly gaze, you remember something: you were embarrassed by your love of tickling, ashamed even. Simple nods of assurance have proven difficult throughout all of this. But that ticklish feeling in your belly button is stalling, and Bristle's eyes are begging for an answer, and your heart and mind are screaming the truth at him but your mouth. Just. Won't…

"Yehehehes!! Ihihi lohohove ihihihit!!"

The tickling stops, and you can feel your face glowing bright red. Did you say the wrong thing? Did it come out as intended?

One look at the dumb fucking grin on your guardian angel's face answers that question. "Ahaha! Awwww!!" Bristle's claw swirls even faster inside your belly button, with his other paw squeezing your side frantically. "Ihihi'm so glahahad, sweetie!!"

You jump and laugh hard. So, so hard. In fact, this is the most ticklishly vulnerable you've felt in your entire life. Bristle knows each and every way to make you sing, but every method feels so relentlessly loving and caring, down to the last touch laid upon your delicate skin. Even when he is a little rougher, digging into your ribs and sides with reckless abandon, that’s exactly what it doesn't feel like: reckless. Bristle’s paws sure can be unpredictable and chaotic, but never frightening. Those squishy beans and dulled claws couldn’t hurt a ticklee if they tried, but they can, will, and are filling every note falling from your lips with more emotion than a choir of hundreds could convey.

The bunny full-on straddles you now, nuzzling with cuddly intent and planting a few kisses on your forehead as the tickles carry on. "So soft, so sweet, sooooohohohoho precious!!" He squees. "I'll keep you safe forever, my tickle pet~."

Laughter comes so easily when you lower all defenses: straight from the heart, no filter, no shame. Only euphoria. Tears of joy begin to fall down your cheeks, and that's when you feel Bristle easing off. It's sad to feel your heaven come to an end, but wonderful as it is, euphoria is fucking tiring.

Your magic restraints unravel to make way for the bunny’s embrace. You feel him squeeze, but then loosen the hug and rub your back instead. You appreciate him letting you catch your runaway breath.

"I love you." He murmurs.

You hug back with your final squeak of the night. "I-I... I-I lov-"

Bristle backs up and strokes your cheek. "It's okay, you don't have to-"

You place a finger over his mouth with a shake of your head. "I l-l-love you... -t-too." You reply.

With wide eyes and a quivering lip, your guardian angel opens his arms and wings for a somehow even more encompassing hug, which you practically throw yourself into. Soft spoken and a little choked up, he whispers, "I am so proud of you."

From his softness, both inside and out, to his wings and fur and even having claws that are suited for almost nothing aside from giggle giving, Bristle really is the Angel of Tickling. No. He’s your guardian angel, first and foremost, he would correct you. Protector first, lover second, but not too far behind, truthfully. The two are more intertwined than you could have ever imagined...

[Author's Note]

*Thisisntaventfromtheauthorwhoisalsoamusicianwhatareyoutalkingabout?

[69misato69]

entropy (diluc x childe) ✦ 4.7k

archive of our own ✦ twitter ✦ masterlist

childe and diluc are in the same division of the fatui + roommates. they are secretly in love with each other. childe is severely traumatized.

c: trans male childe, unprotected sex, semi-graphic depictions of past sexual abuse, unhealthy relationship with physical intimacy and self-image

top diluc x bottom childe ✦ angst, healing sex, love confessions

minors do not interact please and thank you. enjoy!

Another loud and lively group of drunk cadets stomped down the hall right by Childe with crates of liquor as he took off his shoes at the door and slid the key slowly into the hole.

It was awfully late, meaning that accidentally waking up Diluc would be nothing but a death wish. The walls vibrated softly with the sound of music, powerful enough to travel up almost four floors. 

He took a deep breath and turned the knob to peek inside. The room was silent and tidy except for the bottom bunk that belonged to him. Clothes and accessories he tried on before settling on his current outfit were scattered over his pillows. 

Diluc was facing the wall, so close to the edge that his wavy, red locks were draping off the short rails that encased the mattress. He shifted on the bed as Childe closed the door behind himself.

“Sorry.” he whispered apologetically. 

“I’m awake.”

Diluc maintained his position, laying on his side away from Childe on the top bunk.

Childe let out a relieved exhale, “Oh, something wrong?” 

“Not quite. Why are you back?”

“It’s my room too, isn’t it?” he chuckled. 

“I’m surprised you remember.” 

A snarky comment per usual, though laced with a hint of something unusual. Something that Childe couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn't anger but it wasn't adorned with kindness either. It rarely was, when it came to Diluc. 

“I thought you would enjoy having the room all to yourself.” he nervously ruffled the back of his hair. 

Diluc didn’t answer. The air was getting heavy as tension lingered between them. Childe was vexed, mainly because he was doing his best to stay off the floor for Diluc’s sake.

Not that he would ever scold him about it, but Childe always assumed that his roommate saw him as a bother. 

He was messy and disorganized, much too loud for Diluc’s taste. 

He talked in his sleep which was fine during training season because both of them would be passed out as soon as they came back from class, but they were on vacation. For the first time since they got assigned to a room together after being in the same division for years. 

Childe was content at first, having a 'normal' roommate for once after all the unhinged crap he had put up with in the past, but he had soon realized that in this arrangement, he was the sloppy roommate. 

Which meant that Childe was doing his best to stay out of his hair to the best of his ability during vacation. 

It wasn’t that hard of a task since there were multiple parties on the lower floors every night.

“Why don’t you ever come out?” Childe asked as he took off his shirt, ignoring the sinister remark purposefully. 

“I do, sometimes.”

“But, you always leave so early and you don’t talk to anyone.” 

Diluc turned to lay on his left side, now facing Childe, half-naked and a bit below his eye-level, “It’s not exactly my scene.” 

“Aww, do you get shy, firefly?” Childe teased with a mischievous grin. 

Even in the dark, it was easy to spot Diluc’s dramatic eye-roll—

“Shut up.”

Childe laughed, he put on a flowy, white shirt and a dark pair of shorts, “Come on, get down. I’ll teach you.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re not sleepy anyways!”

Diluc sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes and tying his hair in a low, loose pony-tail. 

“You’ll leave me alone as soon as we’re done?” he glared. 

“Yes, sir.” Childe struck an unserious salute, settling on the couch as Diluc followed his lead and climbed down without further protest. They sat side by side with Childe’s back straightened like he was seated on a bar stool.

“Okay, so just start out with a simple hello.”

“Hello.” Diluc sounded as disinterested as ever, uttering the most boring greeting possible. Though, Childe was far from discouraged. He cleared his throat and motioned with his hand for Diluc to continue.

“Do you… come here often? How come I've never seen you around?”

His heart wasn't in it, not even slightly. Renowned for his expertise in isolating himself from unwanted situations, it was strange that Diluc would prefer this over laying in his cozy bed. 

“Ah, must be different divisions then.”

“Okay.” Diluc turned away. 

Childe gasped, “Okay? No! Ask me if I like it there or some shit like that.”

Diluc shot him a death glare, its effect had mostly waned after months of living together, except for when he would be genuinely pissed off, which he wasn't. 

“This is stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Come on, play along.”

“Ugh, fine.” Diluc’s back met the couch, “Do you like it in your division?”

“Yes, the people are decent, mostly. Some that I would call close friends, even. How about you, got any friends in yours?”

Childe was chirpy and energetic even while acting out a scenario, doing his best to keep the conversation going skilfully after years of practice. 

“No.”

His partner, on the other hand, was ill-tempered enough to get to him. 

“Hmph.”

Childe crossed his arms at his chest. 

“What, hmph?”

“I guess it makes sense that you don't have any friends with that grumpy face.”

He sounded hurt, now facing away from Diluc but still staying put by his side. Diluc reached to hold his wrist. 

“You should ask before touching them.”

“I'm not touching them, I'm touching you.” 

“Then you should ask me, what's not clicking, Ragnvindr?”

Diluc nodded and let go. It had been long since he had experienced anything like this. Most of the time he would keep his mouth shut, and when his words stung, it would always be intentional. 

“May I?” he requested kindly. 

“Sure, if you apologize first.”

“For what?”

A frown formed over Childe's lips, hidden away from Diluc, “For being rude and mean and saying that we aren't friends just now.”

Diluc took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.”

In his own immature ways, Childe really was. He had never once stopped to think that Diluc’s loneliness could be out of a conscious decision. Maybe he chose to be alone, even though Childe simply couldn't fathom anything of the sort for himself. 

He smiled and leaned back, uncrossing his arms to hold Diluc’s wrist instead. 

“It's just about how you present yourself. Not that you're off-putting or anything but, you are a bit intimidating from the outside. But I mean, other than that, looks and all, you dress well. You're smart, funny when you want to be. Anyone would kill to have you, you know?”

Diluc turned to face Childe with a soft gaze as his fingers traced over the veins along his wrist, “Anyone?” 

“Yeah, anyone!” 

Childe didn’t seem to notice how his hand still lingered along his skin. 

Diluc shifted closer towards him as their outer-thighs touched. 

“Let’s keep going.”

Childe felt his heart skip a beat, unable to put his finger on the exact reason. 

He shook it off, refusing to dwell on it further, “That’s what I like to hear.”

Diluc cleared his throat and picked up where they left off.

“Sure. I do have some friends. People from my floor mostly, and my roommate, of course.”

It was time for Childe to return the favor. 

“Oh, must be nice. Mine’s a pain in the ass.”

Diluc couldn’t help but chuckle. He was relieved to see that Childe hadn't taken his remark to heart and instead teased him about it.

“I’m sure he means well.” he assured. 

Childe let out a smug hah, “Well, I sure hope so. Because he’s stuck with me for two more years.” 

He looked so—

Playful and full of life. Even more so than Diluc could recall. 

He suddenly felt an aching in his heart. Gazing at Childe while they bantered, it was such an ordinary occurrence. Something that he never thought would miss, it was no different than having a glass of water or taking a nap. 

Surely, your body would need those but you also wouldn’t miss something as fundamental and even mundane as that.

You wouldn’t look at your roommate with longing in your eyes or lie awake at night thinking where he is and who he’s with. 

Yet, Diluc did. 

He showed up at parties and tried to bear it as random people circled around Childe like vultures. 

Diluc wasn’t sure if he liked it, or whether he liked it for the right reasons. 

Regardless, it wasn’t any of his business. Usually he would stand in the corner and grit his teeth without noticing until his jaw would start to ache. 

And then, he would leave. Hoping that Childe would be okay, hoping that no one would dare to exploit his kindness. 

Hoping was all Diluc could do. He didn’t have the right to pry into anyone’s personal affairs, especially after being so secretive about his own ever since he was recruited, leaving his old self behind. 

Yet he couldn’t get a good night’s sleep ever since vacation had started. Childe was more absent than usual, barely visiting the room for anything other than having a change of clothes or taking a shower. 

Which is why Diluc, even though he seemed reluctant, had agreed to partake in this so-called practice.

It was the most he had seen of Childe in the past few weeks. The first time they had a conversation other than hello and goodbye.

He found himself fearing the rise of the sun. When the new day arrived, everything would go back to normal. He would read on his own on the couch that he now shared with his roommate. 

Childe’s bed would be empty, his coat would no longer be hanging on the rack by the door. 

The room would no longer smell like his shampoo, and Diluc would be all alone. Just like how he had always been. A solitude of his own choosing, having lasted so long that Diluc had never stopped to question what his heart truly desired. 

“Sounds delightful to be stuck with you for two years.” he blurted out. 

Maybe it was standing right in front of him, maybe it always did, veiled by his own obstinacy. Maybe if Diluc would ever set aside the hypocrisy that even he was unaware of, he could actually see that Childe wasn't the immature one of the two. 

Childe’s eyes widened—

“Hey! Wait, you're kind of… That’s actually… good?”

He was oblivious to the fact that Diluc’s issue was far from a lack of experience. 

It’s not that he couldn’t talk to people, not that he couldn’t flirt or pick someone up at a party. It was simply because he didn’t care for it. 

He hummed, “At what point do you think a kiss is in order, since you’re the expert on the topic, apparently?”  

Childe was grateful for the almost complete lack of light so that his rosy cheeks were concealed. A hypothetical question, yet it was enough to make his heart flutter. 

“Well… Hmm… I’m usually not the one to initiate it but… It’s usually adequate, you know? Like you would feel that it’s…” 

Words eluded Childe. 

“The right moment?”

“Yeah... exactly.” 

Diluc would never kiss him. It was okay, Childe didn't need him to. 

“I see.”

Diluc leaned in, slightly. If it wasn’t for the rustling of his shirt, it wouldn’t even be noticeable. But in the dead silence of the night, Childe heard him close the gap between their faces. 

He raised a hand to cup Childe’s cheek.

“Diluc?” 

Even if he couldn’t see it, Diluc could feel the fire lit under his skin. Blood rushed to Childe's face as Diluc realized that he had never held something so precious before. 

Pale skin painted with freckles and scars.

Warmth, a flame burning inside Diluc’s palm. 

“What if I regret it?” he asked. 

The look in Childe’s eyes was expectant yet confused. Mesmerized as the moonlight bounced off of the corners and crevices of Diluc's face, angular shadows dancing along his skin with every cloud passing over the crescent in the sky. 

“I think… never knowing whether you’ll regret it or not is worse.”

Diluc smiled. 

“I avoid parties for personal reasons, but also because...” his thumb brushed against Childe’s cheek, rubbing it with soft motions, “...I don’t really enjoy seeing you like that. You always look a bit...” 

Childe’s heart was sinking all the way down to his stomach, a lump began to form on his throat upon hearing his keen observation. A bit what? Lewd, promiscuous, unlatched? 

"Uncomfortable." 

Oh.

“Do I look uncomfortable now?” he pulled himself together, leaning into Diluc’s palm as emotions he never knew to exist surged into his chest. 

“No. Are you?”

He felt safe with Diluc. Life was cruel enough to teach Childe not to trust anyone the hard way. Maybe it was foolish, reckless to trust a man that hardly ever disclosed anything personal to him. 

But Diluc had never been a stranger to him. 

“No.” he answered confidently.

“Ajax, I think I like you.” 

Diluc stated it as if it was a trivial matter, like telling him to fold his clothes or asking him if he wanted the leftovers. I think I like you, just like that. On a random night just like any other. 

“You think?!” Childe’s squeaked. 

“Yes. What do you think?” Diluc’s hand slid sideways, moving from his cheek to his hair with ginger locks wrapping around his slender fingers. 

Childe had never heard a confession before, an odd one such as this especially. 

Everyone loved him, but nobody liked him. 

“You… like me?” 

He asked as if it could be a joke. Someone, someone like Diluc especially, taking a liking to him was a possibility so out of touch that Childe couldn’t help but question whether he was already in bed, dreaming of the interaction. 

“I said I think, didn’t I?”

Childe pulled away from his touch, “Well… Figure it out.” 

He couldn't allow himself to get caught up in it, it invoked fear deep inside him when Diluc was unsure. If he were to back out, Childe didn’t want to be the one having to live with feelings that would never be reciprocated. 

Love would never fade away from his heart, even when he wanted it to, even when the butterflies in his stomach would turn into sharp daggers piercing his insides. He would bleed forever with no one tending to his wounds. 

Anxiety built up at his abdomen the more Diluc leaned into his face. 

Until, his lips engulfed Childe’s, and the knot suddenly unraveled. It transformed into a bundle of joy and excitement as Diluc slipped his tongue inside his mouth. 

Childe’s heart was banging on his chest like a caged bird, his eyelashes fluttered with each drag of Diluc’s tongue and each time he softly bit down on Childe’s lower lip. 

He was tender, stroking his thighs and holding him down by the waist. Princely and courteous. 

Childe felt like melting into a puddle at being handled so gently. Fingers riddled with scars, trailing their soft ridges along his ribs.

He moved over to Diluc’s lap and straddled his hips as a hand slipped under his shirt. Now no longer over the fabric, Diluc’s fingers traced over the healed scars, the two large ones under his chest, a relatively fresher one that had formed during their last training before vacation, as if to check if it had healed properly. 

It was no wonder why Childe was so surprised at the thought of Diluc liking him when he shadowed his affection and care with his own stubbornness. Too prideful to even ask if he was okay, so consumed by trying to hold himself back that Childe apparently thought himself to be nothing but a nuisance in Diluc’s life. 

But it couldn’t be further from the truth, because Diluc had always kept a watchful eye on him. Checking their fridge to make sure Childe was eating well on days he couldn’t scrape himself off the mattress, looking away because he couldn’t bear to see the grimace on his face as Childe would pull his clothes over poorly patched up wounds. 

He would always make an excuse to clean them and stitch them up properly. 

The disinfectant is expiring, or you'll stain the sheets with blood. 

Childe swiftly rid them both of their clothes. Eager and slightly nervous, he latched onto Diluc’s soft lips every chance he got as their clothes piled up on the floor, all but Diluc’s underwear.

Childe eventually had to pull away, completely breathless and panting over the redhead’s face as he moved his hips back and slipped a hand inside the fabric. 

Though he could feel him harden under his thighs the entire time, touching Diluc so intimately, being chest to chest as his warmth surrounded Childe, it made him tremble with zeal. 

Diluc gazed into his eyes, moaning softly with every flick of his wrist, nimble fingers moving along his length as his thumb pressed into Diluc’s slit and elicited a hiss. 

Childe pressed kisses on his neck and collarbones, intoxicated by the taste. 

What was heaven if not Diluc squirming under him?

He retracted his hand and slid off the last piece of fabric keeping them apart. But just as Diluc’s hand traveled to his groin, Childe lifted his hips and swiftly lined up over his dick, dripping with precum. 

He held Diluc’s hands and guided them to his sides instead as the redhead watched a tad bit cynically. 

Childe spread his legs further and parted his lips using two fingers. There wasn’t much that Diluc could do except watch him take a deep breath and slide down. It was far from a smooth plunge, naturally since he hadn’t given himself any time to adjust. 

Childe handled it like a task. 

Pressure suffocated Diluc’s cock to almost complete numbness as Childe bit down on his bottom lip. 

He was dedicated to take it all in as fast as possible, stalling would never end well based on his experience. 

The affliction brought tears to his eyes, yet he sent them back and held his breath until he finally reached the base. 

“You’re too tense.” Diluc held him close in hopes that Childe would look up at him. It was nothing but a futile attempt. 

“You’re too—”

“Only one of those can be helped.” Diluc interjected. He tilted Childe’s chin.

It was obvious that he was struggling, a painful look had overtaken his face, and every time he forced himself down, Diluc could feel him clench tighter involuntarily. There was no way that Childe could be enjoying this, his insides being ripped apart, ruptured at his own will. 

It didn’t sit right with Diluc, but he also had to consider the possibility that he could have reasons against someone else preparing him.

“Ajax, if you’re uncomfortable with me doing it, you should—”

“It’s not that.” Childe shook his head, “I can take it, no need to—waste time.” 

He couldn’t help but whimper in agony, no matter how much he tried to muffle it.  

Diluc slid him off gently and laid him on his back on the couch.

“It’s not a waste of time.” he brushed the strands of hair soaked with sweat away from Childe’s face. 

His legs were now shut defensively. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed, as if he was ruining it completely. The one shot he had with a person he actually admired, respected and cared for. 

Childe was used to doing everything on his own, yet such a stranger to feeling in control. 

“You don’t have to—” he stopped himself with a pathetic crack of his voice as Diluc sat right where his bent legs ended, not laying a finger on him. 

For once, Childe wasn’t something to be taken or owned, used up and discarded. 

Diluc waited for him patiently, devoid of anger or frustration. He could sit with Childe all night, all day until he was ready to talk, until he was comfortable enough to go on. 

Childe reached for his hand and placed it on his stomach. 

Diluc leaned on his bent legs and rubbed his tummy lovingly. 

The room fell to silence other than Childe's sniffles.

He shed his confidence along with the tears, and it shattered Diluc’s heart to see that deep within, there was nothing but pain and insecurity. Aimless attempts at pleasing Diluc with no regard for his own comfort. 

Pure rage built up inside him at whoever was cruel enough to lead Childe to think that this was okay, that it was acceptable, how it was supposed to be when it was nothing but taking advantage of him heartlessly. 

“So no one ever…” 

“Not really, no.” 

Childe didn’t have to hear the other half of the question. The answer was no to anything but what he had attempted to do a few minutes ago. 

But, Diluc would. He would lay Childe and kiss him all over, toy with him with languid motions on lazy afternoons, fall asleep holding him in a loving hold. Diluc would make love to him the way he deserved, telling him about all that made him precious. 

He was the only thing that made this shit hole bearable. 

Childe guided his hand lower and parted his legs, still bent at the knees as Diluc sat in between. 

He never had the chance to taste vulnerability, to revel in the freedom of allowing yourself to fall weak. To be exposed and laid out, it screamed nothing but danger to him.

Except this time, he didn't mind it as Diluc slid his finger along his quivering, leaking slit, drawing out needy moans with every circle he drew over Childe's swollen clit. 

He spread his legs even wider, allowing him to slip a digit inside while it dug deep and curled against a spot that made him squirm. 

And that's when it dawned on Childe, that he had never been pleased before. Instead of being catered to and taken care of, he was always, simply, used. 

Childe was a fun time, nothing more. He couldn’t be anything more, he never had been for anyone. 

Yet, Diluc pressed a kiss on his thigh and whispered softly, “I love you.” 

This time, sure of himself. 

“I’m—” Childe held back a moan, “—sorry, Diluc.” 

“Don’t be. I don’t need you to say it back.” 

Diluc retracted his hand, with Childe torn between disappointment and grief.

He laid next to his roommate, arms wrapping around him like vines. 

“I want to… But if I do… It will be real, and then—”

Their faces were so close that Childe's tears dampened Diluc's nose as they ran.

“I don’t have anything else to give you.” 

Unstable, unlovable.

This was his only asset, and Childe knew that it would never be enough on its own. Not when it came to him. 

The limits of his body, it wouldn’t mean anything to someone like Diluc. Someone that seeks honesty and intellect, a connection. 

What Childe failed to see was that they already had one that ran deep. 

When had Diluc Ragnvindr ever looked at anything with so much love in his eyes as he did now? 

“Breathe, Ajax.” he cooed, “I don’t need anything from you. This is not a… transaction. I need you to know that, okay?” 

Childe knew it, as a fact, but deep inside his heart he didn’t. If it wasn’t a transaction, why had he been tearing himself to shreds all these years? 

That was love, wasn’t it? When someone wanted you, when they wanted to lay with you skin to skin, it was how to be loved. 

A small price that Childe would gladly pay if it meant allowing some warmth into his heart riddled with cracks and bruises. 

A temporary vessel rented and emptied in hopes that maybe, one day, the numbness would free his soul.  

“You’re perfect the way you are.” 

Diluc held him close, one hand wrapped around his waist and the other carding through his hair. 

His lips bloomed every freckle splattered on Childe’s face as tears streamed down his chin. 

If it was love, truly, why had everyone sat idly by as he burned himself to ashes for years? Why hadn't anyone ever cared for his trembling hips and aching body?

Why hadn’t anyone ever held Childe like this before? Kissing him gently and whispering words of comfort in his ear. 

It was odd, missing something he never even had in the first place. It felt strangely familiar, as if Diluc had always held him like this. 

“Can you… try again?” Childe asked hesitantly. 

He needed to know how it would feel, his body intertwined with someone else’s without sorrow suffocating his mind. 

Childe was tired of mourning parts of himself that would never return. 

Diluc sat up and parted his legs to settle in between them. His hands ran along Childe’s thighs, brushing against his clit and stroking his hips until he was leaking with lust again. 

Diluc pressed kisses on his legs with Childe growing needy under his grasp. 

And eventually, as his patience waned, Diluc positioned himself on top and slid in with utmost care. 

Cautious not to sever anything, with gentle thrusts and coos, soothing strokes along his chest, words of praise dripping from his lips.

Childe was relaxed to his movements unlike before, he sank down on the couch with each thrust as Diluc held him in place. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, slightly concerned. 

Childe didn’t know what he wanted, how he liked it, what he enjoyed. Even when he was alone, day by day it was becoming harder for him to touch himself as well. 

“A bit slower.” he requested at last, and Diluc adjusted his hips accordingly. 

Slower, deeper thrusts so that Childe would feel his every move, every vein and curve along his dick as he brushed against his wall. 

It seemed to be working wonders, judging by the way Childe twitched and moaned blissfully. 

He cupped Diluc’s face and pulled him lower, claiming his hips in hunger and desperation. 

Their hearts raced against each other, syncing their rhythm and meeting at where their rib cages kissed. 

Diluc slipped one hand between their bodies to lap over Childe’s clit as he picked up the pace slightly. 

Childe pulled away and raised himself on his elbows, faces still so close that Diluc’s warm breath hovered over him still. 

He felt his lower body hollow out, clenching around Diluc. But right as he felt the beginning of a sweet and intense release, the haze was disrupted by a knock on the door. 

“We’re going up to the roof. You coming, Ajax?”

Oh, he was coming alright. 

“Go without me.” Childe hissed, vision going completely blank momentarily. 

“You sure?”

Diluc held his limp body in his arms, struggling to hold back his own orgasm with the way Childe was so warm and tight around him. 

“Y—yeah. Another night.”

“Alright, man. Suit yourself.”

Footsteps grew fainter as the group made their way down the hallway. 

Childe’s back met the couch once again, now fully relaxed, loose and fluid. 

“I should—” Diluc attempted to pull out but Childe drew him back in by his waist. 

“It’s okay, go ahead.” he smiled.

Diluc had seen many different types of smiles on Childe’s face before. 

A nervous one that veiled his insecurities and an unhinged, unforgiving one that only surfaced during combat. 

A fake one for receiving compliments he was convinced that he didn’t deserve. 

But this one, with his pupils bright as the stars above them, the outer corners of his eyes crinkled with rapture. 

This was the most genuine expression Diluc had ever seen on his face. 

For once, not plastered on forcefully, his lips were curved upward with true happiness. 

It felt like a precious trinket from the distant past, like a tea set you would only take out for special occasions.

Except it was forgotten. Left to dust away for too long that even Childe didn’t know he still had it in him.

Adoration engulfed Diluc’s heart as he made a promise to protect that smile at any cost, as long as he would live and breathe. 

[indigolover97]

We’re Dripping In It

Chapter 2: Standing Next to You

Jungkook groaned as a light beam hit his face, he buried his face into the pillow under him and took a long whiff of the laundry detergent Taehyung liked to use. He blinked and looked around the room in confusion, not remembering being moved last night from the studio. He gazed around at the guest room in Yoongi and Taehyung’s penthouse, taking note of the empty spaces from when he used to live in this room.

He had expected Taehyung to have set up his art studio in here, like he said he would, but the room still looked as empty as when he moved out. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as the smells of food drifted through the crack in the door. He could hear movement from inside the kitchen and moved off the bed to see who was awake.

He turned the corner of the hallway and saw Yoongi hard at work at the stove. Jungkook’s unruly hair smacked him in the face as he went to sit at the breakfast counter that looked into the kitchen.

“Morning, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi greeted, placing a hot cup of coffee in front of him.

“Thank you, hyung.” Jungkook murmured after a sip, clearing his throat from the roughness of sleep.

Yoongi shrugged, “Think nothing of it, our guest room is always open to you.”

He turned back to the stove and started setting food onto three plates when Taehyung wanders in, he drowsily places a kiss on Yoongi’s forehead before reaching for the steaming cup of tea his husband hands him.

“Do you have class today, Kookie?” Taehyung asks, his voice like gravel as he sips his steaming mug. The two of them sit on either side of Jungkook as Yoongi sets their plates of food down on the counter. They start eating as Jungkook pulls out his phone to look at his schedule.

“I just have a Math class at one o’clock, then its torture time with Hobi-hyung.”

Yoongi and Taehyung both chuckle at Jungkook’s groan of pain at the very idea of more hours in the studio with his dance mentor.

“I can drive you to class,” Taehyung offers, tossing Jungkook’s protests aside. “I have an errand to run on that side of town anyway, I won’t be able to pick you up after class but I can at least give you a ride there.”

“Thanks hyung, I appreciate it.” Jungkook murmurs, smiling widely when Taehyung simply ruffles his hair affectionately before continuing to devour his food.

Taehyung doesn’t let Jungkook leave the apartment without insisting that his sweaty pants and shirt need to be put through a wash. And that he will absolutely not be going to class smelling like a gym.

Jungkook finds himself being forced into a pair of dark blue ripped jeans and a semi-fitting white T-shirt, nothing like the black baggy clothes he usually wears. He slips the leather jacket over his shoulders as they head out the door. His clunky boots hitting the pavement with surety now that its warmth encases him.

Jungkook tries not to shrink at the double glances he gets as he makes his way across campus, Taehyung really had to take their flashiest red convertible to drop him off at the entrance. And his yell of ‘Have a good day at school, Kookie baby!’ did not help matters at all. Thankfully he wasn’t approached by anyone and Jimin wasn’t at the school to tease him, but it was one of the more embarrassing moments he’s had in a while.

As he makes his way back to the studio after class. He unconsciously begins to hum his song as he walks. Completely absorbed by going through the choreography in his head that he almost steps into a busy street, only to be yanked back by a swift hand.

“Why do I always seem to find you nearly getting in trouble, little one?” A chuckle sounds from a very familiar source.

“I seem to be a magnet for it,” Jungkook grumbles, making the man chuckle even more. “Thanks for the rescue, I don’t think even being plastered across the pavement would’ve saved me from my hyung’s wrath for being late for dance practice. So, you’ve really saved me twice today.”

“You dance?” The man quirks an eyebrow at him, slowly releasing the grip he had on Jungkook’s wrist.

Jungkook nods with a slight shrug, “It’s a fun hobby.”

“An interesting hobby, I’d say. Any good?”

“I’m not sure what would classify as good when it comes to dancing,” Jungkook says, trying to be diplomatic, but there’s a look in the mystery man’s eyes that makes him blurt out. “If you want to see for yourself, I’m performing at D-Town this Saturday at 12 o’clock. Do you know the club?”

A smirk forms on the man’s face, amusement colors his tone. “I’ve heard of it, Saturday you say.” He hums at Jungkook’s confirming nod. “I think I can make that, if you promise me a drink after your performance. I’ll give you my honest review then.”

Jungkook blushes and decides to be a bit cheeky, “I’ll agree to a drink, if I can get a name for the one buying it.”

The cheekiness seems to have paid off, the man bursts out into a delighted laughter, his dimples coming out in full force and his eyes crinkling into craters. Jungkook can’t help but smile at the man’s delight.

“You can call me Namjoon,” he answers, still smiling. “And I’ll get your name on Saturday.”

“Looking forward to it, Namjoon-ssi.” Jungkook says with a matching smile.

“Just Namjoon, little one.” He corrects before turning to walk down the street. Jungkook watches his retreating back until he completely disappears into the crowd. With a skip in his step he continues his way to the studio, more determined than ever to get the choreo perfect for Saturday night.

Jungkook spends the whole evening driving himself hard through practice and if Hobi is at all surprised by his sudden burst of energy, he doesn’t show it. He simply drives them harder to get it just right and praises them when they nail it. By the end of the night they’ve begun incorporating Jungkook actually singing the song and Hobi concludes the practice very pleased with their results.

“I believe after tomorrow you will be ready for that stage,” He tells Jungkook confidently, patting him on the shoulder as they part ways at the door.

Jungkook, after much persuading, stays with Taehyung and Yoongi again but only after stopping by his apartment for some spare clothes. He spends the whole of Friday meticulously singing his lyrics until he feels he knows them backwards and forwards. The last run of the choreo they do for the day is on the actual stage in D-Town, as Friday is their day off. Hobi takes full advantage of the empty space.

“It feels different on the stage as well,” He explains as they get themselves into formation. “You need to get a feel for it before performing to a live audience.”

Hobi is right, there is a whole different feeling to being on the stage, even if they are looking out to an empty bar and dance floor. Jungkook has never felt anything so electric as he performs, an actual mic in his hands as he sings through the dance. The sound of clapping resounds across the room as they end the practice run.

“Brava! Brava!” Taehyung yells as he runs across the dance floor. “You’re gonna kill them tomorrow, Kookie!”

Jungkook laughs as Taehyung bounds onto the stage and pulls him into a tight hug, he pretends to whine about being all sweaty as he clutches his hyung right back. He spies Yoongi walking across the dance floor with lazy steps and a gummy smile on his lips as he looks up at them.

“I look forward to seeing the real deal tomorrow night, Jungkook-ah.” He says, holding out a hand for the pair to jump down from the stage. He pats Jungkook's shoulder as they walk towards the private elevator. Jungkook waves to his dancers before following his hyungs onto it, leaning against the railing as they rise up to the penthouse.

“Go shower before dinner, Kook, you can sleep after we’ve fed you.” Taehyung snickers as he drags Jungkook out of the elevator and pushes him into the spare bathroom.

Jungkook falls into the guest bed with wet, fluffy hair and a belly full of food, feeling more amped up for tomorrow night than ever before.

Taehyung insists on dressing Jungkook himself on the big day, he bats away any of Jungkook’s feeble protests.

“I won’t hear it Kookie, you need to look banger tonight.” He says, tossing clothes down on his and Yoongi’s bed as he goes through his closet. He makes Jungkook try on various pairs of pants and shirt combos until he’s satisfied. Somehow it comes out to be a more simple outfit than he was expecting.

“You don’t need to be too flashy, your talent is what’s going to shine the brightest tonight.” Taehyung says over his shoulder as they gaze into the mirror together.

He has Jungkook in a black pair of dress pants and a black belt that cinches his small waist. The boots he wears almost disappear into the pants, but are practical for all the dancing he’s about to do. Then there’s the shirt, it’s simple and white but cut into a low V that nearly parts completely between his pecs. The short sleeves make his sleeve of tattoos on his right arm more prominent.

“Simple is better,” Taehyung states firmly, handing Jungkook some dangly earrings to put in his various piercings. “And you make simple look smoking hot.”

“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook says with a smile, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he steps out of the room.

The hours tick by so slowly that Jungkook fears he’ll tear a hole in the hardwood floors of Taehyung and Yoongi’s apartment with his pacing. It’s not until Hobi comes up to fetch him and he’s standing behind the curtain of the stage, surrounded by his dancers and hearing the sounds of the crowd, that he begins to feel calmer.

He takes a deep breath, vaguely hears Hobi give some word of encouragement and pats him on the shoulder, before it's time to go out. And the music starts. And everything fades in the background.

“Play me slow, push up on this funk and give me miracles,” Jungkook sings into the mic, staring out into the crowd on the dance floor.

Jungkook feeds off the energy of the crowd, it’s nothing and everything like they’ve practiced. Every movement is fluid and seamless. Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat as he sings and his eyes, they can’t help but meet another pair of dark ones from across the club. It doesn’t distract him, no, it fuels him through the song to have those eyes on him.

The moment where he sets down his mic for the choreography he can almost feel the look he gives the crowd ‘you see how I dance with the mic?’ he seems to say ‘now see me without it’. Then he’s off and the crowd goes absolutely wild.

“Standing next to you,” Jungkook sings after picking up the mic, ending the song with a bow to the screaming crowd. There’s a pause to take in the applause then the stage goes dark and Jungkook follows his dancers off the stage.

Taehyung nearly tackles him as he comes around the curtain, Jungkook laughs as his hyung bounces them around for a moment before helping him get loose from the wires in his ears. Hobi pats his shoulder before going to each of the dancers to give his congratulations to them. Jungkook listens to Taehyung ramble on about how well he did while he cleans off the sweat from his face, but all he can think about is the pair of dark eyes that followed him throughout the song. Yoongi pulls him aside just before he’s about to walk out into the club.

“Someone is waiting for you in the VIP section, said his name is Namjoon.” Yoongi whispers to him, his eyes glittering with something that Jungkook doesn’t understand. Yoongi gives Jungkook an approving nod, wiping the confused expression on his face.

“Thanks hyung, for everything tonight.” Jungkook breaths, pulling the older man into a quick hug before darting towards the VIP section that sits on the second story overlooking the stage and dance floor.

The bouncer at the front nods to Jungkook and opens the door for him. The glass encased room is practically empty as he steps in and the sounds of the club below are muffled when the door closes. Jungkook spots Namjoon leaning against the bar that looks down over the stage. Their eyes meet across the room and Jungkook feels himself being drawn in until he’s standing next to him.

“When you said you danced,” Namjoon greets with a sly smile as Jungkook slides into the seat. “I wasn’t quite expecting that. I’m very impressed, little one.”

“Enough to buy me that drink?” Jungkook asks with a smirk.

“Of course,” Namjoon laughs as he calls the bartender over. “And to get your name.”

“Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook.” He answers, then gives his order to the bartender and takes a sip of it before setting it down on the bar.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon says his name slowly, like he’s tasting it on his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Likewise, Namjoon.” He replies with a smile, sliding his hand into Namjoon’s offered one to shake. Their hands linger for a moment before they settle into the bar booths and sip on their drinks.

“So other than dancing, what are your other ‘hobbies’ as you call them.” Namjoon asks, a slow, easy smile on his face.

Jungkook snickers, “What would you call it then?”

“Raw untapped talent.” Namjoon says at once, smiling at Jungkook’s wide eyes. “I call it like I see it and I so rarely see a talent like yours. And you said it’s your first performance?”

Jungkook nods and blushes at Namjoon’s disbelieving scoff. “It’s true, this was my first time ever being on a stage. In front of a crowd. It’s the first song I’ve ever written myself, then performed it.”

“Song writer. Singer. Dancer. Is there anything you can’t do?” Namjoon asks incredulously, probably sarcastically, but Jungkook pretends to ponder it for a moment.

“I don’t know how to fly a plane, or play the violin.” He says with wide, blinking eyes and a sly smile. Namjoon looks utterly endeared by it.

“Probably couldn’t do brain surgery either, now that I think about it.” Jungkook adds as an afterthought, making Namjoon laugh, Jungkook joins him with a low snicker.

“You are truly something else, Jungkook.” He says, gazing at him with deep adoration. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in years.”

“Ah you’re welcome,” Jungkook says with a small smile, glad to have brought some joy into the man’s life.

They spend the next few hours of the night and early morning just talking. Jungkook finds Namjoon to be an interesting person to talk to. And he’s shocked to find how much they have in common regarding art and music tastes. Jungkook has never met someone that he’s so easily fallen into conversation with.

By the time closing hours have approached, they’ve gravitated to sit on one of the long couches that line the VIP room and have been debating animatedly about the benefits of synthetic grass.

“Even if it were to help the environment and water intake of the city. You are still ripping up the earth and soil to put down plastic grass that serves no purpose, beyond not consuming water.” Jungkook protests passionately as he gestures with his hands at Namjoon.

“We’re in the middle of drought, what would your solution be to lower the amount of water Seoul consumes?” Namjoon asks, leaning his head into his hand on the ledge of the couch as he looks at Jungkook.

“I would first see where the water consumption is at its greatest and find a way to limit that first. Before trying to put synthetic grass in everybody's yard.” Jungkook huffs, rolling his eyes when Namjoon laughs but is unable to keep the smile off his face for long.

“Do you have a guess as to where the most consumption would be?” Namjoon asks, his eyes crinkling like half moons as he smiles.

“If I had to give a random guess it would have to be bath houses.” Jungkook says with a nod. “Public bath houses would have to consume a ton of water for their customers. To ensure proper hygiene they would, not only, have to clean their facilities regularly but also have clean water inside the tubs. I’m sure some do a good job of recycling and filtering their water supplies but that wouldn’t account for all of them.”

Namjoon hums in agreement, “And what would your solution to that be?”

Jungkook hums in thought, “In an ideal world? A central piping system for public bath houses that filters and recycles the water across Seoul. The amount of water needed for, let’s say, a hundred bath houses is calculated. Then stored in a facility that pumps, filters, and recycles that water for all of them. Any unusable water can be transported to farms, as long as it’s been tested to be safe to return to the soil.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Jungkook waves his hand in a general direction, “We do have an ocean you know, it can return to there to be purified by natural causes. There should probably be a study on the lasting effects of adding dirty bath water to the oceans, though.”

Namjoon chuckles, bringing Jungkook out of his rambling thoughts, “Your mind is a very interesting place, little one. I’m glad I’m getting a chance to get to know it.”

Jungkook desperately wanted to counter his words with something witty or clever but a wide yawn broke across his face before any words could form on his tongue. Namjoon chuckled and ran a gentle hand through Jungkook’s ever growing dark hair.

“Tired, little one?” He smiled at Jungkook’s sleepy, happy hum of reply as his eyes fluttered closed under his hand. “Let’s get you to bed then, hmm.”

“I’m staying with hyung and Tae, they live upstairs.” Jungkook murmured sleepily, as Namjoon helped him to his feet. He must have been more tired than he thought, because Namjoon caught him around the waist before he toppled over from standing.

“I’ll take you up to them then,” Namjoon said easily and waited for Jungkook’s hum of agreement before sweeping him up into his arms.

Jungkook is barely aware of leaning his head against Namjoon’s neck. Or of the steps he takes inside the empty club towards the elevators. Or when they arrived inside Yoongi and Taehyung’s apartment. There is a gentle murmur of voices that causes him to snuggle deeper into the warmth that encases him, then he’s being moved again and feels himself being lowered onto a soft surface.

A hand brushed through his hair, Jungkook leans into the gentle touch.

“I’ll see you again soon, little one.” A gentle voice whispers above him, then he falls asleep.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Seat 21 - Chapter 6

A/N: So so sorry for the long wait on this one!! Shit hit the fan and I forgot to update lmao. Going to mass update soon!

“Do not fear, students,” A voice booms. The discomfort it usually brings me is overrun by relief.

“I am here.” All Might zips toward us, seemingly flying inbetween villains on the way.

Everyone he’s touched is down. 

I glance up at Aizawa sensei, his eyes losing their glow. 

Though suddenly, I’m looking down at him instead.

My shoulder clashes against someone else, the warmth of their skin startling me. Sopping wet cloth sticks against my tail. Frantically, I search for everyone; only to find them encased by the same large suit-clad arms as myself.

All might. 

Wind rushes over us, and I feel my fins start to shrivel away. 

Gently, we meet the reddish cement. 

“Everybody head back to the entrance; and take Aizawa sensei. He hasn’t got much time.” The number one hero instructs, barely sparing us a glance. All I can do in response is nod.

My newly returned legs tremble as I pull them underneath me.

The pavement is rough and hard, my shoes long gone in the struggle. By the time I’m up, there is little I can do to help except follow my fellow students up the staircase.

The mutters from my left are near incoherent, but concerning nonetheless. Words like limits, trouble, time, are all I can pick up.

“Tsuyu, Hinode?” He speaks up.

“Yes Midoriya?” Tsuyu croaks.

“I need you two to carry Aizawa sensei.” His voice is warbling, eyes distant. 

I’m scared. I know whatever he intends to do, it will be dangerous.

But I cannot help, not without hindering him.

I slide an arm under Aizawa sensei’s arm; Midoriya takes off. Heading directly back into battle.

Careful. I think. Be safe, be careful.

Mineta and Tsu scream after him to no avail.

A commotion begins from the scene and my head snaps. Three more classmates.

The hotheaded Bakugou, the cheery Kirishima and the reserved Todoroki.

Forcing myself to turn back, I trudge up the stairs; Aizawa’s weight heavy against me.

From there; everything is a blur.

By the time we get to the top, everyone is hopeful. All Might is winning. 

Thirteen is in as good a shape as Aizawa is.

My damp skirt does little to clean the blood off of my sensei’s face. 

Cheers; All Might won.

Iida bursts through the door - our teachers in tow.

The villains warp away.

Aizawa sensei is rushed to hospital, I stay kneeling next to where he was laying.

We take the buses back to U.A.

A policewoman with a feline head takes my statement.

I walk home; head spinning with worry.

-

That night, dreams plague me. 

Blood running down Aizawa sensei’s face.

Midoriya starting to drown.

Blue and red and blue and red and blue and red and blue and red and blue-

I wake up with a soaked pillow and scales on my cheeks.

It takes what feels like years to fall asleep, but seconds to wake back up. My phone trills relentlessly.

A quick swipe, and the video call is answered.

Warm honey oozes out of me.

Hi Jun. I sign.

“Aneesan! I just saw the news! Are you okay? Was it cool? Did you sing?” Green eyes shine as my brother babbles on.

I’m fine, and it was I start, before Jun whines.

“Aneeesan, Mama’s at work, plus its a phone call. Talk to me!” 

I am talking. I grin cheekily. Another exasperated groan.

“Yes, it was very exciting,” I finish, all the leftover tension fading. His eyes shimmer like stars.

“Did you sing?” He asks again. My throat burns.

“I didn’t have a choice, Jun.” I explain.

“Whoaaa!” The boy awes, “I bet you were so cool.”

Laughter bubbles in my chest, floating out of my mouth. I can barely see his green stars, Jun smiles so big.

His smile drops, hair flopping to the side.

“What was that?” He asks, looking behind me. I hum, turning my head.

Then again, a patient rapping at the door.

“I’ll call you back Aneechan, bye!” Jun drawls, the chirpy dial cutting him off.

Wrapping a stray blanket around me, I scurry to the door. Considering yesterday, the peephole seems like a good idea.

Bright chartreuse stares right back at me.

“There she is!” A cheer from the other side of the door. Though the relaxed hair is different, its hard not to recognise those pointy yellow glasses.

Unlocking the door, I swing it opened.

Mic sensei? My fingers spell swiftly.

“The one and only, kiddo!” My teachers grin is overly wide, and comfortingly normal.

“Sho- uh, Aizawa sensei is awake now, he said you were pretty worried about him yesterday. Thought I’d come check in!” His smile softens, giving me a once over.

“Not alot of sleep, huh?” Kind eyes evaluate my face, quirking an eyebrow. I shake my head.

Is Aizawa sensei okay? I ask; images still flashing through my mind.

“Nothing he can’t handle, he’ll be good as new in no time!” A gentle hand on my shoulder, but when I look up; Mic sensei’s eyes are looking right through me.

“Your ‘rents home kiddo?” Again, I shake my head.

“They gone out for the day?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing.

No. I’m here for school, my mama and brother live on the coast. I explain.

“On your own?” Surprise is evident in his tone, but I shrug it off. 

“Not even a cat?” Surprise becomes shock, and I shake my head. 

“That’s,” Mic sensei pauses. “Not ideal, kiddo.” 

All I have to offer is another shrug. 

I manage.

Blond brows stay knitted together. 

“Hey kid? I need to make a few calls, mind letting your sensei in?” He asks.

I weigh everything up, ultimately deciding on letting him in. 

Mic sensei leads himself in, sitting at the kitchen table; diligently tapping away at his phone.

“You keep doing whatever you were doing kid, I won’t be long.” He waves offhandedly.

Awkwardly, I shuffle around the tiny kitchen - making a bowl of cereal to bring back to bed.

Junkun: Who was it?

Aneesan: One of my senseis.

Junkun: :0

Junkun: Is it a hero??

Junkun: Who is it???

Aneesan: Present Mic sensei

Junkun: THE Present Mic????

Aneesan: Yes, he’s just checking in on students today.

When I go back to the kitchen, Mic sensei is muttering into his phone.

“-just a kid,” followed by some grainy mumbles from the other side. I quickly hurry back to my room.

As I’m replacing my blanket for a hoodie, I hear an outburst from the kitchen.

“-have a duty of care! It’s not safe!” A chair scrapes, and I jerk back.

Not long after, a knock on my bedroom door.

“Hey kiddo, I’ve got some other errands to run, but I’ll come by and check in again later, kay?” Messy strands fall from his bun.

Ok. 

-

MASTERLIST

[dolcinos]

Can we hear some of your most dark and morbid wg fantasies/likes pls? Or literally anything immobility related? Your death feederism and fatpad stuff is so good!! Had me going insane…

absolutely!!! paragraph-length scenarios incoming… i’ll be neutral but throw in some alfred-specific ones at the end since he’s my (not so) little plaything.

ALSO THANK YOU FOR GOING INSANE OVER THE FAT PAD STUFF HEHE. i’m actually working on a teeny little drabble expanding on my previous post about it which is coming soon >:)

darker WG/obesity stuff below ↓

my preamble to this is i’ve been getting into more extreme WG and death feederism stuff kinda recently tbh (last few months). i’m happy you like it 💛💛 until now i’d say my general cap for feederism stuff was around 400 pound mark but now i’m really getting into the bigger dudes and immobility, blob, etc.

all that to say, things are still stewing in my brain rn and i hope these scenarios are up to par :’)

first off. fupa on the brain. or rather fat pads. a guy so blobby and obese that his puffy fat-pad could be mistaken for a stray belly roll. you can pinch a few good, thick inches of it in your fingers. great for nibbling on! maybe his fat pad is so deep that his dick is completely engulfed, cushioned between swelling fat, so far down that you can’t even reach his micropeen to stroke it… you’ve gotta rub your big boy’s tender, flabby fat pillow to get him off, hoping he feels the rough vibrations and flesh brushing against his tiny dick underneath all that blubber (and you can never do it for long because it’s exhausting to hold up all his belly fat with one hand!)

next: a big boy with diabetes brought on from his morbid obesity and very poor eating habits. he’s completely immobile, and you often have to massage his swelled legs (which are usually numb) and make sure you withhold sugar from him when you need to. it’s a huge turn on for you to see him whine when you limit his intake, knowing there’s nothing he can do about it. you have to prick his fat butterstick fingers to take his blood sugar, and inject insulin for him since he can’t reach~

lastly and maybe the darkest, is a guy that’s a humongous blob of blubber. close to 1,000 pounds. a mountain of flesh and flab sitting atop a king-sized bed, unable to move much besides his eyes, head, and hands. you pamper him and feed him every meal, always wash him up. one day you have a falling out and break up, and sourly leave him— maybe even maliciously, cruelly leave, because you were his caretaker. you know he’ll be helpless alone. but you’re angry and don’t mind being awful. the realization that you left for good will dawn on him as he lays there, too fat to reach for his phone and call for help, too heavy to get up. he hasn’t felt his legs in a year and he doubts his swollen feet could even hold his weight. he thinks, bitterly, that maybe he’ll lose some weight this way, the hard way, through starvation. but he also knows he’ll need water eventually. that he’ll be sitting in his own piss and shit for days or months or years. that he’ll rot in this bed, encased in fat.

ALFRED-SPECIFIC GOODNESS:

i often think about rusame cold war stuff, pretty sure i’ve mentioned it very briefly. this ventures a bit into ‘unrealistic’ weight gain if done over a short period. alfred capturing ivan as a POW for a while a force feeding him that good ol’ american fast food is always a must for me (i think i’ll honestly write that as a fic), but the reverse is just as intriguing. ivan catches alfred spying and chains him up in a gulag somewhere, a very big cell where ivan feeds him those burgers he loves so much. revenge against capitalism… have alfred balloon up into immobility so he couldn’t even escape if he tried! ivan personally shoves double-decker, meaty, greasy cheeseburgers down alfred’s throat every day until he’s mindless and drooling, just wanting more and more food to sate his massive body.

death feederism alfred when he stuffs himself too much. after a feeding session with arthur, alfred still finds himself hungry and has arthur leave leftovers from last night at his chair. he’s a huge, immobile blob, reliant solely on arthur…who begrudgingly listens, but warns him not to eat too much more. arthur goes to sleep while alfred is still lazily in front of the tv, chowing down on fried chicken wings, a patty melt or two, an extra large soda, jumbo fries, deep dish pizza— when, suddenly, a heart attack strikes, and his obese body gives out ;)

[bipedalseal]

29, 37, 39?

29 - What are your favorite family traditions?

We don't actually have a lot. Haha. Neither of my parents are creatures of habit. But for all my birthdays every we go out to a mall, eat, and go shopping, and usually they buy me something else too. My favorite thing they got me was this obscure poetry book and a knitting belt.

I also have a lot of relatives who work abroad and come home for the holidays, and they usually bring a lot of chocolate with them. Huehue.

37 - What are some positive things that people have said about you?

That I'm great at giving compliments. It's something that I actually practiced so I'm flattered every time someone says so.

I've also been told that I'm a speedy reader, but you kind of expect that when you make reading your identity for most of your childhood.

My therapist said I have great executive functioning too. As in, I'm great at discerning stuff? This was when I told her that I usually logic my way into resisting impulsive urges. Funny because I haven't been a functioning adult until lately, but I was flattered nonetheless.

39 - Where do you feel most at home? What’s needed for maximum comfort or coziness?

Anytime with late afternoon sunlight is my favorite. Location-wise, it's at my close friend's house, but only in short bursts, because I need to be encased in several layers of plushies and pillows and blankets to really feel safe and I can't bring all of that to their house.

Thanks for the questions, nonnie!

[quartzwriting]

Freezing Hands

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Reader (gn/no specific pronouns) (no y/n)

Description: The sanctum has been taken over by snow again, and on Christmas eve...but Stephen tries to keep you warm.

Warnings: non just fluffy Stephen

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: Merry Christmas! And thank you for all the love recently for my Stephen fics, here's another one as your gift! Contains ZERO NWH spoilers. Might go back and edit this one as well.

Part of my DEC 2021 HOLIDAY MASTERLIST

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

“You gotta be kidding me...”

You stood in the doorway of your and Stephen’s shared bedroom. You had really hoped that it would not be in here too. But alas, you stared at the snow and ice that covered every corner and wall, the slippery floor of the hardwood, and the frost that encased the furniture.

All you wanted after a long day of cleaning up snow and managing haywire portals was to sleep in a warm and cozy bed. But the blankets and pillows were sparkling with frost. And it was freezing in the room like the rest of the Sanctum when a portal basically exploded this morning, your huff of annoyance coming out as a cloud in front of you. This was the last thing you needed on a day like this.

“This is the worst,” you mumbled, stepping in and almost slipping on a patch of black ice.

Stephen walked in right behind you, making his way over to the fireplace on the other end of the room to light it with a simple hand gesture. 

“Why did this have to happen on Christmas eve?” you were so annoyed at this point that your desire for sleep made you just want to collapse on the cold sheets and pass out. “I’m so tired...”

“So much for our days off this year,” Stephen remarked, sounding annoyed himself.

“I was really hoping we would come up to a warm-ish bedroom at least.” You grumbled as you rummaged in the closet for the extra comforters and blankets to replace the frozen ones. You used magic to discard the cold ones and replace them with the fresh ones, the temptation to crawl right in growing.

“Hopefully it will warm up in here soon,” Stephen said as he watched you strip off your soggy gloves and rubbed your hands together. “Come here.”

You did, boots crunching in the ice and snow, and settling yourself in a hug against him next to the fire. You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his hoodie slightly cold to the touch. The cloak on his back followed his arms to wrap around you, encasing you in a warm embrace.

“Let’s warm up here first, then we’ll head to bed.”

You hummed in agreement and nodded, still against his chest trying to stay warm. Your hands found themselves reaching around to find warmth under his puffy coat. Stephen’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. He kissed your forehead.

Being in his arms and being in the growing warmth of the fire was easing your stress a little. 

The room had warmed up a little so the two of you crawled into bed, still wearing a few layers. Stephen made sure that you were cozy, tucking in the sides of the blankets to block out the cold. He clung to you, being a little more cuddly than he usually is. You giggled when he nuzzled his face into your neck and squirmed when he ran his hands down your torso and back up your shirt.

“Stephen, you hands are freezing!”

They trembled from the combination of their scarred damage and suffering from the cold himself. But they found refuge in the warmth under your clothes. It was playful torture, you trying to get away from the cold while he poked fun at you while holding you.

He laughed beautifully, only to snuggle into you further.

“They’ll warm up soon, so will you.”

But you did not sleep well. You had woken up throughout the night, suffering from the cold. Despite the blanket layers, being submerged inside one of his shirts, and his body warmth making you feel emotionally safe, you were in distress. 

In the mid darkness of Christmas morning, you were awake yet again. You were too cold again, trying to hide your face from the chilly air by hiding under the covers. Your body shivered, feeling the low temperature deep in your bones. 

Stephen was spooning you from behind. He had not let go of you the entire night. For most of the time he was dead asleep, not aware of your constant struggle that was going on. But this time he felt you shift and stir in his arms, and the little grumble that came out of you as a whine..

“Are you alright?” He said it in your ear, softly and voice laced with sleep.

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong?” He was half asleep still, but any attention he could muster was on you.

“It’s still so cold.”

It was impossible to get any closer to you. But somehow he did, entangling his legs with yours and breathing on your cheek. He did not leave any part of you alone, his now warm hands running across your cold skin. 

There had been this sweetness that overtook him through this, one that only came out during certain times. Maybe it was something about seeing you so cold and stressed during the last day. You really loved this part of him, an emotion only reserved for you.

“Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

You had honestly forgotten with the blizzard through the sanctum yesterday and your difficulty sleeping. But all you wanted was to go back to sleep. And stay in bed in the morning, staying cuddled with Stephen. That sounded like the perfect Christmas morning. 

[edengarden]

I had dad bod characters on the mind today so have this lil piece abt athletes goin thru the athlete->working adult transition

Synopsis: your partner has been staring at themselves in the mirror in disappointment a little too much lately. You decide to step in. Gender neutral reader

Characters: Tetsurou Kuroo, Osamu Miya and Satori Tendou

Tw: Mentions of weight gain, initial refusal to eat (Tendou)

Kuroo let’s put a dry chuckle when you lean into the bathroom and shoot him a questioning stare. His eyes leave his figure in the mirror to meet yours. “I guess I should start hit the gym soon.” He jokes, but you know better than to think there’s no weight behind his words. However, the more you stare, the more uncomfortable he feels. He unconsciously stands a little taller, straightening his spine.

“Only if you want to.” You mutter softly as you make your way to him. You place yourself between the mirror and him, arms loosely hugging his waist. “But I think you look perfect like this.”

His smile isn’t as bright or cocky as it usually is. “I dunno, honey. I—“

“Tetsu, you were perfect for me when we were eighteen and you’re still perfect for me right now.” You insist in a stern tone. You hope this gets through to him. “If you want to do some changes, I’ll be by your side through it all. But don’t you dare change anything just because you think I’d like it better that way. I think you look handsome and you act it, too.” Kuroo couldn’t help the smile that covered his face and decided to act upon the urge to lean down and gratefully kiss you. No matter what the scale told him, with you here and a great career, he knew he was right where he needed to be.

He can’t lie; watching his twin brother on television made Osamu a little self-conscious. In high school, his love of food and volleyball balanced each other perfectly well. But now that he isn’t playing anymore, he’s gained a couple pounds in fat, while Tsumu gained muscle instead.

Though your focus should be on the game, you had noticed how your partner had brought a pillow to hug against his stomach at the beginning of the game and how he hadn’t let go of it yet. Whether he was aware of it or not was a completely different question, but you were all too familiar with this tactic to ignore it. “You wanna watch something else? We can see the results on Twitter later.” You suggested.

“No, no. Tsumu’ll have my head if I don’t watch it live.” He shook his head, aware of your oddly soft tone. Some semblance of shame built up in him.

Well, there’s no better way to communicate than to do it directly. “You shouldn’t compare yourself with your brother like that. You two are too different to begin with.” Your hand reached out for the pillow in his grasp and you gently pulled it from him. Instead, you settled between his arms and made yourself comfortable. “But if it were up to me — and don’t tell Atsumu — I think you’re better. You’re down to earth, you can cook, you give great cuddles and you’re downright stunning. I couldn’t have settled for better if I tried.”

There was a soft mumble of a ‘thanks’ before Osamu laid back on the couch, wrapping his arms around you and encasing your hips with his thighs before the two of you brought your attention back to the game.

“I made some banana bread, ‘Tori! Want a piece? I added chocolate chips!” You sang in a very bad vibrato. You had expected for Satori to bounce into the kitchen, begging for a piece. Instead, you were met with an incertain call back, followed by a polite refusal. “What? But you barely ate for dinner! At least have some bread?” You asked, earning another shake of his head.

“I taste tested some batches today at the shop, I think I’m done eating for the day.” He then patted his stomach. “Now that my metabolism’s slowed a little, I think I could actually get through the night!” Yeah, that joke didn’t go over your head.

“Tori, you need to get some food in you. Chocolate isn’t substantial.” You scolded, putting aside the fresh banana bread and standing behind the counter. “What do you want? I’ll whip up anything you want! Consider it an occasion!”

Once more, your attempts earned you a shake of his head, albeit his smile was a little duller now, as if he felt guilty. Guilty for eating. “Hey.” You called, walking over to him. “Gaining weight is as natural as eating, yeah? You know it won’t make a difference in the way I perceive you. I would rather you eat anyway. You need the energy, sweetheart.” You lifted yourself on the tip of your toes. Tendou got the message quickly, bending down so that you could peck his forehead. “I love you, okay? So what’ll it be?”

His smile didn’t return at full capacity, but the corners of his mouth turned upwards as they would when he was genuinely content. This was progress, and you were willing to accompany him through it. “Just a fruit salad, love.”

[lebenspurpur]

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

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

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright. I won't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll join you if you do."

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

"Alright."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're lucky I love you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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