#it's usually at the worst times but it makes it 10% times better

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[alltimefail]

ATTENTION DEAD BOYS FANDOM:

We have some unfinished business and a case to solve: The Case of the Curious Cancellation! 💀🔎

Here are the ways you can help (be sure to read until the end).

I'm not sure how many people here on Tumblr are also over on DBDA Twitter, but there have been MANY developments in the last 24 hours and it's important for all of us to be on the same page if we're going to have a chance in hell of saving our show.

First and foremost, we need to get Dead Boy Detectives in the Netflix Top 10 again. This means running it as much as possible. Read about that below:

(SOURCE x)

As the graphic says, the goal is to have it running on a loop constantly, as much as you physically can. Be sure to have some level of volume on or else it won't count. If you're on Twitter be sure to post your rewatch (photos of your tv, commentary, etc.) with the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives !!!

Also, there's no better time to do this: the Tweet below brings up a great point! 👍

(SOURCE x)

Second, and easiest thing: KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SHOW AND CREATING CONTENT ABOUT THE SHOW. Analysis, fics, fanart, shitposts, gif sets, memes, tik tok videos, so on - do not stop! Reblog other people's stuff and talk about it! Give fics kudos, comment, make fic rec lists and post that WIP or sketch! The most important thing to remember is to TAG YOUR POSTS AND CREATIONS. We need to trend!!! On Tumblr make sure you continue tagging your posts as you probably already are (look at my tags on this post if you need help, and remember not to use "DBD" on here because that is another fandom! We use DBDA here). On Twitter you want to use the hashtag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives for the rewatch and #SaveDeadBoyDetectives is a popular one, too. You can also use #DeadBoyDetectives. Hell, I usually use all three if I can! Hashtag every post you make about Dead Boys, no matter how annoying or "cringe" you may feel. Flood the fucking tag and do not stop.

Third, everyone needs to sign and keep circulating the petition. We've surpassed 5,000 signatures in a day which is fantastic, but we need more. Get everyone you know to sign it; tell them it takes no more than 15 seconds. Be annoying until they do it just to shut you up.

Fourth, request "Dead Boy Detectives Season 2" through Netflix's support website. It's a small thing but if we all do this a couple times a day it will get their attention. They really do vet these suggestions, and an influx of requests for a canceled show will raise eyebrows.

Lastly, if you decide to write Netflix (via email or a letter - their office address has been floating around) please remember to stay concise and professional. Don't curse at them, don't call names. State that you are disappointed with the cancellation of the show, maybe add an anecdote about what it meant to you, and I would even recommend attaching some articles that emphasize people's displeasure with the platform abandoning shows on a whim and Netflix's flippant attitude toward queer shows in particular. Dead Boy Detective Agency on Twitter has retweeted every article on this topic so far, you can find their page here.

You can also use graphics such as the ones below to affirm that the cancellation was unjust.

(Source 1, Source 2)

I know this feels like a lot: know your limits and take care of yourself. Whether you do every single one of these things or just a few of these things, every llittle bit helps!

Even in the worst case scenario where nothing changes, this gesture will mean so much to everyone who made this show. We owe it to the writers, cast, crew, and each other to TRY. We can all agree that this show deserves at least another season and if Netflix isn't going to do it, they need to be open to selling it to someone who will. We cannot keep allowing them to axe these queer and diverse shows with little regard for their customers and their employees, but also because it sets a harmful standard in the industry that is destroying television.

Let's crack this case and bring our agency back! I truly believe in this community!! 💜 We can do this!!

If there are any spelling errors or issues with links let me know! I did this on mobile because I want to mobilize this information as quickly as possible! I'll be adding on to this with new developments and can answer any questions you all might have. Lets save our show!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Someone, take Lego away from Konig (yandere!loser!Konig x fem!Reader)

AO3

Konig is keeping you in his basement. Turns out, this is still not the worst part. His interest are. Tags ans Warnings: Dub-con, obsessive behaviour, possessive behavior, yandere loser Konig, size difference, kidnapping, weird fluff.

König can play women’s bodies like fine musical instruments.

After he spent 10 minutes vigorously rubbing your outer labia, you concluded that he was thrown out of musical school on day one.

He flicks your clit occasionally, clearly not considering it something worthy of attention and, obviously, not something that actually brings you pleasure – he fidgets with it mechanically, like it’s a part of his riffle, and you almost want to say that his dismissive approach is kind of hot. He edges you perfectly, always giving away just enough pleasure that it feels nice, but not nearly enough that it brings you to orgasm – and he does so with zero idea of what he is doing, which makes you…almost proud. Of him. Of your angry crazy incel loser kidnapper who thought that bringing you lego flowers would make you suck his cock.

Well, it kinda did. Not the flowers, the whole…kidnapping thing. He did use it to get into your pants – and you aren’t even allowed to wear those now. Only his shirts, maybe a hoodie on a cold day, and a pair of lacy panties that he slips on you every morning he is at home.

You have a system – and König does his best to maintain it. You are getting fed at the same time, to make sure that your pretty little self is not malnourished, you are getting roughly clean clothes — most of it belongs to him, of course, like it’s not embarrassing to wear, and sometimes he even asks how your day was. Sometimes you look him deep in the eyes and say that you didn’t move from your usual spot the whole day because, well, you are kidnapped. Sometimes you are trying to be funny and make some silly jokes — and then he either gets too comfortable laughing and then trying to get his hand all the way down the depths of your inner thighs, or he gets angry.

König knows that a petty flower like you doesn’t want to be in captivity for so long, but there really isn’t much both of you can do about it.

He brings you different lego sets from time to time, trying to find out what you like the most. He doesn’t quite understand that, working in a Lego shop, you were utterly sick of most of the boxes lying around. He tried to gauge the reaction out of you, but you’re either ignoring him, crying or begging him to let you go…and he can’t exactly have that. He, kinda, can, of course, but it would mean sliding off your brain so you would never tell anyone about your experiences, or getting into a showdown with the police – and knowing that he hopped you through the border illegally to be his captive wife, wouldn’t really give him any brownie points. He is fucked, utterly and completely, if you’re ever going to be free without falling madly in love with him…

Which is why König is trying to make you love him. Thoroughly, utterly, and spending copious amounts of time with his tongue buried between your folds in the meantime.

Like now.

— You like it, ja? When I move like this…

He was spending too much time caressing and fondling your thighs – but you must admit that having his lips travel across your skin and sending goosebumps right into your core wasn’t so bad…he touched you a bit awkwardly, just a tad bit shy – like he wasn’t so sure how to approach a soft, female body instead of a cold rifle he was probably used to…he knows that he can’t just treat you like another one of his guns but, by god, if he doesn’t adore the way you look at him. All scared and nervous as he pushes his lips upwards, as he covers your soft skin with bite marks – you were so sure that he will be too nervous to even touch you, but you know better now…this guy doesn’t care that he is your captor. He only wants you to accept him, and if giving you gifts didn’t work out…

You needed to be a bit more diligent about the whole accepting his kindness thing. Maybe he would have been satisfied with a handjob – but now he wants to put his hands on you and do his job.

— Too…too much, Ko…

— Call me “sir”.

There is steel in his voice, and you stiff slightly. This is new – he was never like this before, even though you kinda got that he was in some sort of military. He was way too bulky and had too much money to be a regular gun nerd, so you settled for some special forces or elite war crime unit…then again, you weren’t in Germany anymore. Guy would have to get another citizenship to get into a more serious “I fucking hate my fellow man�� forces.

He flicks his tongue over your clit and you remember what you’re here for. To get fucked. Because you are fucked. Not right now in physical sense, but you will be in a few minutes, and you’ve been mentally fucked for a few another hours and-

— Sir, ple…too much, re…really…

König fuckijng adores you.

He loves your trembling voice, your trembling hands, your trembling everything. The way you squint your eyes as he finds all of your special spots – it took him some time but ladies are just like riffles – come undone if you press on a few parts. You look perfect under him, and he couldn’t have you any other way even if he wanted to…god, you’re too fucking perfect for your own good. So, so pretty, it’s insane how he didn’t fuck you the first night you’ve been in his basement. Perhaps, he was trying to be a gentleman – fuck this, now. If he knew how sweet you would sound, he’d abandon any rotten chivalry on day one.

König didn’t have a lot of experience – a few sex workers here and there, some in the more exotic destinations while the others were, embarrassingly enough, from his hometown. It was a sense of domesticity, that he isn’t a fucking loser who can’t get a lady in his bed without wavering either his gun or hit wallet – but he has you now, and you don’t really care about his money or his guns…unless he counts your obvious activity. Which he doesn’t. Good golly, you’re too fucking pretty to count that.

He flicks his tongue over your clit and dips lower, deeper, sucking the sweet nectar straight from the source. You’re embarrassingly wet even as you try to push his head away – he would handcuff you, but he likes your little resistance attempts too much. He moans every time you tug on his hair and, with time, you should finally understand that everything you do only makes him want you more. Maybe, you do – but you keep doing this because you’re such a good girl who wants nothing more but to please her dearest…not exactly husband, but he can work on this. He has friends in places. Same ones who used to get him out of detentions when his quiet kid violent tendencies weren’t quite quiet enough.

He is moaning as he eats you out – the sound reverberates from your walls and makes you clench around his tongue, your brain already getting fried from pleasure. You never wanted to get off from your captor’s tongue buried so deep between your legs, but you surely enjoy it now…

You try to pry his head from you when he gets a bit too eager, when it feels like his nose is smashing your clit and you can only moan some mindless bullshit.

— You want to talk about lego instead?

He presses his head on your thighs, his cheek angled against the soft skin. He has a bit of a stubble that burns the soft skin, but the look in his eyes is far too eager. He is not bullshitting – and this is the most terrifying he is ever been. You try to imagine another three-hour lecture Star Wars and the history of lego sets combined with his awkward attempts to fuck you in between turning his affection spam from one thing to the other. The picture is vivid in your mind. You can almost hear it.

You consider your options. It is a hard decision for you.

— You know, they weren’t able to sell the sets to girls up until…

You grab a fistful of his hair and push his face all the way down your dripping pussy.

It looks like the only sure way of making your captor shut up is literally forcing him to fuck you…there were many such cases – you embarrassingly easily fall to his charms, even though he has the aura and charisma of a serial killer who got a freshly baked orphan for his lunch and then tried to talk you into destroying a small country’s economy.

König eats you out with the vigor of a starving man, and there isn’t a place he would love to be more than here and now, listening to your heavenly moans. This is the best motivational song he heard so far – and as he pushes his big, flat tongue deeper into the gummy walls of your clenching pussy, he thinks about recording your sounds and then listening to them in the gym. Could probably break the poor lifting pole with the strength of his fists.

He brought you to an orgasm – not easily, he had to lick the reaction out of you, your heat coming down to both of you like a wave. You feel tired immediately, knowing just how much energy you just wasted listening to his blabber between your legs – but you honestly can’t be arsed to react right now.

König lifts his body up so he can kiss you – you taste yourself on him and, admittedly, it’s a lovely way to make him shut up. You still tremble as you get down from your high, your legs finally giving up, even though you were already laying on that shabby mattress. You shift slightly so he won’t crush you under the weight of his body. A Lego piece pocks at your side, making you wince.

You hate this fucking place.

— What’s wrong, Liebling?

He nuzzles your neck like a needy dog, pressing light kisses all over your skin. He is marking it, too – you can’t keep comparing him to a dog, but this is exactly what he is. Simply a war hound that you have to tame in order to get a somewhat normal life while still belonging in his basement. You thought you knew how to play this game – then he pushed you on your tummy and fucked you because, apparently, you were too good at playing him. Even now, he acts more like a lover – if only you could see past his homicidal tendencies…

But you can’t.

But he doesn’t care anyway.

— I…

You bite your lips, trying to come up with a lie that wouldn’t make him fuck you. König thought you looked beautiful like this, all holed up in your thoughts. So, so pretty, he couldn’t help himself – he needed you, as much as he kinda hated playing the psychological game and trying to understand what you’re thinking. Ladies are too mysterious for him, after all.

— I want to sleep in a normal bed.

Oh.

Well, he…didn’t expect this.

He was ready to combat your desire to run away or to be let go willingly. He was ready to put you on your knees and make you beg for him to not let you go - after all, you did belong to him in all of his right. He didn’t…didn’t expect you to want something so simple. Something that he can do. God, you’d look fucking divine on his bed instead of the tiny basement he put you in. He can already imagine you on your tummy, face buried in his pillows as he pounds into your soft ass and explains every superhero poster he has in his room. He will show you all of his figures and knives and guns, and you’ll finally see just how amazing he is and how interesting his hobbies are – and you’re bound to finally love him the way he deserves.

You stare at him, blankly. He kinda loves when you look like that – sometimes he imagines you being a mindless little bimbo who can’t think of anything besides his dick, and it helps him get off when you’re too sleepy to play along with him. He tried to bring you more sets, something childish, something meant for girls – but you tossed away the rose bouquet and you didn’t even spare a second glance at some fandom set that he thought you’d like. God, you’re difficult. Women are difficult. Why can’t you be as straight as a riffle?

— Normal bed, Katzen? You don’t like it here?

He puts a hand on your shoulder, his fingers too big to rest on your body carefully – he easily reaches for your neck and he knows that you’d go out like a light with the smallest squeeze. You’re adorable and soft like this, and he can’t wait to finally try choking with you.

König imagines your pretty, soft body all helpless under him – maybe you’d claw at his hands and beg him to stop, maybe you’d enjoy it, drenching the small mattress with your juices. Maybe you’d push your hips towards his, desperately searching for release. You can be a nasty, dirty girl, he knows this all too well – mostly because he did go through your phone and searched for your browser history. Who knew that a simple lego store cashier could have so many kidnapping and overpowering fantasies. Who knew that you could be so wet just because some military-obsessed loser wanted to shove his cock into you and wasn’t nice enough to ask first.

— I…I don’t like the basement.

Smart girl. You know how to be sot and obedient when you have to. Too bad, this behavior also made you all the more desirable for König – compared to the rowdy recruits and dumb enemies, your quiet voice is everything he needs to not go crazy. His hand plays with your neck, squeezing it slightly, playfully. He can feel your pulse quickening every time he does this and he is sure that if he’d drop his hand between your legs again, your pulsating pussy would be wet enough to indicate a second orgasm.

Shit.

He goes too far again.

— You don’t like the basement? Why?

You stare at him, blankly. He seriously thought there is nothing wrong with the basement – it’s small, yes, but probably just about the size of a studio apartment you were able to afford while working in Berlin, of all places. You have a mattress, a loving boyfriend, you have all the food and snacks you want, your pussy is filled with cum and your mind should be filled with endless love and adoration for the coolest guy in the world who just so happens to be in love with you, so…

He looks at your face again. Ja, you don’t like the basement. You’re a surface girl after all.

— You really want me to answer that? It’s the basement.

He snorts, still dragging the conversation.

— I spend most of my childhood in the basement. It was nice.

— I could tell.

— What?

— Nothing. Let me out, please.

He sighs with deeply settled tiredness. He thought you’d be nicer about it, too – but he knows what ladies want, he is a ladies' man at heart. He doesn’t have one, of course, not unless this charcoal-black shrapnel-filled thing deep in his chest could be considered one, but he tried his best to be good for you. You deserve something nice, something good. He wants to kiss you all over and he will do it on his own bed, while trying to talk you into watching some old nerdy TV show with him. Maybe you’d agree to play with some Lego after this and it could be considered a really nice and thorough foreplay.

— I can’t.

— Let me sleep on a normal bed, then.

Well, this, he can do.

Carefully unlocking your shackles and immediately catching your legs so you won’t kick him in an attempt to escape, König picks you up like a kitten. It’s scary, almost, how easy it is for him to just manhandle you into the position he wants. He is a big boy, admittingly, so it really doesn’t matter how big or how small you are. He can abuse you easily, and this is why you’re trying to keep him gentle. Using all of your womanly charms even if this guy would get off just from you calling his name.

He covers your eyes so you won’t see anything – not like you’re interested in the amount of weirdly specific movie posters on the walls or an alarming amount of firearms. He knows he is not the most charming person out there with the most interesting hobbies, but you will learn to appreciate all of his anime figures, or else you’re going to suffer the fate of a recruit who dares to ask his late thirties colonel of who the fuck Ayanami Rei is. Rumors are held that this guy was never seen in the army again.

He only puts the hand away from your face when you are sitting on the soft bed. You stare at the navy sheets – fucking obviously – and, surprisingly, a bed frame. Then your gaze travels a bit further, to the walls and…

God.

Oh fuck.

You almost want to cry from how much of a loser your kidnapper is. He is a threatening mercenary, a fucking colonel in military uniform who holds you at gunpoint occasionally. You stare at the anime posters. You contemplate your options.

— Can I go back to the basement?

If god is real, he is a fucking anime girl from the poster in your kidnapper’s bedroom.

[adelar-storytime]

OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

___

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

___

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

___

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

---

some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

[crushmeeren]

♡ Bakugou/Kirishima/Fem Reader

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+

♡ Master List Link

Warnings; angst/comfort, vaginal sex, blow jobs, kissing, jealous/possessive Bakugou & Kirishima, cursing, bit of degradation, cream pie, mentions of being nauseous,

Note; I’m currently in the process of re-editing this entirely, so it may read and look funky until I’m done!

You lean your elbows on the bar top in front of you, causally moving your head from side to side. Taking a moment you study your environment. The flashing lights are fucking blinding you. The base of the music is loud enough you can feel it rattling your rib cage. It’s a lot, and as you wait on your next shot, you think this may have been a mistake. All you wanted was to drink a bit, dance with your boyfriends, and head home before it’s too late. As this bullshit usually goes, that isn’t what happens.

You look down as you notice the bartender place your shot in front of you. You nod in thanks wrapping your fingers around the small glass. Standing up, you raise the liquid to your lips. You throw your head back as you down the shot. It’s gross. It threatens to come right back up— so you swallow fast, nose scrunching in disgust. It’s a lemon drop, which isn’t the worst, but it’s still alcohol.

Regardless of the sweetness, it still burns, making your stomach swirl nauseously. It tastes like an alcohol wipe and you shiver. Sitting the shot glass on the wooden counter top, you turn around and scan the room for your boyfriends, back leaning against the bar. It’s hard to see in the dimly lit, crowded room. You can feel your cheeks heat up, from the alcohol and from the atmosphere. The air is thick with the warmth radiating from all the dancing bodies.

You step away from the bar, standing on your tip toes for a second. You curse, because you’re too short and there’s too many damn people in here. You can’t spot the red head or the blonde anywhere. A flash of irritation runs through you and your lip tugs into a sneer. You think that it shouldn’t be so hard to find two men with such outrageous hair. To be fair, you are a little tipsy, that may be impeding your search a bit.

You step further away from the bar and you sway slightly, hand shooting out to grip the bar stool next to you. Okay, maybe you’re more tipsy than you thought. You let out a irritated huff, the alcohol fueling your frustration. It makes your skin feel hot and itchy as you remember the argument you had with Katsuki. The three of you had already been here an hour, truly on your way to being buzzed when you started arguing.

Which had resulted in you stomping off to the bar alone. Their protests had fallen on deaf ears as you walked away, needing a moment to cool off before it turned into a shouting match. You know you’re being petty, plus this all happened less than 10 minutes ago. You can hear the blondes gravelly voice in your head, arguing with you about some dumb shit that happened at your hero agency today.

You know it’s highly logical that the two of you are just arguing because you’re all a bit drunk. That whatever happened wasn’t a big deal. A decent size part of you knows you just should find him and Eijirou and just dance until they’re both rock hard, squishing you in the middle of them. The other, larger, and more in charge part of your brain at the moment, thinks Katsuki can pound sand.

You laugh to yourself, even though it wasn’t funny. The thumping music is making your head pound in time with the beat. You gradually start to make your way towards the area of the bar where it seems everyone is dancing in their own worlds. Against your better judgement, being stubborn as fuck, you’ve decided you don’t need either of the boys, you can dance alone.

You reach the edge of the crowd, seeing everyone woven together and you start to squeeze your way into the sea of people. The further in you get, the more you sweat. Material of your clothing sticking to your chest and back. Your only saving grace is that you’re wearing a mid thigh length, tight, black dress. So your legs can breathe and it’s short sleeved so you have some sort of air flow up top.

You look around, feeling just drunk enough that you have a pleasurable buzz. Luckily, you haven’t started slurring yet and you can still walk. Maybe not a straight line, but you can walk nonetheless. They call it liquid courage for a reason, because you feel no fear as you start to sway along to the beat. Elbow to elbow with the strangers around you.

There’s about five centimeters of space between you and everyone else. It’s one giant pile of bodies. So you don’t really notice when someone slides up behind you, until their chest is pressed right up against your back. Whoever it is is trying to dance with you. You jolt, your eyes fly open. Fuck, you hadn’t even realized you closed them. You assume it’s one of your boyfriends, forgetting you were even mad at Katsuki in the first place. God, you really hope it’s the blonde, you’re yearning to dance with him. Besides, who else would be so bold to get that close to you?

An unbearably warm arm wraps around your waist. A hand splayed on your belly and you’re yanked back into the chest of the person behind you. It dawns upon you, with frightening sobriety, that the arm wrapped around you does not belong to either of your boyfriends. Your expression twists, your heart kicks into overdrive as a chill runs down your spine. You curse internally, already pushing to get out of the iron grip. Who the hell is this person?

Fuck, if they see you like this— you don’t want them to get the wrong idea. You look up, frozen in place. Not even five feet away, standing there with a look on his face that could strike fear into the heart of God, is Katsuki. You make eye contact with him, his scarlet eyes wild, glassy from being tipsy. His face is twisted, lip pulled into a cutting sneer and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You quickly look at Eijirous face, and god, his expression is worse than the blondes.

His face..he looks betrayed. Eyes filled with hurt, a frown marring his usually cheerful expression. A whirlwind of anxiety and guilt hits you in the chest and your hands start to shake. You take a step forward in their direction immediately. It had only been about 15 seconds since the random asshole pressed up behind you. It felt like much longer.

As soon as you were about to turn around to make sure it was Katsuki or Eijirou, is when you realized the arm belonged to a fucking stranger. It’s like steel around your middle as your forward motion is halted. You look down, stunned to see the stranger has the audacity to keep holding onto you. You clearly don’t want this, wiggling to get away.

You turn your eyes back to your boyfriends, pleading, reaching out a hand in their direction. Katsuki’s cheeks turn blood red with anger. He’s at your side in an instant. He grips your outstretched hand and rips you out of the strangers unwelcome grip. You yelp, stumbling into his chest before turning around in Katsuki’s hold.

You press your back against him, desperate to feel his warmth, and you take a look at the guy who was holding you. It’s some random, younger guy, who you’ve never seen before and you feel a bit ill. You feel a woosh of air and then Katsuki is in the mans face in less than a second. Fisting the front of random guys shirt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Katsuki yells, voice rough, but he’s loud enough to be heard over the blaring music. He clenches his jaw. The other man puts his hands up in surrender, smirking mockingly, almost laughing at him. At this point you notice a presence looming behind you. Turning your head, you notice Eijirou has joined the party. He lays a large hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, stepping up just behind him.

The man’s face drops when he sees Eijirous large form, an unwavering rock, standing behind Katsuki. You haven’t seen the red head look this terrifying for a long time. You shift on your feet nervously. His face is blank, except his eyes. They’re icy. The guy starts to stutter. You’re watching all this unfold, eyes flitting back and forth between Katsuki’s red cheeks and Eijirou’s murderous gaze. You want to feel like you’re helping, so you lace your fingers with Katsuki’s free hand to help keep him grounded. The blonde squeezes harshly in return.

“H-hey! No harm guys! I didn’t know she was your girl,” the guy stammers, stepping back. Katsuki, to your extreme surprise, lets the man go. You notice the muscle in his jaw twitching. If you weren’t so on edge, you would laugh at the fact that there’s a burn print on the front of said guys shirt. The blonde stays quiet, Eijirou keeping a steady hand on Katsukis shoulder, anchoring him in place.

“You better leave while you can. You’re lucky I’m holding him back,” Eijirou threatens, voice cold and low. Yet you can all still hear his voice cutting through the music. The man pales, nods once, and disappears into the crowd. It leaves the three of you alone. It’s awkward for a second and the realization makes you want to cry.

You hear an angry noise leave Katsukis mouth as he yanks his hand from your grip. He shrugs Eijirous hand off his shoulder, turning to look at you with burning eyes. The action punches the breath from your chest, it stings. A cold feeling trickles into your belly. You open your mouth to try to explain to him, but nothing comes out. Frantically you try to step closer but he gives you a searing look and turns to stomp off from the crowd. The back of your eyes sting with tears. You take in a stuttering breath, feeling your heart squeeze watching him leave. Quickly, you look to Eijirou, moving towards him. You grip his forearm.

“Eiji, please, I wasn’t dancing with that guy! It was two seconds and then I realized it wasn’t either of you and I was going to push him away. That’s when you guys saw me! I swear!” you choke out, voice watery. Tears well up in your eyes. This is not how you wanted this night to go. You can feel your whole arm shaking as you dig your nails into his flesh. He glances at where your fingers bite into his skin. He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but it comes out too tight, his eyebrows are pinched. Anxiety twists your stomach. He holds up a hand when he sees you’re about to speak again.

“I know, I know you weren’t baby. Just—please, not here? I’m sure Kat is already outside, about to blow something up. So can we just talk at home?” Eijirou pleads, voice lined with frustration. You swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your hand from his arm. You nod once, feeling numb.

Eijirou turns from you and walks out of the crowd, presumably to find Katsuki. You feel the ugly emotion of hurt migrate to your belly, it makes bile burn in the back of your throat. Your heart still pounds, fingers trembling as you wring them together. You watch Eijirou walk away. Hot tears spill over your lashes, tracking down your cheeks. You sniffle, wiping your tears with your hands, heart in a vice. They didn’t even wait for you.

It was a long, silent, ride home in your Uber. You trail behind the other two, shuffling your feet on the way to your front door. You pretend the cracks in the sidewalk are interesting, eyes trained on the ground, following the boys by instinct. It’s still humid outside, your palms damp as you lace your fingers together in front of you. You’re all sober at this point. Adrenaline from the previous situation flushing away the buzz.

It’s freaking you out though, that Katsuki still hasn’t said a word. Usually he’s spewing insults. He would be on a tangent about a guy like that. Yet, he’s quiet. Once you get inside you know you’ll have to talk, you can’t let this go on all night. It feels like this has been made into a much bigger deal than it needs to be. You stop at the door and wait for Eijirou to unlock it. He does, pushing it open and letting you and Katsuki go in first. He comes in last, shutting the door behind him and locking it. The blessed, cool air of your home chills your overheated skin. You sigh in relief.

You study the blonde, noticing he’s about to walk off towards your room. Before Katsuki can get far, you catch his wrist, wrapping your fingers delicately around the bone. He doesn’t move and you chomp into your lower lip, nerves creeping down your spine.

“Kat, wait please. I swear baby I wasn’t dancing with that guy. I thought it was one of you. It was only a few seconds before I realized it wasn’t and I was trying to get away when you saw me,” you explain, voice wobbly, fingers tightening. You hear Katsuki let out a sigh, shoulders sagging. He turns back around to face you and you let go of his wrist. His expression, it looks like he’s fighting with himself. You’re hopeful, when after a few seconds the sharp edges of his expression smooth out. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his calloused hand come up to cradle your cheek. You lean into the heat of his palm, nose nuzzling slightly at his wrist.

“I know, I wanted to punch that motherfuckers lights out. I believe you, I’m not mad at you pretty thing,” Katsuki murmurs, voice low and gravelly. His eyes are gentle as he runs a thumb over your cheekbone. You chuckle, knowing this is his version of an apology for overreacting. You, undeniably, melt into his hands. He always has that effect on you.

“I wish you would have,” you joke lamely, small smile appearing on your lips. Katsuki smirks, eyes full of mirth. You hear Eijirou’s cute laugh ring out from behind you. You feel a tug in your chest and you yearn to see him. You turn out of the blondes hold, gazing softly at Eijirou. He’s standing a few feet behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He’s grinning brightly again, watching the two of you interact.

Eijirou’s sharp teeth are on display. You adore the way he smiles. You take in his grin and a warm, comforting feeling builds up in your chest. You can’t hold back as you throw yourself at the red head. He immediately opens his arms to catch you, eyes widening in surprise. Your arms snake around his waist and he wraps you up by the shoulders, hugging you tight. You bury your face in his chest, feeling his squishy cheek rest on the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry Ei! I know I hurt your feelings, but I swear I would never touch anyone but the two of you,” you promise, voice muffled in Eijirou’s broad chest. You feel a chuckle vibrate through his chest and your head raises, gaze leveling with his. He frames your face with his hands, eyes bright and full of love. He coos at you.

“It’s alright, my sweet baby girl. I know you wouldn’t. Besides,” he purrs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t let anyone put their hands on you. You’re ours, aren’t you? Pretty girl,” Eijirou murmurs, voice soft and sweet. You inhale sharply, arousal hitting you like a freight train. Warmth pools in your belly, sending a shiver down your spine. A side effect of his low, soothing rumble. You squirm, hugging him tighter, feeling the heat from his chest through both your shirts.

“Yes of course, I only belong to the two of you,” you reply slyly, knowing it’ll rile up both men. Katsuki is immediately behind you, lean body pressed up against your back. Their figures make you feel small where you stand between them. It makes your pussy throb. The air between the three of you is starting to blaze. You know they can feel it too when Eijirou lets go of your face, resting his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them briefly. Katsuki’s hair tickles the back of your neck and then his lips are on your ear. He flicks his tongue out and runs it along your earlobe. A low moan escapes your throat in return.

“You belong to us huh? Glad to hear you know your place, kitten. Mm, maybe you wanted us to see you dancing with that guy. Make us jealous. So that when we got home, we could remind you who you belong to. Isn’t that right Ei?” Katsuki whispers, breath dancing over your skin. A shiver runs down your spine and they both press closer, leaving no space for you to move. You watch Eijirou’s expression turn heated, lustful. A pretty pink blossoms on his cheeks at Katsuki’s words. He bites his bottom lip and tilts his head slightly, eyes piercing as he speaks.

“You know what? I think you’re right Kit Kat. Our sweet girl just wanted to be put back into her place all along. You want us to show you who owns you baby?” he teases, voice sweet like candy. He tickles his fingers down your arms, giving you goosebumps. You swallow, feeling like cotton balls are lining your throat. Your hands have come up to rest on the red heads chest. You’re so turned on now, breath coming out a bit faster. Your pussy clenches around air, rhythmically.

“Fuck, yes, show me you two own me. I want it. After tonight, I want to forget the feeling of that guys hands,” you whine, pressing your ass back into Katsuki’s pelvis. His half hard cock pushes into your lower back and he lets out a groan. His large hands grip your hips from behind and he bites a kiss into your neck. You yelp, a sharp flash of pain radiates up to your jaw, feeling his teeth dig in. He lets go, a soft huff, which you think is a laugh, touches your skin. It tickles.

“Sound good to you red?” Katsuki ask more smugly than you can ever recall hearing him.

“More than good Kat,” he laughs, bouncing lightly on his feet. You glance down at Eijirou’s waist, seeing he’s already hard, thick cock straining against his jeans. The want you feel is blistering, skin entirely too hot. Katsuki snickers meanly and lets go of your waist, backing away. Your back feels cold and then Eijirou lets go too, taking away all of your heat. You whine, pushing out your lower lip to Eijirou, knowing you can get him to give you what you want. As usual, he’s unable to resist your pout. He steps back up to you. You can physically feel Katsuki’s eyes roll from behind you.

“What is it baby girl?” Eijirou coos, voice airy. He’s unable to stop himself from placing a hand on the back of your neck, tilting your head up. You bat your lashes at him slowly.

“Carry me please?” you plead, reaching your arms up to him. You hear Katsuki snort from behind you. Eijirou giggles, immediately bending down, waiting. You jump up, securing your legs on his waist, arms tangled around his neck as he stands up straight, holding your thighs. He strides forward, walking towards your bedroom, winking at Katsuki when he passes by. The blonde raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t be like that Kat, I know you would’ve carried her if she asked,” he comments , grinning at the blonde. Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he grins coyly, knowing he would in a heartbeat. You stick your tongue out at Katsuki playfully over Eijirous shoulder as you get further away. Katsuki smirks wickedly at you, eagerly following along. He’ll show you who you belong to alright.

The low overhead light of your room casts them in a soft yellow light. They’re making you watch. They’re teaching you a lesson, you suppose. You try not to show how much you’re enjoying it. You’re all naked now, clothes scattered on the floor. Everyone’s piled on the bed. They’ve got you sitting on your calves, facing them. You have a perfect side view of Katsuki sucking down Eijirous cock. It’s not fucking fair and you can feel your pussy pulsate, slick lips gliding together every time you shift your thighs. A low heat warring in your belly.

You decide to let Eijirou’s pretty face take away the attention from your aching cunt for now. The red head’s cheeks are a soft pink color. He bites his bottom lip, watching his cock disappear over and over in Katsuki’s wet, velvety, warm mouth. His dick pulses, knowing they have your undivided attention and you can’t do anything but sit and admire the view. Watching Eijirou’s smug expression makes your mouth dry. It’s unbearable, how hot they are together, you struggle to keep still. They’ve decided you can’t touch yourself or them—yet. You want nothing more than to trail a hand down and rub circles into your clit. You try to distract yourself from the strong urge to tug the blonde off Eijirou’s cock and get him to make out with you over the red heads leaking tip. Instead you let your eyes roam Katsuki’s form, taking extra time to admire the perky swell of his ass.

Your hand twitches, wanting to smack the shit out of Katsukis pale flesh, to leave your handprint there. You watch as your boyfriend lays on his belly, between the red heads large thighs. He’s resting the weight of his forearms and hands on Eijirous legs. He shallowly rubs his cock against the mattress beneath him. It makes you want to roll him over and swallow his cock until he cries.

He’s easily bobbing his head up and down on Eijirou’s thick dick. He looks like a fucking pro. Which, he always excels at everything he does. Sucking cock is no exception. It makes your clit ache listening to the sounds Eijirou let’s out, they’re undeniably sinful. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off Katsukis stretched, red lips, making Eijirou’s cock vanish into his mouth. You just know the blonde is enjoying putting on a show for you. His nails bite into Eijirou’s skin. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was smirking.

The thought causes a flash of irritation to shoot through you and you really start to get frustrated, as your pussy fucking aches to be filled by one of them. It clenches around air continuously. You know if you ran a finger over your pussy it would come back drenched.. It has your hands clenching tightly into fists.

You watch the hand Eijirou has laced through the blondes hair tighten, as his head tilts further back on the pillow. A sweet, low moan spills from his lips when Katsuki’s pink tongue pokes out to massage at his cock, as he swallows Eijirou whole. You let out a whine, your clit throbs and it starts to hurt. Your belly is twisted tight, blistering arousal pooling at the base of your spine. You’re contemplating on complaining, breaking their rules, when the red head speaks.

“Baby girl,” Eijirou calls you, moaning softly. You reluctantly tear your gaze away from Katsuki’s hot mouth, head quickly turning to meet Eijirou’s eyes. You take in the even darker shade of flush on his cheeks and chest. You squirm, uncomfortably aroused as you meet his gaze.

“Yes Eiji?” you ask, voice strained. He hums, listening to the way you sound and he smiles coyly at you. Your skin burns when he speaks next.

“Enjoying the show? It feels so good, ya know. Kat’s warm mouth. It’s amazing. Bet ya wish he was eating your pussy, don’t you? Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight,” he says meanly, smirking, as he tilts his head on the pillow to look at you better.

You hear Katsuki moan around Eijirou’s cock in some form of agreement and Eijirou laughs brightly. His hair has fallen from its spiky style, splayed around his head on the pilllow. You love when his hair is down, easier to pull on. Embarrassment radiates through you, cheeks heating up and your lower lip trembles. You don’t know how Eijirou is able to keep a steady voice.

“N-no, I’m fine,” you pout, remaining stubborn, crossing your arms over your chest. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing your lie. Katsuki pulls off the red heads cock with a pop, letting it slap wetly against Eijirous lower belly. Eijirou lets go of the blondes hair and you look at Katsuki, who has a catlike grin on his face.

All you want in that moment is to shove your tongue down Katsuki’s throat and get railed by Eijirou’s thick cock. You swallow, involuntarily, and study Katsuki as he sits up slowly. He crawls out from Eijirou’s legs, maneuvering until he gets to you and sits on your left side, his knees touching the outside of your thigh. When his skin brushes against yours, your heart rate speeds up.

His cock looks so hard it could cut diamonds. It stands up straight, twitching when he catches you looking. You notice his lips are swollen when he grins lopsidedly and you can’t keep looking at him. The sight makes your brain turn to mush. So you glance back over at Eijirou, to read his expression.

He’s sitting up now. Eijirou abandons his spot against the headboard and comes up to mirror Katsukis position, on your right side. Your heart pounds in your chest, feeling like it’ll break through your sternum. You can feel the warmth radiating from both boys and you feel a bit of nerves, waiting for what will come next. Katsuki makes the next move, leaning close, brushing his nose over the heated skin of you cheek before whispering in your ear. His lips tickle your earlobe.

“You sure about that? Because I think you’re lying, kitten,” he purrs, voice low and smooth. The feeling of frustration builds up in your chest again and it wants to force itself out of your throat. It pushes at your esophagus, clawing at the inside. You stave it off for now, biting your lower lip so hard it might split. You can’t help but lean into the blondes touch, wanting to rest your temple on his forehead and your eyes flutter. He apparently has other plans, because he only kisses your cheek briefly and leans back. You whine loudly, eyes snapping open. They both snicker, acting like bullies. It’s too hot.

“I just- I want,” you let out a frustrated noise, rubbing the tops of your thighs with sweaty palms. “I want my pussy to get filled,” you say quickly, face burning with sheer embarrassment. You don’t look at either of them now. Until you feel Eijirou’s pointer finger on your chin, forcing you to turn your head to face him. You look at him through your lashes and he grins, all sharp teeth, as he drops his finger.

“Mm, I don’t know pretty girl. Do you deserve to have that sweet little pussy stretched?” he mocks you, now running his hand up your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive crease of your leg next to your cunt. You twitch, eyes widening as he gets closer to your aching pussy. You feel hot, irritated, and unbearably horny.

“Yes Eiji! Please, oh my god, I swear I know who I belong to,” you beg, moaning when you feel Katsuki’s plush lips pressing soft kisses into your neck. You tilt your head slightly and his canines sink into your flesh. You squeal, hand shooting out to grip the blondes thigh, nails digging in. The sharp pain radiates up to your ear, edging on pleasure. He soothes his tongue over the angry flesh. You know there’s no way you can keep your hands to yourself anymore. Keeping one hand on the blondes thigh, you raise your other hand to tangle it in the soft red hair at the nape of Eijirou’s neck. His grin gets even wider and he has mercy on you, letting you tug on the strands. His fingers tease your outer pussy lips, playing with the soft pubic hair there. He tickles your skin and you groan, tilting your head back a bit. Your clit throbs but he ignores you and addresses Katsuki now.

“What do you think Kat? Have we tortured her enough? Think we should show her she belongs to us now?” he purrs, talking about you like you aren’t even there. It makes your blood pressure sky rocket. You grip Eijirou’s hair and he doesn’t even flinch. You huff, squirming in place and look over at Katsuki. He’s grinning wickedly, gazing into Eijirou’s eyes, very much looking like he’s in love.

“I’m feeling generous. Go on, Eijirou. Touch her, I know her pathetic pussy is begging for it,” he says condescendingly, glancing at you to wink. Your breath catches, watching Eijirou’s hand moving to the side slowly. He hovers over your cunt, stretching out the charged moment. You’re having a hard time not closing the gap and just thrusting your pussy into his hand. He leans he forehead against your temple as you tilt your head, watching his large hand.

Time seems to only exist here with the three of you. Atmosphere electric, making your blood rush. When Eijirou slides a finger between your folds, separating them and collecting the slick there, your mouth drops open. When he presses that finger against your clit, moving in slow circles, you choke on a scream. The relief makes you lightheaded, hot pulses of pleasure blistering through your limbs. You can feel Katsuki’s leg twitch under your hand.

“Eijirou, ooohh fuck, that’s so fucking good,” you sob, looking up into his ruby eyes. It forces his head back from your temple and you study his expression. His eyes are hooded, lazy grin tugging on his lips. You feel Katsuki’s groan vibrate through your shoulder. He’s resting his cheek there, watching Eijirou play with your pussy. You hear the schlick noise of the blonde pumping his own cock beside you. The sound almost kills you. It makes the smoldering heat in your belly blaze into an inferno. Your eyes flicker down to Eijirou lips. The red head tracks your movement.

“Please Eiji,” you whisper, groaning as his slippery fingers continue to circle your clit. He grants your wish, leaning in and pressing his pillowy lips against yours. They’re warm, the pressure is soft. One of his sharp teeth catches your bottom lip, like a pinprick. You love it. You kiss him like you’re starving, lips moving together over and over. It’s a messy kiss, trading saliva back and forth.

You whine sweetly into his mouth when you feel his fingers put more pressure on your clit, moving faster. He greedily swallows your noises and slips his tongue into your mouth easily. You let your tongues play together in between kisses. The sounds of Eijirou’s mouth on yours is making Katsuki’s cock throb repeatedly in his hand and he can’t take it anymore. His blood is on fire.

“Fuck, fuck this. I’m gonna fuck you now kitten. You can suck on Ei’s cock and let him fuck you after I’m done,” he growls, right next to your ear, tugging on your wrist forcing you to break the kiss. You gasp and immediately feel the red heads hand leave your clit. You don’t want him to stop, but you’d rather let Katsuki fuck you into the mattress. You let go of Eijirou’s hair and turn your head towards Katsuki.

“Yes, okay, show me who I belong to, please,” you say, breathless from the kiss. You hear the sounds of rustling sheets as Eijirou assumes his previous position, using pillows to prop up his lower back. He props up one leg and lets his thighs part for you. You stare at his cock. It’s resting on his belly, pink and flushed. Your mouth waters.

“Blow her back out Katsuki,” Eijirou says, sounding way too cheerful. Katsuki laughs, placing a hand on your back to get you moving. You feel a hot shiver roll down your spine from the words leaving Eijirou’s mouth. The gentle pressure of the blondes hand on you sets you into motion, you maneuver until you can settle in between the red heads thighs.

Once you sit on your calves, Katsuki pushes you forward with a large hand in the middle of your back. He’s rough about it and your hands flail out, catching yourself on Eijirou’s pecs. You blush, unable to help but love the way they’re treating you, almost like a toy. Eijirou smiles sweetly and in contrast to his expression, he takes the opportunity to grip both your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers, squeezing harshly.

“Katsuki!” you say warningly, moaning at the warm hands embracing your tits. They both ignore you, moving fast, because in the next second the blondes grabbing your hips and yanking you backwards. He moves you like a rag doll until your ass is propped in the air and you’re on your forearms. Face inches from the red heads thick cock. You hiss through clenched teeth when Katsuki’s palm rains down on your ass. He spanks you harshly. The flesh there heats immediately, pain flaring brightly. You look up at Eijirou, panting, cheeks red, and you notice he’s got a hand around the base of his cock. He’s pumping it slowly and watching your face intensely.

“Don’t whine. I know for damn sure you like being treated like this,” Katsuki says condescendingly, gripping both your ass cheeks and spreading them open. Cool air dances across your skin and you gasp, nuzzling your face into the crease of Eijirou’s thigh. It makes the red head groan throatily. His hand leaves his cock, threading through your hair and yanking your head up. His eyes are burning, face looking a bit more predatory.

“Tell Katsuki you love it baby girl. Ask him to fuck you and show you you’re ours,” he commands, low voice smoldering through you. You can’t really move your head, forced to make eye contact with Eijirou. So you speak.

“Kat, I love being treated like this, please fuck me baby, I love you,” you whine, fingers gripping the sheets below you. You hear the blonde laugh meanly. It feels like you’ve been shocked, jolting when the thick tip of Katsuki’s cock slips inside you easily. The small stretch is so fucking good, you moan, struggling to keep your eyes open and on Eijirou. The red heads mouth is open slightly, fingers tightening in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his shaft again, squeezing. It sends tingles of up his spine.

“That’s what I like to fucking hear kitten. I love you too, filthy girl. You’re gonna take my cock so well tonight,” Katsuki moans, steadily pressing his dick all the way in, until his hips are fit snugly to your ass. You whimper loudly, eyes fluttering shut at the delicious feeling and stretch of Katsuki’s cock. Your neck aches from being held in this position, at such an intense angle. The red head keeps you there as Katsuki starts to fuck you. He moves his hand up and down his cock leisurely, enjoying the show.

Katsuki digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips and sets a brutal pace immediately, making you cry out loudly with each movement. The drag of his cock along your walls creates a friction so delicious, it sends heatwaves of pleasure rolling through your limbs. Each thrust pushes you forward a little bit, forcing your hair to pull in Eijirou’s unrelenting grip.

The blondes calloused palms starts to press down on your lower back, bending you further so he can thrust deeper. Your eyes shoot open, howling when his dick starts to rail your g spot. It feels like a lightening strike, radiating to your toes each time he hits it. The hand in your hair tightens and you hear the sharp intake of breath from Eijirou.

“Katsuki! Oh fuck! E-Eiji, please, let me - ah fuck,” you squeal, trying to get Eijirou to let you suck his cock. His dick is right in front of your face and you desperately want to feel him stretch your throat. The red head already knows what you’re asking because he immediately lets go of your hair. Your scalp tingles in relief and your neck cracks when you stretch it. Eijirou uses the hand on his shaft to rub the tip of his cock over your lips, precum smearing. You let your hands rest on his thighs, leaning your weight on him. Your mouth opens obediently, tongue hanging out.

“Shit baby girl,” Eijirou laughs. “I get to have two pretty people suck on my cock tonight. Yet, you’re the one who deserves to choke on it,” he grins, devilish look on his face. He guides his cock into your slick, warm mouth and you meet him halfway. Letting the heavy weight of him rest on your tongue as you wrap your lips around the middle of his shaft.

You groan, sending shockwaves through his groin and you give him a quick, harsh suck. He cries out, letting go of his cock and tilting his head back. He grips the sheets, trying not to let his fingers harden and rip the material. His hips jolt upwards, Katsukis thrusts push you forward and his tip hits the back of your throat. You gag, pulling your head back to suck on his tip. Katsuki growls from behind you, pressing on your lower back more, nails biting your skin.

“That’s so fucking hot. Choke on Eijis cock, pretty kitty. She sucking your cock well, baby?” he coos to Eijirou, panting, watching your head bob up and down. The red head lets out a pretty moan and Katsuki marvels at the pleasure taking over Eijirous face. It forces the knot in his belly to wind up tightly, his cock throbbing. Eijirou pants, chest flushed as he rests a hand on the back of your head to guide you. He looks into the blondes eyes. The contact sends pleasure sparking down both their spines. Eijirou runs his free hand through his hair, brushing the sweaty strands off his forehead.

“Hell yeah baby, she’s such a good cock sucker. She knows she’s made just for us,” he says breathlessly, eyeing the way the blondes abs flex with every thrust. You dig your nails into Eijirous thighs until he yelps lightly. You should’ve known he wouldn’t let you get away that. In a heartbeat, he rests both hands on the back of your head and he shoves you down until your nose is nestled in his dark pubes.

His cock presses past your uvula, into your throat. It stretches and burns. You can’t breathe, eyes starting to tear up. Spit trails down from the sides of your mouth to his balls and your jaw aches. You’re whining loudly, feeling the building sensation of your orgasm start to pool in your lower belly as Katsuki continues to fuck you.

Eijirou takes notice, resting a hand on your cheek. He’s merciful and he lets you up, his cock easily slipping from your mouth. You gasp, swallowing air to ease the burn in your lungs. Eijirous cock slaps against his lower belly, glistening from your saliva. You lean forward, resting your forehead on one of his thighs. You’re letting out little ah’s with every thrust. Pussy starting to flutter around Katsukis cock, orgasm climbing to a peak.

“You’re about to cum aren’t you pretty kitty? You want Kat to make your pussy feel so good?” the red head asks, cooing at you and running the backs of his knuckles over your cheek. You raise your head to look up at him, eyes glassy. Eijirou likes to watch your face when you cum and you’re almost there. Pleasure swelling to an unbearably hot degree. “Yes! Kat please! Make me cum, make me cum baby. I wanna feel you cum inside of me,” you call out to him, jaw clenched so tight your teeth creak. You hear the blonde moan throatily. You feel his hips smack harshly into yours and you wail. The blunt head of his cock is kissing your cervix when Katsuki crushes you beneath him.

He lets his weight press onto your lower back. Your knees are barely holding you up at this point. It’s as if the blonde is trying to shove you through the mattress. You find a way to rest your cheek on Eijirous thick thigh, looking up and making eye contact with him. You can barely hold back your orgasm.

“God, you want me to fill you up? Claim you and mark you? Shit, I bet you want Eiji to paint your face at the same time,” he says, voice wrecked. His body is flushed, sweat gathering on his forehead. Eijirou seems intrigued by the idea, but his ultimate goal is to cum in your sweet pussy after Katsuki does, giving you sloppy seconds. His cock twitches against his belly in anticipation. Your eyes start to roll back as you clench all the muscles in your belly.

“No, no, want Eiji to fill me up too,” you choke out. Your words make Eijirou burn with want. You can hear Katsukis smirk when he speaks.

“Really? You want to feel Eijirous sloppy seconds? Let him cream pie you,” he says mockingly. Your belly swirls dangerously, his tone of voice forcing you to the edge, toeing the line. His sinful mouth ultimately sends you over the edge, pussy clenching like a vice around Katsukis cock. Your hearing gets fuzzy as your orgasm bursts. It’s like a water balloon, filled to its limit. It pops and the warm pleasure gushes through you. Toes curling, fingers tingling. You’re silent as your mouth opens in scream.

Katsuki almost chokes on the feeling of your silky, slick pussy suffocating his cock. He’s huffing out little growls and his hips are stuttering as he works you through it until your cunt releases him. He slows down just a little, savoring the moment right before he orgasms. His groin is tightening, he knows he’s about to cum.

Eijirou is stroking his own dick quickly, trying not to paint your face as he watches you cum. Your eyelids flutter as you come back down from your high. Eijirou is still waiting for your answer. Your limbs feel gooey but you make sure to maintain eye contact with him as you respond.

“Y-yes, need both of you,” you moan lowly, voice wrecked. Eijirou bites his lower lip, squeezing the base of his cock so he doesn’t cum. Katsuki starts yanking you back into his movements, unable to stop rambling. He feels his balls start to tighten up.

“Nasty little bitch, needing both your boyfriends to fill your pussy with cum. Double stuff you, right kitty?” he says mockingly. Before you get the chance to respond, he’s shoving himself all the way to the root inside of you, cumming hard. Pleasurable heat tingles up his spine and he shivers. The movement makes you yelp as your face is shoved into Eijirous hip. Katsuki lets out a high pitched moan as he lets ribbons of sticky, warm cum fill your pussy. Your heart pounds. You whine, nosing at the red heads hip bone.

“Fuck Kat, you stuffed her nasty little pussy didn’t you?” Eijirou teases, petting your hair gently. He’s still hard, cock twitching in his grip. Katsuki snickers, smacking your ass once, before pulling his hips backwards. He lets his his half hard cock slip out of you. He places his thumbs on the outside of your pussy, spreading you open.

He admires his cum dripping from your cunt and he hums approvingly. He slides one thumb through your folds, bringing up to massage your clit with his release. You whimper as his finger presses into your swollen clit. He laughs at your reaction before he lets go, crawling to sit on the right side of Eijirou. You let your knees collapse, laying on your belly and stretching your legs. Your entire body feels relaxed.

“Of course I fucking did Eiji. We’re reminding her who she belongs to aren’t we? You better fill her pussy with your sloppy seconds,” he says, pinching the fat of Eijirous thigh. The red head laughs, patting your cheek to get your attention. You raise your head from his thigh humming softly. Despite their aggressiveness tonight, they both want to make sure you can keep going.

“Can you keep going baby girl?” Eijirou asks gently, running his fingers over your cheek. You nod, pussy already clenching again at the thought of Eijirous thick cock. He always feels unbelievable. He’s a little thicker than Katsuki, but the stretch is what your dreams are made of. Not that the blonde doesn’t fuck you just as well, he absolutely does. Plus, Eijirou is always easier to take after you’ve let Katsuki fuck the hell out of you.

“Can you get up for me pretty baby?” Eijirou asks, sitting up. You groan in protest, elbows cracking as you push to sit up on your knees. The blonde to your side grabs your jaw and turns you to him, kissing you once quickly on the lips. Your cheeks burn form his attention. He raises an eyebrow, smiling sharply. He doesn’t say anything when he lets go of your face and Eijirou wraps his arms around your shoulders and rolls you both, until he hovers over you, getting between your legs.

“Eijirou,” you moan, hands gripping the pillow under your head. The larger man, grins, showing his teeth again, before placing a palm on the underside of your thighs, pressing your legs backwards into your chest. You’re effectively pressed in half, Katsuki humming in approval as he watches.

“What nasty girl? You ready for me to double stuff you?” Eijirou teases, eyes full of mischief. You whimper and nod, tightening your hold on the pillow. Your pussy is open for him, Katsukis cum trailing out of you. His dick throbs, knowing he won’t last long once his cock is swallowed in your tight cunt. He inches closer, letting his cock head line up with your hole. He presses in slowly, letting just the tip pop in. He chokes on a breath, letting out a soft whimper as your pussy sucks him in.

“Keep going, please Eiji,” you sob, wiggling under him. He can’t say no to such a sweat plea. He pushes forward, hissing as his whole cock is swallowed by your slick pussy. It’s even wetter with Katsukis cum inside. Eijirou thinks he may pass out when he starts with a teasing pull of his hips backwards, until just his tip remains.

You’re twitching, moaning in his grip. He can see Katsukis cum coating his cock as he fucks it back into you. His mouth hangs open at the filthy, lewd sight. Even with his slow start, you can’t help but feel overstimulated. Your pussy is puffy, swollen and each time his cock fills you, you whimper.

“Eiji, closer please,” you cry, releasing the pillow and reaching your hands out to him. You hear Katsuki snort from where he lounges next to you. You see he’s palming his cock and you stick out your tongue at him. He smiles fondly at you and you can’t help but grab his wrist and tug him closer as well.

He goes easily, letting go of his half hard dick. He props himself up on one elbow so his face is just above yours. He looks down, sticking his tongue back at you and you giggle. You feel Eijirou hook your knees over your elbows so he can bend to you, planting a hand on either side of you shoulders. Your eyes widen at the change of angle. It feels like he’s in your stomach and you quickly look back at his face. “You just want both your boys close while you get fucked, don’t you baby girl?” Eijirou teases, nuzzling his nose with yours. You nod your head, crying out as he starts to fuck you again. This position lets his chubby cock bully your g spot beautifully.

Your nerves are on fire, flames of pleasure shoot to your toes with each thrust. You feel Katsukis soft lips pressing kisses into your cheek as he snakes the hand from the elbows he’s leaning on under your head. He grips your hair tightly to keep you in place. You’re starting to sweat, hands resting on Eijirous shoulders.

“I like having both my boys pay attention to me at the same time,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks turn pink. Your head jolts in Katsukis hold, scalp stinging as he holds your hair. You cry out, holding onto Eijirous forearms as he starts to thrust faster. They both seem to like the answer you give because Eijirou is leaning down to bite kisses into your chest, sharp teeth like pinpricks against your skin. Katsuki leans over you and presses his plush lips to yours.

You moan, kissing Katsuki messily, lips slick and tongues playing together. You groan into the blondes mouth when you feel Eijirou littering your chest with dark marks. You suck on Katsukis bottom lip, chomping on it harshly before letting go. The blonde breaks your kiss with a sweet moan. Your eyes are hooded, letting out little ah sounds over and over again as Eijirou fucks you. Katsuki admires your flushed cheeks, leaning down to lick the salty sweat off your collarbone. He moans at your taste. You inhale sharply, his warm tongue making your clit twitch.

“Fuck you’re hot, are you gonna cum again you nasty little bitch?” Katsuki teases, smirking down at you. Your eyes flutter shut, Eijirou is trailing kisses up to your neck. He kisses your pulse point and pants against your skin. His breath is hot. You wind your arms around his neck, holding him to your chest. He’s starting to get really close really fast. The hug of your sweet pussy is so fucking good and his balls start to tighten up, heat flaring at the base of his spine.

“Yes-fuck! I’m gonna, hah oh god, I’m gonna cum again,” you choke out, pussy fluttering around Eijirous thick cock. Katsuki uses his free hand to tickle your lower abdomen, placing two fingers on your puffy clit. You see stars when he rubs tight, fast circles into your bud, making your toes curl, thighs tensing. You curse loudly.

��Red,” Katsuki calls out softly. Said red head raises his head from your neck, giving Katsuki a dopey smile. You let go of his shoulders, gripping his forearms again instead. Katsuki pauses his fingers as he smirks, leaning closer to him and he slides their lips together. You whine in protest, Katsuki takes the hint, continuing to rub your clit.

Eijirou moans, kissing Katsuki hungrily. You watch them kiss, seeing quick flashes of their tongues, and it makes your pussy throb repeatedly around the red heads cock. The blonde kisses him once more before leaning back. Eijirous head falls forward. His hips smack into your ass wetly, steadily. You’re being pushed into the mattress again and again. You’re so close, coil wound tightly in your belly. Katsukis fingers rapidly bringing you to the edge.

“Fuck Kat, she really liked watching us kiss,” he groans, hips stuttering.

“I know, she’s such a pretty little whore,” he says, wicked grin on his lips. You can’t take it anymore, listening to the filth that leaves Katsukis mouth, it makes you cum. The knot in your belly releases. Your back arches, hair pulled to its limit in the blondes hold. Your nails dig into the flesh on Eijirous arms as your pussy suffocates him. You howl as your orgasm rips through you, entire body taut. Once again, an almost unbearable wave of pleasurable heat gushes through you.

Eijirou is enamored by your face. The way your mouth is open in a silent o shape, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He’s barely able to fuck you through it. He’s gasping and moaning, orgasm taking him by surprise. Blistering pleasure burns through his veins and he pushes his hips all the way up against your pussy as he suddenly cums warm, sticky ribbons.

“Fuck yes, that’s it kitty. Make Eiji cum with your pretty pussy,” Katsuki praises with a rough voice, taking his fingers from your clit as Eijirou cums. You open your eyes, looking at the red heads pretty face twisted in pleasure. You bring a hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to rest your foreheads together. You stare into each others eyes and you feel a warm, tender feeling blossom in your chest.

“I love you Eijirou,” you whisper, watching his cheeks turn pink. He moans, before biting his lip when his cock throbs once more as both of you relax into a pile of jelly and Eijirou lets your legs down. He sit back on his calves, breathing heavily.

“I love you too baby girl,” Eijirou purrs, pretty smile on his lips. You give him one in return, humming softly as Katsuki lets go of your hair. Head throbbing where his nails were digging in. You’re gonna have a headache later. You look over at Katsuki, who was palming his half hard cock. He smirks and winks at you. You know it wasn’t quite enough for him to jerk himself off again, but he enjoyed the show. Eijirou slips his softening cock from your pussy and you squirm at the sensation. Your cheeks burn as you feel like you’ve been bred.

“Mm, now you’re really double stuffed, like an Oreo!” Eijirou says, voice cheerful and a smile on his face. You and Katsuki look at each other, before you both laugh. Eijirou giggles in return, scooting backwards and sitting to the side. Katsuki takes the opportunity to get between your legs. He plants his hands by your head and hovers over you, grinning like a deviant.

You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t answer. He’s quick to snake his arms under your waist and roll both of you until you’re on top of him. You squeal when you’re suddenly up right. Feeling like the blood is rushing from your head. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You cling to him, arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Katsuki, what are you doing?” you gasp, as he grips your ass and stands up with you. You hug him tight and he smacks one of your ass cheeks as he starts walking you to the bathroom.

“We’re taking a shower dumbass. Just because Eiji and I reminded you who you belong to and stuffed you with cum, doesn’t mean I want it all over the bed. That’s disgusting,” he explains, as if you should’ve known. You roll your eyes and place your chin on his shoulder, looking at the red head and reaching out a hand to him.

“Eiji, come on baby,” you purr to him. His tail would be wagging if had one. He slides off the bed, bouncing up to the two of you.

“I’m right here pretty girl. I love you too Kat, just by the way,” he coos, smacking the blondes ass, which earns him an icy look. Katsuki grumbles an I love you back to Eijirou and you laugh, amused. The three of you make it into the bathroom. Katsuki sets you down on your soft, squishy bath mat. You wiggle your toes in the material as Eijirou turns on the water. You take your time, enjoying the warm water and letting them wash you clean. You wash Eijirous hair and massage Katsukis back. You all take the moment to soak up the post sex intimacy together. After, when you’re all in bed, whispering sweet nothings and more I love yous in the dark, in the middle of the night Eijirou rides Katsuki slow and sweet. The blonde has you sit on his face while you trade sticky, honey like kisses with Eijirou. You’re unbelievably glad you belong to them. Better yet, they belong to you as well. You end up back asleep in a pile, thanking your lucky stars you found one another. The last thing you hear are Katsukis soft snores as you drift off, dreaming in colors of yellow and red.

[wayslidecool]

arabic numerals ranked from worst to best by their potential as the lens in new year's glasses

#10: Seven (7)

seven is a very awkward number for a lot of things, and new year's glasses are no exception. its weird angular shape leaves no opening to put a lens in, and unlike the next entry, it's too wide to comfortably squeeze between lens in the second and fourth digits. and the impressive thing about 7 is that this is a number with plenty of writing variations, and yet i can't think of a single one that makes it an efficient lens! sorry 7. i think you're the best number for a rating scale, but that's about it.

#9: One (1)

the 2010s were a rough time for new year's glasses, huh? coming off the high of the 1990s and 2000s, people were determined to make the 2010s work, but that's a tall fucking order. the saving grace of 1, and the reason it's above 7, is that it's skinny enough that you can slide it between numbers and use the fourth digit of the year as the lens, but the fact you have to resort to that is only further evidence of how much 1 sucks at being the lens.

#8: Two (2)

two is definitely a tier above the previous two entries. it's an interesting and versatile enough shape that you can mess with it to try and make a viable spot for a lens, what with the upper loop and lower angle, but i feel no matter what you try, you always gotta make some concessions. like, you have enough to work with that a talented enough designer can make something that works, but usually the result is more "functional" than "good".

#7: Four (4)

now we're getting into numbers that could actually make for passable lenses. i mean, check it out! we have a closed loop here and everything, that has GOT to count for something! what makes me put four relatively low on the list is that with its right-triangle shape, i can't imagine it being a very comfortable shape for a lens, especially with how much ends up sticking out and downwards. still, a vast improvement over the previous three entries, even if it's basically just a worse 9.

#6: Five (5)

i feel like depending on what you prioritize in new year's glasses, these next two entries could end up going below the previous one, but personally, i think the not-closed round loop feels like a more practical spot for a lens than 4's closed-but-angular loop, y'know? so what if the loop isn't closed, it still mostly surrounds your eye, and feels generally passable to me. this is a number that wouldn't inspire the idea for new year's glasses, but certainly works now that the idea has been established.

#5: Three (3)

three is basically the same thing as 5, and i could even see some people putting it below 5, since 5's loop is a bit closer to being closed than either of 3's loops. that being said, 3's dual-loop is ultimately what gives it the edge to me. it ends up feeling more versatile to me. i feel the bottom loop is generally the correct choice, but just having the option of the top loop as well really helps it out. either way, after suffering through the 2010s and 2020s, i expect the 2030s to be a welcome breath of fresh air.

#4: Nine (9)

now we're getting to the really good ones. i mean, the 1990s are when the trend of new year's glasses started! if this number was good enough to kickstart the trend, then clearly it's a good number to put the lens in. having a closed round loop really goes a long way, it turns out! what puts 9 below the next three entries is the tail. having that swoop down towards your face feels like it'd be a bit uncomfortable, and this issue doesn't crop up with the next three entries. still, 9 is a trailblazer and its place in the New Year's Glasses Metagame needs to be respected.

#3: Six (6)

if 9's only issue is the tail getting all up in your face, then what better way to solve that then just turning it upside-down? it might just be me, put having it brush up against your forehead feels much, much less intrusive than having it brush up against your face. and plus, it can give the impression of a raised eyebrow! bonus! the 2030s-2050s are going to be a refreshing breath of fresh air following the awful new year's glasses of the 2010s and 2020s, but the 2060s are going to be a true new year's glasses renaissance.

#2: Eight (8)

hey, so remember how i put 3 above 5 since i felt the double loop made it a bit more versatile? well now imagine that, but both loops are closed. 8 makes for such a good lens, it's a little surprising we didn't see new year's glasses in the 1980s (i'm guessing having two of the same number is more inspiring than two different numbers?) either way, eight isn't content to give you just one closed loop. it'll give you a second closed loop right above. (or below!) 8 is a versatile number with many options, and i hope i can live to see the day we see it in new year's glasses. a true stand out in its field.

#1: Zero (0)

still, even with all the good years ahead, it's hard to ignore the fact that the best years are sadly behind us, with the 2000s being the absolute pinnacle of new year's glasses design. i mean, come on. a single loop with no frills is basically what glasses designs default to already, so using the middle two zeroes as the lens for glasses? impeccable design. the 1990s were good enough to kickstart the trend, but the 2000s were good enough to make us want to brute force the 2010s and 2020s. if that's not the mark of a good design, i don't know what is.

sadly, it's likely we'll never see design this good again. the next year with the middle two digits being two zeroes is 3000, and while we might be able to execute double-zero designs at the turn of each century, they'll end up looking weirdly lopsided in the process. i believe humans are hubristic enough to try and brute-force bad decades, but multiple bad centuries? forget about it.

oh well. happy new year

[what-even-is-thiss]

Quick and cheap filling vegetarian food (I’m going ovo-lacto for this)

Soup:

Dump some cans of stuff in a pot. Maybe some seasoning too. Pearl barley or rice may also be a good choice to bulk things out. With beans or legumes and some kind of grain you can make a whole protein. If that doesn’t appeal to you add some cheese or poached egg. Don’t add a lot of rice btw it will expand don’t turn your soup into a rice dish I swear to gosh

Quesadillas:

Basic idea for this is shredded cheese melted in between two tortillas warmed up on either side in a pan, in a microwave if you’re feeling extra depressed. But other stuff can be added. Salsa, pico, leftover tofu or beans, sliced peppers or onion. It’s a dish that’s as complicated or as simple as you want to make it.

Casseroles:

Dump a can of cream of mushroom or cream of potato soup on it. It’ll work itself out probably.

Scrambled eggs:

The most braindead way to cook eggs. You can even scramble them in the pan. Put stuff in it. I like putting fried tomatoes in it. Add enough mushrooms and cheese and you can feel your system clogging up in real time. Eat some toast with it to convince yourself that adding carbs makes it fine actually

Curry:

Wildly oversimplified term for basically most Indian food. It’s simpler to make than you think. The spices are the important part. The base of a lot of types of Indian food is onion, ginger, garlic, and tomato and then add spices and stuff to that. What stuff? Whatever. Spinach, potatoes, coconut milk, regular milk, even more tomatoes, lentils, beans, yogurt. Put it over rice probably. Use powdered onion and ginger-garlic paste and canned tomatoes when you’re tired. Probably look up some actual Indian YouTubers and bloggers to get more specific recipes than my stupid ass can provide.

Peanut noodles:

Cook some noodles. Probably ramen noodles. Melt some peanut butter on it and add soy sauce. Merry Christmas.

Melts:

Get a panini press so you never have to think again. Cheese, something else, bread, hot, eat. Add a sauce and some nicely grilled vegetables if you want to but tbh a midnight grilled cheese with tomato isn’t gonna be a gourmet meal. Just make it so you can finish crying.

Smoothie:

Frozen fruit and/or veggies and some kind of liquid. I usually use strawberry, mango, and soymilk. Maybe yogurt too idk. The worst part of this is cleaning the blender later but the actual process of making it is fast.

Pasta:

There’s more to life than just spaghetti and red sauce. Or so I’ve been told. You can use canned soups as a sauce sometimes if you reduce them a bit. I like butternut squash soup. Adding some cream cheese to sauces tastes better than it sounds and can fix your protein problem that you sometimes get with pasta dishes. Keeping a jar of pesto and some mushrooms in the fridge can make for a fast dinner when you need it.

Chili:

Get two different types of beans and some tomatoes and chili powder and whatever in a pot and let those bitches get to know each other and simmer while you stare off into space for a while. Maybe like 10-20 minutes idk it tastes good with sour cream

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett, ororo munroe, laura kinney, wanda wilson, wade wilson, kurt wagner, jean grey, scott summers (separate) x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ how they are when you are on your time of the month┊1k words

contains: some smutty topics for logan & jean, periods and all the complimentary side effects obviously because it’s so generous ahahahahaaaaaaaaa

➤ author's note: oh how i hate being a woman at times, if only some strong mutants could come to life and help ease the suffering…

let’s get this out of the way— yes, logan howlett can smell it and is able to tell when you’re on our period. in fact, he’s even able to sniff out the difference between the blood from menstruation and the blood from injuries. he’s been… “around the block” to put it lightly, he knows what you are going through, will be nice about it, and will use his experience to help care for you. he won’t be as sassy as he usually is even if you are a bit snappy, he’ll get extra food and put aside snacks for you, and he’ll give you as much or as little space as you want. also very willing to eat you out or cuddle-fuck you during it, being a little messy doesn’t faze him and he’s probably done nastier. 8/10, he’ll help you get through it without any complaint.

ororo munroe knows when your cycle is coming before you do, she keeps track of it and is on duty to take care of you the second you wake up with that uncomfortable feeling in your panties. she’s already inside the bathroom attached to your room running a warm bath completely with bath bombs and flower petals, ready to carry you into the water, and to strip your bedsheets for a wash if they get stained. there’s even a cute little wicker basket full of candies and drinks on your bedside with a stuffed animal she brought from target sitting on your bedside. it may seem excessive to some for something that happens every month, but she believes the effort is worth it if it means easing your pains. 10/10, she’s an angel descended from heaven in your eyes.

both of your dads are pretty useless (worst! logan is less knowledgeable than his original counterpart) on the topic and althea gives you a piece of chocolate at most, so you and laura kinney need to take care of each other when shark weeks come around. so many cuddles, kisses, and movie nights while snacking because cravings are a bitch. she’ll pat you on the back and rub your shoulders, muttering little “i know, princess, i know” as you whine. don’t even think of moving if you’re in a position like that, she’ll run around the house to get you pain relievers and a hot water bottle. 9/10, she’s such a wonderful girlfriend.

not sure why, but i feel like you and wanda wilson’s periods would sync a lot? anyhow, it’s a nightmare dealing with mood swings, cramps, and cravings all while taking care of babypool, so there’s a general rule not to take anything seriously during those days because you’re both sensitive and irritable. once it’s all over though, you’re back in each other’s arms and apologizing for anything that might have been said or done (nothing serious happened, it’s just something like “i’m sorry for saying that in an off tone and making you think i was mad at you”). 5/10, could be a lot better but the days afterward are kinda like honeymoon bliss again.

wade wilson is the biggest shit of them all, he definitely says “and that’s on period” every time he finds out, calls you his little ketchup bottle, sends you period cramp moodboards which are just poorly cropped photos of him in the deadpool suit doubled over in pain from a fight— however, he will make you laugh so hard you’ll cry and forget about the ache in your body. 2/10 in terms of helpfulness but 10/10 in terms of funny jokes and conversations. 

you’ll give poor kurt wagner a heart attack every time you whine out in pain and curl up on the couch, clutching onto your stomach and contorting about to find a comfortable position. despite the promises from yourself and everyone else that you will be fine as the aching feeling is temporary, he can’t help but bite his nails from worry. the suffering of people with a uterus will never cease to shock him, they really have to bleed freely like that for a few days every month? he will not leave you alone and is going to treat your every request like an order from royalty. anything you want, you get, and no amount of assurance is going to convince him he doesn’t have to do all that, so you might as well enjoy it while you’re moody and suffering. 

jean grey is one of those people who just don’t have period cramps and still glows despite it all which you are so fucking jealous of. that being said, she’s the best person to be around when it hits. since she’s basically the mansion’s school nurse, she always has snacks, water, pads/tampons of every variety, and pain relievers on hand with so much bounty that she never seems to run out. as your girlfriend, she’s also willing to be a bit sneaky and write you a doctor’s note to get you out of classes regardless of if you are a teacher or a student. she’s also down to fuck even if you’re on your period since she knows orgasms are proven to lessen the pain and she’ll also massage your tits if they are feeling tender (and because she likes your chest no matter the size). 9/10, she can be a bit busy at times but is perfect aside from that.

please hold hands with scott summers and go with him when picking out pads/tampons, he will get overwhelmed by the amount of options and panic buy one of everything. what are wings? liners? what’s the difference between yellow and green, is it lemon or lime? he might forget that you’re more sensitive during these times and slip a comment into a conversation that would make you cry when it usually makes you laugh, but he’ll remind you to stay hydrated, will go out of his way to buy you brownies from your favorite bakery, and will smother you in cuddles. 

[ajortga]

asleep

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 800+

summary: after many horror movies, wednesday is there to comfort your fears at night. maybe she should've toned down on the 7 gory movies.

based off my spooktober request!

- Can I request "You still can't sleep? Was it because of that scary movie? Come here." with Wednesday Addams? Like- she made reader watch a bunch of horror movies or terrifying true story movies/documentaries. <3

-

You hated horror movies. 

It was something Wednesday Addams knew not too long before you two started dating.

She didn’t even know how she could be with someone who didn’t like basically what her whole entire persona was. 

Wednesday would solve cases of the Hyde, dragging you along with her, not knowing you were seriously freaked out.

Now that Halloween was coming, it was no doubt that Jericho turned into the time of year the goth loved the most. Oh how she loved sneaking spiders into students backpacks and hearing them scream.

You and Wednesday were in your dorms, the windows foggy and room dim. The walls were plastered with evidence boards of the Hyde’s existence.

“I think you should probably tune out on this one,” your girlfriend mumbles as she plays with the remote. “I’m gonna watch some documentaries so I can try and solve this case better with whatever they do.”

To say the least, you were clingy. 

“No.. I’m staying here with you,” you argue, sinking deeper into the bed.

Fighting you was useless. No matter what you would leave feeling happy. So Wednesday sighed, putting your head to your chest, “Just don’t look, okay?”

You stayed with her word for the first 10 minutes, sleepy and not really responding. That was until you started to focus on what she was watching.

And oh god, you wished you hadn’t.

At first it seemed fine, you were more focused on Wednesday’s concentrated look. But then the next thing you knew, you both were watching it.

You had never seen so much blood in a movie before. It made you nauseous. Yet when Wednesday looked to see if you were doing okay, you looked like you were unfazed. So she switched it to one of her all time favorite horror movies.

It was even worse than the crime documentaries. How could one enjoy so much gore? Well, you had to take that back since there was one you were literally attached against, but what the hell.

As you heard disgusting killing noises, you were terrified. 

..

At this point, Wednesday had watched 4 horror movies, the next one worst than before.

You couldn’t do this anymore, it was dark, it was near Halloween. The next thing she knew, Wednesday saw your scared figure tugging on her sleeve, a sign for her to turn the TV off immediately.

“Are you okay?” The braided girl asked, your nod doesn’t give her any sign because you’re shaking against her. Maybe she should’ve been more respectful to your horror level of movies. She was a little too intense with these kinds of movies, after all.

“Come on, let’s give you a hot shower and go to bed.”

-

Wednesday was woken up with you shifting. It was nearly 1AM and every time she had woken up, she would see you staring at the ceiling, away from the door and to the window that was giving the only source of light.

You were quiet during the shower, like you were staring through things. 

Wednesday, now with her black hair down, played with yours. Usually it was the best charm to make you fall asleep within minutes. She usually wasn’t the person to be affectionate and touchy at night when sleeping. But after 10, you were still awake, heartbeat erratic.

God, there was even this one scene where a monster popped out from the closet. And your closets were right in front of the bed, making you more restless.

“Oh Y/N, you still can’t sleep?” Wednesday asks softly, breaking the silence. “Was it because of that scary movie?”

When you nodded, Wednesday made a sound of pity, and after moments of contemplating, she shifted you so you could face her. Then she opened her arms, “Come on.”

Immediately you crawled into her, and she could feel the thump thump thump of your heart against her chest. 

She didn’t know horror movies made you that terrified. She thought that she herself was already a horrifying person.

“Are you okay?” Wednesday asked after a few moments of silence. “I will admit the thought of your extent of horror movies slipped out of my mind.” She admitted. For a few moments, she’s quiet, before adding, “I’m sorry, I’ll try not to do that again.”

The raven haired girl played with your hair for a moment, “What can I do to make you feel better? I’m not letting you not sleep, that’s usually my role.” She adds, her brown irises looking into yours.

“This is good,” you murmur, keeping close to her as she holds you. Because how could any creature pop up and grab you if your girlfriend is a warrior? She’d kill all of them before they could get to you.

The first few minutes, you were still awake. Which made her worried, holding you tighter, before humming a lullaby her mother used to sing to her.

She sung quietly in Spanish, toying with your hair, looking into the night sky.

After a few minutes, Wednesday, sniffs your hair, your heart beats slow and steady. She liked having that effect on you, knowing that she was the only one that could comfort you to sleep as quickly in the blink of an eye.

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[kitashousewife]

“so, what was it this time?”

“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.

eating your chips.

“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.

“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”

you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.

“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.

“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.

“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”

osamu nods, seemingly unamused.

“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”

“business man?”

“actor.”

osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”

“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“

“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”

“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”

you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.

tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.

truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”

you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”

osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.

“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.

“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”

he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”

you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.

“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”

he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.

“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

[theastrical]

their reaction when you’re sick.

genshin men reaction when you’re sick.

kaeya/diluc/childe x reader

note: hmmm i don’t know what i write

Kaeya’s reaction when you’re sick.

“hey what’s wrong? you barely talk or even move, anything you wanna share? moodswings?..”, his voice soft, mellow, something you can listen throughout even when you’re asleep.

kaeya is the type of person to be worried in the inside, he can keep his calm which is a good thing, but it kept you wonderingr, “does this man actually love me or is he good at hiding it?”. So when you’re sick, he keep his calm. He buys you medicines and leave for work. Although he seemingly left work early just to take care of you.

He would feed you meals, very slowly just incase you can’t keep up with your usual pace. Silently would observe your behaviour from afar, making sure you’re not consuming anything that would make you much more sick. He would hide your snacks and instant noodles, your sodas or bubble tea. He would also limit your social media screen time by going through your phone, cause you always play with your socials instead of resting. Anything possibly distracting your resting hours is a NO for this man, kaeya only wants you to rest, rest and rest.

The medicines he bought are various, either a herbal tradition medicine he bought from a liyue merchant, a modern capsule of paracetamol, or his hand-made herbal medicines. He made it so bitter that you could easily puke and he would feed the whole thing onto your throat so choking is an understandable respond. somehow his medicine works on you 10 times better than the others though. “My hands are definitely meant for this line of work, also for your recovery..hehe..”

Diluc’s reaction when you’re sick.

“you’re sick again..?”, a silent murmur he made when he saw how weak you are currently.

immediately knows when you’re sick, since he could remember any symptoms that you’ve occurred before. This is something he must remember (he thinks), since he doesn’t want to repeat another same-page of history. So when you’re sick, he didn’t panic, instead, he would let the professionals do the work instead of him, avoiding the worst possibility when he’s the one in charge.

would checked up on you every hour by touching your forehead, caressing your hands, or holding onto your hands. His touch is delicate, like a soft cloud scheming through your skin, not with his leather gloves, just the simple touch of his hands. It makes it hard to resist since diluc’s caresses are addictive, and at some point, you would find yourself waking up in the middle of the night just to search for his touch. “i’m right here…you’re cold..?”, then he would cuddle you, stroking your hair, and kisses your forehead.

when you recover, he would take you out to a fancy dinner, treating you for being good while having to endure bitter medicines or food you don’t even like just to survive another day. He spoils you with gifts and foods that you can’t eat when you’re still sick, it cost thousands of moras but it’s all worth it, at least for the sake to keep his beloved happy.

Childe’s reaction when you’re sick

“you’re not okay, let me help you.”, he would kissed your cheeks afterwards, to let you know that he’s here for you.

He can recognise your sickness just by seeing your pale demeanour and stiff body which is to him, is very visible (you don’t even remember how you usually look like before so he’s insane for that). he would checked it once more by touching your forehead or observing your body response overall, if his observation list are all check-listed then you are indeed sick. He turns into a full time caregiver, he has many job experiences, therefore entrusting yourself to this man is a good choice. In his mind, his number one priority is you, hence he would abandon his duty to take care of you until you fully recover.

He would cook a meal that can compete over 5 stars restaurant. It’s so tasty it’s insane that he made it with his own hands. The food is undeniably healthy, it’s only made with organic ingredients that he picked up from the local farmers, no preservative or artificial ingredients, all made with love using his own groceries. The food doesn’t taste bland, in fact it’s very flavourful, the food itself is already a medicine for his beloved since it consist herbs to strengthen the immune system. He would feed you, wipe your mouth, even help you drink the juice he made to make the recovery process bearable.

The medicines he picked are those that are meant for children but can be consumed for adults too, not capsules, but syrups. So you won’t be able to resist consuming since it doesn’t taste bitter. At some point he would bought the chinese herbs that are strong at taste..but he made the chinese herbs into food instead so it wouldn’t burden your tongue. The recovery speed is steady and fast, his way of making you heal is effectively acclaimed by his brothers and sisters. After every medicine or food you eat, he would kiss your hand and carry you to bed again, covering you with a blanket and help you sleep. Singing a lullaby for you and makes sure that his company helps your heart relaxes.

“rest well, i’m here.”

taglist: @dailypenpen , @daydreaming-paradies

[wordsbyrian]

Surgeries and Surprises - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: "Skater!R gets injured", "Skater!R skates in XGames", "IDK but more Skater!R"

A/n: Look, I finally wrote a thing you guys! From multiple request for more Skater!R

Despite popular belief, skateboarding is an incredibly multifaceted activity.

There are so many different disciplines: street, vert, park, freestyle, downhill (and its variation street luge), and cruising.

For the first four, there are different competitions that skaters can compete in if they are so inclined. And in all honesty, you are usually not inclined to compete, preferring the unpredictable nature of actual street skating to the polished finish of comps like Street League, XGames, and Dew Tour.

But the chance to be one of the first skateboarders to compete in the Olympics.

Well, that’s not really something you can pass up on.

Which is why you’re skating in your 5th comp of the summer.

Not the worst schedule but you’re an idiot and made the choice to also try and get clips for your next video parts in your very limited free time.

Free time, that was only made more limited by the way you were constantly flying back and forth to France to support your wife in the World Cup.

All of this is to say that your body is currently going through it.

And, unluckily, it’ll keep going through it because XGames comps are not set up in a way that plays to your strengths, with only three 45 seconds runs to string together a line and show the judges what you can do.

Luckily, on the other hand, your flight out of Minneapolis is booked for immediately after the contest ends.

Your first two timed runs went pretty well but you know you can do better which is why you saved your best stuff for your final run.

And for the most part, your final run goes pretty well until you get to your last trick with 10 seconds remaining.

You had planned it out perfectly so that you had enough time to take a breath before giving it a go. A necessary precaution for a trick you're familiar with but not a master at, a frontside flip noseslide to fakie, especially since you’re trying it down the biggest obstacle, the 4-block rail.

A little homage to Reynolds, something you’ve been doing throughout the contest season.

Except there are a couple of problems.

The first is that, unlike Reynolds, you are not a master of the frontside flip.

The other is that after a long day of being skated by just about everyone, the rail had picked up the wax from everyone’s boards, making it slicker than you need it to be for your noseslide.

Which is why you aren’t very surprised when you hit the ground. The only surprising thing is how much it hurts.

You immediately roll over and begin to stand up and take a few steps, only to drop to one knee after barely making it anywhere.

As you try to gather the strength to stand again, you’re stopped by someone placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay down, Y/N/N.” It’s Reynolds. “You just used your head as a basketball and your arm is fucked. They’re bringing out a stretcher.”

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get up again. “I don’t need a stretcher.”

His hand gets firmer and you feel him pushing you to sit down properly.

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your boss. You need to go to the hospital, your shit is fucked.”

It’s at this moment that you realize how quiet the arena is.

It’s almost as if you can hear the individualized breaths of everyone in the building and honestly, it's making your head pound in a way that you wish you weren’t familiar with.

Then you see the EmTs rolling the stretcher towards you.

“Fuck dude,” you groan, resigning yourself to your fate. “Just don’t call Alex, man, she’s gonna freak out.”

“It’s too late, she already texted me she’s trying to get on the next flight out.”

“Shit.”

The entire process of letting the EMTs do their jobs is a hassle because it’s painfully obvious that they don’t deal with skateboarders often. And it takes a lot of convincing for you to even let them strap you to the backboard.

Your memory blurs out a bit after that.

The only thing you really remember besides waking up in the hospital is telling Reynolds to make sure that they don’t give you anything stronger than a Tylenol (that didn’t happen).

When you regain consciousness it’s to the sound of voices, two you recognize and one you don’t.

“She should be coming out of the anesthesia soon,” the recognizable voice says, a doctor maybe. “In addition to her mild concussion, there were some moderate tears to her deltoid that were repaired in surgery. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the fractures to the humeral head as we can’t cast the area.”

“She’s not going to like the sound of that,” you hear Alex say, “Not going to like that at all.”

“Unfortunately, whether she likes it or not doesn’t really matter. She needs to be in the sling for a few weeks at least,” the doctor says.

“Alright, thanks doc,” Reynolds' loud voice makes the headache you forgot you had worse. “Don’t worry Alex, she’s been through worse. Besides, the medal will make her feel better.”

“Not now Andrew.”

The door to your room opens a tiny bit and through squinted eyes, you watch as both your wife and mentor slip through the crack, closing the door behind them.

When they get close enough that you can make out the details on their faces, you stick your hand out to Alex and attempt to pull her into the hospital bed with you.

She doesn’t let you though and instead releases your hand to pull the only chair closer to the bed.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I told Andrew to tell you that you didn’t need to come all the way out here. You should be at home resting,” you tell her.

“And I told him that I was already on my way to the airport.”

“And I told you,” Reynolds says, frowning at you, “that I wasn’t going to risk having your wife mad at me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Now here’s your medal, silver’s not too bad considering you knocked yourself out,” he says, placing the item on the edge of the bed. “I’ll see you around bro.”

Both you and Alex watch as he quickly exits the room, moving sort of like his ass is on fire, and leaving the two of you alone.

The second the door fully shuts behind him you turn back to Alex and see more than her sigh deeply.

“How do you feel…”

“Why weren’t you…”

You both try to speak at the same time.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her.

“Well, first of all, were you just about to ask how I’m feeling while you are literally laying in a hospital bed,” she asks.

You shrug somewhat sheepishly and say, “I mean you just flew halfway across the country and I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

“Y/N/N, you’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes at you, “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet? You can only smash your head so many times before the damage is irreversible and I don’t like constantly being called to hospitals wondering if this time is the one.”

You take a second to let her words sink in.

She’s right.

Ever since the two of you reconnected and subsequently got together roughly 4 years ago, you’ve been injured quite a bit.

This is your 3rd concussion and 4th broken. You’ve also ruptured your achilles, cracked a few ribs, had one of your lungs collapse, and gotten over 50 stitches from various gashes gained from getting cut open skating some sketchy spots.

That’s not even counting the smaller ones that you haven’t told her about, like when you sprained your ankle visiting her during the Rio Olympics.

But admitting that Alex is right has never been something you’re great at.

So instead you just scoot over in the bed and ask her to lay down with you again.

It takes a bit of pleading but you do get her to join you and when she does, you’re quick to wiggle around into a position that's comfortable but still allows you to hold her.

With the knowledge that your current position makes it impossible for her to see your face, you can’t help but crack a joke.

“C'mon, babe, you know that helmets are for hills and hills only,” you say, finally answering her question, only to immediately recoil as she pinches you. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know I really freaked you out today and I hate that I keep forcing you to come see me in hospitals. And I…” she cuts you off.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she protests, keeping her voice light. “I love you even though you seem dead set on destroying your body.”

“It’s not really on purpose,” you say, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes when I skate it’s like an out-of-body experience. Nothing matters except how good it’s gonna feel when I roll away. I can barely even think straight when I’m on my board but that obviously means I don’t think about how my choices affect others and that’s not fair to you.”

When you finish speaking, the first thing you hear from your wife is a sigh that can only be described as annoyed.

“What,” you ask.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.”

“Babe,” your voice is indignant, and too loud even to your own ears.

“I’m sorry but you’re so dumb,” she says. “I’m not concerned because of how it affects me, I care about how it affects you. You’ve been acting strangely all summer and I don’t really want to see where this path takes you.”

Once again Alex is right.

And her pointing out your recent odd behavior, something you hadn’t noticed yourself, is like a bucket of ice water over your head.

Taking a deep breath, you nod even though she can’t see you and say, “I think I need to call my sponsor.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, between your concussion and having to travel back to Orlando, the call to your sponsor had to wait a few days.

And in those few days, you begin to really notice the behaviors Alex had mentioned.

Even before your injury, you were stressed and anxious but you had ignored it, believing it was tied to the comps and upcoming deadlines.

But now with those things mostly out of the way, the intensity of these feelings is familiar and you aren’t very fond of the places you ended up the last few times you felt like this.

And the isolation of being trapped at home, unable to do much more than stare at the walls and wait for Alex to get back from training, only made those feelings stronger.

When you’re finally able to make that call and the first words finally come out of your mouth, it’s as though the weight of the world comes off your shoulders.

Recovery isn’t an instant process but you do instantly feel a little better as you explain your recent behaviors that you now recognize as somewhat erratic.

And when the call ends, you have a list of dates, times, and locations so you can go to a meeting whenever you need to.

The only thing that's really left for you to do is talk to your wife when she gets home but that might be the hardest part.

So you wait, completing as many boring household tasks as you can to make the time pass more quickly.

It doesn’t really work that well because you only have one arm to work with. And you're just unlucky enough that it's your dominant hand out of commission.

You’re in the middle of unloading the dishwasher when you hear the front door open and shut.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to find you and in the back of your mind, you know that the only reason she didn’t shout your name across the house like she normally does is because of your lingering headache.

“Hey babe,” you hear her greet as you bend over to place a pot in its designated cabinet.

“Hi,” you respond, standing back up and turning to face her, only to see that she’s already taken a seat at the island. “Oh, that’s the serious conversation chair,” you note, going to lean on the counter opposite her.

“I mean it is serious but it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, do you mind if I go first,” you ask, “Mine isn’t bad either but I finally got around to giving Noah a call.”

When you say that it's almost as though you can feel the energy in the room shift.

“How did that go?”

“It definitely went.”

“Are you going to elaborate or…”

Sighing deeply, you shuffle your feet, focusing on the way your socks slip over the tile.

“Apparently, when you’re really stressed and overly tired your brain chemistry changes,” you tell her, now looking up at the ceiling. “Which makes people look for things to relieve the stress, which can be a bad thing for addicts. And between the video parts, qualifiers, and flying all over the place, I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and think, much less attend a meeting. But now, when I would’ve had a chance to, I can barely be in a room with lights on for more than 15 minutes.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex responds and as it passes, you can feel your heart sink further and further into your stomach. This is the moment that she finally decides that being with you is far more work than it's worth.

Your downward spiral is broken by the sound of her voice.

“I guess that means that we have to come up with ways for you to handle stress when you're busy,” Alex says, “because you’re only about to get busier.”

“What? No, I’m not, the next two competitions are at the end of the month and I literally can’t skate for the next month and a half.”

“3 months,” she shoots back, “and yes you will.”

“You’re not making any sense Alex.”

Alex gets up from her seat and makes her way toward you. Before you know it, she’s reaching out for your good hand, which to this point has had a death grip on the counter behind you, not that you’ve noticed.

With a confused look on your face, you watch as she pulls your hand to rest against her stomach before covering it with both of her own.

Still confused, it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out why she would do that.

It’s only when you remember the seemingly never-ending nausea Alex has been dealing with that you connect the dots.

“Oh shit.”

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 10

Part 10:

Art wanted to die. There’s no other way to describe what he had been feeling for the last three days. He hadn’t seen Liana anywhere. Not in the cafeteria, not outside her lectures, not outside the dorms.

He considered entering her room with the key he had, but he knew she would demand it back, and he clung to that key like it was his lifeline. He knew it was his last access to her life at the moment.

Art knew everything he said was a mistake from the second he said those things. To be honest, Art doesn’t remember what he said exactly. He just knows that Liana’s expression changed in minutes from humiliated, to sad, to disgusted, to angry. He knows he made her cry. He made her sob. Liana. The same Liana who, when she entered his room, he asked if she had been crying. When she left his room, he was the reason she cried.

He didn’t know how to come back from this. He didn’t know what to do or who to call or how to start breathing regularly again.

“You’re playing like shit,” he heard Tashi’s voice from afar and lifted his head. “Bad day,” he mumbled and forced a smile. “A bad day isn’t four balls in a row hitting the net. What happened?” she approached him, examining him.

“Nothing, Tash,” he sighed, “Can’t I have a bad day with a few balls not making it over the net?” he rolled his eyes. He said something to Liana about Tashi. And now, looking at her, trying to remember what he said; It couldn’t be anything good. It must have been something awful because the speed at which she distanced herself from him and the look she had would be etched in his mind forever. Why doesn’t he remember what he said? How is she supposed to believe he’s sorry if he doesn’t remember what he said?

“Do you want to play a set?” she asked, and usually, he would jump at the chance to play with Tashi, but it was already the time Liana was supposed to go to her lecture, and maybe today she would leave her room. “No, I think I’m done for today. It can't get any better from here. I need to shower. Good to see you.” He gave her a light touch on the shoulder and headed to the locker rooms. Liana would've definitely noticed that his smile was fake. He stood in front of her room as the door opened. If he thought he looked awful, Liana looked devastating. She looked like she hadn't slept for a month, like she had cried half her life. Her face was swollen, her eyes were red, and dark circles surrounded them.

Her mouth was half open as she looked at him. Both of them tensed, standing in place, unable to speak. “Li…” he started, seeing her begin to breathe heavily in response. “Can we tal-” he needs to make it right. He knows he can make her feel better if she lets him. “You have some nerve,” she mumbled, turning to lock the door, but he knew it was an excuse not to look at him. He knew if he could make her look at him long enough, he could get her to talk to him. He could manage to apologize. “Liana, please.” His voice was weak, begging for attention.

She started walking quickly, and he followed her, keeping pace. “I need us to talk, Liana. Please. It’s me. Give me five minutes. Li-” he spoke, and she stopped abruptly. “Did I stutter when I said you’re the worst person I know, and I never want to see you again?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears that would fall if she just blinked. He knew it was from anger and frustration. Art closed his eyes and swallowed, taking a breath. Her words cut him like a knife. “I know-” he started again.

“Arthur,” she paused for a moment, studying him. He hoped she saw the immense suffering he was in. How sorry he was. That he didn’t mean it. That he needed her in his life. That he might lose himself entirely if she wasn’t a part of him. “Right now, I’m in mourning. As far as I’m concerned, I’m sitting Shiva for you because you’re dead.” She looked at him, still not blinking, not allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of him again. “Do you want me to beg? I can beg.” His voice was weak again. He felt the tightness that comes before tears start to flow. “Unlike someone I know, I don’t get off on humiliating others. Enjoy your life, Art. I hope you get everything you want as long as I’m not part of it.” She concluded the conversation and walked away. He didn’t continue following her, feeling all his internal organs shrink at the sight of her moving away. And maybe she’s right; Maybe he’s really already dead, and this is hell.

The month since the phone call with Liana passed slowly for Patrick. He wasn’t functioning properly. There was a tournament he only made it through two rounds of, and Liana wasn’t answering his calls. For his part, he wasn’t answering Art’s calls. Not that Art called much. About three times, then he probably got the hint. Patrick had nothing to say to him.

Liana called that night and sounded in the worst state he had ever heard her. Worse than that time she broke her arm in the summer at age 15 when they were riding bikes. And that says a lot because her pain threshold is quite high, and if Art managed to make her react like that, he must have done something terrible.

Liana didn’t tell him in that call what Art did, and when Patrick asked if she wanted him to come to her (he really meant dropping everything and going to Stanford), she said she’d rather he didn’t.

So, a month later, with a free weekend, Patrick found himself wandering around Stanford with a bag containing a racket and some clothes. 'If you arrive early, ask Art for the key he has; maybe he’ll give it to you,' she texted him, and he could almost hear her voice through the screen. Broken. Art Donaldson, his best friend, broke her. He wasn’t sure he could look him in the eyes again.

“What are you doing here?” Tashi’s voice sounded from behind him. They hadn’t talked since the fight in her room a few months ago. “Looking for Art, actually…” he mumbled, lowering his gaze to her knee, “Sorry about the injury.” He didn’t know what to say, and she just shrugged.

She looked small and almost fragile. Something in her gaze was shattered. “Yeah, bad move.” She swallowed. Tried to be strong about it. The truth is, he read about it in a sports magazine and wanted to call but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to help from afar, and he didn’t know if Tashi wanted his help. “What do the doctors say?” he asked as she sat on the bench in the stands, looking at him and expecting him to do the same. “That time will tell? And we need to see how the physiotherapy goes.” She smiled, but her smile was fake; he saw the sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide it much.

“I’m sorry, Tash.” Patrick sighed. He really didn’t know how to help. “Art was amazing through all of this. He really helped me.” She examined Patrick and his reaction. “I’m glad he was here.” He said sincerely. He knew that when Art wanted to dedicate himself to someone, he did it in the best possible way.

“I’m sorry for how it ended between us, you know that, right?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. “Yeah, Patrick, I know.” She almost rolled her eyes. “Are you going to fix what he broke?” she asked, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “There’s a shift in his behavior. I don’t know what happened, but something in him changed. He doesn’t talk about you or Liana anymore. It’s a bit weird considering how much time he used to dedicate to both of you.” She said, as if reading his confusion.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to fix what he did, Tash.” He sighed. “Time will tell?” she asked, repeating what her physiotherapist said, and they both knew it probably wasn’t true.

Art waved hesitantly from afar, causing Patrick to nod and get up. “I’m sorry, Tashi. Really. You can call me if you need anything, you know that, right?” he asked. “I won’t do that.” She rolled her eyes, “But thanks,” she concluded the conversation for him.

“Hey.” Art said and quickly ran a hand over his neck. “What’s up?” Patrick asked relatively coldly. They hadn’t talked for a month, the longest they hadn’t spoken since they were 12. For a moment, it felt like talking to a stranger. “Why are you here?” Art asked, skipping the small talk and looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze. Trying to figure out if this was a friendly visit or if he needed to prepare for a battle he didn’t get an advance invitation to.

“I don’t know how to say this, Art,” Patrick mumbled. “Then don’t say it, Patrick,” Art rolled his eyes in response. He felt his heart racing. He realized he was about to lose Patrick.

“Art, come on,” “This is between me and her, Patrick. It doesn’t have to be between us too.” Art said, almost begging. “I need the key to Liana’s room.” Patrick sighed quietly. “Fuck off.” Art started to walk away, showing him a middle finger and laughing a laugh that sounded almost deranged. “Tell Liana if she wants the key her father gave me, all she has to do is come to me and ask.” With that, he left the court, leaving Patrick alone. Well, with Tashi as an audience in the stands.

"So, I guess the key thing didn't work out?" Patrick was sitting in the hallway across from Liana's room, absorbed in his phone, when he heard her voice. Almost amused. Almost like he remembered her. He stood up quickly, scrutinizing her, wanting to see every part of the girl he remembered. To see that she was whole. To see that she wasn't broken.

"I'm fine, Patrick. You can hug me," she rolled her eyes, and he did just that. He hugged her and refused to let go, closing his eyes and inhaling her intoxicating scent. He hadn't realized how much he missed her in the month she barely communicated with him. He didn't understand how much he worried about her until he laid eyes on her.

"Do you want to come in, or are we going to stand like weirdos in the hallway a bit longer?" she asked. "You're mean," he responded and pulled away from her. Not too much. Just enough so they could enter, and he could hug her again.

"Hey," he said once they were inside and he pulled away from her for the second time. He examined her again. She looked tired. Not different from how she looked the last time he saw her. But that time, she had a spark. That time, Art's hand was on her thigh in front of him. That time, he played a part in breaking her. She would never know, but Patrick did it. Patrick caused Art to behave like a wounded animal. Patrick knew exactly what he was doing. He threw him a bone, and Art couldn't resist; he had to ruin everything.

"We have to go to his game tomorrow," she said after they sat quietly on her bed for a few minutes. "What?" he asked, looking at her. "His parents will be there. They know there was something between us, but they don't know we're not talking. And it's already too many changes with me leaving and all. I have to be there, and now that you're here, you have to come with me." She smiled at him. He knew it wasn't a genuine smile. He knew if he didn't go with her, she'd feel even more fragile.

Patrick knew Art. Patrick knew Art even better than Liana. He knew Art lived for opportunities like the one he'd have tomorrow. Liana had to come to his game, sit with his parents, be disciplined, and meet the standards their families held for her. Art was born to exploit opportunities like these.

"Okay. We'll go, and at the end of his game, we'll come up with an excuse. Something about you having an exam, and we have to leave." His arm was around her as she leaned on his shoulder. "What did he say when you asked him for the key?" Liana asked. "Amanda," Patrick sighed. "Just tell me." "That if you want it, you should ask him yourself," he told the truth and felt her nod. "Do you want that key so badly?" he asked, looking at her again. "No. He can choke on it for all I care," she shrugged, but the smile she gave him was fake.

"Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm crazy and a stalker?" Patrick began the conversation for which he came. He moved away from her a bit, sitting across from her. He needed to see every expression. Every facial change. He needed to understand if she was telling him the truth. "You're scaring me, Patrick Zwieg. Come on, say what you have to say. Did you put a camera in the Stanford bathrooms?" she joked, making him give her a light slap on the shoulder. "Be serious," he commanded, and she nodded in response, removing any hint of humor from her face.

"My parents changed their minds about tennis," he said, and her eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, her smile starting to widen. She was happy for him. She knew that to succeed, he needed their support. "They gave me a five-year plan. They said I need to take some business courses twice a week. The rest of the days, they’ll fund an apartment, a coach, and tournaments," he continued explaining to her.

"Patrick, that's wonderful. That's great news. I'm so happy for you." She was ecstatic. He saw it on her. It was a joy that couldn't be faked. The kind that made him smile too. "Now for the creepy part. Don't hate me, okay, Li? Because I see how you get when you hate Art, and I don't want to be that person-" he started rambling. "You would never treat me the way Art treated me," she interrupted him. He saw her jaw tighten. Realizing that was a bad example. "They know someone who knows Kirk Morcich, and he saw videos of me and said I have potential..." He saw she was losing him, not understanding what he was talking about and why he was rambling incoherently, "It's in London. I'll be in London." He concluded. Watching her expression.

You can say many things about Liana, but she doesn't know how to hide what she feels. Her emotions always go a step ahead of her. She wears them on her face like a parade of shame. Blushing too easily, shaking when angry, crying immediately when hurt. She can't lie about feelings. Either she feels them, or they're not there. "Are you serious?" she asked, her eyes starting to sparkle. She wouldn't be alone. Patrick would be with her. So many possibilities. "Tell me it's a good thing and you don't hate me," he said, completely nervous. "Pat, this is the best news I've heard in the past month. I could kiss you," she said and jumped on him in a hug. For the first time in a month, Liana was happy.

Art’s parents recognized them in the middle of their conversation with, well, Art. "Liana, you even look more grown-up. I can't believe you're leaving us like this," Christine, his mother, pulled her into a hug without a second thought. "Mom, let her breathe..." Art said. There was no visible discomfort on him. He was acting as usual. "How are you, sweetheart? Are you eating properly? You look thinner!" she examined her from all angles. "Are you taking care of her?" she turned to her son, who swallowed nervously, unsure how to approach the situation. "Everything's great, Christine. I'm eating all the time," she smiled. Both Art and Patrick knew it was a fake smile. A smile that looked like she had practiced it in front of a mirror. One that revealed teeth but didn't characterize her.

"Unfortunately, we probably won't be able to stay for the game. I just wanted to say hello and wish you good luck," Liana didn't look at Art at all, just glanced at him and saw his fingers moving uncontrollably. "Why, honey? We wanted you both to have dinner with us afterward. To catch up. I'll tell you about all the places in London where you can go and feel surrounded by Americans, so you won't be alone for a moment," his mother was lovely. She really loved Liana as if she were her daughter. It warmed Liana's heart and at the same time made her so angry. How could Art take and destroy such a relationship for a momentary whim?

"I already told Art earlier that I have some project due tomorrow, and Patrick said that if he's already here, he could help me. I hope that's okay." She still didn't look at him. Patrick, on the other hand, looked at him. Art changed colors. He didn't know how to handle the current situation. Throughout it, Liana was better than him at maneuvering the situation. "And besides, I won't feel alone in London. Patrick will be with me." This time she looked directly at Art, and her smile was genuine. It was unmistakable. "Really? How did that happen?" Art's father, Tim, intervened in the conversation. "Long story, something about a coach whose name I can't remember, but it's so great that everything worked out like this, and I won't have to start from scratch." She spoke quickly, lowering her gaze from Art just to give her attention to his mother, who nodded with a smile of her own, not understanding everything happening beneath the surface in this conversation.

"It's a shame you can't stay for the game; after all, you're his lucky charm," she said after a few more exchanged words. "Maybe it's time to find a new lucky charm," Liana replied, and everyone laughed. Some genuine, some fake.

Patrick, at that moment, observed Art, whose gaze was already fixed on him and didn’t let go for a second. Art didn’t laugh. Hello there!!! How are we doing? Patrick is really stepping up his game for our girl! As usual, I'd like to hear any thouths you have. I really love talking to you and getting to know what you want for the story.  you can always ask to be part of the taglist :) taglist: @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[turvi]

Hi, i really love your ss x reader. MASTERPIECE ✨✨. Can i request this, young severus accidentally shout and slap reader because he is not in the mood to deal with reader after he got bullied by marauders, reader's feeling kinda hurt and she didn't get to tell him she is going to be transferred to other school (beauxbatons) and her feelings. She graduated and become a astronomy professor there after 10 years, then albus wants the reader back to teach at Hogwarts. She then came across into severus, he shocked at her but she just give cold shoulder because of the past. After a few months, Severus then realized what he did to her then says his apologise and his feeling towards reader, he regrets what he did to reader and reader accept it. Kisses and hugs and gazing stars together. You can ignored this if you dont want to or the request is closed😀🔫

TRIGGER WARNING: SLAPPING

She placed her palm on her cheek. It felt warm. But not the one that would comfort her. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes but she closes closes her eyes. She heard him immediately repeating the words sorry but the voice that used to feel like a balm on her pain felt like it was clawing her soul now. Y/n walks away not looking behind, letting her tears fall.

Severus stood there watching the one person who had accepted him turn her back on him. The worst part is that there is no one else to blame but himself. He let the marauders get to him and finally snapped and took it out on Y/n. Part of him wanted to go after her but he knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness.

The following days were hell for Severus. Hogwarts had already been hell for him and Y/n his warm sunshine that helped him get through this hell. But he doesn't have anyone else to blame except himself for how her eyes avoid him as if they were strangers and had not shared their secrets under moonlight far away from everyone. What makes it worse he has not seen her at all. He has looked for her everywhere but no trace of his beloved.

That was until one night he was walking in the corridor and bumped into Dumbledore. The headmaster of Hogwarts felt his heart break as Severus seemed more pale than usual. "Severus, what are you doing here so late at night."

"I don't feel like sleeping" his voice was hoarse

"Are you unwell?"

Severus huffed, he just wanted to have one glance at Y/n. "No...I". Severus couldn't even gather the courage to look into Dumbledore's eyes. He was ashamed of what he had done.

"Severus...what is the matter," Dumbledore asked calmly

Severus groaned, admitting defeat to his inner demons "I can't find Y/n. I messed up....well that is an understatement. I....." He felt tears threatening to leave his eyes but ultimately he couldn't stop the tears when he felt Dumbledor's walk palm on his arm.

"I raised hand at my Y/n....I slapped her." he acknowledged it. Severus couldn't understand if that made it better, but he hated this feeling. He couldn't stop the tears falling down his cheeks. He expected Dumbledore to yell at him, scream at him but he put his hands on his arms.

"Why?"

Severus gulped "The marauders. They got on my nerves. I didn't mean to-" he clenched his eyes "It doesn't matter. I can't find her. I have to talk to her."

"Severus..."

His heart drops. Severus could feel an uneasy heat in his body. "you know where she is"

"She has been transferred to Beauxbatons. She asked me to do so."

Severus sinks down to the floor. He had lost her and now all he could do was stay in darkness and watch time pass by. Dumbledore walks away after all time heals all wounds.

---------

Time didn't heal Severus' wounds. As each year passed he couldn't care less about living. But he lives...he lives for his duty, he lives for the slight hope that maybe he will see her again. Perhaps he will get to hold her in her arms and let her know that he will spend the rest of his life and the lives after that just to let her know how much he loves her, he lives for her.

Just as Severus begrudgingly made his way to the great hall he heard a familiar voice. No. No, it can't be.

He has never run so fast recently, maybe just in youth to escape Potter and his friends. Severus saw her. There she was standing, with warm sunshine bathing her. Y/n L/n. His hand clenched when his eyes fell on her cheeks. Severus is familiar with the feeling of self-hatred, but he loathes himself forever raising his hand to her. So even if his heart was screaming to run to her and take her in his arms, he knew your love for him ended right here in this corridor.

Y/n's eyes fell on him. His heart breaks as her smile drops. Severus knew he deserved it. Suddenly there is a familiar burn on his arm, he endures it. It's a risk he is willing to take to let her know he regrets what he did. "Y/n" his voice boomed across the corridor, she ignores the familiar chill that ran down her spine.

"Severus?" He immediately stopped. It was like she had control over his body. Her eyes. Severus wished he could stop time just so he could look into her eyes, hoping to find a sliver of love for him.

Severus didn't know how to win your heart back. She was about to speak up when he got on his knees, looking at her defeatedly. For the first time since becoming a death eater, Severus looked weak as he looked for mercy from the woman in front of him.

"Severus! What are you doing?" she immediately ran towards him

"Please forgive me." he folds his hand

"Severus...get up"

"There was not one second where I did not regret my action. I love you Y/n...I really do. I shouldn't have raised my hand on you. I don't ever want to raise my hand at you. Please even if you will never love me...please forgive me...I can't live like this." his voice cracks

Y/n looks at him. Even though she missed him, he still broke her heart.

"Say something, please," Severus asked desperately. "I can tolerate anything but not this silence. I have hurt you my love I know. But please give me one chance. One chance to prove how much I regret breaking your heart...how much I love you."

Y/n wipes tears from his cheeks that Severus didn't know were there. "one chance"

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

Severus held her hands as he gently tugged her towards the Astronomy Tower.

"Wasn't it enough that I have to spend my day here now you bring me here at night?"

He softly smiles, his velvety voice feeling like a warm blanket to Y/n "I am here making an effort to earn your apology. It doesn't matter how many years it takes but I will do everything to show you how much I mean it."

Severus' breath shuddered as he felt her lips on his forehead. He held back his urge to hold her. Not now. There will be time for that. For now, he was happy to sit beside her and listen to her talk as the stars glimmered in the night sky.

A/N: I am so sorry for the late response I have a big dissertation going on. REBLOG AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED

[niningtori]

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter one: do you not love me? like at all?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! ... r u mad at me? be honest (*´ｪ｀*) i'm sorry i've been gone for so long, but i've had the worst writer's block with my other story. i decided to just post this because i couldn't get the idea of toxic!beomgyu out of my head. don't worry, he will suffer. anyway, i hope you like it!! if not, please don't hurt my feelings i beg.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?"

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and god it hurts.

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl and you know beomgyu well enough to know that he's avoiding your question. that's enough of an answer as it stands, really. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself. and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him. that's how much you love him. but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking. "does that mean anything at all to you?"

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. "beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.

-

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world. or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss his the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him. but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder. would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.