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starlighttsv · 3 days ago

Note

Can you please do a fox where Blakey is hurt or sick and Paige and azzi take care of her

Sick - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: P & A take care of Blakely while she is sick

»»— warnings: poly! sickness, puke, hospitals, i.v, ect..

»»— notes: the internets the one that told me the fever thing and i know the internet lies so idk if that’s all true 🤷‍♀️ i also got carried away writing this but i gave up on proofreading lmao

»»— word count: 3.3k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

azzi and paige both woke up to the bed being cold, which never happens as blakely is always asleep in the middle of the bed between both of them.

so as you can assume they were both equally confused and even more so when they realized it was only 5:30am, when practice wasn’t until 8am and it was a saturday so the three of them didn’t have any classes today.

not to mention - blakely is NOT a morning person! she’ll sleep until 3pm if she doesn’t have anything going on that day

so blakely not being in bed and between them where she’s supposed to be was both confusing and concerning for the two girls

“where’s rosie?” paige rasps out to azzi with her morning voice while sitting up slowly on her elbows, using the nickname her and azzi have called blakely since they met “i don’t know” azzi says confused looking around the room for any sign of blakely

“here, you lay back down, i’m gonna go find her. “ azzi says already getting up starting to walk around the bed and to the door “are you sure? i can help look” paige rasps, slowly waking up more “i got it” azzi says looking back at paige “ok, if you need me, call for me. i’ll still be awake.” paige says laying back down on the bed

azzi nods to what paige said and then walks out of paige’s dorm bedroom and down to the living room / kitchen area thinking maybe blakely just wanted a late snack…nope

azzi looked everywhere for her in the small dorm and didn’t find her girlfriend anywhere - looked everywhere except for the bathroom, which honestly should’ve been the first place she looked

azzi makes her way to the bathroom seeing the door is shut but there is no light on, making her confused even more, rightfully so - blakely’s scared of the dark

azzi knockes on the door and gets no answer back making her slowly open the door and reach her hand in to turn on the light - only to see blakely sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her head resting on the toilet seat looking to be asleep, azzi immediately runs over to blake while yelling for paige not caring about jana and allie still being asleep

“PAIGE! COME HERE!” azzi yells while pulling blakely off of the toilet and letting b rest against her legs, while azzi holds blake there making sure she won’t fall forward and hit her head on the toilet. paige comes running in and sees blake unconscious being held up by azzis legs and azzi of course, with her few day old straightened hair tangled up with puke all in her hair and all on her

“what happened?! is she ok?” paige stresses walking closer to her two girlfriends and kneeling down next to blake “i don’t know i just found her with her head resting on the toilet seat and unconscious” azzi says starting to stress but trying to keep it underwraps

“baby hey, blakely” paige says tapping blakely’s face a few times trying to get her to wake up - which didn’t work because blakely could sleep through anything including earthquakes and tornadoes

paige and azzi both try to wake blakely up and after a few stressful minutes eventually succeeded “hi baby, can you tell us what happened?” paige asks while holding blakely’s cheek - slowly rubbing her thumb over blakely’s cheek bone

blakely doesn’t answer and instead just closes her eyes and leans her face more into paige’s hand and her body more into azzi’s touch - finding their touch comforting

“mama hey, let’s get you in the bath and then we can go to bed alright?” azzi says leaning down some to make her be closer to blakely

blakely just groans in response not wanting to move at all knowing her stomach pain is gonna come back right when she moves

paige just stands up and turns the water on for the bath and azzi starts helping blakely get her clothes off, both ignoring her groans of protest and just continuing with what they were doing

“alright a warm bath with bubbles and a bath bomb is ready for you” paige says coming back over to blakely and azzi - helping azzi into lifting blakely up gently as to not upset her stomach

paige helped blake get her pants off while azzi held her up, and then azzi helped blake get into the tub and sit down.

“i’m gonna go get her some clothes” azzi mumbles to paige watching blakely immediately put her head on the side of the tub, paige nods signaling that she heard azzi and squats down by the tub, running her hand over blakely’s back “hi baby, i’m gonna wash your hair ok? i’m gonna need you to sit up for me, just for a little bit then you can lay your head back down alright?” paige says in a low tone, knowing that when blakely’s sick she always ends up getting super bad migraines, she doesn’t know if blake has a headache right now or not as blakely’s gone non verbal, so she’s just treating it like she does have a headache just in case.

blakely still doesn’t say anything, she just slowly lifts her head up, allowing paige to wash her hair.

while paige was washing blake’s hair, azzi came back in and set a pile of clothes and a towel on the sink, she then also squated down beside paige and started rubbing blakely’s back

“how are you feeling now baby?” azzi asks lowly but getting no answer in return “mama hey” paige says pausing her scrubbing and trying to make eye contact with blake - blake eventually turning her head slowly

“how are you feeling now?” paige re asks azzi’s question, with blakely only shaking her head side to side as her answer.

“do you think you can keep down medicine?” azzi asks still rubbing blakely’s back - once again blakely just shook her head side to side as a way of saying no

“is there anything you need or want?” paige asks as she’s now rinsing the shampoo out of blakely’s hair

blakely still doesn’t talk and just shakes her head again, paige and azzi look at each other for a minute concerned as blakely has never acted like this while she’s sick - she normally just is clingy and wants attention 24/7, making them realize she’s a lot sicker then she normally gets every once in awhile.

paige and azzi help get blakely clean, dried, and dressed before azzi has blake sit on the toilet so she can braid her hair, and get it out of the way in case blakely throws up again

while azzi was doing that, paige went back to the room and started up the tv, putting it on descendants - one of blakely’s favorite movies, and grabbed 2 small trash cans putting it on either side of the bed, knowing blakely’s still gonna want to be in the middle close to both of them

“alright there we go rosie” paige can hear azzi say from the bathroom down the hall, making her set down the water bottle she had just grabbed onto the night stand, and walk towards the bathroom

“you guys done?” paige asks as she sees blakely shakily walk forward “she’s gonna brush her teeth and then we’re done” azzi says trailing behind blakely in case she loses balance

paige nods in response “i’m gonna go make some coffee, figured we’re gonna be up for a little bit” she finishes while standing up from leaning against the door frame

azzi nods showing that she heard paige but kept her attention on blake. paige then walked to the kitchen making enough coffee for her and azzi, + jana and allie if they wanted any

paige could hear azzi helping blakely back into her bedroom and was trying to hurry with the coffee - just wanting to be with both her girlfriends and be able to comfort her sick girlfriend, so while the coffee was brewing she started preparing the mugs, putting sugar, creamer, all that stuff in and then pouring the coffee and stirring it together, once the coffee was done.

she grabbed those two mugs and carefully walked to her room, seeing azzi and blakely in their normal spots, with b’s head resting on azzi’s chest both watching tiktok off of azzi’s phone

paige just walked to the bed carefully giving azzi her coffee, before getting on the bed and under the covers - moving her free arm to lay behind blakely signaling to both of them to move closer to her - which they both do obviously

once they were all comfortable, azzi pressed play on the movie, blakely letting the sound of her comfort movie lull her to sleep.

sleep didn’t last long. she was able to get an hour & 30 minutes before she woke up gagging, paige immediately sat up from talking to azzi and grabbed the trash can putting it under blakely’s mouth just in time.

azzi rubs blake’s back while paige is whispering soft nothings to blakely - wanting to comfort her as paige knows blakely hates getting sick especially in front of people including her two girlfriends that she’s known for years

“you done?” paige asks after a few minutes of blakely just catching her breath, blakely takes a minute to decide and then nods her head slowly - making paige set the trash can back on the floor and grab the water from earlier, opening it, and handing it to blakely

while she was taking a drink, azzi decided to go get the thermometer and see just how sick blakely is,

“we have to get her fever down now or take her to the hospital. it’s way to high.” azzi says after looking at the thermometer once it beeped

“how high?” paige asks already standing up to try to help “101.2 if it gets to 103 or higher she’s definitely going to the hospital - if we’re not already there. i don’t care if we get in trouble for missing practice.”

“no, no hospital” blakely groans out trying to lay back down but can’t get comfortable. paige and azzi both moved closer and started trying to help blake get more comfortable

once they were done azzi sat at the edge of her side of the bed, putting her hand on top of blakely’s “we won’t take you yet, but if your fever doesn’t go down or it gets higher, we’re gonna have to. you already have a 101 fever baby. we will both be with you, i promise. you won’t be alone ok?” azzi tries to soothingly say as she knows blakely is also petrified of hospitals

blakely doesn’t respond to her and just turns to look at paige, using her doe eyes on her knowing those are paige’s weakness “i’m sorry mama, she’s right. you’re really sick baby”

blakely just huffs and tries to turn over onto her stomach so she doesn’t have to look at them - she struggles for a little bit and paige and azzi obviously voice their opinions but, blakely eventually succeeds in rolling over all by herself

“rosie-“ azzi starts but gets cut off “no” blakely responds back, already knowing what she’s gonna say and not wanting to hear those said words. paige and azzi both make eye contact behind blakely’s back and start lip reading each other - trying to figure what to do

“alright baby, if you don’t want to end up having to go to the hospital then we need to get your fever down by a lot, so cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige says putting her hands on her hips - looking at her stubborn sick girlfriend “neither” blakely grumbles into the pillow

“alright i’ll get the necessities for the hospital” paige said starting to walk out of the bedroom “no hospitals!” blakely yells into the pillow “ok then cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige sasses back

blakely groans into the pillow which ends up in a coughing fit making azzi who’s still sitting in the same spot, start patting her back to try to help her

once she was done coughing paige walked back to the bed laying down in her spot and looking at blakely “rosie look at me” paige says putting her hand on blakely’s back and gently rubbing her lower back while azzi’s still rubbing her upper back

blakely didn’t respond in any way making paige sigh “baby”

“mama, cmon” paige says but ends up more of demanding it, blakely slowly turns her head to look at paige and immediately made eye contact with her piercing blue eyes

“we just want to help you, you know that. we wouldn’t suggest the hospital if we didn’t feel like it was necessary. your fever is at 101.2 right now ok? if we can bring it down and keep it down then we don’t have to go to the hospital but if your fever gets to 103 and up we have to go, it’s not up for discussion.” paige starts and she can see blakely about to complain and starts talking again before blakely has the chance “you know we wouldn’t leave you alone there, i know you do. we’ll be right by your side the whole time ok?” paige says in a soft voice trying to get blakely to understand how serious her fever is.

blakely doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at paige while thinking of a decision while azzi and paige both keep rubbing her back, blakely eventually nods her head “i’ll go if needed” she grumbles out “thank you baby.” paige says leaning in and kissing the top of blakely’s head “do you want to take a ice bath or..?” azzi now asks making blakely groan into the pillow again as she didn’t learn her lesson last time

after blakely’s done with her second coughing fit paige and azzi both manually roll blakely over, so that she can actually breath and so she can’t groan into the pillow anymore

paige and azzi both just stare at blake - wanting an answer, making blakely sigh and look between both of them “rags and ice packs i guess”

paige stands up from the bed saying that she’ll be back and walks out of the bedroom going to the kitchen to get ice packs, while paige is doing that azzi gets up to get cold wet rags

it’s now been almost two hours since azzi took blakely’s temperature and that whole argument. after paige and azzi put wet rags and ice packs all over blakely’s body all three of them ended up watching more movies until they all fell asleep - 2 of them fell asleep on accident and neither of them called geno telling him what’s happening

azzi woke up before the other two and was confused before she looked at the bed and saw her two girlfriends asleep on the bed - realizing that her and paige accidentally fell asleep which was fine until she also remembered the said fact that they didn’t call geno, making her scramble to grab her phone seeing multiple missed calls and unread texts from everyone on the team

azzi quickly sent a message to geno and cd explaining everything - which is what reminded her to check blakely’s temperature

104.3

“paige! paige get up” azzi says while shaking paige making her wake up startled “what? what happened” she groaned out “blakely’s fever is to 104.3, we need to get her to a hospital now” azzi says with urgency making paige sit up and look at blake realizing how pale she looks

both paige and azzi put there crocs on and wake blakely up - that was a mistake

right when they successfully woke blake up she immediately started gagging making azzi rush to put a trash can under her mouth, paige was rubbing her back as a way to comfort blakely but it wasn’t working and blakely couldn’t stop puking

after a few minutes of non stop puking and then dry heaves,blakely was finally able to get a break and during that break azzi put blakeys slides on her and grabbed the clean trash can for the car ride to the hospital

paige carefully picked up blakely knowing that blake would be walking slow to the car and then end up puking again before they made it to the car, so she was going to carry her

blakely lays her head on paige’s shoulder while paige follows behind azzi as she’s the one opening the doors for paige to get through with blake. once they reach paige’s car paige sets blakely in the backseat with azzi sitting back there with her - holding the trash can in front on blakely while paige gets into the drivers seat and takes them to the hospital

once they made it to the hospital they were checked in and seen pretty fast, now blakely’s laying in the hospital bed with an i.v in her hand asleep while paige and azzi sit in the chairs by the hospital bed, each holding one of her hands and watching whatever shows on their hospital rooms tv

the doctor put her on some medicine but still wanted to monitor her over night so they were all going to stay the night at the hospital, paige planned on getting food and going home to get clothes and necessities once blakely woke up so she could also have a say in lunch so they were just waiting on blakely, which after a few more minutes eventually started to slowly wake up

“hey rosie” azzi said with a low voice being the first to notice her waking up, making paige look to her side to also see blakely waking up “good morning mama” paige says even though it’s the late afternoon now, blakely just groans in response - the light in the hospital room blinding her and making her headache worse

azzi seems to understand what’s wrong and gets up to turn the light off, “better?” she asks sitting down in her seat making blakely nod “how are you feeling?” paige asks rubbing her thumb over blakes knuckles “like crap” blakely rasps out before going into another coughing fit

azzi pats blakely’s back while paige holds a bucket under blake’s mouth just in case - eventually she stops coughing and the two of them continue to talk to blakely, mentioning getting stuff from home and food

it’s now the next day, blakely has been released from the hospital with instructions to rest and to take her prescribed medication and she should be good in the next 3-4 days - which paige and azzi where going to make sure blakely listened and did everything she was supposed to do

they had just gotten back to paige’s dorm and azzi was helping blakely up to paige’s room while paige was carrying their shared overnight bag, food to eat now, and a few bags of snacks and soft foods for the next few days

jana and allie were out at practice for today so it was just the three of them for right now. while azzi was helping blakely get comfortable on the bed paige was once again turning the tv onto a disney movie - this time being lemonade mouth

once the movie was on she sat down on her spot of the bed and passed the food around.

after around 25 minutes they eventually found themselves in a cuddling pile with blakely in the middle and paige and azzi hugging onto her, rubbing her stomach, playing with the ends of her hair, or gently kissing blakely’s forehead while whispering soft praises of love to her, with eventually all three of them falling asleep in each others arms

that’s how jana and allie found them 2 hours later

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @ldapper @authentic-girl03

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #azzi x reader #azzi x oc #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd x oc #paige x azzi #pazzi x oc #pazzi fics #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

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lightseoul · 1 day ago

Text

CHAPTER 9 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 7.4k (hoo boy. i did say i would end this with a bang. i wrote and edited this in two days.)

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of food, mentions of physical & mental health issues, explicit...themes. y'all see for yourselves what those are

a/n. and here we are. a little over two months since i posted the masterlist in the hopes that it would motivate me to see this series through, and i actually did it!!! i poured my heart and soul into this chapter, specifically, so i hope you enjoy it and find it a great way to wrap up the story. see the end for a message <3

links. masterlist, ao3

You shoot up at the sound of a honk—a blaring sound that you think can only be from one of those humongous passenger buses that circle the city.

Except they never really pass by your neighborhood—your apartment being located in the outer peripheries of Musutafu.

So why, all of a sudden, are you hearing these noises?

Wasn’t it just recently that you shot up awake like this?

Clenching your eyes back closed, you shake your head vigorously. The dull thumping that stretches from your parietal straight to your frontal lobe is unmistakable, such is the dryness of your throat. You look to your left, letting out a sigh of relief when you see a glass of water on the nightstand. You quickly grab it and take a sip, finally eyeing your surroundings as you do so.

The room is dim—the city lights emanating through the window the only source of illumination within the four walls, enough to cast a faint glow on what you’re now sure is Bakugou’s bedroom. You’ve only been here one night, but the plush mattress beneath you feels familiar, and you’re a hundred percent sure that’s your suitcase in the corner right next to his wardrobe. The wardrobe where he retrieved the futon…last night?

You shift to be on all fours, wincing to a halt when your back screams in protest at the motion. You try to rotate your neck next, grateful when all you feel is a slight strain and a sting—like you’ve got some bruising at the front. The rest of your body seems to be working alright—fatigued, yes, but not enough to cause you a new wave of pain with every maneuver.

And so with that thought, you slowly crawl toward the foot of the bed, right until you catch a glimpse of the said futon. It’s somewhat undone—arranged exactly how you think Bakugou left it the morning of the mission. Well, how you two left it. You remember accidentally stepping on it once or twice while trying not to invade Bakugou’s personal space as you simultaneously got ready, making a mental note to fix it before you left.

You guess you never got to. Apparently, neither did Bakugou.

Which only means one thing.

It’s still D-Day.

Only then do the events from earlier today come flooding at you, and you find yourself stumbling out the door, barefoot and maybe still a little too out of it to be rushing like this.

Regardless, you burst out of the room—fully expecting the twins to be there—although you’re not hit with a sobering visual confirmation, nor are you hit with a menacing glare followed by a ripping out of your tracker, which you note has already disappeared from its spot in the middle of your chest.

Instead, what hits you is the heady yet comforting smell of ramen broth.

You glance in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, Bakugou’s standing there—decked out in lounge clothes under an apron with a ladle in one hand—staring at you, surprised.

“Hey,” he finally gets out after a beat of immobility, before facing back toward the stove and turning down the heat. “You’re awake.”

You nod, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. You pad toward the kitchen as quietly as you can, stopping a few feet away from him where he looks so normal, like he didn’t just wrestle a murderer a couple of hours ago.

What the hell is going on?

Bakugou glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question—and it just dawns on you that you said that last bit out loud—before spinning to fully face you again.

“You had an anxiety attack,” he says as a matter of factly, and you feel yourself flame. “They told me to take you home after they did first aid on the both of us.”

So, he got hurt, too.

You tamp down the shame from your breakdown and note the bandage on his cheek, right where his scar is.

Still, it’s not exactly the two of you who you’re most concerned about right now…

You gulp, willing yourself to hold Bakugou’s gaze. “What about Masaki?” you ask. “D-did he—make it?”

At that, Bakugou sighs, and it’s enough for you to know the answer. Despite yourself, you feel a surge of guilt wash over your body.

“He was rushed to the hospital,” the pro-hero explains, solemn, “But he didn’t make it.”

And when you don’t say anything: “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t kill him,” he huffs, “I did.”

You shake your head decisively, before tossing him a stern look. “You did what you had to do.”

Bakugou stares at you for a second, an inexplicable expression on his face, although you don’t get to study it further because you look away first. “Did you know he was a consul?” you inquire, suddenly feeling the obligation to change the topic.

Bakugou turns, once again busying himself with the stove. “I heard.”

You pull a stool from underneath the kitchen island and hoist yourself up into it. “Explains why he was never around in the headquarters.”

“Explains why he was never home, either,” he piles on.

You feel your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, he just went through a divorce and lost custody of his daughters to his ex-wife, who that guy Hiroto described to have a pretty weak quirk. Said the man always had supremacist views, but changed for the worst when the woman filed a case against him.”

Huh.

“Speaking of quirks,” Bakugou continues, stirring the broth, “I’m sure you figured it out, but his was called retaliate. He could absorb attacks, especially explosions, and redirect them with—”

“Double the power, yeah,” you finish for him.

“Quadruple if he’s feeling confident—an ironic clause for a relatively meek guy like him,” Bakugou remarks. “Explains why he still took you with him despite suspecting we were doing something behind his back. He needed your luck and was planning to blackmail you into boosting him.”

That makes you frown. “But they didn’t figure out it was actually manipulation, did they? He mentioned luck to me, too. In the car, before we went into the building.”

“No, they didn’t,” comes Bakugou’s cool response. “Masaki and the rest still thought it was luck, just that you may have been using it beyond their instruction. Plus, at that point, they already had my bombs, so they could easily dispose of me and use my life as leverage to get you to do what they said.”

Bakugou reaches for one of the condiments in the rack, lightly shaking the contents out of the container and into the soup. “Explains why they told me last night to follow suit and get dressed in normal clothes. Didn’t matter that I’d be easily identified in them—I was never gonna get to the Prime Minister’s Office anyway.”

That fucking reminds you. “Where did that bastard even take you?”

At that, Bakugou stiffens. “An industrial-grade refrigerator,” he mutters.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he spews, perhaps a bit miffed. You can tell he’s not enjoying talking about this. “I was bolted in, and Kouki disappeared before I could wrangle him into letting me out.”

You can only gawk at him as he drawls on. “Took me a while to gather enough sweat for one massive blow to break the lock.”

“H-how?” you manage to croak out.

“Push-ups,” he answers curtly, still stirring. “I lost count at around 300.”

He takes your stupefied silence as a sign to continue.

“After that, I figured the old geezer couldn’t have gotten me too far—otherwise, he would’ve depleted his capacity to conduct mass teleportation if things went south for them. I boosted myself up to get an aerial view and find a landmark, and got going when I did.”

“Were you still wearing your tracker?” you can’t help but probe.

“I had to,” Bakugou responds, “If I wanted him to come to me. When he found out I was on the move, he teleported to where I was—probably to teleport me to my death, leverage be damned—but I was faster, and he couldn’t catch up.”

“I blasted him unconscious before he could retreat and bring everyone else with him,” Bakugou says as he takes what looks to be a lid and puts it over the pot, leaving a small gap for the steam to come out. “He’s in custody now. Shitty hair’s talking to him as we speak.”

At the mention of the redhead’s nickname, you straighten up. “How is he? And Sero?” you say so quickly you almost stumble over your words, “Are they okay?”

“Yeah,” comes his prompt retort, and you find your shoulders sagging in relief. “The twins put up a fight, but they eventually had them wrapped in Sero’s tape and chased you to the elevator. But then somebody pulled the fire alarm and they got stuck.”

“It was Masaki,” you swiftly supply. “He did it just as he hauled me out of the elevator.”

Again, you watch as Bakugou visibly tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. At least, for a moment, before he sighs.

“Yeah, well, they couldn’t get out for a while because the system needed manual operation to send the elevator back to ground floor, and nobody was around to do it. They couldn’t smash their way out of there, either. Could’ve caused the entire thing to crash down.”

“Wasn’t there any other hero besides them?”

“No,” Bakugou says almost regrettably as he takes the bowl of uncooked noodles into his hands. “They thought I’d be there just as planned, so they assigned the rest of the pro-heroes involved to the rest of the schools.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “I guess that explains why they went for the twins first instead of Masaki. Maybe they thought you’d be there to handle him?”

“No, they had eyes on you,” he corrects, just as he pours the noodles into the soup. “Shitty hair said they prioritized the two because they seemed stronger than Masaki. His packing that much fucking strength came as a shock to everyone.”

You chuckle dryly. “Even you, right?”

He grunts, unamused. “Even me.”

You let yourself sit in silence as Bakugou continues to tend to what he’s cooking. It goes on like this for a little while, before it hits you belatedly.

“Did anyone else get hurt?” you suddenly ask, “You know, aside from Masaki?”

“None, unless you count property damage,” he quips, and you let out a half-hearted laugh. You can hear him smirking when he adds: “Luckily, Kirishima and the others had enough foresight to evacuate the place entirely.”

“I’m guessing you know how they did it?”

At that, Bakugou nods. “…Although, I can’t say I agree with it.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“They used government surveillance information to send targeted texts to the potential victims—parents on behalf of the students, staff, employees,” he reveals, voice low. “Something about a suspension that they needed to be quiet about for their safety. Except the guards, who had to be there at the entrance.”

“But—”

“That would’ve meant Masaki and the twins would receive the message, too, I know,” he interjects. “Good thing I managed to put their names on that piece of paper. Otherwise, we would’ve been fucked.”

“No shit,” is the only thing you can mumble, head reeling from the revelation just now.

“…We barely made it, huh?” he rejoins, quiet.

“Yeah…” you reply.

A pause.

Then—

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out of the blue, startling Bakugou. You refuse to meet his gaze, though, even as you continue. “For losing it back there.”

At that, Bakugou whips to look at you, and you have no choice but to look up at him. “Hah?”

“I didn’t think I’d use everything up, and it’s been so long since I last depleted my quirk like that,” is the only thing you can get out.

You let your eyes fall to your enjoined hands in front of you. “I couldn’t control myself. I’m…sorry.”

Another pause.

“Tsk.”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected sound, and despite yourself, you find your line of vision going back to Bakugou, who’s now scowling at you.

“The only thing you should be sorry for is that unnecessary as shit apology,” he spits, before turning back to the stove. “Now, come on. Help me with the plates.”

You do just as Bakugou says and assist him.

You end up situating the placemats and cutlery just as he finished up the dish, serving it not even a few minutes later in a luxurious-looking, suspiciously Todoroki-esque bowl that you’re sure costs more than a well-functioning arm.

You try to ignore it as you navigate yourself in his kitchen, although it eventually becomes apparent that a peculiar kind of tension lingers in the air still, but you figure it’s not entirely unfathomable.

It’s only been a few hours, after all.

You repeat this like an incantation in your head—again and again until it somehow sticks—even as you quietly say your thanks and dig in. Not one word is uttered in between spoonfuls of food, the silence reminiscent of yesterday’s dinner—even though yesterday now feels like a whole month ago.

At least, that’s what you were thinking, until a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier stillness. You startle, then ease up when you realize it’s All Might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. Bakugou scrambles to fetch his phone from the island, although whatever urgency he had just now goes out the window when he sees the caller ID.

“It’s Asahi,” he grumbles.

You hurriedly swallow your noodles. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Bakugou glares at his phone for another second before shaking his head and turning it off, walking back toward you.

“Isn’t he gonna get mad?” you ask just as he reseats himself.

“We’ve been on duty for over two weeks,” Bakugou snarls, picking back up his chopsticks. “He can kindly go fuck himself.”

That makes you snort, which earns you a smirk, although his face falls almost immediately after.

You swallow the discomfort that shoots to your throat at the sight of it.

You try not to get caught, but you secretly sneak glances for the rest of the meal, and only by the end of it do you notice that his hair’s gone back to its normal, unruly state—probably due to a shower that he took after you got home.

That, and there’s definitely something weighing him down.

You just don’t know what.

You don’t attempt to comment on it as you help him clean up the plates, or even as you start drying the dishes after he washes them beside you. He doesn’t try to start a conversation, either, focus seemingly trained solely on the task in front of him, although you know better than to believe what your eyes are telling you.

It’s that thought that ultimately emboldens you to speak up a few minutes in.

You clear your throat, eyeing him as subtly as you can. “…Something on your mind?”

To your dismay, he doesn’t answer you, only passing a plate without sparing you a single glance.

Well, then.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself deflate at his snubbing.

You had your doubts about coming forward and asking him, although that’s when the memories of the things you had to go through together came in and you thought he’d trust you enough to share—but you guess you’re getting ahead of yourself, because there’s no way he’d—

“You used your quirk on me, didn’t you?

You freeze, all thoughts wiped out from your brain.

You feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare turn to look at him, nor do you open your mouth.

He turns away, nodding. “I knew it.”

Fuck this.

“People don’t normally notice—” you blurt, and he shifts to face you again, “—when I use it on them.”

You scratch at your cheek, feeling weirdly restless. “I think it’s only because you’re perceptive to begin with, and because you know about me and what I can do.”

“Why’d you do it?” is his immediate response, catching you off guard. You splutter, although—to your chagrin—he only raises an eyebrow at you, expression nothing less than expectant.

What the hell are you supposed to say other than the truth, then?

“Fine,” you hiss, pulling your lips into a thin line. “It was because I noticed you were getting frantic.”

At that, Bakugou’s eye twitches. “You calling me sloppy?”

“No!” you exclaim, then backtrack. “I was just—I just did what my instincts told me…”

And really, you did.

That’s all you could’ve done in that situation, for a person with your experience.

And you’re about to expound on that to a skeptical Bakugou when, to your surprise, he nods.

“Good call,” he mutters so silently, but you hear it anyway, and your eyes widen.

You must be gaping at him like he just said you are the greatest person to have ever graced the earth because he immediately looks away, embarrassed, a sudsy bowl still in hand.

“It’s stupid,” he continues, and you barely clock him having resorted to aggressively toeing his house slippers—the pair you bought for him. “I’ve never really lost my cool like that before.”

Now, that you’re not sure of.

Still, you force out a decent reaction.

“R-really?”

You’re instantly granted with a side-eye. “Don’t sound so fucking shocked.”

“It’s not that—” you choke, “It’s just that—”

“I have a short temper, I know. Sue me,” he spews, shutting you up.

“But I never let that get in the way of my work,” Bakugou pushes, suddenly serious. “Never.”

You frown, placing the plate you’ve been holding in the drying rack. “Well, they did fool us by separating us last minute,” you offer just as you look back at him, “I’d be pissed, too, getting betrayed like that.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything in reply, opting to stare at you—borderline scowling—for what feels like a minute. He eventually sighs, and you find yourself mentally sighing at the break in eye contact as he puts down the dish he was in the middle of washing.

But then he turns to you again, face blank, and says the strangest thing.

“Tell me. Are you playing with my emotions right now?”

“What?” you cry, “No! Why would you even—”

You’re cut off when—without warning—Bakugou coaxes the towel from your hand and takes a step close, invading your space.

“Good,” he rumbles, voice low and gruff as he leans even closer. “Just wanted to make sure.”

That’s all the warning he gives you before he grabs your neck and dives in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You instantly shut down at the contact, your body going rigid against his just like when he kissed you out of the blue this morning. But unlike earlier today, you don’t relax, and he must’ve sensed it, because he quickly pulls away, the hand that was just on your nape now resting on your shoulder.

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, a mortified look on his face. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No!” you interject, “I mean, it’s okay. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he breathes out, releasing you from his hold, and you don’t know if you’ve finally gone crazy, but did he just sound…hopeful?

No, he didn’t.

Which is why you muster up the courage to say the next thing.

“You’re just confused,” you finally get out, looking him straight in the eye.

His reply is instant.

“Believe me, I’m fucking not.”

That makes you frown, because why is he giving you such a hard time? You’re giving him an out, for god’s sake. A wake-up call, if you will.

That none of these is real.

And that he’s confusing make-believe with reality.

These very thoughts must be evident on your face because he studies you closely for a bit, a similar frown etched on his features. He then shakes his head, the same way he does when he’s getting impatient.

“You don’t believe me?” he finally says, and you’re about to say no, you do not, when he suddenly takes a step closer, and you find yourself stumbling back.

“What if,” another step forward for him, another one backward for you, “I tell you that I’ve been wanting to kiss the crap out of you, even when no one’s watching?”

Yet another step, and he finally stops. “Especially when no one’s watching.”

You can’t help it—you sputter, and to that, Bakugou only flashes you a devilish smirk. “Nothing?” he taunts, “You’ve got nothing to say?”

“J-just kiss?”

The second you say it, you know you fucked up.

His crimson eyes widen in surprise. “I mean, I want to fuck you, too, but—”

“No!” you cry, and he shuts up, “I mean, not like that. What I meant was, is this thing you’re feeling purely physical? Not that I think I’m all that—” you quickly disclaim, “—but is there something else, or…?”

At that, the motherfucker chuckles, and you’ve got half a mind to bury yourself in the very ground you’re standing on. But then you remember you’re on the top floor of a high-rise building, so that would only mean—

“I want to date the crap out of you, too, dumbass.”

“…Oh.”

A raised eyebrow. “Just ‘oh’?”

You flush. That was too soon of a reference.

Still, you have to respond.

“Oh, as in, oh, great,” you croak, “Because, believe it or not, I feel the same way.”

You can only watch in delight as Bakugou releases a breath you think he didn’t know he was holding, utter relief written all over his body. There’s no controlling the smile that breaches your mouth at the sight of it, earlier’s dreadful anticipation now morphing into a hoard of rabid butterflies. Bakugou sees the change in your countenance and grins.

“Does this mean I get to kiss you now? And that you won’t just stand there like a fucking corpse?”

That earns him a punch to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing. “Can’t you just do it without teasing me?” you grumble, “You’re such a dickhead.”

“Got it, princess,” is the last (pestering) thing he says before reaching for your neck again and pulling you toward him, wasting no time in bringing your lips to his.

It doesn’t elude you that you’re still somewhat tense, but you eventually manage to will yourself to ease up just as his other hand shoots up to hold your cheek, tilting it so he can deepen the kiss. You can’t help it—you groan when he does, and he takes that as an opportunity to slowly enter your mouth with his tongue, and you squeak at the intrusion. He only laughs at that, but he doesn’t let up, his tongue seemingly having a mind of its own as it swirls and explores without restraint.

You don’t know how long this goes on—your brain filled with nothing but the sensation of Bakugou’s soft lips against yours—but he eventually pulls away, and you have to stop yourself from ogling at how debauched he looks with just his flushed face and swollen lips. You guess you aren’t any different, because Bakugou’s eyes rove over your face—hungrily—almost as if he’s drinking you in.

“You’re a good kisser,” you offer lamely, desperate for anything to fill the tense air.

At that, he coughs, as if he didn’t expect you to say that of all things. “T-thanks. You, too.”

You flash him a grateful smile, although it’s quick to falter.

A beat.

“So…” you try again, “What now?”

Bakugou looks down at his feet, suddenly shy. “I—uh, meant it, you know.”

You gulp. “Meant what?”

“That I want to fuck you.”

Shit.

“But I understand if you don’t want to, or if that’s moving too fast. It’s only been two weeks and—”

“Correction,” you cut in, “It’s been over two weeks. You said so yourself.”

That makes Bakugou pause, who only looks at you in bewilderment. “What are you trying to—”

“I’m ready,” you declare, voice nothing short of sure. “I want this.”

That seems to set something off in the pro-hero, because his entire demeanor shifts. You don’t get to comment on it before he’s back on you in an instant, encasing your lips in a searing kiss. You stagger back from the sheer force alone, grabbing onto his shirt for purchase as you stumble across the living room, not parting ways for even a second, his mouth hot against yours. He seizes you by the waist just as you almost crash into the wall, expertly maneuvering you through the door and into his bedroom, lips still molded together.

He only pulls away when you reach the foot of his bed, letting go of his grip on you to lift you bridal-style, the brazen display of effortless strength sending a shot of arousal into your veins. You loop your arms around his neck as he climbs over the mattress, inching toward the headboard before gently placing you down into the pillows. You waste no time pulling him back closer to you, initiating the kiss this time, and you think he must like that, judging by the way he groans quietly.

“What,” you mumble against his lips, “You like it when I take charge?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles back, although he doesn’t break away, only biting your lower lip as if in punishment. You wince, but he’s quick to lave over it with his tongue. “Hurry up and—” a kiss, “—take off—” another kiss, “—mm—your clothes.”

That makes you laugh. Of course, he’d order you to strip after just cussing you out.

You don’t complain, though, lightly shoving him away so you can pull your shirt over your head. You glance at Bakugou when it’s off of you, and sure enough, he’s staring at your chest.

“Aren’t you gonna undress as well?” you ask pointedly, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing on your face.

“Shit, right,” he blubbers, and you find yourself smiling as he hurries to take off his shirt.

Only that smile doesn’t get to last for too long before it’s instantly replaced with an ‘o’ at the sight of his ridiculously defined abs.

You point to it, honestly perturbed. “How the fuck is that even possible?”

Now that makes him laugh, the motion causing his abdominal muscles to flex and you blanch. “What if I tell you I’ve had them since high school?”

“Liar.”

Bakugou grins. “Had you known, would you have forced me to listen to your confession?”

“That’s it,” you make a move to get out of the bed but he tugs you back, flashing you a boyish smile that you don’t want to admit makes you—kinda—all weak in the knees.

“That was the last one,” he promises, still grinning, “I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying straight out of your ass.”

“Me?” he asks, feigning innocence as he crawls closer, towering over you again until you’re back to lying on the bed. “Never.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, looking anywhere but at him or his broad chest. Although, your efforts are all for naught because he lifts one hand and takes your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Can I take off your bra?” he inquires, the earnestness in his tone almost causing you to squirm.

You thankfully don’t—you’ve decided you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for today—and instead, nod. He doesn’t bother to say anything else as he reaches for your back, and you arch—slowly, Masaki did a number on you, after all—just in time so he can feel your clasp. It takes him a second to undo it, and a few more to lift it off of you, but when he does, the first thing he says is—

“Fuck.”

You snort. “I’m guessing that you like them.”

“Obviously, dumbass,” he spits, although it’s more playful than scathing. Then, he’s back to staring, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Wow.”

“What, is this the first time you’ve seen boobs?” you joke—because there’s no way a guy like him has never been with a girl, at least physically—although the jesting lilt in your voice immediately dies out when his face falls and he looks away.

Shit.

There’s only one thing for you to do.

Reaching out for his nape, you tug him down until he’s only a few centimeters away, taking his lips into yours before he can protest. To your relief, he melts into your touch, back to eagerly returning the kiss in a matter of seconds. Wanting to make him feel good now more than ever, you let your other hand snake up to his hair, grabbing a fistful before pulling tentatively—as if to test the waters. You don’t end up disappointed—in fact, you’re far from it—when he groans against your mouth, louder than before. Emboldened by his generous reaction, you pull again—harder this time—and it’s your turn to be surprised when his hips buck involuntarily against your own, giving you the slightest bit of friction that’s nowhere near enough.

You rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache as discreetly as you can, although this motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who withdraws ever so slightly to study you.

“You okay?”

“Yes—it’s just,” you hesitate, before deciding you owe him the truth. “…I want you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it sure wasn’t that—and so candidly, too—because he splutters, face evidently flushing despite the dim lights. “I-I want you, too,” he says honestly, “But I should warn you, I’ve never really done this before.”

“I thought you were gonna say you were massive,” you quip.

“Yeah,” he smirks without missing a beat, and you choke, “That, too.”

You slap his chest, which you instantly regret. “You’re the worst!”

He doesn’t say anything to that, only grinning as he leans in and—to your surprise—latches his lips onto your neck. You barely stop yourself from jolting in pleasure when he finds and nips at your pulse point—no doubt leaving a mark that you’re going to have to color correct tomorrow if you don’t want to get any funny looks. To your chagrin—or delight, you don’t fucking know at this point—Bakugou doesn’t stop his assault on your neck, instead bringing one hand up to graze the skin below your breast.

Suddenly tired of all the teasing, you grab his hand yourself and place it right on your boob, smiling when a curse is immediately muttered against your neck. You don’t let go of your hold, choosing to guide him on how to grope and fondle it instead. Bakugou catches on quickly, and before you know it, he’s already playing with your nipples, twisting and pulling them just the way you like.

“You can use your mouth, too, if you want,” you tell him a few moments later, stifling a moan when he sucks on a spot at the crook of your neck one more time, before nodding and easing down so he can be face to face with your chest.

He doesn’t let you get another word in before he takes a nipple into his mouth, and this time, you can’t stop yourself—you jerk against him—which only pushes it further. He takes the opening and starts sucking, and you’ve got half a mind to push him away. You don’t, though, and you doubt you could’ve anyway, his grip on your waist unrelenting as he switches between breasts, doing all sorts of things with his tongue that have your mind swimming.

“Still think I’m the worst?” he eventually looks up and asks roguishly, lips even more swollen and glistening with saliva.

“Jury’s still out—” you hiss when he pinches a nipple, and you swat him away. “Never mind, you are the worst.”

“Even when I do this?” he drawls, and you’re about to clarify with him what he’s going off about this time, when he unexpectedly slips a finger underneath your panties, and you barely, barely manage to bite back a moan.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re so wet.”

You fight back a shudder even as he traces the outline of your sex, seemingly entranced. “Are you—are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“What, you saying I’m a liar?” is his snarky retort, although he thankfully doesn’t stop his ministrations. In fact, your question only seems to provoke him, causing him to apply more pressure.

“N-no, it’s just that, fuck—” you huff, “I-I wouldn’t be surprised if you went d-down on me and you’d be good at that, too.”

That makes Bakugou pause, and you almost whine at the loss.

But then he practically rips your underwear out of the way, and you somehow don’t find it in you to care at all. They were granny panties anyway, and you’re too engrossed in how the pro-hero urges you to open your thighs for him, and then prying them open himself when you take too long to do it.

Not to mention the look on his face when he finally sees you.

“Stop staring at me, Bakugou,” you can’t help but grumble.

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

He doesn’t shift to look at you, gaze still focused between your thighs. “Call me Katsuki.”

That’s all the foreboding he offers before he dives in and licks a long strip along your slit, and you almost scream, if not for the hand you slap over your mouth the second that he does. He’s relentless—even as you squirm and tremble underneath him—lapping on your wetness like a man who hasn’t had a drop of water for days. You jolt when he flicks his tongue right at your clit, hands instinctively shooting up to grab at his hair. But then he makes the mistake of pushing the wet muscle into your entrance, and you inadvertently pull—hard—hard enough that it causes him to groan against your core, sending a surge of vibrations straight into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you warble, looking down at Bakugou only to see him peering up at you with half-lidded eyes that’s got you almost moaning again. “Keep on doing that.”

Fortunately, Bakugou doesn’t tease you for sounding pathetic just now, only choosing to do as you say. He resumes, with renewed vigor, paying particular attention to your clit this time. He keeps on licking it, and then sucking, before licking it again, that you almost don’t notice when a finger presses against your hole. But then he’s inching it slowly and you’re suddenly all too aware of the intrusion.

The first thing that registers is that his fingers are definitely bigger than yours.

The second thing is that fuck—did he just insert a second one?

You look down to where he’s stuck to your body, but you can’t see anything beyond his head of ash-blonde hair.

But then he does a scissoring motion inside you just as he suckles at your clit, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You can’t help it—you finally moan—and you barely miss him grinning against your pussy at the sound of it.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes out, lifting his head a bit so he can speak. “I thought you were never gonna moan for me again.”

“Again?” you barely manage to answer, already missing his mouth on you. You may be out of it, but you’re certain you haven’t cracked until just now.

“Already forgot?” he goads, pulling his fingers out of you. “Let me remind you then.”

Before you can get up and coerce him to just shut up and continue what he was doing, he’s back to towering over you, smashing his lips against yours.

And then he does it—the thing he did before. The first day in your shared bedroom. You still don’t know what it is, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t fucking know, but it’s coupled with his scalding hold on your body, and despite yourself, you moan.

He promptly pulls away, a proud smirk on his face.

“Now, don’t hold back,” he commands cooly as you gape at him in half offense, half shock. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He then makes quick work of taking off his boxers, and at this point, you can only stare at him as he eases it off.

He wasn’t kidding.

If he’s noticing you practically eye-fucking him, though, he doesn’t comment on it, although the faint tinge of scarlet on his cheeks is undeniable. Instead, he only crawls over you again, right until he’s hovering over your pelvis.

Wait.

“Bakugou—” you start.

“Katsuki,” he corrects petulantly.

“Katsuki,” you force yourself to say, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Next time,” he quickly responds, and you feel your heart lurch at the promise of a continuation. “I just need to be inside you, or I’m gonna fucking nut.”

You frown, although his honest admission sends an undeniable thrill down your spine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he seethes, “Now, come on.”

You don’t waste another second, opening up your legs just enough for Bakugou to position himself between them. He’s got an arm propped at the side of your head to support his weight, while the other reaches down to finally grab his cock. He instantly hisses at the contact, and you don’t have to look to know it’s his pre-cum that’s dribbling down your thighs.

He then mutters a curse to himself, but it’s not exactly laced with lust just as it has been the past how many minutes.

And that’s when it hits you.

The guy is nervous.

You reach up to touch his cheek, his eyes shooting up to meet yours when you do. You offer him a small smile, one that you hope says ‘I’m alright’ and that ‘I want this’. But then you remember this is Bakugou freaking Katsuki, and the last thing he needs is to be placated.

“Relax, Katsuki,” you coo, grinning when he shoots you a glare.

“And you’re gonna have to do that on your own,” you tease, “I’m all out for today.”

That lights a flame under his ass, because the glare just now morphs into a look of determination, and one glimpse of it is enough to tell you you’re fucked.

“Spread your fucking pussy,” he growls, and you immediately do as he says. He’s back to gripping his cock in an instant, giving himself a few pumps before he’s aligning it with your entrance.

And just like that, he pushes in.

You both groan when he does, his massive dick barely breaching your hole, and yet, it already feels like your nerves are on fire. You sneak a peek at the pro-hero, and you’re glad you do, because you’re met with the glorious sight of Bakugou with his eyes clenched close, lips bit in a fierce attempt to stay quiet.

“Tell me when to move,” he rasps out, refusing to open his eyes.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, bringing your arms up to wrap them around his torso. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” he seethes, just as you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Or else I’m gonna finish.”

Knowing better than to press him, you nod instead, before wiggling your hips slightly. That grants you a curse from him, but before he can cuss you out, you speak up.

“I think I’m ready. You can move no—” you hiss when he pushes without warning, and he freezes.

“Fuck, I’m sorr—”

“Just—slowly, Katsuki. Go on, move.”

He pushes again—slowly, this time—and you can only sit there and take it as he eases in, inch by inch—stopping sometimes when it gets a bit much for you—until he’s finally, fully sheathed in.

“Shit.”

“God.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Bakugou grits out, head nestled within the crook of your neck. He still refuses to look at you, but apparently, that doesn’t matter as long as you’re being praised, because his comment inadvertently causes you to clamp down on his cock, and his breath hitches.

“Jesus,” he drones, burying himself further into your neck. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

You don’t answer him, choosing to tentatively roll your hips against his instead. He moans in your ear, and this time, you can’t help but whimper.

“Move, Katsuki,” you plead, “I can’t wait anymore.”

That seems to sober him right up, because he grunts in acknowledgement, before slowly lifting himself with his arms. Only then does he opens his eyes, and it takes everything within him not to cum at the sight of you.

He knows better than to fucking give up, though—not when he’s come this far—so with renewed purpose, he starts with small, shallow thrusts that have you mewling at him and him grunting at you, until he gradually builds speed and he’s pulling almost all the way out only to slam back into you again.

He does this again and again—somehow deeper and deeper each time—all the while panting and moaning above you, until he prods at a particular spot that has you jerking violently against him, cursing. “Fuc—”

“Shit,” he freezes, “What—”

“No, no, no, no,” you cry out, clawing at his bare arms, “Don’t stop!”

At your request, Bakugou’s back to pounding into you in an instant, and you barely miss him looking at you with feral eyes before he hits the spot again, and you scream.

“Right—fuck—right there!”

At that, Bakugou rolls his hips once more and hits your G-spot squarely, and you moan.

“Right there?” he breathes out in question, chest puffing in pride as he watches you bob your head desperately, too blissed out to even care what you look like.

But then your walls are clamping down on him again, and Bakugou curses. “I’m not gonna l-last any l-longer,” he manages to get out, choosing to look at anywhere but your face.

“P-play—fuck,” you choke out, “—play with my c-clit.”

And when you don’t immediately feel his finger on your bud: “Hurry.”

That has Bakugou rushing to rub your clit, and you can only beg for more as the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the euphoria brought by his fingers—until you feel the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm.

“K-Katsuki,” you shudder, “I’m gonna c-cum.”

“I’m g-gonna—” he grunts, eyes clenched closed, “—fuck—I’m gonna cum, t-too.”

“Katsuki,” you call again, and he turns his head to face your direction. “Look at me.”

And when he does—open his eyes—you roll your hips against his as best as you can, and you say it.

“Give it to me, hero.”

And just like that, he cums.

Hard.

And you cum right with him, digging your nails into his biceps as you moan, so loud you wish he’d kiss you to shut you up, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he moans with you—a strangled one that strangely sends a pang of longing straight to your chest, a longing that you can now finally admit is for the very person in your arms, who you so ardently wish would stay there, even if the mission is long over.

You don’t say any of this, though, even as he kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out, or even as he silently pads to the bathroom to get a towel so he can get you cleaned up. You thank him as he does, and watch him as he puts it away and hesitates for a moment—as if the manual he’s read about sex as a high schooler ends at physical aftercare and he’s run out of instructions.

It’s after a few more moments of awkward silence do you finally sit up and move, scooching over to make space beside you. Bakugou’s eyes trail your movement, widening when he realizes just what you’re doing. He’s stiff even as he crawls to the spot next to you, promptly taking the duvet cover that was tossed to the side in the middle of…everything, before laying it on top of your bodies.

“Thanks,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say.

“‘s nothing,” is his reply, voice equally quiet.

Neither of you says anything for a while, even as Bakugou gently tugs your head so you can rest it on his shoulder.

It’s you, though, who breaks the silence.

“You know, had I known things were gonna end this way, I would’ve just slept in the same bed as you.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

a/n. :') first off, i want to thank you, friend, for taking a chance on this series and reading it up 'til the end. this has been the biggest endeavor i've ventured into as a writer, and it still feels surreal to me that i'm writing this now as i am about to post the last chapter. that being said, the biggest thank you to everyone who's shown love to all out of luck, especially the ones who left even just a single-worded comment. with the series having reached its end, it would mean the world to me if you let me know what you think about it / how it was for you <3 thank you so so much!!!

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33 | @lovesabreeze @reblogwhoreowo

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jmliebert · 2 days ago

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♡ Nanami in bed ♡

a little extension of what I wrote earlier. read it first, then come back here and… enjoy

Nanami is an exquisite balance of giving and taking. he’s deeply attentive, always making sure you’re satisfied first, but when he takes, he takes (!) with an intensity that leaves you shattered (in the most delicious way)

has a provider’s mindset, and obviously that extends into the bedroom. there’s a certain dominance in the way he touches you, a silent claim in every kiss, every deep thrust. possessive and protective

easily aroused, just you being yourself is enough to make him want you bad. a glance, a soft sigh, the way you stretch after waking up—it all fuels his need, and he needs you endlessly

when it comes to foreplay, oh..he takes his time, making you all nice and ready for him with touching diligence. he’ll lift you effortlessly just to kiss you deeper, hold you close like you’re something precious and it makes you feel fragile in the best way possible

loves giving head, not just as foreplay but as a way to see you unravel beneath him. watching your face hungrily from between your thighs, enjoying the way you shudder under his tongue, supersensitive after orgasm (and he still doesn’t stop, making you scream almost)

loves rough sex—deep, demanding kisses, spanking, biting—but never crosses the line. his sharp eyes are always on you, reading every expression, knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. you trust him completely because no matter how intense it gets, there’s always a deep undercurrent of care and love

his voice is deep and smooth, laced with filth and appreciation. he’ll whisper how wet you are, how good you feel, how he could fuck you all night. he makes you feel both desired and worshiped in the same breath, and he adores how reactive you all to his little dirty talks

hard, possessive strokes paired with gentle caresses. one hand spanking you, the other cradling your face. he loves positions that let him watch you—pressed against the wall, bent over the mattress, or straddling him while he guides you with firm hands on your hips

confidence in bed, he doesn’t need to prove anything—he just knows what he’s doing. he’s not into extreme kinks or excessive toys, but he’ll have you in every possible position, in every possible place. the bed, the couch, the floor, even the kitchen counter—if he wants you, he’ll have you

also a car sex enthusiast, loves the thrill of it. his hand starts on your knee, then moves up your thigh, teasing you until one of you snaps. either you end up going down on him, or he finds a secluded spot where he can take you properly. he likes having you ride him in the driver’s seat, his mouth on your nipples, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you with a mix of control and need

can be messy in the moment, but clean afterward. he doesn’t mind the mess during sex—sweat, fluids, whatever—but afterward, he’s meticulous. he’ll clean you up himself, maybe even carry you to the shower, washing your body with slow, unhurried care. and yes, he will change the sheets before bed

plus, you’ll never be left cold, hungry, or uncomfortable when Nanami is around. he’ll drape you in his T-shirt, bring you water, make sure you’re completely taken care of. he’ll massage any sore spots, trace over any love bites, and hold you even closer that night (especially if the sex was really rough)

clingy in his own way, won’t let you sleep without touching you. the moment you settle in, he’s pulling you close, inhaling your scent, running his fingers through your hair. he murmurs something soft against your ear—maybe a compliment, maybe something teasing—but the warmth in his voice makes you melt

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hi, you can find more of my works about nanami ♡here♡

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 days ago

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bath. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel is immobilized and giving you a hard time

Warnings: nothing much, some intimacy, shared bath, Ellie wants to get rid of Joel, boring conversations

A/N: it's something before something, so it's boring. it doesn't contribute much. if you want to support my tired mind, feel free to . kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

A broken collarbone wasn't what Joel expected. When the doctor at the clinic in Jackson, where you took him the next day, told him that he would be immobilized for a few weeks, Joel just sighed heavily. He was put in a sling and told to take care of himself so that the bone would heal properly.

It was humiliating.

Even when you left the clinic together and you took his left hand in yours, he didn't feel any better.

"I'm useless now." he mumbled, watching you choose apples and vegetables for dinner.

"Not at all." you replied calmly. "You'll just rest now. See how good it will do you."

Where did you get that optimistic belief? Joel had no idea. He was glad that your argument hadn't affected your relationship, because his head was telling him all the tragic scenarios, but now he was dependent on others for help. And worst of all, he couldn't help you,

You were the one who brought the box of food home. And then you hung the laundry out in the warm spring sun. You made dinner, and Joel...

"Can you take him somewhere?" Ellie rushed into the kitchen for the third day, a blush covering her cheeks. "He's unbearable!"

"Please, have mercy on him." you sighed. "This is the first time since..."

"He just came asking if I did my homework!" Ellie rolled her eyes and raised her hands in despair. "I'm not eight! Can we abandon him somewhere? In the forest, for example?"

You looked at her with amusement. "Of course not! But this is new to him. You know he doesn't go on patrol now, that he can't do much in the stables either."

"So you're sacrificing me?"

"Hey! I can't drag him around with me forever, he's an adult."

Ellie folded her arms across her chest and looked at you with satisfaction. "Maybe he's getting on your nerves too, huh?"

"That's not... That's not true!"

But sometimes it was like that. Joel was looking for something to do, something he could do with one hand. When he tried to help you with the laundry, it took longer than usual. Things weren't going his way at the stables either and when you went to visit him there, you saw how furious he was. Even Tommy washed his hands and didn't want to come near him.

"Fine." you finally sighed "I'll take care of him. He won't follow you around anymore."

The girl's face lit up. "I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

You didn't know if she was joking or serious.

You found Joel in the bedroom where he had been struggling with his shirt for a few minutes. He was already irritated enough and when you stood in front of him to help unbutton it, he only mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Don't pout like that." you said, smiling "That won't help you."

"Ellie already complained about me?" you nodded "I just wanted to..."

"I know, and she knows it too. Don't think about it now." You carefully took off his shirt, noticing how he winced when you helped him free his arm. "I'll draw you a bath."

"I can do it myself."

"Let me take care of you, Joel." you murmured, kissing his pouty lips.

This was amazing. A completely different level of sensation and pleasure. The bathroom was filled with steam and the pleasant scent of lavender. He could feel your body behind him, your legs were on his sides, and his back was resting on your chest. Joel closed his eyes in pleasure. You slowly washed his hair, massaging his scalp carefully. This made him turn into a purring mess, which he clearly liked.

"When was the last time someone really took care of you, huh?" you chuckled as a soft growl escaped his chest.

"I can't remember. You take care of me, don't you?"

"As much as you let me. Close your eyes." you poured a cup of warm water over his hair to rinse off the shampoo. "You should use this time, rest, get some sleep..."

His hand slid up your calf. "I feel useless." he mumbled. "Like I'm a fucking cripple or something."

"Nobody thinks of you like that." you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his temple. "Sometimes you're just a pain in the ass. Joel!" he squeezed your calf harder and you jumped. "Stop it, or I'll forget you're hurt!"

You both fell silent for a moment, soaking up this intimate time. These were special moments, you wanted to have them just for yourselves, because they made you feel that what you felt, that you were - was real. Only his voice, quiet but deep, tore you from your reverie.

"Do you remember the first time you hugged me?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I would never have dared to dream of being with you like I am now... I was convinced that I would lose you. It scared me. I didn't remember what it was like to have someone so close. I was sure that when you saw what I was like, you would run away."

You ran your fingers through his wet hair. You remembered exactly how tense Joel was then. You were sure that he would push you away, but he didn't. He just patted you awkwardly on the back as if he wasn't sure if he was doing it right.

"I was scared too..." you said quietly, glad that Joel couldn't see your face. "I haven't done this in a long time... And you were... Yourself. I saw how you were to Ellie, but I was a stranger to you."

His hand found yours, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "You were the best thing that happened to us, really. And certainly to me. But... You never told me."

"About what?"

"How did you even end up there? You said you were with a group, then you were left alone, but nothing more."

He felt it immediately. Your body tensed, you took a deep breath.

"This isn't a good time, you know. It's not even important."

"But-"

"We should get out, you know. I'll make dinner, you must be hungry."

Joel didn't protest. You could see the consternation on his face, questions swirling in his eyes, but he didn't want to push you. That was wonderful about him, he didn't push, he just waited until someone was ready to talk.

It was the second time he asked you about it, and you dodged it again. Joel understood that no one wanted to talk about difficult and painful things, but he had a strange feeling that nothing good had happened to you. And that broke his heart.

"Tommy asked me today if I would go on the next patrol with Sam and Anthony." You said as you both sat down on the couch after dinner, and you reached for the book you were currently reading together.

"I was supposed to go with them." Joel noticed.

"I know, but I thought... After that last trip for supplies, I didn't go anywhere further than the beaten patrol paths. It could be fun."

Joel didn't think it would "be fun," but he knew that you cared about feeling active and important again. He talked to Shane, he knew that your joint patrols were peaceful, but there Walsh kept an eye on you. And now?

"If that's what you want." He finally said and saw the smile on your face. "Just be careful."

"I always am." You opened the book and glanced at the next chapter. "Alright, let's get back to our Bennet sisters. I really liked them."

Your calm voice soon filled the living room, but it didn't reach Joel's mind at all. He was still considering your words, strange fears starting to churn under his skin.

If it weren't for that damned arm...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #short stories from life

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nativegirltapes · 19 hours ago

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⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚ what happens when sweetheart!reader invites drew over after their recent movie together finally wraps . . .

pairing: sweetheart!reader x drew starkey

warnings/notes: smut but not much until the end. also new reader yay <3 hoping to get her moodboard out tmr 🎀 lmk your thoughts sexies

the tension between you and drew was undeniable, to the both of you and the rest of the world; your friends, his friends, and both your guys' fans. it's not like you guys tried to hide it though, you were both constantly staring at each other whenever in the same room, especially during interviews, or the way you would both subconsciously have your hands all over each other, or maybe the way you'd both find a way to bring each other up when the other wasn't around.

and now that the movie you both starred in was wrapped, you both felt some weight fall from your shoulders. drew didn't feel like much of a pervert since you weren't exactly his costar anymore. and you didn't feel like you had to suppress the way your body reacted every time he got too close to you.

you hated how much you liked him, he made your stomach do literal flips. the feeling was mutual though, drew adored you in a way he hadn't anyone else. "nice place you got." drew said as you showed him around your apartment. "thanks." you stopped when you made it to your bedroom, drew looked around, your bedroom making him realize how much he really didn't know about you. "so, this is where the lucky guys get to come huh?"

"guess so," you plopped on your bed, letting your dress ride up your thighs. you'd be lying if you said that you didn't have intentions of getting somewhere with drew tonight after inviting him over alone. and it would also be a lie if drew wasn't hoping that you had intentions tonight, because he definitely did.

"am i one of those lucky guys?" drew questioned as he sat next to you on your bed. "are you?" you questioned him back, flashing him a little smile. "can i be?"

you shot out of your bed, standing up in front of him. "don't know. can you?" you teased him. drew chuckled, you were playing hard to get and it surprised him. you were the shy type yes, but there was something playful and even a little daring about you tonight and drew loved it. "do you like messing with me?" drew looked up at you as you still stood in front of him. it took a lot for him to not pull you down on his lap and kiss you. a lot actually. "maybe."

"we both know you want me just as bad as i want you right now," drew's hand fiddled with the end of your dress. "and what makes you so sure about that. hm?" you took a seat on his lap, his arm wrapped around your body, they felt even bigger than they looked. "i don't think you would've let me in your bedroom if you didn't." he said. and he was right, he was absolutely right and you didn't like it.

but clearly not enough because before you knew it, you were both tearing your clothes off each other and you were riding him. "fuck, i'm obsessed with you." drew said squeezing your ass as you bounced on his cock. his tight grip making you squeal a little, you knew it would leave marks but that was the last thing you were worried about. "you're so fucking perfect." you watched as drew's chest rose and fell at a certain pace. "cmon, talk to me." he begged.

your whole body felt so good that all you literally could do was let out moans and squeals, "s' good." you whispered, your eyes instinctively shut from the amount of pleasure. "wanna fuck you all the time." you said.

"yeah? you can baby. i'm all yours." drew responded. it was your first time having sex, but holy, the way your pussy felt wrapped around him; he swore he'd never even want to fuck anyone else ever again. "knew you weren't that shy."

you felt your cheeks get red at his comment, "m'gonna come!" you fell into his chest, heavy breaths leaving your lips as you collapsed on top of him. your manicured nails gripped onto his big arms, "me too." drew's breath hitched. you laid on him as you both caught your breath, "soooo, i am one of those lucky guys?"

#⊹₊ works ⋆#⊹₊ fics ⋆#꒰ ⌗ sweetheart!reader ♡ ꒱#drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey headcanons #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x y/n

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somnus-lucis-caelum · 2 hours ago

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She was acting out games again. Somnus watched, though he crossed his arms and shook his head while still watching her, as if he was an adult not believing antics that a child presented to him.

So her childhood bedroom was right next door? Had this been part of her chambers, too?

Curiously he stepped through the door – and it was a similar feeling as when Gilgamesh hit him with a shield in training. But this was a mental shield. And it was colourful. And cluttered.

Somnus’ eyes widened a little and he did not know where to look at first. There was just… so much.

“That is all yours?”

How could one person own so many little things and trinkets? It was not even that everything was immeasurably valuable and only luxury. No. There were a lot of small bits and pieces that had no monetary value – but surely a sentimental one to Aerith.

Somnus sucked in his breath, turning in a circle and trying to take in more – though it seemed where ever he looked, things only multiplied.

It was… magical in its own way. But too much. He would never know how she even found sleep in here. Was her mind not constantly jumping from one thing to the next?

“That is… a lot.”

Maybe a vague comment like that was the best course. He did not want to insult her. He just was not at all used to this kind of decoration habits. The halls and corridors of Lucis were very straightlined and simple.

“… I think Gilgamesh will be quite alright here.”, he mused, throwing her another grin. The giant Shield would not want to stay here. And imagining him in this bed with all the pink and blankets and pillows… it would be a picture for the gods.

Though there was one wall that had Somnus stepping closer. This, he wanted to look at. Countless scrolls and pieces of parchment, drawn on and painted. With so many scenes and magical happenings… it looked as if the entire wall was a mural to tell the story of a life. Her life.

“Did you draw all of these?”, he asked, his fingers gingerly smoothing out one rolled in corner of a picture. If Somnus ha dto guess, it depicted Queen Ifalna, holding a smaller Aerith on her lap. It looked divine. “You are a master artist…”

There was little need to guess where Aerith was. As always, she found a reason to talk, and talk, and to talk and talk. Each room they breezed through, she managed to have something to say, alerting the guards of her returned presence long before their eyes sighted her.

She confidently led Somnus through to 'their' door, even swept out one of her arms in a flourish to invite him further inside. Her heel swept the door then and it closed with a soft click, a moment of silence spreading out, one that she finally didn't rush in to fill.

"Yeah, this is ours." Aerith echoed, allowing time for that sentiment to sink in. She glanced around. There were so many memories in this room... but it looked as though it had been wiped completely clean in the time that she had been gone. Now it stood as a blank slate. Ready to be filled with a new chapter.

His smirk only threw her for a moment. Her curiousity swiftly changing to amusement. "Oh?" she asked, as if that had been a challenge against her. Hands folded behind her back, Aerith approached the door that connected on their left, even pausing at it to politely knock.

"Hello? Gilgamesh? I hope you don't mind the imposition, Somnus wanted to inspect your temporary living quarters." It was just teasing, underlined by the look she threw over her shoulder to the Prince. "He isn't saying anything. I think he's amazed by the artwork."

Finally putting an end to the little charade, and to the build-up of what he must think her room must look like, Aerith grabbed for the door and gave it a simple push open. She strolled inside the bedroom so easily. It was, after all, her most familiar place in the world.

There was something set down upon every single surface. And, to her gentle amusement, there she found her travelling trunk. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight. "Ohh. Guess dad told them where they could shove this." she lightly commented, stepping around the trunk with a hum.

"Of course, I am a generous partner, if you would feel more comfortable in... your personal hell." Aerith offered with a laugh, unable to keep a straight face as she motioned around for him. "You're welcome to this bed should you want it."

#holyguardian #AU | Star Crossed

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starredblood · 2 days ago

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NOWHERE GIRL

PART THIRTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: in a weird turn of events, sae-byeok tries to comfort those around her.

wc. 2.1k

warnings: angst followed by comfort

(nowhere girl masterlist)

Sae-byeok feels delirious. After everyone in the apartment fell asleep, only she remained awake trying to recollect the memories the events that occurred from only a couple hours ago. But they came in fragments. She mostly recalls seeing red when you and her went to Daejeon. She is aware how rigid her words can shift when she is angry or stressed and she regrets yelling at you. This is something she can’t find the pride to admit but, you’re the reason Ji-yeong was found. Not her.

She is losing her way of life. Her currently lifestyle is making her go soft and she’s still nowhere near her monetary goal to rescue her mom. And because Ji-yeong hasn’t been at work for three days now, it’s up to her to cough up a little extra money on the streets in order to pay rent next week. The money you gave her ran out, so instead of going to sleep she waits until everyone else is, throws on her jacket and heads out the door.

This time Sae-byeok made sure to pickpocket out of town.

By the time she arrives back to her apartment it was already the afternoon meaning she spent her entire morning pickpocketing. Her foot is aching and the only thing she had for lunch was a bulgogi onigiri she bought at the convenience store. She was ready to collapse in bed but she had responsibilities to take care of.

The lights in the apartment where still shut off and all the curtains are shut with little light escaping though them. You were long gone by the time she arrived back with her clothes and blanket neatly folded on the couch. You sent her a message when you departed at seven in the morning so she asked that you let her know when you made it home safe. But have yet to reply, it’s starting to concern her now.

Cheol was also sound asleep on his side of the bed, to her surprise. He also tends to wake up early like Sae-byeok, but perhaps he didn’t get a restful sleep last night because she wasn’t here.

She quietly counts the crumpled up balls of money and coins she was able to collect and stuffed majority of the money inside her drawer.

Her next stop is Ji-yeong’s room.

“How long have you been awake?” Sae-byeok asks after Ji-yeong unlocked her bedroom door and let her in. Her roommate jumps back into bed as she sits on the edge.

“I think like three hours ago but I lost track.” she mumbles, her tone more melancholic than usual.

She notices how puffy and lifeless her eyes are, clearly she was crying all night. Sae-byeok sighs, she wishes she could know the words to use to make Ji-yeong feel better. But maybe words aren’t enough in her case.

“So, what happened with your dad?” she asks cautiously and observes her facial expression to check if there’s a flicker of change in them.

Ji-yeong lets out an exasperated sigh and struggles to speak momentarily. “At first, he refused to see me so I had to wait for an hour until he finally changed his mind. Then he kept apologizing and apologizing and was like ‘I ask God for forgiveness everyday’ but when I told him it was all bullshit he went…I saw the dark look in his eyes again.” she looks at Sae-byeok in the eyes. “It was the same look he had when he killed mom. I had chills up my spine seeing him like that I seriously thought I was next.”

Sae-byeok felt a pang in her chest. A part of her feels like she pushed Ji-yeong into this mess.

“What’s with that look?” Ji-yeong asks. She doesn’t respond. “Don’t feel bad for telling me to visit him. I actually feel better—less guilty about his current state. I still need time I think.”

“Time to think?”

“Yeah, to process everything. But unfortunately, I only have today to do that because I picked up a twelve hour shift at work to make up for the days I missed.”

“Is that your way of telling me to get out of your room?”

Ji-yeong reaches to pat her back. “Look at you being emotionally intelligent!”

With a roll of her eyes she gets off the mattress and towards the door.

“Wait before you go,” Ji-yeong speaks up. “have you seen ‘her’ yet?” she wriggles her eyebrows when Sae-byeok turns around.

“What’s with that face and why did you say her like that?” Sae-byeok scoffs, feeling defensive suddenly.

“I take back my emotionally intelligent comment then.” she grumbles, shaking her head. “I saw her get ready this morning so I was wondering if you dropped her off or something.”

“No, I didn’t drop her off. I left before any of you woke up.” Sae-byeok says flatly and takes a hold of the door knob. She doesn’t like where this conversation is taking.

“She seemed off though.” she points out when Sae-byeok opens the door.

“Did she? Didn’t notice.”

When Sae-byeok is fully out the door it didn’t prevent her from hearing Ji-yeong say, “I can see right through you, Kang Sae-byeok!”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Later in the day, once Cheol woke up and had lunch, Sae-byeok casually mentioned the idea of seeing you. This elated the boy, who asked if it was possible to drop by your place as early as today. And because you haven’t been replying to Sae-byeok’s text, she agreed.

So, this lead the Kang siblings to stand outside your apartment door.

When you open it, Sae-byeok did notice you seem off. Your eyes were slightly swollen and tired almost like Ji-yeong’s crying ones. Maybe she came at a bad time—or bad day.

“Hi. Did something happen?” you softly, adverting your gaze down to Cheol.

“Cheol, wanted to see you.” she says plainly. “And you weren’t replying to my texts.”

“Hi, Noona.” Cheol greets you bashfully.

Sae-byeok can readily tell that you were forcing your face muscles to smile at Cheol. You bend down your knees to meet at his level.“Hey! I’m glad you wanted to stop by to see me I have some things for you.”

“Seriously?” he blinks.

You nod and tell them to enter the apartment before rushing up the stairs. Minutes later, you come back with a wooden crate full of supplies and plop it down in front of the boy.

Cheol sends you a skeptical glance. You encourage him to look inside the basket. There were full marker sets, graphite pencils of different grades, paint brushes with dried up paint, acrylic paint, and small empty canvases. Maybe there was more in the basket he missed.

“Is this all for me?” he mutters in disbelief.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Noona.” he says, contemplating whether to reach over to embrace you but held back the urge in fear. You could sense his hesitation so you outstretch your arms and engulf him in a hug.

When you still embrace him, you look up at Sae-byeok, a flicker of sadness was in your eyes. She’s sure of it. She has a hard time grasping your kindness and selflessness during rough times like this. Your gesture made her chest get this achy feeling again.

After the hug, you encourage him to practice on your old sketchpad that had only two of your past drawings on them from high school.

Once he gets busy unloading everything you got him on the floor, you pull Sae-byeok aside. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply that is a bad move on my end knowing what we went through last night. But I also have something for you and Ji-yeong too by the way.”

“What?”

Before she could process it, you usher her up the stairs to your small bed space. Due to the space being so small she had to duck her head and sit on the mattress, watching you rummage through your piles of knickknacks you haven’t yet organized.

You plop down next to her. Right next to her. Sae-byeok wasn’t used to feeling someone’s leg brush up right against hers. You uncurl your fingers to reveal a black woven rope bracelet on your palm and reach your hand out to her.

Sae-byeok bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t know if she can handle so much of your tender hearted acts when she doesn’t think she deserves even an ounce of it. However, it would be cruel to turn down this gesture so she reaches to take it.

“And can you give this to, Ji-yeong?” you ask and pull out a thin necklace with a small firefly pendant. Sae-byeok sighs, but nods and takes that too.

“Thank you.” Sae-byeok says, lowly.

“I just got one favor to ask.” you say with rapid fire speed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Can I paint you for my last project?”

Sae-byeok whips her head to look at you. She forgot the lack of personal space there was in between you two. “What?”

“Can…I paint you—“

“I heard you. But why me?” she asks, frowning.

“You have a unique face.” you answer simply but her face morphs into bewilderment.

“Excuse me?”

“Your eyes are sharp and cool but your face shape is soft and delicate. You have great features for a standout portrait.” you explain with ease. Sae-byeok’s lip part slightly. No one ever talks about her looks, especially not so carefully thought out. “It’s the type of unique face that’s almost—hm…mythical.”

She scoffs at the sheer disbelief she’s feeling. “You’re just bluffing.”

“There’s no reason for me to do that. I had other people as options but you stood out the most.” you say, genuinely. “So, do I have permission?”

Sae-byeok blinks at you. The idea of you having to stare at her face and think about her features for hours is an unfathomable thought. But you appear to be dead set on this decision, you didn’t laugh or mock her to convince her.

“Okay.”

She stares down at the bracelet and fiddles with it, her eyes soften up.

Sae-byeok has a hard time understanding that there is beauty in this world. Growing up in the North only taught her how to fear, and once her managed to flee South she had to became a shell of a person. Cheol, for a long time, was her only light in this new isolated world. She remembers briefly being like her little brother when she was his age, timid and quiet but showed her love. But as the people in her life either died or failed to escape the North, she forgot what it was like to feel and give love.

She never had time to figure out who she was as a person. To her, it was a waste of time. It was better to guard herself from the outside world that was so cruel and unusual.

“Ji-yeong said you looked off this morning.” Sae-byeok says out of the blue, feeling courageous to let her guard down ever so slightly.

“Oh.” is all you said to her surprise.

With another pang of courage hitting her system, she tilts her head to look at you.

You’ve proved Sae-byeok wrong time and time again. She used to be so sure you weren’t this selfless person you presented yourself to be when you came to live in their apartment back in March. But she’s ashamed to admit that she was wrong about your character. Very wrong.

“You did a lot for me last night. I won’t forget it.” she says after more and more momentary silence.

“It’s not—“

“Quit being so selfless for once.” she says in annoyance. She straightens up her posture and exhales trying to gather her words. “Can—Can you look at me?”

Hesitantly, you do as she says. Your face screams of worry and fear.

“What’s wrong?” Sae-byeok barely manages to say while looking into your eyes. “Tell me.”

She feels vulnerable under your tender gaze, noticing that you were studying her facial features carefully. It takes everything in her not to break away.

“I feel sad.” you say, shakily. “I still can’t believe my parents let me go so easily...” your chest visibly heaving. Before your lips start trembling you glance away.

Sae-byeok gulps. Before her brain could start figuring out what to do next she hears Cheol’s footsteps. You both instinctively scoot farther away from each other and compose yourselves.

“Is everything okay?” you ask the boy when he appears from the top of the stairs. Sae-byeok heard the glumness you tried terribly to mask.

“I don’t know how to work this, Noona.” he pouts, holding out a set of watercolor paint.

“Here, I will show you.” you say and hurry to get off of your bed to lead Cheol back downstairs. “This is watercolor paint. It’s dried up right now because you need to activate it with water.”

When Sae-byeok knows you’ve made your way to the kitchen she lets out a set of groans and palms her face. She doesn’t know why she is so bad at this. Comforting—a complete mystery to her.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts

#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #kang sae byeok squid game #kang sae byeok x fem!reader #fanfic #wlw #wlw fanfic #saebyeok #sae byeok #kang saebyeok x reader #kang saebyeok

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

Text

Look, Don't Touch 3

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

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

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: my back hurts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Bucky's snores roll through the apartment. He's just as irritating asleep as he is awake. Your back racks and your legs cramp as you slump in the chair. Your eyes droop now and again only the roll open and flick to the blue digits of the clock.

The minutes tick by like hours. His peaceful tempo irks you. It adds to the restlessness of your captivity.

You don't blame him entirely. You're a dumb fucking bitch. Why didn't you do some scouting before you waltzed in? Wait it out to make sure it's clear.

You go back and retrace your steps, over and over. Fuck. You're so stupid. So stupid. But not as stupid as that fucker thinks.

Or as weak.

He has that chip on his shoulder. He thinks his trauma overrides everyone else's. That no one else has been through shit. What you've been through you don't fucking think about because it's not worth it. He doesn't realise he's wasting his energy being such a miserable shit.

You stare through the window for a while. The city sparkles here. Not like in your apartment where it blares like a broken television.

Your head sinks down as your fatigue clouds your obstinacy. Your eyelids meet and your body slackens as much as it can within your bounds. The last look at the clock read about 3am.

Your mind swirls in a miasma. Thick and viscous. Your skull thumps like sledge on concrete. Then all at once you're awake and shivering.

The ice cold water seeps into your clothes as you gasp and gulp. Your lashes are webbed with moisture as you drip with the frigid rivulets. Bucky chuckles as a bucket hangs from his grip.

"Morning sunshine."

Your teeth chatter as you sneer back at him. You glance over at the city skyline. It's still a dusky mix of grey and blue.

"0500. Up and at 'em," he proclaims chipperly.

You shut your mouth and bite down on your shivers. This is what he wants. He's trying to break you. Well it's not gonna happen so soon. You've seen the videos on the dark web. You won't be scared by this emo bitch.

"Gotta keep a routine." He taunts.

You roll your eyes. Your gaze catches on the shine on the floor. You must've been out like a light. There's plastic under you. Maybe not just for the water. Well, you're not squeamish.

"I usually start with a run. What do you do when you crawl out of your hole at one in the afternoon? Probably just the thought of Steve gets your heart pumping," he grits.

"It helps," you snicker. "I've seen the real thing so... I'm certain my imagination is much better. The vibrator too."

"Fucking smart ass," he mutters and stomps away.

It's not a victory but it isn't defeat. You can match his energy, even if he's got you tied up like a dog. You wiggle in seat as that thought tickles something in you. You're twisted just like he said but he doesn't get to do that to you. Only Steve.

He shuffles around in the bedroom. He emerges in track pants and a long sleeve tee. The legs are a bit too long for him. Steve's got a few inches on him, probably in more way than one.

"I'll do about an hour," he taps on his watch. "Now you don't go getting into trouble."

He scoffs and heads for the door. You tempo your breath as the goosebumps prickle over you in waves. Your clothes are soaked through. The door snaps shut and you huff.

There's not much you can do. You close your eyes again. You're not going to sleep but you'll save your energy. As you languish in the slow drip of water pattering onto the plastic, your clothes grow stale and tepid. The wet fabric is sandpaper on your skin.

He returns, whistling. He doesn't acknowledge you as he sets up in the kitchen. He puts his earbuds in the case and lets his music blast from the speaker. It's the kind of rock music a teenager listens to when they try to show off.

You don't move. You're not going to let him see you squirm. He rattles around in the kitchen.

"Gotta get lots of protein after a workout," he calls through as a pan sizzles. The aromas crawl over you and fill your lungs. Your tongue floods with saliva. "Lots of eggs, bacon, hm, oh Steve got the good greek yogurt."

You don't answer his mocking monologue. You know what he's doing. Well if he thinks you've never gone hungry, that's his own martyr complex fueling his ego.

He comes out with a full plate and sits across from you. He plants his feet wide, his plate in one hand as he shovels greedily with the fork. He stuffs his mouth and hums.

You watch him calmly. He smirks and keeps pigging away on the food. There's enough for both of you and then some. You grimace.

"How are you feeling? Hungry?" He asks.

"Repulsed. You have grease on your chin."

He pokes his tongue as he try to lick it up. You nearly gag at the remnants of food in his mouth. You don’t, you won't, look away.

"I can hear your stomach," he says through a mouthful. "And your heart. Your lungs, too."

"Yeah, I know you're a freak. Do you even know how the Russian fucks mangled you or did that go out the window with all the murder?"

He gnashes his teeth down and narrows his eyes. His smile faded. It's your turn to grin.

"Real fucked up from what I saw. There were some leaked classified docs after that weirdo Sokovian went off and planted those bombs." You tisk. "Children? Really? That's really der--"

He's fast. Well, he is a super soldier. In an instant, he's in front of you, the plate is on the floor, and the fork is standing in your thigh as pain sears through your muscles.

You yipe then muffle it to a groan. You take a deep breath as your lashes flick and you stare at the blood staining around the tines. You exhale through your lips and look at him. You don't stop smiling.

You cackle, "hoooooo, I got you, Buck. I fucking got you."

He stands straight and kicks the plate, scattering whats left of the eggs and bacon. He stomps away and balls his fists, grumbling and snarling. You laugh if only to keep from whimpering.

There's pain beneath the swell of adrenaline. It's going to really hurt in a few minutes but right now, you feel great. You're awake.

📷

Bucky appears again. His hair is damp and his skin is speckled with the aftermath of a shower. He has only a towel around his waist. Are you supposed to be impressed?

He doesn't say a word as he moves around the apartment. He goes to the windows and looks out at the city. You stare at the couch dully. You're getting bored and your leg is throbbing.

He circles around as you raise your brows, biding off the fatigue. Suddenly, he's behind you. He reaches around a rips the fork free. You grunt as blood pools up and spreads further along the denim.

He wipes the tines on your sleeve, "I didn't get the artery, in case you're scared." He strides around and twirls the cutlery, "strange cause judging by your pulse, you're pretty fucking content with yourself."

"Ha, is that what you want, hm?" You pout mockingly. "You wanna make a girl's heart race. Poor widdle winter baby don't got no place in this world. He wants to be wanted--"

"You talk a pretty big game for someone as tiny as you are." He comes around and bends to look you in the eye. "What do you got going on? Who's going to even know you didn't make it home?"

You hiss through a gritted smile, "you say that like I care. I've been pretty honest with you and myself. Maybe try a bit of introspection."

"There's different types," he backs up and sits again. "The quiet ones. The violent ones. The talkers. Now, there's different kinds of talkers. The ones who threaten, then there's the ones who ramble. They talk so they don't gotta feel--"

"You got me, Mr. Barnes. I'm so fucking scared of you I'm gonna piss my pants. You wanna watch again?"

He chortles, "there ya go."

"There I go." You sneer. "What's the game plan here, buddy? Starve me out? Think it'll happen before baby boy gets back? You gonna save some for him? Let him know you saved his ass. For once it wasn't the other way around huh?"

"Shut up."

"Or maybe that's a bad plan, huh? Steve might lose his shit a little. Realise he's not untouchable. I mean, a worm like me crawled right in--"

"I said shut up," he snips.

"You said it, I'm a talker. I gotta talk so I don't shake in my boots. Must feel like a big man. I mean I don't got Hydra juice in my veins and you could snap me like a twig," you scoff. "It's gotta make you a little hard."

He tilts his head and squints, "you ever think of anything else?"

"Don't worry, you're not in here," you nod your head. "It's all for the Captain. Second best again, sergeant."

"You can't help yourself," he leans his elbows on his legs.

"Well, I broke in, didn't I? Pretty clear I'm a bit off--"

"No fucking shame."

"It's really weird, don't you think? We only talk about shame when it's a woman. Men, they can do whatever the fuck they want and they're called outgoing and brave or committed, whatever."

"Cut that shit," he snips.

"It's true. But maybe that's not what this is. Maybe this is something else. Something more personal. Maybe you're jealous," you try to shrug. "The winter bozo got no fans to stalk him. Mm, sad."

He stares at you then his gaze falls to your leg. He stands up and marches off. No answer. Typical. That's the thing about men, they can't admit when they're wrong. Can't own up to their faults but everyday a woman has to pay penance for just existing.

He stomps back to you and slaps his hand down on your injured leg. The burning sensation of his palm tears a yowl from your and you look down as thick grains of salt tumble out between his fingers. He mashes the salt into your wound. You gnash your teeth and grunt.

"FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK!" You seethe through your clamped jaw.

He laughs, "this is kinda fun." He puts his forehead against yours. "And I can't help but agree with you, doll. Why the fuck am I fighting my programming?" He squeezes your leg and you wheeze. "Let's get nice and cozy with the soldier. He's got all the good ideas."

You snort and twitch, halfway between agony and amusement. You push against him and snap your teeth.

"Finally, something interesting." You rasp.

He smirks and pushes of you. You groan as he turns cracks his neck. He tosses the salt onto the plastic sheet. You watch his metal hand open and close.

He spins and struts into the kitchen. He comes back with your notebook. A strike of rage swells in you. Fuck.

He stands in front of you and licks his fingertips. He clears his throat and flutters through the pages.

"'I went to his place. It's nice. Different than being outside. His bed is big, it's a wonder he never fucks in it. Seems like Cap is afraid of commitment.'" He guffaws. "You really think you know him?"

"Stream of consciousness." You utter.

"Sure," he skims the lines on the pages. "'I think I had my biggest O in his bed. Just with my fingers. I could smell him around me. If I closed my eyes, he was there--'"

He shifts and the towel twitches. Your lips slant. Disgusting.

"Do you really think he'd want to touch something like you?"

"I can draw a line between fact and fiction. How about you?" You chirp. "You can't even remember how many innocent people you killed--"

"It's getting old," he growls.

"Maybe Stevie won't want a piece. I'm not delusional, just obsessive. But you-" you nod to his crotch. "Seems like you're getting a bit too into this."

He lowers the notebook and grins. "You ever actually fucked a guy?"

"What does it matter?"

"Is that it? You think Steve wants to pluck the flower in your dusty little garden?"

"It was never--" you huff and wiggle in the chair. "Look, you don't get it. It was never supposed to be real. It's like a TV show. A distraction. Something to do."

"Wow, that's sad."

"Yeah, but it's the truth. A lot of people can't face themselves in the mirror."

"Oh virtue," he scoffs and throws the notebook on the couch behind him. "Is it honesty or self-pity?"

"Bit of both." You look up defiantly as he steps closer. "Look at me. I know what I am. I'm a creep but I don't deny it. What you are, you can't even say it out loud."

He exhales and his chest compressed. He puts his hands on his hips as he glowers at you. His towel tents and you frown.

"Dude, get that away from me."

"What's the matter? Is this the closest you've been?" He taunts.

You lean back and keep your eyes up, "I've seen a dick. Touched a few even. Trust me, I'm not interested."

"I could put on the suit. There's a back-up in his closet."

"Nasty."

"Look who's talking," he retorts. "You think I'm fucking serious?"

"I know the things you're capable of, soldat." You challenge.

His eyes flare and his knuckles flash across your vision, bone snapping against your cheek. You close your mouth as it floods with iron. You swallow the blood and wiggle a back tooth with your tongue. You snicker.

You face him as the swelling thrums hotly under the surface. He glares back at you. You lean back and round your eyes. You've never been good at that cutesy shit.

He smirks, "keep going, baby. We'll see who breaks first."

You lower your lashes and sniffle. He hovers and you steel yourself. You lurch forward and open your mouth. The chair tilts with your weight and you bite through the cotton as your teeth meet the towel. You pinch something beneath it. Him.

He exclaims and punches your head. He grunts as the chair tips and falls on its side. Your head bounces against the chair. The towel heaps next to you as he growls and cradles his erection.

"The fuck? You are deranged!"

"I told you to move back," you slur as silver stars spatter across your vision.

"Fucking bitch," he hisses and leaves you on the plastic. You laugh until it fades into a dry crackle. You hit your head pretty good and he got a few good shots in too.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #look don't touch #series

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oncasette · 3 days ago

Note

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

annnd let's go with... "my mom asked about you the other day." with eddie munson

❤️❤️❤️

good for me

summary: 0.5k

“I’m sure you aced it,” he laughs.

“Don’t jinx it.”

“I couldn’t. Nothing could jinx you and your brain.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m totally blaming you if I flunked it, now, though,” you scoff, smiling. His laughter rings through the line.

or the one where eddie calls you every day after class.

warnings: none

masterlist

You curl the phone’s chord around your finger, uncurl it, then wrap it tight until the tip turns color. Being away from Eddie was slowly getting easier. Leaving Hawkins for college had been rough, at first, but you were getting more and more used to the idea of living somewhere else, now. Your class load made time fly by a bit faster during the week, your roommate helped keep you busy on the weekends that your boyfriend couldn’t make the drive out, and you never missed a phone call before you went to sleep. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you with a wakeup call on mornings you had class before he had work.

Still, as much as hearing his voice eased you through the time spent apart, it seemed to deepen the ache of not having him near even more.

“How was your test, baby?” he asks. You hear the sheets ruffle on his end and the scent of his bedroom clogs your senses. You never thought you’d miss the way someone’s room smelled before.

“It was fine. I feel alright about it. Won’t really know until I get it back next week, you know,” you sigh, dropping the chord to turn onto your side. You shove your face further into the shirt you’d stolen from him and turned into a pillowcase.

“I’m sure you aced it,” he laughs.

“Don’t jinx it.” “I couldn’t. Nothing could jinx you and your brain.” “Yeah, whatever. I’m totally blaming you if I flunked it, now, though,” you scoff, smiling. His laughter rings through the line.

“Alright, I’ll take that,” he says. The conversation seems to stall, but you don’t mind. You’re content with listening to him breathe, pretending you can hear his heartbeat pulsing through the phone and into your fingertips.

“Baby?” he asks. You think you hear him sitting up.

“My mom asked about you the other day,” you say.

“Did she? What’d she ask about?” Your stomach flutters at the memory.

“Just, the usual, you know? How you’re doing, how we’re doing, if you’re still working at the shop,” you say softly. “Sorry, I don’t know why I brought that up.”

“No, I’m glad you brought it up,” he says. “I’m glad your mom likes me.”

“That doesn’t mean she likes you,” you counter, pausing. “But she does… she likes you a whole lot, Eds.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. You think you could listen to his laugh for an entire day and not tire of it. You think, if you had one wish, that you’d wish for it to be the last thing you heard right before you died.

“She’s happy we’re together… that we stayed together, I mean. After I left and everything,” you say softly. “She thinks you’re really good for me.”

“I think you’re really good for me, too, sweetheart.” A beat passes, thrumming through your bones.

“I’m excited to see you tomorrow,” you say softly.

“Me, too. Are you still leaving after class?”

“One o’clock on the dot,” you chirp.

“Good. I’ll be the one with the cookie cake.” “You’re getting me a cookie cake?” you gasp.

“Why? D’you want one?” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Maybe.” “Alright, then I’ll be there with the greatest cookie cake you’ve ever seen.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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dollfacefantasy · 1 day ago

Text

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ♡

pairing: redk!clark kent x fem!reader x soulless!sam winchester

summary: your boyfriend sam has been acting strange lately. good thing your other boyfriend clark is willing to help you figure out what's going on with him. unfortunately for you, he doesn't get very far before he starts acting weird too.

cw: nsfw (18+), au, smut, mild dubcon, threesome, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, facefucking, overstimulation, praise/degradation, hints of asphyxiation kink

a/n: comm for my wife @fearcvlt. thank you to the anon who infected us with the sam-clark disease 🙏 also i know sam doesn't lose his soul till season 6 but it's my fic so this is early seasons sam. don't like it kiss me about it.

Sam has been acting weird lately.

You’re not sure what it is. You can’t pinpoint an exact detail about him that’s shifted. From the surface, he looks the same. He still dresses the same. His voice sounds the same. His hands and mouth feel the same. It drives you crazy, not being able to narrow down what you mean. What you know has changed.

Because while the alterations are imperceptible, you know they’re real. All of that stuff hasn’t changed on a technical level, but to you, his girlfriend, someone who knows his very being like the palm of your own hand, it’s not the same.

Physically, he’s your Sam. The one you’ve been with since your second semester of college. His dark brown hair hangs too close to his eyes like always. The warmth in his hands radiates with regularity as they coast across your and Clark’s bodies. His words reach your ears in the soft, calculated manner you’ve come to expect from him.

But you swear on everything you have in this world, on both your lovers’ lives, that all of this comes with a new note of unfamiliarity.

While his appearance hasn’t changed, the way his eyes land upon your face has. His gaze feels cold. It nearly stings when it connects with your own. You may recognize his touch, but he’s rougher now. He doesn’t handle you like a cherished doll, nor does he explore Clark with his usual reverence. Instead he tugs and he grabs. His fingers dig into flesh harder than ever before. Scratches and bruises litter the two of you after a night spent together. And while his voice rings out just like it did when you met him in your first criminal justice class all those years ago, the tender embellishments in his sentences have vanished. Vacant silences lie where sweetheart and honey used to appear.

You sound like a lunatic describing it.

“Can’t you just talk to him?” you plead with Clark for the third time this week. You attempt persuasion by flaunting your puppy eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.

He stands before the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom while pulling on his shirt. The hazy morning light shines through the nearby window onto his physique, highlighting the contours of muscle decorating his abdomen before they’re covered up by the scarlet sweater he chooses to wear today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, baby,” he responds, gazing at you through the reflection.

You boost yourself off your mattress where you’d been sprawled out. Approaching him from behind, you snake your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his firm back. He doesn’t have to face you to know the pout that’s taken residence on your lips.

“Well, I can’t think of everything,” you huff, “Just maybe see if something’s wrong. Like maybe we did something and we don’t know-”

“You’re overthinking,” he cuts in while fastening his belt into place.

“You don’t know that because you’ve never actually asked. Maybe he feels like he can’t tell us what’s bothering him for some reason. Or it could be like a guy thing. He blows me off whenever I try to help, so maybe he’ll be more comfortable with just you,” you insist.

He sighs and shakes his head again, reaching for the brush nearby. Clark’s hair rarely ever falls out of place. The only moments you can recall seeing him disheveled are those when he lays in bed with you and Sam, nude body coated in a light sweat and pressed against each of yours. Yet he tends to his black tresses more often than you take care of your own hair.

“It’s not a guy thing,” he chuckles, “He just doesn’t wanna talk about whatever’s going on in his head. You know how he gets sometimes. I’m sure he’ll bounce back soon.”

“But it’s been like over a month. Ever since he went on that trip with his brother, he’s been weird,” you continue, squeezing him as if that would somehow convince him of your point.

“You know his childhood is a sore spot. Maybe being around him brought up some bad memories,” he offers and shrugs.

“But he would have told us about that,” you refute.

You release Clark from your hold as he turns around, his outfit all ready for the day. As you look up at him, your eyes remain full of concern for the absent part of your trio. Your present boyfriend smirks at the worried expression before cupping your cheeks and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“It’s gonna be ok, babe. He’ll be ok,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Just if you get the chance… please talk to him,” you try once more.

“I will,” he agrees. His hands fall to your waist where they knead the flesh lightly.“Try not to worry too much today, alright? We got that party tonight. You’re gonna look all pretty, we’re gonna have fun, and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He kisses you once more before walking towards the bedroom door. You nod in response to his words and force your shoulders to relax. The mention of his work party you were all going to attend later helps a little to distract you. At the very least it gives you something else to think about for the time being.

Before he heads out, you blow him a kiss like you always do. He pretends to catch it, flashing those fangs of his in a lazy grin.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says before finally leaving your view.

Despite your assurance to Clark, you spend much of the day thinking about Sam and possible causes for his perpetually sour mood. Unfortunately, you can’t think of anything that seems like a realistic possibility.

While your anxiety wants you to blame yourself, you really don’t believe something you did is responsible. And he had gone on that trip with his brother a month ago, but they’d been going on their ‘hunting trips’ pretty regularly for the last two years. He never got like this afterwards. Even when his brother annoyed him, he’d just vent about it to the two of you before letting it go.

You try to reason that law school might be getting more stressful. All of his free time not allocated to you and Clark, or to his brother in the Impala, goes to textbooks. He spends hours poring over notes and articles and journals. Maybe that’s it. You try to convince yourself it could be. At least until he and Clark come home for the night with hopefully a more concrete answer.

As the day shifts into evening, you busy yourself with getting ready for the party tonight. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Just some gathering the paper Clark now worked at was throwing. As a new hire, he was one of the employees being celebrated, warranting your and Sam’s invitations.

It’s around six-thirty when you finally hear the front door open. Two pairs of shoes shuffle in. Good. That means Clark met him on campus or Sam drove over to Clark's job after his last class. There would be plenty of time to talk over the course of the distance between your shared house and either of those locations.

You put your earrings back down on the dresser and approach the door, straining your ears in hopes of scoping out any tense silences or relieved chatter. In the kitchen, you can hear the fridge open and then close. A sigh. You narrow your eyes. Was it a sigh of tiredness from work or frustration at the other man? The words that follow answer your question.

“She’s just worried about you,” Clark says. You bite your lip, sensing this may not be going well.

“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t do a great job of disguising that,” Sam responds.

“Then just talk to her. It’s only still a problem because you’re being cagey.”

“I’m being cagey because there’s nothing to talk about. She’s looking for something that isn’t there, insisting-”

You step through the doorway and head towards the sound of their voices. Barefoot and with the zipper on your dress only halfway pulled, you enter the room to join them. Sam finishes his sentence as both his and Clark’s eyes set on you.

“Hi,” you interrupt weakly.

The taller of the two rolls his eyes while your other boyfriend raises his brows in acknowledgement before taking another sip of his drink.

“I just… heard you both talking and thought I should come in here…” you continue. It’s only been a few seconds, but already, it’s starting to feel like you should have waited for them to come to you.

You walk a couple more paces into the space, finding yourself standing equidistant from both your lovers. Your gaze alternates between them before focusing on Sam.

“I know I’m probably worrying over nothing. And I know you said nothing is wrong,” you say, keeping your tone as neutral as you can, “You just seem different. And maybe nothing is actively wrong, but I just want you to know if something happened or like if you’re thinking about something differently that me and Clark-”

“You’ll what? What will you both do?” he asks, “I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to make up some problem that doesn’t exist so you can feel accomplished when you fix it?”

“No,” you answer right away, hurt infecting your features.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know…” you say. Your resolve wilts away with each second his harsh eyes stare at you.

“Just stop then. Stop asking me to give you a reason, stop talking about me behind my back, just stop,” he rants, “Did you ever consider you might be projecting? That maybe something is different with you that you don’t want to accept.”

“What?” you ask. Your pained expression infuses with a bout of confusion.

“Think about it. Me and Clark, we know what we’re doing everyday. I’m going to school, he’s going to work. We have our plans in place. You? What are you doing? Ever since you graduated last year, you’ve been floundering, bouncing from idea to idea. Maybe you’re the one who’s fallen off the tracks, but you can’t admit it,” he accuses.

Your eyes widen. That statement cuts you deep, through multiple layers. It is the truth in a sense, but to have it thrown in your face by someone who supposedly cares about you hurts worse than you would have anticipated.

“That’s not true,” you deny.

“Yes it is, and you know it. You wanna blame me for how you’re feeling. You’re losing control of your own life so you want to find something you can fix,” he continues.

“Sam, stop,” Clark interjects on your behalf.

You just stand there, feeling even more lost than you had earlier. He was acting different. You were sure of it. But now you also feel like he maybe has a point. What if he is acting the exact same, and you’re the one losing your grip? Clark hasn’t been as concerned as you, and maybe that’s for a reason.

“What?” Sam says, his eyes flitting towards your other boyfriend, “She’s allowed to talk about me, but I can’t defend myself?”

“You’re not defending yourself, you’re attacking her,” Clark responds before sighing. He puts his drink down and walks closer to the both of you. “Both of you just need to take a second and calm down.”

In the pause that follows, the pain Sam’s words caused doesn’t subside. The throb only emanates from deeper inside your chest. You glance up at your darker-haired boyfriend before turning to the one you could barely recognize.

“I’m not trying to make you defend yourself. I really just feel like something’s been up with you lately. But if you say there isn’t, then there isn’t, and I won’t mention it again,” you finally say.

“There isn’t,” he tells you without more than a second of consideration.

Awkward quiet settles for more than a pause now. You’re not sure if you can just act normal after that, but you don’t want to create more tension by hightailing it to the bedroom. Both of them seem to go with the former. Clark meanders his way back to the counter while Sam turns and digs through his bag for something.

You decide it might be best to follow along. Swiveling on your heel, you walk away from the kitchen and down the hall towards your shared bedroom to finish getting ready. The silence no longer feels calm; it weighs down on you, pressing hard enough to crack.

As you dust powder across your cheek bones and eyelids, you force your breaths to remain even. You swallow hard to prevent your eyes from watering. The mascara wand coats your lashes with black that will stream down your skin if you shed any tears. For a final touch, you spread some sticky gloss over your lips, watching in the mirror how they shine with the glittery substance.

When your face is painted to your liking, you pull on a pair of tights under the crimson fabric of your dress and then sit on the edge of your bed to slip on your shoes. While fumbling with the one on your left foot, you hear another person enter the room.

Your pupils dart towards the door to find Clark there with a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he starts gently, “You almost ready?”

You just nod, not really in a chatty mood.

He returns the gesture and comes closer, approaching as if you’re a wounded animal.

“You look really beautiful, baby,” he compliments.

“Thanks.”

“Here. Let me help,” he offers and crouches before you.

He takes your leg between his large hands, rubbing up and down over the smoothness of your tights for a moment. His fingers then fall to the sleek strap causing you hassle. He pushes the little piece of material through the metal clasp. Despite the size of his digits, they move with nimble precision.

“He didn’t mean that stuff he said,” he tells you, voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t leave the bedroom.

“Then why didn’t he come in here?” you ask. Your voice quivers a little bit. You know Clark hears it from the way his big, blue eyes lift to connect with your own.

“He’s just being pissy right now. But I know he didn’t mean it, alright? Neither of us think you’re off track, but even if you were, it’s not the end of the world. You still have time to figure things out. We love you either way,” he says, patting your leg.

Almost as an extra gesture of reassurance, he plants a soft kiss on your kneecap. It’s intended to be innocent. Something wholesome to let you feel the pure love he’s trying to pour into you with his words. But you can’t help but feel a flicker of desire in your belly. The sight of it only serves to remind you of how he does that when he’s spreading your legs apart and kissing up your inner thighs to somewhere much more intimate.

“He’ll come around. For the record, he is acting different. It’s not just you,” he reassures, reaching up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

The look in your eyes has softened from one of hurt to something more tender. You nod in response, and he smiles.

“That’s my girl. Don’t look so sad anymore. I wanna show off how beautiful you are tonight. Can’t do that if you don’t let anyone see that pretty smile,” he praises.

Your face lifts with the expression he describes. It only increases the curve of his own lips. He rewards you with a small peck. When he pulls away, you can see a splotch of lip gloss on his cupid’s bow. It’s tempting to try and wipe it away with another kiss, but instead you take the more effective route and swipe your thumb across the skin.

“Ready?” he asks and reaches for your hand as he rises to his feet again.

You clasp your smaller fingers around his and stand up. “Almost. Zip me up?” you say and turn to show him the semi-closed fabric.

He chuckles fingers finding the zipper and adjusting it for you with ease. “Always.”

You stand with your back pressed against the wall, drink in hand, eyes surveilling the room. It’s only around nine o’clock, but you’re more than ready to go home. You keep a smile on your face for Clark’s sake, not wanting to look miserable around the people he has to see on a daily basis.

The party isn’t even horrible. It’s just fine. The ritzy hotel dining room they rented out is fine. The music playing at a reasonable volume in the background is fine. The food is fine. The drinks are fine. The smalltalk is fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It’s all fine.

Including you. You’re fine too. Not at all upset about earlier. The car ride here had been dead silent. No apology from Sam. Not even a word of acknowledgement. But that’s ok! You could deal with it.

Once the three of you had arrived and made your way inside, you introduced yourselves like you always did, clear enough to convey that you were all a package deal but vague enough to not draw the ire of less open-minded people. From there, you let Clark tell some stories about the both of you. You made sure to laugh at all his jokes, smile at him with the most adoring eyes, and sing his praises to any person who wanted to hear them.

After a while of that, he turned you both loose. You first grabbed some appetizers and a drink and then landed where you are now. Sam had trailed close behind you even though he still wasn’t saying anything.

He’s beside you against the wall. His shoulder leans against it, his body angled towards yours. You can feel his eyes drifting along your figure, but you don’t give in to the temptation of a response.

“You gonna freeze me out all night?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Do you plan on apologizing at all?” you ask, passive aggression lacing in every word.

He exhales a laugh and reaches for your face. His fingers guide your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Is that what you need, baby?” he mocks, “You need me to say sorry?”

You scowl and try to look away, but his digits dig into your skin. He keeps you right where he wants you. Leaning in close to you, his breath fans across your neck.

“Would it really make you feel better if I said I didn’t mean it? Would it really change anything about how you feel? I don’t think so,” he murmurs, “I think you’d like it more if I kissed it better.”

The low tone of voice combined with his proximity fires up that warmth in your tummy you felt earlier. You try to suppress it and maintain your glare.

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, craning your neck for some space.

“What? I thought you’d wanna make up,” he says.

“I- It’s not that. We’re at a party for Clark’s work. It’s not like we’re high schoolers who can just go find some closet to make out,” you huff, “Plus, you definitely are acting different now. You’re always the explainer, and Clark is always the one who wants to kiss things better.”

That brings a small smirk to his face. “We can’t? Or we shouldn’t?” he teases. He moves in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been a little different lately. But why is that a bad thing? I feel great.”

“Yeah, but it’s not great when you’re being mean all the time now…”

“Mean? Or direct?” he asks, “I’ve never said anything to hurt you. Even when you think I’m being mean, I’m only speaking without sugar coating because I know you can take it. And I know that sometimes you need to hear it. You’re strong. Just as smart as me and Clark. You just need a little push sometimes.”

Your heart beats quicker in your chest. His words are one thing, but the way his rich eyes peer into yours are another. His thumb drags back and forth across your bottom lip now, almost as if coaxing some form of a response.

“It’s still mean even if you don’t intend it that way. It still hurts,” you say. Even if your face can’t move, your eyes fall. “I miss the you who wasn’t so sharp all the time.”

You soften your words, hoping to break the tough exterior that had shielded him for the last month. Though you see no change in his expression. No shift in his gaze.

“You’ll have to learn to love this one just as much then,” he replies.

It stings. The words slice like a blade. He doesn’t care about the falter on your face though. He ducks in, kissing along your jaw to your earlobe. A small gasp leaves you at the soft, wet touches. You squirm in place, nearly spilling your drink as the liquid sloshes within the confines of the glass.

“I can show you how. Just gotta let me,” he whispers. His hand falls from your face to your neck, wrapping it in a seductive embrace.

Your eyes flutter, and for a split second, you want to give in. His lips on your skin feel like traces of heaven. The soft words he speaks hit your ears like gentle caresses lulling you into compliance. But then you remember where you are and who you're here for.

“Sam, stop,” you whimper.

But he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t just stay in place either. His hand tightens around your throat. It digs in a little, pressing you against the wall. You can still breathe just fine, but the threat of air loss is right there, teasing you just barely.

Your eyes widen now. Sam had never been so aggressive in the bedroom before, let alone in public.

“We’re here for Clark. You’re gonna embarrass him,” you remind.

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” he breathes.

Before you can squeak out any more words of protest, a large hand is curling over Sam’s shoulder and tugging him back. Clark looks at him with a raised brow before his focus shifts to you.

“I guess you two made up?” he asks.

You open your mouth to clarify with some version of what actually happened, but Sam cuts you off. “Something like that.”

He takes you by the wrist, spinning so that he’s against the wall while you’re in front of him with your back against his chest. His chin rests atop your head as his hands rub your arms. Clark looks on, almost suspicious at the complete flip in attitudes.

“So how much longer do we have to be here? They’ve already played ‘Mr. Brightside’ like three times. This thing’s gotta be winding down soon, and I’m pretty eager to get back so we can make up some more,” Sam says.

“Not too much longer,” Clark says, the words slow and edged with uncertainty, “I’ll start saying goodbyes.”

You nod gratefully, your appreciation shining through even without words. Sam smirk prevails on his face yet again.

“Sounds good. Just don’t take too long or we might have to get a head start without you,” he says. His tone indicates he’s teasing, but with how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that.

“I won’t. Just give me a few,” Clark responds simply before drifting back into the crowd to say bye to the important people.

He keeps his word and only takes a few minutes. If he had taken any longer, you aren’t confident you would have noticed. You feel like you have whiplash from the way Sam has latched himself onto your body. Earlier he spoke like he couldn’t stand you, but now he clings to you like he’d be willing to bend you over one of the nearby folding tables and bring some real excitement to this party.

You try brushing him off, redirecting his hands to places that wouldn’t earn you side eyes from your boyfriend’s colleagues. He’s not interested though. Every few seconds it feels like he’s nuzzling into your neck or smoothing his hands over your sides.

“Sam, quit it,” you whisper.

“Why? I don’t need Clark’s hearing to know how fast your heart is going. I know you like it,” he purrs.

The best you can hope for is guiding him to the exit and letting Clark meet you there. When the man in question finally does make his way in your direction, you can see a bit of frustration on his face. Annoyance gleams from his eyes as they sweep over how Sam holds you like a territorial dog with a chew toy.

You want to apologize. You hate when Clark isn’t happy with you, and you really don’t want to end the day having fought with both of them. But before you could get any words of remorse out, Sam’s already leading you through the front door. He keeps a tight grip on your wrist, now allowing you even an inch to pull away.

Clark follows along. His hand lands on the small of your back. The faint touch grounds you a little, but before it can have any real effect, Sam’s yanking you closer, nearly causing you to stumble over the steps that lead you three into the parking lot.

The confusion that permeates your mind has now spread to Clark’s face and replaces his prior irritation.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, trailing behind in broad strides.

“What do you mean?” Sam laughs. He turns around, holding you close again once in range of the car. “You got the keys?”

Even though he does in fact have them, Clark makes no move to fetch the small metal keys from his pocket.

“No, seriously. What’s going on with you? One minute you’re ready to bite her head off for worrying about you, and now you wanna jump her bones in the middle of a parking garage?” he says, not letting up.

“I can’t win with you two. She doesn’t like it when I’m being serious, you don’t like it when I’m not. What’s a guy supposed to do, huh?” he says.

“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Clark challenges, “You have been acting weird lately. I let you deny it because I know what it’s like having to keep something to yourself. But pretending like it isn’t happening does nothing, especially when it’s affecting us.”

You stand there with Sam’s arm over your shoulders, looking back and forth between them. It’s not even an argument yet, but with a few wrong words, it would have no issue transforming into one.

“Please. You didn’t care how it affected me and her when you kept your secrets for years. So spare me a lecture,” Sam dismisses, “I don’t have some great secret. People just change over time.”

“Not so rapidly!” Clark fires back, “You went away for one weekend, and a different person came back.”

“I’m still me,” he says, “If you have such a problem with the person you think I’m becoming then maybe I’m not the only one we should be evaluating. Maybe something’s changing between all of us.”

You look at Clark with pure worry now. He hasn’t outright said it, but these words border on the worst potential outcome. Reaching for his hand that dangles off your shoulder, you give it a squeeze and gaze up at him.

His attention shifts to you. He smiles at the nervousness written all over your features.

“Don’t look so scared, baby. We’re not gonna break up. Unless that’s what you two think would be best,” he says. It’s almost a threat. He puts the power in your hands, but it’s not by choice. He’s not offering it to you. He’s forcing it between your palms and pushing your fingers to close around it.

“No,” you respond instantly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Clark backs down, his voice dropping a bit.

“Then what did you mean?” Sam asks.

“I just want to know why. Why are you acting like this now? You used to be the reserved one. The one who was always careful about everything. You kept me and her on track. Now, you’re in there acting like a high schooler and making me look like an idiot, being all over her like that.”

“All over her?” he repeats with a chuckle. His arm slithers off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed to the chilled night air. He takes a few steps towards your other boyfriend. “You jealous, Clark? Because as soon as we got home, you know I’d be all over you too.”

He scoffs and looks away. Truly, you doubt jealousy had been the root of Clark’s discomfort. You would’ve been irritated too if they started getting handsy in front of people you wanted to make a good impression on. But it was hard to not get flustered when confronted so directly. When Sam stalked forward like that.

The brunette slides to Clark’s side and maneuvers himself behind him. His hands flatten against his muscular biceps, rubbing the skin softly through his suit jacket. You watch as his lips brush the shell of Clark’s ear in the same way they had to yours.

“C’mon. You know I don’t play favorites,” he coos.

Your darker-haired lover has his eyes fixated on the car beside you three. You knew the feelings coursing through him right now. The same ones that swirled within you fifteen minutes ago.

Sam’s long fingers move South on Clark’s arms. The tips coast over his elbows and along his forearms before getting to his wrists. You know the exact sensation. Like little lines of fire being drawn across your limbs. Similar to you, Clark goes to resist. He just has the actual strength to carry it out.

He pushes Sam’s hands off and looks over his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk about it. You can’t keep avoiding it and expecting us to just go along with this forever,” he says.

Sam smirks at the assertion. He lets Clark move him away. You notice one of his hands slip into his pocket, but before the act can even register, it’s back out and reaching for your other boyfriend’s wrist again.

“We will talk about it. But not tonight,” he says.

The beginning of a disagreement begins to leave Clark’s lips. But the hand that had reached for his cuts his statement short when it flexes and spreads a thin band over his wrist. Clark looks down at it while you observe with confusion. But then you see a sparkle of red.

Your pupils dart back to Clark’s face. You watch as his eyes flicker with that same ruby color. His shoulders rise, and his chest puffs out with innate pride. He doesn’t have that sweet, lopsided grin; now his lips look sinister and menacing as they curl. You don’t even have to ask what it is. You recognize that look. You know the effects of red kryptonite.

“You’re such an asshole!” you explode at Sam. You step towards him, practically shoving Clark behind you. “Why would you do that?! You know he hates that stuff!”

Your arm swings forward, smacking at his chest. He just laughs and dodges your weak blows. “Calm down. He’ll be fine. I just wanted to help him unwind for the night,” he says.

You go for another strike, aiming for his bicep this time instead. Before your limb can connect, two strong arms have looped around your waist and tugged you back against a firm body.

“He’s right,” Clark chimes in. His chin hooks over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck, planting kisses there that make you squirm. “I was letting you get me all wound up. Just needed to take the edge off.”

Without responding, your hands fly to his wrist, desperate to get the bracelet off for him. You’d only seen Clark under the influence of this stuff once before. You really weren’t eager to relive the experience.

But he’s quicker than you. He slides his arm away and spins you around to face him in the process. No longer does your boyfriend have his usual look that likens him to a carefree puppy. Now you stare into the eyes of a wolf.

“Clark-” you start and grab for his wrist again.

He laughs and lifts his arm in the air, dangling his hand a foot over his own head. Much too high for you to reach. Still, you jump and try to pull it down by his elbow.

“That’s not my name you know,” he teases.

You stop jumping and glare at him. “I’m not calling you Kal,” you say flatly, “Give me that. You’re not yourself when that stuff is on you.”

“I’m more myself like this than I am any other time,” he disagrees.

Sam comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips. “Come on. Don’t spoil the fun before it’s really started, babe,” he taunts.

“Get off,” you shoo and shoot him a harsh look as well.

None of your efforts have the intended effect though. Nothing you do intimidates either of your boyfriends whose frames dwarf your own against the side of the car.

“So angry,” Sam mocks. He ducks in and kisses your cheek while Clark grabs your chin and makes you look at him again.

“We just gotta find something that calms you down. You need to let loose sometimes. You’re always so worked up and high strung,” Clark says. He strokes your jaw as Sam brings his mouth down to your throat. He starts laying kisses there, the affection more intense than it had been inside the hotel.

His soft lips glide across your sensitive skin. He licks your pulse, scrapes his teeth over the thumping artery. Your breath hitches. They both can hear it. You know that from how Clark’s smile grows that much more smug.

“You know it feels good,” he coos. He leans in, teasing you with the idea of a kiss. His mouth hovers not even an inch from your own. The warmth of his breath puffs against your skin. With the slightest move the two of you would be touching.

“I can feel how bad you want it,” he murmurs, “So why not give in?”

“It’s not like you could get away anyways,” Sam whispers.

And you know it’s true. You can’t do anything they don’t want, especially not something Clark doesn’t want. They’re bigger and stronger. With Clark’s heightened senses, there’s no hope of hiding either. You know the smart decision here is to give in. To give in and then wait for an opportunity to get that bracelet off him.

However, you can’t even say this is a choice based solely in logic or survival instinct. You want Clark’s lips on yours. You crave more touches from them both. While your rational mind hates these versions of the two of them, your body doesn’t care. Your skin breaks out into chills while your heart rate speeds up all the same.

“You’re gonna regret all of this later,” you whisper to Clark, letting your eyes fall to his plush lips.

“Maybe. But I’m not worried about that. I’m living right now,” he responds.

He closes the gap between the two of you. A soft moan creeps up your throat, escaping against his mouth. You feel him smirk. The sound encourages him to deepen the kiss.

Sam presses closer behind you. He pulls your ass flush against his pelvis and kisses your neck some more. It’s like a flurry all around you. If any of Clark’s coworkers were leaving the party now, this sight would only add to the embarrassment Sam and you caused earlier.

None of you are thinking about that though. You’re completely wrapped up with each other. Your hands have found their way into the dark locks on either side of you. The left one grips Clark’s while your right extends back and tugs on Sam. Heavy breaths blow against your face from multiple angles. Large palms grope at the different curves of your body.

Clark reaches down into his pocket. His fingers fish around for a few moments before pulling out the small set of keys Sam asked about earlier. He pulls off your lips and tugs you to his chest away from Sam.

“You drive,” he says simply, sliding the metallic object into the other man’s hand.

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Seems like you’re more eager than me now.”

He doesn’t resist or argue though. Instead, he taps the unlock button and slides around the back of the car to head to the driver’s side. At the same time, Clark opens the door to the backseat and ushers you in with a pat to your ass.

“You had a taste of her in there. Now it’s my turn,” he grins.

The drive home was a quick one.

It felt like a right turn, a left turn, and then the car slowing as Sam parked it in the driveway. Clark had made good on his words. He took his turn with you. The entire time his hand was up your skirt, his fingers beneath the thin cotton of your panties, drawing little whiny moans from you.

When the vehicle finally came to a full stop, Sam cleared his throat to alert you and Clark. They spoke back and forth a bit, but their specific words eluded you. Before your mind could come down from the high Clark was working you into, they were hauling you inside.

Clothes came off along the way to the bedroom. Clark’s jacket pooled on the floor in the entryway. Your red dress decorated the bannister. Sam’s belt hung around the bedroom door knob.

Now they have you spread before them on the bed. Your panties have abandoned you like the rest of your outfit. You lie bare for their eyes. At the foot of the mattress, they finish undressing themselves. Sam’s in the lead, his fist already stroking his cock while he stares down at you. Beside him, Clark finishes shimmying off his trousers.

“Think it’s my turn again,” Sam says before getting on the bed with you. He takes hold of one of your ankles, pulling the limb aside to spread your legs.

“We can share now. I’m not feeling too patient,” Clark adds. He follows right along with the other man’s movements.

Grabbing your other leg, he pushes it farther away from the other as he crawls towards you. They both descend upon you in sync. With their broad frames, it’s a tight fit, but they manage to both position themselves at the junction of your thighs.

Clark looks to Sam with a big smile across his face. “More fun when we do it together anyways.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement. He stares into those round, blue eyes for a moment more before rotating them to focus on your glistening center. You’re thoroughly slick from Clark’s fingers in the car and all the attention they lavished on you in the parking garage. Two of his digits spread you open. They both gaze at your drippy entrance, your poor swollen clit.

“You don’t even need a warm up tonight, sweetheart. You’re soaked from a few touches,” Sam mocks.

“It was more than a few,” you whimper in defense of yourself.

“Either way… be grateful we’re so nice, willing to give you all this extra attention,” he continues.

“Yeah, especially when you were being so bratty earlier. Talking back, carrying on,” Clark adds.

You whine softly and squirm your hips in an attempt to speed along the teasing. Even with your pouty denial, you know how bad you want them. These words only add to that needy sensation in your belly.

“So desperate,” Sam croons in a low voice.

Luckily for you, Clark doesn’t say anything back. He must have been honest about feeling impatient because instead he just leans in and connects his mouth with your cunt. A sigh bursts from your lips and you tilt your head back against the pillows.

He boosts your thigh over his shoulder and holds it like some sort of handle. His lips kiss your clit a few times, mashing the little bud with their delicate, smooth surface. He then sticks his tongue out and drags it through your arousal. The tip of it sweeps up over your velvety folds and swirls around your button.

Your back arches off the bed. Sam grabs your thigh closest to him and takes it on his shoulder as Clark had done. He turns his head, trailing some kisses over your inner thigh. They start innocent enough, chaste pecks at the most. But as they get closer to your center where Clark is, they grow sloppier. You feel his tongue gliding around in figure eights before his lips engulf the saliva-traced flesh.

When he finally reaches your pussy, you whine loudly. Your eyes flutter, and your heels dig into their backs. They keep you pinned in place, not allowing you to squirm too much or to buck your hips in excitement.

“Good girl,” Clark breathes in a husky tone before sucking on your pulsing clit.

A sharp squeal comes from you. Your toes and fingers curl at the sensation. In the meantime below, Sam prods at your leaky hole with his tongue. At first, he uses broad strokes. He flattens the muscle against your desire-soaked entrance, lapping without shame or hesitance. You moan appreciatively, nice and shameless just how you know they like.

More juices seep out of you as they work you up. That combined with their spit has you thoroughly soaked between your legs. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest. You can see the shimmer of your essence on Clark’s jaw. His eyes are shut, his features relaxed as he showers your tender nub with attention. Sam’s head nods as he licks. It bobs lazily, his nose occasionally bumping Clark’s jaw. He also sports a peaceful expression. It’s the first one on him you’ve seen on him in weeks. He isn’t annoyed or tense or bitter. He’s just lost in the bliss of how good you taste.

Soon, fingers start to get involved. Sam brings his long, slender digits up to slither their way inside of you. He moves his lips North to get more room for them. Clark moves ever so slightly to accommodate him but not by too much. He’s close enough that his nose can still brush against his skin. Close enough that he still feels the occasional swipe of his tongue against his own.

You feel release boiling in the pit of your stomach. Sparkling bursts of ecstasy fizzle from there through all your limbs.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Sam rasps. He pumps his fingers in and out faster, curling them against your clenching walls.

“Mhm,” you force out. Your eyes screw shut while you nod, your head wagging rapidly.

“Go ahead, honey. Cum for us. Show us how good you feel,” Clark hums. He flicks his tongue at your clit just as quickly as your head moves above.

In a matter of seconds, you shriek. Your thighs quiver against the sides of their heads. You roll your hips into the pleasure while clutching at the sheets. Sam’s fingers dig harder into the malleable flesh of your leg. Clark latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves and works you through the high.

At the point where you would normally start to come down, they still haven’t let up. Sam’s fingers don’t recede any. They stay snug in your cunt while Clark continues to make out with your center. You whine. Your hips now buck with the purpose of getting them off. The motion doesn’t achieve that though. They stay right where they are.

“Clark-” you squeal for the main offender. Your eyes roll back and ragged pants of air puff from your lungs. You grab at the two mops of hair between your legs. “Sam...” you whimper with desperation.

Your pleas go unanswered at first. Clark chuckles while Sam grins against your leg. The latter continues to thrust his hand between your thighs.

“What’s the matter?” Sam croons, his brown eyes gazing up at you.

Words tangle up into a needy whine. You bite your lip to suppress the noise before attempting to reply with the sentiment you know they anticipate.

“It’s too much. Too sensitive,” you mewl.

As expected, they only look at you with patronizing smiles.

“Too much?” Clark repeats mockingly, “It’s not too much. You can take it. Can’t she, Sam?”

“She can take it,” the man to his left affirms before redirecting his words at you, “You know you can, baby. You know you like it. You just can’t help yourself. You always need something to whine about.”

“I do not! Ah-” you say, cut off by your own moan.

It’s the feeling of one of Clark’s thick fingers joining the couple of Sam’s that are already inside you. Your toes curl at the minor stretch you feel. It’s nothing compared to the times you’ve taken both of them at once, but still, it brings slight discomfort.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Clark praises as you lose yourself to the moans.

They both duck back in and work with their mouths again. The tips of their tongues brush against one another as they lap at you. Clark moves in impossibly closer, angling his mouth slightly to the left. It leaves him more open to Sam. It gives him easier access to the other man as well.

Sam knows it’s on purpose. This isn’t coincidental positioning. Clark can be just as needy as you. He just has an aversion to acting so openly pathetic about it, especially with red kryptonite on him.

His head drifts a little more inward, bringing their mouths even closer together. Sam doesn’t hesitate before taking the leap. He tilts himself towards Clark. His tongue slides out against your cunt, but this time it makes full contact with the other man who moans at the warm, wet caress and reciprocates in full.

Your head pops up at the needy sound leaving his throat. You watch with lust-lidded eyes as their tongues tangle with each other against your folds. Their mouths are still touching your skin. The focus has just become split, flowing to all three points of your triad.

It helps to ease the sting of overstimulation that had been nipping at you. You’re able to actually make the descent back to a normal state of arousal. Reaching towards them, you lazily stroke Sam’s hair. You brush his bangs back from his warm forehead before swapping over to Clark and combing your fingers through his tresses that have become damp with sparse drops of sweat.

As they feel your touch, they become more focused on each other. It’s as if more subconscious parts of their minds understand you’ve been attended to. You’ve been sated. You’re not going to get up and leave, so it’s ok to play with each other a bit.

Sam’s the one to deepen the exchange. He draws his fingers that had gone still from the warmth of your cunt. They land on Clark’s shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Your other boyfriend doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves in for more, his nose bumping against Sam’s. Their breaths grow louder. You can hear every desperate inhale.

A low hum reverberates from Sam’s throat as Clark pushes him back on the bed. He kisses with the same overeager tenacity of a pup desperate for attention from its master.

Sam crumples on his shoulder, letting his back rest against the blankets beneath the three of you. You rise on your elbows and sit up, readjusting your legs. Your eyes trail over their nude bodies. They catch on the way Clark ruts himself against the crevice between Sam’s hip and the mattress. Sam’s flushed length stands stiff between their bodies, oozing the first beads of pre despite being untouched for the most part.

You’re only left neglected for a few seconds more. Sam manages to guide Clark’s lips down onto his neck. He then tilts his head back and reaches for your wrist.

“Don’t think we forgot about you,” he says with a small tug.

You follow along with the direction and scoot closer. Clark’s still got his mouth attached to Sam’s neck, kissing and licking at the curve of his throat. The recipient of the touches sighs at the dull sense of bliss it brings. Clark grinds himself harder against the bed, letting out a strangled moan before lifting his head.

His eyes are drooping with desire too now. The blown out pupils flit from Sam to you.

“We couldn’t forget about you, baby,” he adds, his mind seemingly just catching up with the words your other lover said.

Grabbing you by your waist, he drags you over Sam’s body and gets you flat on the mattress under him. You can feel the heat of his length against your thigh. Sam sits up beside you and strokes your cheek with two of his long fingers. He studies you for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity. Even in the heat of the moment though, you know he’s different. His normal reverence is absent. There’s hardly any affection in his gaze. It feels empty in a sense. As if his actions are guided by pure carnal need.

“I’ll let you have her pussy, Clark. Think her and I need to make up with something closer,” he says as his thumb pulls your mouth open by pressing on your bottom lip.

The plan receives no argument from Clark. It probably would have had he been the one resigned to your mouth, but he had no protests about getting to fuck you.

“Sounds good to me,” he grins and moves to kneel between your thighs. He tugs you closer by your hips, getting you in the position he wants. “You ready, princess? This won’t be too much for you?”

It’s not said with genuine concern. You’re sure the result would be the same regardless of if you nodded or shook your head. His tip is already nudging at your hole, more than ready to be inside.

You feel his cock sink in and split you open in time with Sam pushing his thumb further into your mouth. A moan bubbles up from you before you close your lips around the digit and suck. You shut your eyes too, allowing the physical sensations to overtake you.

Clark works himself in inch-by-inch. To your surprise, he doesn’t jerk himself all the way in, but he doesn’t go slow either. His desire rolls off him in waves. It’s only a matter of seconds before his tip is kissing your cervix and the thin patch of dark hair above his cock is pressed to your pelvis.

Sam pushes down on your tongue with his thumb. You continue sucking. Having it there soothes you in a way. It staves off any remnants of overstimulation, gives you something to focus on besides the thick cock stretching you apart.

But then he removes it. You whine. Moments after it leaves you, Clark draws his hips back and then slams in again. Now he’s set on picking up the pace. You don’t get a break. He doesn’t take a while to figure out a rhythm. He pounds back and forth, already settling into the one he likes.

Sam is rising up next to your head too. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s tapping the head of his dick on the seam of your lips. Your eyes lift to his face, which looks down at you with a condescending smirk.

“Open up, baby,” he purrs.

Obediently, your lips part. He thrusts himself inside with the same force Clark used on your cunt. You screw your eyes shut to try and repress the urge to gag. He chuckles up above, though it sounds distant to your ears. Being full of them on both ends spreads your senses thin. They try to keep up with everything happening, but they can really only catch the most intense pieces. Everything else blurs into a flurry around you. Clark’s needy grunts, Sam’s satisfied hum, the wet squelches coming from your core. All of it mixes together into a hazy bluster.

Sam’s cock drags over your tongue. It’s much heavier than his thumb. Warmer too. You suck on it all the same. You don’t use too much force or bob your head more than necessary. Even if his personality had been different as of late, you know what affects him on a physical level no matter what. You swipe your tongue over that specific vein and press up on the sensitive ridge that makes him buck. He hisses as you’re able to get him going with only a few small maneuvers.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he grunts. His hands land on either side of your head and hold you in place. “It’s much better when you’re using your mouth for this instead of all that worrying.”

As he grips your skull and begins rocking his hips back and forth, Clark rabbits himself harder into you. His fingers dig into you with such force, you’re sure you can feel the bruises forming on your skin. Normally, Clark was more conscious of his strength. He made sure to never pull too hard or hold too tightly. But when that little red stone sits strapped around his wrist, all concern for those kinds of things leaves his mind. All he cares about right now is the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“She’s so fucking tight. Like more than usual. Thinks she likes us better like this,” Clark moans as he continues fucking into you with fast, needy strokes.

“Yeah? That true?” Sam huffs. He thrusts forward and drags your head all the way down on his cock.

In place of an answer, you gag. One set of your fingers claws at the bedding while your other clutches one of his thighs. He holds you in place for a moment. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds with panic while your pussy squeezes extra tight around Clark. You hear him whimper at the sensation. It sounds far away, fading almost.

You blink slowly. Your head jerks a little. It’s not a conscious choice. Just the natural survival instinct that drives you to fight for air. You don’t receive it at first. Sam keeps your throat full for a few seconds more before pulling out and allowing you to suck in a breath.

You cough at the sudden influx of oxygen. A few droplets of spit spew forward and flank his v-line. He pets your head, stroking you in a way that seems almost caring.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, “You didn’t even move that much. Kept nice and still like you’re supposed to.”

“Of course. She knows just how to take us,” Clark agrees.

“I guess that’s true,” Sam says, thumbing at your cheek before sliding his cock between your lips again.

He’s not as forceful this time. You don’t stop breathing as you suck and lick at him. He keeps his thrusts pretty shallow. One of his hands rests on the top of your head, maintaining contact without grabbing you.

Simultaneously, Clark’s cock throbs inside you. It aches with the urge to spill. His balls that slap against your ass feel tight, more than ready to drain into you.

Sam can tell he’s close from how hard he’s panting. He doesn’t say anything, just watches. His eyes linger on Clark’s hips as they lose rhythm. They buck against you, sputtering as the rush of release creeps up on him. Sam can feel it approaching for him too. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. His hand stays firm on the top of your head, using its position for leverage to start thrusting with a little more fervor again.

You whine around his cock. The faint vibrations only serve to coax Sam farther along. Things feel more blurry for you than it does for either of them. While they feel the clear signs of their impending orgasms, yours arrives suddenly. It explodes within you, snapping like a taut rubber band. Your body twitches and spasms. You feel the urge to arch your back and buck your hips, but you’re stationary for the most part between them.

Clark cums after you. He bursts with a sharp groan. His hips slap against your ass, jerking you upward. He maintains the same firm grip he’s had the whole time. You feel the thick, warm ropes flood you in a few spurts. It feels good, relaxing in a way to know the end is near.

Then your attention is swept up by the man occupying your mouth. Another hiss zips through his lips before you feel the sticky heat of his spend hit the back of your throat. You swallow every drop. It’s not like you have much of a choice. He doesn’t pull out or give you any room to do anything else but accept it.

He holds himself there as his length twitches and then softens. When the pleasure has reached its zenith, he finally begins to slip himself out. A thin string of saliva hangs from your lips and the head before he falls from his knees and sits beside you. He watches as Clark slides out too. Unlike the man by your upper half, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he collapses on top of you.

His body heat seeps into you, his weight crushing your smaller frame. He nips at your neck. “See? It’s so much more fun when you’re not so tense, baby,” he breathes.

“Mhm,” you hum and let your eyes shut.

Sam sinks down next to the pair of you in bed. He doesn’t speak for a couple minutes. Wordlessly, he observes the way Clark holds you beneath him.

“You are much cuter when you’re tuckered out like this,” he says, his voice low and quiet.

You tilt your head against his shoulder and keep your eyes shut, a gesture to show that you’re trying to doze off. Your main hope is that they’ll follow suit. Luckily that seems to be the case as they remain quiet. You hear Sam’s breath even out beside you. Clark stays still on top of you, pressing a lazy kiss to your skin every so often, but it’s not long before you can feel those puffs of air become deeper and more steady.

Once you feel semi-confident they’re both asleep, only then do you open your eyes. As carefully as you can, you shift slightly and reach for Clark’s arm. You keep your movements slow so as to not wake either one of them. When you have his muscular limb held up enough, you hook your fingers around that bracelet and pull. With a little force, it pops free. You don’t know if it’s real or imagined, but you swear you feel his muscles relax.

From your spot on the bed, you toss it towards the closet. The farther it is from Clark the better. You suppose you should probably try to hide from Sam, but for some reason, you don’t feel like he’s set on using it again. Getting it off was pretty easy. Maybe he planned on you doing exactly this from the moment he slid that thing onto your other boyfriend.

Either way, you shut your eyes. You won’t let yourself sleep, but you can at least rest for right now. You and Clark could deal with Sam later. With one of them back to normal, you could figure out how to do the same for the other.

#au: sam & clark 🤸‍♀️#sam winchester x reader #clark kent x reader #sam winchester smut #clark kent smut #spn smut #spn x reader #smallville x reader

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