#ran out of steam toward the end sorry

[pricegouge]

Thinking about them cumming in readers underwear and having her wear it around

I feel like Price would love the claiming aspect of it but I think Ghost or Gaz would just be annoyed the underwear is in the way of easy access

I feel like Johnny would enjoy huffing and licking them😌

-🫀

Never enough that they're gross, is it? They just gotta make doll a mess, too.

Cw: dubcon. Squirting. Gaz calls it piss so take that as you will. No ageplay here but the panties are cutesy and reader doesn't like it. Cum play/implied eating. Extremely light spit kink. Degradation. Praise, but not for reader. Cuckolding? Free use. Please lmk if I forgot anything this is way too long and way too nasty.

It's rare that Kyle initiates so you should've known he was up to something when he pulled you in close for a kiss. He's so good at it though that you forgot to be suspicious, just reveled in his soft lips and warm hands until he got your bottoms off, slid a finger under the scalloped edging of your panties. "These are cute," he said with a sly grin and you might've rolled your eyes, if you didn't know what it would earn you.

Cute was one word for them, you supposed. Borderline childish would be another. They're not egregious. Pale blue cotton briefs with white clouds dotting them. The trim is minimal, doesn't even scratch at your skin, thankfully, but it's the only thing about them that could possibly be construed as a concession to maturity. Still, you thank him for the compliment instead of telling him how they make you feel completely sexless. You move to take them off for him but his hand catches your wrist, uses his grip to turn you over onto all fours.

"Let's leave 'em on, luv," he hums and you bite back a sigh. At least in this position you don't really have to see them, you think, but he makes it hard to ignore their presence when he starts rubbing his leaky cock into the fabric of your gusset. "Fuck, that's hot," he groans, but doesn't take his time to enjoy it, slotting his cock under the hem so he can rub himself between your cheeks instead. 

It's the noises he makes that get you wet more than anything, the soft huffs when his sensitive head catches on the edging and the tiny, shaky moans he lets loose every time you feel the warmth of his precum bloom across your skin. He can see it, no doubt - the pale fabric clinging to his cock as it begins to soak. He knows instinctively when you start to leak, long fingers wrapping around your hip to rub your pussy through the thin layer. The cotton feels different when it's coated with your juices - almost softer when he works it against your clit. He teases you about it, about how he doesn't even need to touch your pussy properly to get you soaked. You can't really argue with him so you don't, shame licking up your spine when he slots his cock into you unexpectedly - bottoming out in one slow thrust as he keeps working your clit with that rough scrape of fabric and you can't help it, your release soaking you both as it drips down your legs. 

"Shit," Gaz growls, his cock pushed out of your cunt by how hard you try to squeeze him. He slots himself between your cheeks again, free hand laying flat over your ass to give himself something to thrust between. When he cums, he pulls back enough that you can feel it drip onto the rim of your hole, hot and slick where he works his tip against it. It catches once and you squirm away, prompting Kyle to crack you on the ass. It stings, the wet material of your panties doing nothing to help. You yelp, but remain obediently still for him as he winds himself down until he sighs, borderline affectionate.

You roll over when he climbs off you, eager to clean yourself up after the mess he's made but Kyle grabs your hands yet again and tuts at you. "Told you they're cute. Leave 'em on."

He takes some pity when you wrinkle your nose, kneeling before you to soak up most of the mess from your legs and tummy with the soiled blanket. You thank him prettily, hoping if you appease him he'll leave sooner and you can change out of your panties, but Gaz doesn't even seem to listen, pulling a big sharpie out of his pocket instead of acknowledging you. 

"What're you -?"

The felt tip is surprisingly cool when it meets your skin. Gaz's handwriting is neat, making it easy for you to read as he scrawls the word 'cumdump' across your belly. You gape down at him, and the bastard has the audacity to wink as he etches a singular tally mark into your thigh. 

"Gaz!" you shriek, testing your limits, but he just laughs, throwing your pants at you.

"You keep those on. And you keep this," he wags the marker at you, "in your pocket, yeah? Make sure everyone adds to your little collection." 

You're shaking your head before you can even think it through and Gaz pinches the fat on the back of your thigh aggressively. 

"You will, because I'm going to be checking throughout the day to make sure, and if you're not wearing them, or if they're not getting messier, I'm gonna make you lick them clean," he promises. "Dried, tacky cum, piss stains and all."

"That's not fair," you gripe, already pulling your pants on. "I can't control whether or not the others wanna fuck me."

"Well then I guess you better be sweet on 'em, hm?"

***

The panties are absurdly uncomfortable. With your pants on, the thick spend doesn't dry out as easily as you'd hoped it would and worse, the possibility that anyone could potentially smell your wet cunt makes your face heat - makes you drip like a faucet, honestly, but in the end, it's not the smell that does you in. 

You hadn't considered the jeans Gaz had thrown at you for longer than it took to ascertain you (blessedly) wouldn't be wearing a skirt today. When you'd pulled them on, you'd felt nothing but relief for how well-covered you were, not wanting to wander the warehouse in something they could easily push aside because they often did, and if you weren't allowed to clean yourself up after, it would've been a complete nightmare. But in your short-lived elation, you'd failed to notice how pale the wash of the jeans was, how easily wet marks would show.

Simon notices before you do, stalking silently behind you as you move about the small kitchen making sandwiches. No warning, he grabs you by the seat of your pants, big hand worming its way between your thighs to rub thick fingers along the seam of your crotch. His voice is a low pur when he rumbles in your ear, "Need help with that, pet?"

It should shock you - would've even just a few months ago. You've grown used to them now, no longer surprised when they accost you like this. It's one of the few reasons you're allowed to handle butter knives now - because you don't spin around, brandishing it at him wildly.

"No thanks, almost done here," you tell him, calmly assembling the last sandwich. John's, to be eaten later when he was off the phone. 

Simon just chuckles, a little mean. "Not what I meant."

This time, when he pushes his fingers against your seam, you can feel how wet it is against your own skin. You squawk, your first instinct to apologize for some reason. Simon shushes your stuttering with a kiss, his tongue hot and wet even through the material of his mask. 

Simon doesn't usually like a show. Normally, he'll sequester you in a back room, or seek you out in your own when the others have all gone to bed. He changes his tune when his hands get a little too busy, tug your hem up just enough that he catches a glimpse of the ink that stains your skin. He frowns, backing up enough he can read Gaz's mark properly while you sit there and squirm. 

You don't make it to a back room.

"Fuckin' slag," Simon hisses, shoving your jeans down your hips. His fingers find the band of your briefs, pull as if he intends to tear them.

"Wait!" you plead, fingers wrapping around his wrist as if you have any chance of stopping him. It does give him pause, though, more curious as to what could possibly be so important it made you forget your place. "Gaz said I had to leave those on."

The band snaps against your skin when Simon releases it, but he cocks his head at you, undecided. "And why the fuck do I care what Gaz wants?"

"Please, he said he'd make me lick them clean if I took them off."

Expression still thoughtful, Simon pulls at the band again until he can inspect the gusset, eyes glinting when he looks back up at you. "Not seeing a downside for me."

Shit. "I'll let you add to my tally." 'Let' is a strong word and you both know it, though Simon likely doesn't know Gaz expected you to have it added anyway.

"Not much of a cumdump," Simon points out, thumb brushing the single mark on your thigh. 

You bat your eyes at him, overselling but desperate to appeal to his good side. You really don't want to clean these off. "Help me out then?" 

He fucks your thighs. Stood up in the kitchen and squeezing him as best you can, you end up having to hold onto his burly biceps for dear life as he rocks you against his heavy cock, spilling into your panties without so much as a pinch to your clit. 

***

You're back in your room when Gaz finds you. He pulls your pants off and inspects your underwear much like Simon had, grinning up at you when he says he's just checking. He spits in them before he lets you pull them back into place.

***

"Johnny, don't, Gaz said to keep them on." The worst thing about Soap was how little he listened. The best thing was that you were generally allowed to slap his hands away from you, so long as John or Simon didn't see. Johnny himself never seemed to mind too much, always bouncing back. Overeager.

"But she's so wet, bonnie. Can smell her. Need a taste."

You were, was the worst of it. Leaking like a sieve ever since Simon had left you wanting. It was why you'd retired to your gross little room, too embarrassed to be seen with such an obvious, growing wet spot on your crotch. Suddenly, it's hard to remember why letting Johnny lick you clean is a bad idea. "Well, maybe if you slide them to the side?"

You barely have time to register his movements, he's on you so fast. 

The first pass of his tongue is so slick you almost don't feel it beyond the intense heat. Johnny moans, smacks his lips like a child enjoying a cookie, and then dives back in so enthusiastically you can't help but grip his hair, holding him in place as he immediately starts in on the messiest technique he can manage, pulling your slick from you with a cupped tongue just so he can rub his raw stubble against your sticky skin. He moans when you do, breath humid and hot against your skin. You hold your panties off to the side for him, the wetness there dragging against the crease of your hip. It's all so messy, but you can't help rocking your hips up to meet Johnny's tongue, groaning in frustration when he pulls away and -

"Nobody ever teach you how a cumdump works, boy?"

John. He's holding Soap up by the back of his shirt, as if the massive man was nothing more than a spitting kitten, his eyes heavy on the mess between your legs. 

"Sir -."

"Supposed to add to it, Soap, not clean it up." A heavy palm guides Johnny to the floor, patting him affectionately when he settles on his knees, eyes darting nervously between you and the captain. "All that spit, just watering down Gaz's collection."

"Wasnae -."

"Quiet. You watch now, yeah? Show you how to treat a fucking whore."

You know better than to gripe about his words, so you don't. And you know better than to fight him when he snaps your panties back into place, so you let him. Johnny, however, doesn't know better than to whine when John's fingers find your clit, start rubbing the soaked fabric against your neglected nub much like Gaz had earlier. You bite your tongue, but Johnny doesn't - a sharp huff drawing John's attention away for just a moment.

"Don't wanna hear it, Soap."

"Sir, can ah -?"

"No."

This time Johnny's whine coincides with John's thumb dropping lower, dipping the fabric of your panties into your pussy experimentally. Your breath stutters, loud enough that John's eyes snap to your face. Cold, hard. Unsympathetic. He speaks to Johnny but he never looks away from you.

"Behave and I'll let you lick them clean after."

You perk up, the possibility of your punishment being taken from you by the captain - who Gaz could not reproach - making you just as eager to please as Soap himself was. Though you were a little better about hiding it than the man who thanked John repeatedly from his place on the floor.

"Thank ye, cap. Thank ye -."

"That's enough."

"Aye, sir."

Finally, John's focus returns to his actions, watching almost reverently as you soak the material even more. Quietly, as if he doesn't want Soap to hear, he rumbles at you about getting them good and wet and you nod, eager to let Johnny take your punishment.

And then he slaps your mound lightly, breaking the nearly intimate spell between you. "But we have to show the boy how to treat a slut like you, don't we? Which means you're gonna cum on my cock, or not at all."

You groan in frustration, laying back limply as John clutches the gusset of your panties and pulls them aside (hypocrite). He doesn't bother working you open, knows exactly what state you've been left in by the slick that squelches between his fingers where he fists your briefs. Still, John's big, and the stretch leaves you breathless enough you feel punched out, hollow when he gives you no time to adjust before drawing out again, slamming back into you even more brutally.

True to his word, John does not work to bring you pleasure. The way he fucks you is efficient at best, downright punishing at worst. Regardless, worked up as you are, you find your release when his knuckles graze your clit accidentally, and John laughs at you cruelly as you fall apart beneath him. 

"Knew you were a fucking slag," he grunts, pulling out and fisting his cock until he paints your pussy, rocking against it a few times just to make you both twitch in overstimulation. 

It takes you both a moment to realize the slick sounds don't stop when he does, and a quick glance at Johnny tells you why when you find him fucking his own fist, face twisted in pleasure as he eyes your soaked pussy.

"You waste that on the floor and I'll make you lick that up too," John growls, and suddenly you're being manhandled to the ground, spread open in front of Soap while John holds your legs open.

The chords of Soap's neck jump when he cums, pumping himself directly onto the front of your panties. 

"Good boy, Soap. Just like that," John rumbles. Your gut twists, unexpectedly jealous. "See how much better it is when you don't worry about her pleasure?"

"Aye, sir," Johnny pants, looking dazed enough to agree with anything. 

"That's right, cause she's just our little cumdump, isn't she?" He makes you jump when he slaps you pussy for emphasis before hooking his fingers under the band of your panties, sliding them down.

"Ready for your reward?"

[teamatsumu]

kept me waiting. (suna rintarou x reader)

summary: for six years, you have loved no other alpha except suna.

word count: 3397

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, alpha!suna, omega!fem!reader, some angst, smut, typical omegaverse jargon (mating, knotting, scent, slick), oral (fem receiving)

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead @priv-rose

There’s only so long you could have waited.

At 16 years old, you were a budding omega. You had presented recently and were trying to adjust to the changes that came with your secondary gender. You were curious about yourself, and about others as well. In your uncertain new beginning, you met Suna Rintaro.

He had presented as an Alpha about a year ago, and he was more comfortable in his skin than you were. He was brooding and slightly lazy, but endlessly perceptive. Clever. And he smelled to you like a garden you wanted to lay in, surrounded by grass and flowers. He brought you comfort. And your novice omega heart fell in love with him.

The kettle whistled, indicating that your water was ready for a cozy cup of tea. You pour it into a cup, grab your muffin and your tea before settling on the couch. It was evening time and the TV was on, loud cheering emitting from its speakers. You placed your blanket over your lap and then rested your plate on it, finally turning your attention to the screen and the live game that was about to start. You had never once missed a game of Suna’s, after all.

Almost 7 years since you had first met the boy, and to this day, you heart yearned for him. He was your best friend, your most personal confidant. The love of your life, though that fact was not known by him. Your Omega had attached herself to him explicitly, vowed to love him forever, and despite him not returning your feelings, you hung on to the tiniest, withering hope that somehow, things between you two would work out.

The game was an exhilarating one, and in the end, EJP Raijins came out of it victorious. You watched the team celebrate on screen, grinning wide and cheering them on silently. When the camera panned to Suna, your heart squeezed. You shot him a quick congratulations text, asking him how he wanted to celebrate. Suna had informed you beforehand that he would be crashing at yours after the game, since you lived so close to the venue. You had enthusiastically agreed, of course. Any excuse to spend more time with him.

Half an hour later, your phone pinged with a reply from him.

‘Will be back late, sorry.. dont wait up’

You pursed your lips in disappointment before sighing loudly and resigning to an early night. It was fine, you were tired from work anyway, so getting extra sleep will be good. But spending some time with Suna….

He had been so busy lately, with rigorous practices leading up to the beginning of this season. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and you didn’t enjoy that fact, nor did your omega. You missed him terribly. You swallowed down your sadness and trudged into bed. It was a familiar feeling when it came to Suna. The yearning and the realization that he wasn’t yours.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was high in the sky and filtering through your closed curtains. You groaned and cursed softly, not expecting to sleep in so late. Your mood only lightened when you walked into the kitchen and found Suna sitting on the island, scrolling through his phone over a steaming cup of tea. His hair was messy and unkempt, indicating that he just woke up, but the sight of him had your face lifting with a smile.

“Rin!” You greeted, clearing your throat when you heard how hoarse your voice was. “Congratulations on the game!”

“Hey,” His smile made your heart squeeze. “Sorry, did I wake you last night?”

You blinked in confusion. “No?”

“Oh.” He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “Good, good.”

You eyed him for a moment, trying to gauge what he meant. You walked toward the kettle that was still going, planning on pouring some of it for yourself too. As you moved past the man, a scent hit your nose and your body stiffened.

Omega.

There was no doubt in your head. It was an omega scent, wafting off Suna in waves and mixing intimately with his own wonderful scent. You froze behind him, nose twitching when you took another deep breath and identified the scent even more distinctly. You didn’t recognize it, but you knew it was omega. And the way it was coming off Suna, focused so closely on his scent glands meant only one thing.

“Why’d you get here so late, Rin?” There was a little tremble in your voice.

Suna didn’t seem to notice, scrolling idly through his phone, distracted. He hummed a bit in question before replying.

“Drinking with the guys.” He drawled.

And then? You didn’t ask. It wasn’t your place. You loved foolishly believing that Suna was your Alpha but he wasn’t. And you couldn’t exactly tell him to not see any omega when you didn’t have any claim on him either. Silently, you left the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t call after you, walking into your room and closing the door. You leaned your forehead against the warm wood and closed your eyes.

Stupid. Stupid. What right did you have to feel the way you did? Suna wasn’t yours. He could be with anyone he pleased. He could sleep with other omegas. Scent them. Court them. Knot them. Your throat tightened.

So then why did you feel like a wounded animal? Why was your omega whining like she had lost her mate and not some random alpha she had unfairly been obsessed with for so long? In moments like this, you hated your secondary gender. You hated your omega. You hated that you were so in love with Suna that this felt like cheating to you.

However, your hurt was exclusively your own, and you couldn’t project it onto anyone else. Suna was here now, and even though the sight of him made you weep, you still found joy in being around him. You would spend the day with him, and get the closure you needed. Then you would lick your wounds and move on. You had waited long enough.

So that’s what you did. And here you were now, a week later, sitting across from an Alpha you had met just today, listening to him talk about his job and his hobbies while you smiled and nodded. There was an almost bitter undertone to your feelings. Over the days, your sadness had transformed into anger. It was unjustified and not really something Suna deserved, but you still directed it at him. Because he had ruined you for anyone else.

The Alpha before you was a perfect gentleman. He was a friend of your friend’s, and everything she had told you about him was true. He was kind, well spoken, good looking. He knew how to carry a conversation, since he was doing most of the talking while you rolled around in your own head.

But he wasn’t witty. He wasn’t quick and sly. He didn’t have a thin, cutting smirk and narrow green eyes that pierced through you. He didn’t smell like freshly cut grass and cool, open air.

He wasn’t Suna.

After the date, he walked you to the train station, where you claimed you would get on the train home. He gave you a respectful hug and smiled kindly when you said you would call (you wouldn’t call). Then, when he mixed in with the crowd and disappeared, you turned around and walked straight out, beginning to trudge on foot to your home.

Your thoughts were all over the place, your eyes were lined with unshed tears, your breath felt like it was trapped in your lungs. You didn’t comprehend the stupidity behind walking all the way home, and how it would take hours. Your friend texted you, asking about the date. You didn’t reply. Instead, you tapped on that one cursed name that you couldn’t wipe from your mind and sent only two words.

Fuck you.

It took you two and a half hours to walk home. It could have been quicker if you weren’t in heels. After about half an hour of walking in them, your feet began to hurt. You used the pain to distract yourself from the jumble of thoughts in your head, and by the time you got home, you didn’t even want to look down at them. You couldn’t imagine how bad they looked, if the tingling and shooting pains were any indication. It now traveled up your legs and to your lower back, aching all over. At some point, the air nipped cold at your cheeks, and you finally noticed that it was because of the tears that now ran down them.

When you unlocked the door and stepped inside the warmth of your apartment was the first time you seemed to be aware of your surroundings. You froze just inside the door when a large figure blocked the light, making you look up at a scowling Suna.

“Where the hell were you? I was calling like crazy!” His voice was louder than his usual register, and more emotional. You blinked a bit and sniffled. Your skin felt stiff because of the dried tears. Your feet still screamed.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was low.

“I’m-” Suna’s eyes traveled down, and they widened slightly at the sight of your feet.

“What did you- did you walk?”

You sighed and lumbered past him, ignoring the pleading protests of your feet to get the weight off them. You finally sat down on the couch, feeling no better. The pain was still there. You kept your focus acutely on it, trying not to look at the one man who was causing your misery. But he seemed adamant on making himself known, kneeling before you to help take off your shoes. You jerked your legs away. Suna looked up at you, shocked.

“Don’t touch me.” Your voice was cutting.

Something flashed in his eyes. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.”

Suna reached for your shoe strap again. “Don’t be stubborn, omega.”

You felt your blood boil and you finally raised your voice. “Don’t call me that!”

He eyed you for a moment. “What? Omega? Aren’t you one?”

“Suna-”

He glared at you. Glared. A withering look that almost made you shrink. But your emotions were too great. You grit your teeth and didn’t say anything. Didn’t address the fact that you had called him by his last name for the first time in six years.

Suna peeled your shoes off your feet as gently as he could. But it hurt regardless, and you hissed when they finally came off. He ran soothing hands over the tender, angry skin. You tried not to think about his touch, tried not to sink into the feeling. But your efforts only made tears gather in your lash line once more. You eyed his raven hair, his head bent low to look at your feet. He sat cross legged before you, laying light touches on the swollen parts of your feet.

“Why are you here?” You repeated.

“Well, when my best friend texted me a colorful ‘fuck you’ out of nowhere, then proceeded to ignore all my calls, I was understandably worried.”

You sighed and looked away just before he could meet your eyes. He continued. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

You didn’t reply, pointedly looking away. You cursed at the moment of weakness that caused your lapse of judgment and made you text him. Him showing up was your own mistake.

He exhaled loudly, looking down at your feet that he was still gently massaging. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

Your head snapped to him in shock, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Suna didn’t look up, but his lips twitched into a little smile.

“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird, right? For the last few days? You were pissed and sad that your Alpha slept with another omega.”

Your mind reeled, and you sat frozen as you tried but failed to absorb Suna’s words. Your alpha?

When he looked up, his lips were tilted in a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you, baby.”

Again, you lurched. You tried to pull your feet from his grasp, to stand up and get away from him, put any distance between you two. Maybe his scent was making you heady. Maybe you were hallucinating. He gripped at your leg, making sure you stayed put.

“You’re- I don’t know what you’re saying.” You rasped.

Suna chuckled before sighing a bit defeatedly. “I wanted to confess in a more romantic way than this but you started being all distant and shit. I can’t see you like this.”

You couldn’t believe it. You had so many questions and not enough answers for the predicament you were in. And Suna’s pretty forest eyes didn’t help keep your head straight either.

“You- what do you mean confess?”

Suna’s hand ran up your bare calf lightly, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

“What do you think it means?” He countered in classic Suna fashion. Answering your question with a question. “Telling you that I like you. Taking you out. Courting you. Mating you. The whole she-bang.”

For the hundredth time today, tears filled your eyes. “Rin….”

He watched you, eyes forlorn as you silently weeped. His hand still rubbed comfortingly over your legs. Up and down, slow motions. His touch grounded you.

“You made me wait-” You hiccuped. “-for so long.”

Suna continued eyeing you. He leaned forward to rest his head on your knee. “I thought you knew how much I liked you. I spend all my time with you. I scent your clothes, dammit. I thought you weren’t saying anything on purpose. That you wanted to come to me on your own terms.”

You smacked his shoulder hard. He didn’t even budge. “You are such an asshole.”

Suna chuckled a bit before turning his head and laying a kiss on the side of your knee. The skin tingled. He pulled away only a hair, and his breath hit your skin. A chill ran up your leg. Suna turned his head only slightly, his eyes meeting yours. Your heart skipped. Heat ran down your body, settling at the base of your stomach.

His lips skimmed over the bare skin of your knee. His left hand, placed on your right shin, traveled slowly up your leg until it dipped below the hem of your dress. Your breath caught in your throat. Your core grew damp. Suna’s gaze heated up, and his lip twitched with a tiny smirk.

“I can smell you.”

You bit your lip when his hand traveled up, up, until his skin was meeting delicate lace.

“So wet, omega.” He nipped at your leg. “And I haven’t even done anything. So good for your Alpha. So ready.”

His unoccupied hand hooked under your knee and tugged until your hips reached the edge of your couch, until you were laying back on it. Your eyes didn’t leave him. His words ran straight between your legs, making you clench hard. You bit your lip and looked at Suna with teary eyes.

“Rin.”

You had nothing else to say. Suna let out a breathy laugh and increased the pressure of his thumb on your slit. You gasped.

“Will you be good f’me?” His voice was octaves deeper. “Let me eat out your sweet little pussy?”

His crude language made you moan. Suna finally moved, lips going higher over your thigh until he bypassed your body completely and leaned up to connect his lips with yours. You grasped the sides of his face, kissing him back hard and deep. You poured every emotion into that one kiss, letting Suna lap over your lips hungrily. His scent enveloped you like a comforter, one hand pushing up the skirt of your dress while the other’s movements grew more urgent on your clothed pussy. You were slicking up rapidly. You could feel it run from your hole and down your ass until it landed on the couch. You couldn’t give less of a shit if you were dirtying the furniture. Your brain was rapidly turning into mush as your omega preened under Suna’s attention, his tongue invading your mouth like it was his own and he was only reclaiming it.

“Pretty baby.” He rasped into your mouth. “Good little omega. Get wetter for me. Need to drink all your juice.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, and you whined right against his lips. When he pulled away, you tried to chase after him, already addicted to the high that his lips brought. Suna hummed in amusement and tugged on your panties, pulling them off your ankles. He pressed the fabric directly to his nose and breathed deep. You watched him with half lidded eyes as you bit your lip to hell.

“You smell so fucking divine.” Suna groaned. “Always thought so. Loved cuddling up to you. Being close to you. My lovely omega.”

You moaned again, feeling how you gushed at his words. You didn’t realize you were into praise, but when it came from Suna, it lit a fire inside you. You clenched hard around nothing, now acutely aware of your rapidly building need.

“Rin,” you gasped. “Please. Please.”

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He shamelessly pried your legs open. You let him. “I’ll take such good care of my omega.”

His first lick was a thick stripe up your open slit, filthy and hungry, before he licked harder and faster over your clit. You gasped at the contact, the urgent relief of finally having stimulation you were craving so much. Your fingers automatically buried themselves in his soft hair, tugging tight at the roots. Suna hummed his approval and suctioned his lips on your clit, lapping and slurping like he was a man starved.

He was glorious at it, eating pussy like it was his last meal, hands holding your thighs apart firmly so his movements were unhindered. Stars burst in your vision and your hips jerked, not sure if you wanted to lean into him or tug away from how intense it was. Your torso undulated and arched, tears ran down the sides of your face and you moaned unencumbered. Suna seemed to enjoy it, because he pulled off with a wet smooch and replaced his lips with his thumb, not leaving you dry for one second.

“So fucking delicious.” His voice had gone scratchy and wrecked. “Good fucking girl. Moan for me, baby. God, I could do this forever.”

You felt something prod at your entrance before two fingers rapidly sank into you to the knuckle, curling hard and rubbing at your walls. You cried out again, not even embarrassed by how wet the noises became, how potent your scent was becoming, you badly you needed to cum on his fingers or you didn’t know what you would do-

His lips sealed over your clit and you were gone.

Suna didn’t even slow his movements as you reached your high. He helped prolong it, sucking harder and pushing his fingers in and out of you, scissoring and curling until your walls felt abused and used beyond belief. You wailed and weeped as you dug your fingers into the couch cushion under you. You had slid so far down the couch that it nearly bent you in half. You tried to close your legs and Suna finally pulled out, kissing over your mound a few times before he leaned up and attached his lips to the skin of your neck, licking and biting lightly over your scent gland, trying to embed his own scent into you. The feeling of him so close to that spot had your mind reeling. You hugged him close.

“Bite me.”

Suna kissed you again. “Not like this.”

“But I love you.”

He chuckled and sucked lightly on your skin until it darkened. “Still won’t mate you on a couch. When I do it, it’s going to be with your cunt full of my knot.”

You flushed and groaned in embarrassment, feeling the way your core pulsed again. Suna laughed and nuzzled your neck.

“Don’t worry. I have a lot of loving to give you before we get there.”

[icarryitin]

Trade Deal

spencer reid/gn!reader

i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain

summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.

It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.

You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.

“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”

Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.

“I’m-“

“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.

The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.

“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.

Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.

“What about you, Spence?”

JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.

“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.

“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.

“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.

At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.

He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.

“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.

“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.

“I don’t mind.”

You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.

“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.

“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.

“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.

“With extra toppings, of course.”

And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.

Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.

He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.

The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.

Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.

“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.

You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.

“Egg or no egg?”

There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.

“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”

i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡

[anlian-aishang]

Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.  

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what? 

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might. 

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.” 

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button. 

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame. 

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that. 

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable. 

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested. 

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated. 

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.” 

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away. 

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain. 

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well. 

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked. 

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me. 

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long. 

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device. 

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk. 

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife. 

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste. 

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion. 

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it. 

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew. 

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one? 

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years. 

Get in the bed, idiot. 

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing. 

Can I take this off? 

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up. 

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought. 

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you. 

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly. 

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.” 

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together. 

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him. 

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something. 

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight. 

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs. 

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…” 

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…” 

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed. 

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh? 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you. 

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for? 

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of. 

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last. 

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!” 

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…” 

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own. 

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!” 

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright? 

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.” 

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore. 

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight 

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time. 

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that? 

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin. 

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either. 

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.” 

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace. 

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud. 

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there. 

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…” 

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge. 

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings. 

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.” 

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there. 

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

[yncoreee]

YOU’RE MY FIRST PRIORITY. Minji x reader

Synopsis— After being the cause behind the end of your trip with your friends, Minji couldn’t help but feel nothing but guilt. Being the loving girlfriend you are you had to reassure her that she was your first priority.

Warnings .ᐟ Requested, established relationship, pet names, sick minji, minji being guilty, crying, wrote this in 2nd person POV 💀, Female reader, FLUFF

꩜ — ⵌWord count 944

Before you could take a step into the bus that one of your friends already owned, you felt a vibration in your pocket followed by your ringtone.

Without wasting much time you pulled your phone out of your pocket and furrowed your eyebrows at the contact name.

You picked it up and held the phone close to your ear. “Hey bae what’s up?” You asked in a concerned tone at why she was suddenly calling you when it wasn’t even up to 10 mins after you left home.

She coughed loudly. “Sorry, ummm y/n… I’m sorry for disturbing you but can you come back home? I’m feeling a bit sick” she expressed.

You felt like she was lying at first but when you heard the tone of her voice and how tiredly she talked you couldn’t help but feel even more worried.

“I’m truly sorry for disturbing you, there’s no one to take care of me…and I can’t even move an inch” she added sluggishly.

“Alright, I’ll be there in five minutes”

As you hastily ended the call, you glanced over at your friends who looked at you with worried expressions.

“Y/n is everything okay?” One of them asked.

“Not really, something important pulled up but don’t worry you guys can go without me, I’ll probably go another time” you responded with a faint smile leaving the venue.

You made your way towards both you and Minji's shared apartment, opening the door with a spare key. You noticed minji curled up on the couch looking under the weather.

Kneeling in front of her you lightly traced your fingertips over her sweaty-damp bangs. And rested the back of your hand on her forehead quickly retreating it. “Oh My you’re burning”

You gently held the back of her head helping her to sit up and lean back against the pillow handing her a box of tissue as she gave it a little blow.

“Hold on, let me cook something for you” you stood up from your kneels making your way over to the kitchen.

In less than 15 minutes you had whipped up some Samgyetang for her.

You placed the steaming hot bowl in front of her sitting right beside her. You scooped up a big spoon of the steaming hot soup and motioned it towards Minji's mouth.

She slightly parted her lips as you slipped the spoon into her mouth. She gulped down letting the hot liquid flow down her throat.

You fed her until she was full, letting her lay her head on your laps as you ran your fingers through her hair.

She slept so peacefully but she didn’t know what was coming for her next.

“Why can’t you just take the medicine? Do you want to be sick forever?” You questioned motioning the medicine towards minji’s mouth.

“Nuh uh, it’s bitter and disgusting” Minji huffed, swaying her head away from the liquid. Burying her face into a pillow nearby.

“Babe come on, stop being so difficult, the taste is going to fade away before you even realize it. Now open your mouth and take this medicine” you spoke in a soft and gentle tone.

“Minji….”

“No”

“Please….” You pleaded.

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll take it” she replied with a sulky expression.

She parted her lips as you slipped the bitter liquid into her mouth. Gulping it down her throat, she looked at you with a disgusted look as she gagged dramatically causing you to playfully roll your eyes. “See it wasn’t so bad now was it” you teased.

“Yes it was”

You chuckled lightly but stopped when you heard a ding coming from your phone.

Your friends had sent you a picture of them enjoying their trip with the caption. “What you’re missing out on😜”.

You slightly pouted that you couldn’t be there right now, enjoying with them.

Minji noticed your sudden change in demeanor. Peeking over your shoulders to see what made you pout a bit.

She felt so guilty for being the cause of it.

Tears began to fall from her eyes down to her cheeks as she looked down at the floor.

You responded to your friends shutting your phone and looking back at minji. “So should we watch a—“ you cut yourself off as you noticed her looking down.

“Min is everything alright?” You asked softly, placing your finger below her chin, raising her head up. You felt more worried as you saw a tear stain on her cheek.

Minji sniffed and immediately wiped away her tears. “Yes but it’s just…. Your friends are probably having fun while your here and I’m the cause of it” she sniffed in between her words.

“No minji—“

“It’s all my fault and I’m a suck a burden, I’m sorry” she said,not breaking eye contact with the floor.

“Minji you’re not a burden, you were sick and there was no one to take care of you and you did the right thing. It was good I took care of you before the sickness would’ve gotten worse, and I can hang out anytime with my friends” you spoke, confronting her as you placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“Really? I’m not a burden?” She looked up at you and then laid her head on your lap.

“No you’re not, you’re my first priority”

“The hangout was at the beach and I can definitely go to the beach any time, I can even go with you” you added.

“You’re so sweet, I’m so lucky to have you as my girlfriend” she mumbled but it was audible.

You giggled lightly and planted another soft kiss on her forehead. “So am I”

[purityonice]

🩷💎 Floyd x Reader 💎🩷

Disclaimer: I wrote this at 3am sorry if its bad. ALSO PART 2 LATER

Your eyes met while on the first show of the tour, you were in the crowd eyes filled with admiration as he sang. His world stopped seeming as it was just you two in this huge concert hall. A spotlight on you as he began putting %110 into his preformance.

He felt his heart flutter everytime you fanned over him. Especially when it was just his solo preformances. [Which also unconsciously contributed to the downfall of their perfect family harmony.]

After everything went down hill due to John dory’s ignorance. He tried to grab onto the vine to prevent himself from falling off the stage missing it by a hair and falling into the crowd. Landing on top of you winding both of you in the process.

Feeling the soft body underneath him gasp for air as he scrambled off of the poor fan. His heart skipping a beat when he realised WHO he has landed on. His face heating up as he felt himself getting the preshow jitters.

Wiping his sweaty palms off as he extended a helping hand out towards you as you gaped in shock.

Like was this really happening right now?! your idol was really infront of you let alone OFFERING YOU TO TOUCH HIM!? GASP!!

Your mouth ran dry as you took his hand into yours pulling youself up as he apologised profusely as jealous fans watched from afar. Security came and took him away before you could even tell him that it was no big deal. He looked back at you as he was taken away lipping once more i’m sorry before being lead backstage.

You felt empty as everyone was asked to leave early dragging your feet behind you. As you were waiting outside for your ride you you were stopped by security as they told you to follow them. Not wanting to get in trouble you decided to go with them without any complications.

As you walked you notived that you were being taken backstage. Feeling excitement bubble inside of you at the thought of seeing Floyd and the rest of the BroZone gang ONE ON ONE. Skipping inside of the entrance as they stayed outside.

Seeing the familiar pink haired troll pacing nervously until he saw you. His eyes lighting up as he walked towards you asking if you were okay.

You reassured him that you were alright he sighed in relief.

“I- I’m sorry my brothers aren’t here… they’re just letting off some steam right now.” He sighed out looking up at you his face flushing as a dopey smile was plastered on your face.

“It’s alright! I’m just so happy I get to see you again Floyd!” You beamed as he softly smiled as he watched you fan over him. “So you were the one who asked me to come back stage?” You asked tilting your head as he nodded.

“Yeah I just feel really bad about the concert ending early AND you know…winding you.” He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck. “I can make it up to you?” He muttered looking into your eyes as you blushed.

“I-I no Floyd it’s okay everythings fine! I don’t mind it’s more of an honor!” You blerted out waving your hands in front of you. But Floyd moved closer.

“N-no I insist! its the least I could do It’s my treat.” Floyd spoke grabbing your hands and pulling you closer.

“ohmygodisthisreallyhappeningohmygod” You thought out loud causing Floyd to laugh. A blush spreading across your face unable to conjoin words so you just nodded. Floyd felt a smile grow on his face as he zoomed to his dresser grabbing a peice of paper and writing something down and zooming right back grabbing your hand gently and placing it into the palm of your hand.

“This is my number text me when you get home okay? I’ll plan something for us to do.” He looked into your eyes feeling himself heat up at the situation.

“YESOKAYTHANKYOUFLOYDOHMYGODILLDEFBETEXTINGYOULATER” You practically screamed out holding his number close to your chest looking at the time and feeling upset.

“You gotta go now huh?” You nodded disappointed exchanging goodbyes before walking out the door, before turning around and rushing over and giving him a hug before you left. Rushing out of the door and yelling a good bye as sqeals and giggles could be heard fading away into the distance.

Floyd shook his head as he let out a low chuckle and grabbing his phone after hearing a notification.

“Hey Floyd I know you said when I get home BUT I couldn’t wait so HI!!!”

Smiling to himself before responding quickly tapping away at his screen as he heard his brothers come back still arguing about what happened during the preformance.

[kairiscorner]

happy birthday — miles 42 x reader (birthday special)

↳ summary: miles has been really busy a lot lately, training hard under his uncle to better his tactics at fighting and balancing school and chores on top of everything, he just kind of forgets today was even special. but luckily, you don't forget your boyfriend's birthday that easily. ↳ word count: 1,916

↳ a/n: i did not realize it was my son's birthday on the third, i'm so sorry it's late SJEBCBFIVBRFVBRBVVRBO BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH TO MAKE UP FOR IT, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY MY BOYYYY AND I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE THIS <333

"got any idea what's up today, miles?" you asked miles with a big grin on your face as you caught miles in the halls before class began. he raised an eyebrow up at you as he glanced up at you after collecting all his books and everything else he needed for his first class of today before heading off. "um... no. is it movie night tonight? because sorry, i... i can't make it tonight, cielo." he muttered as he looked at you with eyes filled with hints of sadness and shame at not being able to hang out with you, despite really wanting to. his responsibilities as being the prowler, a student, and a son have got him really occupied lately. he can't really quit either of these full-time jobs he's got going on right now, and you couldn't blame him. you wished he went easier on himself, though, and took more breaks, took it a little easier on himself, maybe would blow off some steam from time to time and tell you at least how he feels so it doesn't bottle up inside him over time.

you held his hand and shook your head. "nah, silly, it's something more important!" you exclaimed with a grin. miles tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrow as he looked at you with a look of confusion. "um... hmm, is it a study night? i know it's not our anniversary yet, it's not your birthday, uh..." he mumbled as he closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his head, frustrated with himself because nothing came up in his mind. he didn't think there was anything worth such importance today, though if he was being honest, he wasn't sure what date it was today; he just got by the month by remembering what tests were when, if tonight had prowler activities, or if tonight was going to be laundry night with his mom. he was honestly drawing a blank here, he needed you to give him more obvious clues to help him find out what exactly was so important about today.

you sighed as you let go of his hand and folded your arms in front of your chest. miles' eyes widened as he felt you let go of his hand, he reached out for your hand again as he stepped forward towards you. "cielo, wait! please, i... i'm sorry." he apologized first as he stepped back and took in a breath. "can you just, um, tell me what's up today? i'm sorry, i've just been so swamped recently, and i know that's not the best excuse, but i'm not--" he went on and on, but was interrupted by the first bell. "ay, gotta go, cielo, we can talk about this later!" miles said as he scrambled for his stuff and ran off.

you waited for miles outside of his classroom once your class ended, though he had to stay behind and ask the teachers a couple of questions and clarifications over his homework since he was having a lot of backlog due to his duties as the prowler. miles caught a glimpse of you outside, though before he could call out to you or walk over to you, the next bell rang, and you had to attend to your next class. miles couldn't focus properly, he was overthinking about whether or not he upset you, or if you were already disappointed with him forgetting what day it was today. he wasn't able to check his phone or ask for the date today since he was busy catching up with schoolwork. eventually, miles caught you at lunch, but... you were with ganke. you were huddled over with him at his table, the two of you smiling and chuckling at each other as you showed him stuff on your phone.

miles trusted ganke, and ganke expressed how he didn't have any interest in butting in between you two, but the mere sight of you with ganke–all smiles with him and laughing together, after he hadn't been able to spend much time with you recently due to his responsibilities and all–it hurt him deeply, thinking he failed you and were seeking comfort with ganke. miles walked away, hurt and sad, but angry towards himself for the most part. he ate lunch alone, just like he did before befriending ganke and meeting you, but he felt like he deserved it for pushing you aside, even if he didn't mean to and wanted nothing more than to be by your side.

as miles headed home after school, not seeing you in the halls or at the school yard as he scanned his surroundings for you, he felt super dejected and disappointed in himself. he wanted to stop thinking about his responsibilities for once and just put all his time, effort, and focus on you and only you–but he knew that would be a mere twinkle in his eye, a dream that will only remain as that, a dream. but as he entered the front door of his home, he was greeted to the voices of all the important people he had in his life, with yours ringing distinctly in his ears.

"happy birthday, miles!"

miles stiffened as he heard those two words with his name following the greeting not long after. he blinked for a few times and looked around–his mom and uncle aaron were there, so were ganke and... you. wait, could this be the super important thing you hinted about today? oh, man, did he feel like an idiot–he never thought of his own birthday as something of importance, but you... you kept thinking about him, all day. miles was speechless as you approached him, all smiles, and pecked his cheek. "happiest birthday to you, miles." you said as you pulled away and presented to him the gift you had for him. miles looked at you with a puzzled look. "cielo... for-for me?" he asked you as you chuckled and nodded. "for who else, dummy?" you asked him as miles slowly took the gift and stammered. "i... but, cielo, i don't deserve this. i've missed out on countless dates and meet-ups with you, i keep pushing you aside even though i don't wanna, i--" miles rambled on and on, beating himself up for feeling inadequate at making you happy due to his repeated absences.

before he could continue, you hugged him tightly. "and it's okay, babe. you're good. you try, and even if it doesn't work out, it's the thought that counts. i'm already happy you think of me all the time and want to spend time with me, even if you can't. i love you, miles." you tell him in a gentle voice as miles hugs you back, bringing you closer to him as he kisses your cheek. "i really love you, too, mi cielo..." he mutters as you pull away from him and lead him to the couch for him to open his gift from you.

you handed him a thick box, it was wrapped in purple wrapping paper with green accents, with a green and black ribbon to tie it up. you encouraged miles to open it as ganke filmed it, with his uncle aaron and his mom watching intently. miles was gentle in unwrapping the gift, he didn't rip it open, he wanted to feel the suspense of opening the gift you got him. soon, when he saw what was inside, he gasped loudly as his eyes went wide. he kept repeating 'wait, no...' in a breathless, excited way as he realized you bought him the sneakers he had been wanting for the longest time. he could never ask his mom to buy it for him, and he was saving up to buy them himself, but to get them from you... oh, he felt like he had ascended.

"mi cielo, no freaking way...!" he exclaimed in an overjoyed manner with slight chuckles in his voice as his smile widened as the fact you gifted him the very sneakers he had wanted for a long time sunk in and made him momentarily forget the sadness he was feeling just earlier. his uncle teased you as he wished you didn't gift him those sneakers, he'd have a new obsession for a little while and keep his eyes out for him. "that boy's gonna be wary about me, asking me if i touched them. he's gonna be real overprotective of those, especially since they came from you." his uncle aaron quipped as miles told him that wasn't true. just a little true.

miles kept thanking you and kissed you on the cheek, and as ganke was filming, he encouraged you two to share a kiss. "c'mon, you dorks! for the camera! kiss! kiss! kiss!" he chanted, with uncle aaron chanting along with him. his mother chided the two, saying you two weren't going to be doing anything of the sort in front of them, but you decided you didn't care anymore and pulled miles in for a gentle kiss. miles' eyes widened even more as you kissed him, and though his mother cried out in surprise, with his uncle clapping and chuckling as ganke cheered for you two, he found himself not wanting to pull away and kissed you back.

miles pulled away and gazed at you, a smirk growing on his face as he kissed your cheek. "oh, how did i get so lucky? how could i have you, mi cielo? you know, i'll stop being too serious, you're the only lucky break i have from all the chaos in my life. i promise you, though, i'll make up for all the time that should've been just ours together. i swear, i'll make this place safer for you, i promise." he said as he interlocked his hand with yours, clutching the shoe box in his other hand. he kissed your lips and pulled away, causing you to giggle and get flustered. "i'll hold you to that, miles. but please... don't hesitate to come to me, talk to me, or do anything with me. i love you, babe, i don't mind if you miss a few dates or meet-ups, just be safe out there..." you whispered to him with a smile.

his mother retreated to grab a glass of wine as his uncle called out to her to save him a glass, with ganke chuckling as he saved the footage and teased you two lovebirds. "this... has got to be the best birthday ever." miles gushed as he ran a hand through your hair. you chuckled as you fidgeted with the end of his left braid in your hand. "even with your uncle and mom watching us kiss, with ganke filming all of it, probably never gonna let us live it down...?" you asked as you leaned closer to kiss him again and pulling away. miles smiled sweetly at you as he answered, "really." he kissed you again, with you reciprocating his kiss. that truly was going to be a birthday he'll remember, and he's gonna make sure he keeps his promises to you and work hard to earn your love and pay you back for the gift you gave him. though if you were to ask him, the only gift he really wanted was just to... hold you close, hear your voice, and just be with you on his birthday and for all the birthdays there were to come in the future with you, his sweetheart.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @pixqlsin @solecitoszn @q2ie @zalayni @anikaluv

[hunnylagoon]

hey! I want to request a fluffy one shot about ellie being a parent with the reader. The rest is in your hands, write what comes to ur mind!

Small Hands

Summary: People say that the magic disappears when you have children, that never applied to you and Ellie, you are just as hopelessly in love as the day you were married. You celebrate Christmas with your friends and family despite a few bumps in the road.

A/N: I usually don’t fuck with kids but this concept actually seemed really cute to me. This chapter is a bit shorter, sorry if it’s rushed, I wrote this while studying for my exams. Thank you for requesting! If anyone else has requests, feel free to leave them and I will get around to them! There is the smallest teensiest weensiest smidgen of a angst in the middle but it comes from a third party. Warning for mentions of postpartum depression

-

The air was infused with the spicy aroma of gingerbread and the warm glow of twinkling lights as a group of friends gathered for their annual Christmas party. The cozy living room, adorned with tinsel and stockings, echoed with laughter and the jingling of bells. The adults, each holding a mug of steaming cocoa (with a splash of Bailey's), exchanged stories of the year gone by while the children, eyes wide with wonder, eagerly awaited the arrival of Santa Claus.

The living room sparkled with the joy of reunion, as friends who had become family over the years shared in the holiday spirit. You being the hostess of the party, had a flair for festive decorations, you had turned your home into a winter wonderland, complete with a towering Christmas tree and a crackling fireplace. "Levi, get away from there!" Your eyes went wide and you slammed your mug onto the coffee table before you ran to retrieve your son who was wearing an elf onesie and had been attempting to pull out bottles from the wine rack. Your friends and family laughed at the scene "Geez," You grabbed him from beneath his arms and scooped him up, quickly bringing him close to your chest. He had just turned four and was rapidly getting too big for you to carry him. You put him on the ground and ushered him toward the game room telling him to go play with his sister while all of the children were playing some kind of board game or watching the Polar Express. "Where is your mother?" You mutter under your breath, gaze suddenly focusing on the sink full of dishes, you sigh and walk towards them, figuring it easier to get them done now as opposed to when the part has ended and you're too exhausted to do so.

In the tranquil kitchen, the rhythmic cadence of water splashing and the clink of porcelain against stainless steel create a melodic backdrop as you diligently tend to the post-dinner ritual of washing dishes, humming along to the song 'Last Christmas' which you could hear ever so faintly rise above the busy chatter of the living room. your hands, adorned with soap bubbles, move with a graceful choreography, navigating each plate, glass, and utensil with practiced efficiency. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminates the dance of water droplets, casting a prism of reflections on the gleaming surfaces. The scent of citrus-scented dish soap permeates the air, as you, lost in thought, scrub away at remnants of roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

"There's my girl," You feel a pair of arms snake around your waist, you didn't need to turn around to tell who it was; it had of course been your wife, you looked down at where her hands rested on your midriff, her silver wedding ring glistened beneath the warm overhead lighting in the kitchen.

"Are you aware your son is trying to get into the wine rack again?" You turn around to face her, her hands changed from their spot on your waist to the edge of the kitchen sink, leaving you stuck between her and the counter, faces inches apart.

"What can I say? He's got drinking problems," She teased, gaze flickering to your lips for a minute.

"That's all you," You said, your faces were so close that you could've sworn that you could count every single freckle on her face. Without warning, Ellie puts her hands back onto your waist to pull you close, she plants little kisses on your neck, earning a giggle from you "Really?" You laugh "Is me washing dishes really that attractive?"

"Oh, absolutely," She thought you were so incredibly stunning, even in something as simple as a red cable-knit sweater with faded mom jeans and hair tied up sloppy in a claw clip. You had only bought the claw clip in the first place because your daughter told you they were trendy.

"Okay, seriously, there are kids here," You laugh, gently pushing Ellie away from you "We can save that for later."

"You just look so beautiful," Ellie wears a goofy smile on her face.

"In mom jeans?"

She shrugs "As beautiful as the day I met you, if not more."

You can't help the huge smile that consumes your face. You and Ellie had met in college, she was a bartender and you went to her bar every single Friday just to see her, all of your friends sat in a booth but you would always push for them to sit at the bar when they refused, you sat alone just to talk to the pretty girl behind the bar. "Do you remember how we were spending Christmas in College?"

"One bottle of peppermint schnapps and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels."

"You're forgetting a game of strip poker," You add.

"That's probably because I was hammered off my ass," She says bluntly and it makes you laugh. Back in college, the pair of you made plans to fly home to see your families but a snowstorm had other plans, with arrangements cancelled you went back to each other, cozying up on Ellie's beat-up couch and dumping schnapps into eggnog, god it tasted awful but the sound of Ellie laughing, her cheeks and nose pink from cold air almost made it taste better.

"You know..." You say, drawing Ellie's attention "I think it might be time to start the gingerbread house contest."

Ellie is way ahead of you, she leaves the kitchen and enters the game room, you can tell the exact moment she announced it by the kid's reactions all you heard was cheering before a dozen kids stormed out of the game room and gathered around the dining table where you had meticulously placed a gingerbread house decorating kit at each chair as well as little bowls full of several colours of frosting and miscellaneous candies lined down the center.

Parents sat next to their children or stood behind them, either rooting for them or guiding their small hands along the gingerbread, aiding the decorating process. Ellie sat between both of your children "Levi, you can eat it after you build it," She chuckled, gingerly moving the plastic butter knife of icing to the edge of a wall for the gingerbread house, "See? You put icing along the edges and then you stick it together and then when it dries, you have a house!" She explained in simple terms to your youngest, turning her head to look at your daughter who was too busy conversing with her friend to decorate "You should be listening to this too, Kenna, useful tips," She teased. Kenna rolled her eyes, she was ten years old and at that stage where she was starting to get embarrassed by her parents. Ellie laughed at your daughter's reaction, locking eyes with you from your spot by the doorway where the two of you share a look of understanding.

"Uh oh, looks like Papa's intervening," Dina said, she stood next to Jesse, cradling her baby, JJ, in her arms, watching the scene unfold.

"Alright, kiddo, here's what we're gonna do." Joel shooed Kenna's friend away, replacing her. Under hushed whispers he explained a plan to Kenna, the two were discussing a layout to win the gingerbread contest.

"Oh, it's getting heated now," Ellie said, now moving her focus onto Levi's sloppy gingerbread house.

Everyone was in the festive dining room, laughing and talking, truly in the Christmas spirit, all except for one; you heard what sounded like faint sobs coming from the kitchen. With furrowed eyebrows, you followed the sound and found none other than your friend, Catherine crying into her hands.

"What happened?" You break the silence, catching her attention.

Catherine begins to wipe away tears, shaking her head "It's nothing, it's so stupid-

"Well, it's not nothing if you're crying." You cross your arms. Catherine can't seem to get the words out, she just shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut in her best attempt to push back tears, her blue eyes red and puffy "Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

"It's just-" She takes a deep, shaky breath" Sometimes I wish I wasn't a mom, I just wish I could pack up my bags and leave in the middle of the night and never come back." Catherine was an English teacher at a middle school, you had met her not long after you met Ellie. She was also a new mother, she had only had her baby girl, Clementine for six months; you saw how tired she was, she always for dark bags under her eyes, she used to intricately braid her dirty blond hair every day but now she only had the energy in her to tie it up into a loose bun. "I'm sorry," She laughed "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Because it hurts." You answer, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Your daughter ran into the kitchen with a huge smile on her little face "Mom, you need to see my house, Papa Joel is helping me and it looks really cool so far-" Her smile faded in the slightest when she saw you with Catherine, "Is Cathy okay?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," You kneel to eye level with Kenna "Her tummy just hurts from too much hot chocolate so I'm gonna take care of her for a bit." You brush one of Kenna's lose hair behind her ear and plant a kiss onto her freckled forehead "Just go back to making your house, I'm sure it looks awesome, I promise I'll come see it when it's done but I think your auntie Sarah would love to see it." Kenna nods casting one last look at Catherine who turned around to hide her tear-stained face from your daughter and hurried out of the kitchen. "Cath, let's talk outside." You move towards the sliding door on the other side of the kitchen, you hold it open for Catherine who follows you outside, immediately hugging herself in an attempt to fight off the cold. "So, where is this coming from?"

Catherine looks around the snow-covered yard, she sees the snowman that your children made with Ellie the day before and it only adds to the unbearable weight on her shoulders "I'm not good at this, I'm a bad mom-

"No, you're not-

She lets out another sob "Like just now, you are so patient with Kenna and Levi, you and Ellie have this incredible house and an amazing family, you guys never fight and I just feel like I'm falling behind."

"You're crazy if you think Ellie and I don't fight, we argue all the time about the stupidest things, like earlier we fought about who would pop that champagne cork. We fight, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other, I'm sure you feel the same way about Emmet."

"I love Emmet," She says "I really do and I love Clementine so so much I just wish I had a minute to breathe." Catherine can hardly look you in the eyes "I work with kids all day and take care of them and then I get home and it's just more of the same but there's cooking and cleaning and it's endless."

The silence stretches between you two. Catherine's face is scrunched up, her pale turning red from the cold. With each unsteady breath, she heaves, a cloud of carbon dioxide emerges. The sleet covering every inch of ground acts as soundproofing over the neighbourhood, the only thing you can hear are birds flapping their wings and Catherine's heavy cries.

"Do you remember when I wanted to be a writer?" She asks "When I used to have dreams, I would hole myself up in that one corner booth of that coffee shop every Sunday and I would write for hours on end."

"And every time someone mentioned a book or movie that they like, you would ask what they liked about it so you could use bits of it in your writing." You say, your lips stretching into a thin melancholic smile at the memory.

"Well, it's all gone out the window." She was shaking by that point, not from the frigid air or her now wet socks but from misery "Two years ago I was hosting wine-tasting parties and Emmet was taking me out to these beautiful high-end restaurants. I could fit into sleek back dresses and wear high heels for hours without getting blisters, now all I eat is Kraft dinner and takeout. Every nice blouse I own has gotten baby vomit on it."

The way Catherine is speaking, she sounds bitter with despair hanging in her tone. You at a loss for words, postpartum depression was common but you hadn't realized just how much Catherine was suffering. She had spent six months feeling this way with no one to talk to. When you first adopted Kenna you were terrified, you thought that you wouldn't have a mother's instinct and that you were going to screw her up in some way or that she would resent you because you aren't her biological mother.

"I haven't got a full night of sleep in six months, all I hear is that fucking screeching cry. That's all she does is scream, she screams when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's upset and angry, it's all I hear and I'm so fucking sick of it." She buried her face into her hands "Emmet just loves her so much, he does everything with her without complaint and I can't help but hold the slightest bit of resent for her, I probably sound evil right now."

"You don't," You pulled Catherine in for a hug. Embracing her and all of her sadness, if it belonged to her then it belonged to you as well. "I'll tell you this right now, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck.

"That isn't helping-

You pushed her away, holding onto her shoulders, forcing her to face you. "Remember when you adopted that dog?"

"Toothless," She smiled at the thought of her old Labrador.

"He was a puppy when you adopted him, he had way too much energy, barked at every sound, and pissed and shat on the floor of your apartment a lot," You say, face dead serious despite the subject matter "That night before exams when you were exhausted and all you wanted was to sleep, you tucked yourself into bed and Toothless was right beside you and then he pissed all over your white duvet. You called me and you just cried and cried because you were so stressed and that was the tipping point. How about that time he dragged your period-stained underwear out of your laundry basket when you had a date over-

"Okay, I get it," Catherine laughed.

"My point is, when that puppy stage passed, you were in love with that dog, you blew off plans just to take him on walks downtown. If you had a bad day, you would curl up on the couch with him. Not that I'm comparing your child to a dog but when this postpartum leaves, that child is going to be the light of your life. Fridays at the bar won't sound appealing when you can make popcorn and watch Disney with your daughter, nothing else is going to matter as much as that girl. When Clementine gets older you'll find that every eye-roll means you're doing something right."

"Is that true?" She asks "About the eyerolls?"

"No," You laugh "It's just something I say to make Ellie feel better."

Catherine chuckles, wiping away what remains of her tears. "Thank you."

"I know it feels like it's the end of the road but it's not. It gets easier every single day but that's the hard part, you need to get up and face it every single day." Your words calm Catherine down. Her tears dissipate and with a deep breath she is no longer shaking "We should go back inside now, I wanna see who won the gingerbread building contest." You sling an arm around her and guide her back inside through the sliding door.

"But my socks are wet." She says, hesitant to step back inside.

"I'm sorry for making you stand in the snow but that conversation needed to happen," You urge her inside anyway, not caring if your freshly cleaned kitchen floors get wet "I'll lend you a pair of slippers."

You and Catherine return to the dining room where the contest is just wrapping up, both in fuzzy slippers; the pair Catherine wore had little black spotted cows on them while yours were teal and made to look like Perry the Platypus, a gift you received from Ellie out of the blue because she thought they were hilarious and wanted both of you to have a matching pair. "Just in time," Dina says, she's wearing a white turtle neck and blue skinny jeans, leaning against the wall, watching her husband with a smile "They're about to announce the winner."

Ellie is speaking in a hushed voice with Jesse who is holding JJ in one arm, she's acting as serious as ever and even pretending to ask JJ for his opinion, the baby just babbles in return "Interesting, thank you, JJ," She says. Ellie turns to the crowd, everyone goes silent waiting for her words "The consensus is... You are all winners!"

Many of the older kids groaned in annoyance, all of the adults knew this was coming that didn't stop Tommy from saying that it was outrageous.

As the night unfolded, the kids, bundled up in cozy sweaters, gathered around a table filled with art supplies to craft their ornaments. Laughter filled the room as little hands carefully adorned paper snowflakes and painted wooden stars. The parents, caught in the infectious energy of the children, joined in the crafting, reminiscing about their childhood holiday traditions.

With bellies full and hearts warmer than ever, the group of friends settled into a circle around the fireplace. The children, tucked in cozy blankets, many of the kids fell asleep in the game room while 'Home Alone' played on the TV.

As the night drew to a close, the guests exchanged hugs and well wishes. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow on the scene as the friends, with their children in tow, bid farewell, knowing that the memories forged on this magical night would linger in their hearts long after the last snowflake had fallen. Parent hauled their sleeping children away into their cars, putting a close on the night.

Ellie took Kenna, hand in hand, to the bathroom, making sure that she thoroughly brushed her teeth. She tucked her daughter in, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Kenna tried to argue that she wasn't tired but the second her head hit the pillow her eyes shuttered closed and any chatter she had in her was replaced by soft breaths emerging from the sleeping girl.

You had taken Levi straight to bed, he was already passed out when you found him curled in a ball on a blanket in the game room. He gently put him down on his bed and pulled a Spider-Man blanket over the top of him to keep his little body warm. You made sure that his night light was plugged in before stepping away and closing the door, but not all the way, you left it open a crack, just the way he liked it.

And so, the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, and the spirit of togetherness lingered in the air, a reminder that the company of cherished friends and family had just left, leaving you and your little family to sit in the static quiet of the fireplace crackling.

The air is still tinged with the scent of cinnamon and pine, and a soft glow emanates from the myriad of twinkling lights that adorn every corner. The Christmas tree, a majestic centrepiece, stands tall and proud, its branches adorned with an array of ornaments that glisten in hues of red, gold, and silver. A cozy fireplace crackles merrily, casting a warm embrace upon the room. Festive stockings, embroidered with care, hang in anticipation of surprises. Plush blankets drape over sofas, inviting you to sink into their warmth. Every surface seems to gleam with the holiday spirit, from the gleaming silverware on the dining table to the festive wreaths that adorn doorways. The ambiance is a symphony of holiday joy, where every decoration tells a story of cherished traditions and the magic of Christmas despite the displaced blankets and dishes, as well as random craft supplies that were somehow everywhere.

"We should probably clean this up before bed," You say, bending down to grab a throw blanket off the floor.

Ellie grabs your wrist to stop you "That's what tomorrow is for," You turn to face her "Right now I just want to be with my wife."

You grin "I don't think I'll ever get sick of you saying that."

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of saying it."

You kiss Ellie, she has one hand pulling you in from the small of your back. "I think I have a crush on you." You giggle.

"A crush on your wife?" Ellie raises an eyebrow "Who could imagine that."

"No I mean, I obviously love you but there's a difference between being in love and having a crush, we've been married for fourteen years and I still get excited when you call me pretty. I can't help but stare at you in a room full of people and when you look back I get butterflies because I just can't help but be thankful that I got lucky enough to have you." Your lips curve up into a smile "I don't think that was corny enough," You say sarcastically.

Ellie kisses you again, it is simple and sweet, like the taste of sugar resting on the tip of your tongue "I guess I have a crush on you too," She looked so pretty in her jeans and red flannel, sporting the haircut you gave her with pride; whenever someone mentioned her haircut she would get all giddy and say 'My wife did it!'. An idea snaps into your mind, and you swiftly break away from Ellie and kick off your Perry the Platypus slippers, jetting to the kitchen to the sliding door and running outside. Ellie calls after you, with no response, she follows your trail of teal slippers. She pokes her head outside "Honey?" She calls into the night, and instead of your voice answering her she is decked in the face by a snowball. "Ow!"

With rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, your breath forming clouds in the cold, launched the first snowball, its trajectory guided by both precision and mischief. Ellie, undeterred, retaliated with a well-aimed throw which truthfully fucking hurt when it crashed into you as she used to play softball and didn't know how to gently throw anything. The world around you transformed into a playground, each snowball being thrown with more power.

As the not-so-friendly competition unfolded, your movements became a dance—a graceful ballet of dodges and throws. The landscape bore witness to their camaraderie, marked by the hushed giggles (trying your best to stay quiet enough that you didn't wake the kids) and the occasional shrieks of delight. Frost-kissed eyelashes framed your beaming faces, capturing the essence of a moment suspended in the magic of winter.

The cold air filled with the warmth of your connection. You both paused, momentarily breathless, her laughter echoing in the serene stillness of the snow-covered landscape. Amidst the snow-laden trees and glistening ground, you and Ellie shared a quiet gaze—a fleeting, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that stayed unbroken with each tossed snowball.

Your cheeks flushed with both the chill of the air and the thrill of the game, finally forfeited, coming out from your shielding spot behind the shed, you laughed as you approached Ellie, moving your delicate hands to shake snow out of her hair. The memory of the evening lingered, a cherished chapter in the story of your enduring love.

[withwritersblock]

Until I Come Home

~Until I Come Home by Two Feet & grandson~

Author's Note: this was requested and it's so cute Summary: Cole is late for the plane for a roadie Warnings: implied smut Word Count: 802 Cole Caufield x fm!reader

Her head rested on his bare chest, soaking up every single moment of him. This was one of the longest road trips he was going on, all she wanted was him to be home with her, but he was going to be gone for ten days.

Ten days of only phone calls and nothing else. All she wanted was this moment to never end. “I gotta get going,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, starting to get up from the bed. 

“No,” she mumbled as she climbed onto his frame, leaning her lips down, kissing his lips slowly but urgently. 

He should’ve gotten up to shower thirty minutes ago. Cole knew he was running late, his teammates were going to kill him if he was late for the plane. Again. 

But right now, Y/N’s lips were more important. She knew what she was doing, trailing her lips down his body. Slow, wet kisses down his chizzeled frame. 

“Baby,” he let out, breathily. She hummed against his ab muscle as he tilted his head back. “I need to go,” he muttered. 

She lifted her head, climbing up his frame, her nose bumped against his. “No,” she mumbled, “Can’t leave,” she whispered before she kissed his lips for a brief second.

Cole rested his hands on her hips, tightly. “You’re going to get me in so much trouble,” he whispered as she pulled away. He met her gaze, running his hands up and down her side. She ran her hands up and down his chest, smiling towards him. He tilted his head back, shutting his eyes as he let out a dry chuckle.

“It’s only fair that I get you for a few more minutes, you’re leaving for ten days,” she leaned down, resting her hands on the base of his neck, she ran her thumbs along his jawline. He smirked as he clenched his jaw. 

He took a hold of legs, slowly rolling her over onto her back, He separated her legs with his knee as he slowly met her lips. “At least, let’s move this to the shower please, I really need to get moving,” He mumbled between kisses against her lips. He pulled away, meeting her gaze, he raised his eyebrows.

She nodded slowly as Cole climbed off of her. He wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her from the bed. He tossed her onto his shoulder, giggles fell from her lips as she excitedly rested her hands on his lowerback as they manuvered into the bathroom. He delicately placed her down onto her feet and scanned her features. 

“We’re showering, nothing else,” he pointed his finger towards her face, a teasing smirk. She nodded as she slowly pulled her tanktop away from her frame before she slowly slipped her underwear off of her frame. “Oh god, why do you have to look like that,” he mumbled as he slipped his boxers from his frame. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. 

He shoved open the shower door, stumbling inside with their lips still connected. He turned the shower on, the water hot surrounding them. Steam filled the room. “You’re a bad influence,” he mumbled against her lips as he tilted his head back against the water, letting it hit his face. 

“You’re the one leaving for ten days,” she mumbled, a teasing smirk on her lips.

~~~

He was jogging towards the plane, the social media manager not even outside to take photos of his entrance look. His hair was wet as the suit on his frame was a dark purple that was practically wrinkled. 

The entire plane started shouting random things towards him. He smiled nervously as his cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he walked past each player, he sat down beside Alex who was on FaceTime with his girlfriend.

“Real nice,” Alex muttered as he elbowed him in the side.

Martin was sitting on the other set of seats on the plane, “I wish I could bench you,” he muttered, a small chuckle leaving his lips; he was joking of course.

“I’m sorry, I was-” he trailed off, deciding it was better to leave out his morning activities with his coach. Despite their close relationship. His coach didn’t need to know that he was running extremely late because of his gorgeous girlfriend. 

“What were you up to?” Alex asked in a whisper, leaning towards Cole.

Cole smirked as he tilted his head back against the headrest. He turned his head to meet Alex’s gaze, “My girlfriend hates when I leave for roadies,” he said vaguely.

“Oh sure,” Alex said laughing as he shifted his attention back towards his own girlfriend on FaceTime.

Cole shut his eyes, picturing Y/N, a smirk still on his lips.

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:01

Angsty fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of Broken Collection

Go back to part 0

“An echo.”

“An echo?”

“Yeah, ya know-“ you interrupted yourself with a few waves of your hand…an attempt to summon some sense of understanding. “Like the same thing, but not…and it comes later.”

Your thoughts faltered when you looked up at the sound of a chuckle, but your timing was off. The evidence was already being erased from his lips with the pass of a scarred hand. A quick cough and eye roll reset his expression before he tried again.

“Yea, I get what an echo is. Don’t get how one brought ya here.”

You huffed, returning your gaze to your lap. This was all frustrating and so…so stupid. You were frustrating. You were-A slippered foot nudged your leg. He bent to your sprawled-on-the-floor level, hooking a finger beneath your chin, raising your probably bloodshot eyes to meet his naturally red ones. Your eyes watered as they widened at the close proximity. Fuck, he looked so good…and you were so tired.

“Hmm…fix your face.”

“Ugh, I know. I haven’t slep-“

“No, this.” Something ran across your lips, tracing the frown you didn’t know was on display. By the time you could process his touch, it was gone. He was standing in the doorway again. This time with his hand down, palm out. “Well, come on.” The rush of panic was instant, your head was throbbing, your ears were ringing, your thoughts frozen before they could start.

“Huh?”

“Did ya wanna sleep out here?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” He moved closer, and you let him help you up.

Ugh, standing felt like such a pain after a night of dancing with Mina and Kaminari. They were probably still out. You’d bailed after the third spot…once you realized you were in walking distance to-

“Ya good?”

You nodded, seeing he’d led you to the bathroom. “Soft,” you mumbled into the pile of folded somethings he pushed into your arms.

“Remember where everything is?” He paused for an extra moment while you blinked up at him. “Nothing’s changed.”

You must have nodded because he seemed satisfied before heading off to the kitchen. You wandered to the mirror, ignoring your reflection, and placed the clothes on the counter. Nothing’s changed. What a lie. So many things had changed.

However, he wasn’t wrong…quite a few things seemed to have remained: The extra loofahs beneath the sink, the clean towel hanging on the shower door because you’d always forget to grab one, lavender bodywash, color protecting shampoo, the drain cover to catch your hair before it wreaked havoc on the plumbing.

You let the water burn, and steam fill the room. Anything to hide these markers, these tiny headstones detailing who was here for a moment before having to move on. Eventually, you groaned and shut the water off. You couldn’t hide in here forever.

“What am I doinggg?”

“Using all the hot water in the building.”

“Shit!” You wiped at the shower door to reveal an empty bathroom. “The fuck?”

That same chuckle floated toward you. “Don’t worry, still out here.” A hand waved from the hall. “Ya didn’t shut the door.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, idiot.”

“Sor-“

“There’s food when you’re done.”

It felt so fucking good to be clean. You were halfway through putting lotion on, freezing mid-thigh. You’d bought this…for him at first, but then a larger size when you ended up loving the scent. Now it was just something else on the long list of things you had avoided for months. You finished getting presentable enough to journey to the kitchen.

He really did look so fucking good. His shoulders were relaxed, no longer grinding up towards his ears. His breaths seemed calmer than before. His back and shoulders had gotten bigger in all the best ways, while his waist seemed smaller somehow. He finally had the undercut you’d pushed for years ago, but he’d never wanted to try. He really, truly seemed like he was doing so much fucking better. But you knew that…you knew…you had said…you-

You jumped as his hands grabbed your face. When the hell had he turned around?

“The hell? You okay?” His thumbs traced along your cheekbones. Oh, tears.

“Yea, yea…just tired.” You tugged free of his grip, backing away to sit in the living room, burrowing into the corner of the sofa you used to like best. He half followed, and you could feel the question coming. He opened his mouth as you rolled your eyes. “Promise.” He shut it again with a tch, disappearing into the kitchen again. It’s like you were running lines from a script you’d memorized.

The food he finally brought over was probably delicious. You could only register it was warm and filling. It was hard to focus on anything really. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, too many memories, just too much.

“So an echo?”

You paused, noticing you had slid a pillow between the two of you at some point.

“Mmm. It’s probably better if we don’t unpack that.”

The cushions shifted as he stretched his long arms up and back down to rest along the back of the sofa. You found your gaze ripped away from the shoulders you couldn’t stop staring at by that same soft laugh you’d missed so much.

“Probably. Still wanna hear it though.”

“It’s just a theory…”

“Ya love those.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what is it this time?”

“It’s just…we broke up.”

“That’s true.”

“Well we broke up because we thought-“

“We?”

“Well we broke up because I thought we weren’t bringing out the best in each other anymore. Everything was harder and stressful and exhausting. We both put work first, but that made us feel shitty at home. But if we took time off to be at home, we felt shitty about not being at work. We were too similar and enabled so many bad habits.”

“Yea yea, I remember all that from before. Now what’s this echo?”

“Yea, so…we broke up because I thought that might be true. Now it’s been a while. And we’re both doing much better. Great even. And it’s just like a shitty echo of the heartbreak. Ya know? Because it’s like proof that we’re better apart than together. And…”

“And?”

“And so I guess that’s why I’m here.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Doin’ great, huh?” His fingers ran through his blonde hair. “Are you doing better?”

“What? I mean…I’ve never been ranking higher than I am now. And the agency-“

“Not what I asked.”

“You asked-“

“Not work. Are you doing better?”

“Oh…yes?” Finally you were looking when his eyes crinkled and his laugh was set loose. Pretty.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you?” He was no longer laughing but his mouth looked ready to release another at any moment. “Um, are you doing better?”

His hand was just warm enough for you to not flinch as it made contact with your neck. His thumb stroked the side of your face. Your eyes closed and you leaned into the touch you’d stayed away from for most of the year. You opened them again, unsure of how long he’d let you rest in the literal palm of his hand. He was fully grinning now.

“Not at fuckin’ all.”

“Not at fuck-wait not at all?” Your thoughts were getting more sluggish by the minute.

“Nope.”

“But-“

“Yea work’s great, but I’m always great at work.”

“But…You seem so relaxed and happy and I dunno…different?”

“No shit. You showed up at my door like I ordered delivery.” He laughed at your pout before it was fully formed. “Guess you’re too exhausted to wonder why I was awake at two in the fuckin’ morning.”

“But…but you go to bed at eight.”

“Been a while since i could do that.”

“Why?”

“You’re not the only one getting chased by echoes, kid.”

“Oh.”

Mmmmmm still unsure where this one is going, but these two are tugging me along. So we’ll see

Next part

Masterlist

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 | 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: The Hanahaki Disease is a rare illness where the patient throws up and coughs flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. In order to fully recover from the disease, it's necessary that the one they're in love with fall in love with them too. Or to fall in love with somebody else.

WARNING: Stomachaches, lung aches, nauseas, mentions of one-sided love. ANGST, with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 1

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N woke up the next day with a ray of sunlight filtering through the small slit in the black-out curtain that was left open, bathing the room in a soft, comforting light. For a moment, she felt disoriented, but soon, the familiarity of her surroundings enveloped her mind, reminding herself of where she was and the events of the previous night. A shiver ran through her body due to the vivid memories of the attack.

The girl sighed, closing her eyes and lazily stretching out on the mattress, feeling genuinely rested for the first time in what seemed like months, a sense of peace and security enveloping her body.

Deciding to face the day in a different way, Y/N got out of bed carefully. She swept her eyes around the room, noticing that Matt was no longer there, the muffled sound of cutlery echoing from the kitchen alerting her to his presence there.

The girl walked slowly towards the kitchen, where the tempting aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted her, her eyes finding Matt, who had his back turned to her, fiddling with some items on the counter between the sink and the stove, probably preparing breakfast.

"Good morning." Her voice came out in a shy whisper, her arms crossing around her torso and a small smile forming on her lips.

"Oh my God, you scared me." Matt brought his hand to his chest, just above his heart, as his body quickly turned to face her.

"Sorry." A nasal laugh escaped Y/N's, her palms momentarily rubbing the sides of her thighs, wiping her sweaty palms on her pajamas pants.

"Come, sit down." The brunette pointed to one of the chairs around the central table with his chin, turning back to his initial task.

Y/N slowly walked towards the table, her eyes traveling through the kitchen and living room quickly, thanking mentally that Chris and his girlfriend weren't there, probably in his own room. A feeling of nausea rose from the pit of her stomach at the possibility, making her shake her head quickly, shaking off the haunting thoughts.

Matt brought the girl a steaming mug of coffee, accompanied by a small plate with two slices of toast and butter, placing them gently in front of her seat.

"Here's your breakfast." He smiled childish, a gleam of amusement in his eyes as his hands made jazzy gestures towards the itens.

"Thank you, kind sir." Y/N let out a low laugh, taking a small bite of her toast. "Wow, what are you, Auguste Gusteau?"

Matt smiled at her joke, a red blush coloring his cheeks.

"Oh, I try." He shrugged, pretending to throw his fake long hair back, eliciting a new laugh from the girl.

As they enjoyed breakfast in comfortable silence, Y/N couldn't help but remember the heartfelt confession Matt had made the night before when he thought she was asleep. Her mind flashed back to the soft words he had murmured, expressing his true feelings.

Her eyes stared at the bottom of her plate as her mouth chewed on the small pieces of toast, weighing the possibilities.

"Matt." She called in a whisper, watching the boy, who looked up from his bowl, chewing the milk and cereal mixture slowly, a small "hm?" escaping from his throat. "Would you like to go out today? With me?"

Matt's eyes widened slightly in surprise, his jaw stopping its movements instantly, swallowing abruptly the entire contents.

"Sure!" His voice sounded high-pitched. "I mean, sure." He nodded using a more casual tone, smiling sheepishly. "What do you want to do?"

"Can we go to that amusement park we passed in front last week?" The girl proposed, looking at him with expectation written in her eyes.

"Of course! Let's go then." Matt nodded quickly, rising from his chair and taking the empty plate in front of her along with his bowl of cereal, putting them in the sink.

"Wait! Now?" She widened her eyes in surprise, placing her coffee mug on the wooden surface again, her mouth opening slightly.

"Uh, yeah... I mean, only if you want." The brunette added, turning on the sink tap and starting to wash the dirty dishes, avoiding looking at the girl behind him, feeling the skin of his face burn with embarrassment.

"Okay."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N knocked twice lightly on Nick's bedroom door with her closed fist before slowly opening it. Her eyes traveled around the room, finding Nick sitting at his computer desk, probably still editing the podcast or writing a new script for the next video.

"Hey Nick." She smiled, closing the door behind her back.

"Look who decided to show up." Nick replied in an amused tone, looking up from his computer screen to take a look at her. "Did you get any rest?"

"Yeah, I had a little attack earlier in the night, but Matt helped me." She walked slowly to the boy's closet, opening it and running her hands through the ones she left there.

"Do you want to stay here with me today? I still need to finish this." The boy asked, turning his eyes back to the screen in front of him as his hands lightly adjusted the headphone around his neck.

"Well, Matt and I are going out today." She confessed, trying to sound casual, keeping her eyes fixed on the clothes.

Nick froze momentarily, his hands hovering above the keyboard as his mind seemed to work fast. It wasn't at all unusual for Matt and Y/N to hang out - even though Nick was almost always with them - but at that moment, he could feel a hint of something different behind her sentence.

"Is that so?" He asked suggestively, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Where are you guys going?"

She blushed slightly, feeling shyness at the situation, an air of confusion and excitement surrounding her mind.

"To the amusement park." The girl shrugged, selecting the pieces she would wear and finally turning to Nick.

"Hey, that's great! Have fun." The brunette smiled genuinely at her, the meaning behind his words echoing through the walls of the room.

"I will, Nick... I will."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun shone in the blue sky as Y/N and Matt walked from the parking lot towards the amusement park, their hands almost touching from their proximity. Y/N's heart beating wildly in her chest, a mixture of nervousness and hope filling her heart.

The sound of laughter and lively music echoed in the air, creating an atmosphere of excitement and joy around them, along with the delicious smell of food and the sight of colorful lights flashing everywhere.

Y/N felt enveloped by the magical atmosphere automatically, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts about Chris that persisted in haunting her mind.

Matt noticed her momentary hesitation, even if it was almost disguised, his right hand landing gently on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worried about her distant look. "If you want, we can leave-"

"No! No, it's okay." She smiled small, shaking her head, trying to dispel his worries. "I'm fine. Just a little nervous, that's all..."

Matt smiled, his expression softening with understanding.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen... I'm here with you." His voice sounded calm and comforting.

Their eyes met momentarily, pupils fixed on each other, and the world seemed to pause its rotation. All the fear and nausea that Y/N felt seemed to dissipate. A small smile grew on her face when she saw Matt move his eyebrows slightly, with an amused glow that tried to convey some kind of reassurance to the girl.

Y/N looked away seconds later, finally able to observe every detail around them carefully.

"Wow." She opened her lips slightly, her eyes moving quickly without knowing exactly where to look at. It had been so long since she had done something like that.

Matt smiled, watching her delighted expression for a few more seconds before finally taking his eyes off her, feeling his heart speed up.

"Where do you want to start?"

The two decided to start with a roller coaster, and while they waited in line, Matt kept a light and relaxed conversation, helping Y/N to relax little by little, her anxiety slowly decreasing as they shared laughs and hidden glances.

When it was finally their turn, they boarded the cart, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through Matt's veins as Y/N felt more than ready, the adrenaline would serve her well at that moment.

Screams were shared as Matt raised his arms like a child, and Y/N let out loud laughter, their hair mixing against the wind.

The rides were complete, and soon, they disembarked. Y/N felt euphoric, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as she bounced with each step, quick words escaping her lips, explaining every sensation she felt.

Matt observed her with a wide smile, his eyes shining with his excitement and his heart warming immensely. He felt his hands tingling, silently begging him to pull her into a kiss.

As the day progressed, they continued exploring the park, enjoying all the attractions it had to offer while eating sweets and, on Matt's side, gaining teddy bears on the little games, giving them all to the girl.

Despite the doubts and fears that still hovered in her mind, Y/N was able to relax and forget about her illness for a few hours.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

In the days following their "date" at the amusement park, Y/N and Matt continued to get closer in a different way more and more. Matt showed his affection in many ways, through small gestures and acts of service that did not go unnoticed by the girl.

In one morning that she had slept at the triplets' house again, after a significantly difficult night of meltdowns, Y/N woke up on Nick's bedroom with a mug of hot cappuccino on the bedside table next to her side, prepared by Matt before she even woke up, along with a small pink post-it containing a heart and a small "good morning" written by a glittery pen.

During other days, they shared laughs and lively conversations, Matt always there to listen and support the girl through Hanahaki's ups and downs.

Y/N lost count of how many times he accompanied her back to her own home, and there he would help her with simple tasks, such as folding clothes or making dinner for her, demonstrating his care and attention in every small gesture.

At night, before bed, when she decided to spend the night with Matt, the boy would tuck her into his arms, offering comfort and security while she drifted off to sleep. His touches were soft and comforting, conveying a sense of peace that made her feel loved and protected, something she never thought she would feel.

Over time, Y/N began to notice these subtle signs of affection, recognizing Matt's love and dedication in a new and profound way that slowly cut the thorns from the roses in her lungs, showering them with a secret passion.

At first, the girl resisted, fearing that the love she knew was growing in her own heart for the boy would only fuel her illness, but as Matt enveloped her in his warmth, she began to blossom in a different way.

Her heart, once a devastated field of withered petals, now opened like a flower blooming in the sun. Hanahaki's flowers began to slowly wither, replaced by a new type of flowering: that of required love.

Every moment shared between the two was a blessing, a relief from the pain that had consumed Y/N for so many weeks. Matt's soft touches and gentle words healed the wounds that Chris had caused, even if unconsciously.

It was just another peaceful night that the two spent together at the triplets' house. Matt and Y/N enjoyed their favorite food delivered by a delivery service while watching a movie that had recently been released on Netflix.

The proximity of their bodies on the soft couch made the girl's heart beat fast in her chest, the tension increasing with each passing second as her mind created millions of scenarios of how she could even open up to him.

Matt gave her a worried look, noticing her stillness.

"Are you okay?" He asked after swallowing the bite he was chewing of the fast food, his voice soft and full of concern.

Y/N turned her head to him quickly, frowning before nodding, feeling nervous.

"Yes, I'm fine... Actually, there's something I need to tell you." She admitted slowly, her voice shaking with anticipation.

Matt stopped his movements, resting the burger in his hands on the box it came in, focusing all his attention on the girl, his blue eyes brimming with curiosity.

"I actually need to tell you something, too." The boy muttered with a playful smile on his face.

"You can... you can go first." She asked, raising her right hand and pointing towards his chest momentarily, clearing her throat awkwardly.

Matt took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a thin line as he gathered the courage to finally express his feelings while looking into her open eyes.

"You know, we've known each other for so long, right? And from the first moment, my heart hasn't stopped beating faster than normal whenever I'm with you." Matt said cautiously, watching her reactions carefully. "And then I found out that you were hurt badly because of my brother... I swear my heart broke into a thousand pieces, and I realized how much you really meant to me. I remember the exact moment it happened. You were so pretty-" He interrupted his sentence, widening his eyes. "Not that you don't look pretty now, you definitely do, you always look pretty, stunning even-"

"Matt, you're rambling." Y/N interrupted him in a whisper, feeling her face burn with shyness.

"I'm sorry! What I'm trying to say is..." He hesitated, taking a deep breath and reaching out his right hand, taking Y/N's one, tracing her knuckles gently with his thumb.

Y/N's breathing seemed to catch, her heart beating so hard she felt like she could hear it in her ears, goosebumps traveling up her arms as her eyes focused on their intertwined hands.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Y/N's chest bloomed in a good way. She felt as if all the roots and branches within her lungs retracted until they became dust, finally feeling as if she could breathe again.

"Matt, I... I love you too."

"You do?" The boy's voice came out at a higher volume than previously used, his posture straightening up and his fingers squeezing Y/N's hand in an involuntary act of nervousness.

"I do. You know, I've been thinking a lot about us lately, and..." She began with a deep breath, her eyes meeting his, her heart warming almost automatically upon seeing his dilated pupils holding so much love. "I thought I would never be happy again... that I would be doomed to suffocate on the petals of my own disaster forever."

She paused, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"But then you started helping me along with Nick, and every gesture of care, every word of affirmation and every comforting touch made me feel loved in a way I never even imagined I would feel one day." She continued, her eyes shining with the intensity of words. "This is so cliché, but you showed me that I could be loved by someone."

"How did you...?"

"I heard you talking about how you felt about me in that night that I slept in your room and had that crisis in the bathroom." The girl said, watching Matt's eyes widen momentarily as a reddish hue took over his milky skin, an embarrassed smile spreading across his cheeks.

"I didn't know you were awake." He let out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.

"I know you didn't." Y/N smiled teasingly. "Why don't you give me that kiss now, huh?"

Matt rolled his eyes at her advance, bringing his upper body closer to hers slowly, resting his weight on the back of the couch with his free hand.

Their gaze met momentarily while their breaths intertwined in a synchronized rhythm. The soft touch of hands still together sending a pulsing electricity through their bodies, while their hearts beat in unison.

A shy smile plays on Matt's lips, a mix of nervousness and anticipation hanging in the air. Then, without wasting time, the boy moves forward, touching her lips in a soft and passionate kiss.

A wave of heat and ecstasy washes over them, every cell in their bodies vibrating with the intensity of the moment. They lose themselves in each other's sweet taste. Their once joined hands now travel through their bodies freely, exploring waists, hips, and shoulders.

The world around seems to disappear, leaving only the feeling of their closeness to each other, as if they were the only two beings in the universe.

The sound of the house's front door opening and closing seconds later seems to wake them up, their tongues separating from the addictive dance as their bodies snuggle against the couch upholstery again.

Y/N's cheeks burned with love and shyness while she felt like her heart wanted to jump out of her chests and probably intertwine itself with his. Matt took a deep breath, a completely goofy smile resting on his face as his blue eyes carried a dazed look.

They felt like teenagers again.

The figure of Chris climbing the last few steps of the stairs with his girlfriend behind him appeared in their vision. Matt swallowed hard, ready to help the girl next to him if a crisis came. Despite her earlier confession, he couldn't help but feel insecure that there was still some remnant of love for his brother within her heart.

But the crisis never came.

Y/N briefly greeted the couple, smiling truthful at the sight of them crossing the room towards the stairs that led to Chris bedroom, before looking at Matt again. Her left hand reached for his one, intertwining their fingers before lightly squeezing them three times.

I love you.

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[anxi-aashi]

I'm shy but like... i need to suck childe dry, to the point of letting him all sensitive and whimpery. Leave his cute red cock sensitive to the slightest touch just to put him inside and cockwarming as long as I need it. Yes.

me too dawg............................ me too

warnings: cursing, oral sex (m!receiving), slight sub childe? praise, implied fem!bodied reader

a/n: ran out of steam towards the end no cockwarming sorry :( enjoy my first attempt at smut!!! MDNI

“Please?”

Spread out on the couch, Childe peered down at you, kneeling prettily between his legs. A slight smirk rested on his kiss-swollen lips, and despite the cocky air he had about him, a bright flush rested high on high cheeks. “Hm, I don’t know. Do you think you deserve it?” he cooed, bringing up a thumb to play with your bottom lip.

A wave of heat pulsed through you and settled in your core. You subtly squeezed your thighs together. “I think you deserve it,” you purred, hand inched closer to the tent in his pants. “Please? Wanna make you feel good.”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut short. He hissed in a breath through his teeth at the teasing squeeze you gave him, and the smirk quickly melted away. Beneath your hand, his clothed cock throbbed. 

“F-Fuck– yeah, yeah, okay,” he stuttered, trying not to seem too eager while tugging down the waistband of his pants. In any other situation, you wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to tease him a bit, but that thought was thrown to the side the moment he freed himself from his boxers. 

Flushed a red that almost glowed, the head of his cock slapped lightly against his light happy trail. You salivated at the sight and bit your lip. 

Your hands tugged down his pants the rest of the way to his feet, allowing you to shuffle closer and take his dick in your hand.

The action released a grunt from Childe that came from deep within his throat, his head falling limply against the back of the couch.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Someone’s sensitive.”

“And whose fault is that?” His gaze remained on the ceiling until you swiped a thumb over his slit, encouraging a few drops of pre-cum to race down his length and over your hand. His head snapped toward you then, hips bucking a bit. “God, baby, please stop teasing.”

A hum was all he got in response, but you wanted him just as bad as he, you. So you wasted no more time before reaching your other hand to lightly play with his balls as the one wrapped around his cock coaxed him into your mouth. 

The whine that escaped Childe at the feeling was most certainly not one he wanted you to hear, but God, you wanted him to do it again. You hollowed your cheeks and slowly took him further into your mouth before pulling up and dragging your tongue along a vein that ran up the bottom of his shaft. 

His hands clawed at the cushions on either side of him, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. His jaw dropped open, leaving you privy to all the desperate pants he sighed.

Just as you were about to pull off of him, you swirled your tongue around his tip, giving it an extra suck, and flicking again over his slit. A string of saliva followed you as you pulled just the tiniest bit away, checking on Childe, but the pause sent a hand of his flying to cup your face and snaking around to the back of your head. “Please, don’t stop,” he pleaded.

You weren’t planning on it. Taking him back into your mouth, you set a steady pace, bringing up the hand that fondled his balls to massage what you couldn’t fit. At a light graze of your teeth, Childe let out a broken moan that sent a zing of electricity through your veins. The hand at the back of your head pawed with want; you could tell he was itching to take over and fuck your throat. A surge of heat joined the wetness already pooling in your panties, and you couldn’t fight the moan that worked its way up your throat as you worked him.

His gaze fell on you when he heard your need. The flush had spread all the way to his ears and the deep blue of his eyes was nearly all consumed by his lust-blown pupils. “You like that— mhm! — My cock taste good, baby?” You moaned around him in response, not relenting with the bobbing of your head. “You look so pretty with my dick down your throat. So good t’me,” he mumbled. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you picked up the pace, his tip hitting a spot on the roof of your mouth with every descent. It didn’t take long for Childe to become a mess. His eyes didn’t leave you, watching a tear slide down your face, drool drip from where your bottom lip hugged his cock. 

When he felt the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat at your attempt to take more of him, he let out a long, needy whine, hips involuntarily bucking. The grip on your hair tightened. “Fu-uck! I— baby, I’m close, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—” Childe gasped, his breath catching before devolving into a drawn-out, guttural groan.

His seed spilled down your throat with his release and you swallowed what he gave you, save for a few drops that escaped down your chin from a few of your coughs. Chin slick with cum and drool, you grinned up at him. 

“You have another one in you?” 

He wheezed out a laugh, still recovering from his high. “I don’t— Ah!” his sentence cut off at the kiss you planted on the tip of his soft, but quickly hardening cock.

“Please?” Your tongue peeked out to lick your lips.

And really, how could he say no to you?

[echoingalaxies]

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

[yandere-kokeshi]

your yandere price was sooo good 😭

can i please request some yandere ghost? maybe reader is a young spec ops soldier who’s really damn good at their job and the typical obsessive behavior ensues but reader is a really stubborn and prideful person so they just fight against him at every turn

— Stubborn

Warnings: slight violence at the start, Ghost being angry, intense makeout scene (I tried!) And love confession.

A/N: Thank you!! Please enjoy this fic, and I may or may not be barking for this man ^^! This is also male reader. Hope that's okay :].

You're code-name is Cobra. While I thought it fit, in future fics, I may change it to a more gn name.

“I told you to stay in the goddamn post!”

His exploding voice echoed throughout the entire room. You flinched at his suddenly changed voice, watching the invisible steam come out of his back like a dragon ready to set fire to a poor village.

Angered. That was his emotion. He was shooting a sharp, repetitive scowl. He’s holding back, cracking his knuckles, hands clenching against one another before uttering something under his breath now and again.

It’s chilling — terrifying even.

Normally, he was quiet and nice with you — at least to some degree. But today you fucked up.

You watched him turn around, facing the big window in the room, admiring the midnight sky and moon. To some degree, it helps cool off the sweat on your body.

Or try to. It certainly did not help with the anger in the room.

Rolling your eyes, you got up from the chair beside the desk in the room, standing up behind him.

“I’m completely fine.” You raised your arms, dangling them around to show him that no cuts or even bruises were forming on your body. “We finished the mission. That’s all that matters, yeah?”

You heard him scoff, “All that matters?” He shifts on his feet, turning to look at you with a glare.

“I gave you an order. ” He stepped closer towards your direction. “A specific — detailed order to not engage unless I worded!”

With each word, he came forward until he was right in front of you, intimidating you with his darkened-brown eyes.

“I–” You started, before flopping your arms to the side in defeat. You looked at the ground before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry.” You offered pathetically. You saw his eyes twitch — clearly not believing the word you gave out. “I did a stupid stunt. I’m sorry, Ghost.”

“Cobra!” You heard him scream at you, demanding you to turn back and return to your hidden spot. “Cobra! Get your bloody ass out of there!”

Indeed, Ghost ran a tight mission. But when it came out of line, he got extremely serious and violent.

“Keep them off my trail!” You yelled at the radio, hearing Soap curse on the other end. You fired your gun, emptying bullet after bullet into their skulls with near-perfect aim.

Although, without moving a muscle, you could hear his footsteps — thundering right behind you.

Before you knew it, you were pulled away into a random room with a very angry Simon. Legs growing in pain and a yelling leader in your face;

You were simply doing your job, right?

“Yet, you didn’t back out.” He growled, pointing a finger in your face harshly. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.” You sneered back. “You should be grateful I took them down — killed them all before they killed the hostages!”

“Shut it.” He snapped.

“Really? Why should I? I mean—” You scoffed, “Your the one who decided to come and grab me, push me away when I was alright!” You growled, poking a finger into his chest.

“Then fucking listen. It’s my job to make sure you’re breathing.”

“Really?” You ushered. “Cause if I didn’t do that, there would have been a bullet between all of their eyes!”

Suddenly, you were forced against the wall, watching his gaze tighten and his tattooed arm being pushed up against your neck. You jumped at the loud bang in your ears, mouth going dry.

You could practically hear Simon’s heartbeat — flaming in waves like lava rushing over land.

Your blood was boiling. Fists and legs tingling in frustration. Eyes narrowing in.

“I’m not scared of you, Simon,” You answered, “Wanna hit me? Don’t be a bitch about it.”

You stared into his eyes, hearing him breathe heavily before feeling his arm release you, resting right beside him. “You need to understand that you should come first.”

Your chest heaved, head pounding in adrenaline and annoyance.

“Then, we have two different views.” You rasped. Watching him lean back, his eyes staring into your soul. “My job is protecting people. And I’m damn good at it, so I’m not gonna stand here and let you shit me down.”

You heard him scoff. “Doing it stupidly isn’t protecting people.”

“Then why are you here, Simon?” You snarled, leaning forward to him. Though, you didn’t see him flinch or move an inch. Rather than letting you challenge him by getting in his personal space.

“You’re on some real thin ice, Cobra” He snapped.

You snickered, digging a finger at his chest. “Or what? You gonna hit me, L.T.? Go ahead, I’d love to see you try.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He angrily blurted out.

“Wha–”

He gripped your shoulders, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him. “You can congratulate yourself all you want. But you need to realize the team almost — I… almost lost you”

You couldn’t think, nor anticipate his next move. What did he mean by that damn sentence?

But when his hand on your shoulder was removed, rolling his mask upward, and revealing his scarred face. You were hotly flustered and surprised.

His chapped lips — scarred nose, eyebrows, and greased smoked paint around his eyes. His soulless, brown-marked eyes were staring down at you. Hell, even his browned hair was somehow styled and perfectly cleaned. What the actual fuck.

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered face, “Cat got your tongue?”

His other hand gripped your jaw, thumb caressing your chin, pulling you into a hypnotic haze.

Pulling his face closer to yours, you didn’t expect to see or feel his skin — his stubbled jaw, his lips against yours, swallowing your fury.

He tasted sweet, almost too sweet for an angry and dangerous man.

Moaning into the kiss, you felt a smirking plaster against his face. Fuckin’ teaser.

You couldn’t breathe — think properly by his addictive smell and taste. His scent was calming, a calm that wasn’t needed now.

His free hand grabbed your side, pulling you closer into the touched makeout, making you feel his chest heave into yours. Slowly, your hand raised, dragging your fingertips into his slick and semi-wet hair, locking them between your fingers.

Kissing him tenderly, you felt him stiffen — slightly unsure how to proceed with this… ‘debrief’

But, he welcomed it a second later, grasping your jaw as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your cavern. Earning a small whine, he departed himself from you with a trail of saliva.

Pulling away, you both looked like a mess; the two of you acted like you had an intense wrestling match, with hair slightly messed up, ragged breathing, and shaky gasps that certainly would be heard from outside the room.

Suddenly, Ghost grabs you, pulling you into his chest as your head rested against him, hearing his pounding heart and heavy breathing.

“I know you’re bloody good at your job. Jus’... never fucking do that again.”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling butterflies form in your stomach. “Didn't expect you to love me.”

You heard him mumble something, but from the shift on his feet, you already knew the answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

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[wreckingtickles]

Onsen Nonsense

Inosuke sneaks into a supernatural onsen and meets a woman who claims that she can remove his weakness.

An SFW, lee Inosuke fic for the amazing @lovelymessybubbly, who helped me pick out his spots! This story wouldn't exist without her art, as I've never read/watched Demon Slayer but her peices for it are just so good. Sorry it took me so long, I ran out of steam towards the end again.

Words: 7,559

WARNING: semi-intense and possibly slightly spicy tickle torture under the cut.

"An onsen?"

"So it seems."

"In the middle of a rocky desert," remarked Zenitsu, spying from behind a jutting crag, his hands trembling as he clutched his weapon.

Where moments before there had been nothing but an endless expanse of gray rock, a wooden structure shrouded in low mist now stood.

“Can we go around it?” pleaded Zenitsu.

“I suppose we have no reason to fight. Wait, it’s…”

“...vanishing?”

The mist around the onsen grew thicker, fully obscuring the structure from view, then fainter and fainter, until the bone-dry rocks where it had just stood came into view again.

“This is too freaky,” complained Zenitsu. “Let’s leave.”

“Wait.” Tanjiro grabbed his sleeve. “Where’s Inosuke?”

—

Inosuke had snuck in through the open front door, the soft thuds of his sandals absorbed by the tatami. The mist behind him was absolute, having engulfed the entirety of his vision except the corridor wrapping around the onsen. A sourceless light lit it, leaving no shadows to hide in.

A human form, kneeling on the ground. A woman.

“Greetings, warrior,” she proffered. “My name is--"

Inosuke dashed forward, swords in hand, cleaving an X into the woman, his motion carrying him forward.

“I don’t care. Die, demon.” 

“There’s no violence here. No pain,” explained the woman. Inosuke turned around, raising his guard: the woman, even her kimono, were completely undamaged. She was regarding him with a polite smile, her eyes two crinkled fissures.

“I am no demon, but a mere scout, wandering endlessly to procure clients for this onsen. The warrior need not fear me.”

“Fear?! Ah!” laughed Inosuke. “You’re freaky, but I’m too strong to be afraid of you!”

The woman cracked a smile. “I offer respite to the weary traveler. The onsen will deposit the warrior back where it appeared once it is time. In the meanwhile, I will cater to the warrior’s desires. The waters of this onsen wash away all that is unwanted. Pain. Ailment. Weakness.”

“Are you calling me weak?!” flared Inosuke, lifting his swords again.

The woman’s polite smile didn’t waver. “I am claiming that I can make the warrior even mightier.”

—

Inosuke stomped after the woman as she glided with practiced grace down a corridor. He’d gorged himself until he was practically bursting and changed into the onsen’s gray-lavender robe.

“So where’s this magic water?!” he repeated for the twelfth time.

“If the warrior would follow me,” she reiterated calmly. Inosuke hadn’t noticed it when she had greeted him, but now that she was standing, she was a full two heads taller than him.

She stopped in front of one of the countless sliding doors in the maze-like onsen and opened it.

A thick wooden pole jutted out from the floor at the center of the room, reaching at about the woman’s height rather than touching the ceiling. Five levigated logs were tied together to form a sport of bench, one end of which was attached to the pole itself. A cushion had been placed on the bench next to the pole. The walls were entirely made out of sliding doors.

She motioned for him to stake a seat on the cushion, and he complied. She then knelt down next to him and produced a long crane feather from one of her sleeves. She then lowered her other hand. “If the warrior would kindly lend me his foot sinistral.”

“Uh?”

“His left foot.”

Inosuke eyed her for a brief second. What was she scheming? He couldn’t begin to guess what a feather might be for. Her smile did not reach her eyes, her professional politeness an impenetrable mask. But he didn’t want to give her the impression that he was afraid of her, so he complied.

She placed her palm under his heel, lifting his square, broad foot, knitted with muscle like every part of him and still red and raw from the day’s travel, so it was level with her chest. Then, she rested the plumed tip of the feather on the heel.

“GYAAAAH?!”

Inosuke flew out of his seat, leaping several paces away from the unfazed woman and landing in a combat pose. “What the hell was that?!”

“I know not of what the warrior speaks,” explained the woman, tilting her head slightly. “This is an ordinary feather.” and to prove her point, she ran it along the length of her palm, then showed it to him.

“I felt… You did something!!” he insisted.

The woman’s smile grew imperceptibly. “The warrior has an extraordinary sense of touch,” she remarked, laying the feather on her lap. “Unfortunately, his formidable senses also allow weakness to fester inside his body. Notice how sensitive he is to the most superficial of touches. He hardened his body to withstand injury and pain, but has left it vulnerable to gentler torments.”

“Vulnerable?!” he shrieked in outrage.

“Vulnerable,” echoed the woman. “Why else would the warrior be unable to withstand what I can?”

That was all it took to get him to furiously stomp towards the bench.

“I can withstand anything!! That’s just a stupid feather!!”

“Tis a mere feather indeed,” she conceded. “And a warrior has no reason to dread its ilk. Its purpose is to make him aware of the chinks in his armor.”

“I’ll show you a chink!” he protested, the wood groaning under his weight as he dropped on it, thrusting his foot forward so hard he nearly kicked her in the chest. “Come on! Get it over with!” he yelled.

She gently cradled the heel again. “If that’s the warrior’s desire…”

The feather drew closer to his sole again, and Inosuke crossed his arms, scrunching his face so hard his jaw was vibrating with effort.

The feather touched down on the mound of his heel.

“PPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!!”

Inosuke sprayed spit like a bathing elephant as he tried and failed to hold the gales of laughter that wanted nothing more than to blast out of his lungs. It… something so much!! What was happening to his body?!

Starting from the bottom, the feather circled around the callused heel, then cut across the mound and headed higher. The woman noticed how his struggling intensified as the feather began its descent up the arch, skillfully dodging the protection of his hardened skin…

“GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

Tendons and muscle put up a useless resistance as the tiny barbs nestled in every minuscule wrinkle on the more sensitive arch, a journey that to Inosuke felt endless as the feather slowly rose to meet the mound of the ball, crawling up the cleft in the middle of it where the muscle parted, dodging the callus and unearthing a treasure trove of nerves in that valley.

“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

It had only been a few seconds, and Inosuke was a rich shade of purple.

Next, the feather circled the ball before swiping horizontally across the base of Inosuke’s toes.

The sudden acceleration caused a startled cry to escape his inflated cheeks. “AAH!” But somehow, he managed to keep his foot in her grasp.

“I would urge the warrior to keep very still for this next part,” requested the woman was she positioned the feather between Inosuke’s big and second toe.

She swiped.

“NNNNNGH!!!”

She repeated the motion between the next set of toes. And the next, and the next. 

“GHA!”

“UGH!”

“HAA!!”

Inosuke felt genuine gratitude when the feather began to brush the top of his foot, but it was a relative relief. He was still struggling incredibly hard to keep still when every nerve was screaming at him to get away from that cursed feather, which then proceeded to trace the outline of his foot. “NNH! GH! NEH! UAH!”

But his plight was far from over, because the feather swiped at his ankle, then crawled up his calf, and the closer it got to his knee, the higher the pitch of his stifled hysteria. “NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIII!!!”

Mercifully, the feather left the underside of his knee alone… only to unleash a much worse sensation as it began to travel up his inner thigh.

“KSHNTSHSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!” It was unbearable, and Inosuke’s hand shot to intercept the woman’s wrist before the feather went too far up his robe.

“Stop right there, woman!” he thundered. She offered no resistance.

“I will spare the warrior his modesty,” she assured amicably, lifting the feather upright as a show of sincerity. Inosuke glared at her for a few more moments before relaxing his grip.

“I must, however, test the other leg.”

“You must wha-NAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA STAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAPPP!!” screamed Inosuke as the feather began its descent down the other leg.

By the time the barbs left his heel, Inosuke’s chest was flushed and heaving with the double effort to endure the agonizing sensation without pulling away, having shuffled off the upper part of the robe in a desperate attempt to escape the heat welling up inside him.

The woman didn’t seem to mind his heavy breathing as she slid closer to him, pushing her fingers against his left wrist. “Now for the warrior’s torso.”

Although he wished nothing more than to make a run for it, Inosuke followed her gentle pressure and lifted his left arm.

“The warrior’s musculature is a thing of beauty”, stated the woman as muscles and tendons harmonized to allow that simple motion. But before Inosuke could think anything of the compliment, he felt the feather dance down his bicep, starting at the elbow, and he forced his mouth shut again.

The feather located the groove at the intersection of Inosuke's bicep and his tricep, arching slightly under the pressure of the fingers that pushed it inexorably closer to his armpit.

"GGGGGGGNNNNNNNN..." 

Ok, that wasn't too bad, it didn't make him want to set his skin on fire, he could do it.

The tip reached the outer ridge of his underarm.

No, he couldn't.

"PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!"

He didn't need to look at the feather to know that it was starting a clockwork revolution around his hollow, its plumes nearing his scapula, then turning inward, approaching the protruding pectoral muscle, teasing its very edge, closing the circle ...

There were actual tears at the corners of Inosuke's eyes.

Then the feather cut vertically across the hollow.

"ACK!" he exclaimed, pulling at his arm to protect the area, and for a fraction of a second, he was met with the invincible resistance of the woman's grasp, but it came undone before he was able to think much of it.

"Enough! How is this helping me get stronger?"

The woman regarded him dispassionately. " The warrior shouldn't despise the instrument that reveals his weakness, but embrace it to bolster himself."

"I'm not weak!" Inosuke protested, spittle spraying the woman's face, but she maintained her posture, an invitation to resume their weird investigation.

"I'm not," whined Inosuke before letting her hold his forearm again and expose his underarm. 

"The warrior need not stifle his natural impulses," said the woman as she dragged the feather across the inner part of his hollow again.

But Inosuke wouldn't allow himself to laugh.

The feather began to trail along the lower curve of his pec, burning its way to his sternum, then up, to the base of his neck" his Adam's apple, the base of his jaw, the back of his neck, his shoulder, his clavicle...

Inosuke was trying so hard not to move he forgot to breathe, his cheeks puffy and his face beet red.

"The warrior is enduring magnificently," praised the woman, the feather skating diagonally across his chest.

Touching the top of his ribcage.

"PPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

Too much. It was too much. Somehow, Inosuke managed to force himself to withstand the maddening kisses of the feather as it counted each and every rib on its way down to his sides.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!"

It was unbearable, and he could have sworn that she was going slower, she had to, it was just so bad, how many ribs could he possibly have?!

Like closing a dam in a raging river, Inosuke was finally able to shut his mouth when the feather reached his side, though he was still vibrating in place; but this would prove to be a pyrrhic victory, because all too soon the feather skirted the edge of the robe along his waist before starting its final ascent between the ridges of Inosuke’s six-pack, circling each of them, dusting around and inside his bellybutton, lovingly caressing the sculpted muscle over and over…

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! HHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!”

The dam broke, having already been eroded by all of the feather’s previous touches, culminating in yet another unbearably sensitive spot it was just having a field time exploring. Inosuke wanted to suck in his stomach, but the deep laughter he was forced to produce made it impossible, so the ticklish muscle kept pushing into the barbs themselves. He despised the sensation, but curling into a ball like he so wanted would have meant admitting defeat, and he couldn’t allow it!

A new torrent of laughter spilled out of him when the feather traveled up his other flank and over his ribs, repeating the horrible ups and downs from his left side. 

When the feather finally left his right elbow, he felt as if he’d been exercising all day.

“Unf… unf…” 

A rivulet of sweat ran down his spine, his skin glistening with perspiration. Was it over? Was he stronger now?

The hated feather disappeared up the woman’s sleeve. “The warrior will have to labor intensely to rid himself of all his weakness,” she estimated with her usual polite smile. “I propose we concentrate our efforts on the four most critical areas, four being the number of death that weakness pulls us towards.”

Inosuke was extremely wary of the woman’s polite tone, as if she hadn’t just subjected him to some unknown form of torture; that said, she was right. She had proven that there was weakness in him, and he had no idea how to stamp it out on his own.

“Ok,” he growled. “But no feathers!”

The woman smiled complacently. “Though it would be a marvelous tool to achieve our goals, the warrior’s skin is too moist now for it to be employed efficaciously.” 

She rose to her feet, towering above him once more. She pointed to the sliding door at the back of the room. “The warrior may bathe whilst I collect the tools.” 

—

The warm water melted all of Inosuke’s tension, including his concerns about this weird onsen and the woman manning it - the only person he’d seen in that massive structure. Well, magic was magic, no use trying to explain it. He relished the sensation of his powerful muscles unwinding, his skin coming alive in the warmth. He felt… clean?

When he heard the woman call him from the adjoining room, he got out of the bath, dried himself off, and tied the robe around his waist, though he didn’t wear the upper part, letting it hang behind him.

The bench and pole looked much more ominous now, as ropes had been coiled around each of the logs of the bench and around the top of the pole. At the opposite end of the bench there was also something resembling a vertical board with two large holes, as well as a basin in which floated two scrub brushes.

“What are you scheming, woman?”

She was kneeling next to the bench, motioning for him to take a seat.

“The warrior is mighty indeed. Although no harm can come to either of us in this place, I would prefer he not strike me while I administer his treatment.”

Inosuke was unconvinced.

“The warrior might be better able to endure if he needn’t restrain himself. He should not let fear stand in the way of strength.”

“I’m not afraid!!” yelled Inosuke mechanically, stomping over to the bench. As he did, the woman pulled a latch on the thick board, causing it to part halfway, splitting the two holes in half. She motioned for him to place his ankles in each opening, after which she shut the stocks and locked them. She then proceeded to tie the ropes secured to the bench around his knees, then lifted his arms up, tying his wrists together to the pole behind his back, so Inosuke’s vision of most of his body was partially occluded by his own biceps.

Inosuke pulled with all his strength. The restraints creaked, but neither the ropes nor the stocks showed any signs of giving.

“How long will this take?” he asked, beginning to regret that arrangement.

“As long as necessary,” replied the woman. “Or till the warrior resigns himself to his limits.”

He didn’t like the way she said that one bit. It felt like she was trying to manipulate him from behind her polite mask. But he was no longer in a position to do anything about it, beside calling quits. But he wouldn’t do that.

“I shall proceed soon,” informed the woman as she reached for a bowl into which she had mixed salt and oil. Then, she rubbed the mixture onto her hands and proceeded to massage it into his skin, starting at his shoulders and working her way down his body.

“Is this too much for the warrior to handle?”

On the contrary, it felt… weird, but quite pleasant. He still felt that odd, sharp sensation when her palms, textured by the salt and lubricated by the oil, massaged certain spots, such as his armpits, certain parts of his chest, and he actually hid his mouth behind his bicep when she began to work his ribcage, then moved down to his flanks and belly, the salt coagulating in the deep grooves of his abdominal muscles.

She then repeated the process on his legs, rubbing his thick thighs one at a time, and he couldn’t help the little shudders when her fingertips trailed along the inner portion. Fortunately, his shins would prove to be less sensitive.

“This area will require a lot of preparation before we can begin to cleanse it of weakness,” she announced as she began to massage the salt and oil into his broad soles. Inosuke wouldn’t have expected it, but he found himself enjoying the attention, though that weird sensation that shot up his leg whenever her touches softened prevented him from relaxing completely.

“The ensuing step may be slightly unorthodox, but a skin as tough as the warrior’s demands it,” she expounded while lifting the two dripping brushes out of the basin. A hint of concern showed from between Inosuke’s arms when he saw her move them closer to his torso. 

It finally clicked. “Wait!”

But there was nothing he could do to prevent hundreds, thousands of soft bristles from being pressed into his skin as the woman proceeded to obliterate Inosuke’s underarms with furious circular scrubs.

“WAHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Up and down, left and right, the two brushes removed every spec of salt on the muscular outer ridges, the sensitive hollow, then the curves of his chest, effortlessly and torturously gliding along the thin film of oil.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!! THIHIHS SUUUUHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHACKSSSS!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!”

The vigorous scrubbing gave a vibrato quality to his laughter, as if the sound was attempting to empty his lungs to settle there. 

Inosuke became rapidly and keenly aware that the bristles of each brush were arranged in three separate rows, each capable on its own to cause untold mayhem on his skin as it exfoliated it in the most excruciating way.

The woman’s motions became broader to encompass his entire chest, causing Inosuke to shimmy comically as he laughed his frustration at the ceiling, higher pitched staccatos intruding when she ventured too close to his ribs.

“HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!!! Haahahahahahaha…”

Inosuke’s laughter tapered off for the briefest moment while the woman dipped the brushes into the basin. 

He didn’t get to savor the brief moment of respite before she started scrubbing his midsection.

“Ha… What the HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELL!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA HAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA!!! NOHOHOHHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

Inosuke pulled at the ropes, hard, forgetting for a moment that he was supposedly undergoing some form of training, the sensation simply too much for him to bear.

The bristles bending a little bit more when they encountered the ridge of a rib, then snapping forward after cresting it, descending into the groove like the tiniest fleet defying a tall wave, only to do it all again at the next rib, and then backwards, over, and over, and over again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHA!!!!! SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAAHHATTT!!! HAAHAAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHHA!!!”

The woman was indefatigable, her practiced motions seeding a completely new sensation deep inside Inosuke that wasn’t pain, but that he couldn’t help trying to escape anyway.

“I do believe I have located the warrior’s greatest weakness,” she said with a too satisfied smirk that Inosuke wasn’t able to register, his restraints preventing him not only from shielding his ribcage as he so ardently desired, but even from doing more than catching glimpses of the despicable torment that his sense of touch went into overdrive to faithfully transmit, searing his nerves and leaving him helpless in the face of unbidden hysteria.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!! EHEHEHEHEHNOOOOOOUHGH!!!! EHEHEHEHEHENAAAAAAAHAHAHAAHHAAHHA WIHIHITH THEHEHEHE RIIIIHIHIHIHIBBBSSS!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

The relief he felt when the brushes began to go lower and target his sides and stomach was minimal, the two spots proving to be marginally less sensitive, much to Inosuke’s chagrin. The brushes followed the curve of his snatched waist like a lover’s hands… well, the hands of a lover who was very aggressive in their desire to send him ballistic and its execution.

“OOOOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!! OHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

The bristles exfoliating his toned abs awakened something primal in Inosuke, like a wild animal trying and failing to shield its soft belly from a predator, but the ropes wrapped around his knees and the pole behind his back severely limited his range of motion.

And to top it all off, she wasn’t done with his bottom ribs either.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIHTTT OOOOHOHOHOHOHFF!!! IHIHIHIHITS CLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAAAAAAANN!! IHIHIM CLEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAAAAAAAANNN!!!”

To an ordinary person, the woman's ministrations may have been painful; but since Inosuke's skin was as tough as the hide of the hogs he was named after, the outcome was a harmless response that his enhanced sense of touch turned into excruciating ticklishness.

"The warrior is enduring wonderfully," she claimed, as if he were handling the process better than most instead of having a complete meltdown barely three minutes in.

The woman devoted copious attention to his midsection, rewarding the training that led to Inosuke's chiseled physique with a torment he was unequipped to deal with. He'd never felt anything like that sensation before.

Splash. The brushes were dipped into the water again.

"Now for the lower half," she announced with a serpentine crinkle in her smile.

"NO!" yelled Inosuke, his fury spoiled by the dopey grin still on his face. "This isn't making me stronger! You're... You're..." He had to pause, as he had no idea what the woman was actually doing or what she might want. "You're just making fun of me! So let me go or I'll free myself and kick your ass!!"

It would have been hard for anyone to take his threat seriously when he was flushed pink, he had to scream between his biceps, and his panting like a bellows was due to a few minutes of tickling.

She waited a few moments before stating, "The onsen will return the warrior to his world soon enough. If he wishes to withdraw from the treatment, that is indeed his prerogative."

"Stop talking all flowery and cut me loose!"

She lowered her voice as he raised his, forcing him to quiet down. "However. I believe I have demonstrated the warrior is burdened with a weakness to which he was previously not privy. I also believe I have not done any harm to him, nor warranted suspicion of nefarious designs. Therefore, it may behoove the warrior to entertain the notion that my vow to rid him of his weakness as well as the necessity of the treatment are, likewise, truthful."

Inosuke understood a word in three, but he got the general gist: he was proving to have a glaring weakness he knew nothing about, and that woman might be the only person capable of  ridding him of it. He could go back to his companions empty-handed and defeated, or he could tough it out and maybe get something out of it. He could always murder the woman later.

"Make it quick," he growled.

She nodded and lifted the brushes again. The warm drops dripping on his right thigh warned him of what was about to happen.

"Oo crAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAPPPP!! OHOHOHOH THIHIHIHIS SUHUHUCKS SOHOHO MUUUUUUUUUUUHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHACCCHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

There was also a brush scrubbing the upper portion and the outer side of the thick muscle, but the one harassing the inner right thigh was the only thing that Inosuke could focus on, even though he would have loved to be able to take his mind off it.

That spot felt like it should never be touched, though he’d felt that way about his pits and toes too, and his midsection… but this was different. Though Inosuke had been fighting against his bonds since the brushes first made contact, the tendons under the offended skin writhed like enraged snakes, his leg spasming involuntarily, like it was trying to ditch his body to escape.

In a way, it was somewhat more bearable than what she’d done to his midsection; in another, it seemed to push his “this should not be happening” button even more furiously.

“GEEEHEHET OHOHOHOOOOFF!!! GETOFFGETOFFGEHETOHOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFF!!! OHOHOHOHOHOHOFFF!!!” he demanded, the line between an order and a plea beginning to blur.

And the woman did comply, eventually.

Only to repeat the exact same process on his left leg.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! THIHIHIS IHIHIHSS NOHOOOT WHAHAHAHAT I MEHEHEHEHEHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-- LEHEHHET ME TAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

In spite of his considerable physical prowess, the ropes held him firmly in place, making sure he wouldn’t be able to avoid even a sliver of torture.

“BWAAAAAAWAWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!! YOUHU WIHIHIHIHTCH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!”

Having withstood it once already, Inosuke had some sort of sense of when all of the salt would be scrubbed off. Any moment now…

When she was satisfied, the woman began to scrub the inner part of both of Inosuke's thighs, an act that would have been immediately apparent to him as gratuitous and malicious if he hadn't been too busy laughing his head off.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH!!! GHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIHITS GOOOOOOHONE IHIHIT’S AAAAAHAHAHAHLLL GOHOHOHOHOHONE!!! HAHAHAHAAHHAHAHA!!!”

“I have to be thorough, the warrior must understand…” murmured the woman by way of explanation, which got drowned out by his mirth.

The first sensation that hit him when the brushes ceased their merciless attrition was a sense of rejuvenating coolness, and only a few moments later did he realize that he was no longer being tickled, the sensation on his inner thighs still feeling much too vivid.

“Uuuugh…” he panted. He’d insisted she kept going. Why had he insisted she kept going?

“The preparations are nearly complete,” declared the woman, taking three steps before kneeling down once again on the opposite side of the stocks. There was only one spot on his body that was still covered in salt.

"The warrior may state his preference."

He was really starting to hate the sound of her voice.

"I may treat his feet one at a time, which would be easier to withstand but would prolong the treatment," she began.

Inosuke cut her off. "Both," he grunted begrudgingly. He just wanted it over with as fast as possible.

"As the warrior wishes."

He wouldn’t laugh this time. He could take it. Yeah, he could take it.

She started scrubbing.

“NNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Oh, hell. It wasn’t the worst. Sure, the bristles ravaging his soles, scrubbing the salt into his skin, adjusting to the imperfections and wrinkles so as not to leave a single spec untouched, did fill him with the urge to get the f out or, lacking that, to produce more of the sound he’d come to despise, which would at least drown out the scrubbing noise he couldn’t help but perceive as a taunt.

“TCH!! KKKKHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH!”

At first, the occasional giggle only spilled out when the brushes reached his toes or the rare patch of uncalloused skin, resulting in a motley and unpredictable pattern of stimulation. It wasn’t easy, as each brush was constantly hitting multiple such spots at once, and he’d signed up for having two going at the same time, and he was starting to regret it.

“GGGGGGGGGGGGGNNNNNNNNNNNN!!! Eh! NNNNNNNNnnnnoooo! TCH! HeHE! NNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGHH!!!”

But as the woman kept on scrubbing, it became harder and harder to take. It wasn’t just his self-restraint eroding - the sensation was getting worse. With each pass, the salt and oil stripped more dead skin and callus from his soles, smoothing them, making them more tender, vulnerable, sensitive.

“PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT!!!! NNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Y-You caHAn’t!! I… I…!”

The scrubbing went on undeterred by his pitiful prohibition, uncovering soft, pink skin that hadn’t been buried by years of feral existence. Civilization was being brought to his soles, and oh, how it tickled.

“NnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHO!!! DAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHMN IHIHIHIHIHITTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHA!!!”

The woman hadn’t changed her approach in the slightest, repeating the same movements over and over, fully aware that her persistence would finally break the floodgates open.

“GHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

As if she’d been waiting precisely for that moment, the woman introduced some variety in her approach, alternating between scrubbing both feet and directing both brushes to assault them one at a time, one ravaging the toes and ball, the other the arch and heel, lavishing attention even on the sides.

That seemed to be even worse.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YEHEHEHER DOIHIHING IHIHIT OOOOHON PUHURPOOOOOHOHOSE!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“It cannot be too much for the warrior to bear, can it?” asked the woman, her tone flat but the inherent mockery plain to hear, though Inosuke was primarily experiencing it through touch.

Heel, arch, toes, ball, sides… the bristles were everywhere, scrubbing away his defenses.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! SSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHA!!! HAHAHAHAhahahahaha… HAHAHAHA hahahaha hahahahahahaha… hahaha…”

He hadn’t heard the freeing “plop” of the brushes as they were dropped into the basin, but the rush of cool air on his abused soles let him known that they were no longer in use. Perhaps he should have been wary of her, but after what he’d just endured, he was even grateful for the pressure of her palms, a gentle but firm massage tha rubbed the phantom sensations from his feet, her hands warm and rough sliding easily on the--

Rough? Not her hands, she was rubbing something coarse and grainy on his soles.

“I fear one more pass is required to extirpate the dread callus, lest it be shield and shelter to your weakness.”

She reached for the brushes again.

“No, shit, that’s enough!! That’s enooooooooouuuuahahahaahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!! NOOOOOHOHOT AGAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAAAIIHIHIHIHIHNNNNN HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

By the time she was done, Inosuke’s core had undergone a full workout, and his soles were unblemished as the day he was born, and just about as sensitive, every possible obstruction between the most pristine layer of skin and whatever cruel tool the woman planned to use, removed.

“For this last part, I will need the warrior’s cooperation.”

“NO!” shrieked Inosuke, huffing steam out of his nose. “I’ve had enough of whatever this is. You’re full of crap, and if you don’t let me go right now I’ll cut your head off!”

“Can’t the warrior withstand for five more minutes?”

“Shut your… Five minutes?”

The woman nodded.

 “In five minutes, you will be returned to your world. One ought not choose the ailment because the medicine is too bitter, but if the warrior has reached his limit…”

“Don’t put words into my mouth!” he barked, desperately trying to cling to a semblance of dignity.

The woman seemed unperturbed as she instructed, “Very well.Then we should make haste, lest this opportunity be squandered. I shall untie the warrior, and he shall turn around, kneeling on the bench, his feet hanging off the edge of the bench. I shall move the cushion accordingly. Then, his ankles shall be locked into the stocks and his wrists secured to the pole again.”

Inosuke tried to picture what she was describing. So he’d be kneeling with his ass up, and he’d have an even harder time keeping an eye on her?

His every instinct was telling him to refuse, that something smelled fishy, and besides, he’d be forced into such a humiliating position… but wouldn’t it be even more humiliating to chicken out now? Through all her fancy talk, that seemed to be what the woman was implying. She called him weak, but she didn’t act like she was stronger.

“Fine,” he grunted. For five minutes, he could handle anything.

She untied his hands first, and he immediately knocked her hands aside to worry at the knots binding his legs, but she loosened all of them before he could even undo one. Only when she unlocked the stocks did he proceed to rub the circulation back onto his wrists, as the woman massaged his legs to that same end.

Now that he was free, he really didn’t want to be tied up again.

“Five minutes,” she reminded him with a smile. He groaned but obeyed, kneeling with his shins flat against the cushion, which she’d pushed closer to the other end of the bench, and putting his feet through the stocks again. She then tied the ropes around his calves and secured his forearms to the pole. His chest was almost parallel to the bench, his back only slightly arched upward, and he was off-balance, the pole keeping him upright and the leg restraints preventing him from falling - or throwing himself - sideways.

He felt a lot more vulnerable and a whole lot more embarrassed than he’d anticipated.

“Hasn’t it been five minutes already?”

“Five minutes after we begin,” clarified the woman from somewhere behind his butt..

“So get on with it.”

“I shall. One last thing.”

He heard the sound of a string instrument being plucked, and an invisible pressure stretched his soles taut, pulling his toes towards the bench until there wasn’t a single wrinkle left on his feet. Only unblemished, defenseless, superhumanly sensitive skin at the mercy of a woman who had none.

“What did you do?”

She didn’t reply. As she approached him, he caught a glimpse of her left hand. She was wearing a fingerpick on the tip of each of her digits, and he wouldn’t have been more worried if she’d bared a set of monstrous claws.

“I shall start low and build to your greatest weakness,” the woman informed him from the bottom of the bench. He tried to see what she was up to from between his legs, but the robe and the stocks were in the way. He could almost feel her fingers hovering over his soles.

“What are you waiting fohohohohohOHOHOHOHOHORRRR!!! HOHOHOHOHO NOOOHOHOHOHOHO!!! IT’S SOOOHOHOH BAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHADDD!!!”

There was no buildup or warmup, but eight claws running from his heels to the very base of his toes, then back up again, taking note of how his laughter rose in pitch and the muscles twitched under the skin when certain spots were hit.

“The warrior appears to be struggling more than I anticipated,” declared the woman as she changed her method, scratching multiple times at each spot before continuing first down, then up his soles.

“Y-Youhuhu thihihink that hihHIHIHS!! Thahahahahat thihis wihihihilll--! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! L-LEHEHEHEHET MEEEEHEHEEHEH FIIHIHIHIHIHNIHIHHIHIHIHSSSSHHH!!!”

Inosuke felt naked. It wasn’t the state of relative undress, as he was arguably more clothed than usual. But from the way his feet were reacting, shocking him with jolts of ticklish electricity, he felt as if he had been stripped of a layer of protective pelt, leaving him to the hunter’s claws.

The woman’s methodical approach made it apparent to Inosuke and, almost simultaneously, to the woman herself, that the bottom of his arches close to the heel and the base of his toes were the most responsive areas, so she focused most of her attention there, making sure not to ignore the ball and arch as she alternated between those two spots.

His toes paralyzed by the invisible strings, the woman appeared to be particularly fond of scratching at the uppermost reaches of the ball, proceeding as if she was searching for something. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be the button that made Inosuke ballistic, as she seemed to be finding nothing but.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAAHA!!!! THIHIHS IHIS HOHORRIIIIBLEHEHEHEHEH!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Some part of Inosuke was probably aware of the passage of time, and he should have rejoiced that she was spending so much of it on his feet and not somewhere else. However, baffled by the intensity of the sensation, he could feel no relief. The woman plucked at the strings of his nerves and his lungs responded explosively. But no matter how beautiful, every piece has to end.

“Ah… This… thihis had to be… five minutes…” demanded Inosuke, even as he somehow felt his trials weren’t over.

“Correct. Five minutes precisely,” concurred the woman.

His ears perked up, and he hoped. “So we’re done?”

“Not quite,” said the woman with a smile.

“You said five minutes!!”

“Five minutes per area.”

“That’s not what you said before!! Let me go right now!!”

“I don’t doubt the warrior can withstand,” she claimed as the fingerpicks descended on the back of Inosuke’s thighs.

“SHIHIT, YOUHU SUHUHUHUHUCK!!! HAHAHAHAHAHhahahahahahahahaahhaahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! Hahahahahahahaha!!!”

He tried to leap forward and out of her reach, but the ropes around his calves and the stocks prevented his legs from moving, and the way his arms were tied to the pole made it impossible for him to block access to that sensitive area by sitting on the back of his legs.

It wasn’t the worst tickling Inosuke had been subjected to that day, but it was the most embarrassing, and his position wasn’t helping. Nor did the woman, as she allowed her fingers to wander inward towards an even more sensitive area of his thighs.

“HahahahahAH NAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!! AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIHI HHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHTE THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISSSS!!!! D-DOHOHON’T! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Those fingerpicks really did not belong on his thighs, and he wanted them off. But there was little he could do beside interspersing his laughter with tittering demands and pleas.

The pressure of the picks rippled out as if a much wider area was being touched, but it also dove deeper, awakening the tendons and muscles, sending jolts up and down Inosuke’s legs that resulted in a unique form of tickling that filled him with flighty energy he simply couldn’t let out.

But he found out he could get even worse when she began pinching. In his words, he yelped; in her words, he shrieked.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHK!!! SHHAHAHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHHATTT!!! DOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOHON’TTTTT!!!! FIIIIIIIHIHIHIHVE MIHIHIHIHNUUUUUTEEEESSSS!!! IHIHIHIT’S BEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHN FIIHIHIHIHIHIVE MIHHIHIHIHIHINUUUUUUTESSSS!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHHA!!!”

“It has not,” remarked the woman, using one hand to squeeze the hard muscle and the other to run her fingers on the sensitive skin. “Is this too much for the warrior? He hasn’t faced the worst of it yet. Would he rather I returned to his feet?”

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA STOHHOHOHOHP PIHIHIHIHINCHIHHIHIING!!! SHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAH!! YES! YEEHEHEHEHEHEHHSSSS!!!”

“This is confirmation that much weakness dwells in this area, but how could I go back, when the warrior was begging me so fervently to leave them alone?”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! SHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT UHHHUHUHUHUHUHUPPP!!”

“But as the warrior insists, I’ll be sure to treat his soles again once we are done.”

“DOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T YOUHU DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHREEEE!!!”

She went on clawing and pinching like she was playing a musical instrument, one whose strings were flesh and tendon and whose music was hysteria, for what felt much closer to 20 more minutes.

But he was given no reprieve as before he even realized the picks had left his thighs when they began to gently skitter along his flanks, his kneeling position making it incredibly easy for her to torment that spot.

“OOOOHOHOHOH!!! STOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAP IHIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHTTT!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

It was unacceptable. She was barely touching him, the picks making the lightest contact that his skin would register, so the intensity of the sensation was absolutely disproportionate. Like the feather from before, it triggered his enhanced sense of touch, straining it to the utmost as it tried to figure out what the hell was crawling up and down his body.

Inosuke was basically doing a strung-up worm in a futile attempt to escape the tickling. It was humiliating, but saving face was no consolation when her fingers converged on stomach.

“HAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! BREEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIH NEHEHEHED A BREEEAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAKKKK!!”

“There are no breaks allowed.”

A fresh batch of tears rolled down his nose and fell on the plank, his toned stomach proving no match for the soft assault. Every frenzied inhale pushed his belly into the fingerpicks, momentarily transforming the torment from one into a deeper, more burning sensation.

Turning the body that bore witness to Inosuke’s relentless training into a source of defeat was no small achievement on the woman’s part, yet there he was wishing that the gentle pressure would chip away his abdominal muscle if it would make it tickle any less. At the same time, he lamented the weakness of his sides, not shielded by muscle, a cognitive dissonance he lacked the ability to unpack there and then.

And when the fingertips finally reached his bottom ribs, he knew it was all over.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!!!”

She started pressing a bit harder, going slightly faster too, the picks making short work of his ribcage. Not being able to see her hands despite them being so close to his face made it even worse. He pulled at the ropes around his arms with all his strength, trying to break them, the pole, heck, even his own arms would do, anything to escape those horrendous claws.

“TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHAHAHAHAHAAHAHCCCH!!! IHIHT’S TOOHOHOHO MUUUUUUUHUHUHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAH!!!! NOOOOHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!”

He was done. He was so done. He’d withstood the unbearable long enough, he wasn’t going to put up with it any longer.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHNT IHIHIHIHIHAHHAAHAH CAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHH CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T!!!”

“I am certain the warrior doesn’t intend to admit defeat when he’s so cl--"

“STAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!!! YOUHU MUHUHHUST STAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHPPP!!! GIHHIHIIHIIHHIVVEEEEE!!! IHIH GIIIHIHIHIHIVEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHPPP!!”

Her fingers somehow got even faster as she gravely asked, “Does the warrior wish to surrender?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!!! YEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEAAAAASSSSSS!!! JUHUHUHHAHAHHAHAST STAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAPPP!!!”

But the claws didn’t leave his ribs.

“IIHAHAHAHAHAAH SAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAID EHEHEHEHENOAHAHAHAHAGH!!! I SURRAAHA-- NAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!!”

“What a shame,” she uttered, her voice dripping with disappointment as she finally stopped tickling him, but Inosuke was too busy panting to listen to her, content with letting the ropework hold him up.

For a moment, he thought he was going unconscious, but it wasn’t him: the sourceless light that lit up the entire onsen dimmed to the level of a small brazier, radiating from the center of the room outward so that Inosuke could see his own shadow and the woman’s on the wall from around the pole.

Inosuke didn’t like that. “We’re done here. Lehet me up.”

The woman’s shadow T-posed. "I'm afraid it's no longer your choice, little warrior."

Something pulled back her large sleeves all the way to her shoulders… Elbows. Two extra sets in each sleeve. Six arms.

The woman stood up to her full height, the hem of her dress lifting to reveal not human feet, but an extra set of hands. She lifted herself up in the air by pulling on invisible threads, the motions of her shadow calling to mind a spider crawling on a web toward its next victim, until she was hanging directly above him.

“You’re not human!! You tricked me!!” yelled Inosuke, redoubling his efforts to break free.

“Look who finally got smart,” mocked the woman, her voice much viler than before. “I’m not done with you, little warrior. Not by a long shot.”

He heard several clicks, and a droning like the sound of angry bees, which would have frightened him far less than the eight rotating brushes that descended on his body all at once.

His ribs. His sides, abs, thighs, and feet. All of them, ravaged by hundreds if not thousands of soft bristles spinning like it was their mission to murder him.

Inosuke opened his mouth to laugh, scream, shriek, but no sound came out.

“Oh? Is this too much for you? It tickles even more after a good scrub, doesn’t it? So much more. Remember that you were having trouble with a feather? A single feather? What about now? With your super touch, you must be feeling each and every bristle. How unbearable it must be for you.”

“......................................................................................AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

Foreign and unbearable, the sensation consumed him from the outside in. The brushes were large enough to cover his feet heels to toes as well as most of his abs, leaving hsi sides, thighs, and ribs no chance to escape them at all.

“GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! YOOOOOUUUUUU’RE KIIIIIIIIHIIHHIIHHIHIHIHLLLLIIIIIIIING MEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAH…………………………………………………………….HAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAH!!!”

He wheezed, coughed, struggled, would have pleaded. The woman whispered through his mop of blue hair. “Like I care. Shut up and laugh, dumbass.”

“.................................................EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHKKKKK!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“So much weakness in these parts, we gotta do something about it,” taunted the woman, the spinning brushes continuing to ravage Inosuke’s unblemished skin.

The last words Inosuke could make sense of before his mind melt into the lattice of ticklish overload were, “You’re going to be here for a long while, little warrior.”

—

When Tanjiro and Zenitsu found Inosuke, he was passed out on the rocky ground, wearing his usual clothes, his swords resting parallel to him. A huge, dopey grin lingered on his tear-streaked face.

“Is he ok?” worried Zenitsu.

“He’s fine. He’s just unconscious… what’s with that grin?”

“Nothing,” replied Zenitsu, looking first at the rictus etched on Inosuke’s face, then smirking at Tanjiro. “I’ve just had an idea for when he wakes up.”

[lushaletta]

hide with me / james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mild swearing, mentions of mental health/anxiety, reader has a panic attack

summary: poorly written drabble in which you have awful anxiety and a lovely james.

a/n: i feel like this feels unfinished i’m so sorry… i clearly lost steam by the end but i hope you all like it! i am such a sucker for some james

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

It feels like the world is caving in on you. The ceiling is about to fall down and crush you under its weight.

The voices of those around have all mixed and faded into each other into a jumble of noise. You don’t quite know what Lily is saying, not even sure what Marlene is doing; you can hardly see anything.

A laughable attempt at taking a breath has you panicking more and you stumble out of Alice’s living room and onto her front patio as hot, salty tears sting your face.

The reason as to why you’re suddenly in this state has you confused. One moment, you’re fine and the next, you’re in full breakdown mode.

Fresh air. That’s usually all you need. You let the scent of pine fill your lungs, grounding yourself on the railing. You’re fine, you try to repeat to yourself. You’re fine.

“Hey,” a voice calls out. You whip around and spot a head of dark curls and pretty hazel eyes.

Him. You don’t know whether you’re happy or sad about his presence. There’s a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and he looks gorgeous as ever.

You’ve liked James a long time. Much too long. He’s liked Lily for longer.

You’re sure he knows about your feelings, you’d done a poor job at keeping them secret, and you’d be surprised if at this point he was unaware.

Remus knows because you’d confided in him first. He was sweet about it, stroking your hair and whispering kind words in your ear. Sirius knows from the “powers of deduction”, as he likes to call it.

“Hi,” he says, putting the cig between his fingers, flicking the ash off.

“Hi,” you reply, a little breathless.

He walks over to you, assessing your state. “Are you alright?”

He’s always been awfully caring. It’s half the reason you like him more than what’s healthy.

James knows your ins and outs. Your family history, all your favourite movies, how many freckles you have. He’s committed every part of you to memory.

He treats you like you’re fragile, like a porcelain doll. As if you’d break when dropped.

Maybe it’s self-righteousness. Maybe he’s doing it out of pity. Though, in this moment, it feels anything but.

“Just fine,” you whisper, staring at him so deeply it’s embarrassing.

“You ran off.”

You laugh a humourless laugh. “Did I?”

James nods, looking like he’s inspecting you. It makes you feel a little self-conscious.

A smile creeps across your face. It’s really only to conceal the awkwardness. “What?”

“I think we’re past the point of pretending everything is alright when it isn’t,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The bluntness of his words makes you nervous. He’s not typically so forward.

“I was overwhelmed.”

His arms lace around your shoulders. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, let’s go, then,” he says, decidedly.

It’s a tempting offer. Being dragged away from all the noise and instead spending the night with James, but you don’t want to disrupt his evening with your feelings. He likes these people. He’s comfortable with them. He’s not like you, you say to yourself.

“No. I’m fine, James, really. Please don’t worry yourself.”

“I was kind of getting tired anyway. We can grab food and you can sleep at my place for the night, hm?” he insists, putting out his cig.

He’s doing it again. That thing where he’s just being so considerate and kind to the point that it bothers you.

“I..” you trail off, looking at the stars instead of his eyes. They’re both really beautiful.

“I’d like for you to come with me, sweetheart. Let’s get away. Just for a bit,” he tries again, gently tilting your face towards his.

You’re going to come with him. You were going to the first time he asked, no matter what, but you need to hear that he wants it.

You crack a smile. “Okay.”

Before midnight, you’re in his car. It’s a bit beaten up and the engine takes a couple of tries before it starts, but it’s a charming vehicle. He’s ordering fries for you, doing all the talking you’re so hesitant to.

There are muffled voices over the speaker. “Just a moment.” James turns to you. “Want a coke, baby?”

You nod, tapping your fingers on the window and fumbling with the button of your seatbelt.

He hands you a paper bag.

“Thank you, James. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead of with Lily at the gathering.”

His face contorts into a look of slight confusion as he grabs a fry from your hand. “Why would I want to be with Lily?” It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with Lily, it’s just that you could’ve asked about Sirius or Remus or even Frank.

“I mean, you like her, don’t you?” you say, voice quivering. Afraid of the answer.

“She’s a nice girl.” It’s not a no. You’re crushed. You nod your head like you’re unsurprised.

A forced smile makes its way onto your lips. “You two would look good together,” you say, hushed.

His brow quirks. “What? No.” It comes out a little sharp, and he immediately softens. “No, it’s not like that. Sorry.”

“Oh.” You hate yourself for it, but you feel your body immediately relax in relief.

Now he’s the uneasy one. His fingers are tapping on the steering wheel and he’s clearly purposely avoiding your gaze.

“Listen—“

“—I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “Sorry, you first.”

The car comes to a stop at some dark parking lot. James turns to face you. “What are you apologising for?”

Even you’re not too sure. It’s a mix of a few things; Lily, forcing him to stay with you, your anxiety, interrupting him, even. A general apology for your.. you-ness.

“All this. I just want you to be happy, James. I’m really sorry for always making you do this. Comfort me whenever I’m overwhelmed like that.”

He blinks. “I’m happy when I’m with you, sweetheart. Why don’t you understand that I enjoy doing this? I love when we escape from those dumb gatherings and do shit like this. I love it. I love you, damn it.”

Your heart drops. No, it stops. He had to be drunk. He was driving under the influence, surely. A crime. That’s a felony. Your head was absolutely spinning.

You don’t know what to do but stare blankly at him as his face asks you to just say something.

“What?”

“I love you! I don’t even know where you got that whole Lily thing. I love you! It’s always been you!”

Well, shit.

You lower your voice to a whisper. “So do something about it, Potter.”

And he does.