#so i guess the fic is in scarlet continuity i just wanted something that could rough them up good

[zarla-s]

Scene from that kaBLARRY fic I wrote where Larry and Kabu go down into Area Zero. Roaring Moon just wants to be friends! Honest!

[patreon]

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: "Looking at Something?"

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Astarion/M!Tav, elf/elf, paladin/rogue

POV: Tav(Rorik)

Themes: Aggressive flirting, praise kink (if you turn your head and squint), safe for work, mild angst, retconned Canon Dialog.

Warnings: trauma, manipulation, anger, neck wounds, alludes to distant past and recent abuse.

Author's Notes: First and foremost a disclaimer, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and smeagol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

Fic Summary: Astarion is looking for reassurance or praise or... Something, and then the writer remembered they used the intelligence as a dump stat to boost their Tav's charisma and rolled with it. Mentions a friend's character. I only barely proofread so consider this your warning.

Tagged at request: @ghostkingart

“Looking at something?” Astarion addressed Rorik when the paladin passed behind him and paused.

Rorik was tired, he'd stopped on his way back from a piss because something wasn't right. He’d been too beaten by the beasts of the underdark to process the scene before him for its absurdity. The vampire spawn was holding a hand mirror, scowling into it as if scorn might make his reflection appear in its smooth glitter.

The high elf angled the mirror in such a way that Rorik could see himself. Did he always look so serious? Yet disinterested? Rorik seldom sought his reflection, it wasn't a countenance he wanted to face.

“Just looking. What are you doing?”

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much” Astarion told Rorik almost softly, sadly. “Another quirk of my affliction.” he spat the last word as if it tasted rancid, eyes dark and lips cutting a sour pout.

Rorik had heard these sorrow-songs many times in his homeland and beyond. He was no stranger to this agony, but it never got easier to hear it, even from a spawn he hardly knew, harboring a strain of the cursed malady he was not so familiar with. It seemedthat no matter the variant, it affects one's reflection in glass treated with a paper thin veneer of silver.

Rorik played the fool, wrong as it felt to pretend he needed to ask questions in order to guess how Astarion might feel about not having seen himself in centuries.

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?!” He bordered on sounding offended, but his expression shifted with the same flippancy as his whims. Sometimes Rorik wondered if Astarion was making himself hard to read on purpose. Now, with a short but heavy pause, he went on with a longing about the droop of his shoulders and the way he looked at the other man, perhaps with jealousy. “Of course I do…”

He continued.

“I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.” And then, those scarlet eyes plunged back into darkness with his last syllables. His seething glare burned as hot as the Sun's love burned his vampiric skin in the day, before the illithid worm at least.

Rorik tried a question he'd heard many times before, sometimes even directed at himself. It might keep him talking. “What color were they before?”

“I... I don't know. I can't remember.” His glare softened with something that half revealed him, but the outraged anguish returned to him, as it tends to do. “My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost.”

Astarion threw down the mirror as he finished, it cracked as it struck the packed earth beneath them. If they were standing in a proper room of wooden or brick floor then the mirror would have shattered in a spectacular fashion.

Spiteing the fact that Astarion needn't air to live, he drew pants of heavy breath as he bared his teeth in his anger. He had every right to be angered, all spawn do.

Patience, Rorik reminded himself. As much as it went against his instincts to stick around within range of teeth while their owner bobbed between drowning in their own righteous fury and the oblivion of sorrow, there was always something about Astarion which lured him in. Rorik could still look at himself in a mirror, most of the time, and he thought maybe the reason he hadn't yet walked away from Astarion while he tantrumed about his past, present or Casador might just be because: he could see his reflection in Astarian, too. His pain felt all too familiar.

“What?” Astarian broke him from his thoughts.

Rorik corrected quickly, unsure what his own expression had revealed. He straightened a head that had tilted toward his left shoulder, fixed his eyes which he guessed had softened upon Astarian’s anger on base instinct. Too close. He'd almost fallen victim to his old habits, but Astarian was no flailing racer stallion who required the softness of a coddling stable pony to calm him. And Rorik was nobody's pony anymore.

“I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?” It was a cheap distraction, yes, but he found in it genuine empathy. Astarian couldn't see himself, hadn't seen himself in two-hundred years, he deserved the next best thing.

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.” Astarian replied with another reflection, this time of Rorik’s own sincerity.

The deferring tipping of Astarian's head told it all. A wound had been bared for Rorik to examine, one he could grind salt into and Astarian knew that. It was the scattered moments of vulnerability that helped Rorik stay, too.

He feigned a smile just in time, before his silence convinced Astarion that something was wrong. The others' brows were already creased as he braced to be hurt.

“Well, the shmutz of bullette viscera smeared on your left cheek has my attention right now.” Rorik jabbed casually.

Astarion scrubbed his wrist over his face with an irritable grimace, following Rorik's gesture to find the supposed smear of gore, only to find nothing because Rorik was having a little fun at his expense. Astarion was fastidious in his grooming. He’d missed nothing when he'd washed.

Rorik was rewarded with a glare, so he laughed, “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't jest… I'm not a poet, I'm not romantic by any stretch of the imagination, and I don't do flattery. So brace yourself.”

“Oh.. Kay…?” Astarion murmured.

Rorik straightened his posture to look Astarion from the toe of each tidy elvish crafted loafer up to the top most curl of his head of white silver. Consciously taking him in only topically.

“If I were unbiased and this were my first impression: Your face is long but not overly narrow. Your nose is very straight, cutting a tidy profile. I imagine you've never had it broken. The fairness of your skin hints at a noble upbringing; a childhood spent indoors rather than under the gaze of the noon sun. Your hands are clean and unmarred, so for certain you're not a laborer. You are clearly particular about how your hair is done every morning… Your jaw is angled sharply toward your chin but is neither too strong nor too weak. It suits you well. Your lips are full which reinforces an air of youth about you, and your upper lip is just a bit thicker than the lower without being distracting… About five foot and eleven inches, shoulders broad enough to mandate care toward them when having garments tailored… In all, The world sees a young elf.”

Rorik bit the end of his tongue as he finished, holding back the last and decidedly biased thought: that he saw all these things too but accompanied by eyes which looked as tired as he often felt himself.

Astarion's expression was empty yet soft, gaze drifting into the middle distance until the very end when his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted as if something had curdled in it.

“Eugh! Must you always make everything sound so clinical!? You told Edmund this morning the cactus where your heart should be has beautiful flowers and that was backhanded!” Astarion mocked Rorik's northerner accent, badly, “I know you can do better than that. Ugh, for shits’ sake, why do you find me attractive? Why does anyone find me attractive, Rorik?”

That took Rorik off guard. This wasn't just about forgetting one's own appearance, was it? It was about Astarion understanding how the world was affected by his body being in it. Rorik shifted in discomfort, now put on the spot to summarize the things he personally found alluring. He felt almost dirty saying it.

“I- suppose people can't help themselves but to admire? You're striking. Perfectly styled snow hair, you're well formed… Em, lovely skin? like opal? White opal. Were you true symmetrical I would've drawn my sword, having mistook you for a stone wit-”

“I- I'm not symmetric?? Where is my face uneven!? Tell me this instant!” The high elf squawked, hands smoothing up the planes and dips of his visage in search.

Rorik snorted. Astarion seemed like the type to become offended at the mention of a slightly uneven cupid’s bow. Best not add to his self image anxieties too much. A true lie would have to do.

“You have a freckle or two, perhaps from your recent love affair with the sun.”

“Freckles?!”

“Oh, relax. Not near as many as me.” Rorik reassured.

“Hmph. That was… Better-ish, I suppose. You're onto something, keep going.”

Rorik's expression pinched with realization. “Is that all you're after? Shallow praise?”

“Hardly! I'm also after gold, sex, revenge. Quite the list, really, and failing any of those I will always settle for: shallow praise.”

“Fuck that noise. I can do better than patting your ass with a couple cheap compliments.”

“Care to expand on that? I can't tell if I'm being derided or offered an upgrade from your awkward small talk.” Astarion harrumphed and began picking under his fingernails, apparently checking out of the conversation in a display of boredom.

Rorik stepped closer to recapture his attention, spurred forward by a volatile cocktail of embarrassment, ego, and vindictiveness that had spilled in close proximity to the competitive streak within him.

“I used to be good at this. I swear. You'll just have to be patient while I call it back to me.” Rorik leveled in a low rumble, and it was no bluff. Idle worship of a bloated ego had saved his skin in his youth more times than he could count. This bordered too close to an exhumation of the corpse of his past, but if the occasion calls for it in the name of harmless fun: then let old habits lumber about like a fucking zombie.

Astarion's eyes lit themselves with dark amusement, leaning in too with a smug sneer, “Call louder. I think it ran straight past you.”

Rorik wasted no breath on the others' taunting. He delivered. “Your eyes are extraordinary, they burn through people like a branding iron. I'd rather face a devil I’d sleighted.”

Astarion let loose the bark and giggle of laughter which used to grate on Rorik's nerves, “Oh, not bad… and you said you don't do flattery! Do go on.”

That's one point to Rorik. He wanted more than that. He wanted to win whatever this was. “They have their moments of immeasurably inviting softness, too. Eyes like yours tend to get their way with me, if I'm being honest… And don't let that go to your head.”

“Ha! Hard not to. That's a dangerous admission.” Astarion swayed his shoulders and hummed with an odd, rich texture in his voice. His expression was guarded, however.

“Awareness of one's weaknesses is healthy, I'm told..” Rorik commented rather pointlessly. Choosing pretty analogies for the features of a face he found attractive felt more risky than it should. Rorik's jaw and throat felt hot for no particular reason. “Moving on. Your smile is deadly. Like a bear trap lined with sweet meats and candied fruit. A pout, a grin, a laugh, they all draw me closer…”

Closer. Astarion must've taken the utterance of the word as an invitation. He brandished that smile like a blade now and brought them near nose to nose. “Yes, yes. You're right. But we know better, don't we, Rorik?”

Not fair. Rorik’s naked skull felt like it was on fire, and the feeling was not limited to neck and up.

“We do. You can't lure bats with candy in pretty wrappers.” he tilted his head with his words, ever so minutely, exposing the angry punctures in his throat.

“If it isn't the sweet taste that draws you in, then what is it? Tell me Acolyte.”

Rorik shook his head. “You know I'm a masochist. You know the answer to that.”

“Aw, Little Treat longs to be trapped? How delightfully demented.”

“Mm,” Rorik offered a solemn nod. It was another admission of those dirty weaknesses. “Last thing for now-”

“For now?” Astarion crooned, grinning wickedly as he underlined Rorik's implication that he may have more to say on this particular topic at a later date.

“For now,” Rorik confirmed but teased… Teasing? He'd never teased like this, in this context, before. Best end on a note of humor, “Speaking of teeth, you've the most polite little feedin’ fangs.”

“...What?” Astarion straightened then and leaned away.

Rorik must've thrown him off his rhythm with that one. Right. Astarion was from a small coven, and apparently not one which enjoyed the bleak humors of the condition.

Rorik leaned minutely closer and bared his razors in a grimace with a finger directing attention to them. “I'm saying, your teeth look almost normal. At least compared to these lawn shears I was saddled with. Your smile is still sharp, but passable. Many with the condition aren't so lucky.”

“Good to know I'm not a complete freak.” Astarion harrumphed.

“Maybe I crossed the line. I forget, not everyone reconciles it all so easily.” Rorik admitted, but refused to backpedal that last opinion.

“I suppose I can give you a pass on it, given that you were born with… All of that.” Astarion gave a waving finger gesturing to all of Rorik as he half-accepted the half-apology.

Rorik couldn't help but chuckle and look away, the imagery brought to mind was too heinous and ridiculous all at once. “Well, I was indistinguishable from the living until I consumed blood at fifteen-ish but, sure. I wasn't bottle fed monk blood as a tot. Couldn't imagine that horror.”

"Normal children are horrible enough… Now, why don't you just tell me I'm beautiful and we'll call it an evening.” Astarion shifted the topic smartly, but looked away for a moment too.

The dance was strange. Rorik wasn't sure what they were doing, but he sort of liked it.

“You're alright, Gale is more my type.” Rorik lied, blatantly.

“How dare you!” Astarion's tone was playful, rather than offended, although it's always hard to tell with Astarion, “I thought we had something special… Still, you're nice too. I’d better get some beauty sleep. It seems I need it if I'm to catch up with the competition.”

Rorik could only shake his head. Everyone has a type. Astarion's was apparently fractured faces and a malignant glare. Rainar's glare. Rorik quickly tossed aside the errant thought and the accompanying cruel memory. He dipped his head before deciding to attend his own sleep.

“Sure sure, but do tread with caution. The pursuit of perfection is perilous, and you're already knocking on the door.” Rorik offered with a smirk. This game was… fun.

“Hhmf! Says he's not romantic,” Astarion mocked talking to himself, shooting a dark glance and that dangerous smile over his shoulder as Rorik retreated to his bedroll by the fire.

[bots-and-cons]

I've noticed people had invested in your story of your scarlet witch reader story so am i, but i understand if you don't want to write this anymore if that makes u uncomfortable then i'm sorry and i understand. But here's my request :

I want to ask for a request one-shot for Scarlet Witch Reader with Wheeljack to have a moment together before Redear's "death", like Jackie noticed her depressed moment one time, alone, away from the bots and wanted to talk to her if Reader needs some comfort but all the Raeder had said :

"I'm sorry...i know you're trying....I'm just so tired ..." Reader mumured, voice cracking, finally gives in. "And every single time I thought it was over I’d arrogantly sit right here, thinking I will suddenly be healed and ready to move on, being accepting again. Little did I know that the wave would keep crashing---knocking me right back down again. A continuous wave I can’t escape from. And eventually, it’s just going to drown me."

Since Wheeljack is the only one bot who didn't resent the Reader or didn't treat her like a monster, how will Wheeljack react to Reader's confession? Will he comfort her? Giving an advice or at least a hug? Will that moment haunt him after her "gone"?

Oh yeah, people seemed really interested in that one. I don’t mind writing more fic stuff for it, it's just that I got a bit tired of answering all the questions about it. I don't even remember everything I said, so this might not go according to what I wrote before. Since I didn’t tag them with anything special, I can't be bothered to look for them either, so here I go with my ramblings again. I wanted to do a scenario, which is why I left this as the last request. The first part to this, or I guess what would come after this can be found here. Just a little disclaimer, the last time I watched TFP was in 2019 so I barely have any memory of Jackie’s character because I write him so rarely. I apologize if this is severely OOC

You’d made your decision, you would disappear. When and how though? You weren’t sure but you would take your chance when you saw it. You packed a bag and hid it in the locker at a nearby bus terminal. You could get to it after you got away from the autobots so you would have something to start with.

On one of your final days with the autobots, you were just wandering around the base aimlessly. You weren’t sure what you were even doing there anymore. Sure the autobots were trying to keep you safe from the decepticons, but you could do that by yourself too. You were strong enough to do that.

For about the last half a year, things had been getting progressively worse. It started almost immediately after the autobots took you under their protection. You were helping them fight some of the decepticons and a boulder you threw hit the wrong target. You hit Bulkhead in the back making him fall down. He almost got his helm crushed in by Breakdown in the process, but managed to avoid the hammer strike at the last second. That’s when it started. The judgemental looks and hushed whispers.

You thought they would be different, that the autobots would understand because they too were different, but you were wrong. You thought they wouldn’t try to chain you down and make you keep your powers hidden, but they did. Ratchet was especially skeptical about your ability to control your powers, and as the little mistakes started piling up, the skepticism spread.

Aside from the incident with Bulkhead, nothing serious happened again, but all the little mistakes and accidents were interpreted as malicious on your part.

“Hey (Name)!” Wheeljack exclaimed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?” you turned around to face him.

Wheeljack had noticed you were getting progressively more tired and anxious during the last few weeks. He had noticed the others treating you in a way that was in his opinion quite unfair. Jackie hadn’t exactly vocally protested against Arcee or Ratchet’s comments, but he hadn’t agreed with them either.

“Ya doin okay?” he asked.

“I’ve seen better days” you joked halfheartedly.

“Come with me” Jackie said, turning to walk back down the hall.

“Where are you taking me exactly?”

“I just thought we could talk without someone eavesdroppin on us” he shrugged, heading for the elevator. “Besides, ya need to get out of this place sometimes”

You followed him, not really saying anything as you took the elevator up to the top. It wasn’t very cold outside yet, so you could easily stay up there for a while without a jacket. You sat down on a rock as you looked at the sunset. If you were lucky, this would be one of your last nights at the base. It was a bit of a pity to lose such a great sunset watching spot though. You sat there for a while, not saying anything, just looking at the horizon.

“So, what’s going on with ya lately? You seem pretty down nowadays”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying, you’re probably the only who gives a damn about me anymore anyway” you muttered.

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Jackie said, not really sure if he was lying or not.

“I thought I could find a place here with you guys. A place where I wouldn’t be shunned, but apparently that’s not the case. I thought I could heal here, to finally find some sort of kinship with someone who understands what it’s like to be different, to be unfairly feared by others, but I just keep getting knocked down, continuously…” you vented, not sure why you were suddenly opening up to him like this.

You and Wheeljack weren’t even particularly close, but he was the only one who had never really held your powers against you like the others had. Even though he didn’t defend you against the other bots, not that they ever said what they thought to your face anyway, he never looked at you judgmentally.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I let it all out like that” you sighed.

That was the last talk Wheeljack had with you. He never really believed you had died after you disappeared, but he never went looking for you. Based on what you’d said before you disappeared, if you were still out there, you were probably happier without the autobots, and that’s all he could ask for.

Still, he felt like he should’ve done more. He should’ve at least said something but he didn’t know how to answer you. He didn’t know how to comfort you, or it was even his place to do so. Now it was too late, you were gone, and dead or not he wouldn’t get a second chance, but maybe it was better that way.

[tanjir0se]

Rengiyuu Wednesday Special Feature!

One of my fav scenes from a fluffy first date Rengiyuu fic I'm working on!! (based off of this post and also kind of this post)

Kyojuro meant to ask Giyuu out, panicked, and asked him to dinner to meet Senjuro instead. Now, just before their not-date date, he tries to figure out how to say what it is he really wants to say to Giyuu, with help from a certified Love expert...

Rengoku was preparing for the evening by pacing the gardens with his hands behind his back, rehearsing his lines under his breath. Nothing sounded right. I love you felt too strong, even if it was true. Was it true? I like you was too easily misinterpreted. Hopefully Giyuu already knew he liked him. How could he not like him? He sighed and turned back around the other direction, watching the gravel pass beneath his feet. 

He was so focused he didn’t realize someone had stepped into his pacing path until he’d run headlong into them. Reflexively he shot his hand out and ended up catching his victim, Mitsuri, by the elbow to keep her from falling.

“Ah!” She exclaimed, her face already flushed scarlet. “Kyojuro-Senpai! Forgive me, I must not have been watching where I was going!” 

“No, no! It was me who was not watching where I was going!” Rengoku exclaimed back. “Pardon me!”

She sidled up to him, which he didn’t mind. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “What are you up to today?” She asked brightly. “The cherry blossoms sure are beautiful this afternoon!”

“Yes! They are lovely!” Rengoku agreed loudly, falling into step with her. After a beat of silence, Mitsuri abruptly stopped, holding out her arm to stop Rengoku as well. He held his mouth open stupidly, surprised at her sudden movement. He didn’t have time to question her before she turned to face him with a bright, excited smile and grabbed him by the collar of the haori. 

“You have a date tonight, don’t you?!” She screamed at him, voice raising higher and higher by the moment. He gasped and went red. “You do!” She cried. 

He leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists, trying to remove her from his haori. “What makes you say that?” He’d lowered his voice and hoped she’d do the same, but her excitement was too great. Also his version of a “lowered voice” was still louder than most people’s speaking volume. 

“Are you kidding?” She giggled. “It’s written all over your face!” Mitsuri gasped and released him, clasping her hands together beneath her chin. “Who is it with?” He opened his mouth and she grabbed him again, interrupting him. “Wait! Don’t tell me! Let me guess…” 

He flushed scarlet and chuckled at himself. Of course Mitsuri would be able to tell immediately what he had planned. It was like she could smell it on him, some disturbance in his aura that betrayed his feelings. She snapped her fingers. 

“It’s Tomioka, isn’t it!” He hunched down and put a finger to his lips to shush her, which only proved her hypothesis and elicited an excited squeal. “I knew it! I knew it! Oh, you have to tell me everything!”

“I assure you there’s nothing to tell!” Rengoku insisted. “Not yet anyway…”

“What are you going to do? Where will you go?” She was practically jumping up and down. “Ah!” She screamed aloud then, making Rengoku flinch. From across the garden he could see that Sanemi and Iguro had paused their training to watch them curiously. “The cherry blossoms are so beautiful, how romantic!” She’d grabbed him by the upper arm, squeezing so tightly Kyojuro had to bite back a surprised and pained yelp. Sometimes Mitsuri didn’t quite realize her own strength. 

“Mitsuri!” 

Steam was practically coming out of her ears. “Aah! It’s like something out of a romance novel! I can hardly stand it!” 

He gently took her by the wrist again and tried to shush her, pulling her along with him to a more secluded area of the gardens. “Listen, I actually could use your help.” She gasped and put both hands on her cheeks, but he continued before she could start screaming again. 

“I meant to tell him that I—well. Tell him how I feel about him.” Her massive braids bobbed up and down as she nodded excitedly. “But instead I just ended up inviting him to dinner to meet my brother. Now I’m not sure how to bring it up again, or what to say.” They came to a small creek and stopped on the wooden bridge, watching cherry blossoms fall into the slow moving water. He leaned against the wooden railing and she put her elbows against it too, sensing his change in mood. His face was flushed and focused. 

“Hmm.” She nodded slowly in apparent agreement. “I can see how that could be difficult.” Mitsuri put a hand against her chin and tapped her rosy lips. “But you have a big advantage.” She grinned then, and Kyojuro turned to look at her. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes!” She grabbed him by the arm again, mercifully gentler this time. “He already likes you!” 

Kyojuro could have fallen off the bridge. “He does? How on Earth can you tell?” 

The Love Hashira gave him a look before giggling again. “A woman has her ways, you know!” Kyojuro laughed with her, nervous and joyous and disbelieving all at once. Mitsuri continued. “Now, what I would do, is think about what you would want him to say to you!”

He hummed and gripped the railing of the bridge. He couldn’t really imagine Giyuu saying anything like what he wanted to say. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, Giyuu might slide a little closer to him, so their shoulders and knees were brushing. Perhaps he would even allow him to take his hand. Kyojuro realized abruptly that he wasn’t breathing, considering the idea that Giyuu might lean ever so slightly forward, allow Kyojuro to take his face in both hands—

Mitsuri elbowed him hard in the ribs and brought him back to reality. He let out a quick, sharp sigh as he remembered himself, and grinned at Mitsuri, who was scarlet red merely from association. “I see you’ve already decided what to say!” She said in delight.  And that was it, Rengoku thought. It wasn’t what he needed to say. Giyuu was never that kind of person anyway. He spoke through silence, in little tilts of his head or a nearly imperceptible upward lift of his brow. Nothing he could say would feel right, this was something he needed to do instead. Now he just needed to do it.

[idyllic-affections]

hey I really liked your angle kisses with kaveh. can I request an angsty fic with kaveh where the reader has difficulty accepting affection cause they've never had it before and think it's mocking and condescending instead?

may my guard never drop, for should my heart be allowed to breathe, i fear i may cause you harm.

summary. vulnerability is difficult. trigger & content warnings. none applicable. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. soft angst. kaveh x reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. FIRST ANON LETS GO!!!! hi lovely, im so glad you liked angel kisses. i hope you'll like this one too <3 it is short, but it actually ended up being a little longer than i anticipated. on a different note, idk why but i title some of my works as if i was a brooding poet LMAO

       Kaveh was an affectionate man.

       Anyone who knew him could say such a thing with confidence; he was passionate about everything he did, and naturally, that included expressing his affection towards his loved ones. In fact, it seemed that he became even more impassioned when it came to that. Unlike most Akademiya graduates, Kaveh was driven largely by emotion rather than logic, and his emotions were very plentiful. That fact was no secret.

       As such, it would come as no surprise that the architect was fluent in virtually every love language.

       Was someone he cared for dreading doing a particular tedious chore? Oh, no worries—he'd already taken care of it before they could get too stressed over it; stress isn't good for the body nor the mind, after all. Did they want to go somewhere in particular? He would be glad to accompany them, especially if they felt unsafe going alone. Was a friend of his from the Akademiya feeling insecure about a rejected thesis? He'd sing their praises for hours on end, taking the opportunity to both support his friend and outwardly oppose the Sages and their close-minded interpretation of wisdom.

       Kaveh was a lover with a heart too big for his chest to contain, and to some, a fool.

       However, a fool wouldn't see the things he did. Yes, perhaps once in a while, he'd be blindsighted by his boundless ardor, but he was not blind to discomfort—he was not blind when it came to harming others. It was something he tried to avoid as much as he possibly could. He was not blind to the way [Name] would avoid his touches oh-so diligently, how the contact seemed to agitate them. He noticed. He saw. He was no fool. Still...

       He hated not being able to understand why. For a self-proclaimed empath, he was having a terribly difficult time figuring it out.

       "Do you not like when I touch you?"

       Archons above, he looked like a kicked puppy, scarlet eyes wide and expression borderline pouty. Expressive and passionate he certainly was. They grimaced, turning back to the fruit stall in front of them and picking out the sunsettias they deemed to be of the best quality. Firm fruit was generally of higher quality than soft fruit.

       "It's... not that, Kaveh."

       He wordlessly waited for them to continue, reaching out to squeeze their hand in what would have been a reassuring manner, only for them to draw their arm away from him.

       A pained look flashed briefly across his features.

       "...I just find it condescending. It's not you."

       "Why? Who made you feel that way?"

       "I don't know, okay?" A deep sigh left through their nose. "I know you don't mean it like that, but old habits die hard, I guess. It's like... It makes me feel like I'm being treated like a child who can't handle themselves, being coddled and pampered... I don't like it."

       Vulnerability was a difficult thing. To be truly, earnestly open and honest with someone... the thought alone made their throat tighten uncomfortably, stomach twisting at the simple thought. Many scholars did not openly embrace vulnerability, deeming it to be a "hinderance to the pursuit of wisdom"; they were hardly any different, only they encouraged it in others while refusing to embrace it themselves. However, hypocrisy was unbecoming of an intelligent person. They couldn't be bothered to care.

       The act of being vulnerable did not come to them easily.

       Responding with aggression, however, did. It had happened more than once with other people who were a bit too pushy. They knew very well that Kaveh didn't deserve that, though.

       "[Name]—"

       "Can we talk about this later?" they murmured, gnawing on the corner of their lip. "I'm not in a good enough place to talk about this right now. You're sensitive, Kaveh. I don't want to hurt you."

       Without waiting for a response, they quickly turned on their heel, the intention of fruit shopping being long forgotten as they darted towards one of the ways out of the Grand Bazaar.

       The architect only watched motionlessly in uncharacteristic silence as they left, the sting of rejection searing his skin.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[warnerswilsons]

Whoo! Another Whumptober Fic!!!

Content Warnings: Blood, Broken Bones, Mentions of Nausea, Body Swapping

Also vampire Schmitty is back because angst

Alt Prompt: Body Swap

It was a miracle that people were still able to play games during this storm. And a death wish for those actually hosting them to come to work. Still, somehow, everyone had clocked in and 90% of the booths were filled. The funny thing was that it wasn’t even mandatory for anyone to show up that day! It’s just that way too many of these hosts had the balls to brave this indescribable hellstorm. Well, that and sometimes it seemed like some people just never left the studio. Still, it was pretty ballsy to try and even use the recording and game technology during these conditions.

Schmitty didn’t seem to mind. He just had his mic, dark soundproof booth, and a fully stocked minifridge, and he wouldn’t let this storm get in the way of some hopefully high quality quips. After all, if they could play it, he could host it. He let this rare nice moment sink in as he went to turn his mic back on to finish off the game. Surely nothing could ruin this day.

And then the lights went out.

Schmitty barely had time to register the power outage, as his hand had just barely brushed the on switch. In an instant, he felt a shock rush through his finger tips.

“Ow! What the fuck?!” The Quiplash host stopped for a moment, noticing something off about his voice. It was almost like it was rising in pitch ever so slightly as he was speaking. He really hoped it was just the anxiety from the past fifteen or so seconds, and nothing else. Almost immediately, the lights went back on, and based on the fact that he was now stopped in the hall, Schmitty could tell straight away that whatever had just happened with his voice was most definitely not anxiety. While his voice had already given him a clue as to whose body he’d ended up in, the red and pink striped blazer clinging to his arms was a dead giveaway itself.

“Don’t know why I expected anything else.” Schmitty fought the urge to break something in that moment. He had to find Cookie before he did something to fuck up the end of the game. And, you know, succumb to vampiric hunger. Okay, maybe that would be worse, but still. Quiplash was his game! Almost immediately, he picked up speed, trying his best to figure out which hall he was in and how far it was from the recording booth. He barely moved an inch before almost bumping into some poor, confused intern. The Quiplash host moved back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, Mr. Masterson! I’m so-”

“Take another guess, kid.” 

“I’m sorry?”

Schmitty took a breath. He wanted to scream oh, so much, but it wasn’t the intern’s fault that he didn’t seem to immediately recognize a body swap. Instead, the host tried his best to keep his cool and move on.

“Just forget it.” He tried to continue walking, lightly pushing past the intern. Sadly, the poor, unsuspecting kid just had to keep talking.

“But you said-”

“I know what I fucking said, and now I’m begging you to just drop it!” Without thinking about it much, Schmitty very quickly felt his fist collide with the wall. And then he felt something break. “God fucking damn it.” He should’ve figured Cookie’s body wouldn’t have the same durability that his did.

“Oh god, your hand!” The intern quickly began backing away. Schmitty honestly felt bad for the kid. He had just kinda walked into this whole mess. “I’ll go get a med kit! And bandages! Wait! Those would be in the kit, wouldn’t they?”

“Hey, don’t worry about-! Ugh, never mind.” Schmitty sighed and leaned on the wall as the intern disappeared down the corner. He examined his now broken hand, noticing the increasing trail of blood coming from his knuckles. He quickly tried to wipe it away with his sleeve. Blood red would probably blend in good enough with scarlet, right? Even he knew that would only go so far. There was still the process of actually nursing the wound. And hiding the scent of the blood.

“Ooooooooh shit.” Schmitty’s eyes widened as he made a run for the break room. Schmitty may have built up enough willpower against the smell of blood, but Cookie was in his body right now, and there was no way that he knew just how much willpower was needed. Schmitty knew that he couldn’t afford to get either of them hurt. Cookie would totally understand why Schmitty didn’t go to him to sort this out first. He had to.

Eventually, Schmitty did make it to the breakroom, and tried his best to follow the plan of scoping out whatever first aid materials he could find. He wasn’t expecting to walk into total chaos. Well, not to a higher degree than usual. There was so much screaming coming from so many directions, the Quiplash host had no idea where to start. He didn’t even need to figure it out because the last possible person he wanted to see at that moment was bounding up to him.

“Cookie! Thank god! You’ve gotta help me!”

“Old man?!” Schmitty backed away, a look of disgust obvious on his features. “The fuck are you doing here?!”

“No! I’m in his body! And he’s obviously in mine!” Cue a pause from not-Old Man. “I’ve gotta find my body!”

“I’m very afraid to ask, but who are you?” The Quiplash host didn’t dare get closer. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now, even if this meant that the body swap had affected more than just him and Cookie. He had his own problems to deal with!

“It’s me! [REDACTED]! Can’t you tell?” 

“Why couldn’t I just have had to worry about the storm today?” Once again, Schmitty had to keep himself from doing anything especially destructive. “And while we’re on the subject, I’m not Cookie, I’m Schmitty, and I was kinda in the middle of something!”

“Schmitty?! That’s you?!” [REDACTED] let out a quick laugh. Schmittty tried so hard to move away. “Oh my god! This is such a throwback!” The Quiplash host shuddered, remembering the last time he and the serial killer had been involved in a body swap.

“Yeah. A nauseating one.” Schmitty would’ve crossed his arms if his right hand wasn’t in excruciating pain. “Can’t you just find Old Man on your own? I’ve kinda got an injury to deal with.”

“No, you don’t understand! If he’s in my body, there’s nothing stopping him from taking off my mask! I can’t have him knowing who I am!” Schmitty didn’t reply immediately, processing what his co-worker had just told him.

“You know what? That’s very fair.” The Quiplash host nodded, taking note of [REDACTED]’s hopeful gasp. “Well, you better find him quickly then!”

“Hey! I thought you were gonna-” That was all Schmitty heard as he rushed away from the serial killer. [REDACTED] would be fine on his own! 

Eventually, Schmitty did come to the realization that somehow every game show host in the studio had swapped bodies with another. It hadn’t even been a minute before ‘Rue’ fell over in front of him, before proceeding to scream “HOW DO I LEGS?” Yep. That was definitely M. Bubz. The Quiplash host quickly helped them up with his good hand, nonchalantly brushing off their profuse apologies, and continued to look for the first aid kit. The sight when he stepped into the kitchen immediately made him stop in his tracks. 

“Cookie? What the fuck are you doing?” The Quiplash host didn’t even need to wait for an answer. Almost immediately, he heard chewing sounds coming from his boyfriend. He reluctantly stepped forward as the Fakin’ It host turned to him, a really filled, messy sandwich both in his hands and puffing out his cheeks. “Great. First you steal my body, and then my sandwich. What are you gonna do next?”

“I’m just really hungry!” Cookie replied almost immediately. “Seriously, nothing has been able to ease it since this swap happened! It didn’t help that I picked up on this really nice smell!” The Fibbage host let out a quiet sigh upon mentioning the scent.

“Well, that sandwich isn’t gonna do anything for you except taste nice and go down. Remember? The whole vampire thing?” Cookie nodded, taking another bite of the sandwich. “And that smell earlier? Well, that would be the blood coming from my-well, technically your-currently broken hand! Mind if we talk about that later?” Schmitty noticed his boyfriend’s gaze shift to his hand. Of course coming in here would’ve made the smell stronger. 

The Fibbage host’s eyes narrowed as he slowly moved towards Schmitty, reaching out his hands. The Quiplash host moved his right hand behind his back. Just in time to bump right into the wall. He quickly moved a few inches to the side, pushing the door open as he tried not to wince in agony. He could hear Cookie hiss as he got closer. This had to have been Schmitty’s worst nightmare, and the most twisted thing about it is that he was on the other side of it. 

As Schmitty broke into a run, he heard the sound of breaking wood. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Cookie just ran through the door. The hunger can really do that to a guy. Well, at least his body would be fine. 

The Quiplash host felt his body begin to slow down and his breathing begin to pick up much quicker than anticipated. He still wasn’t used to the amount of endurance Cookie’s body had. It made him begin to miss his own. Although he really didn’t want to, Schmitty knew he had no choice but to take a brief rest in the hallway. Unfortunately, that rest happened to get cut short when he heard quick, approaching footsteps getting louder and louder. Before he knew it, there was Cookie, wide-eyed and heavily breathing. He kept his eyes locked on Schmitty’s right hand, getting closer to the other as if he was stalking prey.

“Cookie, you don’t have to do this! We can just go back to my soundbooth! I’ve got a whole stash right-OKAY MAYBE YOU DO!” Schmitty quickly brought up his arms as Cookie slashed at him. The Fakin’ It host just barely managed to rip the left blazer sleeve. Suddenly, he got quieter, his gaze shifting to the sleeve, aggressively sniffing it. Schmitty looked at it confused, before noticing the darker patch near the end.

“Of course!” Schmitty hesitantly removed the blazer. He really didn’t want to destroy one of Cookie’s most prized possessions, but after all, linen was far easier to fix than a hand. He closed his eyes as he squeezed the jacket in his hand and tossed it out towards the other, quietly murmuring “I’m sorry.”

Somehow Cookie managed to catch the blazer in mid-air, and went at it like a feral raccoon. Schmitty cautiously opened his eyes, watching his boyfriend grasp the sleeve of the blazer within his hands, and absorb the stains through his fingers. Almost immediately, Cookie’s expression softened, and he blinked his eyes rapidly.

“Cookie?” The Quiplash host reluctantly took a few steps towards his boyfriend. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think so. Holy shit.” Cookie squeezed his eyes shut, before looking up at his partner. “Did I really try to attack you?”

“It’s no big deal.” Schmitty shrugged, waving his left hand in the air. “Besides, You wouldn’t have if I hadn’t punched the wall earlier, so, I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who caused-” Cookie gestured back and forth between himself and his partner, “-well all of this.”

“But your coat-”

“I can just fix it!” Cookie looked at the torn jacket in his grasp before shifting his gaze to Schmitty’s broken hand. “You’ve gotta get that thing patched up!”

“Well, you’ve gotta get something else to eat! I don’t know how long whatever I got on that sleeve is gonna hold you.”

“Honestly a good point.” Cookie shrugged, conceding to Schmitty’s point unexpectedly quickly.

“Well, I’ve gotta whole stash of blood in my soundbooth.” The Quiplash host beckoned for Cookie to follow him, waiting a couple seconds before beginning to move himself.”

“You do?”

“Yeah! What did you think the fridge was for?” Schmitty playfully raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his boyfriend.

“Must’ve slipped my mind in all of the chaos.”

“Honestly, pretty reasonable.” Schmitty held out his arm for Cookie to grab. “Well, shall we?” 

“Sure.” The Fibbage host smirked, linking his arm in his partner’s “But only if we grab some first aid shit first. I want my hand to be healing properly when we swap back.”

“Also a fair request.” Schmitty let out a quiet chuckle as the two of them began to walk down the hall. “Oh jeez, I hope that poor kid isn’t going on a wild goose chase trying to give me the first aid kid.”

“What?”

“Kind of a long story? Let’s just worry about it after making sure that we’re both okay?” 

“Sounds like the best option to me.” Cookie smiled, leaning into his partner’s shoulder, doing a surprisingly good job of ignoring the scent of dried blood. Maybe in a few minutes, they’d just have the weather, and the matter of reversing the body swap to worry about.

“Oh, by the way, you did know that almost everyone else in the studio has been swapped around too, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Ready or Not....Here I Come (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff/Yandere!Scarlet Witch x Reader) (GIF contains potential MoM spoilers? IDK)

*Not my GIF, but damn.

Summary: This isn’t what you expected when she said she wanted to play with you....and now the stakes are higher than ever before.

(CW: Stalking, chasing, hypnosis, as is to be expected of a yandere witch)

Author’s Note: I randomly thought of this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x__N-31SpIk and decided “Hey, let’s do a fic based on this song.”

It’s also based on a fic I briefly saw where the reader is running through a hospital while Wanda’s chasing them. I forgot who the author is.

“Ding dong I know you can hear me Open up the door I only wanna play a little...”

You’re running on pure adrenaline and fear in this labyrinth that your stalker’s set up. Why did you agree to this?! It was as though something had possessed you, made you believe you could beat her, when you two made the deal.

“Make it out of this labyrinth before I find and trap you, and I’ll let you go.....fail, and you’re mine for all eternity....deal?”

“.....Deal.”

What a tangled web you’ve woven for yourself....

Of course you have some chance, but is it remotely close to possible?

“Only one way to find out....” you pant.

“Ding dong You can't keep me waiting It's already too late For you to try and run away”

You narrowly dodge a spider web trap, scarlet threaded within the sticky silk. You have no clue where she is, but you fear she could pop out at any moment, giving you no chance to run anymore. But screw it, this is your freedom at stake. You’re not going down without at least trying. 

She wasn’t always like this; she was sweet and adoring, affectionate and doting. But her obsession with you brought her out more and more....until she’s practically taken over.

“I see you through the window Our eyes are locked together I can sense your horror Though I'd like to see it closer.”

Your ankle hits against a beam that shot out from the wall and you trip onto the labyrinth floor. The pain reverberates against your jaw, but you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from crying out. You refuse to give her even the smallest hint of your location.

“Ding dong Here I come to find you Hurry up and run Let's play a little game and have fun.”

Your ankle throbs with searing pain, but you’re not giving up. With trembling arms, you push yourself back up as the beam retracts and continue on. The adrenaline actually mitigates the pain a bit, so you feel some strength. But every single sound is louder than normal.

“One over the other, I guess,” you pant.

“Ding dong Where is it you've gone to? Do you think you've won? Our game of hide and seek has just begun.”

Whoosh!

A blast of scarlet narrowly grazes your shoulder and the adrenaline pumps up big-time; she’s hot on your trail. You pick up the pace, hoping to find a way to throw her off. 

“There’s always a chance....there’s always a chance....”

But are you only deluding yourself?

“I hear your footsteps Thumping loudly through the hallways I can hear your sharp breaths You're not very good at hiding.”

You duck down to avoid another wall beam, this one at neck height. Though she’s promised that it’s not a deadly labyrinth, it sure as hell feels like one. Maybe there’s somewhere you can hide until she passes? No, she’d probably find you. You decide to store that as a last resort option.

“Just wait, you can't hide from me (I'm coming).”

You leap over another scarlet web. 

“Just wait, you can't hide from me (I'm coming).”

You slide underneath a closing vertical door.

“Just wait, you can't hide from me (I'm coming).”

You only just miss the puddle of pitch, colored scarlet of course, her signature color; you might even say it’s her calling card.

“Just wait, you can't hide from me.”

You feel as though you’ve lost all sense of direction, that you’re just running on autopilot. But if it gets you out, you’re not gonna complain.

“Knock knock I am at your door now I am coming in No need for me to ask permission.”

All of a sudden, you feel a breeze to your left; the breeze of the outside world! You’re so close to freedom, freedom from this delusional witch, freedom from being stalked constantly, freedom from her mind games.

“Knock knock I'm inside your room now Where is it you've hid? Our game of hide and seek's about to end.”

You sense her getting closer. Now’s your chance to make a break for it! You dash to your left, your strength pouring in in spades and you practically tearing up in relief. 

“I'm coming closer Looking underneath your bed but”

The breeze is getting stronger. You’re so close, you can almost taste it! Turning the corner, you see the forest in the night and the breeze is now devouring you. And you are more than willing to let it.

“I’ve done it....I’m free....I’m free!”

“You're not there, I wonder Could you be inside the closet?“

BANG!

Your face smacks against something hard and you stumble backwards. You lean against the wall to regain your balance. The breeze has stopped. Stunned you reach out and feel in front of you....it’s a wall.

You were tricked.

“Oh my beloved (y/n)....”

You can feel her voice on your neck.

“Ding dong I have found you.”

You whirl around in horror to spy the one you’ve been so desperate to escape, the one you used to love so dearly, who became someone else; someone obsessive and possessive of those she adores.

The Scarlet Witch.

“Ding dong You were hiding here Now you're it.”

She backs you against the wall, smiling in a twisted loving way.

“Your innocence is so endearing to me....”

“Y-you tricked me...” you stammer out, trembling.

“I’m sorry, (y/n),” she tells you. “But I can’t bear to let you go.”

“Ding dong Finally found you, dear Now you're it.”

She reaches out a hand and gently strokes the side of your face, treating you as though you’re a precious doll made of fragile porcelain. And you might as well be to her. 

“You have no idea as to how much I adore you, how much I love you, how much I worship you; you are the light that keeps me from slipping deep into the darkness, from letting the evil inside of me take over. If I let you go.....if I let you go....no, I don’t even want to imagine it.”

“Ding dong Looks like I have won Now you're it.”

You feel your eyes well up with tears before they pour on your face. Her smile drops and she reaches out, wiping them away softly. 

“Please don’t cry, my little dove....” she whispers. “It hurts me immensely to see tears on that pretty face of yours. I promise I will treat you like the delicate and precious flower you are. My delicate and precious flower. I’ll protect you from anyone and anything that tries to hurt you or take you from me.”

“Ding dong Pay the consequence.”

You see a red glow from her hands, and you know what’s coming.

“It’s time to sleep, my beloved only.....”

She blows on her hand and the wisp snakes into your ear, dancing around your mind, completely opening it to her words. Eyes fluttering, you drop into her arms. She picks you up bridal style before whispering into your ear.

“Tomorrow begins a life of devotion and adoration for us both....you’ll feel affection for me just as deeply as I feel for you, my little dove....now and forever...”

As those words sink into your mind, she gives you a gentle kiss on your head, as if to seal them within. As your eyes flutter shut, a sweet smile appears on your face as love for the Scarlet Witch blossoms like a vibrant rose.

Your fate is sealed for all of eternity.

“Ding dong Looks like I have won Now you're it Ding dong Pay the consequence.”

[titanicsimp]

Could you write some smut reader/Zeke/Levi? Btw the one reader/Zeke/Reiner/Porco was ✨✨✨🤤👀👀❤

I worked on this fic for a MONTH thanks to my fever brain <’3

Zeke Yeager x female!reader x Levi Ackerman

cw: threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, creampies, backshot, double penetration, fingering, biting/marking, rough sex, clit slapping, face slapping (once), spit kink, very minor injury (cut on lip), slight angst

The scent of smoke fills your senses with every soft puff of breath he lets out along your neck, his lips trailing along it like you are made off of the nicotine he’s so addicted to. As his hands dip below the fabric of your shirt, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up here, meeting in the middle of the night in a lonely storage space, in the arms of a man who by all means should be the enemy.

When his lips find yours, you can taste the answer on them. You had been lonely, so lonely. The man you loved had long made it clear he had no intention of being with you, he barely spared you a glance most of the time. When you had confessed how you felt, he had flat out rejected you, no reason had been specified outside ‘I can’t.’. Zeke was the exact opposite of him, not only as a person but also in his interest in you. He didn’t avert his eyes when you passed by, he didn’t give you cold stares, instead he gazed at you with lust without any hesitation or shame.

Was it weak of you to give in to this morally corrupt man so easily? Probably, but you were sick of spending the cold nights on Paradis alone, and Zeke was more than willing to keep you company.

Zeke’s touch feels wrong, yet it awakens a fire inside of you. Every spot he touches seems to tingle with anticipation, and you sigh into the kiss. Had it been so long?

Too lost in your thoughts to hear the jiggling of the doorknob, you are unaware someone has just entered the room, the feeble lock having easily given in. By the time Zeke notices, his hand has already been snatched away from under your shirt, his normally great senses having been slowed by his arousal.

“Do I have to cut your hands off again, beast?!”

You look on in shock as Zeke’s hand is forced to his back, and a knife is brought to his throat. You recognize the voice instantly, you have spent too many years around him not to. “Levi!”

“You think you can assault one of my soldiers?! You think you can lay your dirty hands on her?!” Though you can’t see his expression from behind Zeke, his voice lets you know he’s furious.

Zeke huffs but doesn’t move, an irritated look on his face at the interruption. “I think you have the wrong impression here. This wasn’t my idea.” His tone is smug, provoking Levi to dig the blade into the skin of Zeke’s neck.

“He’s right!” You say quickly, your hands quivering by your side. Though you would prefer to just disappear at the moment, you need to speak up before it gets even further out of hand. Out of all people, why him?!

The knife retreats from Zeke’s throat, leaving a single scarlet droplet in its wake. His lips quirk up slightly into a smile, smug at the short freeze he had noticed from the man behind him.

You want to avert your eyes when Levi steps out of Zeke’s shadow, but you don’t want to be disrespectful, not more than you already were by messing around with the enemy anyway.

“What did you say?” Levi asks, steel eyes commanding you to repeat yourself.

Your throat feels dry out of nowhere as your gaze locks onto his. “I said that he’s right. What you saw was my idea, captain.”

His usual stoic expression twists to one of hurt for just a brief moment, disappearing within seconds. He regained his composure so quickly that you question whether you actually saw it or were just imagining it.

Levi returns his knife to its sheath, eyes burning holes into your form. “We’re leaving.”

You blink in confusion, looking from Zeke to Levi and back. “What? I know what Yeager has done, but I wasn’t aware that interpersonal relationships aren’t allowed, seeing how things were going with-“

“It’s not about that!” Levi barks out, making you flinch. You had seen him angry like this only a handful of times, and only in situations far worse than this.

Zeke comes closer to you, facing Levi with a shrug of his shoulders. “Seems like y/n wants to stay with me.”

This whole situation is growing more awkward by the minute. Normally you would go with Levi without a second thought, but now you found someone that desires you you don’t want to give it up that easily. The thought of spending another 6 years of your limited life alone makes you stand your ground.

“You can have her,” Levi says, causing your heart to plummet to your stomach.

“When I’m six feet under the ground.”

You stare at Levi. His expression and voice have calmed down, but his anger seems to roll off of him in waves. Should you be happy? More than likely this has nothing to do with you, and all with the promise he made to Erwin.

You fiddle with your skirt uneasily. Gods, how could you be doing this? What a betrayal to all who have fought and died by your side these past few years.

Zeke glances over to you, taking in your nervous form before sighing. “I’m not sure if it will wreck your little soldier, but I don’t mind sharing.”

If you weren’t absolutely frozen in shock, your jaw would drop to the floor. Your turbulent thoughts are instantly blown away by Zeke’s words, a whole new moral conflict arising. Heat rises to your cheeks at his suggestion, the word choice of ‘wreck’ making your knees embarrassingly weak.

Levi grits his teeth. “I must have knocked some threads loose last time we fought for you to even suggest such a thing.”

His rejection doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. He didn’t want to sleep with you when it was just you and him, so now with Zeke here? No chance.

Zeke takes off his glasses, examining them in the light of the lantern before polishing them on his sleeve. He’s practically oozing disinterest, which you are guessing is the point. “I understand. You don’t want to do anything that will leave you embarrassed.” He says.

Levi stares him down, but Zeke continues casually polishing his glasses. “What are you implying?”

You look at Zeke, shaking your head slightly. Just drop it, this is madness.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what I’m implying.” He sighs when Levi doesn’t say anything.

“Just stop!”

Their gazes both snap to you after you yell. Your fists are balled, form trembling slightly from embarrassment and adrenaline. Sure, the prospect is exciting, but it will never happen, and at this point, you are starting to feel humiliated over the continuous rejections from Levi.

“I’m leaving.” You tell them and start walking towards the door, adjusting your messy shirt on the way. Levi tries to grab your arm when you pass, but you slap his hand away. “Alone.”

You already have the doorknob in your hand when the wood of the door shakes with impact. Wide-eyed, you look at the boot that’s keeping the door shut. The owner of it gazes at you with a conflicted look. “If you want to stay with him, stay.” He spat out the word ‘him’ like it was poison on his tongue.

Your gaze travels up his form and to his face, confusion written all over yours. What is this pushing and pulling? Stay, leave, which is it?

“Y/n, come.” You look back, seeing Zeke beckoning you with open arms, his glasses back on his face.

You chew on your lips, glancing between the two men once again. Levi drops his gaze, avoiding your questioning eyes. Ah yes, that’s how it is, isn’t it? The previous moments were exactly that, moments, and they had passed now he had come back to his senses.

Slowly, your hand slips from the doorknob, and as it does you can sense Levi tensing up next to you. Not daring to look at him in fear of conflicting your heart any further, you go back to Zeke. As you stare at your new lover with a stinging heart, you hear shuffling behind you. When you turn your head you find that Levi has propped an old chair under the doorknob, closing the storage room off more effectively. 

“You didn’t think I was going to leave her with you, did you?”

What? Your mind races as Zeke pulls you closer, hugging your back to his chest and his fingers finding your chin. Levi is... staying? You are given no time to process what this means as Zeke’s lips press against yours. He drags you into a wild kiss, forcing your mouth open by your chin so he can push his tongue past your lips. One of his legs pushes yours apart from behind, your skirt hiking up on his knee. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, the person you admire the most watching you get devoured by another man.

Zeke pulls away from the kiss slightly, leaving his tongue sticking out so he can show off the string of saliva connecting it with yours. He glances at Levi from the side, keeping you panting in your position. “Let’s get to it then, if you hadn’t interrupted us I would’ve already been between her legs.” Heat creeps up your neck at his crude words.

“Bastard.” Levi curses under his breath, sharp eyes finding yours. You can’t place his look, there’s anger there for sure, but also something else.

After Zeke’s little display, you are expecting him to leave the room any second and have him never want to look you in the eye again, but instead of doing that, he starts undoing the straps of his uniform.

It’s impolite to stare, but how couldn’t you? In all these years you’d never seen him anymore bare than in his nightclothes, and here he was, getting ready to strip right in front of you. Taking advantage of your distracted mind, Zeke swiftly pulls up your shirt, exposing your bra to them and making goosebumps rise on your skin from the cold air. As Levi’s eyes trail over your chest, you regret your choice of bra. It has a very low-cut cup, barely covering your nipples.

Zeke’s one hand remains on your chin as the other snakes up to the exposed flesh of your breasts. You shiver when he traces a finger just above the edge of your bra. “You even wore something nice for me? I’m honored.” Zeke presses his lips to your ear but still says it loudly enough for Levi to hear. You really had. It’s not like you had a ton of fancy underwear laying around, 98% of it were practical ones that weren’t exactly eye candy.

You gasp when Zeke backs up for a second and swiftly pulls your shirt off completely, forcing your arms up. He easily catches your wrists together in one colossal hand, keeping your arms up to ensure you can’t cover yourself.

“What do you think, Levi, should I take off everything?” Zeke asks, amusement sounding in his voice.

Your wide eyes move to Levi, a frustrated expression showing on his face. You would’ve thought he wasn’t enjoying it if it wasn’t for the obvious imprint in his pants.

Zeke tuts at Levi’s lack of answer, freehand creeping down your stomach and to the fabric of your skirt. “You’re right, it’s better to take our time.”

He crunches the fabric up in his hand, slowly pulling it up more and more until your panties are revealed. His breath is hot on your ear, becoming noticeably faster when his fingers grace over the silk of your underwear. Your arms wiggle in his grip as his fingers tease over your heat, sliding past your clothed slit. The more pressure he puts against the material, the more your body heats up, and soon he can feel a damp spot through it.

You look at Levi through your lashes, lids low as you hang back against Zeke’s body and let him explore yours. The embarrassment has mostly faded and you allow yourself to stare at him to your heart’s content. You notice everything; the subtle twitches of his face, his widened pupils, the way he swallows heavily every time a tiny mewl escapes your mouth. All of it combined with Zeke’s touches is sending electricity through your body.

Zeke’s hand trails up slightly, leaving your damp panties to stick to your core. You turn your head to the side, giving him a pleading look to take them off. He tugs at your arms, making you stand straighter and causing your ass to bump against his crotch, letting you feel the noticeable bulge there. His hand dips underneath the elastic of your panties, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. The pads of his fingers cause shivers to run down your body as they glide over your mount before dipping between your legs. You open your legs slightly so he can reach you well, causing him to chuckle.

“Eager aren’t we?” He has a hungry glint in his eyes when they meet yours.

You lean into his touch when his fingers stroke over your slit, gathering your slick on them. He parts your folds gently with two of his fingers, his middle finger teasing over your entrance. Levi comes closer, lured in by the pants and whimpers falling from your lips. Heat rises to your cheeks as he stands in front of you, barely any distance between the two of you. He looks down at where Zeke’s hand is teasing your cunt, Zeke’s finger lightly pressing on your entrance before moving away once again.

Levi’s hands come up, cupping your soft breasts in them. You bite your lip as he rubs your hardened nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. His gaze shoots up as soon as a moan sounds from you, one corner of his lips quirking up. More moans slip past your lips as he rolls your nipples between two of his fingers, the thin fabric of your bra adding even more friction.

Zeke frowns behind you. All he got was a few whimpers until now, but Levi touches you and you are moaning like a whore. No, he can’t have that.

You cry out when two of Zeke’s fingers suddenly thrust into your tight heat, a wet squelch resonating throughout the room. You barely notice Levi’s hands freezing on your breasts as Zeke’s fingers curl inside of you, intently searching for the rough patch on your walls.

Levi grabs onto your chin, his other hand harshly fondling your breast. He isn’t pleased like when you moaned for him, far from it. His lips crash onto yours, catching your open mouth by surprise. The moans enticed by Zeke’s fingers are muffled by Levi’s tongue, both men groaning as you shake between their forms. This isn’t how you expected your first kiss with Levi, but you might just like it more, the desperation behind it intoxicating.

Zeke’s fingers finally find their target, and he notices instantly as your arms jerk in his grip, your cunt clenching around him. He pushes and strokes over the spot feverishly, and not even Levi’s mouth can muffle your moans anymore.

“You should feel how she’s sucking me in, Levi. I’ve never felt such an eager cunt.” Zeke taunts. Levi doesn’t answer, lips moving against yours so roughly that you feel like your lips will be bruised afterward.

You’re getting close, you can feel it as your whole body starts tensing, bucking into Zeke’s curling fingers. You aren’t sure if Levi means to add to it, but as his hand dips below the fabric of your bra, nail softly raking over your sensitive nipple, you feel yourself rushing towards the edge.

It only takes a few more strokes of Zeke’s fingers before you cum around them. Your legs buckle and tense as you orgasm, Zeke praising you and grinding his bulge against your ass. “That’s it, good girl.”

Levi causes you to yelp out in pain when he bites down on your bottom lip out of nowhere, breaking a tiny part of the skin. You stare at him in shock as he backs up, still shaking from cumming as you watch him wipe the trickle of blood away from his lip. Even Zeke wasn’t expecting that, his fingers leaving your heat quickly and forcing your face to the side. He examines the small cut on your lip even as you try to cringe away from him cupping your face with slick covered fingers.

“Don’t cum for that animal when your mouth is on mine.”

You look at Levi from the corner of your eye. He doesn’t seem angry or shocked with himself, instead, he seems pleased.

Zeke chuckles. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Levi.”

His grip tightens on your wiggling wrists as you try to get some space between the two of you. He tuts at you, making your eyes dart back to his. You can tell from his grin that the little sympathy he might have had just now has disappeared.

“Open your mouth.” He says. He can feel your jaw tense at his words. He loves how innocently wide-eyed you look at him while knowing full well that your cunt is throbbing at the idea of obeying him.

Slowly, you open your mouth, and Zeke’s fingers ease off of your jaw. When you have opened your mouth wide enough for his liking, he slides the two wet fingers past your lips, deliberately going past the cut. Your taste is mixed with a faint hint of blood, but you don’t stop to think about it as Zeke’s fingers press down on your tongue. While you are lapping at his fingers, he finally lets go of your wrists, letting your arms fall to your sides.

You hear Levi sighing close by. “Seems like you are all show and no action. Couldn’t have expected more from a circus monkey.”

Zeke’s eyes stay on yours, daring you to look away even as they talk. “It’s called foreplay.” He responds casually.

Seemingly satisfied with your suckling at his fingers, he slowly pulls them out of your mouth. Taking in your swollen lips, he can’t hold back the urge to make you look even more pathetic. He wipes his fingers off on your cheek, leaving your own spit on it. Is it embarrassing? Most definitely, but in a different way than normally. Something about their rough treatment makes your abdomen flutter in excitement.

Zeke suddenly pushes you towards Levi by your shoulders. “Entertain him while I get these tight fucking pants off.” Zeke grumbles and you can instantly hear him start fumbling with his belt.

Your nerves chitter as you look at Levi. His watchful gaze always makes you scared to make a wrong move. You want to be good to him, for such a long time already that the need to is practically overflowing.

Tired of your staring, Levi makes the first move, pulling your hand forward and against his crotch. Your eyes dart from the bulge you are cupping in your hand to his face. “I’ve waited long enough, take off my pants.” The slight tremor in his voice as he speaks and the pink color on his cheeks has your heart beating faster.

He lets go of your hand, allowing you to move it. You slide your flat palm along the imprint of his cock, making him part his lips in a pant. Making quick work of the button on his pants, you start sliding down the elastic of it, taking his underwear off with it. When his cock is exposed, he pushes your hands away, quickly taking his underwear and pants off completely. He glares at you as he takes off his shirt as well, hair getting tossed on the way. “Strip.” He tells you. The way he throws his clothes to the side is yet another surprise in this odd night.

You let your skirt fall to the floor first, then your wet panties, and lastly your bra. Shivers run up your body from both the cold and the nerves that course through your body as you are naked in front of Levi for the first time. He watches you for a moment, his length twitching excitedly against his stomach. You are watching him as well, but you aren’t sure where to look first. His chest is lean yet muscled, dipping down his in a delicious V just above his crotch. Not following where the V is going would be a shame, and so you eagerly eye his cock. It’s long, curved to the side just slightly with a girth that already ensures you that he will fill you up well.

Wetting your lips, you step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you back up. Reaching out, you wrap your hand around his length. It feels hot and heavy in your hand as you give it a testing pump. You hear Levi’s breath hitch when you look at him through your lashes, eyes lidded. As your hand pumps his cock slowly, he can’t help but tense at the memory of all the nights he spend imagining his hand was yours. Watching you jerk him off, your pretty face so close to his, makes him want to hold you, but also ruin you until you cry.

“Y/n.” He starts and you cock your head to the side slightly, showing that you are listening even though your eyes are trained on his cock again. “Turn around.”

Your eyes snap back to his, searching for what exactly he wants but finding only more questions at the intense lust he’s showing. Precum leaks from the head of Levi’s cock as you obediently turn around, still within reach just like he wanted. You swallow heavily as you are now faced with a fully naked Zeke, his hand eagerly pumping his cock. He gives you a lopsided grin as his thumb rubs over the head of his cock, making it twitch in response.

Levi’s fingers press down softly between your shoulder blades, instructing you to bend forward just slightly. It’s not necessary for what he’s planning, but after Zeke made it a point to show off, he intends to pay him back. You yelp when Levi kicks your legs open and one of his hands grabs onto your hair, roughly pulling at it. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, causing them to be even slicker by combining your already present wetness on them with his pre. Tiny mewls leave your lips as he slides his cock back and forth, the top dragging against your soaked heat. Your plush thighs feel amazing already, but just sliding against them is not what he intended. He grabs onto his cock with his free hand and pushes the tip between your folds. Your surprised look makes Zeke chuckle, cock still in his hand. Is Levi going to put it in? The question rushes through your head and you feel the tip of his cock catch onto your entrance.

“Not yet.” He groans, unsure whether he’s telling you or himself.

The head of his cock slips away from your entrance, his length now snuggly between your folds. Your wet cunt feels better than he could’ve imagined as it drags past his cock, everything about it beckoning him to take you already. Hand on your hair tightening painfully, he starts thrusting slightly as you squeeze your thighs to keep him near. Your heavy pants are interrupted by a moan every time his tip slips against your clit, sending pleasure through your body.

“Look at those pretty lips.” Zeke says, coming closer to your bend-over form.

His cock is glistening with his precum, the head of it flushed red. As he’s closer to you you can really take it in, and the size is startling. Gods, you already have Levi’s sliding against your cunt and now there’s another right in front of your face, this is insane.

Zeke observes the bliss that comes over your face with every thrust of Levi’s. “Your shortness comes in handy for once, like this she’s at the perfect height to suck my cock.” Zeke tells Levi, tapping his cock on your parted lips.

Levi shoots him a nasty look. How he can be so cocky is truly beyond Levi. It doesn’t matter though, it’s clear that you like him better, your body speaks volumes on that. His thoughts making him slide forward faster, his hips connecting with your ass in a loud slap. As you open your mouth to moan at Levi’s actions, Zeke makes little time of thrusting his cock into it. You cough and sputter as you choke on his length, being given no time before he greedily slides himself down your throat.

Tears form in your eyes as Zeke fucks your mouth roughly, your nose bumping against his trimmed pubes over and over again. Levi curses behind you, jealously stirring in his chest. He disgusts himself with how the sight of Zeke defiling you both angers and arouses him. You scream around Zeke’s cock when Levi harshly brings his hand down on your ass. He hits your soft flesh repeatedly, his cock twitching against your heat at every hit.

Zeke coos at you as your tear-filled eyes overspill, the stimulation from both sides becoming too much. His hand strokes over your cheek comfortingly, though he refuses to slow down his thrusts into your squeezing throat. You feel your ass sting from the continuous slaps Levi is landing on your ass, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

Levi stares down at the darkened skin of your ass, his handprints littered all over it. A smile twists onto his face, proud of his work and the way your cunt is drooling over his length in return. Meanwhile, you are still choking down Zeke’s length, the strangled sounds from your throat making it clear that you are struggling. Your sounds draw Levi’s gaze back to where Zeke is fucking your face just in time. Levi recognizes the look on Zeke’s face instantly, head lightly thrown back and eyes closed. Without a second thought, Levi uses the hand in your hair to pull you off of the other man’s cock. You gasp and sputter for air, just as surprised as Zeke as he curses. “What the fuck?!”

“I’m not letting you cum in her mouth, I’m still planning on coming near it.” Levi explains casually as he slides his cock out from between your thighs.

You are still hacking and coughing as the two men exchange dead glares. Will you survive this? You truly wonder as you regain your breath. It’s like being pulled apart between two forces, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second of it.

“Shit.” Zeke runs a hand down his face, stroking it over his beard. “We can’t take her like this.”

You look up suddenly at his words. Hold on a second, he can’t be tapping out now?!

Zeke gestures towards a sturdy crate off to the side. “Sit on that, Levi.”

Levi grimaces and you look between the two men, just relieved you aren’t being left like this.

Zeke sighs and waves towards the crate again. “Do it or I’ll shove my cock back down her throat, and this time I won’t stop till I’m done.”

You look at Levi, who despite looking slightly disgruntled, agrees and goes to sit on the crate. Zeke swiftly picks you up after, the muscles of his chest presses temptingly against your back. He only holds you for a second before he sits you down on Levi’s lap, having you straddle him.

You place your hands on Levi’s shoulders, a shy smile on your face. He can’t help but chuckle slightly at that, you are still unsure even as his cock is pressing against your cunt. Zeke comes to stand behind you, hands grabbing onto your sore ass. He makes you push it towards him before he spreads your cheeks, whistling at the sight of your dripping hole.

“Don’t know how you resisted all this time.” He comments towards Levi.

Levi’s eyes don’t leave yours, too enthralled by finally having you on him to have Zeke ruin the moment. “Hurry up already, shit beard.”

Zeke lets one of your cheeks go to grab onto his cock. “As you wish.”

Surprising both you and Levi, Zeke aligns himself and pushes into your cunt in one swift thrust. You cry out loudly, nails digging crescent shapes into Levi’s shoulders. Levi is caught off guard for a second as he watches your blissed-out face, and Zeke takes the opportunity to pull out and thrust in with force once again.

“Let’s see if you get the same sound out of her.” Zeke taunts, smacking your sore ass once before pulling out of you. It’s obvious to even your foggy self that he did it just to rile up Levi.

You are panting again, your body shaken by Zeke’s surprise. The walls of your cunt sting from the sudden stretch, but at the same time squeeze eagerly around nothing, waiting for more.

Levi cups your chin in his hand as the other goes to your hip. You watch his dull blue eyes shimmer as he shifts under you till his cock is poking at your dripping entrance. For a second, you wonder how different this would’ve been if he had accepted you sooner.

With a hard push to your hip, he thrusts you onto his length, forcing your spasming walls to accommodate him in one go. To Zeke’s disdain, you do cry out for the other man. Not just the sound either, you cry out his name excitedly.

Levi pulls you in by your chin for a quick, sloppy kiss. It feels so hot inside you, so tight, he’s losing his sense and that’s exactly why he was afraid to do this with you. After this, he won’t want to let you go, while the world may force him to do so. He can’t think about that now though, not while your lips are on his. In this moment you are here, and he will enjoy you fully.

With one of Zeke’s hands still firmly on your cheek, he pulls it to the side, allowing a clearer view of how your hole is stretched and stuffed around Levi’s cock. He feels his face flushing. Though he would’ve liked to enjoy your cunt for himself, this sharing has turned out pretty entertaining so far.

You gasp against Levi’s lips when Zeke presses the tip of his cock against your other entrance. Breaking the kiss, Levi keeps his hand on your chin, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip soothingly, careful to avoid the cut he made. “Take a deep breath.”

Your breath comes out in trembles as Zeke pushes past your tight entrance, his cock coated in your slick. You can feel every inch of him slowly sliding into your ass, causing you to whimper as you soon feel overwhelmingly full. The wall separating their cocks twitches as both their lengths slide against it.

“You took that so well.” Zeke says as his hand finds grip on your free hip. He brushes your hair away from your ear, leaning in closer till his warm breath washes over it. “Makes me wonder how many men you let fuck your little ass.”

You bite back a moan when Zeke bites the top of your ear softly and, unbeknownst to you, connects eyes with Levi. “What do you think, Levi? You are her supervisor after all.”

Levi’s jaw clenches and he drops his hand slightly from your chin. “Seems like I missed a lot.”

You swallow nervously at the angry look in his eyes, your holes involuntarily clenching around their cocks. Quick like always, Levi moves his hand to your neck in the blink of an eye. You quiver between their bodies as he squeezing down on the sides of your neck.

“Who else did you do it with?” He questions, his gaze not allowing you to avert yours.

You gasp as Zeke starts moving, dragging his cock out just a little before thrusting back in. He’s more than eager to add onto your punishment, your body still struggling against the intrusion.

Levi shoots a glare over your shoulder, but Zeke shrugs it off. “You feel how she’s squeezing down. Seems like your cadet likes it rough.”

You didn’t think your embarrassment could return in this situation, but it does. Your perverseness was already exposed, but now the full extent of it is coming out as they question it.

“Tell me who fucked you!” Levi snarls, his hand squeezing harder around your throat. The fact that it happened right under his nose makes his jealousy spark into a wildfire.

His cock twitches inside you at the way your mouth quirks up into a smile. You are enjoying this, aren’t you?

Switching tactics, he leans in closer, ghosting his lips over yours and sliding his cock halfway out of your heat. You fall right for the bait as you try to move in to kiss him, whining when he pulls away just before you reach his lips. “Tell me who.”

Levi can feel your throat moving under his hand as you start and stop speaking multiple times. Your eyes and mouth go wide when Zeke thrusts into you hard, making your ass sting all over again from the impact. 

“Tell him.”

You nod your head up and down desperately. “Alright!” You yelp out as Zeke continues his sharp thrusts.

“Jean! Jean! Just a few times.” You say quickly, your cheeks burning up from shame.

Levi stays quiet for a moment, and you would have been scared if his cock wasn’t buried inside of you. He pulls you closer by your throat, examining your face. “Did he fill you like this?”

You want to answer, but your mouth is left hanging agape as Levi suddenly slams his full length up into you. Choked sounds leave your lips as he forces your hips to stay up as he joins Zeke in a harsh pace.

Zeke’s hands come around your front, fondling your breasts and soon squeezing your nipples with his fingers. “You sure have yourself a good slut here.”

All you can do is moan and cry out a jumble of their names as they fuck into your tight holes. Gods, have you ever felt this good before?

“I’m jealous.” Zeke grunts out, rolling your nipples between his fingers before giving your breasts a forceful squeeze.

Levi grunts as he watches Zeke squeeze your breasts together, his eyes glued to the cleavage it created. The sight makes him want to stick his cock between them, but that will have to wait for another time.

“Levi! Zeke! Ah!-” You mewl, your slick dripping down Levi’s cock as you bathe in the pleasure of being pinned between them.

Zeke and Levi look at each other, and though they couldn’t be more different, the two men understand each other’s gazes perfectly at this moment. Stilling inside of you, Levi makes your hand clamber desperately down his shoulders and chest.

“Levi, please!” You whine, attempting to move your hips but being hindered by Zeke’s restless thrusts, his hands having left your breasts to hold your waist instead.

Just as Zeke’s cock slides out of your tight hole till the tip, Levi thrusts up into you, filling you completely. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure as they switched up the pace, one now pounding into you while the other pulls away.

You barely even realized that Levi’s hand was still on your neck until he removes it, making you sigh under the relief of the pressure. “I waited so long, assuming you would break under my touch. But look at you now.” He grunts out.

Zeke chuckles as he bends forward to run his tongue over the length of your neck, causing you to shiver. “That’s on you, Levi. I saw it right away.”

You can feel his voice vibrate against your skin, lips so close you can feel them slightly ghost past when he enunciates. “Though I have to admit, the extend of it surprised even me.”

Your hands run from Levi’s pecks to his firm abs while Zeke’s broad chest presses against your back. The slaps of their bodies hitting yours resonating beautifully throughout the room. How did you get so lucky to be sandwiched between these men?

You bite your sore bottom lip as you feel the coil in your abdomen start to tighten. They too can tell you are getting close, your hips clumsily moving in search of more friction.

One of Levi’s hands moves between your bodies, slender fingers quickly seeking out your swollen clit. Screams get caught in your sore throat as he rubs agonizingly slow circles over your clit, his fingertips never faltering in the precise movements.

“Shit.” Zeke curses out behind you, thrusts growing sloppy as he feels your body starting to quiver from your incoming orgasm.

Levi’s free hand grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips quirked up in a lopsided smirk. “You hear that? Shit beard over there is about to cum.”

Your chest heaves heavily with your moans as Levi’s fingers work your clit faster, causing your holes to clench around their dick tightly.

“Bet you’d like that huh? Have him fill your ass with his cum?” Levi asks mockingly, squeezing your cheeks tighter.

His cock can’t help but twitch inside of you at the sight of your pathetically blissed-out face.

“Mmhm! Yes!” Is all you can cry out, so close to your release.

Levi releases your face, his eyes seemingly growing more darkened with lust by the second. Without warning, he moves his hand away from your clit slightly only to bring it back down with a slap. You squeeze your eyes shut as you cum from the sudden sharp pleasure, your legs shaking at either side of his.

You barely register Zeke’s wild pumping into you or the way Levi groans out your name as your orgasm rips through your body. The stimulation of their touches only prolong your bliss, mewls, and whimpers leaving your mouth like a chant.

With a hard slap to your ass, Zeke brings your focus back on him. You are still cumming as he squeezes the soft flesh in his hand, thrusting into you one last time. He breaths out your name as he empties himself inside of you and the warm sensation of his release spreading through you feels sinfully good.

Zeke leaves his cock buried to the hilt inside of your ass till the last twitch, your tight hole objecting when he starts pulling out. You feel his cum leaking out and spreading over your cheeks when he has pulled out of you completely. His hands grip your ass tightly as he spreads it, groaning at the sight of your leaking hole. At every thrust of Levi’s, your tight entrance twitches and forces more of Zeke’s cum to leak out.

Levi’s fingers have returned to rubbing quick circles over your swollen clit while he fucks you, and the intense sensation after you have barely finished cumming has your eyes rolling back as you cry out his name in encouragement. “Ah-! Don’t stop,” your unfocused gaze finding his “More.”

“You want ‘more’?” Zeke repeats, mockingly mimicking your slurred tone.

He grips his still-hard cock in his hand, pumping it in his fist. “Do you want more of him, or of me?”

You can barely muster an answer as Levi bounces you on his cock, your body shaking with the need to orgasm again. “B-Both!” You choke out.

“Guess I have no choice.” Zeke chuckles as he positions the tip of his cock at your twitching hole. Even though this is the second time, you still pleasantly surprise him with the way you eagerly suck him in.

Levi can feel the way your cunt spasms around him when Zeke thrusts his length into you, your mouth once again opening in a wide O. He’s the one who made you cum, isn’t he? So why are you still so damn focused on that shit face?!

He calls your name, but your foggy mind doesn’t register it. You are too close again, and after cumming so hard already twice, you feel like this time you won’t be able to stop.

Slap

The side of your face stings slightly and Levi gives you a dark grin as your gaze connects with his, your eyes cleared from their earlier fog. “Don’t go drifting off on me now, brat.”

You nod your head, your arms wrapping around his neck. You are back to focus, but you hope he doesn’t think that will prevent you from cumming. The way that they fill you is just too good.

“You can’t blame her. Her slutty body is betraying her.” Zeke says as his mouth moves to your neck once again. You don’t think anything of it as his hot tongue glides over your skin, so used to their constant touches by now.

Levi’s fingers leave your clit, once again followed by a sharp slap. This time he doesn’t do it just once though, he repeats the slap three times before going back to rubbing the abused nub. The way your sounds and labored breaths hitch in your throat every time have him closing in on his end faster than he wants.

Zeke’s gentle lapping and sucking at your neck turns animalistic as he suddenly bites down at the juncture of your neck and shoulder and you yelp as his teeth dig slightly into the sensitive skin. It only lasts for a few seconds before he sucks a giant hickey on top of the bite mark, placing a gentle kiss on the bruise afterward.

Shit, shit. Trembles rattle your body as you drench Levi’s cock with your slick, cumming from the added pleasure of Zeke’s bite. You let your forehead fall against Levi’s shoulder, mumbling slurred words and moans into his skin, your tiny muscle spasms alerting both men of your orgasm. 

Levi pushes Zeke’s head away from your neck. “What do you think you’re-” He stops his sentence, taking the other man in with narrowed eyes.

Zeke slows his thrusting, raising his shoulders in innocence. He’s about to say something, but Levi grabs Zeke’s attention by taking your face in his hand.

Their conversation has completely gone over your head, still tingling all over as the tip of Levi’s cock hits the sensitive spot on your wall repeatedly, dragging out your orgasm. The way they slowed down has you whine in displeasure as well as curl your toes at how it increases the intensity of each dragged-out thrust. The hand on your chin barely catches your attention, only truly noticing it when Levi’s voice pierces your thoughts.

“Open up and stick out your tongue.”

You do as he commands, your mind not even questioning it for a second. Levi chuckles at your display of obedience, you always were good at following orders. Zeke can make marks all he wants, but Levi knows who owns you on the inside.

Keeping a good grip on your chin whilst continuing to fuck into you, Levi observes your open mouth for a second before spitting in it. You mewl as he keeps your mouth open, watching his spit run down your tongue.

Zeke grabs you by your hair, forcing your face out of Levi’s grip and forcing it to the side. He groans at the mess Levi just made, your eyes growing watery as you moan with your mouth wide open. Zeke let’s go off your hair after noticing Levi’s glare. Shit, he could say so many things, but he’s close again, and he’d rather making a mess of your soft ass than argue with Levi.

“Swallow.” Levi orders when your face is turned back to him.

You close your mouth slowly, eyes staying on his as you swallow. A choked sound comes from his throat as he snaps his hips up into you, your hands flying up to grip the back of his hair.

“Fuck!” He curses. “Be a good girl and cum again, when you do I’ll fill you up.” He says, wanting to drag another handful of screams from your throat before he finally cums.

You nod your head, tears forming in your eyes from the intensity as both men desperately rut into you. Your holes spasm around them, your tired body ready to fulfill Levi’s wish any second.

Zeke’s forehead rests against the back of your head, his glasses fogging up from his panting. Every tremble of your perfect body pushes him closer to the edge.

“Z-Zeke.” He thinks he imagined it for a moment, but then your sweet voice calls out for him again. “Zeke!” One of your arms has left Levi so you can place your hand on the back of Zeke’s head.

You are pulling at both men’s hair now as your hips sway in a desperate attempt to ride their cocks.

“Levi!” You call out as well, the man busy clenching his jaw in an effort not to let too many moans out.

“Please! Please!” You beg, your fingers trembling as they grab at their locks. You scream out in pleasure, your orgasm interrupting your pleading. “I-” It’s so hard to talk, your throat feeling squeezes without any hand being near it. “I can’t take anymore! Please, cum!” You cry out, continuously interrupted by wild pants.

Both are happy to oblige, having had their fun in torturing you and now eager to give you your award. Zeke pulls out of your ass in one quick slide, pumping his slick cock in his fist. He’s the first to cum as he empties himself all over your ass and back, his cock jerking in his hand at the sight of your skin getting more and more soiled by him.

Levi presses a hard kiss to your lips before finally giving in to his release, making sure your beautiful eyes are on his as he lets go. You can feel every hot shot of his cum inside of you, your cunt clenching around him tightly. Zeke is just admiring his handy work from behind you as Levi fills you up for what must almost be a minute. Your hand in Levi’s hair twirls his soft locks between your fingers, your heart squeezing as your exhausted mind ponders he pend up he must have been himself.

You smile weakly as Levi kisses you again after he’s finished cumming. It feels appreciative, and he really does feel that way as he can’t remember the last time he felt so good.

Zeke takes in the way he painted your skin with his cum one more time before turning around to get his clothes, leaving you nestled on Levi’s lap. You let your head drop to Levi’s shoulder, not caring that his cock is still inside you as exhaustion nips at your body.

Levi strokes your hair gently, but his watchful gaze is glued to Zeke. It’s a good thing that Zeke is putting on his clothes because it’s clear from the look in the other man’s eyes that his presence is no longer welcome. Always the defying type, Zeke gives the side of your hip a quick tap before exiting the room.

“See you soon, y/n.”

After the door has shut after the blonde man, Levi immediately jumps to action. He moves you off of his cock, his cum streaming out onto your thighs and his lap.

“Shit.” He mumbles at the mess.

He kisses your forehead softly, making your lidded eyes look up at him. “You did well, but do this again and I will leave you like this for the other scouts to find.” He tells you strictly, hands coming up under your arms to lift you up.

You can only nod weakly, not able to find your voice anymore. Perhaps he’s a little mad at you, but you don’t regret it at all. Your lips twitch into a tired smile as you think, ‘yeah, I really did do well.’.

[serpentargo]

hello everyone! i decided that i should make another sambucky fic-rec list as requested, but this time, a bit longer (here you can find 40 sambucky fanfics; be sure to check the warnings!)

enjoy!

1. HIST 2112: American History since 1860 by Amaranth (TanTales)

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 3925

Summary: From: jjones7@delacroixsouth.edu

To: jbarnes2@delacroixsouth.edu

Subject: Your same-sex marriage post

Dear Mr. Barnes,

I’m Mike, from your American History class. I was talking with Alice and JD after class, and we realized that we were all a bit worried about your recent posts.

You mentioned how your “young friend” who helps with your memory explained same-sex marriage, but he got a few things wrong and by how you sounded, we think that he might be trying to marry you for your money/insurance/inheritance. We are not sure, and maybe a man in his 40s is attracted to a young soul such as yours, but we are worried.

If you need anything, we are here for you. Sonia lives nearby, and she says that she could drive you to the VA/your nieces if you need her to.

Best wishes,

Mike (and friends)

2. butterfly kisses by faerialchemist (@starkravinghazelnoots)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 17014

Summary: “But,” Bucky continued, certain his face was only turning a deeper shade of scarlet by the second, “this is our first real trip to New Orleans together. I guess I was hoping it would be more…” He swallowed hard, staring anywhere except Sam’s eyes before muttering, “Romantic.” Because really—how romantic could a bug museum be?

Sam stared at him for a moment, and Bucky groaned the second he saw a grin tugging at his partner’s lips. “Dammit, Sam. Don’t say it—”

“You, James Barnes, are a total softie,” Sam declared, gently knocking Bucky’s shoulder.

(Or: the Sambucky date to the Audubon Insectarium no one asked for. Cue bad flirting through bug metaphors, strange facts about insects, and—if Bucky has his way—more than just a hint of romance.)

3. falling, falling, flying by faerialchemist

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 2778

Summary: Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

4. Static in the Dark by jeffersonshattricks (@jeffersonshattricks)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 4989

Summary: Prompt from abc-easy-as-123 on tumblr:

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

5. Reckless Idiots Tend to Fall by jeffersonshattricks

Rating: Mature; Words: 4031

Summary: Fic prompt from abc-easy-as-123 on tumblr:

I was thinking a fic where Bucky and Sam are arguing cause Sam did something reckless on a mission and Bucky freaks out but oblivious Sam genuinely has no idea why. And then Bucky accidentally yells ‘because I love you’

6. and you brought me back to life by bothsexuals (@pourmoname) [/please read all of the fics of this author because they are honestly one of the best writers out there, especially with sambucky. i promise, no sam wilson is a good bro + bucky barnes needs a hug here/]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 1089

Summary: “Of course I wanted her to like me. She’s your sister.”

“Yeah, which is why you can’t date her,” Sam warned him again.

“I don’t—” Bucky sighed and took another sip of his beer, then mumbled something Sam could only barely make out.

“She’s not the Wilson sibling I like.”

or: Bucky needs to spell some stuff out for Sam. And then the other way around.

7. if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses by bothsexuals

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 1634

Summary: Things had been quiet for a while, which was good. There was no huge, time-sensitive threat, no bad guys chasing them, no mission bigger than stopping a petty crime or punching a few asshole cops.

Sam had also been quiet for a while, though, which was not good.

or: Bucky is not going to let Sam push him away out of fear.

8. life clove you and me (but magic might happen if i cross the c) by bothsexuals

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 3279

Summary: Sam, Bucky and the five love languages.

9. still feel the pull of you by napricot

Rating: Explicit; Words: 44382

Summary: “The frantic pulse of fear doesn’t ease until Sam catches sight of Barnes for the first time since the end of the battle: he’s dirty and disheveled, and still, somehow, impossibly, the best thing Sam’s ever seen. The gallop of Sam’s heart slows, and the tightness in his lungs eases so suddenly that it’s like he’s gone buoyant, ready to float away without the help of any wings. Barnes turns as if he can sense Sam looking at him, and when he meets Sam’s eyes, he smiles, and it’s the brightest damn thing on this battlefield, a shock of sweetness in the midst of so much dark bitterness and confusion. Sam smiles back, giddy with joy and relief.

He thinks, thank God Bucky’s okay.

Then he thinks, wait, what the fuck?”

After realizing there are some unexpected side effects for those who’ve been brought back to life after the Snap, Sam and Bucky slowly but surely learn that if they want to be loved, they must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known [via soul bond].

10. Favorite Worst Nightmare by stereobone (@stereobone)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 16422

Summary: This is a dream, Sam realizes. I'm in Bucky's dream.

11. oranges in october by honestlyfrance (@honestlyfrance)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 8369

Summary: You’d think that just because he had wings and he flies, that makes him an Icarus. Icarus fell to his death. He did not resurface, he did not live beyond that power. Sam Wilson soared high into the missiles of war and came back battered and red, dripping love and death as he stands in the aftermath of it all. You think he was an Icarus when he was actually Apollo. Anyone who gets close to him falls to the ocean waves, then sooner than later, he’s left singing eulogies as his heart rattles in a cage.

OR

Sam Wilson was healing, quietly and slowly, beginning to learn to love again.

12. It Rains Every April 10th by honestlyfrance [first time i ever cried because of a fanfic]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 5193

Summary: "I love you, baby," Sam had spoken, three words so sweetly spoken, an angel could've said it, and Bucky wouldn't mind if that meant that he had crossed to the other side and reached heaven, because it was Sam Wilson.

Bucky had twirled Sam once, the two of them sharing a laugh before he pulled the man closer by the waist. "I love you too, honey," he replied, making sure to put in much eye contact, to let his own eyes send the message his heart failed to say.

OR

A sneak peek in the life of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson to know the real reason why they think April 10 was a bad date.

13. The Staring Technique by M14Mouse [/communication through eye contact omgomg!!! nonverbal communication my beloved/]

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 698

Summary: Sam and Buck decided to drive his therapist nuts.

14. Tipsy by scotchandwhitelies (@scotchandwhitelies)

Rating: Mature; Words: 3617

Summary: In which Bucky Barnes gets so fucking drunk off asgardian ale that he forgets he’s already married to Sam Wilson.

He shoots his shot anyway.

15. just a touch by ohjustpeachy (@omg-just-peachy)

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1079

Summary:

“Well, you need to sleep, then,” Sam says.

“Easier said than done, Sammy,” Bucky says.

“We talked about the Sammy thing,” Sam points out.

“You talked about it. I’m pretty sure you like it, though. Besides, arguing will make my head hurt worse,” Bucky adds.

Sam laughs again, just as warm and soft as before, and Bucky wishes he could bottle the sound up and carry it with him, let it loose whenever he’s feeling like this again: hot and headachy and alone.

Or, Bucky gets a migraine and Sam helps.

16. laundry day by ohjustpeachy

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 470

Summary: "Hey, have you seen—" Bucky starts, but before he can even finish his question, Sam points to the laundry basket at his feet, where Alpine and Sam's own cat, Figaro are curled up, the best of friends, amid their their clean clothes.

"Can't get 'em out," Sam says. "Hi," he adds, pulling Bucky in for a kiss. "They followed me down here," he explains. "Made themselves right at home in there, the little gremlins."

Or, it's laundry day, and the cats are thriving.

17. I Want to Wear His Initials Around My Neck by ExecutiveNerd (@executivenerd)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 1104

Summary: I want to wear his initial, On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck, Not because he owns me, But 'cause he really knows me - Taylor Swift Call It What You Want.

Sam and Bucky start wearing the other's initials and the Avengers are still too thick to realize that they are together.

18. If I never let you go, will you keep me young by Ithinkwehaveanemergency (@ithinkwehaveanemergency)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 16323

Summary: “Don’t give up on him, Barnes.” Sarah says. “You both got this far. You’re here. Now. Together. That's gotta mean something.

Bucky supposes it does.

“Yeah, alright.” Bucky sighs. He shoots her a defeated look. “Don’t think I ever knew how to give up anyway.”

Post Endgame fic in which nothing really happens, and Sam Wilson is so very loved. (And I leave myself several open doors for this to become a series of post-canon domestic Sambucky fics)

19. overnight oats & realizations by Areiton

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1092

Summary: The morning Sam realizes it’s serious is a Saturday morning and Bucky is staring intently at overnight oats.

20. I loved and I loved and I lost you by Mercury_Writer

Rating: Not Rated; Words: 1194

Summary: Sam gets shot on a mission and spends his final moments with Bucky.

21. How Could I Do It Without You? (I can't) by Basketballer3511 (@fenny2613) [/i cried so hard and the fic is so so so SO realistic in terms of grief. you can read my comment there too if you want/]

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1206

Summary: Bucky was supposed to outlive him, but now his breathing was shallow and he was looking at Sam with wet, affectionate eyes and god Sam wanted to scream, to grab onto Bucky and never let him go because Sam didn't think he could survive without this man.

22. This Grave Couldn't Hold Me (But You Can) by Basketballer3511 [/the same about this one. even joking about each other deaths (i promise it's not what it sounds like, i just can't word it better) and remembering it after is realistic. we all do it but can't imagine what we'd do when a person is gone. also, sorry for the angst :)/]

Rating: General Audiences; Words 1118

Summary: His face was pressed into Bucky's neck when Bucky felt his world crashing. They knew it was inevitable that Bucky would outlive Sam but this. This didn’t seem fair. Not Sam. Not his entire world gone.

23. Captain America and the Winter Soldier: A Love Story by 42hrb (@exhuastedpigeon)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 2602

Summary: When Sam and Bucky accidentally on purpose came out as married, they agreed to sit down for an interview.

24. Constellation of Touch by st4rlabsforever (@st4rlabsforever)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 13437

Summary: Sam strips down to his briefs, slips on his sweats because he’s a gentleman like that, thank you very much, then rolls onto his side of the bed where he comes face-to-face with Bucky.

“Uh.” Sam blinks. Bucky blinks back at him. “You’re gonna turn around, right?” Sam asks. If they’re really being forced to share a bed, he refuses to be the little spoon.

“I’m taller,” Bucky says immediately.

“We’re the same height.”

“Nah, I’m definitely taller.”

“Why does that even matter?” Sam asks incredulously.

*

Or: 5 times Sam and Bucky both realize how touch-starved they are, and the one time they decide to do something about it.

25. invisible string by geekyziam

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1563

Summary: Sam and Bucky believe in fate and are soft boyfriends

26. diving blind by yukla

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 10717

Summary: Sam's about to exit out of the page and nag at Sarah for becoming a gossip-rag-follower when a voice starts piping out of his phone’s speaker.

“Breaking news on our favorite superhero couple,” says the host of the show, bright and plasticky under the studio lights. “That’s right, folks! We’ve got solid evidence that the Cap and Winter Soldier romance is real—”

Sam’s finger slams down on the pause button.

What, he thinks, the hell.

Or: five times that people think Sam and Bucky are dating, and one time that they don't.

27. to fly toward a secret sky by NoiceCool (@wandamax-vision)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 4018

Summary: It starts with a spontaneous idea.

Not a promising start, granted, but if it makes you feel any better, it isn’t Bucky’s.

28. things you never say by glittercake (@glittercake)

Rating: Mature; Words: 8584

Summary: He turns to look at Bucky, grinning, "I dare you."

"No! Literally no!" Bucky looks over his shoulder then back at Sam nervously, keeping his distance, "Have you never heard of Adam and Eve? I'm pretty sure this is exactly how their story went."

"First of all," Sam says, wiggling his eyebrows, "They were naked. Now, listen, I'm game—"

"Oh my god."

"Anyway, chickenshit, watch this."

or, Sam messes around with stuff in the Soul Stone he shouldn't be messing around with and pays the consequences.

29. warm blood (feels good, i can't control it anymore) by notcaycepollard (@notcaycepollard)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 4492

Summary: Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

30. Exactly What You're Looking For by snarkymuch (@snarky-drabbles) [/sorry i didn't tag you earlier, it seems like i couldn't find your tumblr, i'm so sorry :) loved your fic btw, especially how you managed the soulmate thingy/]

Rating: Mature; Words: 5898

Summary: When you lose something, it might appear beside your soulmate in the morning.

Sam never found anything from his soulmate until after Bucky Barnes dragged Steve from the Potomac.

Bucky grew up never finding a thing either, but after he finally gets free from Hydra, he starts finding things beside him the morning.

This is the story of them coming together.

now with a chapter of outtakes and alternate ending

31. No Rescue by Lettuceleafbird (@lettuceleafbird)

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 5543

Summary: Some good ol’ Sam and Bucky domesticity as they look for a new apartment in Louisiana.

32. since i am a dog, beware my fangs by theurbanspaceboi (@theurbanspaceboi)

Rating: Mature; Words: 3255

Summary: bucky barnes dreams of being the soldier. sometimes, when he wakes, the soldier is still there.

33. Captain America and Mr. America Are Together?!?!?!?!?!?!?! by Slytherclaw2005 (@slytherclaw2005)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words :3915

Summary: He ignored the rest of the messages left unopened and went straight to Twitter, and was shocked to see an exponentially larger number of tagged posts than usual, the first post he seeing said nothing more than “SamBucky confirmed?!!?!?!?!?!?!?”

The fuck?

He scrolled a bit, before landing on a linked news article, with the heading picture being him and Bucky. On the dock near his parents’ boat. Kissing.

Shit.

Or: SamBucky gets found out, the internet has a field day and the homophobes out there are being complete dicks. Sam (who still has his own self-doubts) tries to cover them up by focusing on worrying about Bucky, Bucky tries to comfort Sam and is a supportive bf.

34. i'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart by bothsexuals

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1292

Summary: Sam hasn't come back from his supposedly easy mission and Bucky is really fucking worried.

35. You give me feelings I can't put into words by Mimisempai (@mimisempai) [/this was so cute i just can't/]

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 1099

Summary: 5 times Bucky leaves Sam speechless, and once Sam returns the favor.

36. Samuel, my Sweetheart by lizzybizzyzzz (@yikesdontlook)

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 4057

Summary: Loving Sam is facile but picking him apart is intricate. The tiny pieces of Sam are spread apart like puzzle pieces on a coffee table. Separating and grouping is the easy part. Putting them together on the other hand? It requires a delicate hand. Sam isn’t fragile but the world has been too harsh for too long. What’s the roughness worth is there is no clemency in compensation? Yeah, maybe Bucky isn’t the one that should get to give this to Sam, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try while he’s got the chance.

(Bucky recalls a few moments where his and Sam's past have entangled on his sleepless nights. Sam visits him sometimes when he too, can't sleep. It's becoming a bad habit neither of them can shake. Sam is working on letting people in and Bucky is the receiving end.

Or, Bucky is so in love with Sam it hurts.)

37. all i see (is you) by yaksomins (@yaksomins)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 1172

Summary: “it’s been nice...having you here,” sam said while looking out at the water. “feels nostalgic."

bucky’s lips curled into a small grin. “yeah?”

“putting aside the fact you still can’t cook a decent meal to save your life,” sam glanced over at bucky and chuckled when he kicked his foot, “aj and cass love you and somehow you charmed my sister with those big, blue puppy-dog eyes of yours.” sam mentally kicked himself after the last few words left his mouth and cleared his throat. “well, that’s what she said. you know.”

38. in the soft after glow by Introvertedfangirl

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 756

Summary: Love confessions and general softness? Yes please

Excerpt: "And usually, I think and love, are not two phrases you want to hear in a sentence. But from Bucky? It’s perfect. And suddenly all Sam wants to do is touch this man who his entire being aches for."

39. At Home With Captain America by mischiefmanager (@sam-and-buck) [/I SWEAR TO GOD I WAS LOOKING FOR THIS FIC FOR SO DAMN LONG AND I RANDOMLY FOUND IT AND OH MY GOD IT'S 2 IN THE MORNING GOD BLESS MY AO3 SHITTY HISTORY LIST OH MY GOD OH MY GOD/]

Rating: General Audiences; Words: 7813

Summary: “What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

Wilson chuckles. “The first time I met Buck—Sergeant Barnes—he ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was driving on the freeway. He got on the roof, punched through the windshield, pulled the steering wheel off. Just like that.” He mimes with his hands as he describes it.

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

40. You're Welcome by Siancore (@siancore)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Words: 1416

Summary: It had started with their literal roll down a field of flowers. Clinging to one another tightly as they moved away from danger. Bucky was still hung up on the shield, and Sam had just saved him.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Sam panted as they both laid there on the long grass, amongst flowers, beaten and bruised.

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

--------x--------

Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.  

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

[bills-pokedex]

(Mod Question)

Oh… was the state of Scarlet and Violet the reason why you took a hiatus?

{Admittedly, no—it just had hilariously excellent timing.

If we're talking about the blog alone, the hiatus was (and is, as it's still technically going on) purely accidental because of a cross between RL stuff and me spending a lot more time on original fic, which honestly makes me happier than writing fanfiction ever has. There's something about toying with a universe you've created entirely on your own—and, also admittedly, seeing how many people are actually interested in reading what you create. I'm actually working on three different novels at the moment, one of which I plan on self-publishing sometime next year (and another of which is a delightful fantasy romance that's best described as "powerverse meets FFXIV Endwalker," should anyone be interested), and the amount of support I've gotten from writeblr, Tumblr's writing community, for these novels has been incredible.

But really, I do it for the freedom and the peace of it. I sort of alluded to this when I left fandom as a whole, but when I was super involved with the fandom, I felt like I was constantly doing things for other people or changing parts of myself to please others, only to have people violate my boundaries, take advantage of me, treat me like crap, ignore me/my needs, etc, and then go off on me because I wasn't doing what they wanted. There are good people in fandom, don't get me wrong. It's just that there are also a lot of people who don't really acknowledge that other people on the internet are, you know. Other people. If you catch my drift.

Point is, I just wasn't having fun. At all. And I guess that's also why I haven't really been back all that much. It's been hard to do much with Pokémon because sometimes, when I look at anything to do with it, I'm just reminded of how many years I'd spent making myself miserable when I could have been embracing the things I love. Like, apparently, I really like film analysis, and I never really knew that before because I'd always spend my time talking about Pokémon? And lost media! I spent two hours watching somebody on YouTube talk about how they discovered the lost Saban Moon pilot, and it was incredible. And musicals—apparently, I love musicals too!

And then, the writing! I wrote an entire book that was probably about 75% one dude monologuing, and people actually liked it? Not a single comment was disparaging? They're excited to see me turn it into a book they can hold?

I guess what I'm trying to say is for a very long time, I wasn't having fun with fandom. If anything, I was just hanging around because I liked Bill and Lanette and because I felt like I had to in some respects. So I kinda had to leave to do my own thing and figure things out, and that became a hiatus for the blog too, not because I intended to leave it when I left fandom (I was planning on doing more of my own thing here, after all) but more because I realized I was just having more fun doing other stuff.

Now, again, don't get me wrong. I still like this blog and want to continue running it. It's just that it isn't as much of a priority for me as it used to be. Will I ever close the askbox and write an ending? Maybe. I'd thought about it, even. It's been a couple of years since we last really heard from Bill and Lanette, and I had thoughts about writing a post in which we find out they've gotten married and started in on a new project—maybe even lay the foundations of Halcyon Labs, as a nod to one of my fanfics. But if that post ever comes, it'll be some time far off, I think. I'm not quite done with this blog just yet.

But! Yes, I'm still on hiatus. Technically.}

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[xiao-cafe]

drabble game — prompt 67

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

tags: fluff, grumpy diluc, healer!reader

wc: 1.3k

notes: in the part with the chest i don’t mean like a female chest but like a normal human chest that’s up to your interpretation ^^ also thank you to @spoiledmoras​ for requesting this! i rushed the ending bc if i went on it would’ve become a full-fledged fic and im not ready for that kind of commitment

The moon hung high and bright in the sky as Diluc limped his way back to Mondstadt. With each step forward, the next step became harder as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

It wasn’t like him to be injured so badly while protecting Mondstadt in the middle of the night but simple recklessness took a hold of him and he had rashly put himself in danger for the sake of intercepting a few Abyss Mages and the hordes of hilichurls they led.

Granted, his injury was merely a result of his rashness that led to him falling off the cliff after swinging his claymore too widely, making such a rookie mistake weighed heavily on him as he recalled why he had been so agitated in the first place.

Exhaling heavily, Diluc cast a withering glare at the steps leading up to the Cathedral. He had always been one up for some light exercise but his bones ached at the thought of dragging himself all the way up to get some medical help.

“I should’ve gone back to the Winery…” The red-headed man muttered to himself. He glanced back at the route he had taken, the gears spun in his head as he calculated his chances of making it back to the Winery before daybreak or even surviving the night.

But his thoughts were interrupted as you appeared before him, like an angel in the dark.

“Y/N.” He greeted smoothly as he attempted to stand up straighter. The sight of Mondstadt’s newest healer was a welcoming one for Diluc.

Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you observed Diluc looking dishevelled and nothing alike the refined gentleman he always appeared to be.

“Master Diluc.” You responded, eyes roving from his face to his feet. “You’re injured.” You gasped, pointing at his knees.

The man nodded quietly, refusing to explain any further.

One of the things Diluc disliked about you was your unnatural ability to pinpoint when something was up with a person. Your questioning gaze searched his face for answers but Diluc remained stone-faced as you guided him to the fountain by the plaza.

“I know this isn’t the most comfortable of places but I don’t think I could carry you all the way back to the Cathedral.” You said to the man as you helped him move into a seated position with his legs outstretched.

“It’s fine,” He answered, grimacing slightly as pain flared in his legs.

“Pardon me,” You whispered as you rolled up his pants, your face bore no emotion as you assessed the extent of his injuries. Your hands were cool to the touch as your fingers brushed against his skin lightly. As much as he’d hate to admit it, your touch calmed him down and the simmering rage that burned within him seemed to dissipate.

“You’ve been getting hurt more frequently as of late, is something on your mind?” You asked him, unaware that a pair of scarlet eyes were trying to burn a hole into your face for asking a simple question.

“It’s nothing.” Diluc answered stiffly, crossing his arms as he spoke.

The man wondered how much longer you’d take to fix him up and how many more intrusive questions would you ask during that time.

“You sure?”

Diluc sighed deeply, causing you to look up from your work in concern.

“I am. Fine.” He stated quietly, an underlying tone of anger laced his voice as he directed a steely glare at you.

Nevertheless, you were undisturbed by his grumpiness.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so.” You told him, a reassuring smile donned your lips as you continued, “Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.” 

Were you… giving him advice?

An unknown emotion erupted in Diluc‘s chest as he glared at you as you worked, your hands hovered above his wounds as you healed him with your powers.

“I have no need to disclose personal matters with you.” Diluc said, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

Diluc gritted his teeth, why would you ask if you had known in the first place?

“I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help,” You stated, answering his unspoken question.

“You’re always coming back to the city this late in the night, injured, and as someone who’s been healing you for the past few weeks I’ve just been feeling a little worried that’s all.”

It was true. Diluc knew he wasn’t being himself, throwing himself at monsters every chance he got. And the fact that you always happened to be around when he needed a healer was something he greatly appreciated. 

Perhaps he had been too harsh…

“Klee’s always saying that you never smile and I guess that’s true!” You laughed pointing at him.

Even without a mirror, Diluc knew exactly what you had meant and your laughter only served as oil to be added to the growing flames.

As time passed, the pressure on his brow lifted and the quiet anger quickly turned into approval (and a hint of admiration) while you finished up the healing process, unfurling his pant leg to signify that you were done.

“I’ve done as much as I could but you should definitely follow me to the Cathedral so you can receive proper treatment.” You stated, perspiration coated your forehead which you promptly wiped away with your sleeve.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” Diluc answered, refusing your outstretched hand in offer. 

“Oh, but I’ve only alleviated the pain, the injury is still-” Your words were interrupted as the red-haired man attempted to stand up, only to fall forward and into your arms.

You let out a yelp as Diluc’s weight sent the both of you crashing into the cobbled floors.

“Are you okay?!” Your voice was high as you lifted Diluc’s face from your chest.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t support your weight.” You blurted out and continued to apologize profusely even as Diluc lifted himself off of you with his arms and rolled over.

“Your face is red, do you have a fever!?” You pressed your palm to Diluc’s cheek, “You’re burning up!”

Diluc remained composed despite his flushed cheeks, his face felt warm and the way you touched him in such an unrestrained manner didn’t seem to bother him at all. In fact, he wanted more.

You were a rambling mess as you fussed over him, checking his temperature and if his injury had worsened.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at you as he let you help him sit up, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hold you. But he let you press your body next to his as his arm slung around your shoulders and you lifted him from the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’m prepared to support you this time!” You assured him, to which Diluc responded with a low unconvinced hum.

Yet, a hint of a smile was evident on his lips as you walked with him up the many stairs, until the both of you reached the Cathedral, out of breath.

“We’re… Here…” You panted, your legs complained with each step you took but you ignored the limits of your body and focused on getting Diluc some much needed medical help.

In truth, Diluc had already gotten used to the initial soreness in his legs. With the pain gone, he could still walk even though he was certain the bone within hasn’t mended but the man wasn’t about to tell you that.

In his eyes, you were strange, asked many invasive questions, yet you stirred something deep in his heart and he would rather compliment Kaeya than to say what was on his mind.

Even as you called for Barbara, you stayed by his side. Making sure he was comfortable and assisting Barbara whenever you could.

Although, the blush on his face still wouldn’t go away.

end.

end notes: this was also unedited bc its 1am and im sleepy lmao

[descendantofthesparrow]

Poly sea three x reader - oneshot - Lonely

*as i finished this i realized this has no dialogue...which is kinda cool i’ve never written a no dialogue fic, so enjoy!* ((y/n) is Jack Sparrows kid btw if you couldn't guess from the compass on the moodboard) 

=

After Uma left, her life was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. On nights where it had just been too much stress at the chip shop, she would retreat to one of three rooms, sometimes even gathering all of them to be in her room so she could just relax with her favorite people.

Her head rested on her first mate's chest, his solid heartbeat and even breathing lulling her to sleep, her body tangled with her war chief, arms wrapped around each other like snakes and thumb gently rubbing her back. Her legs coiled around her second mate, his hands pressed against her calf and thigh, always letting her know he was there.

Uma didn’t know how much she relied on them until she couldn't get back behind the barrier, eyes wide with helplessness as she called out for them on the other side, Harry when he would nab some fish from an unsuspecting fisherman, (y/n) when they sat on the docks, carving whatever they felt like into their dagger, Gil when he was skipping rocks.

They never heard her, and she didn’t try again as she watched them walk around on the deck of her ship.

She missed them, she realized that almost as soon as she hit the water outside the barrier, stopping for a moment to look back, watching as the barrier closed and she was separated from her friends.

Sometimes, she would see things that reminded her of them, the scarlet ribbon of a disregarded dress, a sparrow flying above her, a broken arrowhead at the bottom of the sea.

Uma just wanted to be with them again, her heart ached every night she went on without the sound of Harry's heart, the feeling of (y/n)s hands gently scratching at her back, the feeling of Gil's hands gently massaging her legs. She realized she loved them, all three of them, the longer she was away from them.

She missed them all, so much.

And she hoped that they missed her too.

-

After Uma left, the isle was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot of you at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. And she saw the inner workings of them behind closed doors, rusty cogs and scratched glass resting before her eyes.

Harry got more…twitchy, after Uma left, his usual controlled rage that used to bubble beneath his skin bursting out more often, scaring the crew sometimes, but never you and Gil. you both knew he’d never hurt either of you, he’d throw himself off the edge of the world before he even thought about doing so.

Harry was just so angry that Uma was gone, stuck on the other side of the barrier, he had no doubt she didn’t abandon any of you but that didn’t stop him from screaming and destroying the training dummies.

He shut himself away from everyone soon after the anger burned out, even Harriet hadn’t been able to convince him to unlock his door. It had taken almost a month for him to let you and Gil inside, and he looked awful, his skin was pale and his nose and cheeks were red, his eyes puffy and dull. The only reason he wasn’t skinny was thanks to you and Gil leaving trays full of food in front of his door at mealtimes, and leaving it there for him to grab it.

During those months of anger and depression, you and Gil took over the crew, you ascended into the role of captain, being the most knowledgeable about the position thanks to your lineage and Gil becoming first mate, all temporary until Harry recovered and Uma returned.

Though once Harry started to slowly return to his “normal” self, he didn’t care to try to take back his role as the first mate or become the captain as his first mate duties proclaimed, that alone told you and Gil and something was still wrong with Harry.

One night you and Gil dragged Harry into Uma’s empty quarters, and just laid in her bed in a tangle of limbs, Gil laying between Harry's legs with his head on Harry’s stomach, while Harry curled up into your chest, hands clutching onto your shirt. That night was one of the few times you saw Harry cry, choked sobs ripping from his throat as he attempted to muffle them in your neck.

You and Gil let your feelings out that night as well, assuring Harry that he wasn’t alone in missing Uma, you all did. So.damn.much.

Harry had always been in love with Uma, never afraid to show it, but that night you and Gil finally proclaimed the same after years of hiding your feelings in fear they would be used against you. And you loved each other too, it was hard to deny, not after revealing your feelings for Uma.

You all vowed that when Uma returned you would shower her in the love that you had all been deprived of for many years.

It was over a year later before you saw her again, Gil and Harry had jumped out of the barrier behind Mal and her goons plus Celia, Harry knocking the blue gem out of Mal's hand.

Your breath escaped you when a turquoise tentacle caught it, and Uma, looking more beautiful than you remembered, emerged from the water, dressed in an altered version of her turquoise cotillion dress, the sweetheart neckline showing off her glowing shell necklace.

Uma and your boys reunited, but she didn’t look at you, probably because you were back behind the tunnel and she couldn’t see you through the barrier and the darkness of the tunnel. But that was fine, you could wait just a bit longer before you looked her in the eyes again.

You would wait a thousand years for her.

But you wouldn’t have to wait that long, the next morning you awoke to the crew loudly celebrating, cheers and chaos echoing through the halls of the ship from the main deck.

You slipped out of bed, quickly changing into your gear and racing up to the main deck, unable to keep the smile of your lips as you saw Uma, who continued to glow with an echo of her magic, being lifted by the crew, all cheering and celebrating her return.

Her eyes locked onto yours, and as the crew set her down on her feet, you walked toward her, taking off your tri-corn hat and kneeling in front of her. You said her name like a prayer to the gods, a whisper on your lips. Uma shivered at the tone, feeling something wash over her at your worship.

As she looked around at the crew, Harry and Gil standing only a few inches from her, not wanting to be far from her, she realized that while Auradon had everything one could want, riches, good food, magic.

It was nothing compared to the warmth she felt surrounded by her crew and the three people she loved with all her soul.

Uma grabbed your face as you stood up, biting back a smile at your confused look, and pressed a kiss to your lips, the crew around them exploding into cheers.

Uma pulled back from you, smirking at your dazed look as she spun around and grabbed Harry's jacket, pulling him down to her height for a kiss, laughing into it as he slumped into her and groaned. She pulled away one last time and turned to Gil, grinning at his ‘excited puppy’ look, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as he picked her up by her waist to give her better access.

The crew celebrated and cheered, Bonnie handing Desiree a wad of cash when you and Harry kissed as Gil set Uma down and pulled the four of you into a hug, Uma pressing a kiss to his cheek as he did.

All was well again.

Uma wasn’t lonely anymore.

-end-

lowkey kinda proud of this one hehe, tell me what yall thought! this was originally going to be a under the sea kinda fic but it turned into them all missing Uma and Uma missing them and then they all reunited and kiss and just asaoishdahsda i couldn't help but do the fluff at the end 

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @remembered-license​

@random-thoughts-003​  @imtryingthisout​

@rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ 

@verboetoperee​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

[heliopauseentertainments]

To Reconcile

For MegaDrift Week 2021.

Prompt Day 5: Bittersweet / Tender

Continuity: IDW1 Rating: Teen Relationship: Megatron/Drift  | Deadlock Characters: Megatron, Drift | Deadlock Summary: In which Megatron interrupts Drift's sparring practice. Crossposting: In a reblog

Fic under cut.

This new universe, where death no longer hung over Megatron's head and reminded him of borrowed time at every turn, had been a gift. Now he had all the time he could have ever wanted. However, chasing ghosts of the past for closure was probably not what most mechs would do with this boon.

In their home universe, he imagined that he would simply wait in his cell for the inevitable and take the words with him into whatever oblivion would come next. Now? With a new, more welcome unknown awaiting him, Megatron had a chance to say something he'd kept to himself all these years.

That still meant actually doing it, following through with his intentions.

Megatron tapped the access panel on the door in front of him. The panel flashed green with a cheerful beep as the door to one of the sparring rooms slid open. There was a chance that he had chosen the wrong sparring room. However, given that it was the one records indicated Drift used the most frequently during his downtime, the odds of a mistake were low.

His guess was correct. The noisy static of a practice blade colliding with and passing through a holomatter dummy filled the room. Drift swung high, leaving himself open if the avatar had been instructions beyond standing still. This looked less like practice and more like self-indulgence. Normally, these dummies tended to look like generic medium-sized Cybertronians with indistinct kibble unless programmed otherwise. This one had the misfortune of bearing a strong resemblance to Turmoil, large and broad with dark, heavy plating.

Megatron, willing to be patient this once, waited just inside the doorway. About half a minute of presumably gratifying blows later, Drift froze when his optics finally caught sight of the captain. The speedster’s arm was still in the air, part way through what would have been a decapitating swing had the interruption not broken the arc. Drift’s blue optics went wide with embarrassment.

Blue. For so long, when they belonged to Deadlock, they had been red, a burning scarlet, and now instead… they reminded Megatron of the sky on a clear day.

“Have I interrupted you?” he asked, a mockery of an innocent look on his face. He knew very well that he had, in fact, disrupted Drift’s “training.”

“Looking for Rodimus? I think he’s in the medical bay getting his ankle looked at.” Ah, yes, of course, after that botched somersault earlier that morning. Of course it had taken Rodimus all day to go have it looked at. He hadn’t even let Megatron perform basic first aid on the injury. No matter, that wasn’t what the captain had come here for anyway and his foolish friend was getting assistance.

“No, as a matter of fact, that is not the purpose of my visit.”

Drift went silent, lowering both his guard and the practice blade he’d been using to assault the holomatter dummy. Turning away, he pointedly dropped his cerulean gaze to the floor.

Megatron glanced from Drift’s evasive posture to the homonculus of Turmoil that had been on the receiving end of Drift’s earlier venting. An idea percolated its way through his mind.

Calmly, he walked to the wall panel that controlled the practice dummy. There were options for AI programming for more realistic training, adjusting the appearance of the opponent for practice against different frame-types, how many copies of enemies and where in the room to place them, and so on. These sparring rooms were equipped with all manner of options. However, Megatron only needed one. He pressed the button powering the entire software suite down.

“Turmoil” vanished with a soft buzzing noise. By the time Drift turned to see what happened, Megatron was standing where Turmoil had been. He held his right arm up in a guard with his left pulled back and low, ready. Both palms were open. An unspoken request to be the holomatter dummy’s replacement.

Drift’s optics narrowed at him, suspicious. Megatron had no idea what it was like to be sensitive to electromagentic fields, but he did know when Drift was struggling to interpret someone’s intentions through one. As Deadlock, he had often complained to him, in private, when someone’s field—“aura” he’d called them back then—was opaque, unreadable to him.

“You’re unarmed.”

“Yes.” As far as carrying a separate weapon was concerned anyway. That didn’t mean he was divested of his skills. Besides, besting Drift in combat was not his goal, so much as the match would be a vehicle for communication. “I’m ready.”

“I know.”

That was all the consent either of them needed to begin.

The blunt sword whipped up and across Megatron’s front in a tight arc, the air whistling as it just missed his plating. A warning that Drift had not gone soft in his time with the Autobots, even if he had changed his preferred tool from blaster to blade. Winning would not be easy, but, luckily, for once Megatron didn’t want to “win.”

They separated briefly before Drift continued his assault, seemingly determined to be on the offensive.

That was fine. That was what he wanted. All according to plan. Drift spun and slashed while Megatron stepped away or leaned out of reach. If the “blade” made contact with a vital location, he would lose.

This “match” wouldn’t take long. There was no malice in it, unlike Drift’s “practice” against “Turmoil.” All he needed was the right opening. If Megatron remained on defense, if he edged inside the blade’s reach, the opportunity would present itself. Normally, one wanted to stay outside of a weapon’s blood circle, but if he got inside, the weapon would become difficult to wield effectively.

That opportunity came when the blade swung upward and Megatron sidestepped outside of the arc. The swing of the blunted practice blade was turned aside with a nudge from his forearm, breaking the illusion of danger.

“I thought about you every day.”

Every day since Deadlock became Drift once more, Megatron’s thoughts had lingered on the mech that had steadfastly stood by his side through the war until one day it was too much. The thoughts only grew in power since he was placed on the Lost Light, finding out that not only had Drift been on this ship but that he’d purchased it. The entire ship was a memento of his presence, even if he’d disappeared before Megatron had ever stepped foot on board.

It had been hard to suppress his anger at Rodimus for banishing Drift. Rodimus wouldn’t have understood nor would it have solved anything, a lesson he’d finally learned. Worse, if he’d spoken up, Megatron would have revealed a number of things that clearly Drift had meant to conceal. In a rare move, he had opted to respect that decision. It had been instrumental in letting that anger go, especially in conjunction with Rodimus’ obvious regret about what had happened.

“Every single day, Drift.” He slid his palm down the flat of the blade to the hilt, carefully closing his fingers over Drift’s hand.

Optics meeting, they both froze. An uncomfortable, heavy silence stretched out between them for several, seemingly endless seconds before Drift finally spoke.

“Did you?”

His spark sunk in his chest. Megatron hadn’t expected a positive response. He didn’t deserve one, but he still wanted to at least address it before—The sword fell away, Drift having decided to drop it. The blunt instrument clattered to the floor, forgotten and unnecessary.

The guard was no longer in the way of a comfortable grip on the smaller mech’s hand. He brought up his other hand to join the first, enveloping Drift’s fingers between his palms.

“Incessantly.”

Even when he’d been in the midst of battle against Autobots. Even in his nonconscious, fragmented coma dreams. Even stalking the halls of a base full of unfortunate, desperate mechs so starved they had turned to cannibalism. Even when he’d been trapped, frozen in place in Wheeljack’s machine.

Megatron had wondered about Drift. Where he was. How he was. If he was alive. If they would ever meet again. If he was lost to Megatron forever. He had remembered the sound of the assassin’s voice in quiet moments. He had remembered the works of written art they’d created together. He had remembered the touch of a familiar frame, warm and close.

All to the point of distraction.

He had started making mistakes and doubting. Everything had gone downhill in a blaze of failure.

“And,” he started, taking a moment to ventilate deeply before he forced a heavy phrase from his vocalizer. It was his fault that Drift had become Deadlock, that Deadlock had all-too-readily committed atrocities in his name, that they’d flouted the chain of command, that Deadlock broke apart to rebuilt into Drift again. “I’m sor—“

Drift’s hand escaped his grasp before reappearing around his back, joined by its twin as Drift embraced him.

“When you stopped believing in me, I stopped believing in myself and—“

“You’re ruining the moment. This isn’t a poetry reading.”

“So it isn’t….”

“Save it for later.”

Oh.

[dylanxmin]

nobody does it like you do∣ k.nj

this work made for valentine’s day and there is a masterlist where a couple of writers came together to write for the sprit of the valentin’s day. please check the masterlist, and give lots of love to each work !  ♡ ♡

bangtan pastries ; valentine’s mlist

you didn’t fall in love with kim namjoon at the first sight, or he didn’t look anything sweet in the metal cage, but out of the ring, he was the sweetest, kindest one you can meet. Day by day, you fell in love and after two years, he decided to be the cheesy lover. 

OR to cringe you in and out on the valentine days.

pairing; fighter!namjoon x female!reader

genre; cheesy romance, smut, light angst(very very light dark atmosphere,oops:), established relationship, valentine au, pwp?,,

rating; m +18

warnings; mention of blood(as nj is a fighter:), mention of sex, kinda toxic but not toxic relationship(they just way too in love:), cage fighting, mention of yoonmin(and they have daddy issues:), mention of crossdressing, namjoon is totally an exhibitionist(but not gonna happen), a couple of curse words, Valentine's Day cliches(of course, duhh!), master - pet kink, bdsm motives, bondage, shibari(?), dom namjoon, sub reader, oral (f), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, begging, dirty talk, pain kink, humiliation kink, degradation, choking, biting, marking, hair pulling, rough sex, messy sex, unprotected sex(u know what not to do:), ig reader has a thing for namjoon’s hands but yeah,,,

word count; 11.4k 

a/n; heyyy, happy late valentine’s???,,, well, i have lots of complicated thoughts on this one ‘cuz my mind and my muse had a big fight on this fic. One of them wanted it to be very, very dark while the other decide it would be too much(you should guess which one wanted it to be dark and which didn’t)... so ion know if this come out as dark or light? maybe in between? hopefully? Plus, smut took me ages to write, as it clear, I can’t write smut now. Yeah, tea is out ! lol. a n y w a y s.... hope you will enjoy reading it? PLS mind the warnings guys, ion want you to feel uncomfortable,, soo, enjoy it xx  ♡

             ‘‘Listen to your heart when he's calling for you

                 Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do’’

The question starts with a wrong turn at the top. Not ‘why?’. It should be ‘how?’. Would be more fitting, more understandable. 

How did you fall in love with him? 

Yes, you. How exactly did you fall in love with the man you called the love of your life?

Because he was a fine looking man? He was tall? Got a sense of fashion? He was hot, maybe? 

No. You fall in love because he has everything you want. Everything you need. And also more. Even more. 

It was the way the dark pupils lost behind the curl of his eyelids in a good laugh. Sugar skin dips down to force out the cute little holes, the dimples. Or the apricots, you called them mostly. 

Maybe you fell in love because you were jealous of the way he loved, cared for his plants and simply wanted to take their place in his heart. Or, he was so caring that he could still love watering his plants, talking to them while loving you crazy. Sending you to the moon before you can understand the lackness of your weights, the easiness of your heart, he would take you back. Land you gently as ever.  

Not knowing for sure, but you may also have fallen in love with him when he rented the second bike for you, so you could go to the mountains with him. Or when he had read the book you mention out of the context, without even paying attention that you couldn’t even remember when he said he read it in three days. 

Maybe it had happened because he gave you a soda when he took it for himself, or the one time he had chosen to stay with you rather than going out with his friend because you weren’t feeling well enough. Maybe-

When the killer hands for his opponent tangled above your skin so carefully that it felt like a feather, it may be the reason. The same hands that bloomed scarlet stains bake the most beautiful, heavenly pastries for you to lose in the taste, you may or may not fall in love. 

But-

You could say countless examples and it wouldn’t be enough as it didn’t happen in one night, or because of a thing. Just simply as ever, you, fell in love with the most dangerous - as well as the softest - man in Korea. 

The ruthless, mellow, the raptorial, thoughtful, destructive fighter one can ever see in a lifetime. 

Brightest man in the fighting industry. The idol of the young ones. 

The Chopper. 

Your lover. Everything you want. And more. 

Kim Namjoon. 

The darkest night and the brightest star at the same time. Every nightmare, every heavenly dream he was able to be at the same time but now, inside the metal cage, he chose to be the first one. To be his opponent’s nightmare as the constant strikes didn’t stop, continued to smash on the skin of the man who was looking almost at the same age as your lover, something was cracking. 

Stage surrounded by the crowd, acclaimings, a chain of the name of your lover’s attached to the lips of the audience, he was feeding by it. As it was obvious by the curl of his mouth, back muscles going lack and strains again with every syllable of his name. 

Opposite to the others, you were silent. Tongue-tied, mostly. 

Not because you are afraid of the crimson on his hand, or the light of something inhuman deep inside of his eyes. You were muted against the glory he held around himself. The way he owned everything and everyone in there, you as well. Sun-kissed skin glowing with victory sweats, and more, the bell ringed. 

Once, twice, and three times. 

Bell of the Chopper’s victory call. And everyone going crazy behind you, beside you, in front of you, you continued to watch your lover. Muted. Frozen. Swollen with pride. Couldn’t even take your phone to stick this moment into eternity, even though you want to have this moment in your pocket. Your lover’s arm on the air, fist tight enough to break a neck, smile of his proud beamed on his face. Daunting glares melt the moment they land on yours, melting into something you may call affection. 

Maybe a bit of bashfulness, as well. 

But then, the familiar sweet apricots come to light, and the ice that holds you still breaks into million pieces. And you smile back, eyes heavy with unshed tears. Chest fluttering as the effect of seeing his dimples never, ever fades away. Starting to clap one palm to the other, ease takes over. Relief gives your air back in your lungs after you realize there is nothing to be afraid of. He, your lover, the Chopper, Kim Namjoon won the fight and he is safe now. There is no harm he could get. 

So, that means you can turn your back, and leave the crowd behind to wait for him in the locker room for him to get done with all the things he has to. Such as taking photos, talking with his boss, and filling his pocket with money. Shortly, the thing you don’t want to be included, so you pushed the iron door to get inside the to-be-empty room but clearly it wasn’t and you stop at the entrance like a deer in the headlights. 

Obviously, you weren’t expecting two shirtless men to eat each other’s face, but the loud thug of the door broke their sessions while two pairs of eyes turned over you. Shallow breaths, pink glowing cheeks, you must say that they looked adorable. 

‘‘Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess?’’ biting your lips to prevent any sort of voice from coming out, the face eaters’ smiles burned bright, like the pink horizon on their cheeks. One of them waved at you from afar, and you returned the act.  

The one with mint neon hair sat on the bench, brushing his hair back before greeting you. ‘‘I assume Namjoon won as you are not crying or screaming your lungs out?’’ 

‘‘Maybe you can be a little lighter than that, hyung.’’ even though the other tried to hide away the bluntless of the older, you snorted. He didn’t say anything wrong, though. 

Waving a hand, you open the locker of Namjoon to get his things to leave here quicker. ‘‘It’s okay Jimin-ah. I know Yoongi enough not to be bothered by him, and he is kinda right. I did cry and scream a lot when Namjoon lost a fight, so..’’ your smile and shake of your shoulder gave the younger boy relief as he moved further to settle beside you. Eyes beaming bright, he was up to say something. 

Probably something he shouldn’t. 

‘‘You gonna beat his ass, don’t you?’’ to-be whisper words coming out of the orange haired boy right beside, the older’s scoff towered behind you two. ‘‘As he took you to his match on Valentine’s Day. You must be angry.’’ 

Placing the big bag on the bench, beside Yoongi, you shake your head with a smile stuck on your mouth. While placing the cloths and couple of wires in the bag, you began. ‘‘Well, this is not the best way to be in on such a day but I’m not mad. I would be if he hadn’t won the match, but I’m not right now. Plus, are you mad at him because he took you to his match?’’ 

Before answering, Jimin leaned and put a not so light kiss to his boyfriend’s lip. Or his kinda boyfriend’s lips? You didn’t know, they were kind of weird about the whole relationship thing they had. For the last two years of your life, they were in an on-again, off-again relationship and this mainly caused Yoongi's fear of coming out by his closet. The very oh so famous businessman father of course wouldn’t let his son go all around the city with a man who had the most beautiful face that his highly known friends could see around his son’s arms, and god forbid Jimin sometimes wears so mini shorts and skirts that could get the said man have ultimate heart attacks. Mr. Min’s fear was probably beyond what you could think, and that’s why Yoongi never was able to come out and act the way his heart wanted. His father holds so much power in his palms. And Jimin sometimes was okay with this, and sometimes it was the opposite. So that’s why you weren’t so sure if this was a relationship right now. It was something, something cute, funny, deadly and very, very destructive. But something. 

‘‘He’ll watch mine after his so, it’s okay.’’ his giggle alarming yours, you both voiced out soft laughs to the air of the room. After a couple of words exchanging, the iron door opened without a crack or a force like it weighing nothing, and you know, who was behind it. And the idea flapped your stomach before even seeing his face. Even after two years, you still haven’t built up immunity to seeing him with bruises. 

Probably he had very few, but still. It played with your stomach. 

Though, it wasn’t easier being far away from him only to not see his bruises, marks that were left behind after the momentarily act of violence. The need was immediate after the ring bell. The need where you only want to hold him between your arms, protect him as much as you can from any kind of danger, and even though you weren’t built for that, he would let you to cover him for protection. Let you play your little game in your mind if that means you were happy. But the cruel pain would still affect you as seeing his skin blooming purples and reds never been an easy thing. Of course, only on him. 

Of course, the man that you had no idea about the name he had or the age he’s in, didn’t bother you. Not in the past, or the moments ago. It only fascinated you. A grand sample of the power Kim Namjoon has had in him. A staggering but not a bad reminder of your lover’s impact. 

‘‘Ready to see me, Moonlight?’’ the honey sound coming from deep in his throat, it’s enough to shake your breath. Torturing the skin above your bottom lip, you made the choice of turning your face to him, and the ache was rapid to crawl and sit heavy on your chest. 

He opened his arms to guard you from the acidic pain you will have all around your skin, you run right into the giant embrace. But, acid still manages to boil the poor skin. Whether in his embrace or not. It was just a tiny bit more comfortable way to burn in agony. Even though knowing the man who lost the fight was probably too damaged to get another strike, you just wanted to land a punch to his rival. 

Again, again, again, again, and yes, again-

‘‘Shh… you know I’m okay, right? I won. We won, Moonlight. Look at me.’’ swelled fingers lifting the chin, glossy eyes reflected from his. Every muscle working so hard not to cry, almost purple ish, slightly open wound on the corner of his lips didn’t help much. Cheekbone throbbing below the fingertips you covered on his face, you stand on your fingertips to smack a kiss. No word would be enough for you to soothe you both, more likely yourself. 

Or maybe, your voice would crack so hard that you wouldn’t be able to hold the persistent tears anymore and would cry out loud. Which you weren’t sure if that was a bad thing. 

‘‘Does… Does it hurt?’’ voice coming out raucously, you sniffed. Croons of his pupils curl so caringly as Namjoon’s heart is way too soft for your red buttoned nose. Too much for the image he holds. Smile creeping up with a morning sun swiftness, the warmness it spread is fast. Almost sweet as the first light of the first summer day, it heals you from inside a bit. Then, Namjoon shakes his head, leans a bit to capture you in a world lifting kiss like there is no one. Open-mouthed, saliva mixing under the sweet taste, your heart purrs as you receive the source of your addiction. His kiss, and the chubby lips were indeed addicting. 

Behind the fake coughs, you pull away as the last piece of air left your lungs. Space full of loud panting, staring continued. 

‘‘You see, I am great. Nothing hurts, unless you start to cry and leave me aching.’’ snort drawn out by you, Namjoon frowns as he is offended. You open your mouth to say something, but the older of the room forestalls. 

‘‘Okay, love birds. Shall we give you some privacy or can you lead this sticky sickness somewhere else?’’ Both of you focus on the man who speaks by turning your heads at him. He still stands half naked in the room, his body looks a bit red as he warmed his muscles before his fight. And they still hang broad and visible. 

But the reply won’t come from you or Namjoon-

‘‘Sickness? You were humping my leg minutes ago.’’ Jimin spats, vein throbbing ferociously on the side of his neck. 

‘‘That was different, they-’’ 

‘‘Different my ass!’’ orange hair sways from one way to the other, Jimin knits his brow. ‘‘You are only disgusted because they are in a committed relationship and your feckless ass can’t do that.’’ 

The mood change was so sudden that the smile on the corner of your lips faded so late. No one, especially Yoongi wasn’t waiting for this as his mouth parts, voiced breath drawn out. He just blinks and watches as Jimin throws a tee over his naked body, and furiously leaves the room by your side as murmuring a faint ‘sorry’. It has Yoongi stand stock-still for a couple of minutes before he goes after Jimin, running and yelling his name. 

As you said before, they were something. Something your mind couldn’t catch the mood swings. Happy for one minute, a total disaster the next. 

‘‘He’s gonna have his ass sore in the night.’’ against Namjoon’s bluntless, you punch his shoulder out of reflex. And he laughs. 

‘‘Okay, okay. Not saying anything.’’ his hand hangs on the air, a dark shade washes over his eyes as his smile turns wicked from sweet. And you know what just possessed him. Both because the familiar smirk, and being captured between him and the cold lockers. ‘‘Or, would you want your ass sore instead?’’ 

His light brown locks messed with the darker ones, forehead covered by a couple of them, he hovered over you. Breath hitching around the throat, him jamming you to the locked with his huge, muscled fighter body has you warm. A little bit too hot as you gulp loudly, nasty grin grows more. And you want it. Want him to smash you right on the cold metal and make you sore everywhere but someone could walk in. Just the same as you did to your friends. 

‘‘What’s wrong, Moonlight? Don’t you want to celebrate?’’ index finger on your cheek wondrously shakes you inside and out. Each draw of the slender skin has you gasping because that’s all you can over him. ‘‘Not so happy over our win?’’ 

A smile comes out in your breath, you shake your head while his leg finds a way between your legs. ‘‘Not- not because of that. Someone… someone might come-’’ 

‘‘And that would be a bad thing?’’ 

Lips parts, closes and parts again. Brush of his fat thigh on your skin feels too much, you blurt out a moan before you get your head together. The moment you saw him without any cover over his upper half on the cage, you wanted to have his way with you. The need was burning by the start of the night, every punch, every loud growl had been making it grow bigger and bigger and you were pulsing on the down below. If he had his way with you, you could even forget the fact that he had a fight on Valentine’s Day, but the side of your brain, the consciousness place was screaming otherwise. Not that you ever listened to it.  

Namjoon kissed again. 

It was only understandable of you to give in. As he is the Kim Namjoon, the one who knew so well about taking whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if it’s a fight, a place he wanted to get in, or you. He will get whatever he wants, and whenever. The taste on his tongue dancing sweet and thick down yours, you’d gladly stand defenceless. What can one do? He wanted it, and he got it. 

Kiss longs enough to choke you both, though he looks way unfazed comparing you, it broke apart. ‘‘This- this is not how I imagined spending Valentine’s with you.’’ chest heaving, you put your hands on his broad chest in case he tries to lean in. Not that it’ll affect him much, but… 

Namjoon’s brow knits while the ghost of his smirk wanders wide around his mouth. ‘‘Exactly. We need to do it, it’s Valentine’s Day-’’ he exclaims but you cut him immediately. 

‘‘Not in an ugly basement of some cage fighting thing going on!’’ 

He rolls his eyes with curled lips. ‘‘Like it would be the first time.’’ and you punch him this time. Hard enough to hurt because he deserved it. He laughs, claiming it’s only a joke and lands another but quick kiss. ‘‘Let me get clean and we can get out of here, okay? I may or may not have some plans.’’ then he won’t speak for feeling like eternity to you. No matter how many times you ask or whine what his plans are, he continues to hum the same song. He showers, the same hum on his lips, he changes into clean clothes while it still lingers. 

It is true that waiting sucks. It even more when the man you love so much keeps you waiting. You play with your phone until he is done with whatever he is doing, give some breaks only to huff and puff occasionally as both missing and curiosity fills too much of you. You know it’s not much as you both don’t like to be so fancy over anything, and don’t have so much to spend too. But whatever it is, it’ll make you so happy and thrilled because spending time with him always has you ecstatic. You were ecstatic the first time you saw him and have been till today. 

All the previous protests you held against your friend’s request of going to a cage fighting night had died the moment your eyes landed on him. Opposite to what Jungkook thought about you being petrified because of fear of all the bone crashing sounds, blood and violence, you weren’t. 

It was epiphany.  

Coming to a realization of the evil indeed could look beautiful, mesmerizing. Shouldn’t have been surprised so much as the evil itself is an angel, fallen or not. And it looked glorious in the cage, hiding under the skin of pink haired - brown locks were once pink and had undercut. - man who was beating the shit out of his rival in the cage. If he had that face when he lurked in the blood of the first one’s, you wouldn’t blame them for getting kicked out of the gates of heaven. It’s only natural to obey him, fooled by him. 

Even that moment, you knew he was everything. You knew you had to be with him, somehow. You craved his sweat covered body, his sinful fingers, parted lips to close them sweetly. 

His rage, his laser eyes, his flames-

The lust came before love, but they got along well. Falling in love felt like falling from the sky, and you were glad that you could understand how he felt years ago. The obscurity of it was terrifying, yet the thrill still beamed high. 

You were intoxicated by him, soothed by the tasty nectar of his apple. You were in love with him. And you were more than ready to be dismissed. 

‘‘Daydreaming again?’’ the man in his not so tight black jeans, matching boots and nothing more is now standing an arm length away, remains of shower still alive as his muscles and tattoos gleaming with the water drops. Air hitching around your throat, his smile beamed while he was busy drying his hair by a towel. ‘‘Bet you were thinking about me and what my plans are.’’ 

‘‘Cocky aren’t we?’’ a throaty laugh was his answer at your eye roll, a kiss you barely felt licked against your temple before he disappeared again to get fully clothed. A little bit of lying wouldn’t hurt him, but the truth about you thinking him twenty-four-seven would damage your pride so it was okay. Namjoon would not mind it, anyway. 

                                                                                                       ⋅＊⋆ ♥ ⋅＊⋰＊⋅ ♥ ⋅＊⋆ ⋅

The ride back home was a bit tough both for you two. Maybe more for him but if he wanted he could easily ease down your endless questions, but fortunately for both he didn’t. He hummed every question with a completely blank face, and chose to drive you wild. 

‘‘This is our way back home. We are going home?’’ 

A hum.

‘‘Are we going to the pub in the corner of our street? What was it, Bailey’s?’’ 

Another hum. 

‘‘You are not gonna tell me aren't’ you? This sucks, waiting sucks, you suck!’’ 

And there is the fucking hum and the laugh. He laughed at you like you were the one who acts hilarious. For the whole ride - and it was nothing more than twenty minutes but it felt like it - he hummed and laughed. Most of the questions were welcomed by silence, and the others died around your throat before even voiced out as well as your enthusiasm. Knowing he was doing this on purpose didn’t stop you from falling right into his game. Rather, you stuck in the middle of it and the struggle for going out pulled you even more. 

As they said, once you’re in the spider web, you fucked up. 

Well, you didn’t know who said it but it was true as you couldn’t get out of the bog of question and unknown. A nature you could call it, your curse. Being the absolute form full of curiosity and undying grudge you hold when you wouldn’t be able to get what you want. Maybe a bit spoiled as the other always called you, it never bothered you. What’s wrong with being a bit spoiled as long as you have what you wanted and didn’t hurt anyone? Well, at least the damages were not bad.

‘‘Home sweet home, huh? Hop off now.’’ it was direct when he stopped the engine of the car. Though, not rude. Namjoon could never be rude, and you know it better than anyone. Maybe he is in the cage, but that’s only natural. Cage was for animals, and he was one inside of the worn out metal. 

And again, you were angry. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me I guessed it right at the head of the ride. I could have suffered less, you know.’’ and you had all right to feel your blood raging inside your veins, jumping right and left. Slamming the ages old car’s door without having mercy on it, you act before him and hurried your steps into your apartment. One hand searching the bag for the now lost keys. Of course, you weren’t just angry because you were going to spend the night in your house, you loved being at home with him. You were half-serious, half-acting your rage as a revenge. 

‘‘Woah, now don’t take our anger out of my girl, huh. What do you say?’’ he was coming back at you, grin hide away. Namjoon always adored how you were the literal ball of anger. Looking from out, everyone could easily misperceive who was in the charge in this relationship, but when you were all alone with your demons lurking free, he was always too eager to bend the knee. 

Maybe he didn’t have to work hard to get you at first, as you were already too deep in him. Yet, he knew. He knew that he'd chase you until the end of the world and beyond only to be with you more. To be close to you. To be yours. 

He shamelessly eyed the shape of your hips while you were climbing the stairs, as it’d be dumb not to. Outraged echoes of your mud covered boots beaming all around the walls, he bite his lip hard. It was a shame not to just have you right here, right now, where everyone could easily see. Maybe another time-

Now, your reaction is more important for him, so he waits while you fight with your purse to find the key, opening the door of your shared apartment, and then stopping instantly. 

As the night only allows you to see so little thanks to the light that echoed by the street, your body leans on the other sense you had. The smell that you shouldn’t smell tangles around your nostrils, magically the taste finds a way to bloom above your tongue, watering all over your mouth and you turn your head at Namjoon who is not sharing the same confusion with you. Rather, he was smiling with brows lifted high. And it only lead you to think-

‘‘What did you do?’’ he laughed at you as waiting this reaction, pushing you inside to close the door behind you and him. 

When the lights on he whispers behind your ear, way too delighted. ‘‘What does it look like?’’ 

And then, they were the things that shouldn’t be in your living room. The not so big clothed table, having lots of ornate belongings that didn't belong to you. Black covering above the white table cloth, there were so many forks, spoons that you would never use. The combination of red roses and black candles made you sick on the stomach as you stood there, mouth hanging open, literal disgust in your feature. 

Turning your head once again, you faced the man who was biting his smile, hiding it behind a thin line. ‘‘What do you think?’’ he asks, although knowing the answer very well, Namjoon needs to hear it from your lips. The delight was shrouded under it. And before you can utter an answer, you give one look to the table, and then your lover’s expecting face. Words loading to your closed mouth, you pushed them to the air rather than swallowing down. 

‘‘It’s hideous, I loved it!’’ 

Running in the middle of the room to examine the table better, Namjoon follows from behind, a laughter on his throat. From up close, it looked even worse. The absolute cliche you never grew liking. But you loved it because it was also not fitting with the man who Namjoon was and it made all these things amusing. Yes, he was kind, caring and a romantic without acknowledging it but never like this. More likely, he would do things without any romantic motive in them and that's exactly the reason you fell in love with him. He never bought you roses, but you were growing so many plants that one can call it a garden. He never took you out to a fancy place for dinner or never, ever made a table like that but he did cook the best food you ever had in your life. 

As the room filled with the tasty smell of something, you were going to turn back to ask what was the cause of it but the broad weight capturing you between the fat arms, your question melted away. 

Small, semi-wet touch of kisses painting your neck, you grabbed the head of some chair. Lashes flutter shut, you lean a bit back and bare your neck for more. ‘‘It smells so good. What is it?’’ barely whispered words coming out of you, Namjoon kissed the crook in the back of your neck, creating a deep purple before popping the skin off and clearing his throat. 

‘‘It’s something you would love to eat, but before-’’ the sound of his pocket continued after his word died, fingertips occupying you by the play on your stomach, the barrier of your shirt already passed. Flutter of your lashes, you lean back and wait rather than asking him what he was up to, or when he gathered these cheesy atmospheres. Namjoon chose to not rush anything, taking his phone from his pocket, steadily, unrushed. As he had already prepared it, he only had to touch the play button and the music filled the room. 

‘‘Oh- NO!’’ the flip of your stomach was funny as the laugh popped out as a reflex. Familiar melody echoing through the ice blue walls, your body moves with the man behind you, simultaneously. Following his steps while taking little right and left, tiny touches of his lips continued as he giggled with you. 

She's a little pirate in my mind.

‘‘You gotta be kidding me, right?’’ things have you surprised as they were highly odd, not expected from the man who never does anything this obvious. And plus, this isn’t being romantic in your language, this was being cheesy for both of you and you have had no idea why he was doing these all of a sudden. 

Give her all the love she gives to me. Rather than replying to you, he go alongs with the song. 

‘‘Never felt this love from anyone’’ Namjoon nudges at the side of your neck with the tip of his nose before talking - not mimicking the song this time -. ‘‘Remember the song, yet? It’s from the time where we first gathered on the bar, you were there with your friend, staring deep into my soul?’’ 

A man can never dream these kind of things

Especially when she came and spread her wings

Whispered in my ear the things I'd like

Surely you remembered the day he was talking about, how could you forget it while you did wait for that moment to come for feeling like a lifetime after you first saw him inside the cage. All that sweaty caramel skin had glowed in your dreams, the image of his tightened muscles left you leaking for so many nights. Therefore, you obviously remembered the day when Jungkook stalked him to find his favorite place so you two could act like you were always hanging there - which it worked -. There was no use pretending you weren’t captivated by him, so you did stare at him too much. Until he had noticed you, asked for your number, and fucked you on your bed, wall, kitchen… Poor Jungkook for hearing all of them, though, you learned that he used them for his own pleasure, so you guessed it was a win - win situation. 

‘‘Well, you know I get what I want, so…’’ the laugh coming rough, almost reminding a growl on your neck, he turned you over so you can meet him in the eye. Now, back rubbing one of the chairs, his long bony fingers already wrapped above your cheeks, you did the exact thing from the day. Stare deep in him. 

Side of his lips curled high, he wets his lips. ‘‘Hope you will have the same courage later in the night.’’ the eyes of him digs in you cold and greedy, your gulp sounds loud. It has him laughing, not so loud ‘hah’ presents his pearly teeth. ‘‘Before you, we have other things to eat.’’ 

                                             ⋅＊⋆ ♥ ⋅＊⋰＊⋅ ♥ ⋅＊⋆ ⋅

As Namjoon told you the details that you were very oblivious to, you learned that he got Jungkook’s help to decorate your apartment, all the cheesy atmosphere related to your sweet valentine just because you grumble behind his back that he wasn’t romantic enough, - even though you couldn’t remember when - and obviously, he wanted to punish you by doing this. Well, he didn’t call this as punishment but for you, it was because the romantic words, the whole decoration was too sweet for the souls you two had. 

‘‘It’s good that Jungkook helped you out while we were at your fight, but you know that he won’t help you with the cleaning, right?’’ like a lightning just struck on him, the pastry fell on the plate. His puppy digits grow wide, you find it beyond cute. 

‘‘Then it’s good news that I have the most caring girlfriend by my side?’’ the shake of your head wears his smile off, as he betrayed. He will think better next time before covering the whole floor with rose petals, now. And you hide your giggle behind the delicious pastry that he baked by filling your mouth with it, as his whines loud. ‘‘After all of these, I guess it’s too much to wait for a thank you in return.’’ 

Nodding, you take another bite. ‘‘Cream cheese mixes with the apricots way better than I thought.’’ he watches your struggle to lick the remains of the cream, so he leans and cleans the corner of your lips with his thumb. Brain freezes for a couple of minutes as his tongue curls around the thumb, leaving nothing behind. ‘‘Why- erm- why the apricot danish, though?’’ 

He leans closer, elbows rest on the table as the voluptuous eyes lure in you, stomach makes a funny flip at the way his stare goes between your eyes and the now chewed lips. Voice low and rough, it’s enough to have you clenching your walls. 

‘‘I wanted you to experience how it feels to eat me, as I always do the eating out.’’ unnecessarily bold words has you gasping, crumbles of the pastry goes to the wrong pipe and you almost choke. 

Wine nearly dries off when you clash the glass to your mouth, drinking it to ease the coughing. Namjoon watches all of these very calm, grin sneaky on his mouth. The back of his head was busy with what he prepared for later that night, in your bedroom. 

While you were still dizzy with the image of tonight's fighting, the duality he was showing was whirling your head, tongue feels lull, eyes burning from behind. And you loved how he makes you weak in and out. A toy at the end of his words. You pressed your thighs together to reduce the ache, and it barely helped. All you can think of is now his sweat glistening muscled back, your nails adding sweet crimsons to the palette, tongues ferociously devouring each other, breaths loud enough for your neighbour to hear as he takes you down-

‘‘S-so, you are the desert itself?’’ 

As the images flashing behind your head having you too hot, you had to cut it with blurting out the first thing that related to the topic but away enough to get you cold, again. Though, your voice did come out weird, high and distracted. 

Amusement tangled on the line of your boyfriend, his smirk only adds gasoline to your fire. And you visibly could see the reflection of the sharp edged flames by his eyes. To your liking, he didn’t force more and nods while explaining.

‘‘Well, you always refer to my dimples as apricots and we can agree that my personality kind of bittersweet as the cheese cream and when you mix them-’’ he abruptly stops and opens his hands in front of his face, resembling a blooming flower. ‘‘Voila! A complete pastry that you can enjoy.’’ Suspicious enough, his features change. As innocent as he can, he looks at you with wide, shining orbs and the man who teases you, almost chokes you down with his words now nowhere to be seen. Like he was never there at first. And this was exactly what was fucking you up every time his duality slips. Like he wasn’t the one who was breaking bones as they were chips, washing the scarlet down from his flesh, mounting behind you like he was the animal. Would growl, bite the thin skin over your neck so severely that it would bloom purple and yellow for the whole week and maybe more- 

This time, to capture your slipped attention, Namjoon had to wave his hand inches away from your blushed face. You had to swallow down hard as the cock of his brow openly, showing that he knew exactly what your dirty mind was busy with. And the tongue poking his cheek from inside always enough to have you drooling, as the air is getting thick and bothering you have to drink another sip of wine. 

‘‘Clear as glass, your mind can’t stop thinking what I can and will do to you. So, I want to make it obvious that at least one of us tried to be kind today.’’ the index finger pointing himself, he smiled one more time before his eyes went deep black. Shaking you in and out. And your mind wandered around the thought of you getting under the table just so you could hump on his leg as long as he lets you. But the tone of his coming words warned you before you can lose on the thought. ‘‘Now, I want you to go in there, and wait for me. That’s something you can do?’’ 

Behind your fluttering eyelids, your eyes trailed where his finger pointed, the mutual bedroom, and back his face. As the tone and the words enough for you to understand who was sitting in front of you now wasn’t just Namjoon. 

He was the Chopper. 

Merciless, brutal, bruising. 

The Chopper and his killer hands, choker fingers, cutting teeth. 

Everything you wanted and more. Everything you can’t even dream of. 

‘‘Y-yes. Yes, I can do that, Master.’’ the name enjoys the man, he feels proud that you can go into submissiveness even before he says much. In the end, he did train you for that, and he did it well because now, you are on your feet, walking further to the room he pointed by tripping over your shoe just once. 

It’s another whiplash for you to go into your room and find a black hook, secured to your ceiling after you turn the lights on. It wasn’t there before, was it? You’d have known if you had something like that on your ceiling because weird as ever, you stare there too much. Whether when you were overthinking or just dazed upon. Shaking your thoughts away, you forced yourself to focus on the hook again. Because obviously, it wasn’t the best time to think what you were doing in your seperate time as you had a fucking hook over your head, and a Master inside. 

‘‘That’s right.’’ well, he wasn’t sitting on the table inside like you guessed as his breath is tickling behind your ear. ‘‘I will hang you there, in the middle of our room, all tied up, helpless, and then-’’ with the connection of his skin on your sides, not so high from your hips, you shut your eyes and leaned back. He grabs your skin hard enough to draw a whimper, before continuing. ‘‘Eat your pretty cunt until you cry, overwhelmed. Then, gonna fuck you again, again and again, for you to cry even more. How that sounds, pet?’’ 

The last part putting chills all over your skin, you tremble under his embrace. Voice so controlled, husky, dizzying that your knees ready to give up just from that. Years after, the impact of his words never faded. 

‘‘Sounds… s-sounds good, Master. Sounds so good.’’ even though knowing you shouldn’t, your hands at your side, burns with the need of holding him close so you can brush your ass over his crotch to get a friction. It feels so empty, and that can push you into a stage where it drives you mad. ‘‘Please-’’

‘‘As a pet, don’t you think you talk too much even though no one asks you anything?’’ 

It hits as sharp as a whip to the gut, with the shame of making your Master angry, you feel like crying. But you only nod and utter certain words. ‘‘Yes, Master. I’m sorry.’’ 

Then, everything starts and goes so smoothly. The acts are unrushed, familiar, thrilling in a way that your stomach feels like a cheerleader and doing some flips over and over again. It even causes another rush of dizziness to you more. You’ve got used to feeling his hands on you, on the skin, so elegant yet enough to break, but against his smooth touch, the rope now covering your body, restrains your arms on your back in a very aesthetic way, has your heart fluttering its wings.  

His silent grunt reaches your ears weakly when he finishes with the last knot, and now you are bare as ever, helpless, and in his mercy. 

Before he talks, his kiss on the neck is full of lusciousness. ‘‘Just one last step, and then you will be my dessert for tonight.’’ nothing higher than a whisper, his words have you gasping. Nowhere on your body left unaffected by the sinister’s great word play. Behind your back, Namjoon’s eyes are going deeper and darker, stars glowing with lust in them, and you don’t need to see them to know it. Witnessing and memorizing the reactions, the actions of his body came at the same time with the hasty need you had for him, and it goes for both of you. 

So, when he finally finishes with you tied and hanged, you know his tongue rolled over his sharky-white teeth. 

‘‘Does anything bother you, baby? Something too tight, or loose maybe?’’ 

Safety is the thing Namjoon values much, even though you love it when he loses control and attacks you like an animal in bloodlust, you still stop and check yourself. Floor is a ghost for your toes, barely there for you to hold on to, everything seems fine when you try to escape, writhing in the trap of him, purposely trying to hurt yourself by the ropes but nothing hurts. At least nothing hurts that much because you like it when things hurt. Especially the thing standing behind your back, hovering over you, touch of his lips wet and affectionate on the flushed skin.  

Finally, Namjoon gets his answer. ‘‘Nothing hurts, Master. Thank you.’’ 

And he laughs at that. Not too much but enough to draw a sound between his teeth. ‘‘Always so good, so grateful to his Master, aren’t you little pet?’’ a tiny slap on your bare asscheek and you answer him with a breathy yes, master. 

Namjoon’s fingers move slowly, like in an exploration. First on your shoulders, nail drawing red where it touches, a thin line of tiny bruises. It goes all the way down from your shoulders to your hips, plays around the rope where it slightly covers your breast, capturing them in their own triangle shaped ropes. When he stops to draw circles inches high between your legs, you jerk your hips and that causes you to lose your balance. 

‘‘We are so responsive today.’’ he chuckles but it dies with the bite of his nails on the same spot as he positions you back. ‘‘So out of manners, can’t even stay still for Master. You are being useless like this, and I don’t like to play with a pet that has an empty skull. But you already know it, don’t you?’’ 

His nails are still digging your skin, it brings tears to your eyes and you nod. ‘‘I-I know, I’m sorry.’’ 

‘‘Apologizing won’t work if you continue to act like a ill-behaved toy.’’ to underline his anger, he lands another slap on your ass but this time it burns. And it takes all your effort to not writhe under it. 

‘‘I won’t do it again-’’ 

Another hit encourages your first tear to roll over to leave a wet trail on your face. Skin burning, itching, but all you feel is ecstasy to have more. To him, you shouldn’t enjoy it when he tries to punish you for not behaving right, but you can’t help it. Every strike, every killing hit brings shameless joy in you and you just can’t get enough. 

His octopus tattooed hand grabs over the bruised skin. ‘‘Are you enjoying this? Did I corrupt you that much, Puppy?’’ he snickers, teeth biting the flesh of your neck and you let your head rest on his shoulder. A similar smile tugs on your mouth, another tear goes down. 

‘‘I love it when Master hurts me. It feels too good.’’ 

Sounds sick, but there is no use of hiding the truth. Licking over the bite he gave you, Namjoon replies with the remain of his smile appearing on his words. ‘‘Oh, I know that baby. I know how you look stunning in red. All smiley with tears.’’ 

You giggle as his fingers go lower, playing with the skin of your slit. Though, you stay still. No matter how much it tickles when your blood rushes over there, even when his finger finds your needy clit. Already throbbing in bliss, you stay still. Though, even when he says you shouldn’t move, he likes to make a trembling mess out of you. Maybe it’s wrong to feel, but your tears give him unbearable joy. If the cry was caused by him, though. Otherwise, he could fuck up if someone even cause your lip to tremble which he proved that, many times. 

With hands tied up behind, you have too little mobility. Plus, your toes barely touch the floor, so even when he starts to rub your clit, you can only thrash as a response. Moaning after every rude circle, the heat was building fast and heavy in your stomach. Soft kisses on your neck turn into wet ones, and include his teeth. Available other hand goes up to hang around your breasts, toying around the now hardened buds, pulling when you least expect, and earning another choked moan. 

His very clothed body against your naked one creates a big contrast, a visible sample to show who is in charge, but you can feel how ready he is behind his clothes, his groin hard and furious as he rubs it on your hips with controlled movements. And every rub remanding how empty you are, his fingers above your clit making it even worse as it builds the sweet coil inside, inches high from your stomach. 

Pushing your hips back, you pleaded, voice all broken. ‘‘Feels.. feels so empty. P-please fill me, Master.’’ 

His fingers at your entrance, plays with your mind to believe he would push them in. You gasp as he just pushes his thick digits inches, mocks you with a laugh as he takes them back right away. 

‘‘Asking so cute and docile, yet you will feel that a bit more.’’ 

And you whine loud, not in a rebellious way but much like in need. Which, that is what you are, a needy mess as you were dreaming of him from the start of this day, seeing him half naked, angry, in an act of violence, drenched in sweat. Today was a torture, and Namjoon contunied the ruthless game. Rubbing, pulling, twisting every tender spot, your nipples, clit, inside your thighs, over your stomach. Every inch of you tortured, played by him, and it was going to continue as you heard a rustle behind you. His hands stopping on your thighs, he sighs. 

‘‘Fuck, my pet looks so tasty, all wet and ready.’’ your walls dripping, Namjoon licks his lips as the sight has him hungry. The pink skin nearly drooling in front of his sight, he was beyond ready to eat you, drink everything you give.

Like a starved man, on his knees, he takes a lick from you. The taste whirling his head, he growls, holding you tighter in his palms while you try to chase his tongue. Sob so agonized as it leaves your lips. 

But when his tongue finally finds the throbbing core, in relief and heat you let your head fall back. Wanting to clench your palms but the robes won’t let it as he tied some of your fingers, too, only to leave you more desperate. So you whine even more when his tongue pokes your insides, not entering but enough to shake your legs, swirl your head and to lose your breath into the room. Humiliating as ever, every swirl of his tongue pulls another cry, another tear, and his name the only thing that spills from your lips. 

Mind blinded by one thing. And it’s just The Chopper. 

His hot tongue. 

Tickling hair. 

Bruising hold.

Bite over your skin, here and there had you whimper repedately. The rich ardor boiling high, ready to explode as he circles, and circles, and circles his tongue over your clit- 

His lips lock around the frantic nub- 

And it causes you to lose yourself in the consuming delight, coming on his face as he starts to suck your clit. Toes curling, thighs trembling as the sharp euphoria boils in your veins, blood pumping faster as your eyes go behind your head. 

But Namjoon won’t stop until he catches every drip, sucking the spent bud, pushes you to the edge of overstimulation and your cries won’t work, either. 

‘‘Please, please, Master please,’’ is all you can say without even knowing what you were begging for. 

Which this is all you losing control more and more, limbs going weak, head dibs into the thick, blurry stage where the only thing you want is Namjoon. The only thing you need, the only thing you feel covered by him and you fell into the substage where he has you in his palm. To use it on behalf of both you and himself. To bring joy in your submissive brain with his domineering talks, touches, attacks. You were coming down from your first high, but already lost on the sensation where everything just started. The Chopper’s tongue cleaning the remains of your climax off your inner thighs, he gets on his feet after leaving two specific bruises, red and purple, by sucking the flesh hard and deep. 

‘‘I made you come but you still beg for more? One high isn’t enough for a slut like you, hm?’’ next, his fingers shove into your hair, pulling by the roots rough. ‘‘Nothing enough unless you have my cock in you, you greedy bitch.’’ 

Words nothing but like slaps landing on your face, your breath hitches under your moan. It should feel wrong to get off on hearing these, but the words throbs where you need the most. 

Fist to the gut, but the pain that comes with it is a bliss. 

Vulgar, yet caring your needs like a feather on the skin. 

Shady, vehement, maybe even tainted but you can’t stop loving that it cuts your heart and brings wings out of the wounds. It may be bleeding, but bandages have flowers on them. 

On your toes, it has all your effort but you manage to push your ass high, right on his crotch to tease, touches nothing more than a wind on the hair, you still giggle as he grunts and pulls your head back. The angle wicked as your neck looks like it’s going to give up, you whimper low by the pain. 

Sick smile still tugged on your mouth. ‘‘Yes, yes that’s true. Your pet is all empty, needy. Need you to mark her like you would mark your territory, Master. Your pet needs your cum on her.’’ maybe it is because of the words you just said, or the pout on your lips, Namjoon growls like an animal, hands grabbing every available flesh, pulling, clawing as he wants to tore your skin off and reach your soul to corrupt it visibly like he didn’t break you already. 

Then he bites down the skin between your neck and shoulder, enough to draw blood. 

‘‘My territory?’’ he spits. He sounds outraged, and even though you said things enough to get him angry, the shade of joy is still in his tone so you know he also likes how you provocate him. ‘‘Well, after all a pet should be treated the way it deserves.’’ 

Humiliation burns hot red, you squirms at the words. A need of holding on to something is increasing in you as after coming down by your high never stopped being tiring. With him, it’s like you feel everything ten times harder, deeper, and undoubtedly better. However, it only causes you to want more, never having enough of the things he gives. And you had a whole night to consume one another. 

When he talks, you see his reflection on your dressing mirror by the corner of your eyes. His hand ready above his belt, lewdness lingers on his smirk. And he looks gorgeous, hovering behind you, huge and sturdy. If you weren’t held by these ropes, your knees would give up many minutes ago. 

‘‘As we are animals tonight, shall we continue our hunt?’’ shaking you from head to toe, he truly looks like a predator with the gaze of a wolf, ready to eat you whole, make a feast out of you. Remains of your ecstasy shines when the light hits his face. A very graphic proof that he is out for hunting. Already captured his prey, and now there is only one thing left to do. 

To devour. 

As he finally releases his dick, it hangs angry and gigantic. The head in a deep red, shows how much he needs to come, it’s already wet, nearly dripping. In awe, and hunger, you watch him kicking his pants aside, taking everything off and leaving himself naked as you. With that, more of his tattoos reach your eyes as they go up and down. Sizing him up like you never see him, truly naked, looking like a partly completed palette with his body covered with so many colors. So many figures, numbers, blacks, reds, blues… 

Having so many things, he creates his noble singularity. Becoming a very special piece of his own. 

A mouth watering sight. All those muscles, buffy chest, eyes that have a hold of your soul, you leak even more. Though, he stays there, enjoys the way you watch him hungrily, as he strokes himself with slow moves. Eyes crossing each other’s paths on the mirror and he cocks a brow before letting his head fall back as he continues to stroke himself. 

His dimples out but from biting his lower, thinned lip and the taste of the pastry he baked blooms at once, covering all over your tongue as you want to dive it in his dimples, cover them wet with sloppy kisses. The thirst distinguishes itself once again. Murky and strong that you have to clench your walls, emptiness drives you mad more as he just continues to pleasuring himself while you literally hang from your ceiling, dirtying all over your carpet with how much you leak desperately. 

As expected, one low keen whimper by him is all it takes for you to let everything aside and submit to his merciless game. Fluttering like a fish on a net, you beg without holding nothing, tears streaming hot and fast. 

‘‘Namjoon, Master, please-... just please can you please fuck me? Please I need this, I need you, please?’’ 

‘‘Oh, was I too intense, maybe?’’ even though he asks as he worries, he still has that goddamn smile while placing himself behind you. Brush of his red skin to your damp pussy has you choke on your breath immediately. The loss of the contact affected you more than you realised and now having him so close feels just like heaven. Or hell. You didn’t care as long as he was there with you, to hold you close, kiss you sloppy, and fuck you like he hates you. 

Nothing mattered as long as you had him. 

Lips over your earlobe, you drip more right on his shaft between your legs. Pulse drums right over the skin where he touches you, teases you, like it’s all your body is waiting for. 

‘‘As you wished, now I will fuck you, darling.’’ teeth licking the skin with a faint press, his fingers go down to adjust himself. He fixes his bulge between the pink lips, not entering but it’s enough for him to rub his dick with what you were leaking, wetting himself to ease the act. 

But after every slow grind, your insides clenches with anticipation, waiting for the damaging push and the frustration grows more and more as you wiggle in his hold. It’s not a surprise how delirious you are just from not having him inside, as the need always wins with its whole glory over every other sense you have. Leaving you completely brainless when things come to the point where you are so desperate to have him in you that you would go on your knees and beg your lungs out for it. Of course, the sex is good, but with Namjoon it’s never only because of it. It’s the way you feel complete, leaving the worries behind and letting yourself completely at his hands. It’s always much better when you have nothing to decide because Namjoon will do that for you, like you couldn’t handle it, like your mind was too useless that he has to deal with everything, and will bring unbelievably severe pleasure with that- 

A sudden pull of his arms tears you away from your thinking. Your back hits his chest, hands settling on your hips as he starts to move further. Filling you full with one move, steady and unrushed. It takes him a couple minutes to fill you wholly as the length meets with your clenching walls inches and inches deeper. 

With every inch, he stretches you more, moans spilling as a mantra by your lips mixed with thank’s and broken Namjoon’s. Eyes rolled back, your heart goes insane in it’s cage, as the feeling of being finally full is the best thing that happens to you, tears of happiness go down one by one. 

Every nerve goes into a very brief shock after meeting with him, muscles strains and eases for a couple of times before he stops fully deep in you. 

‘‘Fuck! You feel so good, so soft, baby.’’ Namjoon hisses, waits only to feel you clenching and unclenching around him. Gives you a minute for you to adjust his length, not wanting to hurt you more than you need. Yet, you barely have a limit for that shit. Like a parrot who doesn’t know what to say other than ‘more’, you always end up repeating it. 

Without spending more time, when he convinces himself that you are ready and on edge from waiting as you cry nonstop for him to move, have his way with you, he does. A long, impelling push steals the breath you had in your lungs, pulling a croaked moan as he doubles his move. Slow rhythm of his stomach meeting with the swell of your ass, the sound of your soaked pussy reacting every push with a desperate squelch, you shut your eyes. 

Nails digging in your skin, it won’t take long for him to fasten. Unrushed grindings turn into famished jams as he shoves himself deep. Burning breath right behind your neck, he sucks the skin until it blooms red from the torment of his teeth, licks the throbbing flesh but not with intention to soothe. 

‘‘Look at you in the mirror, pet.’’ behind his clenched teeth, he commands. ‘‘See how spent...you... look. Just like a dirty cockslut you are,’’ every word coming after a rough pound, they are also as remorseless as his movements. Not giving you a minute to actually look at your reflection, and as much as you see, drool dripping by your lips, makeup ruined by tears, body all red and tormented, you really do look spent. Feel also as your limbs are still lazy after the first orgasm you had. But the rude push only excites you more, delicious high builds once more as every nerve wracking slam gets you wetter. 

Then, his hands leave your hips. One of them finds your throat, the other goes over your mouth, fingers dipping inside without permission. ‘‘Suck.’’ is all he says, harsh and demanding. And you do. 

Tongue curling around the two thick digits as it was his dick instead. Lips sucks hard while you circling your starved muscles around them. More you suck it, lapping your tongue around it, you drool more. Wet patch goes all over your chest from your throat, passing his hand around it. His pace not coming down even for a bit, digits leave your mouth and find your swollen nipple. 

Damp wrap brings chill over your torso, he pinches the poor skin as harsh as his slams. You howl, wiggle in his hold but he stops you with one wild squeeze on your throat. Cutting your breath as he continues assaulting your walls. 

‘‘This is what you’ve been waiting for the whole night, right pet?’’ you try to look at his face but all you see is a blurry sight as the tears won’t let more from that. Though, you are still able to see the way he moves fast. Fast and brutal. The sound of skin hitting skin smacks on the walls, deafens you. ‘‘Hanging around my cock because that’s the only thing you are good at. Being fucked by me, until you stand boneless, brainless, hm?’’ 

You open your mouth to give him an answer but fingers tightening around the darkening skin, only a strangled grunt leaves the lips. 

‘‘Sorry, couldn’t hear it.’’ he says with a wicked smile, biting his bottom lip as he quickens his moves. Hand only loosens when your face turns purple and coughs follow one another. When he lets you breathe, you cough even more as the air burns acidic in your lungs. His fingers pinching, pulling the aching nipples, hand heavy around your throat has you on alert, slams getting more and more deep, angled hitting right on the soft pooled nerves. You found yourself on the edge of another maddening rhapsody. 

Thighs trembling furiously, you try to close your palms mindlessly, clenching your walls around him as he growls low. 

‘‘’M gonna c-cum… S-shit, I-’’ 

Throat trapped in his palm once again, his fingers finds your swollen clit, his impale focused on your sweet spot, he pinches your clit, ‘‘Then cum. Drip all over my cock, slut.’’ he says, pushing you from the edge of the luscious high. 

And you find yourself thrashing, tears filling your mouth, yes, yes, yes’s irritating your own ears as the seventh heaven welcomes you from it’s door. It takes long for you to come from your high as Namjoon continues his brutal actions. Cutting your breath, fucking you merciless, biting down every spot he finds available. Your nerves locked, mind foggy and body tender to any kind of interaction, with three deep, hurtful smack after Namjoon spills white. 

Grunts by his lungs, he fucks his cum into you. Until overstimulation feels too much for himself, he doesn’t mind how loud you cry for him to stop. Because now, everything is beyond feeling sensitive. Every poke of his dick just puts hundred needles on your skin, as you hiccup, saying it’s too much. 

Then with one light smack, he stops. Panthing behind, he stays inside of you, arms covering your body tight in an affectionate embrace. He kisses your neck, down your shoulders, over every mark he left by biting. And with every contact, your body reacts to it by shaking in his hold. Mouth lull, mind too dizzy to voice anything, he grabs your chin to turn your head. 

A soft smile is all you can see behind your tears as he leans to capture your lips in his, ‘‘Happy Valentine’s, my sweet Moonlight.’’ then he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. Tongues curl around one another, drool mixing, lips smacking repeatedly, you whimper as the sensation comes too much. 

After a rough fuck, your mind - and of course your body - finds this affection bizarre and reacts by melting under it. And it goes so long that his lips never leave yours while he sets you free from the hook, torso still tied by the rope but now you sit on his lap, losing yourself into a rousing kiss session. His fingers go up and down on your stomach, sometimes lingers around your nipples to hitch your breath. And it goes on like this until you two burn with need once again. Hard and ready for another all-consuming bliss as he helps you to ride him. 

Holds you by the waist, circles your hips on him as his head rests on the pillow. 

‘‘H-harder. Master please, I need m-more…’’ sobs won’t let you talk more, Namjoon smirks at that. Fingers grabbing you tighter, as he holds you high. 

‘‘Can’t even talk but still cries for more. Tch, always starving for Master’s cock.’’ 

Answering him by nodding, he won’t wait long to fuck you ruthless. Bouncing you on his cock, you mewl, mewl and mewl until he changes the positions to push himself deeper in you. Knees hitting your shoulder, he goes so deep that your eyes roll back until he stops his movements. Your cunt clenched around him to hold him inside, it has him coming thick and lot. Brushing his finger around your clit, rubbing and pulling the wasted bud, you come around him before he goes soft. Panting loud, desperate as everything feels too much, too strong, too surreal. 

So, when Namjoon finally lays beside you, hand patting your hair while he adjusts his breathing, you try to stop crying. 

‘‘Are you okay, baby girl?’’ he asks, a kiss to your temple. Freeing your face from your tears, you see the concern buried deep in his eyes. ‘‘Let me untie you, okay?’’ 

Nodding, you let him pull you on your ass. ‘‘I’m okay… It was just intense.’’ smile wandering on your lips, you continued. ‘‘And amazing. Don’t worry okay? I really do love when you go harsh on me. It was… fascinating.’’ 

Namjoon laughs at your face, all flushed and dreamy like you were still in the heat of your sex. Setting you free from the last knot, he kisses every mark that rope left behind, helps you to move your muscles, clench and unclench your palms to fasten your blood circulation. 

‘‘It’s like you want me to tie you like this all the time, love.’’ Namjoon cocks his brow high, as the smile still lingers on your mouth. 

‘‘Would you?’’ answer coming so fast and full of hope, he has to laugh at your eagerness. You, indeed, would love him to hang you from your ceiling all the time. As you said to him, it was intense, mind-blowing, and you did like it so much. 

Shaking his head, he laughs once again. ‘‘You need to eat some sugar, then we can talk about… this. Okay?’’ he points the hook, you nod at him with a pout on your lips, But he leans and kisses it, massaging your arms. Then he stops abruptly, eyes go wide. 

‘‘Shit. I forgot to water my plants.’’ he then jumps from the bed and rushes to the corner where he kept his plants. 

Rolling your eyes, you let yourself fall on to bed. ‘‘Of course you did.’’ you mumble, watching your boyfriend spraying water at his plants, humming to himself with a heart melting smile tugged on his face. Duality causes you to giggle on your own. There the man who made you choke on your spit moments ago, now with all the care he has, he waters his plants. All naked, and happy. 

Tiny jealousy in your heart, you close your eyes to listen to him humming a song that comes familiar but you are so tired that you can’t find the name. Stretching your arms with all the power you had, as Namjoon talks to his plants with a soft voice. 

‘‘I know it took so long…’’

‘‘Look how grown you are…’’

‘‘Oh, guess we need to change your place, huh?’’ 

You sigh deep, a tiny giddy sense blooms in your chest while your boyfriend’s voice licks behind your ears. A warm smile grows on your face, you think,

Happy Valentine’s, indeed.