#this kiss has so many layers to it and i could discuss for HOURS

[cissa-calls]

Agatha choosing to face death in an intimate confrontation. A woman so standoffish, who keeps everyone at arms length both emotionally and physically because her body recognizes how familiarity leads to hurt; she chooses to greet and intiate death in a way entirely contrary to her nurturing. Whether you believe this was their first or final kiss, Agatha wanted her last act to be a declaration that she was unafriad of what everyone characterized her as: alone.

[parfaitblogs]

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 

"What's this?" 

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 

"Then yes," you breathed out. 

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 

"Am I boring you already?" 

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 

"Fuck, Spencer." 

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Beneath the Bookshelves | BakuDeku 🌶

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya 💋

Summary: A humble repost of my work b/c I think this one flew a lil under the radar when I posted a few months ago! It's Class A's 3rd year at UA, and Bakugo & Izuku are 18 years old. Katsuki and Izuku have been hot for each other for years, but have never discussed it. Katsuki asks Izuku to accompany him to the library during finals week, and the two do some *studying* amongst the shelves.

Genre: Smut, Romance, S*xual Tension

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, hand jobs, dirty talk, teasing

💕Link to My Master List 💕

Beneath the Bookshelves

“Hey, nerd. I need something from the library – let’s go.”

Katsuki is leaning against the doorframe of Izuku’s dorm room, arms crossed. It’s a Saturday evening towards the end of the semester, so most of their classmates are in their rooms studying or training for the practical exams. Up until this moment, Izuku has had his head buried in his math textbook, trying desperately to wrap his mind around quadratic equations. He was just thinking about texting Ida or YaMomo for help when Katsuki appeared.

“Oh, hey Kacchan.” Izuku says brightly, looking up at his friend. Over the past 3 years of school, Katsuki has really filled out. He’s less wiry, more muscular and solid. His jawline is more defined than ever, and now sports a soft layer of blonde stubble. His mouth is set in its typical hard line, a sure sign that the young hero is in a bad mood. Izuku’s stomach does a summersault as he pries his eyes away from Katsuki’s soft cupids bow. “For sure, I could use a break. What do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get going.” Katsuki jerks his head in the direction of the library and Izuku scrambles up to stow away his math books before following along. They walk through the dorm and out onto the quad in silence, Izuku looking at his friend quizzically.

It’s a nice night out – the stars sparkle up above them and a light breeze dances through Izuku’s recently cut hair. He’s feeling nostalgic as he looks at Katsuki walking ahead of him, watching as his friend angrily stomps towards the UA library building up ahead. How many times have they walked like this – Katsuki marching irritably, Izuku a few paces behind? He smiles softly as they cross the library’s threshold and the warm light of the building bathes them both in gold.

At this hour of night, the library is practically devoid of life. The only soul in the space appears to be the elderly librarian who sits sorting books at the front desk. They nod at her as they make their way towards the stairs and to the upper floors. Izuku pauses at the second floor, looking towards the math section. It’s their first final, so naturally he assumes that’s the sector Katsuki needs to visit. But he’s wrong – Katsuki rolls his eyes at Izuku and continues to stomp up the next flight of stairs. They continue like that – up, up, up until they are at the fifth floor.

The fifth floor of the library is an area Izuku hasn’t spent much time exploring. It’s where all of the oversized books are kept – the art books, the cookbooks, the graphic novels. It’s a space that, unfortunately, the Hero Course students don’t get to frequent. Sure, he’s taken a liberal arts course or two at UA, but the Hero course does not put much emphasis on the arts or culture. So Izuki is surprised when he sees how easily Katsuki navigates the floor and its various rooms, booths and study sections. It’s as if he’s been coming here consistently over the past three years.

The explosion hero leads Izuku to the back of the floor, past a few study rooms and rows of books. Finally, Katsuki looks over his shoulder at Izuku to ensure he is still close behind. The green haired boy is surprised to see a slight blush of embarrassment heating up his friend’s face. Katsuki stops in the architecture section, taking care to push a large shelf slowly to the side. Izuku is surprised when the shelf reveals a small, secret alcove hidden amongst the rows of books. There’s a red cushioned loveseat hidden amongst the shelves. Art and architecture books line the space floor to ceiling. An All Might plush blanket is folded across the side of the couch, and as Izuku enters the space he notices a few pictures and mementos stashed here and there within the shelves. It’s shockingly private and cozy.

“What is this place, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, running a finger along the book spines closest to him. Katsuki rearranges the loose shelving unit, effectively sealing them into the cozy space. Izuku is suddenly hyperaware of how alone they are. He feels Katsuki staring at his back, and a faint flicker of arousal zings up his spine.

“This is where I come to study and get away from all the damn distractions of the dorms.” Katsuki says, deliberately not looking at Izuku as he sits down on one of the loveseat cushions. Izuku looks back over his shoulder and drinks in his friend – Katsuki is sitting comfortably, his long legs crossed casually on the couch. He’s wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a tight fitting black band tee. He looks so casually gorgeous that Izuku feels his heart flutter up to his throat.

“I always wondered where you went off to when we had group study sessions.” Izuku says thoughtfully, peering over to look at a photo of Katsuki and All Might from their first Sports Festival. All Might is grinning and posing – giving the camera two thumbs ups. Katsuki is chained to the podium, the gold metal from the festival clutched in his angry jaws. Izuku reaches out a finger to trace across the photo, touching the photo Katsuki’s harsh jawline. He chuckles before turning back to his friend. “This place is awesome! You deserve a quiet spot with solitude. I know how annoyed you get when everyone is noisy.”

“Yeah. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it.” Katsuki grins, referring to his ability to yell and be a dick around their friend group.

“Thanks for showing me this place.” Izuku sits down next to him on the couch. He’s hyperaware of how his hand is just inches from Katsuki’s. “So what do you need? Did you forget a book here or something?”

Katsuki shifts uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I’ve been really stressed about exams lately. And this being our final year at UA, I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure.”

Izuku nods, he’s definitely been feeling the same way. The pressure and expectations of the future are weighing heavily on all of their shoulders this year. They are Class A – the class that defeated Shigaraki. The class that helped win the war. There are expectations for each of them – they are the new symbols of peace. At times, it feels like the weight of the world is resting upon their young shoulders.

“I understand.” Izuku says empathetically. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ve been having similar feelings lately as we start to wrap up our first semester as third years.”

“There’s just so much happening right now. I wish I could slow everything down. Do some things over.” Katsuki is deliberately avoiding Izuku’s gaze now. He’s shifting uneasily in his seat, his hip accidentally bumping Izuku’s.

“What would you do over?” Izuku asks blankly. Katsuki ignores him.

“I brought you here because I kinda want to blow off some steam, and you’re the only one who I want to do it with.” Katsuki says, a rosy red blooming in his pale cheeks.

Izuku’s not sure if he’s hearing correctly. Katsuki’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and Izuku can’t imagine how they would possibly “blow off steam” in the cramped quarters of Kacchan’s hidden library den. Unless…?

Izuku turns to his friend, confused. “What do you - ?” But he’s cut off when Katsuki grabs him by the collar and pulls him into a searing kiss. Izuku did not anticipate this, and so he’s caught by surprise. He tumbles backwards with the force of Katsuki’s momentum and ends up awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. Katsuki is half on top of him and getting as close as humanly possible. His mouth is hot and wet and impossibly soft as it moves against Izuku’s with a ferocity that only Katsuki can dish out.

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to recover and then respond enthusiastically, throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck and winding fingers into his soft blonde hair. Katsuki is kissing him desperately, mouth moving and sliding fervently against Izuku’s willing mouth.

“I’ve wanted this…for so….long.” Katsuki huffs out between kisses, his hand moving up to ghost along Izuku’s throat.

“Ah! Kacchan…” Izuku moans as Katsuki moves to kiss down his neck, carefully sussing out the most sensitive spots of Izuku’s skin. The green haired hero is in absolute heaven, enjoying each soft kisses and caresess that Katsuki is kind enough to share.

After a few minutes of desperate kissing, Katsuki realizes what an uncomfortable position Izuku is in. He pulls himself off of the One For All wielder and offers out a hand to Izuku. The green haired teen takes it, and allows Katsuki to pull him out of the plush couch until he’s sitting upright again. They both spend a moment catching their breaths before Izuku turns to face his friend.

“W-what was that?” He asks, breathlessly. His eyes zero in on Katsuki’s plush mouth, practically begging the explosion hero to get back to kissing him.

“I just need to do something physical right now to get out all my energy. And I’ve been wanting to kiss you for God knows how long.” Katsuki leans forward and kisses along Izuku’s flushed freckled face. “Let me keep going?”

Izuku nods, for once he’s not babbling. He snakes his hand up to cup Katsuki’s cheek and pulls the blonde towards him. Their lips meet again and he lets out a soft moan of contentment.

Katsuki brings his hand down to rest on Izuku’s chest, appreciating the toned muscle that’s taught even under his friend’s thick All Might t-shirt. He smooths his hand down towards Izuku’s waist, and dips it under the navy blue t-shirt fabric so that he can fully appreciate his friend’s washboard abs.

“Oh!” Izuku pulls away in surprise at the contact, not used to being touched in such a way. Katsuki takes advantage of the break in kissing and moves to suck and bite at the One For All wielder’s smooth neck. He continues to spread his fingers wide across Izuku’s stomach, sliding his fingers up to feel his strong chest. Izuku is absolute putty in his hands, melting into each touch and kiss. As Katsuki kisses down his neck he glances down to see Izuku is hard in his comfy joggers. Izuku’s cock is outlined clear as day in the thin material. Katsuki smirks and lifts his friend’s shirt up to reveal pale, lightly scarred skin.

“Take this off already.” He practically growls, helping Izuku to pull the fabric over his head. Izuku can’t get it off fast enough, he just wants Katsuki’s hands and mouth back on him as soon as possible.

Katsuki has seen Izuku shirtless countless times – in the locker room, in the dorms, in battle. And each time he’s caught a glimpse of his friend’s unclothed body he’s quickly looked away. Not this time. Katsuki just wants to look and look and look until his eyes no longer work.

Despite the criss-cross of scars across Izuku’s torso and arms, Katsuki thinks he looks absolutely goddamn beautiful. He wonders for a moment if he should say so, if that’s something that people do in these kinds of situations.

“You should take off your shirt, too.” Izuku says huskily, shaking Katsuki from his inner thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki says challengingly, a bit more harsh than he intended. Izuku meets his gaze with a level stare. He’s gotten so much tougher in the past few years, his quirk lending him a newfound confidence that he had lacked in their childhood.

“It’s only fair.” The green haired man states, moving to pull Katsuki’s tight shirt off by the sleeves. He doesn’t fight back, allowing Izuku to whip the band tee over his fluffy blonde hair. Izuku’s bright green eyes grow wider as he’s faced to face with Katsuki’s rippling muscles. The blonde is a little more built up than Izuku, but not by much. Katsuki is almost ashamed at the way he goes red under Izuku’s thirsty gaze.

“Kacchan…you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Izuku says reverently, reaching out gentle fingers to caress Katsuki’s exposed flesh. He runs a fingertip down from Katsuki’s collar all the way to his bellybutton, and then bravely traces down the fuzzy blonde happy trail that disappears into his waistband. Katsuki shivers at the contact, having never been touched so lovingly. He bites back a smile.

“And what about you? Looking like a goddamn dream over there.” Katsuki pushes his friend into the couch and moves to straddle him, kissing every bit of exposed flesh he can reach. Izuku is laughing now, wrapping his arms around his friend loosely so he an enjoy the closeness.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a while…” Katsuki whispers as he lightly bites the shell of Izuku’s ear.

“What’s that?” Izuku asks, breathless. His eyes are hazy and he cups his hands around Katsuki’s cheeks and pulls his friend back into a searing kiss. Katsuki all but dissolves into the kiss, sliding his mouth against Izuku’s in the most delicious way.

“You taste so damn good.” He whispers in between kisses, bringing their mouths together again and again. He revels in the feeling of their bare chests pressed flush together. He can feel Izuku’s hardness collide gently with his own through his sweatpants, bringing out a breathy moan from his throat.

He gives Izuku a few more kisses before shifting to sit next to him on the couch once again. He slides his hand down from his friend’s neck, to his chest, and then down his stomach until he reaches the waistband of Izuku’s soft All Might branded joggers.

“I wanna get you off.” Katsuki hisses, sliding his hand on top of Izuku’s hardness and giving him a tantalizing squeeze through his joggers. “Shit, are you not wearing underwear? I can feel you right through these.”

Izuku’s face turns impossibly redder and he splutters out “I had no idea I was going to be whisked away in the middle of studying quadratic equations to hookup with my best friend! Had I known, I would have worn something sexier.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “You own a sexy outfit?”

Izuku looks at him indignantly. “Of course. I own plenty of hot outfits. I exude sexiness at all times.”

Katsuki barks a laugh and slides his hand across Izuku’s clothed cock again, drawing a squeak out of his friend. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I have, like, 5 other All Might shirts that are considerably sexier than this one.” Izuku manages to say, watching as Katsuki’s hand begins to trace up and down his length. This makes Katsuki belly laugh, he quickly runs through every All Might outfit he’s ever seen Izuku wear in his head.

“The Silver Age shirt is my favorite.” He says, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe up Izuku’s exposed neck.

“Yeah, that is a particularly sensual one.” Izuku grins and then lets out a harsh moan as Katsuki tightens his grip on his dick.

“You okay with this?” Katsuki whispers, all joking aside.

“Y-yeah. Only with you.” Izuku shifts to get more comfortable in the love seat, eyes transfixed on Katsuki’s strong hand. The blonde runs his hand along the edge of Izuku’s joggers again, ghosting a finger beneath the waistband. He brushes his fingers lower and lower, finally caressing the tip of Izuku’s dick with a delicate finger. Izuku makes an embarrassingly high sound in the back of his throat as Katsuki caresses his cock.

“Lose the pants.” He says in a hushed voice, tugging at the joggers with his empty hand. Izuku shifts his hips and makes quick work of discarding the joggers, they land in a heap on the carpeted library floor. Katsuki absentmindedly licks his lips as he takes in the scene - Izuku is now sprawled across the loveseat, stark naked.

The blonde hero can feel his heart beating incessantly as his eyes roam over his friend. In all of his fantasies, he never pictured Izuku looking this goddamn hot. He’s so toned and freckled and lovely. Katsuki sucks in a deep breath as he wraps his hand back around his friend’s heavy cock. Izuku’s biting his lip as he watches his friend start to work at his hard member. Never in his wildest dreams did he think studying would lead to this insane display of intimacy from Katsuki.

Katsuki has never touched someone else’s dick before, so for a moment Izuku’s hardness feels foreign in his callused palm. But as he begins to pump lightly at his friend’s member, he realizes this is really no different from pleasuring himself. He knows his way around his own cock, so of course he can figure out how to work at Izuku’s. He thinks through what he likes when he plays with himself and mimics it on Izuku. He works his way slowly up from base to tip, concentrating on the expanse of skin right below Izuku’s blunt tip.

“Fuuuuuck Kacchan.” Izuku groans out. Katsuki spares him a quick kiss, reveling in the way his friend’s adorable freckles contrast against his blushing skin.

“Yeah, you like that?” Katsuki says smugly, smiling at the way he’s making his friend arch into his touch. He suddenly has a thought. “Oh – hold on.”

Katsuki draws his hand away and Izuku cries out at the loss of contact. “I’ve got somethin’ that’ll make this even better.” Katsuki reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bottle of hand cream. He grins sheepishly at Izuku, who recognizes the bottle as a specialty item the Support Course cooked up to keep Katsuki’s hands from getting too chapped from his explosion quirk. Izuku has seen his friend use the lotion on many occasions, usually on days when he’s stressed with sweaty palms. The lotion helps sooth the hero’s tough skin.

Izuku watches with wide eyes as Katsuki flips open the lotion cap and pours a small dollop in his open palm.

“I bet this’ll make you lose your mind.” Katsuki says, voice low. He closes the bottle and tosses it so that it lands on top of Izuku’s discarded joggers. “Now let’s see…”

Katsuki brings his hands together and rubs the lotion between them, warming it up before he reaches out to smooth it over Izuku’s hardness. The noise that escapes Izuku’s mouth as Katsuki begins to stroke him is sinful. The explosion hero grins mischievously as he works his friend from base to tip, hand gliding along the velvety expanse of Izuku’s cock.

“Kacchan…faster…” Izuku lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch, his eyes half lidded. Who is Katsuki to deny him? He speeds up the pace, feeling his own boner twinge with need in his sweatpants. This is literally the single hottest thing that has ever happened to the two of them.

Izuku is looking absolutely wrecked, and it’s turning on Katsuki more than he ever thought was possible. Izuku opens his eyes a bit and surveys Katsuki lustfully, his gaze tracing the heavy outline of the explosion hero’s cock in his soft grey sweatpants.

“Take off your pants, Kacchan.” Izuku slurs, punch drunk on the way that Katsuki is pleasuring him.

“Nah, I want to put all my focus on you.” Katsuki says almost sweetly. Even he’s surprised at how syrupy his tone has turned. But he’s so blissed out and fucking pumped that he’s finally getting some that he can’t help but let his happiness radiate into his voice.

“Pants off. Now.” Izuku sits up, authority slipping into his voice. For a moment, Katsuki almost forgot about how strong his friend is. The tone Izuku’s using calls back to his dark phase during the war. It causes a shiver to zigzag its way up Katsuki’s spine. He would never admit this, but he was so incredibly horny for his friend’s “Dark Deku” phase. Of course, Katsuki wants his friend to be healthy and happy. He would never want Izuku to relapse back into the emotionally repressed and exhausted vigilante that he once was. But the energy of Dark Deku was so intimidating, so feral. When Izuku dips into that strange and terrifying well of energy, it leaves Katsuki feeling electrified.

“You think you can boss me around Deku?” Katsuki decides to push his luck, throwing around the childhood nickname that he used to use to bully Izuku a few years ago. This elicits exactly the response he was looking for – Izuku sits up, eyes bright. Small flashes of green energy roll across his body in waves as he holds his quirk at bay. Izuku presses his mouth into a hard line, his brows furrowed. His hair stands on end with electricity.

“I said: Pants. Off.” Izuku intones, an untamed energy crackling around him.

Katsuki’s cock pulses at being bossed around and he quickly complies. He stands up and yanks down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion, stepping out of them with practiced skill. His erect dick kisses his abs and leaves a sticky smear of pre-cum across his thick muscles. Izuku takes him in, licking his lips as his eyes all but devour Katsuki’s 7 inch monster of a cock.

The explosion hero shifts nervously under his gaze. Izuku is so turned on he’s not even trying to hide his interest in Katsuki’s fit body.

“You like what you see?” Katsuki asks, sticking out his chin defiantly and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely do.” Izuku says brightly, eyes shining. He looks like he wants to lick Katsuki up and down. He switches back to his devastatingly sexy vigilante voice as he says: “Fuck. Come here. I need to touch you.”

Katsuki rejoins him on the sofa and Izuku reaches over, hovering his hand above Katsuki’s leaking cock.

“Can I - ?” He asks, eyes flashing up to meet Katsuki’s as he waits for permission. Katsuki grins and reaches down, taking Izuku’s hand and moving to place it around his cock. He lets out a hiss of satisfaction as Izuku starts to jerk him off.

“You know, I’ve thought about touching you like this for what feels like forever. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this now.” Izuku babbles, letting his fingers roam across the expanse of his friend’s testicles. He gives him a light squeeze and Katsuki sees stars. “I’ve always thought you were so goddamn beautiful. Your face is so perfect. I love the way your chin dips into a sharp point, the way your hair shines like starlight when you’re flying through the air and activating your quirk.”

Katsuki’s heart squeezes at the words. “I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ poet.” He says, trying to posture. But it’s Izuku – the person who knows him better than anyone on Earth. There’s no need to keep up appearances. Not when his dick is in one of Izuku’s hands, and his heart is in the other. “That means a lot.” He amends, sighing as Izuku starts to pump at him slowly. They sit like that for a moment, eyes locked as Izuku enjoys the feeling of Katsuki’s hardness in his palm.

Soon, the green haired hero realizes that he needs some lubricant to keep the good vibes going, so he spits cleanly into his free hand before adding it to the mix. Katsuki gasps, his soul almost leaving his body as he watches Izuku slide two hands onto his cock. He twists them lightly in opposite directions, pumping as he goes.

“Have you done this before?” Katsuki groans, almost afraid of the answer.

“No.” Izuku says truthfully. “But I’ve imagined all the things I’d do to you if I had you naked. And this is one of them.”

“God fuckin’ dammit.” Katsuki throws his head back at the comment, letting out an easy moan as Izuku continues to pleasure him. “That’s the single hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Izuku’s smile shines throughout his face, his eyes beaming down at Katsuki.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He says as he works at Katsuki’s balls again. “I’ve been wanting this for forever.”

“Beats me.” Katsuki groans as his friend tightens his grip. “Move over a little, let me touch you.”

They find a comfortable position that allows them to stroke each other in tandem. They’re both smiling stupidly at each other and kiss lazily. Eventually, the tension and pleasure becomes too great and they can’t concentrate on kissing. Izuku leans forward so that he can touch Katsuki’s forehead with his own in an intimate touch. They’re both gasping and breathless as they bring each other towards completion.

“You gonna cum?” Katsuki intones, speeding up his pace as he jerks off his friend. “I wanna make you cum.”

“K-Kacchan!” Izuku moans out quietly as Katsuki hits a particularly wonderful spot. Katsuki grins and uses his other hand to trace around his balls. He pulses them softly and the green haired hero cries out with pleasure. He tries to keep up a steady pace as he pumps at Katsuki in return, but feels himself getting distracted and sloppy.

“Come on, ‘Zuku.” Katsuki encourages, shortening his friend’s name endearingly. “Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

Izuku is feeling absolutely wrecked and over stimulated, fat tears leaking out of his bright eyes and down across his cheeks.

“Always fuckin’ crying.” Katsuki says huskily as he continues his brutal pace. “I love that about ya.”

At this comment, the build up of pleasure is too great for the One For All wielder.

He loudly cries out “Katsuki!” as he cums hard, thick ropes of cum leaking across Katsuki’s fist and splattering across his pale freckled abs. Katsuki smiles as he continues to pump at Izuku’s cock, pulling him through his orgasm and helping him to come back down again. Izuku’s hand spasms around Katsuki’s dick, bringing the explosion hero to the point of no return as well.

“Ah, shit!” Katsuki sputters as he finishes hard, white sticky cum flowing around Izuku’s hand like a volcanic eruption. He forgets to breathe as his lower body seizes up and then relaxes, pleasure coursing through his veins in a way he’s never felt by jerking off alone. They continue to pump each other’s cocks to completion until they’re both spent, sticky and over stimulated.

They lay there for a moment, naked and trying to catch their breaths.

“Fuckkkk Izuku.” Katsuki finally sighs out, hiding his face behind an arm as he processes what they’ve just done. “That was so fucking hot.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to pick up a math book from the library.” Izuku laughs out weakly. “You tricked me, got me alone, and then seduced me.”

Katsuki laughs at this – lightly at first, and then he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. He reaches out and pulls Izuku bodily towards him, interlocking their sweaty limbs and torsos as they both laugh and laugh, entangled in each other. When they finally calm down, Katsuki kisses Izuku’s cheek sweetly.

“You know I wasn’t expecting you to moan my full name there. What a treat.” He teases, noting the way that Izuku avoids eye contact at the comment. “Am I gonna get that treatment every time I make you cum?

“Every time?” Izuku says slowly, as if he can’t believe his ears.

“You didn’t think this was only a one time thing, did you?” Katsuki barks out a harsh laugh, pulling Izuku closer into his embrace. Their both smeared with cum, sweat, lotion and spit – each is desperately in need of a shower. But Katsuki couldn’t care less. “We’re going to need to do this at least ten more times.”

“Right.” Izuku says weakly, he can’t believe his luck. “We’ll need to do this until we truly master it. And that could take weeks.”

“Maybe months.” Katsuki says with a smile, mussing Izuku’s wild green hair.

“Years, even.” Izuku agrees, and he’s beaming. His face is bright and alight with joy as he turns so that he can kiss his friend on the mouth.

“You nerd.” The affection in Katsuki’s voice is so genuine, it makes Izuku’s heart squeeze with fondness. “You know you’re stuck with me now.”

“Always have been.” Izuku says easily, settling into Katsuki’s arms and letting his eyes slide closed as he basks in the afterglow. “Always will be.”

FIN.

[filmofhybe]

The perfect blend - YJW

part 3 of “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”

In which..

can you ever imagine in this multiverse, you having the biggest fattest crush on your best friend - Yang jungwon, however knowing he already has a “girlfriend” hurts more than just a sting from a bee.

💌 PAIRING : yjw x reader

GENRE : friends to lovers , fluff

WARNING : angst , fluff , kissing , CHAPTER 2 NOT PROOF-READ!!

🗯️ FEATURING : huh yunjin - LE SSERAFIM

word count : 2,066

MASTERLIST to “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”.

I strolled into the cozy book café, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloping me. Jungwon, my best friend and crush, was already there, immersed in a book. With a grin, he looked up and waved me over, marking the beginning of another one of our countless hangouts. “Y/n! Quick I’m on the next book already!” He cheered causing the owner to shush him up. I giggles as I quickly walked towards him ans sit beside him

As we spent hours laughing, discussing literature, and losing ourselves in the melodies of shared playlists, the warm atmosphere making his features and his personality stand out. I found my heart entwining with his in the multiverse we were building together within those walls. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken emotions, creating a bond that transcended the pages of the novels surrounding us. That was 2 weeks ago.

“Yah Jungwon why aren’t you joining my hang outs anymore?” I said with a annoyed tone, yet I was joking around. “Is nothing y/n just school okay? I’ll hangout with you soon.” And before I could reply, he hang out. I sighed, disappointedly walking towards the closet and picking out a outfit a planned out for other next reunion. I guess I’ll just wear it today to return to our sanctuary, hoping to catch him at our usual spot.

To my dismay, as I pushed open the café door, I witnessed Jungwon passionately kissing a girl in the corner we had claimed as ours. The world crumbled beneath my feet as I grappled with the realization that our connection might have existed only in my dreams. Heartache and confusion overwhelmed me. Confusion spread across my face. “Y/nnie~ your here!” My hearing was blurred in that heartbreaking moment, I felt like a character in a tragic novel, betrayed by the person I thought knew me best. The emotions were so vivid that it became unbearable. Just as the pain peaked, I snapped out of the dream, gasping for air. Tears streaming down my face.

“Y/n wait please let me explai-” pushing the café door, rain mixed with my salty tears. The café that was once filled with love and warmth, was now just a feeling of coldness and bittersweet memories. Feeling the world absolutely crumbling beneath my feet-

“Fuck omg…” i jumped, snapping out of my crazy multiverse that felt a bit too real. Realizing I’m in my boyfriend - jungwon’s arm calmed me down. “Hey baby you alright? A bad dream again?” The word “again” felt like a knife to my heart. How many times have that multiverse must torture my thoughts. As we lay there, I couldn't shake off the echoes of the dream. The emotions lingered, haunting me like shadows from an alternate reality. It made me appreciate the tangible moments with Jungwon even more, cherishing the genuine connection we had built together. His hands softly massage my hair as he tries to calm me down by whispering sweet nothings. “Is okay if you don’t want to tell me but I wish I could beat those demons and monster in your dreams.” I don’t think you want to beat yourself up… “maybe a little date to your café would work?” He asked. Not sure would I really want to go after the so called dream. I just nodded as we held each others hands, walking towards the café that’s filled with bad memories in our next universe.

The book café remained our haven, but now with an added layer of vulnerability. We continued to share laughter and music, our bond deepening with each passing day. The dream served as a reminder of the fragility of emotions, urging me to embrace the reality of our connection.

I know he knows something was off the moment I step inside the café. I didn’t bother to read our normal series nor even listen to the music we always dance to. I just sat there thinking, I know he would not do such a thing in this life. But it scares me. And for what?

jungwon’s multiverse POV

I couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that settled in my chest every time he canceled plans with y/n. The temptation to see the mysterious girl from school, whose name I had heard whispered in hushed tones, proved to be too strong. Me and y/n’s café, tucked away in a quiet corner, became our secret haven.

I grappled with the conflict between my feelings for y/n and the magnetic pull I felt toward the enigmatic girl from school. The thrill of secret meetings with her overshadowed his sense of responsibility. Despite the guilt gnawing at him,I found himself canceling hangouts with y/n more often, weaving a web of lies to conceal his true motives.

“jungwon should we hang out again today?”

“I’m sorry I can’t y/n..”

“You never hang out with me anymore.”

“I will next time ok?”

“Fine..”

One day, I met up with the girl, at the café, sharing a stolen moment in our café, we both leaning in, her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her as our lips connect like a perfect puzzle. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The café owner's excited voice echoed through the air, calling out a familiar name. "Y/N!" The realization hit me like a tidal wave as I turned his head towards the entrance, only to find Y/N standing there, eyes filled with tears.

In the most beautiful outfit I had ever seen her wear, she looked like a vision. Panic set in as I tried to explain, don’t know how to explain to her, why he kept canceling their hang outs, why he decided to take another person to their secret hang out spot. "No, Y/N, it's not what you think it is." But the words hung in the air, too late to catch her as she ran out, leaving me helpless in my remorse.

Desperation fueled my actions as I attempted to reach her, but before my fingertips could brush against her, I felt the world breaking down below my feet.

The bustling café faded away, and Jungwon found himself in y/n’s arms, realizing that this vivid scenario was just a cruel illusion. Relief washed over him, and he embraced the solitude, grateful that y/n was in his this reality.

The weight of the dream lingered, prompting Jungwon to reassess his priorities. The guilt he felt was a stark reminder of the potential consequences of his actions. Determined to make amends, he resolved to be honest with Y/N and prioritize their relationship.

“Hey you alright? You slept for like 45 minutes while reading the book.” She chuckled.. the girl that makes him cold Just by his laugh.”

“Yeah I’m fine baby. I’m sorry I fell asleep…” he sighed rubbing his eyes

“No is okay, maybe we should go home now.” Grabbing his hand, and pulling him out of the store. Jungwon felt lucky to be able to have his arms around his beautiful girlfriend in this universe. He made a conscious effort to be present for y/n. In this reality, y/n and Jungwon's bond strengthened, proving that sometimes, even in the face of temptation and mistakes, true love can prevail. Jungwon, grateful for the second chance, cherished every moment with her. ensuring that their story unfolded authentically, free from the shadows of secrecy that once threatened to tear them apart.

; AUTHORS NOTE : omg part 3?!? We are almost coming to the end of jungwon’s series!! (2 more to go!! I’ll be posting twice a week soon🤭)

series taglist : @enhaz1 @dubuii @in-somnias-world @ultimatestayandminoronce @yenqa @euncsace @hoondiors @yannew @mrchweeee @ariadores @oldjws @frukkoneeeeg @dimplewonie @seobstarr @asteria-wood (white = i cant tag)

[ronaldofandom]

Drunken Truth or Dare

Ok people. This is the craziest, whackiest, most insane drabble I have ever written.

Plot: Ram, Bheem, Sita and Jenny go on a double date. Get drunk. And play truth or dare. The women get nuts and the men get scandalized.

No warnings. This is sheer whackiness with some fluff.

...........................................................................

Jenny and Sita had spent only two months together. But in that short time, they had forged a deep, unbreakable bond, almost akin to Ram and Bheem.

They had so many layers of shared memories and stories by now; it felt like they had known each other since forever. Each was that friend to the other, who is always there just when you need them. Who has this weird telepathy with you and can just tell when something is off with you. Who knows you and understands you like no one does.

This friendship had meant a lot to Sita. But it meant infinitely more to Jenny. She spoke to Sita about some things that she didn’t even share with Bheem, not yet. Sita was her mentor, her guide, and her support system in this new world. Jenny learned from Sita’s silent wisdom every day.

The woman was also crazy when she wanted to be. Very few people knew that side of her. Maybe since her circumstances never really allowed her to let loose. But with Jenny, Sita took the liberty to discuss anything under the sun.

The two women were sitting by the lake, chattering away. While the two men were indulged in a passionate, animated debate about some plan of action a short distance away. The women knew it was normal for them. That they would kiss and make up soon after the argument. So they ignored them and got back to their discussion, which was far more interesting than the men anyway.

Sita had that half smile on. Jenny knew she was about to ask a scandalous question.

‘Sooo, who was the first person you had a crush on? The first person you wanted to kiss? And don’t say Bheem; that’s such a boring answer.’

Jenny narrowed her eyes at Sita.

‘What if the answer ACTUALLY is Bheem?’

‘But it’s not, right? I can feel it’s not. C’monn, tell me no.’

Sita wiggled her eyes at Jenny, making the younger woman smile. Jenny caved, and started to tell the story.

‘Well, he was a professor at Eton who used to home-school me on subjects I was curious about, which were not covered in my school. World history, economics, oceanography etc. I heard my cousins talk about these things all the time and I wanted to learn too. So my folks caved and let me have this home tutor. And boy, he was something.’

She giggled and looked down. Sita clapped her hands in delight, waiting for Jenny to continue.

‘He used to come every day at 6, and our session went for an hour. But I always had so many questions, so it went on for a bit more. I loved his intellect, his gentle eyes, his non-patronising attitude, and his genuine willingness to help a 15 year old girl learn. And…well, he had a great physique too. Like really amazing.’

‘Ofcourse he did.’

The women giggled together.

‘So, did you ever tell him?’

‘Are you crazy? He was a friend of my eldest cousin. The scandal would have been drastic. And I wasn’t in love or anything. I just wanted to spend time with him because I guess he was the first true gentleman I had met. So different from everyone else I knew at the time. He was the reason I started to travel more, to learn. And that’s how I also came to India by the way.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Now, your turn. And if you say Ram, I will hit you.’

Sita laughed and covered her face with her hands.

‘My answer is silly. You will laugh at me.’

‘I promise I wont. Tell me, please?’

‘Uhh ok. Well, my first crush was not a person. It was a god.’

Jenny was about to gasp, but she recovered quickly, nudging Sita to continue.

‘You see, we have a god called Krishna. We all have heard his stories while growing up. Particularly his tales from when he was a child / teenager. He appealed me to in a way I can’t describe. He was everything I could dream of.’

Jenny was tuned in by now. Krishna had captured her attention.

‘His earth-shattering cuteness as a baby made me want to have him as my child. To care for him. To take pride in him being my kid. He was that kid who was the apple of everyone’s eye. Everyone wanted a piece of him.’

For some reason, Jenny immediately thought of Bheem. And wondered what his childhood had been like. Somehow, she felt Bheem would have been that kid too. Everyone would have wanted a piece of him.

‘He was a very naughty child, he troubled his mother so much. But he loved her a lot, the most. I wish I have that one day.’

For the first time, Jenny wondered what it would be like to have Bheem’s kid. His mini-me. How could having a little version of him around be daunting? What was she so afraid of? She hadn’t been there for Bheem’s childhood but maybe she could experience that with his kid. To see him be a baby again with his child would be priceless. Shocked by how real and imminent that emotion felt, she tried to put that on a back burner and focus on Sita’s story again.

‘He was a cute little thief. Thief of hearts mostly, but also butter. He loved it so so much that he used to steal it from other women in the village. Funny thing is, if he had asked, they would have given it to him anyway. But he loved playing with them and teasing them. Secretly, they loved it too.’

Jenny closed her eyes and tried to visualise this menace of a child. All she could see was round perky cheeks and curly hair. And the kid could run like the wind.

‘And, when he grew up, he became the centre of attention again. Of all the young women. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him. Gosh, they would have done anything to be with him. To be his chosen one. He was sweet, kind, mischievous, gorgeous, loving, caring and strong. All in one. There are many stories of him protecting the people. He was their saviour, their healer, their pride. He was divine, yet so real.’

Jenny rolled her eyes. This was a story she had heard from Sita and Loki too many times. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Bheem now as well, but in a different way.

‘But, he had his heart set on one. While there were many gopis, there was only one Radha for him. She was his one true love, his whole heart.’

Jenny had no control on her reactions anymore. Her eyes were moist and her heart was racing. This was too real, way too real.

‘Did they end up together, then? Did Krishna marry his Radha?’

Sita came out of her trance and looked up at this question.

‘Actually, they didn’t.’

Jenny’s heart broke for Radha.

‘Why?’

Sita pondered over it for a few seconds.

‘I think Krishna had to go away. At least that’s what I remember. But I will ask the village elders, they would know better. Somehow I can’t remember the full story.’

When Jenny just nodded and didn’t look up, Sita linked her arm with hers.

‘Even though they didn’t end up together, what they had was eternal love. Even today, their names are always taken together. There is no Krishna without Radha, and vice versa. They were soulmates, and somewhere in heaven, they must have found each other.’

Jenny looked up at her friend. Once again, without her saying anything, Sita had understood the turmoils of her heart. Gosh, she was really a godsend.

Sita attempted to change the mood, and chimed in.

‘So, how long did it take for you to imagine your Bheem, when I spoke of Krishna? Not long I am guessing.’

Jenny just smiled. It seemed like a rhetorical question.

‘Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a woman madly in love.’

‘Yeah? As if you are any different.’

Jenny elbowed her. Sita elbowed back, laughing at their antics.

Both knew how deeply they felt for the two men. Their relationship dynamics were very different, yet the depth of the bond was similar.

This is how Ram found them - giggling and play jostling with each other. After the heated debate he had just had with Bheem over their next mission, he was in no mood for such perkiness.

‘The cabin is ready. Bheem is putting the final touches. We can go now.’

He said curtly, making the women look up at him.

Sita stood up first, half-annoyed with his tone, and ended up stomping on Jenny’s toe.

Jenny cried out in pain and Sita cried out in guilt. She bent down to check the gash her heel had made on Jenny’s toe. It wasn’t too deep but it needed immediate tending to. She just hoped it didn’t need any stitches. Sita needed her medical kit, which was in her bag in the hunting cabin. She always carried her kit with her, it had become a habit now.

Ram was still processing the scene in front of him and wondering what to do. It was all too sudden. But Sita swung into action immediately.

‘Ram, we need to get her to the cabin. Quickly. Carry her and follow me.’

Both Ram and Jenny recoiled in horror at that statement.

Ram dragged Sita aside and started speaking in native tongue.

‘Are you out of your mind? I can’t carry her.’

‘Why the hell not? This is an emergency. We need to get her to the cabin. NOW.’

‘Sita, she is……why do I need to spell it out? Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Are you really that small minded, Ram? You seriously think Bheem would have a problem with this? That he won’t understand the situation? What’s wrong with you?’

‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU? Even if I forget Bheem for a second, which I can’t, don’t you think she would have a problem with this?’

‘Well, both of you need to suck it up. If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Bheem would help me?’

‘It’s different. You don’t hate his guts. And he thinks of you as his sister.’

‘Why? What do YOU think of her, then?’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT.’

Jenny was hearing the argument from the sidelines and understood enough that it was about her. She stood up with some effort and tried to put pressure on her toe. It wasn’t that bad.

‘Sita, look, I can walk. It’s not bad. I promise. Let’s go to the cabin.’

Sita looked between the two stubborn people, huffed in annoyance and agreed reluctantly.

‘FINE. But for the record, I am very displeased about this.’

‘Heyyy, I am the one who is hurt. Now come and help me.’

Sita stood next to her, wrapping her arm around Jenny’s waist. Jenny leaned on her, and held on to Ram’s arm on the other side.

The cabin wasn’t too far and they reached in a short while.

Bheem was fixing the outer boundary of the hut when he saw them. But something was off, they were walking weirdly. That’s when he realised Jenny was limping, and galloped in their direction. Reaching them in a few seconds.

He scooped her up in his arms immediately, and paced towards the cabin. Sita gave him a download of what happened.

Both the healers tended to Jenny’s injury. Thankfully, it didn’t need stitches.

‘But why did you walk?’

Sita looked at Ram pointedly, in an ‘I told you’ look, but stopped short of ratting him out.

‘Because it wasn’t too bad. Look, it’s healing already. Stop worrying, please.’

Bheem was neither pleased nor convinced, but this wasn’t the time to pick that up. So he let it go.

The group had their lunch then. Today was one of the rare days when they all had the afternoon free. Jenny and Sita had completed all their chores and classes for the day. And the men had only returned last night from a long mission, so there was no training today.

The mood improved markedly with lunch. Jenny had made the dessert with a lot of love. She had recently learned it and it was one of Bheem’s favourite too. Sita’s fish curry was legendary as well.

In the middle of the chatter, Bheem kept re-applying the ointment on Jenny’s wound every 15 mins, earning her a teasing smile from Sita.

It was a happy day. Sita was feeling particularly joyful today. And playful. It had been a long time since things seemed somewhat decent and stable. She didn’t know how many such days were there in her kitty. So she wanted to live today to the fullest. She wanted to let go and for once in her life, she wanted to have fun. They were away from others, up at the hunting cabin. It was the perfect time.

‘I have an idea.’

She said chirpily, with a twinkle in her eyes. Jenny knew she was up to no good.

‘You know what will make this afternoon memorable? Some bhaang.’

Bheem choked on air and Ram choked on water.

‘Yes, you heard me right. I said bhaang. Guess what, I have had bhaang too. More than once.’

Ram looked at her like she had grown horns. Who was this woman and what had she done to his fiance?

His reaction made Sita more adamant.

‘Why the surprise, Ram? Because I chose to not be sullen all the time? Or because only men should drink, not women? What is it?’

Ram had no such patriarchal notions. Neither did Bheem. They were just genuinely surprised by all this coming their way from Sita.

‘Umm, I am not sure we have the ingredients.’

Bheem pitched in, when Ram was still struggling to form words.

‘Oh I am sure I saw some bhaang trees on the way, not far from here. Ram, would you be a dear and get some for us?’

‘It would also help with the pain, I guess.’

Jenny chose that moment to double down, looking at Bheem lovingly, while holding on to his arm.

Sita smiled proudly at her friend. Well played.

Ram and Bheem looked at each other. They had never seen either woman drunk. Heck, they had never seen each other drunk. This was all a new unchartered territory for them.

But they both felt that there was no getting out of it. Sita knew that the decision had been made, and she was going to get her wish.

‘Bring enough for a few turns. Don’t be miserly.’

She instructed Ram, who nodded in response and went away quietly.

‘Are you sure you want to have it? It’s quite strong.’

Bheem whispered to Jenny, while Sita was merrily preparing the rest of the ingredients.

‘I could try. I haven’t had much hard alcohol before but I have had fair bit of champagne. It was quite nice.’

She smiled at him with excitement, still holding on to his arm, and Bheem didn’t have the heart to say anything else. So he shoved his concern aside.

Ram returned a few minutes later, carrying a ton of bhaang leaves, as instructed.

As Sita started to pour them into the mixture, Ram began to instruct her on the quantity. But she shushed him.

‘I know.’

She said decisively, leaving Ram guessing how many times she had made it before.

‘Ta-daa.’

Sita put down the glasses in front of everyone, beaming with joy. Bheem looked at her and smiled. She had never been this open, this cheerful before. He wished she had more moments like this. She definitely deserved it, for the wonderful kind heart that she had.

Bheem decided to join in the cheerfulness, but Ram was still wary.

All three of them took the first sip and sighed happily.

Jenny looked at their reactions, and decided to take her first sip as well, with Bheem side-eyeing her throughout. She gagged, but the taste became better after a few seconds. So she took another sip. And another. Bheem constantly requested her to pace herself, but she paid no heed to him.

When she climbed into his lap after downing two full glasses quickly, that’s when he cut her off. She protested loudly, but Sita sided with Bheem. That traitor. Jenny swore to her that she would remember this, but Sita laughed in her face. That was annoying. But she was too happy to care. This liquid joy was addictive, and Bheem’s lap was too comfortable. She snuggled happily and tuned out the world for a few minutes.

Sita was nowhere close to done yet. She put another glass in front of the rest. Bheem refused politely, pointing towards Jenny who was mumbling gibberish in his lap.

Ram liked this feeling. Of zoning out. Of not constantly thinking. He wasn’t there yet but he was on the way. So he took the glass readily and then another one. They were four glasses down now.

Bheem was very amused by their antics. Ram was still mostly under control, mostly, but he had a loopy smile plastered on his face.

Sita was laying flat on her back and laughing maniacally, while breaking into a strange floor dance every once in a while. Ram cheered her on.

That’s when Jenny decided to wake up. She was still heavily drunk but her senses had absorbed the worst of it. Bheem slowly placed her outside of his lap, next to him. She didn’t protest and moved willingly. Just when he thought they were close to winding down, Jenny clapped her hands.

‘Alright everyone, let’s play a game.’

‘Yessssss. Letsssssssss.’

Sita rose up from the floor, swaying heavily on both sides.

‘So it’s called truth and dare. We can get a turn where we have to pick either truth or dare. And the person has to do what others ask.’

‘That’s such a profound game. I love it. Let’s do it.’

Sita backed her friend.

Bheem continued to be amused.

Ram was nervous - he didn’t like the sound of this game at all. But he didn’t protest. Not loudly at-least.

‘Wonderful. I can start to set the pace. Truth. Now you can ask me anything.’

Jenny giggled while rubbing her hands. Bheem loved this look on her, and smiled from ear to ear. The bhaang had done nothing to him yet but the giddiness of the environment was infectious.

‘Oooooh let’s see. Why don’t you tell me something juicy from your time in Delhi? Maybe something about the three of you?’

Jenny thought for a few moments, then jumped when realisation dawned on her.

‘I have got something. Do you know how my first meeting with Bheem was manoeuvred?’

The smile drained from Bheem’s face. As did all the colour. He avoided looking at Ram but could feel him staring daggers in his direction.

It had taken Ram half a second extra to process. When he did, his jaw dropped. How could she know? Unless Bheem had….that traitor. Ram had done it for Bheem’s benefit and that smitten puppy couldn’t even keep his mouth shut.

Smitten puppy. That’s what he will call Bheem from now on.

‘Ram threw iron nails on the road to puncture the tyres of my car. That’s how.’

Sita looked at Ram in disbelief. And part admonishment.

‘Ram, that’s so creepy.’

‘I-I know but hey, it worked right?’

‘God, are you really that stupid or you chose that particular day to say bye-bye to your brains? What if the nails punctured other cars, what about them? Did you go and help all those people too? Did you pick up the nails after?’

Ram looked down, like a scolded kid. Bheem couldn’t take it anymore and came to his rescue.

‘Look at it this way. If it wasn’t for that, we all wouldn’t be here right now. Sometimes the end justifies the means right?’

When both women narrowed their eyes at Bheem, he raised his hands in submission.

‘Can we please forget this and move on, in the spirit of the occasion?’

‘Fine.’

The women said together, then looked at each other, and laughed. Bheem breathed a sigh of relief.

Ram stood up to clear the plates and Bheem followed him, hugging him from behind.

‘Sorry Anna. I just blurted it out to her one night by mistake. Please don’t be mad at me. Please?’

Ram tried to break free from Bheem’s bear hug but Bheem just tightened his hold. And doubled down.

‘I love you, Anna.’

All fight went out of Ram. In a jiffy. This was a Brahmastra that never failed. Bheem could commit a murder and apologise after. And people would forgive him for it.

Bheem knew he had succeeded. So he ruffled Ram’s hair one final time and went back to the ladies, with Ram following behind. He would still call Bheem a smitten puppy though, that was decided in his head.

‘Ok Bheem, your turn. What’s it gonna be?’

‘Dare.’

‘I am proud of you.’

Sita patted his knee, and the whole group smiled at her antics. Including Ram.

Frankly, Ram was stunned to see this side of her. But it made him happy.

‘I heard you guys danced at that party right? I wanna see it. Please please please. I have heard so much about it.’

‘Gosh, it was amazing. Best thing I have ever seen. Everrrrr.’

Jenny chimed in.

Bheem couldn’t say no to the first thing Sita had asked from him. So he did a few steps himself, with a loud cheer from the rest. Then he dragged Ram up and the two danced together, instantly falling in sync even in an inebriated state. Without music. Without even looking at each other.

Sita was mesmerised and Jenny was nostalgic.

Once they were done, Bheem extended his hand to Jenny, asking if she wanted to dance with him. She didn’t know how much she could manage in this state but she could never say no to such an invitation.

He helped her get up, then placed her bare feet on his, moving them effortlessly.

Jenny was stunned to see that he remembered the steps. Like the back of his hand.

When she lost balance & swayed to one side, she yelped, and both his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘Shhh, I got you.’

He whispered slowly in her ear.

She smiled & wrapped her arms around his neck. This was not the posture of waltz but neither of them cared. They only cared about gazing into the eyes of their soulmate. Both thought back to that afternoon of the party a few months back and how much had changed since then.

Jenny willed herself to not get overwhelmed. To not cry. Because the moment was surreal.

However, Sita got teary-eyed looking at the two. Their love was palpable. She had seen their journey first hand - from the nervous shy looks to baby steps towards other to being madly in love. They made her believe in miracles. In destiny. They also reignited her faith in love.

It was sweet for a while but when the two kept going, she had to intervene. She was happy for them and everything but they didn’t need to rub their closeness in her face.

‘Ummm hello, get a room you two.’

They blushed profusely and sat down, still holding hands. Jenny tried to kick Sita but the woman anticipated it and ducked away in time.

Ram was glad for the intervention. Because he was about to puke at this mushy display. Smitten puppy was such an apt name for his love sick friend.

‘You are extra chirpy today, aren’t you? Fine, your turn then. Let’s see if you dare to pick dare.’

Jenny goaded Sita, wanting to get back at her. And it worked.

‘Oh please, I am not a coward. Fine. Dare it is.’

Jenny laughed her best naughty smile. Making Sita nervous for the first time that night. She didn’t like where it was going.

‘Give Ram a lap dance.’

‘WHAT????’

Ram and Bheem gasped loudly. Sita looked down. Her evil friend had her checkmated, or at-least that’s what she thought. But Sita was in no mood to cower away or back down. Not tonight.

She stood up, made another glass of bhang, downed it in a few sips and came back to her spot.

The men looked at each other nervously, and at the two women, not knowing what else to do.

‘Let’s do it.’

Sita declared, looking straight at Ram. The said man died a thousand deaths instantly.

‘Ok that’s enough. This is madness. This can’t go on. I can’t watch this. This has to sto….’

Jenny interrupted Bheem’s rant by covering his mouth with her hand.

‘Stop being such a prude. This is happening. If you can’t watch it, go sit in a corner and cover your ears.’

Bheem did exactly that. He huffed and puffed his way out of the circle, found the farthest corner, sat down facing the wall, and plunged his fingers in his ears. Sita was like a sister to him, and watching this would be wildly inappropriate.

Sita kept looking straight at an ashen faced Ram. Who was stunned into silence. And numbness. At the suggestion. And the acceptance. Both.

Sita wanted to do this partly to not back down. But also, she knew they would never get a chance to do anything remotely wild again. Their real life didn’t allow it. This was the only moment and she wanted to seize it. Curiosity got the best of her. Jenny had told her about their night in the cabin. She knew she could never have that degree of adventure but this was massive for them too. She wanted to know what this would be like.

But her legs didn’t move. Despite her best efforts. She needed more liquid courage, so she asked Jenny to fetch her another glass of bhaang. And gulped it readily.

When Ram realised she wasn’t backing down, he decided to put his foot down.

‘Sita, no. You are out of your mind. And pissed drunk. Let’s go back.’

Sita blew raspberries at Ram, making Jenny burst into a fit of giggles. Bheem could mildly hear the commotion from the corner and was horrified that the dance had already begun.

‘YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A CHILD.’

‘Oh, that’s the opposite of what I am going to do just now.’

Sita stood up, and slowly walked towards Ram, petrifying the shit out of him.

She opened her hair, letting them fall to her waist. And transformed into a siren that neither Ram nor Jenny could ever imagine.

‘L-listen, this is…..this is…..’

‘You just saw those two, didn’t you? Then why is this any different?’

‘Because…because..’

‘For once in your life, stop being a buzzkill will you?’

Ram shut up and stayed rooted to his spot, as Sita started to caress his torso and dance around him. She slapped his hands away from his face and made him look at her. Actually look at her.

Ram was equal parts horrified and mesmerised. Extremely confused by his emotions. The woman glided into his lap, and moved like the smoothest jazz dancer. For the life of him, Ram couldn’t figure where Sita had learned that from.

Jenny’s mouth open and closed repeatedly. She had no idea her dare would unleash this kracken. While she wasn’t a party to the dance, she was feeling all bothered inside for some reason. For a moment, she wanted to be in Bheem’s place. This had started to feel like an invasion of their private moment. But then, she would have never known this side of her friend.

6 glasses of bhang in one hour and can drive the best drinkers nuts. And Sita had very little experience with that drink earlier.

So, just when Jenny was sitting on the edge of her seat, literally, Sita passed out in Ram’s lap. Like a light. Ram looked at her in confusion. Then looked at Jenny. The roller coaster of emotions had thrown their senses haywire. They had lost all context of reality.

‘Is the atrocity over or is it still going on?’

Bheem’s pained voice got them back to earth. Ram gathered Sita in his arms while Jenny found her voice again.

‘Umm yeah, it’s over. You can come back.’

Bheem returned to find Ram and Jenny shell-shocked, while Sita was dangling in Ram’s arms. He had no intention of ever finding out what happened there.

‘I-I should go back to the village. She needs to have some lemon in her system soon. And we don’t have any here.’

Bheem nodded at Ram, and Ram walked back to the village. Carrying a passed out Sita in his arms. If it wasn’t for the weight of her, he would be pinching himself right now to snap out of the dream he was in. Because, how could anything that happens just now be real?

Jenny decided that she needed another glass to recover. Looking at her face, Bheem didn’t even protest.

The drink did it’s job, and Jenny was chirpy again in no time. The scene from earlier already a distant memory in her head. But the heat from the situation remained. She hugged Bheem tightly, peppering kisses all over his face.

Before he could recover, she had dragged him to the cot and pulled him on top of her.

Bheem broke their kiss shortly, rolling off to her side. She whined loudly, reaching for him again, but he stopped her mid-way.

‘Jenny, you are in no state to give consent. Nothing is going to happen tonight.’

He said decisively, leaving no room for arguments. She wanted to be annoyed, to tell him that she was in full senses and that he should take her word for it instead of making his own assumptions. But she knew his heart was in the right place and she could never get him to budge on his moral grounds.

Cuddling with him was the best she was going to get. When she snuggled next to him and adjusted her legs, a cramp made her wince loudly.

Bheem immediately swung into action, inspecting the area and stretching her leg.

‘See, this is why you shouldn’t have walked after injuring your toe. You ended up putting extra pressure on this leg. Wait.’

He looked around the cabin and was glad to find some oil to massage her leg. He lifted both her legs to his shoulders, applying the oil on them tenderly. Jenny looked at his face throughout, as he tended to her.

In a different situation, the sight of her disheveled like this would have garnered a different reaction from Bheem. But right now, he was only concerned about bringing relief to her, and nothing else. There was no end to this man’s amazingness.

Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep, knowing he would be by her side through the night.

It had been some evening. They had all ventured into some unchartered territories, leaving some scandalized and the others giddy. But one thing was for sure. None of them was going to forget this evening and what transpired here.

....................................................................

P.S. - I may have been drunk while writing this.

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[russilton]

Hello! You have very beautiful art.. I wanted to ask you about your thought on Valtteri ships if you have some? I am deeply in love with Valewis but I would also like your thoughts on dantteri ;)

Hello, Anon! Thank you very much <3

I love this question! I love talking ships I really do.

Romantically, Valewis isn’t for me. Not because I don’t think it would work, but when it comes to Lewis I’m a die hard monoshipper. George or bust! (prior relationships are their own discussion, but always endgame Britcedes over here)

But… BUT! Platonically/Bromantically? I could talk about Valewis for HOURS! ASK KIMY, I LITERALLY HAVE.

(I also go into a LONG essay on Dantteri under the readmore after I’m done talking about Valewis)

I am so down bad for the brotherly bond between Lewis and Val, the bond forged first in proximity then in familiarity. This especially goes for a/b/o au’s, Lewis is a born leader, someone people naturally turn to. Val is that perfect second in command. The quiet bastion that presses against Lewis’ back to prop him up when the pressure gets unbearable. The solem observer Lewis can trust to be level headed when he is facing questions without an easy answer.

I have a kink for positive masculinity, and my favourite way of expressing this in ideas and writing is always with Val and Lewis. Whether it be easy, casual touches that reassure each other (the grasp of a shoulder, the squeeze of an arm) or strong, tight hugs that let them ground each other. I Love talking about the angst of Lewis strung between Val and George when the seat change came, how he didn’t want to favour either but felt helpless when toto asked him what he wanted. He wants George, who has worked so, so hard to get here. Who has fought tooth and nail to climb, climb, climb. He also wants Val, who has stood by his side for years in the wake of Nico’s betrayal. Who had to deal with the pressure of being his teammate without much complaint. Who sacrificed himself for Lewis more than once. Oh bromantic Valewis you have ANGST you have BONDS you have FAMILIAL LOVE. You are PERFECT.

AND THEN YOU BRING UP DANTTERI? Anon I fucking LOVE DANTTERI. That IS my one and true Dan and Val ship now. I usually only have one set mono ship per fandom, I often chop and change everyone else pretty happily. But @blafard introduced me to Dantteri and I have been OBSESSED ever since. I now find it hard to explore other val and dan ships bc I’m always thinking about them (dantteri)

IT HAS SO MANY LAYERS. I know they have a shared history, which I’m still learning (I’m v much in need of a PowerPoint on this topic), but EVEN WITHOUT THAT there’s so much to them that’s just *chefs kiss*. The thing about Dan and Valtteri is they are opposites who have more in common than they would ever admit. They are loud and quiet, broad and long, light and dark. Dan with his blinding grin and black curls who invades Val’s stoic space to run a hand through bright blond hair and preen for the Finn’s rare, soft grin. The spice of Val turning it around on Dan to tease him over shared beers to see him blush.

They are both men who had incredibly promising careers that started to fade with the curse of the second driver. Guys who chased championships like every driver who then had to contend with the brutal realisation that they are no longer the best at what they do.

There is a bond between them in this shared angst, because who else would they talk to? With all respect, Val can’t talk to Lewis about what its like to be second best to him. Lewis is a legend made man in his talent, its just not something he would be able to get the way Dan does. For Dan, he lives under the mantle of being funny for everyone, and ends up feeling unable to break that act. Almost suffocated by the walls he built between himself and the grid, that Val sees right through. Val who looks at Dans tight cracked grin, grabs him by the neck, and hauls him in for the hug he desperately needs. Because Val gets it. He gets what its like to have everyone discussing your plateau as they build the path to your fall.

There’s so much angst to go with that comfort too. Angst in Dan making everything a joke so he can shield himself from being rejected by Valtteri. Every line tipped with a blade so he can whip back and defend his wounded ego rather than let himself be hurt again. Val who’s sometimes so solemn and unreacting it comes off as cold and dismissive, who locks up when faced with discomfort and distrust that Dan views him as Lewis’ shadow. Withdrawing into himself rather than bare himself for once. And can you just fucking imagine what its like for Dan, to see Val as a mirror of himself if he’d stayed at RB. If he would have been slowly pushed out?

Is that worse to imagine than the reality of what happened. Thrown to the side by McLaren in a tarnished heap. Mercedes may have forced Val to accept a role as second, but at least they had the decency to ensure he was placed safely before announcing George.

What happens to Val at Mercedes is Dan’s situation if he was in a team that actually loved him. You can say many things about Mercedes and how they treated Val, but at least they meant it when they called him family.

Dantteri is fucking amazing because at its core its about teasing opposites who bond under shared trauma. It’s about Dan finding a safe space in Val, and Val being allowed to complain without judgement. You can imagine them sharing glasses of gin under the stars as jokes give way to honesty. How they wont look away from the sky in case they must confront their vulnerability, but their fingers wind together and squeeze.

[fandom-puff]

Family, Duty, Honour (p2)

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warnings: pregnancy/pregnancy symptoms including vomiting, prejudice towards dwarfism (discussion as to whether Tyrion and YN’s child will inherit his dwarfism; not a widely accepted condition in Westeros), childbirth, details of the death of Joanna Lannister (dying in childbirth/traumatic birth), reference to miscarriage

(Part 1)

Gif creds to owner

“Pardon me, Milord,”

Both Tywin and Tyrion turned around to see a young girl, one of your handmaidens, hurrying towards them, remembering a clumsy curtsey in her haste.

“Speak,” Lord Tywin said sternly, and the girl paled briefly before turning instead to his son.

“It’s Lady YN,” she said, and Tyrion instantly stood up straighter, even more on edge. “She’s… sick, my Lord. Can’t keep anything in her stomach, and just now she fainted,”

“Where is she?” Tyrion asked urgently.

“Her bedchamber, Milord. We got a squire to help her back into bed,”

As Tyrion made to hurry after the girl, Tywin’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder. “I will send the maester. He will prove whether or not you have done your duty to this family,”

***

“YN, my dear, can you hear me?”

Slowly, your heavy eyelids slid open, and you turned your head to the source of the noise. Smiling weakly, you squeezed your husband of two month’s hand.

“Are you alright, my lady wife,” he asked you gently, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy. Must have stood up too quickly,” you said gently, but you did not soothe Tyrion’s worry.

“Your handmaiden said you’ve been ill?” He prompted, and your cheeks heated slightly.

“It’s probably just… my women’s troubles,” you said quietly, still unused to talking about such delicate matters with anyone other than an old septa.

“Or lack thereof, lady Lannister?” The maester spoke up from the end of your bed and you frowned, about to say there really was no need for all this fuss. “The maids say your linen has been clean since your wedding night,”

Clean linen.

Those two words instantly reminded you of when Cousin Cat came to stay at Riverrun with her brooding husband. She had stayed for over a month, and halfway through her stay, you heard gossip of clean linen as you wandered the corridors of your home. Later on that year, she had birthed another child for Ned Stark.

“Does that mean…” you began.

The wisened maester smiled at your bewilderment. “Potentially. If my Lord and Lady are agreeable, I would like to examine lady Lannister to be certain,”

Tyrion smiled gently and kissed your hand once more. “I will give you some privacy, my dear,” he said, and once you nodded, he left the room to bang on the door to his father’s office.

***

“Have you put a babe in her belly?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his father’s callousness. “She is being examined as we speak,”

“Good,” Tywin said, hardly looking up from his paperwork. “You’d best hope she is with child and not ill. There aren’t many noble families willing to pawn off a daughter to us,” Tywin sighed and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit,” he said. “You clearly have something more to say,”

Tyrion was silent for a moment. “I do not want to lose her. She is young. Too young for… this,”

“She is only a few years younger than you. And besides, that didn’t stop you consummating the marriage, did it?”

If anything went on in Casterly rock, Tywin Lannister certainly knew about it within a day.

“No, it didn’t,” Tyrion said. You were nineteen after all, and you had consummated your marriage out of duty to your families.

The night-time visits, on the other hand…

“I’m scared that a baby will… that it will kill her,” Tyrion blurted out, and he could have sworn he saw some semblance of sympathy flash through his father’s eyes. “I am scared that my child will be too much like me. That it will rip her in two and kill her. That it won’t even live in her womb. That it will suffer. That… that she will suffer,”

Tywin stared long and hard at his youngest son, his bastard in all but name as far as he was concerned and sighed. “So am I,” was all he said, before gesturing to the door. And as he left the office, Tyrion knew that Tywin did not care for your suffering, for his suffering, or even for the child’s suffering. He cared only that his legacy remained.

***

Casterly Rock was alive with gossip.

No matter which corridor you walked down, people would stare, both openly and discretely at your belly, which barely showed thanks to the layers you wore (Tyrion insisted you wrapped up warm whenever you walked through the gardens, lest you catch a chill). You could not go a day without the maester inquiring about your general health, and when your swollen ankles were brought to your husband’s attention, he had the cobblers fashion you a pair of comfortable, yet fashionable flat shoes.

***

You were laying in your husband’s bed one night on the sixth moon of your pregnancy, a hand resting on your bump. “Leave the books, husband, and come to bed. I need you to tell your child to stop kicking me so we can all go to sleep. He seems to only listen to you,” Tyrion looked up from his books and sighed, shutting them over and coming to bed, his hand resting over yours. “You’ve gained a sudden interest in midwifery, I see,” you teased, but when he did not smile at your jest, you frowned. “What’s bothering you, husband?” You said gently.

“I…” Tyrion fumbled for the words, his eyes firmly on your belly. “I am frightened, YN,” he said quietly. “That the baby will… will have… will be a little too much like me.”

Of course. You cursed yourself for not even thinking that this could be plaguing your husband. You clasped Tyrion’s hand in yours. “Tyrion… even if the baby is born a dwarf, we will not treat him the way your father treated you,” you insisted, drawing small circles on the back of his hands.

“But what if it kills you like I killed my mother,” your heart ached for him, and you tipped his chin up to face you.

“Then you must promise me to love this child regardless,”

Tyrion’s heart ached. Neither of you had wanted this marriage, yet in the few short months you had been wed he had become fond of you, affectionate. He wanted to protect you from the horrors of a kingdom still reeling from the Rebellion that saw the end of the Mad King. He wanted to see you happy and comfortable and healthy. He would spend all of the gold in Casterly Rock to ensure your safety, despite the fact that your marriage was merely one of strategy arranged by his father and your uncle. You were still his wife, the most precious thing in his life.

But over the past nine months, he could do nothing to alleviate your discomfort. He could only hold back your hair and rub your back as you vomited, the only thing you could seemingly keep in your stomach was dried bread. When you could manage dining anywhere but your chambers, he ordered for the things that turned your stomach to be kept well away. When your legs and feet ached, he could only rub them in hopes of soothing the throbbing. When the baby kicked like mad at night, he rubbed your swollen belly so that you could rest, if only for a few moments at a time.

He watched as the veritable mountain that was your bump sapped you of your energy, and he knew there was nothing he could do to restore it.

And when the time came for you to birth the child, he knew his heart would ache even more as you laboured for hours in agony, with him unable to do anything to take the pain away.

***

You went into labour at night, your sharp gasp of pain as you heaved yourself out of bed waking your husband.

“My dear, are you alright?” He asked urgently, not groggy despite the fact he had been snoring like a boar just thirty seconds prior. As he lit a candle, he saw you grasping onto one of the bedposts, lips pressed together, suppressing your groan. “I will be back in a moment, YN, okay? I’m going to get help,”

“Hurry,”

True to his word, Tyrion returned a few moments later with a few sleepy maids and a septa, who laid fresh linen over the bed and began to send for boiling water. The maester was hot on their heels, scrambling to loop his chains over his neck, before shooing Tyrion and the maids out of the room.

Your groans and cries of pain permeated the walls of your bedchamber and down the hallways of Casterly Rock, and by sunrise, coins were being exchanged on the outcome of your labour. The smallfolk crowded near the walls of the castle, eager to call out prayers in hopes that the rich old lions felt generous after the birth.

Tyrion paced just outside of the room you were in, and every time a maid went in with fresh, boiled water and clean linen or came out with bloodstained cloths and empty bowls, he asked urgently how you were doing, but no one gave him an answer.

The septa left the birthing room, walking straight past the father of your child to… the grandfather. They talked in quick, hushed voices, that could not be heard over your pained cries, but Tyrion caught the two of them looking over their shoulder at him several times.

As the septa went back into the birthing room, Tywin walked over to Tyrion. He seemed to be in no apparent rush, his steps stately. Tyrion resisted the urge to scream at his father, to curse him for tormenting him while you laboured.

“When you were brought into the world,” he began, voice level and low, so Tyrion had to strain to hear what he was saying. “You were born, for lack of a better term, arse first. But then your shoulders got stuck inside the womb, and when you finally emerged, you dragged half of your mother’s womb out with you,”

Both men paled. Not only were they weak stomached when it came to the secretive world of a birthing chamber, but Tywin was plagued with memories from twenty or so years before, and Tyrion was plagued with guilt for killing his mother when he was a newborn, and fear that his child would do the same to you.

Tywin continued. “But the Septa has reported that the child is being born head first, as it should,” Tyrion nodded slowly. Tywin was about to continue when the door opened again.

“Pardon, Milords,” a maid carrying an armful of bloodied linen said. “Lady YN has asked for Lord Tyrion to… support her. The maester has permitted it, so long as Milord stays at the top end of the bed,”

Tyrion was frozen for a moment.

“Go,” Tywin said lowly, giving his son a small shove. “Your lady wife needs you now,”

Tyrion looked over his shoulder, and he was sure he could see a small glimmer of… sympathy in his father’s eye. Kindness even. And it was this look, paired with the shift in the way you screamed that had him running into the birthing chamber.

“Tyrion!” You sobbed, one hand reaching for him, the other reaching above you to grasp at the headboard. One of your trusted hand maids, who you had brought with you from Riverrun was at your other side, pressing a cool cloth to your forehead. Tyrion hurried to your other side, just in time for the maester to tell you to push, and the child was at last parted with your body.

All was silent for a tense few moments, until sharp cries filled the room. You could hear the cheering from the corridors.

“A boy, my lady,” the maester called out, and you sobbed for joy. “A healthy son. A little on the delicate side-”

“Is he-”

“No. He is not like you, my Lord. I delivered you and your siblings, and your son is exactly the size your brother was when he was born,”

“Can I hold him?” You whispered, your arms reaching out.

“Of course, my lady. He is your son,”

The child was handed to you, nuzzled against the bare skin of your breasts, his little cries soon petering out to soft snuffles of sleep. The maester left to deliver the good news to the Lord of Casterly Rock, but your world consisted only of Tyrion and your son.

“He’s perfect,” he said, letting out a relieved laugh. “And he’s going to tower over me when he’s a man grown,” You gave a laugh, happy tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your head on his shoulder. Tyrion pressed his lips to your temple. “You wonderful, wonderful woman, I love you,” he murmured. “I swear to you on the old gods and the new that I will protect you and my son from all harm,”

You rubbed your son’s back gently, not wanted to disturb his sleep and you looked up to your husband. “Thank you,” you whispered. Tyrion, my Lord husband. My love,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi @fullmoonshadowwrites

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

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nani’s 100 followers celebration

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[dianapana]

SasuHina Month 2022 - Day 4

Dor (Romanian)

“The emptiness and agony experienced upon missing someone or something.”

This particular prompt has a special meaning to me. I’m not sure if you are aware, but I am Romanina and the idea of ‘dor’ is something I grew up with, hearing it used in folk songs often, in poetry. I felt compelled to write for this, for it felt wrong not to. ‘Dor’ has many layers, to the point that it is understood as actual physical pain created by being apart from someone/ something/ somewhere that holds immense importance for you.

“Dearest Sasuke, I hope the battlefield is not as ruthless as the women here make it out to be. I can’t stand to listen to them talking about weapons, injuries, the horrors that you may be facing. How can they bare to talk about such topics during the șezătoare*? I always make excuses and leave when the discussion turns to this sour topic.

Nevertheless, I have taken up new hobbies to fill my time. While at șezătoare I started waving a blanket for you, a gift upon your return. I shall try to embryoid it too for you. The older women showed me and a few others the process for a few days, but now I am able to do it by myself.

I doubt I will go to șezătoare as often now, i prefer to work in our home, for it feels like you are still here with me.

I dearly await your return. A part of me hopes that you shall come back, long before I can finish the blanket”

“My dearest Sasuke, I was speaking to some of the other women, and they mentioned losing track of how many days since the departure and I felt alienated from them. How could that be true? I am painfully aware of each second. I felt every minute of every hour of all 62 days since you left.

The house feels empty, and I can’t help but cry daily lately. Your bed sheets have lost their smell. I keep cooking enough food for two people. You full plate hurts me each meal.

Please return home soon. I need to hold you in my arms, the world seems to be in chaos without you.

I finished waving the blanket and I have started the embroidery process; my fingers have been picked endlessly. They shall not heal till you are here to kiss the injury away, so for my sake alone, please return.”

“It has been 19 days since I last received a letter from you my dear. People look at me differently now, with pity and sadness in their eyes. They don’t dare utter the words, but I know what they think. But not I, for they are wrong. Their gazes shall not change my mind.

It has been 81 days since I last laid my eyes on you, since I watched you pack your bags and go to war. A war they started. A war you have fight in. Each day is harder to bear. But I am trying my best Sasuke…I am, for I know you too are doing your best.

You are busy and I understand the lack of reply. I will wait for it. For your letter will come, not only that; but, you shall deliver it yourself. I know that’s why there’s no reply. You wish to surprise me, you are on the way back home and I am waiting my love.”

“I threw away the calendar. How dare it move forward so many days in your absence? Summer is here and I despise it. You left at the beginning of the year. How could time be so cruel and continue as if my world did not pause?

I can no longer eat in your absence my love. The food turns to sand in my mouth, and it tries to kill me. It makes choke on its dryness, it tries to poison me, it wants to break my teeth. But it can’t do that if I do not eat it.

The other women tried to visit me last week, but I locked the door. They want to take your things, I know. They are thieves, they will take everything I have. They want to bury your belongings, those witches, to curse you so you do not return. But I shall not allow them to, I will protect you.”

“I fear I have fallen sick. The doctor says nothing is wrong, but he can’t possibly know better than I do. I can feel my heart failing me for it yearns of something that has been absent far too long.

I am in constant physical pain, as if someone continuedly twists a dagger in my heart. A turn of the dagger each moment, of each day, of each week and month. The agonizing pain does not allow me to sleep.

Even if it did, I wouldn’t sleep, for they are watching me. Waiting for me to close my eyes so they can take you from me. The witches, they come by often.

My love…I fear I can’t hold on much longer. I wish you would write back. I wish you would return. I wish the war would stop. I wish I were there, for the battlefield with all its horrors is more appealing to me than being here without you.

The walls of our house mock me. They laugh at my pain. I can hear them daily. I no longer am able to lay in our bed, I have taken refuge in the closet, surrounded by your clothes. I am scared to take them out of the enclosed space, they will lose your scent.

I have woven and embroidered you shirts and vests. And my dearest creation, the blanket, oh how cold you must be now that winter is approaching. Come so, your blanket can keep you warm my love. The pattern I worked is you, us. I look at it daily wishing for the face on the blanket to come alive.

You must return my dear, for I am fading away, and what disaster would it be, if you were to come home and I would be a ghost.”

“They said you have died my dear. What liars. What witches. It all a ploy. They want to make us believe we are weak. The enemy is here in this village, and they are spewing lies.

You must return Sasuke. You must protect me from their words, for each one is a stone and I am bruised and beaten already.

The enemy came in my sleep to our house my love and they tore it down and built another. This is not our home anymore, so I must leave. I shall wait for you in the snow at the village gate. I have taken your blanket with me so we can both be warm when you arrive.

Come quickly my love for it cold out here,

Love Hinata.”

A lot of the folk songs I mentioned are from the war period depicting how the women left behind grieved waiting for their lovers to return. I hope I managed to depict the depth of ‘dor’ it is often translated as ‘missing someone’ but it goes beyond that.

Also, to explain the little * aka ‘șezătoare’ in English i guess it would be translated as ‘seat/sitting’ but it's an archaic word seldom used. It was a common happening in older times. Everyone from the village would gather in a destinated place and they would talk, gossip even make important decisions as a village (so it served a social and political purpose) Most of the discussions happen while women wove blankets and men would practice woodworking.

@sasuhinamonth

[emiewritesthings]

doctor, doctor - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n takes it into her own hands to look after a sick jay 

a/n: i’m not gonna lie i think this is one of my fav things i’ve ever written, i would really appreciate some feedback and p.s the beginning of it is based on that scene from brooklyn 99 :)

masterlist

“okay, it’s 10 o’clock, meaning halstead is officially an hour late to work,” y/n announced as she appeared from the break room with a mug of poorly made coffee. looking around, she had immediately distracted everyone in the room with her playful smile. “okay let’s do this, theories!” she encouraged, taking a sip with excitement, but immediately regretting it as s he spat it back in the mug and abandoned it on adam’s desk as she leant against it.

“uh, he forgot to set his alarm?” antonio suggested, willing to play along with the little game that y/n had created. however clearly his answer didn’t suffice as y/n scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disappointment.

“you are a detective in a unit that just last week rescued 5 people kidnapped and used as chess pieces in a human sized version of the game and the best you could come up with is he forgot to set his alarm? pfft, disappointing, dawson. who’s willing to take this seriously?” she scoffed, brushing his idea off with a simple roll of the eyes as the group laughed at her ridiculousness. 

“maybe he has been murdered by a gang looking for revenge.” adam piped up, earning a sudden and rather forceful slap on the back as y/n cheered. her eyes looking over at antonio as she gestured towards the less experienced detective.

“yes, that’s what i’m talking about. bit dark, ruzek, but better than dawson’s,” y/n hummed, adam clearly pleased with the praise he had received by the pretty detective. “any one else wanna shot?” she offered it out into the room, suddenly the sound of rolling wheels on the chair had everyone turn to face al who was munching on a ham sandwich.

“he walked into the middle of a drug ring, slept with the kingpins daughter and is now having limbs removed, one by the hour.” suddenly an eery silence fell in the bullpen as al suddenly disappeared back to his desk and everyone was left with an image that she was sure was burned on the inside of everyones mind.

“uh, okay, someone might want to arrange a psych check for olinsky asap,” y/n mumbled, pointing in the direction where he had once been and looking around as if checking that she hadn’t been the only one to hear al’s suggestion. “anyways, all of you are wrong. clearly he has joined a motorbike gang and now makes his money on the road striking off names on the government’s hit list.” 

just as the room erupted into discussion about how idiotic this conversation was, as well as their ideas, the sound of footsteps caught y/n’s attention as she arrived at her desk. however as he reached the floor, the reason for his absence was clear.

“woah, you look like death.” adam chuckled, it immediately being silenced as jay sent a deadly glare his way. with his skin paler than normal with undertones of green, a layer of sweat draped over his forehead. jay flashed as smile at y/n as he passed, reaching his desk and collapsing on his chair with a wince. 

as everyone went back to what they were doing, y/n found herself straying her eyes away from her computer screen for longer and longer periods of time until she found herself by his side with a sickly sweet grin, pun intended. 

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/l/n.” jay mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers hoping it would somehow sooth his pounding skull. whilst usually he had every minute of his day just to hear the woman chat away about whatever crossed her mind, he had found himself in quite the state since last night, leaving him restless and irritable.

“believe it or not, i just wanted to make sure you were alright,” y/n’s entire demeanour crumbled as she melted at the soft features of his face that came with being so vulnerable. but from the look in jay’s eyes, it was clear he didn’t 100% believe her excuse. “and to ask what the hell you think you are doing here? you are sick jay, you need to rest.” 

it was very rare that jay found himself ill. in the years that y/n had been working by the man’s side, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him with so much as a cough. in fact she had called him captain immune system for a period of time when she realised he was pretty much indestructible. y/n couldn’t deny the concern bubbling in her gut seeing him so weak.

“i’m fine,” with her eyes slitted in a look that practically shouted ‘bullshit’, jay continued. “i promise, it’s just a little cold. nothing serious, i think i’ll survive.” he joked dryly, finding it incredibly hard to look away from y/n for her eyes were filled with a warmth that he knew was an expression usually saved for those she cared deeply about. 

“yeah well, you need to take care of yourself, jay, i’m being serious. chicago can cope if you just have one day off, get your energy back.” 

y/n was reminded of the times she had the exact same words spoken to her by the exact person that didn’t seem to want to take them onboard. every time she had so much as a sniffle he would be straight over with some soup that his mother used to swear by and the name of a box set that he would put on for the two of them to watch as he sat stroking her hair in order to try and convince her body to rest. neither of them had anyone else to take care of them, so had taken it upon themselves to be that person for the other. 

“now, i’m gonna go tell voight that i’m taking you home before you infect this whole office.” before he could object, she had already ran (not literally but jay was impressed by her speed walking) to her boss’ office. knocking on the door, with a sweet smile and a sea of words running off her tongue so quickly that voight had to agree just to shut her up, y/n returned by his side. “come on, germ face, your carriage awaits.” 

“you know i love it when you talk dirty to me, y/l/n.” winking at her, y/n giggled as she supported him back down the stairs and out of the station. the two chatted away, y/n explaining how she thought al was secretly a sociopath and jay filing her in on the newest instalment of his apartment block drama until they pulled up in front of jay’s apartment building. 

as they walked through the door, jay’s arm resting around y/n’s shoulders as he struggled to find strength, they managed to reach the sofa before y/n’s body gave up. both of them letting out large breathes before looking at each other and falling into laughter. 

“you hungry, i could try making your mom’s soup?” y/n asked, as she pushed herself up to look down at the man. her hair falling down around her face and tickling jay’s skin. “i’m sure it won’t be as good as her’s but i’m willing to give it a try.” 

the way she was sat with the large window gleaming light behind her, y/n almost looked like an angel. her eyes and smile were wide, with her beauty wrapping its hands around jay’s neck squeezing until his head felt light and he nearly reached up to touch her porcelain skin. but jay had noticed the sensation way before he was blocked up with a cold.

“yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” jay agreed with a minimal amount of sass, but y/n didn’t seem to notice as she moved off the cushions and towards the kitchen. she had pretty much memorised the recipe when jay had finally given it to her on her birthday after offering to pay for it multiple times. whizzing around the kitchen, she was too busy to notice the tired eyes admiring her from afar. 

jay wished his mom was alive to see the woman that she would have loved. all the times he had brought girls back to his family when he was younger didn’t add up to an ounce of the beauty and power that y/n held in her middle finger. the way she bit back at his wit, but also had the ability to spot when he was upset from the other side of the city. she was everything her mother wanted in a daughter in law, everything she wanted for her little boy. 

“okay, give me your honest opinion. i can take it i promise.” y/n sudden appeared with a tray that held a large bowl of the semi-thick orange liquid, a glass of water and a couple pills. approaching jay, she carefully helped him up from where he laid and placed it onto his lap. “actually that was a complete lie, do not tell me the truth. i may just cry.” 

“why thank you, nurse y/l/n.” he teased.

“it’s doctor actually.” she quipped back.

jay chuckled lowly, as he grabbed the spoon and took a large spoonful to his mouth. feeling the slight sting of his tongue at the heat, it was only when the flavours hit that he was suddenly transported to an earlier time in his life. a simpler time. only this time there was y/n by his side. 

“the verdict?” she prompted, taking a seat besides him, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

“not sure whether i want to tell you, don’t think you’ll fit in this room if your ego grows any bigger.” y/n grinned as she leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder. jay closed his eyes at the contact, feeling the ache in his body freeze for a moment as it registered the tingling sensation. “all jokes aside, it really is good.” 

“i’m glad, your mother was a smart woman.” she nodded, leaning forward to turn tv on. jay continued to spoon the soup into his mouth, as y/n chose a show that they both had started together and had refused to watch another minute without the other. y/n leaned back making herself comfortable, having already texted voight telling him that she would most likely need the entire day off, and getting the go ahead, she had no plans other than being by jay’s side for the next however many hours. 

it was sometime in the early evening and the tv continued to emit light, but neither jay nor y/n was paying any attention to the drama. jay, with his head on y/n lap, was leaning into her touch as her short, thin fingers ran through the dark strands that sprouted from his scalp. his body wrapped in a blanket that y/n had grabbed from his room, he felt completely at peace. 

“you know what, i think you are more bearable when you are at death’s door.” y/n joked quietly, as the forest green eyes were exposed back to her own. jay groaned in annoyance, realising that there was no sweet y/n without the sharped tongue y/n. a trait he adored, but at his own expense. 

“and to think i was starting to think you had gone soft on me, y/l/n.” he hummed, wishing he could forever have her giggle on repeat wherever he went, for the sound made goosebumps run down his neck and down his arms, like some kind of magic that only y/n possessed. 

“as much as i love you, i can’t risk my bad ass reputation for you.” 

although jay was sure it was just part of her banter, the moment the ‘i love you’ fell off her tongue, he found himself wide awake, unable to push past the feeling in his gut as it looped over again and again in his mind. y/n could see the conflict in his face, as he glanced up at her with something she had never noticed before. 

“you mean it?” he asked. 

“mean what?” confused, her fingers fell from his hair, making jay regret ever opening his mouth.

“do you really, you know, love me?” he knew he had committed too far to try and retreat. maybe he could blame it on the fact he couldn’t think straight, although she was like a lie detector that wouldn’t let such a bogus excuse pass. y/n blinked down at him, watching as he sat up to look at her with a hunger that needed to be addressed. swallowing the lump in her throat, y/n nodded.

“of course, you are one of my best friends, jay.” it was true, but it wasn’t the full truth, both of them knew that.

“i didn’t realise we had started lying to one another,” jay’s eyes were soft, as he reached to place his hand against her cheek, smiling as she slowly leaned into it. closing her eyes, she tried to find what direction she was looking for, but didn’t dare take the first step. without even thinking, jay jutted forward and captured her lips before they could form a single syllable. 

gently, but passionately, jay and y/n moved their lips against the others. the feeling was ever-growing as the kiss deepened and deepened until they had no choice to pull back, deprived of their ability to breath. as jay’s eyes came back into view, y/n, for the first time in her life, had lost the ability to form a sentence. 

“we just...” she began but it ran off quickly. jay chuckled.

“we did.”

the two sat in silence, examining the other one’s face until y/n found herself moving forward until she was sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as she pressed her lips against his. just like before their bodies and minds were set ablaze with desire and what had remained unspoken for what felt like forever. jay had nearly completely forgotten about the illness that had put him in the care of the woman that he craved more than anything else the world had to offer. 

as their lips parted ways, suddenly the air had thinned and everything felt... normal. jay’s lips were unable to break out of the large grin mould that y/n had put them in, which was soon mirrored by the young woman. a small giggle escaping her lips.

“if i get whatever it is you have, i expect the exact same treatment.” 

“only for you, doctor y/l/n.”

[youryanderedaddy]

I like your posts, it's always cool. May i ask a yandere concept between an innocent, protected princess and a prince who obsessed with her from the first time they met, and force against her will. Thanks so much, love your writing :3

Thanks, anon, that means a lot <3 If you haven't noticed, I am oBseSSed with royalty stuff so I rlly enjoyed writing this. It's slightly different tho, but the idea is there.

Title: We all fall down

tw: female reader, non - consensual touching, obsessive behavior, coercion, implied forced marriage, war mention, abuse of power

It was cold when you woke up, terribly so. The room was spacious enough, there was bright sunlight coming from all four windows on each wall and you were sure that your sheets were warm and puffy even without looking down at them, yet it still felt freezing. You soon realized the place wasn’t simply cold, it was different too. It looked nothing like your own room back at the Southern Palace with its countless colourful pictures, books shattered all over the ground and a fireplace just across the queen – sized bed. Before you had a chance to sigh in annoyance, a quick glance to the other side reminded you of the bigger problem. Him.

“Good morning, princess.” The man greeted you cheerfully, his voice still deep and husky from the early hour. He was laying against the wooden doorframe, the sly smirk you had grown to hate over the years once again adorning his red lips. You stared at him for a moment, then rubbed your eyes to chase the fatigue away, fruitlessly so. You were too tired and sleep – deprived to play – pretend, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the nobleman.

“You don’t look too well, princess.” He teased with a cheeky grin and walked towards the bed, stopping just before his legs hit the edge of the frame. You puffed softly, but remained quiet just so you wouldn’t have to answer him just yet. “And look at your state, darling…” The heir continued, clicking his tongue in a mocking “tsk, tsk,tsk”. “Your nightgown is a mess, I can see all of your beautiful curves.” The heir paused to lick his lips in a disgusting, suggestive way, and you had to repress the need to vomit all over the beautiful yellow sheets. “In our kingdom such appearance counts as an invitation, did you know that?” He added, smiling sharply, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, satisfied at the way his words made you embarrassed, flustered and jumpy so early in the morning.

“Your Highness, I would like to properly remind you that it was you who forced me to drink and dance all night.” You responded heatedly, all while fixing the straps of your silky dress to at least cover your cleavage. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand for a second. It’s your fault that I look like this.” You remarked, slightly offended by the man’s jokes, despite being used to his terrible humor after all those long years of shared parties and celebrations.

“If that is really so, my lady, please let me make it up to you.” The prince replied in the same smooth, carefree voice of his, the one he used before while talking to the maids and the peasant girls he wanted to bed. It made you sick to think of yourself as just another of his conquests, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth – you couldn’t stand the dark – haired male, his arrogance and absolute ignorance. “Join me for breakfast and I shall have our best cook serve your favorite meal.” The heir announced and winked at you before turning on his heels and finally leaving the room without hearing whether you agreed to his offer or not. You didn’t even have the chance to ask him how he knew what your favorite dish was or why he entered your room without permission, such a lack of manners was unsuited for a soon-to-be king. Perhaps you could use his inconsiderate behavior as an excuse to stay in bed until lunch but deep down you knew it was pointless. The egotistic little bastard knew you had no choice since you two had a lot to discuss.

---

The breakfast, if not anything else, was rich and delicious, each bite tasty and mouth – watering. The sweet aroma of cinnamon tea, vanilla and powdered sugar filled your senses with ease and a little bit of nostalgia for your childhood. The hardest part was yet to come, you wanted to deal with it fast and go home as soon as possible. As for Arthur, it was the first time you saw him serious with his brows arched and his thoughts all over the place. The uneasiness came back with full force.

“I think you know what we want, princess.” The male declared sternly after looking at the map for a while. His eyes were blue and clear, piercing in the way they were focused on you and you alone with no one else in the hall to act as a barrier between you and the monster. You understood why it had to be only you two, but these deals were always an open secret in both kingdoms, so there weren’t many reasons to keep the tradition going. “We want our territory back. We want you to surrender.” The heir hissed eerily under his breath, his pupils fixed on your frame, burning the skin underneath the thick layer of rough fabric.

You didn’t know how to respond to this – the dynasty’s requests had always been ridiculous and far – fetched, but never as impossible as this one. Yes, your land used to belong to the East centuries ago, but after several long, bloody, sacrificial wars where many of your men lost their lives, it was won fair and square. Now all your subjects lived there happily and freely, rightfully so.

“Your Majesty, please don’t dwell on the past. It will never come back.” You responded shortly after, laughing nervously at the end, hoping that would be enough for Arthur to drop the subject. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“Is that so, dearest? You have two weeks then.” The prince said coldly, narrowing his eyes like a fox. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly got cut off. “Prepare your troops, train the soldiers, announce the incoming war to your people.” The man chuckled darkly and threw the map all the way across the room. “You better get ready for a thunderstorm.” He added just to mess with you some more, just to see your face turn white from the shock and the panic.

“You can’t do that!” You shouted out suddenly and stood up from your chair, feeling cornered and suffocated. You hated the prince’s constant teasing and flirty remarks but you would have never guess him to be a cold-blooded conqueror. “This is too cruel even for you!” You screamed, the tears already blooming down your cheeks, hot and wet. Arthur spared you one condescending look before moving closer and trapping your body against the table, towering over you both physically and metaphorically, as if saying “Let’s see who has the stronger mind.”

“I will get what I want no matter the cost and there is little you can do to stop me, princess.” The heir pronounced slowly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hard gaze, full of intense yet unreadable emotion. There was nothing left of the sly cheerful boy standing against your doorframe, teasing you about meaningless little things, and you almost missed him now. “But what you can do is stop the needless violence and bloodshed, Y/N.” You despised the way your eyes lit up at his words, but, as always, your duty was above your comfort and happiness. “What can I do?” You uttered quietly, a part of you too scared to hear the answer, the other anticipating it.

“Marry me.” The prince stated in a deep patronizing voice. His eyes were dark and sharp, just like before, and there wasn’t a trace of his usual gleeful smile. He grabbed your wrists in a painful grip and pulled them up, holding them against his broad shoulders. “We can unite the kingdoms and live our Happily Ever After. No one has to die.” The man whispered surprisingly softly, his chest heaving with each passing breath. “I can make you happy, dearest.”

You gasped in shock as soon as the proposal left his lips. Every fiber in your body was frozen still, your whole being shaken up by the unexpected offer.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You asked frantically, squirming to loosen up his grasp on your hands just to feel it tighten up even more. This was going to bruise for sure. “Isn’t it obvious?” The noble exhaled slowly, staring at you, trying desperately to find the compassion and affection he hoped you had grown to hold for him over the years. His heart broke once he realized there wasn’t any, but it didn’t matter. Feelings could change in a matter of minutes.

“I’ve loved you since day one, my princess.” His attention drifted to your open mouth, especially your soft full lips. Oh, how much he dreamt of taking you and relishing in the whines and moans you would surely let out once he decided to claim you as his own. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.” The heir confessed, his face moving closer and closer to your own, forcing you to arch your back more and more until it hit the table. Before you knew it, he was pinning you to the hard wooden surface, caging you in, kissing you violently, furiously. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t say no.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭 || 𝐍𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐝!𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

summary: Steve always loved tying you up when he had to work.

warnings: SMUT. dom!steve. heavy bondage; hogtied. degradation. dirty talk. rough oral sex. overstimulation. asphyxiation.

word count: 1,730

author’s note: based off the gif of Chris Evans telling Dodger to “Stop”, but then Nomad!Steve came to mind and the rest was history. 

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.

The dark kitchen flooring is harsh under your naked chest as a puddle of drool forms below your face forcing you to keep your head elevated. The ropes were pulled tight this time around leaving no room for compromise.

You teethed around the small red ball gag, softly groaning from the ache and the pressure forming in your tendons. You’d need a long, soothing bath after Steve was done with his meeting.

Pins and needles prickled your feet as they reached towards the sky bound securely to the rope forcing your hands to your lower back. Any time you shifted your rope covered arms, your ankles would move with them, making it impossible to have any control.

Your shoulders were starting to groan under the tension. Maybe if you were able to turn to one side your feet would no longer tingle and the pain in your upper body would quell.

You could feel his eyes the moment you started wiggling more than usual.

He always loved tying you up when he had a meeting, he relishes knowing you’ll be there waiting for him. The obvious distraction of peering over his laptop to find you so helpless drove him mad. He couldn’t help but smirk when you’d huff at him through the gag and writhe for his pleasure.

You angled your feet as far to the side as you could without dislocating your shoulders but without good momentum you were going nowhere.

His boisterous laugh meant he was still paying attention to the conversation coming over the small speakers but you knew he’d be keeping a close eye.

Swinging your feet to one side you threw them to the opposite almost succeeding and rolling to your side but you fell back onto your belly with a soft grunt.

“One moment.” Steve said with a hint of annoyance.

He muted his mic and walked a few paces to your struggling form, still pathetically attempting to turn on your side.

His fingers dove between the band of the ball gag and your scalp keeping you stock still. He tipped your head up looking down at you through his lashes, “If you make any more noise, I won’t hesitate to get the wand and leave you strapped to it until dinner.”

You whimpered under his hard stare, eyes falling to the floor in humiliation.

“Understand?”

You slowly blinked in response, moaning around the gag causing more drool to slip out the corners of your lips.

“That’s my Good Girl.” Steve beamed, slipping his hold from the gag and turning you back onto your belly. Your ribs compressed against the flooring uncomfortably causing you to groan as he walked back to the table and unmuted his mic.

“Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

His eyes flicked to you, wishing you’d make a noise just so he could watch you suffer a bit longer in the intricate bondage. The thought of standing over your body as you squirmed and cried out to him made his cock harden.

“Not a problem, Mr. Rogers.” A fellow colleague chimed before breaking off into hapless chatter.

The discussion passed by slowly. You stared at the base of the kitchen island and at the rug where you’d stand while doing dishes, barely listening to the conversation.

It was hard work keeping your head up for so long. The muscles in your neck screamed at you to let them rest. The tendons were burning and felt ready to snap at any moment. You tried to move again, wiggling your secured body as much as you could away from the growing puddle beneath your chin.

You struggled endlessly, trying to not hit the ground with your knees as you gained enough drive to fall onto your side with an ‘oopmh’. Your face pinched, a mix of fear and failure painting your features knowing everyone on the call heard you. 

If your jaw could tremble it would’ve once your eyes landed on Steve.

He hid the fiery blaze well when a co-worker asked if everything was ok. Steve flashed his million-dollar smile and smoothed a hand over his beard, “All good, Ma’am.”

As much as the pain receded in your arms and your feet no longer felt numb, the shame of disappointing Steve consumed you. You let your head fall to the side, resting while you could because once the chat was over you knew there would be hell to pay.

Not long after you shut your eyes you heard feet pounding closer to your frame shocking you from the light slumber.

Steve pulled you back onto your belly by your arms and loosened the knot at your knees before forcing a wand vibrator harshly between your thighs and nestling it against your folds flicking the power on to the highest setting.

Your body jolted sharply in the binds. You wriggled trying to lessen the intense vibrations as they pulsed through your core.

“You brought it on yourself, Doll.” He crooned, stepping on your arms with his wing tipped shoes forcing you to pause your movements, “If you want to make it up to me, you’ll stay still.”

He unlaced a cord of rope from your ankles and unstrapped the ball gag from your tired, over stretched lips. He gave you a moment to work your jaw around, easing the tension it held before looping a strand of rope around your neck and pulling taut.

Your head was now locked in an upright position by the rope around your ankles keeping you exactly how he wanted.   

“You fucked up big time… but I’ll just take it out on these pretty little holes.” You whimpered pitiably as his fingers dove between your lips causing you to sputter and cough. His free hand pulled out his girthy cock and tapped it over your tear-stained cheeks.

The powerful sensation between your legs was making you squeal and shimmy your body, unsure if you were trying to get away or move closer to the wicked piece of plastic.

“Look at you making such a mess.” He grinned wickedly as he lined up his cock to your swollen, spit soaked lips. “These are my fuck holes. Isn’t that right?”

You instinctively nod, cutting off your air with the rope as it pulled on your ankles. Your eyes bug fearfully as your breathing diminishes quickly. Steve loosens the tension with his fingers, sliding between the rope, “Gotta be careful, Sweetheart. I’m the only one who decides when you breathe and when you don’t.” He says with a sly grin.

Suddenly, his cock slides past your lips with a swift punch to your tonsils and it makes you heave.

“Shhh, you’ve taken my cock like this many times, don’t be so dramatic.”

His hips shove forward, grunting with every pass over your tongue as he slots his hands behind your head and literally skull fucks you. There was no time to breathe, his thrusts were so fast and steady you only got air when he allowed it.

Spit and precum fell from your lips, traveling down your neck and gracing your bosom as his balls slapped against your sticky chin. Steve looked like a lewdly pantied watercolor as you shed tears freely while he had his way with your mouth.

He pushed on your ankles, forcing the rope to tighten around the sensitive column of your neck, muffling, frantic moans vibrated his cock as you struggled in your binds like a wild bird caught in a net.

“I love it when you get desperate, makes my cock so fucking hard.” He growled, releasing his grip on your ankles and sliding free from your lips.

You suck in panicky breaths before his bulbous crown is kissing your lips once more. The rope eats into your skin with every needy thrust, pushing you closer to the edge as the vibrations from the wand make your core spasm.  

“Can’t believe you haven’t come yet. You must be learning, Doll.” He teased, leaning over your frame and grabbing the wand, “But right now, you’re gonna come.”

Spit landed on your plump cheeks, dripping down to your puckered hole, “Gonna have you screamin’ around my cock. Hell, maybe I’ll even make you pass out. I’ve always wanted to try that.”

There was no time to consider his threat as a digit swirled around your rim before pushing past the tight muscle. His cock rumbled from your hearty moans as he fingered your ass, double penetrating you brazenly.

Everything was too much and not enough. He brought you to the edge so quickly as he dragged his finger over your walls and invaded your taste buds with his musk.

“There’s nowhere to go, Sweetheart. I want you to come, so you’re gonna come.” He ordered before shoving his length into your throat and cutting off your air. Your body shook in the confines when he added a second finger, spreading you open obscenely.

The twisting in your belly goes taut and you scream your blissful release around his thickness. He slides from your lips finally allowing you to breathe as you suck in copious amounts of oxygen and try not to cough them away.

Steve shifts back onto his knees, sliding his fingers from your hole before wrapping them around his spit soaked length, curling with precision as the burning in your lungs tempers.

His face pinches with ecstasy as he jerks his cock over you, ragged grunts fill the room when he comes with a deep growl. Warmth hits your face in abundance; splatters of thick seed coat your skin, sticking to your brow and hairline. 

The spend slowly dries in a rich layer as you hear him shuffle and zip his pants. “Well, you’ve got about another hour and a half to go before dinner.” Steve mentioned in passing, as he glanced at his wrist watch.

Steve didn’t bother to wipe his seed from your face, pleased with how debauched you looked hogtied on the kitchen floor. His sticky spend sealing your eyes shut as you writhed under the forceful vibrations from the wand still strapped to your mound.

He fixed the ball gag back into your mouth, “tsks” at your annoyed whimpers when you pathetically fought him. By the time he opened his laptop and set to work again, you screamed out in euphoria as your second of many orgasms that afternoon consumed you.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

BAKEUDEKU ANYTHING

Oh I GOT you anon!! Enjoy this lil smutty BKDK fic that takes place in the UA library 💕

Beneath the Bookshelves | BakuDeku

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya 💋

Summary: It's Class A's 3rd year at UA, and Bakugo & Izuku are 18 years old. Katsuki and Izuku have been hot for each other for years, but have never discussed it. Katsuki asks Izuku to accompany him to the library during finals week, and the two do some *studying* amongst the shelves.

Genre: Smut, Romance, S*xual Tension

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, hand jobs, dirty talk, teasing

💕Link to My Master List 💕

Beneath the Bookshelves

“Hey, nerd. I need something from the library – let’s go.”

Katsuki is leaning against the doorframe of Izuku’s dorm room, arms crossed. It’s a Saturday evening towards the end of the semester, so most of their classmates are in their rooms studying or training for the practical exams. Up until this moment, Izuku has had his head buried in his math textbook, trying desperately to wrap his mind around quadratic equations. He was just thinking about texting Ida or YaMomo for help when Katsuki appeared.

“Oh, hey Kacchan.” Izuku says brightly, looking up at his friend. Over the past 3 years of school, Katsuki has really filled out. He’s less wiry, more muscular and solid. His jawline is more defined than ever, and now sports a soft layer of blonde stubble. His mouth is set in its typical hard line, a sure sign that the young hero is in a bad mood. Izuku’s stomach does a summersault as he pries his eyes away from Katsuki’s soft cupids bow. “For sure, I could use a break. What do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get going.” Katsuki jerks his head in the direction of the library and Izuku scrambles up to stow away his math books before following along. They walk through the dorm and out onto the quad in silence, Izuku looking at his friend quizzically.

It’s a nice night out – the stars sparkle up above them and a light breeze dances through Izuku’s recently cut hair. He’s feeling nostalgic as he looks at Katsuki walking ahead of him, watching as his friend angrily stomps towards the UA library building up ahead. How many times have they walked like this – Katsuki marching irritably, Izuku a few paces behind? He smiles softly as they cross the library’s threshold and the warm light of the building bathes them both in gold.

At this hour of night, the library is practically devoid of life. The only soul in the space appears to be the elderly librarian who sits sorting books at the front desk. They nod at her as they make their way towards the stairs and to the upper floors. Izuku pauses at the second floor, looking towards the math section. It’s their first final, so naturally he assumes that’s the sector Katsuki needs to visit. But he’s wrong – Katsuki rolls his eyes at Izuku and continues to stomp up the next flight of stairs. They continue like that – up, up, up until they are at the fifth floor.

The fifth floor of the library is an area Izuku hasn’t spent much time exploring. It’s where all of the oversized books are kept – the art books, the cookbooks, the graphic novels. It’s a space that, unfortunately, the Hero Course students don’t get to frequent. Sure, he’s taken a liberal arts course or two at UA, but the Hero course does not put much emphasis on the arts or culture. So Izuki is surprised when he sees how easily Katsuki navigates the floor and its various rooms, booths and study sections. It’s as if he’s been coming here consistently over the past three years.

The explosion hero leads Izuku to the back of the floor, past a few study rooms and rows of books. Finally, Katsuki looks over his shoulder at Izuku to ensure he is still close behind. The green haired boy is surprised to see a slight blush of embarrassment heating up his friend’s face. Katsuki stops in the architecture section, taking care to push a large shelf slowly to the side. Izuku is surprised when the shelf reveals a small, secret alcove hidden amongst the rows of books. There’s a red cushioned loveseat hidden amongst the shelves. Art and architecture books line the space floor to ceiling. An All Might plush blanket is folded across the side of the couch, and as Izuku enters the space he notices a few pictures and mementos stashed here and there within the shelves. It’s shockingly private and cozy.

“What is this place, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, running a finger along the book spines closest to him. Katsuki rearranges the loose shelving unit, effectively sealing them into the cozy space. Izuku is suddenly hyperaware of how alone they are. He feels Katsuki staring at his back, and a faint flicker of arousal zings up his spine.

“This is where I come to study and get away from all the damn distractions of the dorms.” Katsuki says, deliberately not looking at Izuku as he sits down on one of the loveseat cushions. Izuku looks back over his shoulder and drinks in his friend – Katsuki is sitting comfortably, his long legs crossed casually on the couch. He’s wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a tight fitting black band tee. He looks so casually gorgeous that Izuku feels his heart flutter up to his throat.

“I always wondered where you went off to when we had group study sessions.” Izuku says thoughtfully, peering over to look at a photo of Katsuki and All Might from their first Sports Festival. All Might is grinning and posing – giving the camera two thumbs ups. Katsuki is chained to the podium, the gold metal from the festival clutched in his angry jaws. Izuku reaches out a finger to trace across the photo, touching the photo Katsuki’s harsh jawline. He chuckles before turning back to his friend. “This place is awesome! You deserve a quiet spot with solitude. I know how annoyed you get when everyone is noisy.”

“Yeah. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it.” Katsuki grins, referring to his ability to yell and be a dick around their friend group.

“Thanks for showing me this place.” Izuku sits down next to him on the couch. He’s hyperaware of how his hand is just inches from Katsuki’s. “So what do you need? Did you forget a book here or something?”

Katsuki shifts uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I’ve been really stressed about exams lately. And this being our final year at UA, I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure.”

Izuku nods, he’s definitely been feeling the same way. The pressure and expectations of the future are weighing heavily on all of their shoulders this year. They are Class A – the class that defeated Shigaraki. The class that helped win the war. There are expectations for each of them – they are the new symbols of peace. At times, it feels like the weight of the world is resting upon their young shoulders.

“I understand.” Izuku says empathetically. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ve been having similar feelings lately as we start to wrap up our first semester as third years.”

“There’s just so much happening right now. I wish I could slow everything down. Do some things over.” Katsuki is deliberately avoiding Izuku’s gaze now. He’s shifting uneasily in his seat, his hip accidentally bumping Izuku’s.

“What would you do over?” Izuku asks blankly. Katsuki ignores him.

“I brought you here because I kinda want to blow off some steam, and you’re the only one who I want to do it with.” Katsuki says, a rosy red blooming in his pale cheeks.

Izuku’s not sure if he’s hearing correctly. Katsuki’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and Izuku can’t imagine how they would possibly “blow off steam” in the cramped quarters of Kacchan’s hidden library den. Unless…?

Izuku turns to his friend, confused. “What do you - ?” But he’s cut off when Katsuki grabs him by the collar and pulls him into a searing kiss. Izuku did not anticipate this, and so he’s caught by surprise. He tumbles backwards with the force of Katsuki’s momentum and ends up awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. Katsuki is half on top of him and getting as close as humanly possible. His mouth is hot and wet and impossibly soft as it moves against Izuku’s with a ferocity that only Katsuki can dish out.

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to recover and then respond enthusiastically, throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck and winding fingers into his soft blonde hair. Katsuki is kissing him desperately, mouth moving and sliding fervently against Izuku’s willing mouth.

“I’ve wanted this…for so….long.” Katsuki huffs out between kisses, his hand moving up to ghost along Izuku’s throat.

“Ah! Kacchan…” Izuku moans as Katsuki moves to kiss down his neck, carefully sussing out the most sensitive spots of Izuku’s skin. The green haired hero is in absolute heaven, enjoying each soft kisses and caresess that Katsuki is kind enough to share.

After a few minutes of desperate kissing, Katsuki realizes what an uncomfortable position Izuku is in. He pulls himself off of the One For All wielder and offers out a hand to Izuku. The green haired teen takes it, and allows Katsuki to pull him out of the plush couch until he’s sitting upright again. They both spend a moment catching their breaths before Izuku turns to face his friend.

“W-what was that?” He asks, breathlessly. His eyes zero in on Katsuki’s plush mouth, practically begging the explosion hero to get back to kissing him.

“I just need to do something physical right now to get out all my energy. And I’ve been wanting to kiss you for God knows how long.” Katsuki leans forward and kisses along Izuku’s flushed freckled face. “Let me keep going?”

Izuku nods, for once he’s not babbling. He snakes his hand up to cup Katsuki’s cheek and pulls the blonde towards him. Their lips meet again and he lets out a soft moan of contentment.

Katsuki brings his hand down to rest on Izuku’s chest, appreciating the toned muscle that’s taught even under his friend’s thick All Might t-shirt. He smooths his hand down towards Izuku’s waist, and dips it under the navy blue t-shirt fabric so that he can fully appreciate his friend’s washboard abs.

“Oh!” Izuku pulls away in surprise at the contact, not used to being touched in such a way. Katsuki takes advantage of the break in kissing and moves to suck and bite at the One For All wielder’s smooth neck. He continues to spread his fingers wide across Izuku’s stomach, sliding his fingers up to feel his strong chest. Izuku is absolute putty in his hands, melting into each touch and kiss. As Katsuki kisses down his neck he glances down to see Izuku is hard in his comfy joggers. Izuku’s cock is outlined clear as day in the thin material. Katsuki smirks and lifts his friend’s shirt up to reveal pale, lightly scarred skin.

“Take this off already.” He practically growls, helping Izuku to pull the fabric over his head. Izuku can’t get it off fast enough, he just wants Katsuki’s hands and mouth back on him as soon as possible.

Katsuki has seen Izuku shirtless countless times – in the locker room, in the dorms, in battle. And each time he’s caught a glimpse of his friend’s unclothed body he’s quickly looked away. Not this time. Katsuki just wants to look and look and look until his eyes no longer work.

Despite the criss-cross of scars across Izuku’s torso and arms, Katsuki thinks he looks absolutely goddamn beautiful. He wonders for a moment if he should say so, if that’s something that people do in these kinds of situations.

“You should take off your shirt, too.” Izuku says huskily, shaking Katsuki from his inner thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki says challengingly, a bit more harsh than he intended. Izuku meets his gaze with a level stare. He’s gotten so much tougher in the past few years, his quirk lending him a newfound confidence that he had lacked in their childhood.

“It’s only fair.” The green haired man states, moving to pull Katsuki’s tight shirt off by the sleeves. He doesn’t fight back, allowing Izuku to whip the band tee over his fluffy blonde hair. Izuku’s bright green eyes grow wider as he’s faced to face with Katsuki’s rippling muscles. The blonde is a little more built up than Izuku, but not by much. Katsuki is almost ashamed at the way he goes red under Izuku’s thirsty gaze.

“Kacchan…you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Izuku says reverently, reaching out gentle fingers to caress Katsuki’s exposed flesh. He runs a fingertip down from Katsuki’s collar all the way to his bellybutton, and then bravely traces down the fuzzy blonde happy trail that disappears into his waistband. Katsuki shivers at the contact, having never been touched so lovingly. He bites back a smile.

“And what about you? Looking like a goddamn dream over there.” Katsuki pushes his friend into the couch and moves to straddle him, kissing every bit of exposed flesh he can reach. Izuku is laughing now, wrapping his arms around his friend loosely so he an enjoy the closeness.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a while…” Katsuki whispers as he lightly bites the shell of Izuku’s ear.

“What’s that?” Izuku asks, breathless. His eyes are hazy and he cups his hands around Katsuki’s cheeks and pulls his friend back into a searing kiss. Katsuki all but dissolves into the kiss, sliding his mouth against Izuku’s in the most delicious way.

“You taste so damn good.” He whispers in between kisses, bringing their mouths together again and again. He revels in the feeling of their bare chests pressed flush together. He can feel Izuku’s hardness collide gently with his own through his sweatpants, bringing out a breathy moan from his throat.

He gives Izuku a few more kisses before shifting to sit next to him on the couch once again. He slides his hand down from his friend’s neck, to his chest, and then down his stomach until he reaches the waistband of Izuku’s soft All Might branded joggers.

“I wanna get you off.” Katsuki hisses, sliding his hand on top of Izuku’s hardness and giving him a tantalizing squeeze through his joggers. “Shit, are you not wearing underwear? I can feel you right through these.”

Izuku’s face turns impossibly redder and he splutters out “I had no idea I was going to be whisked away in the middle of studying quadratic equations to hookup with my best friend! Had I known, I would have worn something sexier.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “You own a sexy outfit?”

Izuku looks at him indignantly. “Of course. I own plenty of hot outfits. I exude sexiness at all times.”

Katsuki barks a laugh and slides his hand across Izuku’s clothed cock again, drawing a squeak out of his friend. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I have, like, 5 other All Might shirts that are considerably sexier than this one.” Izuku manages to say, watching as Katsuki’s hand begins to trace up and down his length. This makes Katsuki belly laugh, he quickly runs through every All Might outfit he’s ever seen Izuku wear in his head.

“The Silver Age shirt is my favorite.” He says, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe up Izuku’s exposed neck.

“Yeah, that is a particularly sensual one.” Izuku grins and then lets out a harsh moan as Katsuki tightens his grip on his dick.

“You okay with this?” Katsuki whispers, all joking aside.

“Y-yeah. Only with you.” Izuku shifts to get more comfortable in the love seat, eyes transfixed on Katsuki’s strong hand. The blonde runs his hand along the edge of Izuku’s joggers again, ghosting a finger beneath the waistband. He brushes his fingers lower and lower, finally caressing the tip of Izuku’s dick with a delicate finger. Izuku makes an embarrassingly high sound in the back of his throat as Katsuki caresses his cock.

“Lose the pants.” He says in a hushed voice, tugging at the joggers with his empty hand. Izuku shifts his hips and makes quick work of discarding the joggers, they land in a heap on the carpeted library floor. Katsuki absentmindedly licks his lips as he takes in the scene - Izuku is now sprawled across the loveseat, stark naked.

The blonde hero can feel his heart beating incessantly as his eyes roam over his friend. In all of his fantasies, he never pictured Izuku looking this goddamn hot. He’s so toned and freckled and lovely. Katsuki sucks in a deep breath as he wraps his hand back around his friend’s heavy cock. Izuku’s biting his lip as he watches his friend start to work at his hard member. Never in his wildest dreams did he think studying would lead to this insane display of intimacy from Katsuki.

Katsuki has never touched someone else’s dick before, so for a moment Izuku’s hardness feels foreign in his callused palm. But as he begins to pump lightly at his friend’s member, he realizes this is really no different from pleasuring himself. He knows his way around his own cock, so of course he can figure out how to work at Izuku’s. He thinks through what he likes when he plays with himself and mimics it on Izuku. He works his way slowly up from base to tip, concentrating on the expanse of skin right below Izuku’s blunt tip.

��Fuuuuuck Kacchan.” Izuku groans out. Katsuki spares him a quick kiss, reveling in the way his friend’s adorable freckles contrast against his blushing skin.

“Yeah, you like that?” Katsuki says smugly, smiling at the way he’s making his friend arch into his touch. He suddenly has a thought. “Oh – hold on.”

Katsuki draws his hand away and Izuku cries out at the loss of contact. “I’ve got somethin’ that’ll make this even better.” Katsuki reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bottle of hand cream. He grins sheepishly at Izuku, who recognizes the bottle as a specialty item the Support Course cooked up to keep Katsuki’s hands from getting too chapped from his explosion quirk. Izuku has seen his friend use the lotion on many occasions, usually on days when he’s stressed with sweaty palms. The lotion helps sooth the hero’s tough skin.

Izuku watches with wide eyes as Katsuki flips open the lotion cap and pours a small dollop in his open palm.

“I bet this’ll make you lose your mind.” Katsuki says, voice low. He closes the bottle and tosses it so that it lands on top of Izuku’s discarded joggers. “Now let’s see…”

Katsuki brings his hands together and rubs the lotion between them, warming it up before he reaches out to smooth it over Izuku’s hardness. The noise that escapes Izuku’s mouth as Katsuki begins to stroke him is sinful. The explosion hero grins mischievously as he works his friend from base to tip, hand gliding along the velvety expanse of Izuku’s cock.

“Kacchan…faster…” Izuku lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch, his eyes half lidded. Who is Katsuki to deny him? He speeds up the pace, feeling his own boner twinge with need in his sweatpants. This is literally the single hottest thing that has ever happened to the two of them.

Izuku is looking absolutely wrecked, and it’s turning on Katsuki more than he ever thought was possible. Izuku opens his eyes a bit and surveys Katsuki lustfully, his gaze tracing the heavy outline of the explosion hero’s cock in his soft grey sweatpants.

“Take off your pants, Kacchan.” Izuku slurs, punch drunk on the way that Katsuki is pleasuring him.

“Nah, I want to put all my focus on you.” Katsuki says almost sweetly. Even he’s surprised at how syrupy his tone has turned. But he’s so blissed out and fucking pumped that he’s finally getting some that he can’t help but let his happiness radiate into his voice.

“Pants off. Now.” Izuku sits up, authority slipping into his voice. For a moment, Katsuki almost forgot about how strong his friend is. The tone Izuku’s using calls back to his dark phase during the war. It causes a shiver to zigzag its way up Katsuki’s spine. He would never admit this, but he was so incredibly horny for his friend’s “Dark Deku” phase. Of course, Katsuki wants his friend to be healthy and happy. He would never want Izuku to relapse back into the emotionally repressed and exhausted vigilante that he once was. But the energy of Dark Deku was so intimidating, so feral. When Izuku dips into that strange and terrifying well of energy, it leaves Katsuki feeling electrified.

“You think you can boss me around Deku?” Katsuki decides to push his luck, throwing around the childhood nickname that he used to use to bully Izuku a few years ago. This elicits exactly the response he was looking for – Izuku sits up, eyes bright. Small flashes of green energy roll across his body in waves as he holds his quirk at bay. Izuku presses his mouth into a hard line, his brows furrowed. His hair stands on end with electricity.

“I said: Pants. Off.” Izuku intones, an untamed energy crackling around him.

Katsuki’s cock pulses at being bossed around and he quickly complies. He stands up and yanks down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion, stepping out of them with practiced skill. His erect dick kisses his abs and leaves a sticky smear of pre-cum across his thick muscles. Izuku takes him in, licking his lips as his eyes all but devour Katsuki’s 7 inch monster of a cock.

The explosion hero shifts nervously under his gaze. Izuku is so turned on he’s not even trying to hide his interest in Katsuki’s fit body.

“You like what you see?” Katsuki asks, sticking out his chin defiantly and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely do.” Izuku says brightly, eyes shining. He looks like he wants to lick Katsuki up and down. He switches back to his devastatingly sexy vigilante voice as he says: “Fuck. Come here. I need to touch you.”

Katsuki rejoins him on the sofa and Izuku reaches over, hovering his hand above Katsuki’s leaking cock.

“Can I - ?” He asks, eyes flashing up to meet Katsuki’s as he waits for permission. Katsuki grins and reaches down, taking Izuku’s hand and moving to place it around his cock. He lets out a hiss of satisfaction as Izuku starts to jerk him off.

“You know, I’ve thought about touching you like this for what feels like forever. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this now.” Izuku babbles, letting his fingers roam across the expanse of his friend’s testicles. He gives him a light squeeze and Katsuki sees stars. “I’ve always thought you were so goddamn beautiful. Your face is so perfect. I love the way your chin dips into a sharp point, the way your hair shines like starlight when you’re flying through the air and activating your quirk.”

Katsuki’s heart squeezes at the words. “I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ poet.” He says, trying to posture. But it’s Izuku – the person who knows him better than anyone on Earth. There’s no need to keep up appearances. Not when his dick is in one of Izuku’s hands, and his heart is in the other. “That means a lot.” He amends, sighing as Izuku starts to pump at him slowly. They sit like that for a moment, eyes locked as Izuku enjoys the feeling of Katsuki’s hardness in his palm.

Soon, the green haired hero realizes that he needs some lubricant to keep the good vibes going, so he spits cleanly into his free hand before adding it to the mix. Katsuki gasps, his soul almost leaving his body as he watches Izuku slide two hands onto his cock. He twists them lightly in opposite directions, pumping as he goes.

“Have you done this before?” Katsuki groans, almost afraid of the answer.

“No.” Izuku says truthfully. “But I’ve imagined all the things I’d do to you if I had you naked. And this is one of them.”

“God fuckin’ dammit.” Katsuki throws his head back at the comment, letting out an easy moan as Izuku continues to pleasure him. “That’s the single hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Izuku’s smile shines throughout his face, his eyes beaming down at Katsuki.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He says as he works at Katsuki’s balls again. “I’ve been wanting this for forever.”

“Beats me.” Katsuki groans as his friend tightens his grip. “Move over a little, let me touch you.”

They find a comfortable position that allows them to stroke each other in tandem. They’re both smiling stupidly at each other and kiss lazily. Eventually, the tension and pleasure becomes too great and they can’t concentrate on kissing. Izuku leans forward so that he can touch Katsuki’s forehead with his own in an intimate touch. They’re both gasping and breathless as they bring each other towards completion.

“You gonna cum?” Katsuki intones, speeding up his pace as he jerks off his friend. “I wanna make you cum.”

“K-Kacchan!” Izuku moans out quietly as Katsuki hits a particularly wonderful spot. Katsuki grins and uses his other hand to trace around his balls. He pulses them softly and the green haired hero cries out with pleasure. He tries to keep up a steady pace as he pumps at Katsuki in return, but feels himself getting distracted and sloppy.

“Come on, ‘Zuku.” Katsuki encourages, shortening his friend’s name endearingly. “Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

Izuku is feeling absolutely wrecked and over stimulated, fat tears leaking out of his bright eyes and down across his cheeks.

“Always fuckin’ crying.” Katsuki says huskily as he continues his brutal pace. “I love that about ya.”

At this comment, the build up of pleasure is too great for the One For All wielder.

He loudly cries out “Katsuki!” as he cums hard, thick ropes of cum leaking across Katsuki’s fist and splattering across his pale freckled abs. Katsuki smiles as he continues to pump at Izuku’s cock, pulling him through his orgasm and helping him to come back down again. Izuku’s hand spasms around Katsuki’s dick, bringing the explosion hero to the point of no return as well.

“Ah, shit!” Katsuki sputters as he finishes hard, white sticky cum flowing around Izuku’s hand like a volcanic eruption. He forgets to breathe as his lower body seizes up and then relaxes, pleasure coursing through his veins in a way he’s never felt by jerking off alone. They continue to pump each other’s cocks to completion until they’re both spent, sticky and over stimulated.

They lay there for a moment, naked and trying to catch their breaths.

“Fuckkkk Izuku.” Katsuki finally sighs out, hiding his face behind an arm as he processes what they’ve just done. “That was so fucking hot.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to pick up a math book from the library.” Izuku laughs out weakly. “You tricked me, got me alone, and then seduced me.”

Katsuki laughs at this – lightly at first, and then he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. He reaches out and pulls Izuku bodily towards him, interlocking their sweaty limbs and torsos as they both laugh and laugh, entangled in each other. When they finally calm down, Katsuki kisses Izuku’s cheek sweetly.

“You know I wasn’t expecting you to moan my full name there. What a treat.” He teases, noting the way that Izuku avoids eye contact at the comment. “Am I gonna get that treatment every time I make you cum?

“Every time?” Izuku says slowly, as if he can’t believe his ears.

“You didn’t think this was only a one time thing, did you?” Katsuki barks out a harsh laugh, pulling Izuku closer into his embrace. Their both smeared with cum, sweat, lotion and spit – each is desperately in need of a shower. But Katsuki couldn’t care less. “We’re going to need to do this at least ten more times.”

“Right.” Izuku says weakly, he can’t believe his luck. “We’ll need to do this until we truly master it. And that could take weeks.”

“Maybe months.” Katsuki says with a smile, mussing Izuku’s wild green hair.

“Years, even.” Izuku agrees, and he’s beaming. His face is bright and alight with joy as he turns so that he can kiss his friend on the mouth.

“You nerd.” The affection in Katsuki’s voice is so genuine, it makes Izuku’s heart squeeze with fondness. “You know you’re stuck with me now.”

“Always have been.” Izuku says easily, settling into Katsuki’s arms and letting his eyes slide closed as he basks in the afterglow. “Always will be.”

FIN.

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

Ahhh I love them!! Thanks so much for reading - I hope you liked this fic!

If you're looking for more BKDK goodness, check out some of my other fics:

🍋 Lemon 🍋

BakuDeku | A Rainy Day Together ☔️💚💥

Pining Katsuki | BKDK Headcannon 💚💥

BakuDeku Secret Love Codes | Secret Relationship Head Cannon

BakuDeku First Kiss in the Tunnel of Love 💋

🌶 Smutty Spicy 🌶

BakuDeku Smut: Hooking Up At A Pro Hero Gala

You can also hit up my Red Riot Unbreakable Heart Master List to find more sweet + smutty fics about our other beloved MHA characters!

XOXO,

❤️ Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

[voidcat]

– rushed whispers

wc: 1.3k + 0.4k ; warnings: (implied) smut, so,, suggestive at best ig

a/n: ik thats not what the anon wanted w I Bet On Losing Dogs but it was nice to put it on repeat while writing this.

It begins like a faint melody, soft and gentle.

A tone of sadness always lingers, a possibility of what could’ve been and the ‘what-if’s; though it never leaves a bad taste, just… distinct.

Like swaying to an old tune, his breath dances on your skin, your hands fumbling with his vest.

Little words spoken, sounds filling the air, the specifics always blur by the time you cut to the chase. The locations do not matter, neither is picky. It’s spontaneous, exciting, the risks keep it going and making your chest race with the possibilities.

So little spoken out loud when there is much to be said and discussed.

In its entirety, it’s just the noises that fill the air, fingers working ever so quickly; skins touching, tracing, nails sinking and marking. It’s just his breath fawning over your ear and your lips on his neck, words have long lost their meanings, as always.

A wordless agreement of sorts. It’s never discussed, nor planned. One seeks out the other and you begin tiptoeing around each other again. Almost like a dance in the dark, that’s how it feels, with your eyes barely open but never off each other, relishing in the pleasure, it ends as it begins.

And Dazai, he never takes his eyes off you. Yet there’s so little light, so little spark in them. Hints and traces of various degrees of emotions flow endlessly but they look exactly as you feel in such escapes, like a veil pulled over, no room for a source of light. Sometimes you wonder if he even possesses a heart.

It’s silly, how on one hand your minds hazy and on the other you think such things. He might think of the same things for you, for all you know.

But you never will, and that’s exactly the point.

Dazai is good at many things and keeping this strictly as intended is one of these.

Grab the bolo tie and pull him in, he’ll be latching on to you instantly. Teeth and skin, he is everywhere. It’s rushed, it’s deep, there’ll be marks in the evening and neither ever really cares.

Isn’t this the point? To not care, to not be attached. Simply a business affair on pleasure. What better way to ensure your colleague will be on his top performance than to make sure of it yourself?

No feelings or strings, they say, but none of it was ever discussed since the beginning. How could any of it work if feelings weren’t a part of it? Every time a new surprise, be it rough, gentle, attentive or selfish. You suppose it’d never be what they call “love making” but then again, that’s not what either of you are craving.

Love isn’t needed when you get to feel every other emotion to feel there is.

“Hey, would you come out for a sec?” It’s as easy like this to get you outside. And next your back will be pressed against the cold surface. He’s onto you in an instant, his warmth making up for the cold that’s growing. While he is busy with your neck, your hands start with the practiced routine.

By the time the buttons come undone, he moves on from your neck, impatient as ever. Still, he often holds the back of your neck during these, and he is careful with the pressure he is applying, making sure your head never hits against the wall, tilting your head while considering the angles to your comfort.

Your mind grows foggy, such is the effect of Dazai, and despite it, you cannot stop thinking. Of all the small details, gestures, what goes on and doesn’t, focusing on the pleasure is one but this? It’s another.

And he knows, that your mind is elsewhere – you know it too. Again, shouldn’t that be a part of it? To take each other’s minds off of things?

Even when your attention is rarely on him, he doesn’t say much of it, doesn’t demand your attention or care, biting on your neck and sucking on it afterwards, he moves up again.

It’s a way to escape for him too, doesn’t care how much of yourself you’ll give to him. Though this doesn’t change the fact that he likes it when your focus is solely on him.

So you do, one hand to stroke his neck and soon moving to the nape of it, up and grabbing his hair, pulling at the moments you know he’ll like, deepening his biting, the movement of his body, pressed against yours until the both oh you are molded in the shape of one another.

There is roughness and gentleness when it calls for it, but all in all, there is passion in his actions. Knowing your body and his, watching every move and reaction, drinking in the sounds the two of you make, as nothing else matters in that moment.

Until it shatters and the unspoken agreement is back in action. It’s never spoken of until it happens again. The again always comes sooner than expected. He is impatient as he is passionate.

Playing each other like instruments, you like to hear him moan the most. Pulling his hair to make room for yourself and leaving marks on him. Dazai claims he hates pain but loves to chase after it like hungry.

It is a good agreement, though nonexistent.

All the marks remain to remind of the pleasures of the previous encounters. It comes as a bonus, to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, seeing marks of red and purple bloom everywhere, every square of your bodies. Satisfactory, although a little scary, showing how much you the other has seen.

No rules to abide, no strings to get caught in, and another thing you realize is that you never kiss.

Lips have touched everywhere but the faces, those remain clean, undisturbed. Maybe neither of you got a taste for masks, maybe you fear the implications of kissing one’s face.

But as clear as the sky and bright as the sun, this is one of the things that always remain unchanged.

Then Dazai kisses you. His teeth tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it down, he must be aiming to make it bleed there, you surmise.

He has kissed every corner of your body but your face and now here he stands, body against yours again, one hand to hold your neck, other to pull you by the waist, tugging on your lip as if he always does this.

No word was ever spoken yet it was always in the open. It should be your earlobe he’s tugging right now, what is he doing?,you think and ask yourself, until you find yourself kissing him back.

As always, it’s these moments of indulgence and pleasure where your mind is running fast. His skin looks barer than ever, he seems vulnerable. With how his bandages have come undone, how he lets you every time, never once hands holding yours in an attempt to stop. Layer upon layer, tightened straps of gauze and fabric to hide away everything underneath, every piece of him; and they come undone like nothing.

It becomes too loud in an instant.

Then again, hasn’t this always been the case? Weren’t all the choices and gestures you made, all the touches and caressing louder than words could ever be? Doing what words could never achieve, setting rules in untouchable air, to surround and entail you, claim your spirit and mind.

Perhaps he just knew you’d never ask the questions he won’t answer, or he simply trusts you, to an extent, as you do him.

It’s loud, with all the mixed noises, actions and hushed whispers – his eyes on yours as always, you give in and let the moment take in, your focus only on Dazai in this corner of time, as no one else exists.

Eyes like a hawk’s, it’s the moments when he gets to see you without nothing but bliss in mind that he cherishes the most. This time, it’s different and he is aware the reason behind is his actions. Unlike any other time, it’s not mere minutes where he gets to have you completely, a shift of something in you and until the high of it rises and dies down, you’re his, and all of him is yours.

For now, Dazai ignores the consequences of his actions and lives through what little you get to share until it ends.

‘La petite mort’, what a fitting name, he thinks, and how expected of him to enjoy it.

The clock starts ticking again, your pupils are narrowing.

“We’re down for this time, for sure.” You speak out as your breathing returns to normal, voice a still raspy.

“How so?” Dazai asks in return, his usual smile appearing back on his face, his composure looks far better than yours, in which you poke him for.

“Kunikida was right besides us!” you keep whispering the words, trying not to raise your voice. To anyone else, you’d come off agitated however Dazai knows you by now, just a tad worried, that’s all it is. “Even if he didn’t have suspicions before, he does now. We practically handed him over the proof.”

With a sigh, you lean back and run your hands to check your clothes for any fix-ups.

In return, Dazai leans over and rests his forehead by your face. Nobody pays much attention to the tidiness of his bandages so he leaves them be.

Turning his face to yours, the smile you’ve grown to hate never falters. It’s easier to relax somehow, and if he concentrates he can smell the scent of his skin on you. “Well, it’s not like Kunikida gets a say in who we get to see off the clock,” letting out a breath, his smile softens, “does he now?”

Fumbling with your bracelet as you listen, you perk up at his words. “Dazai, these are the work hours, we are on the job right now.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, he can’t blame you for that.

You never talk about any of these, let alone further implications of whatever this is.

You just assumed it’d end as always, going back to your divided lives, pretending nothing happened.

Up until now, nothing ever happened.

For the moment, he lets you ignore his implications.

There’ll be time to talk about these later.

[multiplefandomsblog]

Celeste x reader x Kirigiri SFW & NSFW head-canons

request; celeste x reader x kirigiri? :o

warnings; fluff, i really don’t think there’s any explicit warnings in the sfw part, nsfw section: handcuffs, edging, i didn’t put any explicit descriptions of sex nor scenarios, degrading names, gn!reader, vanilla, mention of vampire roleplay, biting, unedited.

note; sorry i took so long!! I had to study their wiki pages and shit to remember their characters, its been some time since I’ve played THH. anyway, thank you for requesting. also sorry if this was a bit lazy, i feel like i didn’t do this one as well as the others, i’m really sorry.

≈SFW≈

◊ Okay, I feel like Celestia would be the one to spoil the both of you rotten. She’s always buying all three of you matching clothes so you could go out together looking ✨fly✨

◊ If you or Kyoko ever tried denying her outfits, she’d be a bit flustered and upset though she wouldn’t show it. Buuut eventually, you both cave in because you can notice the difference in her attitude, however slight it may be.

◊ “S/o, Kyoko, my darlings. I may have gotten carried away, but I think you both would look wondrous in these- Oh. You don’t… want them? I see. *sad face* Alright then, I guess I’ll just… I..” Yuuuup, you broke her. Congratulations, you jerk. 

◊ Whatever gender you may be, it doesn’t matter, she will buy you a huge fluffy dress (But if you’re not comfortable with it, she’d totally be willing to get you something else).

◊ Celestia calls you both her darlings. She’s always saying hers, or mine in front of your names and/or pet names.

◊ Kyoko isn’t big on pet names, whether she’s on the receiving end or serving; though she doesn’t mind it when either of you calls her one. Just nothing too ridiculous, she’ll flush an adorable shade of red but scold you for it later. She prefers just calling you both by name.

◊ The caring one of the relationship would either have to be you or Celestia. Kyoko doesn’t take care of herself too well, as she’s very passionate about her job; so passionate to the point where she forgets that she’s human and that her very human body needs food and sleep.

◊ Celestia takes care of herself extremely well, I imagine she has a very strict skin routine and diet. But since she’s also passionate about her job, I imagine there would be times where a round of gambling goes extremely long or tie, but she’d be very adamant on winning so she’d go a little over the top and stay there for days, weeks if she had to. 

◊ That being said, they are both very passionate about their jobs so I feel that they are unfortunately prone to neglecting you at times. But don’t worry! They always make it up to you 10x more, and it’s always worth it.

◊ Kyoko would probably make it up to you both by trying to be a bit more affectionate with you. She is well aware that she isn’t always affectionate, so she thinks if she gives you guys a bit more affection, you’ll forgive her? ...Please?

◊ Bbgirl is trying-

◊ Most likely though, she’d talk to you first. A formal apology and everything, if you’re lucky, she’ll buy you a stuffed animal or flowers as she apologizes. 

◊ Since Celestia is just, a very fancy and aesthetic person, I feel like all dates with her would reflect that same fancy aesthetic. She goes out of her way to set up a fancy table at a reserved place where none of you can be disturbed. Expensive teas, china, scones, sweets, those little stands with the layers of pastries; she has it all ready for you two. 

◊ You’d all be sitting on cute chairs sipping tea in cute cups, butlers at your every need, it’s a really cute almost dream-like date. Kyoko would talk about her cases(leaving out things that are confidential of course,) you’d talk about everything and anything, and Celestia would just quietly listen to you both talk, a small smile adorning her face. She loves taking care of the both of you, the reason why she has dates like these are for, 

She wants to spend time with her darlings because she misses them.

She wants you both to relax and destress, she hates the idea of either of you overworking or forgetting to take care of yourself.

◊ Though if you’re not into that, the closest thing that isn’t fancy or organized(though it would take some time for her to practice not being organized) would be a picnic date. With a very very wide blanket. That’s thick. And lots of bug spray. 

◊ Dates with Kyoko would probably be short coffee breaks, she doesn’t have a lot of time sadly, so halfway through the date, she finishes her coffee and leaves early, leaving you and Celestia to spend the rest of the time together.

◊ Dates with her would mostly just be when all three of you go to bed, talking about each other’s days or just talking about stuff that has zero meaning as you all fall asleep.

◊ It kind of makes her a bit upset when you and Celestia have an inside joke or seem a bit closer; as much as she loves seeing you both happy with each other, she can’t help but want to be in on it too. She feels a bit guilty for being so busy with her job.

◊ So when she does feel a bit left out, I think a way to make her feel more included would be small little ‘I love you’ texts while she’s working or even better, surprising her by picking her up on her lunch date to get a quick lunch. 

◊ I think something domestic Kyoko enjoys a lot, is when either of you cooks a bento for her. You can really cook something terrible for her, or even ugly, she doesn’t care; she loves it so much. It’s the thought that you would cook for her that gets her. When she comes back home, the first thing she will do is thank you and hug you real tight. It’s one of the more rare moments where she actually displays feelings of love and gratitude.

◊ Despite getting judgemental looks from Byakuya and aw’s from Hina, in the end, Kyoko doesn’t care one bit. She will eat and enjoy the food in its entirety, she doesn’t care if it affects her reputation as a cold person, she just wants to eat the food.

◊ Though she is unfazed by practically everything, she gets a bit taken aback that you cooked food for her, the shock is evident on her face when you hand it to her before she goes, or drop it off at lunch hour. I don’t think she ever had anyone cook meals for her, or at least, doesn’t remember it; so she’s always pretty shocked when you do. She feels her heart palpitate a little louder and maybe smiles a little smile when you’re not looking. She appreciates it a lot.

◊ Though Celestia doesn’t cook, I think you’d have to be the one to cook for Kirigiri. Celestia enjoys gyoza a whole lot, so if you were ever to cook gyoza for her… well, she’d probably be brutally honest about what she thinks about it. Though she’d give you constructive criticism, and eventually you’d get it right through trial and error and Celestia’s taste buds.

◊ Celestia isn’t big on public areas for dates, like movie theatres, for example. If you ever wanted to watch a movie, she’d probably rent an entire movie theatre for just you three to chill in. As you can see, she’s not too big on being with large groups of people, or just anywhere that isn’t exactly ‘clean’. 

◊ I don’t think either of them would be one for PDA either. Other than mild flirting from Celestia, you all don’t do PDA at all. But there’s this intimate vibe that you all seem to share that has people assume you’re all on a date together. It’s like this bubble, it’s quite peculiar. 

◊ Celestia would never lose her cool because of you both, only for you both. But even so, she avoids losing it in front of your eyes. If she ever had to fight someone for you or intimidate them, she would probably ask you to go occupy yourselves with something else so she could go off without hesitating.

◊ Though if she was ever about to lose it and either of you notices it, a simple hold of her hand calms her down immediately. Her rage wordlessly disappears. She’ll even give you guys a small little forehead kiss in thanks.

◊ Kyoko’s an ‘it’s the thought that counts’ kind of person. So whenever you or Celestia spoil her with expensive gifts, she’ll enjoy it but she’s a bit concerned about how you’re spending so much money on her. She honestly prefers handmade gifts; whether they’re crafty or a bit imperfect, she cherishes them more than you know. 

≈NSFW≈

◊ Oh boy. *cracks knuckles* here we go.

◊ Kyoko hides her moans and expressions, she was raised not to show any unsightly emotions and so, that(sadly) comes into play in bed.

◊ Oh but Celestia teases her until she does, to get that satisfying plead out of Kyoko Kirigiri of all people, it drives her near mad in love. 

◊ Kyoko is definitely vanilla, and would probably want to stay vanilla. There aren’t many things she’s into, as a result of not knowing any kinks. I don’t think she’d be too willing to try any kinks either. Unless you explain it to her, then maybe. Just maybe. 

◊ Kyoko is a soft dom- HAH just kidding! The moment you admit just a little bit of top energy on her, she submits easily. Not in the typical way you’d think, but she’d let you do all the work, you’d have to guide her. I don’t think she has any sexual experience, so she’d have sex relying on you both(for once). 

◊ That’s where Celestia comes into play. I don’t know if this is canon or you know, but I head-canon that she has a surprising amount of sexual knowledge and kinks. 

◊ Kyoko isn’t the biggest fan of you and Celestia having intercourse without her, as I mentioned earlier, she does get a little left out, so knowing that you left her out of something as intimate as sex gets her mad for a couple of days. Even holds a small grudge. 

◊ But it wouldn’t last long, you both would eventually make it up to her since she doesn’t exactly enjoy discussing her feelings, you would have to be the one to speak up first. 

◊ Celeste would definitely ask you both if you were ever interested in trying out role-play with her, specifically; vampire role-play.

◊ Speaking of vampires, she really enjoys it when you lightly bite her. Not enough to leave a mark, if you leave marks on her she’ll get mad. Though she enjoys leaving marks on you both, she enjoys those short moments where someone stares at you guys’ hickeys and she just,, gives them a knowing, intense glare.

◊ Celestia isn’t big on degrading you both unless it’s something like, “My good little mutt.” Degrading names, sure. But not full-on degrading. She lies all the time but lying about this doesn’t sit right with her, she doesn’t want to hurt you both in any way. 

◊ Celestia enjoys being praised, it definitely gets her to spare you an orgasm if she’s edging you. You really have to praise her about everything about her for her to actually let you get off; although Kyoko is known to be silent, Celestia somehow gets her to plead for her. As a result of teasing lies like, “If you don’t obey, you won’t get to get off darling.”

◊ Celestia dominates both of you, simultaneously. Kyoko doesn’t have enough confidence in her ability to please you both to top, and unless you are somehow able to overpower her, she’s always going to be the one who orders you to do things. 

◊ I can totally imagine Kyoko littering millions of butterfly kisses on both your bodies, but they’re so soft and cute you both start to giggle a bit. “Why are you laughing? Is it bad?” She looks genuinely confused and a little sad- and then that both shocks you into showering her with reassurances, any leftover lick of laughter completely vanished.

◊ Celestia is a huge tease- like, just, the biggest tease. She’ll hover her lips over yours, blow at where you need it most, foreplay lasts longer than you would want it to, but in all honesty, it definitely makes the first stroke of pleasure well worth it. All that anticipation, build-up, is all worth it as she finally gives you what you want.

◊ Kyoko is more intimate, every moment with her is just, so full of love it gives you whiplash from Celestia’s little fun. She always has a hand on your back. It’s such a soft and fleeting touch, you both sometimes wonder if it’s even there.

◊ Something I could imagine happening is Celestia just- pulling out soft hand-cuffs from nowhere as a surprise for the two of you, asking you to tie her up. Seeing as how Kyoko is usually around handcuffs often from her detective work, she’s a little confused as to why people would get turned on from that or even introduce that to the bedroom. It’s the last thing she’d expect. She’s a bit nervous to use them(receiving and serving), and doesn’t see the purpose, but when she caves in and says yes anyway, she finds she actually likes them? 

◊ She wouldn’t admit it though. And it definitely ruins her image of handcuffs; any time she sees a perp in handcuffs, she can just see the pleased looks on your and Celestia’s faces.

◊ Celestia would look down at you with this red gaze that leaves the two of you utterly speechless and aroused, even as she’s bottoming, her piercing gaze reminds you who’s in charge.