#tug-of-mouth can look even worse because she likes it if you cover her nose for half a second every so often

[sixlegnag]

do any of your dogs like activities that make you look like you don’t know how to interact with an animal

because mine sure does

two of her favorite games are “tug of war with one of her canine teeth and/or nose as the toy” and “lay outside on the ground chewing something while I shove her with my feet and generally inconvenience her as much as possible”

[eightstarr]

i know — van palmer.

summary: you can't remember a life before van, but there was one. there must've been one. it feels ridiculous to think about. you'd rather think about her, rather think about this— two moments then, and two moments now (and so, so many to come).

notes: heyyy i know i said i would post this like a month ago, i fully forgot!! if there was like one person waiting i'm sorry and i love you sm <3 also this ignores the plot entirely and i wanna make that very clear just in case!! it's like a nothing happened and we're all okay au! anyway here's to my loser girl and to whoever also finds themselves staring at the wall in silence thinking about her :)

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

THEN.

"You're hogging the blanket," Jackie mutters over a mouthful of popcorn, purple polished nails tugging at the soft fabric.

She's right— you are. "I'm not," you say, and bring your legs close to your chest partly so they can offer some kind of comfort, but mostly so they're not touching the unknown dangers of the floor anymore.

The TV flashes red and Jackie's living room is bathed in it, along with all your faces.

Shauna snorts at a man getting brutally and very unrealistically decapitated on the screen and pulls her own blanket closer to her best friend before she even has to ask. They do that a lot; talk without words. Any other time you would've noticed, thought that's cute and smiled to yourself, but right now you're too terrified.

The movie is bad. Or, that's what you have to keep reminding yourself of. It's lazy in a way that's bordering on comical and needlessly violent in a way that proves that it was written by a man with interesting fantasies. You shouldn't be scared, but you are.

Another death earns you a few minutes of quiet, though you know the build up to the next one will be worse. The characters cry and fret over the dead body of their friend but the killer is nowhere to be seen, disappearing conveniently into the night. You're granted a scene of daylight but the sun comes and goes, and then the screen turns to dark violets and blues again and you're tensing up in your seat.

It's fine, at first— the pretty blonde girl is yielding a kitchen knife and walking around while her muscled boyfriend boards up the windows of the big house. Lottie shifts where she's sitting on the floor next to Laura Lee's legs and whispers about why they would lock themselves in instead of taking their chances outside, which is 'obviously the smartest thing to do'. You don't have time to process what she's saying because suddenly an ax is clawing its way through one of the windows and the characters are screaming and, well, so are you.

"Fuck!" You curse, jumping and landing yourself halfway into Van's lap, the softness of her thighs under your own, your back against her chest.

Van blinks, more startled by your reaction than the scene itself, her hands coming up to steady you and then immediately dropping back down a second after they brush over the cotton of your shirt. She lets out a shaky breath and does not think about how good your weight feels on top of her, because that would be a bad thought, a questionable thought. And it should not have been the first one to pop into her mind. Definitely not. That would be embarrassing. That would be bad.

You cover your eyes with one hand as the sounds of screaming come to a crescendo and hold one of her hands tightly with the other, mumbling sorry, sorry, sorry as if you're doing something wrong. As if you don't know that, even if you were, Van is incapable of being mad at you. Famously so. Everybody knows.

She looks around the room to the rest of the girls. No one is staring, too busy chewing popcorn and wrinkling their noses at the more gruesome special effects. Van turns her head back to you. A million thoughts rush in, overwhelming and unforgiving. Something about the soft tint of chapstick on your lips, the curve of your nose, the shape of your fingers. Things she's noticed before -Van is often greedy of all your details-, but not in this way, never from this close. She can smell your shampoo from here. Somewhere in the back of her mind, over the scent of honey and strawberries, she wonders if she's going insane.

Your body noticeably relaxes as the violence dissipates, your grasp on her hand loosening slightly. When you uncover your eyes, the final girl is clawing her way through the woods. You're unsure of how she got out of the house, but too comforted by the thought of the movie finally coming to an end to care.

Van is scared to say anything, scared to move— if she does, you might push yourself off of her, ignore her for the rest of the night because you're embarrassed. The thought is ridiculous. You'd never ignore her, you're not that kind of person, but it's what she would do. Except she'd probably never be in this position in the first place, because she'd never be brave enough to throw herself on your lap, even if she was as scared as you were. And that's just it anyway, it's not like you chose to do this. You didn't pick her. You would've found the same comfort in anyone's arms. Right? Van feels you shift closer, just slightly, like you're unaware of it. Right?

Her forehead falls on your shoulder as she thinks herself sick.

"It's scary, right?" You whisper, confusing her crisis for fear. Your fingers wrap around her bicep, soft and absentminded when they brush up and down her skin, trying to make her feel better.

Van feels her stomach flip, her hands twitch. In another world, she would wrap her arms around your waist and press her lips to your ear, mumble something stupid like if you say so, baby just to annoy you. Here, though, all she does is nod her head. She whispers back, "Yeah, it is."

She looks up at the screen, tries to be scared, to be invested. You relax further into her, personal and comfortable as if there's no one in the room but the two of you. Van blinks. She can't give you the name of the girl on the screen. A minute passes and your back straightens suddenly, but you don't rush to slide off her lap. You do it carefully, not because you want to but because you're worried about making her uncomfortable. Van wants to pull you back but she's never faced anything as daunting. She comforts herself with the thought that one day she will, a hungry attempt at manifesting or breaking a mental wishbone or something. For now, she follows you with her eyes and feels her anxiety melt away when you notice her staring and give her a smile. The movie's not yet over. She looks back. Who's the bad guy again?

—

NOW.

Van likes to pretend that she's a better cook than she is. Someone else might find it funny, annoying even, but you can't find it anything but cute. You love telling her that you've run out of food and watch her scoff and puff up her chest.

"I'll make you something out of nothing," she'll say. Then she'll open the fridge and bend at the waist, stare at said nothing for a solid two minutes before resurfacing and declaring that she's craving pizza from the place down the street, anyway, so there's no point in cooking.

At the grocery store the next day, you make sure to buy the essentials for the one pasta recipe that she does actually know how to make. Van likes to feel useful. And you like to indulge her every need, maybe a little too much.

You pick the sweetest looking tomatoes for the sauce, no real expertise behind your method— you're not exactly an amazing chef, either, but the two of you do just fine. Someone calls your name in the middle of bagging the last tomato and you turn to meet a face you had almost forgotten about.

"Katie Lopez?" Van asks again, staring at the folded piece of paper with the almost-stranger's number that you'd gotten without asking (a friendly gesture, you're pretty sure) after a slightly lengthy conversation that carried on even after your multiple anyway, I should probably get going's.

You're telling Van about the encounter while washing the tomatoes in the sink, sleeves rolled up. Your cheeks are warm with kisses like they always are when you make it back to her, as if she wants to reward you for it. You've been hers for so long, and she's still amazed at the fact that you come home to her. "Yes," you repeat. "Why is that so shocking?"

"It's not," she says, flicking the paper where it sits on the counter, kinder than her original need to ball it up or light it on fire or something even more dramatic. She moves to open the cabinet and starts putting away the canned goods you've brought. "I just didn't know you guys were close."

"We're not. She was just being polite."

Van hums. For a moment you think she'll let it go, but of course she won't. She doesn't like the thought of someone flirting with you when she's not there and she especially doesn't like the thought of that someone being Katie fucking Lopez, who's most memorable for fingering girls in the bathroom for most of your shared high school experience.

Van clears her throat and the cabinet closes with a thud louder than she intended, definitely not because she was caught up picturing you under Katie's gaze. She means to sound casual, but she's not trying very hard when she asks, "She ever try to get with you?"

You spare her a single glance, as if to check that she's serious. Of course she is. "What, in high school?" You shake your head, chuckling like the idea is funny. "No. She was more into the cheerleader type."

Van knows that you're right. Still, she squints her eyes at you, ginger hair leaning to one side when she tilts her head. "Is that a hint of resentment that I'm hearing?"

You've gotten good at knowing how to handle her jealousy. It's only fair, considering that she's gotten good at handling yours. Neither are ever that serious. "I was making a neutral observation."

You know she's creeping closer before you feel it. You know her too well. "Yeah?" She mutters, her hands on your hips as she presses herself to your back. Her nose is familiarly cold where it brushes against your neck.

You dry your hands and lean back on instinct, and she doesn't flinch at the added feeling of your weight. Van can be a lot like a brick wall, but you don't usually tell her that, unless you're feeling extra sweet and want her to grin like a cocky little shit for the rest of the day. "You were into that type, too."

Van scoffs, a soft gust of air on your neck. "I was into you," she says.

You hum, purely fucking with her. "Maybe."

"May— what the fuck are you talking about?" She pulls away just enough to prove that she's actually offended. And she is, because the idea is ludicrous and yeah, she's taking it personally. You can question Van about anything you want, except for the fact that she's been in love with you for more than half of her life. "When did you ever see me looking at cheerleaders?" She asks.

You and Van work for a lot of reasons. You work because you're different where it matters, enough to balance each other out, and you work because you're the same in everything else. You might've been just teasing her at first, but now the thought does that stupid thing where it starts to linger and -just like she had thought about you and Katie- you can almost picture it in your head, a younger Van standing on the soccer field, her eyes trailing over a girl's short uniform skirt. You roll your eyes, annoyed mostly at yourself. "Oh, don't act like you wouldn't have loved for them to shout your stupid name."

Van chuckles. She can read your train of thought like a book. She knows you too well. "Stupid name, huh? You're cute when you're jealous." And a little mean, too, but in a way that makes her weak in the knees. She won't be telling you that part. You already know, anyway.

You pull the hands that are wrapped around your waist away from you. Van lets you— she wants to see where this is going. "Not jealous," you mutter.

"No?" She teases, half-heartedly disappointed when you don't turn around to let her kiss you.

You look at her over your shoulder and then make eye contact with the piece of paper on the counter, recalling the words of your old classmate. Call me whenever. We should totally hang out. You're too old to be telling people you should 'totally hang out', but Katie Lopez hasn't changed much from the last time you saw her. You hold back the urge to wrinkle your nose at the memory of that same teenager-trying-to-be-cool smirk that she gave you throughout the whole interaction and hum thoughtfully, like you've been tempted. "Maybe I will call her—" you take one step towards the counter in a half assed attempt to reach for the paper but Van is unusually quick as she strides forward and takes it in her hands, tongue poking into the inside of her cheek as she rips it in two. "Van!" You gasp.

"What? Don't tell me you were actually gonna use it," she pouts. "You're breaking my heart, baby."

You try to take the two pieces away from her and all you earn is her breaking it in four, holding it above your head. You're laughing as you slap her shoulder. "God, you're so stupid."

Van raises her eyebrows, mismatched numbers wrinkled in her hand. She drops them on the counter in favor of cupping your face, pressing a contained short peck to your lips. Don't feel bad, she won't hold back for long. "Stupid like my name?"

"I love your name," you shake your head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love it. Just as long as it's mine to say."

It is yours, but you know that already.

—

THEN.

Van's room smells like the incense you got her. You wonder if she used it just to appease you because she knew you were coming, but it's a silly thought. Van likes you. You know this now. She takes everything you give her (your time, your smiles, your kisses) like it's a precious gift, so you can't imagine that she would neglect an actual gift.

Your grandmother said you should light the incense before a game, to bring you good luck and calm your nerves, and you're not ashamed to admit that you bought Van her own pack the very next day. Everything makes you think about her lately, especially this kind of thing. You're not even sure that the incense works, but why wouldn't you share it with her? She deserves all of it— good luck, a stomach free of nerves, at the very least a nice lingering scent if your grandma's beliefs turn out to be a myth. But you hope they don't.

Your girlfriend is anxious more often than you are, but never really about a game. Van knows that she's good at soccer. She's nervous about other things. Keeping her side of the house clean, being able to afford Sinéad O'Connor tickets, what her mom's mood will be like tomorrow, English assignments but only because she thinks the professor is the coolest guy alive and she wants to impress him even if she won't admit it. And lately, there's another thing. She worries about whether you'll look at her one day and realize that you're too good for her.

You know about some of her anxieties, but clearly not all of them. She can picture your reaction if she were to share the last one with you, how your face would scrunch up and you'd look at her with eyes so loving and so sad. She can almost hear you ask, soft and patient, why would you think that? And she wouldn't know what to say. There's comfort in the fact that the worry is there, but it's not constant. Van only worries about that when you're gone. When you're in front of her, or sitting next to her in class, or talking to her on the phone, it's hard to imagine that you'll ever stop liking her. She takes in your smile, your laughter, your sparkling eyes and she can't think about anything else. You make all of it go away. If you asked her, she would tell you that she thinks the incense works, but only because it came from you.

She can smell it faintly from where she is now, but there are a hundred other things overwhelming her more— the feeling of your legs on either side of her, the sound of your bracelets clinking together when you move your arms to rest them next to her head and cage her in, the sight of you leaning in to kiss her. It's easy to say, she's only been dating you for three months, but Van is sure that she will never get tired of this.

She hums against your lips, something too close to a moan. Her cheeks are red when you pull away, and you're not sure if it was the sound she made or the regretful, kind of embarrassing thing she has to tell you that gave her that reaction. "My mom will be home in, like, five minutes," she says, raspy and breathy.

Her voice distracts you. Your lips are tingling. "Okay," you say, nodding your head even though it takes you another three seconds to actually process what she said.

This is where you sit up, break apart. Neither of you move.

You smile and lean back down to kiss her again, stomach fluttering from the sound of her giggling as you tilt your head back. How are you supposed to stop when she's so fucking— so cute, so handsome, so in love with you. You've never felt so secure of another person's feelings for you before, but it's impossible to doubt Van. She makes you confident, makes sure that you know at all times. Might as well be saying I love you, I love you, I love you between each kiss that she pulls you back into.

It takes everything in you to break away from her, but you have to. "Fuck, okay. I gotta go," you mutter. You have to. You'll see her tomorrow. It should be embarrassing how greedy she makes you.

She watches as you sit up on her lap, your skirt bunched up over the crotch of her jeans. You must notice her looking, because you're laughing like you can read her mind when she huffs and covers her face with her arms, her lips pursed as she suppresses an even more embarrassing sound than the one she made before.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you insist, like saying it outloud will make leaving easier. You stand up and brush your hands over your hair, flattening the flyaways. Then you grab your backpack from the floor (don't think about the pretty pin she got you a few days ago, because it'll make you want to kiss her again) and walk over to her window.

You could take your chances with the front door, but you don't want to. Van was afraid that her neighbors would see you and innocently mention it to her mom, say something like oh, I saw that Vanessa's friend came by the other day. Van wishes it could be left at that, but her mom is rarely that simple. She looked so worried as she told you about it, so ashamed. You kissed her cheek and promised yourself you'd get good at climbing.

She comes closer as you climb to the other side, getting your footing on the familiar edge of the wall, and she hisses when you let go of the window railing to reach over and cup her face. You don't have to pull for her to bend down and let you kiss her, your thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"Please don't fall," she's saying as you make your way down.

You look up at her and smile, and Van thinks you're so pretty that she misses the mischievousness behind it. "Have a little faith in me— oh, fuck!"

Van flinches, bumping her head on the window with how quick she moves to look down at you. The sound of your laughter makes her realize your hands never left their safe grip. Her shoulders relax. "Oh my God, fuck you," she scoffs, though she's too relieved for it to have any real bite.

"What were you even gonna do?" You ask, still giggling.

She shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, fucking— grab you or something."

"Your arms are too short to reach me from up there."

"I take offense to that."

"Well, I'm sorry," you sigh, tilting your head. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"I better not hear you asking for my short arms to carry you after practice tomorrow," Van huffs, said arms now crossed over her chest.

You look up at her in disbelief, raising your eyebrows. "I have literally never asked you for that, you always offer."

She shifts slightly where she stands, moves her weight from one leg to the other, caught. "Because I can do it," she mutters.

"Yes, I know. You're very strong, baby."

Van rolls her eyes, choosing to believe that you're teasing her because if she believes that you're being genuine she might die.

Your feet hit the ground with a thud. You do a silly curtsy, as if to say ta-da! and Van thinks you're so cute she's certain that she'll die. You give her one last grin and blow her a kiss before sneaking away from her house into the night.

Van goes to bed with her cheeks aching from smiling, her bed smelling of your perfume, and the faint sound of her brain screaming (terrified, celebrating) you are fucked!

—

NOW.

"I wish I'd asked you to prom," your voice is muffled by her sweatshirt, lips partly pressed against her shoulder.

Van snorts, looking down at you. "What?"

"You never went," you explain, and you have that look on your face, like you've been thinking about this for weeks. Like you could cry. Van presses pause on the (admittedly) shitty action film she'd chosen and lets you try to get your thoughts out. "I really wanted you there. You would've liked it."

She lets out a sigh through her nose, a hand coming to rest against your cheek. "I really don't know if that's true, honey," she says honestly.

You straighten your back a little, a tiny frown on your face like you get when you've been challenged. "You would've liked it. You love to dance and the DJ was, like, surprisingly good. And Ms. Dawson actually said yes to a dance with Peter K., even though that was highly inappropriate now that I think about it. But it was funny at the time— and Natalie snuck in a bottle of vodka."

"Yeah?" She asks, awfully endeared even when she's heard the story a million times before. You'd told her all about it the day after prom, your voice groggy and sleepy over the phone. She had felt lame about having missed it, but a thousand times better as soon as she picked up the phone, giggling in her bed like a fool at every detail you gave her.

You wrap your fingers around the hand on your cheek, press a kiss against her palm. "You would've loved it," you say, sounding somehow more convinced than before. "I should've asked you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I was a dick," you insist. "I was a coward—"

"Hey, no. No," Van sits up from her lazy posture, two thin wrinkles between her eyebrows when she frowns. They look good on her. You remember when they weren't there, and it always makes you a little emotional. "Don't say that. You weren't."

"But I was," you try to reason, stubborn to a fault. "I'm not, like, condemning myself. I'm stating a fact."

Her frown deepens. "Well, I don't like it. And I don't think it's a fact."

You didn't mean for this to turn into an argument, but you're not exactly thinking about that at the moment. It happens— you've let the thought saturate in your brain for too long and now you're stuck thinking that you're right. "Why are you arguing with me right now?" You ask, not being petty but genuinely wanting to know.

Van huffs a frustrated breath. "Because I thought about asking you to prom for years, okay?" She says, crawling with embarrassment. "I told myself I would over and over again and then I fucking didn't. If you were a coward, what does that make me?"

You pause, guilt swirling in your stomach because you realize all at once that you've been poking on a tender bruise you didn't even know existed. "Van," you say softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She sighs, almost a chuckle. She can be so mean to herself, so condescending about her own feelings. You know she's not laughing at you, or disregarding you in any way— it's just what she does when she feels like she's humiliated herself. Especially when you're there to watch, looking at her so kindly when she's certain she deserves none of it. "Yeah, well. That was intentional," she mutters.

You let her look away from you for a moment before you push yourself onto your knees, placing one on each side of her hips. She welcomes you like she always does when you come to sit on her lap now, her hands on your waist and her face falling forward to press kisses over your collarbone. A thoughtless motion, automatic.

"Sweet girl," you hum, guiding her head up with a careful hand, smiling when you meet her eyes. "We should've gone out dancing alone. Would've been way more fun."

Van breathes out a laugh. She wonders if she'll cry, and feels like she could. "Yeah," she agrees.

"I would've said yes, you know. I'm not blaming you for not asking me, I get why you didn't. I really do. But it's important to me that you know that." You brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It's pretty, and getting long. In no time she'll be asking you to wash it over the sink and trim it with your fancy hair scissors, like you've been doing since you got back together when you were twenty five after a stupid argument that led to a two years long break. It wasn't a good time for either of you, but you don't regret it. You have the rest of your life to live with her. Still, there will always be things like this— arguments about deep buried shame, fears that might never go away, moments you missed that other high school sweethearts didn't because their worries weren't like yours. It's sad, but not inescapable all the time. You and Van don't blame each other for any of it. But sometimes you need to be reminded of that.

"I know," she nods, her voice in that soft, quiet tone that you love but rarely get with how passionate she is. It's not a hardship, you love that just as much. "I think maybe that's why— why I was so freaked out. Like, if you said yes, it would become real."

You nod and chuckle a little, sweet and airy. "And you'd have to actually start to date me? Yeah, I would be scared," you joke.

Van buries her face in your chest with a groan. "That's all I fucking wanted," she says, feeling too honest to play along like she usually would.

You let her stay there for a while, her nose brushing against the rise and fall of your chest. Wanna be here forever, she'd told you once, with cold fingers sneaking under your shirt, more than a little drunk. You have been making fun of her about it for ages, but it tugs at something different today. It makes you pull her softly with a hand on the back of her neck, just enough to press your lips against hers, not wanting to deny her any of your warmth that she might crave.

Van hums against your lips, moving where you want her when your hands guide her own from your waist down to your hips. You press your chest against hers like you know she likes and she moans into your mouth, a hand moving to press against your back and force you closer.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you," you mumble when she lets you pull apart, speaking close to her ear as you kiss her cheek, lips soft over old acne scars and sunspots.

Van shakes her head. "I don't care," she promises, smiling like she does when she's about to say something corny. "Look at me now," she shrugs, fake humble. "I got the girl in the end."

You laugh against her smirk and kiss her until she's lifting your hips and pushing you down on the couch, your back against the worn pillows, a hand on the back of your head in case you bump it on the arm rest. You like when she moves you around just to show off, reminds you of when you were younger and she'd flex her muscles just because she knew you were looking. She might not be the same type of strong now, but she can still pull out some tricks when she wants to. And with you, Van often wants to.

She tilts her head back when you try to pull her in for another kiss, sighing as she gets comfortable on top of you. She almost gives up the act when you pout at her, blinking your pretty eyes, but instead she leans her weight on one hand next to your head and says, "That is, of course, if she doesn't leave me for Katie Lopez's magic fingers."

Van expects you to roll your eyes, slap her shoulder so she can say ouch! and dramatically rest her hand over the wounded spot. Instead, you slide your hand over hers where it's resting against your hip, intertwining your fingers together and smiling pretty, tilting your head. "Mmh, but I have the best fingers right here."

Van scoffs, playing amused rather than speechless because she's trying not to show you how much your words get to her. It's embarrassing how proud it makes her, how quickly she melts into the palm of your hand when you as much as imply that she's good at something, that you would pick her over everyone else, that you want her like she wants you. Praise from others makes her smile and say thank you, but praise from you reaches her core, makes her dizzy. Her lips feel dry and her tongue pokes out absentmindedly to lick them as you guide her hand up. Van barely registers the movement, too busy watching your face— how beautiful that she gets to see it all the time now, that she knows all the details like you know hers.

Her fingertips come to rest against your lips and her breath stutters as she tries desperately to maintain any sense of coolness or dignity or fucking something while you kiss each one, soft and attentive. She's thinking, is she insane for finding it as thrilling as she does, even after all these years? Do you know what you do to her? You can't possibly know, Van almost decides, but then you part your lips to slide two of her fingers into your mouth and she thinks that you do. You definitely know.

"F—fuck," she breathes out, and tries to remember her original plan to tease you but can't recall your old classmate's name. "You trying to butter me up?" She asks, her chuckle trembling but deep, from the back of her throat.

Her fingers slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and Van groans. You hum, "Is it working?"

You're mean, evil. You're the sweetest thing she's ever seen. Two things can be true at once. You're a dream, and you're not like this for anyone else. The thought echoes through her skull, warm and infectious. Van smirks. "Yeah."

[lilac-hecox]

idk what specifically but something with damangela and forehead kisses? 🥹 i've seen damien mention a few times that nothing gets him more fluttery than that and would love to see it with that pairing!! thank you so much 🥹

Damien/Angela - Forehead Kisses - Damangela

--

By the time Damien is deemed ‘non-contagious’ Angela is about to lose her mind with how much she misses him. Sure, they FaceTime and Angela gives him the rundown on the happenings at her latest StarKid show and what’s been going on at the Smosh office, while he tells her how bored he is, but it isn’t the same as seeing him in person. 

Damien and Angela are already both extremely busy people. Damien is only slowing down because he’s got covid and sort of has no choice but to stop. He still streams, which Angela watches, and affectionately texts him during because she can’t believe he’s streaming while sick but at the same time expects no less from him. 

The time they get to actually hang out is already limited by their demanding schedules so Damien having covid only makes everything feel worse. She is near feral with excitement when he texts her and tells her the doctors gave him an ‘all clear’ to have visitors. 

When she arrives she brings a card she had passed around at Smosh for everyone to sign along with a few recorded messages that make Damien smile and laugh, a soft and touched expression on his face as he reads over the card. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” he says to her, drawing her into a hug, his arms winding around her back. 

“I missed you too,” she says into the warmth of his shoulder. 

He pulls back and he looks a little tired as he’s not in perfect health yet. She reaches out and cups his cheek where his beard is darker and thicker than it’s been since she’s known him. 

“Scratchy,” she says. 

“I’m going to shave it down soon when I have the energy,” Damien says with a laugh. 

“I don’t hate it,” Angela is quick to say. 

“I know, but I don’t love it.” 

Damien sits on the couch, tugging a blanket across his lap. Angela wants to sit by him but a part of her is nervous to catch covid from him. She remembers all too well how Anthony passing covid on to Ian almost put the company in a tizzy. 

“Are you hungry?” Angela asks instead. 

Damien shakes his head. “No, my appetite is pretty shot.” 

“I did make you some pasta,” she says. 

“So sweet of you. Homemade pasta from my little cannoli.” he throws on a cheesy Italian accent. Angela breaks into giggles. 

“Stop, oh my God.” 

She tucks the tin-foiled covered pain into his fridge so he can hopefully eat later when he finally feels hungry. He leans his head back on the couch and he’s looking at her with a soft smile. 

Angela smiles back at him and then walks over towards him. Instead of going to the front of the couch, she goes to the back and leans over so her face is over his, her hair tickling his cheeks and nose. 

Damien lets out a laugh and then Angela leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

Damien hums happily, his eyes sliding shut at her affection. 

In some ways, he reminds her of his cats, and she knows exactly what he likes at this point. 

“God, I missed you.” 

“You said that already,” she teases, her face going pink, “not that I’m tired of hearing it.” 

“I mean it,” Damien says, “I found myself missing all the little things. Like, the smell of your hair from your shampoo, and Spork sleeping on my lap when we’re watching a movie, the way you sing to yourself when you cook. Even your snoring.” 

“Wow, you must really have missed me if you miss my snoring.” 

“Can’t wait to be lulled to sleep by the chainsaw like sound of your snoring, Ange.” 

She playfully punches his arm and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then her jaw, before seeking out her mouth. 

The angle is kind of weird because she’s leaning over the couch and she’s really risking it by kissing him but she can’t wait one more second to feel his mouth pressed to her own, warm, his facial hair scratching pleasantly at his skin. 

Angela gives in because what the hell. She’s already kissed him. She makes a show out of rolling over the back of the couch until she flops down next to Damien.

“So, you’ll be back to the office soon?” she asks, her head on his shoulder. 

“Next couple weeks or so,” Damien says. 

Angela stretches and settles herself more firmly against Damien. 

“Good, I can’t wait.”

[kabie-whump]

CYOA Whump Part 13

First | Previous

You chose: Confront him. I was going to eat that.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You're on your feet in an instant. "Hey! That's mine."

The man stops, his smile falling as he turns around to face you.

Behind you Onthyes gives a light tug on your chain. "Ventis, don't-"

You ignore him. You worked hard to earn that food and you're not going to let some asshole take it from you just because he's twice your size and armed and not chained up.

"What was that?" The man asks, his voice low. He drops your food on the ground and stalks over to you, grabbing hold of the chain that trails from your bound wrists and yanking you closer until you're nose to nose. "Did you say something, pretty boy?"

His breath is hot in your face. A glance at his bared, crooked teeth reveals haphazardly sharpened fangs. You can't help but scoff. Your own fangs are pure genetics, but not everyone can be as blessed as you are.

You do your best to look brave, glaring up at him even as you realize that you may have seriously fucked up. "I was eating that," you say. You carefully and slowly annunciate each word, like you're not sure he'll understand otherwise. "Get. Your. Own."

Your head whips to the side and you fall against the pile of crates you had been sitting on before you can even process what's happening. You blink slowly, squinting up at a spiraling image of the man standing over you and pulling his leg back-

His boot slams into your ribs hard and your pained cry quickly breaks off into rough coughing. He kicks you again, and again, and again wile you try and curl into yourself protectively. You can hear Onthyes yelling something but it's lost under the persistant ringing in your ears.

It takes you a moment to realize that it's stopped. Hands grab you under your armpits, lifting you to your feet. The man's form is blurry as he walks away. You shove away whoever is holding you and take a few stumbling steps forward, an involuntary growl bubbling up from your chest. It's not always easy to suppress your draconic instincts, but right now you don't really want to anyway. He's not winning this. You won't let him.

With your hands bound you can't use most of your spells, but the nice things about getting your magic from a dragon ancestor is that your breath is fair game for conducting your powers. You inhale deeply. Lightning crackles along your body and gathers in your lungs.

Just as you go to unleash a blast of electricity from your lungs to disintegrate this fucker, something clamps over your mouth and locks behind your head. Your teeth dig into bitter tasting rubber that covers your mouth fully. The lightning rebounds back into your lungs and you let out a muffled scream, your knees buckling as painful coughs wrack your body.

Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you up as you threaten to crumble to the ground. It's Onthyes, you realize. He's muttering something into your ear - "I'm sorry. I really didn't want to do that. Please stop fighting you're just going to make it worse."

You slump into his arms, exhausted and in pain. He muzzled you. You can't believe he fucking muzzled you. Where did he even get this thing?

"What the fuck is goin on here?" Tinny pushes through the crowed that had gathered while that pirate was beating you. She grabs the man by the collar, and it's almost funny how he suddenly looks so small. "What didya do this time, Rye?"

"The prisoner started it!" Rye stammers. "I was teaching it a little lesson, and it tried to kill me!"

Tinny looks over at you, now muzzled and being held back by Onthyes. She rolls her eyes then turns her attention back to the crowd. "All of you, no beatin on the prisoner! Don't make me say it again! Now fuck off. Fun's over."

She lets Rye go and the pirates disperse.

Then Tinny is standing over you and you can't help but shrink back, a primal sort of growl rumbling in your throat. "Don't pull that shit again, kid," she says in a low voice. "I don't care what my crew does to ya. Save that freaky magic for when the captain needs ya using it. Got it?"

"Rye took his food and beat him up," Onthyes defends. "You can't blame him-"

"Rye's a sadistic piece of shit and I hate him as much as you do, but Ventis is still a prisoner. He doesn't deserve to defend himself. If you really don't wanna see him gettin hurt you gotta defend him yourself, got it?"

Onthyes nods, looking a little unsure. "I'll do my best."

"Good. Now I don't wanna hear any more trouble from you two tonight. Captain and I got big plans brewin. We'll need you alert and ready to perform tomorrow, freak."

You nod and Tinny walks away. Onthyes and his friends generously give you portions of their food, since yours has been seized by rats already. You get the sense you've earned their respect, but you've made a powerful enemy out of rye.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Next

CYOA whump taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @rainydaywhump @whumperofworlds @hauntedroseart @3-2-whump @fleur-a-whump @whumpsday @whumpisfun @whumper-whimsy @ghost-whump @fabled-whump @violets-whumperflies @whumped-by-glitter @thewhumpening-thesequel @lumpofsand @whumpycries @unicornbeck @gala1981 @a-formless-entity @ryahisbored @mentallyunwellautism

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

Illumi Zoldyck x Reader || Indulge In Me

Warning: 18+, oral sex, orgasms, hair pulling.

If you are underage please leave my account be, this account contains adult themes MEANT for adults.

~ ✨ ~

Previously it had just been him brushing his knuckles against her cheek or whispering in her ear and slowly but surely he had been growing worse. And yet, she almost loved it as much as he seemed to. She'd be a liar if she said there wasn't any mutual attraction there.

A big one.

So, she let him do as he pleased and sometimes she did things with him that she knew she shouldn't and this was also…one of those times.

She shivers as he runs his fingers over her clothed lips, admiring the warmth that seemed to radiate from there. Her breath hitches as his thumb presses with some force over that sweet bundle of nerves and she tightens her hold in his hair when he leans in a moment after.

His nose runs over the fabric as he takes a moment to take in her natural scent, breathing her in before he slides his tongue out and drag it from the seat of her to that sensitive numb that grew hard with excitement. He doesn't plan on letting her go anytime soon and she knows that so all she can do is shakily pull one hand from his hair. She moves to cover her mouth but then he tskes.

“I want to hear you when you cum on my face…” He says and it's scary how seriously he's able to say that, looking up at her like he meant every word.

She blushes deeply, the flush running all the way down her neck and to the tips of her ears.

How is she supposed to possibly respond to that?! She pulls a hand out his hair to cover her mouth.

He doesn't waste any more time, hitching her legs up just a bit more before leaning in and sticking out his tongue. He seems eager, impatient and the way that first lick feels makes her jolt.

His breath is hot and something about the way he's on his knees, holding her open with no issues at all makes her feel like she's melting.

One lick turns to two, and then three before he closes his lips around that sweet bundle that grew hard with need and she feels her breath hitching. She's already shaking, thighs and hips twitching in his hands and she can't help the falling feeling she's having. Like he's leading her to her death and all she can do is fall into his pretty looks and empty promises.

She mewls, throwing her head back as he does as he wants. Nipping, sucking, humming and when he eventually does shift and pull her soaking wet panties aside and drags his talented tongue over her bare sex and oh she lets out a sob.

She's losing her mind, arching and tugging on her hair as if she wants him even closer and he obliges, slipping his tongue into her heated cavern and moaning at the taste. She gasps loudly, legs opening as much as they possibly can now that her gut was twisting and her cunt was twitching in hot searing pleasure.

”I-Illu… Illumi!” She cries out and if it wasn't for him being between her thighs he probably would have tried to shush her. Then again, he did enjoy hearing her. Hearing how much she needed him and loved him as she shakes and trembles and wets his face with her juices.

Not to mention the fact that he's rock hard. His cock is trapped by his pants but if she could focus she could see how his other hand inched down to his crotch and cupped at the bulge there. He fondles himself as he listens to her noises, letting her needy voice fill the air around them and before he can really help himself he groans hotly against her as he cums, spunk dirtying his slacks and a part of him is pleased and another is annoyed because how dare he cum and it not be inside of her like it belongs.

She pants heavily as she tries to catch her breath but he's suddenly growing rougher like he's getting ready to devour her and she looks down at him with pleading, teary eyed only to find him already looking up at her with an equally hungry look, his gaze unyielding like he refuses to miss anything and who would she be not to throw her head back again and whine as another orgasm tears through her like a knife through butter as she convulses against him.

He loved doing this to her, seeing her so weak and broken down and as she squirts with a broken cry he finally closes his eyes as a blush colors his cheeks while he swallows every last drop.

When she's empty, slacking against him like a boneless chicken, he pulls off her slowly and with a low chuckle he praises her for doing such a good job, for being such a good girl.

[aparticularbandit]

Agathian Backstory Pt. 8

finally this interlude is done

Agatha cries.

Curse her for a fool, she cries afterwards.  Curls up naked against Cian’s bare chest and soaks their scars with tears, her body shuddering with sobs.  I’m sorry, she murmurs, and it sounds like a whine, but she’s not whining.  I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong, you were very good, and I’m—  She sniffles, buries her head closer against their skin.

You’re okay, princess, Cian says, clear as light, one finger stroking gentle, soothing, along Agatha’s spine.  You were very vulnerable with me, and you did something very scary.  A lot of people cry after sex.  There’s no shame in that.

Agatha snorts.  Yeah, right.

Cian cradles her closer against them.  You are coming down from a huge emotional and physical high.  It only makes sense that you feel….  Their voice trails off.  I’m here, they say instead.  Cry all you want.  I’m right here.

It takes a moment – Agatha nods against their chest, is grateful that her nose isn’t running because there’s something completely unappealing about the idea of getting snot all over Cian’s scars, even if they can’t feel it – before she finally looks up.  Cian, my love?

Yes, princess?  Cian meets her eyes with their own soft ones.

Can we do that again?  Agatha bites her lower lip, fights the urge to look away.  Now that…now that I know what to expect, I don’t think I’ll feel so afraid.  I think I’ll enjoy it more.  She searches their eyes, pleading without the tone.  I don’t want to think back on all of this and just think about how scared I was; I want to know that I can enjoy it without being afraid.  Is that…is that okay?  She hesitates, finally, and for once, speaks truth, Is that too much for you?

Cian brushes a hand through Agatha’s already mussed hair, kisses away the tears staining her cheeks, and lets their lips find hers again, soft, pliant, and willing.  If that is what you want, dear one, they murmur against her lips.

That is what I want.  Agatha takes their free hand, guides it back to her waist, tangles her leg around theirs, and leans back until they are atop her again before tracing circles along their beautiful head.  She smiles as Cian’s hand presses firm into her waist, as Cian leans their body flush against hers again, as the hand tangled in her hair tightens as they tug her lips against theirs.

This time, Agatha feels no spike of fear.

~

She still cries after.

~

In the morning, Agatha wakes sore in places she didn’t know could be sore (and in places that hadn’t been sore for a very long time, courtesy of having stretched and exercised those muscles so often during ballet practice).  Her eyes might still be a little swollen from crying, but outside of that, she has never felt so relaxed.  So calm.  She curls easy against Cian and kisses the slope of their shoulder blade.

When Cian turns, not bleary-eyed, to face her, Agatha offers them a smile and rests her head back down on the pillow next to them.  I don’t want to get up, she says, brushing her nose against theirs, because if I get up, that will mean it’s over. She leans across and kisses Cian’s lips, expecting them to open the way they always have – well, not always, but more often than not, since they’ve started practicing.  But Cian doesn’t respond the way she expects, and she parts from them, brow furrowing. Cian?  What’s wrong?

In response, Cian gives only a sad, somber smile, made worse by the aching fondness Agatha can still read in their eyes.  This is my final lesson for you, dear, they say, slowly shifting into a sitting position, drawing their sheets up with them to cover their nakedness.  This is what it’s like when you use someone who cares for you.

Use someone who— Agatha starts to say the words back, mouthing them to herself, only to notice that Cian is getting out of bed, turning their back to her, and moving away from her.  She reaches out, places a hand on their elbow.  Cian, I don’t understand.

Cian doesn’t even look back.  Instead, they lower their head.  Agatha, you know that I care for you deeply.

Yes.

And you proceeded to use my love for you so that you could have access to my body, to this gift that I have given you.  Cian still doesn’t look back.  You lied to me, and you pressured me – manipulated me – into doing what you wanted.  Most people do not like being used, dear, but you must be especially careful with people like me, who love you.

Agatha still doesn’t understand.  Cian, I love you.  She draws nearer to them.  I’m sorry for lying, but I thought if I was honest, then you would never—

Then you should have been content with never.  Cian glances back, finally, and their eyes are steel, even with that fondness lying underneath.  People are not puppets to bend to your will or puzzles meant to be solved so that you can use them for what you want.  That’s not love, Agatha.  It’s a shoddy excuse for it.

Tears spring to Agatha’s eyes again.  Cian, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.

Now you do.  Cian turns away, stands, lets the sheets fall from around them.

Staring at their bare back, at the curve of their spine, the delicate angles of their shoulder blades, the spots she has touched with her fingers, her lips, Agatha says, again, I love you.

I know, Cian says, not turning back.  That’s what makes this so hard. One of their hands clenches. Releases.  Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.  You still have to eat.  Then they pull a robe from the back of their door, pull it on, and leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

Agatha stares after them for more than a few moments, wracking her brain to try and figure out how she can get out of this, what she can do – not to fix it, not to address the actual issue, but to force Cian to change their mind – not realizing that this is the exact problem Cian had to begin with.

It is all she knows how to do.

~

Months pass with no change, no matter how Agatha tries.

Cian never quite revokes the option for Agatha to kiss them whenever she wants, wherever she wants, so long as they are in the house together, and Agatha tries.  Every time, she finds them closed to her, unwanting, undesiring, and every time, they look at her as though she killed their brand new puppy.

Agatha decides, in a move she hopes will appeal to them, to not return to their dance company.  More, she gives her mother permission – through Cian – to proceed with what looks to be a long legal battle over how the company has been putting its dancers at risk, with Agatha’s case at the forefront.  This, too, changes nothing, as does her college applications, pursuing something that she knows Cian wants for her – something she finds, in the end, that she wants, too.

(She hates giving up the company.  Hates it.  But she also can no longer imagine going back to the way things were, being a pariah among the other dancers as she must be now, constantly being afraid that she will fall again and be thrown back into the hospital simply for missing a step.)

By this point, Agatha is certain no other company will take her, but she auditions for them just as she applies for college. Her fears are confirmed, but she is accepted into every college she applies to, though they are few in number.

In a final, desperate bid, Agatha pulls one of them out, shoves it in Cian’s face, and says, I’ll go to Vegas, Cian.  You’ll never see me again.  I’ll get drunk and pregnant and die from AIDS, and it will be your fault because you won’t—

Then Cian looks at her, and Agatha quiets.

You are an adult now, Agatha, Cian says, voice soft as anything.  You can make your own choices.  I have nothing more to teach you.

Stuck in a loop of chicken, waiting for Cian to break, not realizing that this is not a game and Cian is not playing, Agatha flees to college in Vegas.

She stays there a very long time.

[redmoonwanderer]

FFXIV Write 2023, Day 7 Prompt: Noisome

Qhol’a wrinkles his nose and leans back as Ryokuzan brings a white cloth dipped in something positively rancid closer to his face. “Qhol’a,” the au ra says like he would to a child, but doesn’t move closer. “I know the smell isn’t pleasant, but I need to clean the wound.”

Qhol’a eyes the cloth with suspicion, and as he does, Ryokuzan can’t help wondering what happened to the scared young miqo’te standing in shock in the yard with other conscripts just thirty or so minutes ago. Now he’s expressive, and so cat-like in his gestures he has a hard time keeping a straight face.

Probably the pain medicine he gave him earlier, dulling the pain and the shock. He knows that under this quiet facade is a young lad full of life, and all it takes is a little time and trust to draw it out. He does fear that the coming years will shave off this part of him, but he prays to Azeyma that will not come to pass.

“Hold your breath if you must, but I assure you, the sting will be far worse,” he says, and watches a moment longer, from wariness to thoughtfulness to acceptance Qhol’a goes, like watching seasons pass by not in months but seconds.

As the miqo’te squeezes the edge of the bed, Ryokuzan begins to clean the deep slash across his face. Any other conscript, or even a soldier, except perhaps for the most hardened one, would’ve at least hissed, but Qhol’a only tenses up.

He’d like to ask him about it, about the silence, because he knows he’s capable of sounds

(though he’d rather forget the two nights and days in the Gyr Abanian outpost)

but he has a feeling that this story is not one he’s ready to yet share, so he works quietly.

When he puts the cloth to the side and leans in to take a closer look, Qhol’a carefully opens his eyes, as if expecting the sting to return. Ryokuzan places his hand on his face, close to the eye that met the blade. With a deep sigh he leans back, saying, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I, or anyone in here, can restore your vision.”

Qhol’a looks down, angry, disappointed… but he clearly knew to expect the news, because after not many moments he nods, though he doesn’t face Ryokuzan. His tail is swishing back and forth, and he thinks of his daughter back home, who would tap her fingers when what she wanted to do was to trash the room and punch a face.

Oh, how he misses her, all her children, and her wife. To hear them, to hold them.

He places gauzes on the wound and covers the eye, but Qhol’a seems to be lost in thought. So much so he starts when Ryokuzan puts his hand on his arm. “Do you think you’re well enough to join the rest for dinner?”

A singular nod is all he gets, and as Ryokuzan stands up, so does Qhol’a. “At least your story will be better than that cowardly bastard’s,” the au ra says quietly, and feels joy as he sees the corner of Qhol’a’s mouth tug. “Though I believe you will not have to share it, as every other person who witnessed the bout will have spread it already. But come on, let us be off. Good food will start the healing, and the sleep after will not hurt, either.”

Together they leave the infirmary behind and join the rest in the canteen, which would likely hear this particular story for many more times in the years to come.

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[dienamights]

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[guardianofrivendell]

A Royal Tease

Thorin x fem!reader

Requested: kind of - this was a favor to a very special person! 

Warnings:  NSFW with an E rating, so please only read if you’re 18+! 

A/N: Wowee... that was a ride! Writing smut is definitely NOT the same as reading it :) Let me know how I did it and if I should write more smut in the future. I still feel like it jumps from here to there sometimes, but the longer I worked on it, the worse it got so I decided to stop editing and throw it on here 🙈

Before you start reading, another friendly reminder that English is NOT my first language, so if some sentences feel forced or the vocabulary feels too simple or not descriptive enough, that’s why! 

Thorin was lying on his back in the sand, eyes closed and panting heavily. 

“Another one!” he growled after a few seconds.  “Are you sure you can take another one? Married life sure is taking a toll on ya!” Dwalin teased, getting in his starting position again. He rolled his muscles and Thorin could hear his bones crack. Dwalin was enjoying this far too much. 

Thorin might be losing his touch, but Mahal be his witness, he would never admit defeat. He couldn’t give Dwalin the satisfaction. So he pushed himself back up while muttering a line of very colourful words, ready to smack that smirk of his best friend’s face.

These late night sparring sessions with Dwalin were a godsend to get rid of the tension and frustration in his body, but that didn’t mean he would let him off the hook so easily. 

Wiping the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand, he walked towards the opposite side of the training field.  His tunic clung to his body, dripping with sweat so Thorin decided to take it off. 

“What in Durin’s name are those?” Dwalin’s voice boomed across the field.

Thorin immediately held his tunic in front of him, as if he had been caught doing something that he shouldn’t. He completely forgot about them. 

“S’none of your business,” he muttered.

“As your personal guard it is my bloody business, Thorin,” Dwalin retorted, making his way towards his King. 

“Who gave ya those bruises?”

Thorin stared at his best friend and felt his cheeks flush. He could see Dwalin’s thoughts take a turn for the worst, blaming himself for his King’s injuries. But he couldn’t tell him the truth, could he?  

“You were not the one who caused them,” Thorin said in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Then who did?” he pressed on. 

“Leave it, Dwalin.”

But Dwalin was quicker and snatched the shirt out of his hands so the bruises were visible. 

“Thorin…”

Dwalin’s eyes traveled over the King’s bare chest. His pecs, abs and hips were covered in dark purple bruises, each one of them the size of a gold coin. His eyes landed on the waistband of Thorin’s breeches and it looked like the bruises didn’t stop there.

“I’m supposed to protect ya, Thorin. Who mistreated you like this?”

Thorin kept his eyes focused on Dwalin’s, as if he wanted to have a staring match. Dwalin could see the internal battle his King was fighting, before Thorin broke eye contact and turned around to put his tunic back on.

“They’re Y/N’s alright,” he hissed, without looking at him. 

Dwalin stood completely shocked for a few seconds, before he balled his fists and almost bristled in anger.

“Dam or not, she can’t treat ya that way, Thorin,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Thorin placed his hands on Dwalin’s shoulders to calm him down. 

“No, my friend. No, it’s not like that at all… They happened during…” Thorin took a deep breath and lowered his voice in case someone could overhear. “During our lovemaking.”

Dwalin’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes went wide.  But he didn’t back off like Thorin had expected. If any, it peaked his interest. 

“She hurts ya for… Pleasure?”

Dwalin’s nose scrunched up, like the thought of someone hurting their One for pleasure was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. Which, in his humble opinion, it most certainly was.

“In her world what happens at night is a lot more... interesting, to give it a name. We’ve been missing out, Dwalin. You can trust me on that.”

“But she hurts ya?” he repeated. 

Thorin chuckled. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt one bit. On the contrary...”

They started walking out of the training halls, their sparring session long forgotten. 

Thorin knew it might not be appropriate to discuss his love life so openly with his friend, but he was almost certain Y/N wouldn’t mind and he felt relieved he could finally talk to someone about it.

“You don’t know half the things she’s capable of, Dwalin… The way her hands feel when she… Mahal!” Thorin groaned at the memories of your late night activities. 

“Easy there, lad,” Dwalin chuckled. “Ya don’t want to ruin those trousers too, aye?”

Thorin shoved him in a playful jest, but the seasoned warrior didn’t even budge.  He shook his head, tutting at the poor attempt of his King. “Pathetic.”

While they were walking towards the Royal wing of the mountain, Thorin told his friend about some of the things he learned the last few weeks. 

Dwarrows were a bit old fashioned in the bedchambers, or ‘rather prude’ as Y/N had called it, and she helped him discover a different side of himself.

By the time Thorin had told Dwalin about the different positions he definitely should try besides the classic one, they’d reached the heavy double doors of Thorin’s chambers and Dwalin’s cheeks had turned a few shades darker. 

Dwalin halted and nodded at the guards posted at each side of the door. 

Thorin opened the door and the right corner of his lips twitched. He was still a bit agitated that he couldn’t beat his friend on the grounds but there was always another way to get the upper hand...

“Oh and Dwalin… They use their mouth too.”

“Well I may hope so, it’s hard to kiss without yer lips,” he said, not understanding what Thorin meant. 

“Not for kissing, Dwalin. Not only for kissing.”

Thorin closed the door, leaving a speechless and heavily flustered Dwalin in the hallway.

*

When he turned around with the intention of entering his chambers and relaxing for the night, someone forcefully pressed his back against the door and pulled his face down in a heated kiss. 

It only took him a fraction of a second to wrap his arms around his wife and happily return the kiss, not wasting any time with deepening it by swiping her bottom lip with his tongue.  He felt her smile against his lips and she broke the kiss. 

“Eager, are we?”

“I do recall it was you who couldn’t resist me, ghivashel, you didn’t even let me come in properly,” Thorin chuckled, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around her while he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. 

In the meantime, her hands started traveling on their own, making their way over his broad shoulders and upper arms, before finally settling on his chest. His tunic was still damp from his earlier activities and left nothing to the imagination. Not that she needed to imagine it, she knew exactly what he was hiding underneath. What was hers…

Y/N smiled. “I can’t greet my husband after a day’s hard work?”

She reached up and caught his lips in another kiss. Thorin hummed softly.

“Aye,” he said, his hands lingering on her back, but he couldn’t resist slowly lowering them towards the delicious curve of her buttocks. He gave them a firm squeeze and pulled her flush against his body. 

Y/N could feel someone else greeting her.  “Well hello to you both,” she smirked. 

Even though she knew Thorin was that kind of dwarf who gets easily aroused - which was incredibly fun during meetings and official visits - he still caught her off guard with how fast his soldier could report for duty. 

“We’re at your service, little one,” he said, lowering his voice. 

Licking her lips in anticipation, Y/N grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted it upwards.  Thorin raised his arms and helped her get the tunic off his body, carelessly tossing it aside. His breathing growing heavy already with the adrenaline still in his body from the earlier workout. 

His trousers and undergarments were next, she tugged at the laces and let the fabric pool around his ankles. 

She took a few steps back and took the time to admire the view before her.  His silver and black hair screaming at her to get her hands in, so she could tug it just the way he liked it. The dark hair dusted across his broad chest, trailing down towards his V line and circling around his member. The bruises her lips left the night before stood out on his skin, proof of her claim on him.  Thorin was absolutely stunning. A work of art.

“Like what you see?” he hummed, his voice still a deep rumble, hitting her right in her core. Mahal, bless that voice! 

“Always,” she whispered.

When she turned around and started walking away from him, Thorin grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

“You’re not going to leave me like this, are you,” he growled. 

He knew she was capable of it, she’d done it before. There was nothing his wife liked more than teasing him and leaving him hanging for a while. According to her it was fun, she liked getting him all riled up, but for Thorin it was absolute torture. He wasn’t used to not getting things when he wanted them. 

“Easy tiger, I was just going to draw you a bath.”

*

Thorin sighed deeply when he reclined in the tub, the warm water soothing his aching muscles. 

“Feels good?” Y/N smiled, getting a washcloth ready. 

He nodded and hummed softly, closing his eyes. His nose filled with the scent of the burning wood from the fire and lavender from the bathwater, and combined with the warm temperature of the water it made him finally relax.

She sat down behind the bathtub and took the bottle of oil for his hair. Y/N brought the opened bottle close to her face, smelling the herbal fragrance. She inhaled it deeply, loving the smell because it reminded her of Thorin. Her husband. Her King. 

“I’ll start with your hair.”

She poured a little oil on her hands and rubbed them together to spread it evenly.  Her fingers purposefully moved around his scalp, working in small circular motions. He moaned when she added just the right amount of pressure to massage the oil in his hair and again when she started delivering gentle strokes around his ears and neck.  With a cup she poured hot water over his hair to rinse it. Thorin kept his eyes closed when she was finished, his body completely relaxed and at peace.

Seeing how he turned into mush under her skilled hands, made washing Thorin’s hair something Y/N loved to do. It was not her favorite part… no, that part came up next. 

She leaned over and pressed a kiss below his ear, and took the washcloth from the side of the tub. Carefully pouring some oil on it, she kneaded the cloth until it was properly soaked, before she let it glide over his chest. 

A smile played around her lips when Thorin groaned as soon as she started massaging his muscles with the cloth, washing away the tension in them. 

Her hands let the washcloth glide over the muscles in his arms, shoulders and legs, adding enough pressure to work the knots out, leaving no skin untouched.

Except the part where he needed her touch the most. 

Every time she came close, Thorin bit his lip in anticipation but she always changed direction or directed her attention elsewhere. He grew more and more desperate, she noticed. So far so good.  

“What were you and Dwalin talking about?” she asked, curious about the subject of their conversation.  

Thorin opened his eyes, but couldn’t meet hers. 

“Ah… yes. Well, I may have taken off my tunic during our sparring session tonight.”

Oh. So Dwalin got curious, she thought.  She abandoned the washcloth, letting it float around the water.

“I bet he had some questions about these?”

Her finger started trailing the contours of the bruises. First in a faster circular motion, but as she got closer to his hips she slowed her pace down and adjusted the pressure to nothing more than a feather-light touch. 

Thorin closed his eyes again and let his head fall back against the sloping side of the tub. His breath came quicker and when her eyes wandered down his stomach, she was pleased to notice his member was back at full attention again. When she let her finger linger near the tip, she could hear him hold his breath in anticipation. 

“What did you tell him?”

But Thorin didn’t give her an answer, too focused on her movements and ministrations. She was so close, just a little more to the left...

But instead of doing what he wanted her to do - and she knew he was desperate for it, her teasing and lingering touches had made him wild with desire - she changed direction again and traced the inside of his thigh and pelvic bone, purposefully ignoring his hard on. 

“Tease!” he groaned, clutching the edge of the tub in frustration. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow in question. “A tease? Me?”

She stood up, clutching her chest like she was actually shocked by his accusation.

“I would never,” she smirked, and Thorin loved the way her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to tell me what you told Dwalin.”

“I merely gave him some advice based on our experiences, ghivashel. I believe master Dwalin will keep his flushed cheeks for the remainder of the week. Serves him right.”

Satisfied with his answer, she turned to grab a towel, dropping it on a nearby chair for him to use later. 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” 

Her eyes lingered on his pulsing cock for a few seconds before she winked at him. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much.”

Before she could leave him, he called out to her.

“The least you can do is give me another kiss.”

Y/N smiled and leaned down to peck his nose. 

“No, a kiss worthy of a king,” he groaned. 

But when she leaned further down to press her lips on his, she missed how his eyes held the same twinkle hers did a few moments ago…

Before she knew it, Thorin had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her on top of him. Their movements made the water splash everywhere and Y/N shrieked when her dress got soaked with the bathwater. 

“Oakenshield,” she growled, pushing her off his chest with her hands and settling in his lap.

She enjoyed the lustful clouding of his eyes when she moved just the slightest, giving him the friction he longed for. 

“Always trying to get what you want,” she reprimanded him. 

“Can you blame me?”

His hands drifted admiringly over her body, following the curves of her bossom and hips. 

“Yes!”

He was taking over control and she had to stop it before she gave in. With some difficulty she managed to climb out of the tub and wrung the water out of the dress of her skirt, turning the bathroom floor in a small pond.  Seeing as Thorin made no move to get out of his bath or apologize, Y/N decided to take the teasing to a higher level. 

Keeping her back to her husband, she slowly unhooked the fastings of her dress and let it drop to the floor with a slap.  She heard the sharp intake of Thorin’s breath and the slosh of the water when he sat up. 

Oh, that’s right… Did she forget to mention she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? Oops…

He wasted no time in getting out of the bath, not even bothering to take a towel to dry himself. The only thing on his mind was to get to his wife as fast as possible. 

She whimpered when their bodies clashed together, the evidence of his arousal poking between her butt cheeks. His lips attacked her neck, and she was almost certain the firm grip of his fingers on her waist would leave bruises the next day. Not that she minded.   

He guided them into their bedroom, and when the back of her knees touched the bed frame, her mind cleared and she tutted at him. 

“Since when are you in charge, yâsûn?”

He cupped her breasts, softly kneading them and letting his thumbs flick over her nipples. He lowered his head to take one in his mouth, not stopping his caresses on the other one. 

Y/N sighed and let her head fall on her shoulder, her hand finding its way in his hair. His damned mouth...

“I don’t hear you complain,” he smirked.

She certainly didn’t complain when he slid one of his thick, calloused fingers between her folds, and Thorin moaned when he felt how slick she already was. 

“You’ve been enjoying your teasing,” he accused her. “All this for me?”

She grabbed his length and he hissed at the sudden contact. She stroked a few times to spread the precum, and when her thumb flicked the head it took all his strength not to come all over her hand right that minute. 

“I couldn’t stay behind with all this for me...” she smirked. 

With a growl he connected their lips again. His wife knew exactly which buttons to press and    he both loved and hated it. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed her thighs and squeezed them, urging her to jump up. Y/N did as asked - which surprised Thorin - and locked her ankles behind his back to keep her balance. 

Not bothering to clear the furs from the bed, he laid her down on top of them, her hair sprawled out on the pillows. 

She bit her lip when she noticed how his eyes had darkened even further, Thorin looked like he could devour her any minute. She didn’t realise how close to the truth she was. Maybe he needed another round of teasing...

Before she could follow through with her plan, Thorin took the lead.

He flipped her on her stomach, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto him, all in one fluent move. It was a position they only did once before but he had already claimed it as his favorite. 

Knowing what he wanted, she placed her knees on either side of his hips and let her back rest against his front. The hairs on his chest rubbed deliciously against her soft skin and she had a hard time staying still. The muscles in his thighs and stomach were rock hard, just like her toy in between.  Y/N’s hand went up his hair and tugged it harshly when her clit came in contact with his cock.

“Are you ready for me, little one?”

His voice got even lower if that was possible, the words wrapping around her like a silky smooth blanket. If he kept talking like that, it would be over for her before they even began. 

“Thorin, please,” she begged.

“I thought you liked teasing?” he chuckled. 

She grabbed his member, guiding it to her entrance and lowered herself down in an attempt to shut him up, a desperate moan falling from her lips when their hips connected. Thorin tightened his grip on her. She felt absolutely divine. 

“Only when I’m the one doing it,” she gasped, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out. 

One of his arms slid around her stomach and settled between her legs, circling her clit with his thumb when he began to thrust upwards. 

They soon found a steady rhythm, and Y/N could feel her orgasm building quickly. 

No, too soon, she thought and she slowed down the pace, slapping his hand away from her clit.

She leaned forward, keeping her body up with her hands on the furs. The new angle made her feel every inch of him and a loud moan escaped her throat. 

This is what she had been craving the entire day. 

She raised her hips until only his tip was inside of her and then lowered herself down, agonizingly slow. 

“You’re such a good girl for me. Mahal, keep going, do not stop!”

She loved it when he got vocal, and with each curse and praise he murmured, she felt herself getting closer to her release. 

Thorin noticed her change in breathing and pitch of her moans and sped up the pace. 

This was all feeling too good and with the help of his encouragements she came undone, clutching the furs until her knuckles turned white.

He cursed heavily when she clamped down on him, but did his best to help her ride out her high. He kissed her neck and stilled his movements to give her a break, only resuming them when she nodded that she was okay. 

As he began to thrust even harder and faster, Thorin gathered her hair in one hand to keep her in place, his other hand firmly on her waist while he chased his own release. His moans became increasingly louder, less controlled with each thrust and a curse escaped his lips.

“You feel too good, ghivashel, m’not going to last,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

He came with a shout and a cutoff curse but kept thrusting in and out of her until he felt himself soften. When he finally pulled out, he covered her back in kisses.

Y/N laid down on the bed and opened her arms for him to cuddle. Both their bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and it took them a while to catch their breath. 

These were the moments when she felt the safest. In his arms, in the after bliss of their lovemaking, listening to the soft and even breathing of her husband. She kissed his head and trailed the muscles of his upper back with her finger, earning her a content sigh from Thorin. 

A chuckle escaped her throat and he looked up at her questioningly.

“Now you have something new to tell Dwalin,” she said with a wink. 

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @elvish-sky​ @moony-artnstuff​ @laurfilijames​ @kirenia15​ @moarfandomtrash​

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

[twstgabrielle]

It had started off simple enough.

Just a few sniffles here and there, nothing to be too concerned about. Then you had started to sneeze which you didn't pay much attention to. After all the seasons were changing so it wasn't unusual that your nose would act up somewhat. Then you started to cough. Like the kind of coughing that made you sound like you were dying. Added with a sore throat and a massive headache it became quite clear that maybe this was more than what you originally thought. That perhaps you may have gotten a nasty cold.

But you would never admit it.

Oh hell no. You were a strong, independent person with a ton of responsibilities to do like taking care of your friends and Grimm or keeping an eye on the other dorms in case something like God forbid an Overblot occurred. You couldn't afford getting sick. So like the stubborn person you were, you continued your everyday life, getting sicker and sicker. And of course your friends began to grow concerned, especially your roommate Grimm.

"Hey minion! You sound awful! You're not dying are you???"

The feline yowled into your ear, making your headache worse. You reached within yourself for patience to deal with Grimm. While you loved him to death sometimes you really just wanted to shake him. Just a little.

"I'm fine. Now quit shouting please you're too loud-"

You'd begun to say only to start coughing and wheezing, your hand covering your mouth. Grimm flinched at the noise. You sounded horrible, what with the froggy sounding voice, sneezing and hacking. It was obvious that you weren't okay but given that Grimm had never dealt with something like this it was difficult for him to figure out how to help you other than being his usual self.

"Maybe you should stay in the dorm today."

Grimm suggested trying not to let his concerns show through. The look he received from you was not a nice one. Filled with irritation that only someone who was sick and stubborn would show.

"Grimm. I'm fine. I don't have the time to stay in Ramshackle and miss school. So let's just get our things and go."

You crocked putting an end to it. Grimm looked at you, ears flickering nervously before letting it go. The small monster knew he couldn't argue with you on this, so he decided to keep an eye on you. After all if you went down then he couldn't become the greatest mage to ever live. That and he may or may not care about you. But he wouldn't tell you that. Gathering your things the two of you headed out to get to class, the chilly autumn air hitting you full force and making you shiver. Tugging your coat tighter around you and making sure Grimm was secured within said coat, you locked up Ramshackle and went to class.

~~~~~

Ace Trappola was not the most observant person in the world. He preferred to stay in his own business and not get into things that would make his life harder then it needed to be. Which was ironic given that he was friends with you and the others who just like him were magnets for trouble. However today while he was waiting for you and Grimm to show up with the others he quickly took notice that something was off about you when you had finally gotten to them. Your eyes were somewhat glassy and unfocused, your cheeks red and your breathing seemed whistley. Your hair was a mess somewhat almost as if you were too tired to bother with it and you kinda moved like a zombie. The red head was instantly alert, and it seemed like he wasn't the only one who noticed the changes in you as the rest of the group went quiet.

"(Y/N).....! Are you alright??? You look awful!"

Deuce said instantly concerned about you. Jack stared at you in an imitating mother like manner while Epel and Sebek just looked at you baffled and concerned.

"(Y/N) you're face is all red, are you alright?"

Epel asked already reaching out to touch your face to make sure you were alright.

"Human you look horrid!"

Sebek said in a shout, making you flinch at his tone. Jack moved closer and just like Epel touched your face.

"You're burning up."

He stated his amber eyes sharp. Epel let out a small gasp when he felt your cheeks as well.

"He's right! You're burning up! Why are you out here???"

Epel asked sounding like a scolding mother. It reminded Ace of Vil scarily enough. Reddish brown eyes met your (E/C) ones.

"You're sick. You should be laying down, not wandering around in the cold. Grimm why didn't you stop them?"

Ace asked annoyed somewhat. Grimm seemed to huff and was about to snap at Ace when you'd finally seemed to snap out of your sickly stupor and glare at the group annoyed.

"I'm here because I'm fine and Grimm is not my parent so he can't tell me what to do. Now if y'all are done crowding me and making so much noise then we should be heading to class. You know Professor Trein hates it when we're late."

You snapped somewhat. Your friends quickly backed off slightly startled by your irritation and your voice. You sounded like a choking frog due to coughing so much and your runny nose. Before any of them could stop you, you were already pushing your way through them to head to class. But as you went to move faster than you were, you quickly grew dizzy and began to stumble forward. You would have hit the ground if Deuce didn't step in and grab you.

"(Y/N)!"

Your friends called your name in surprise and concern. You felt like the world was spinning and your head was pounding harshly. You were so out of it that you didn't even notice that you were being picked up by Jack to had taken you from Deuce.

"That's enough you're going to the infirmary. Ace, Deuce go to Professor Trein and let him know that (Y/N) and Grimm won't be in class today due to being sick. Epel, Sebek go on ahead and let the nurse know that (Y/N) is coming to the infirmary. I'll be right behind you as soon as I got their things and them situated."

Jack said. He got various acknowledgements from each of them before they went off to go do what was asked of them. You weakly tried to push Jack away from you but obviously it didn't work. The wolf picked you up bridal style, your bag with your school on his shoulder. Grimm was slightly panicking, not used to things like this.

"Are they going to be okay??? They're......they're not dying right.....?"

Grimm asked, the question he'd asked you this morning becoming an actual concern. What if you were dying? Humans, especially magic less ones were quite fragile he'd come to learn while living with you. And the last thing he wanted was to lose you. You were his family if he was being completely honest. Jack gave Grimm a look, his ears flickering slightly.

"They'll be okay. They just have a cold. We just need to get them to the nurse so they can rest and get better."

He said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. Grimm seemed to take it and he sagged a bit in relief however he still glanced at you nervously. Jack began to make his way towards the infirmary, keeping a tight grip on you. You on the other hand just laid your head on his chest, coughing harshly and snuggling into him for warmth.

"You really are an idiot sometimes...."

Jack mumbled as he jogged towards the infirmary where you could hopefully get better.

~~~~~

The infirmary was filled with a few students when Epel and Sebek burst through the doors startling them. The nurse turned towards the disturbance, ready to chew someone out when she saw the two boys.

"Our friend....! They're really sick and we need help....!"

Epel wheezed trying to catch his breath. Sebek just nodded, ready to fight for a bed space should he have to. He wasn't above it, not when his friend was in need. The nurse was quick to respond.

"Alright I'll get a bed ready for them. You two go sit down and I'll bring you some water."

The nurse responded before hurrying off to do her tasks. It was only a few minutes later when Jack came in with you and Grimm. Epel and Sebek looked up to see if you were okay when the nurse came back in and quickly ushered the trio to one of the open beds.

"Lay them down here, and then go wait by the desk. I'll take a look at your friend."

She said shooing them out once you were placed on the bed. The three boys sat down slightly on edge by everything. While they maybe overeating somewhat they couldn't help it. You'd been sick for a good while and seeing you trip over your own feet due to a dizzy spell and hearing you literally hack up your lungs had not helped the situation at all. Shortly after they'd sat down to wait Ace and Deuce came into the infirmary, looking breathless like they'd ran all the way.

"Professor Trein says that (Y/N) and Grimm are excused. How are they?"

Deuce asked as he sat down next to Epel. Ace plopped down next to Sebek, running a hand through his messy reddish brown hair.

"We were just told to sit here and wait. The nurse is checking them over now."

Epel replied quietly as to not disturb the other students in the infirmary. Deuce nodded leaning back into his chair. The group of five sat there silently, catching their breath and waiting for the nurse. After what had felt like forever when in reality it was only a few minutes the nurse finally came back out.

"Well your friend has caught a nasty, nasty cold. I'm guessing that due to the autumn air, possibly stress from working so much and a few other things made them get sick. The best thing to do is to let them rest and take some cold medicine. Otherwise your friend is fine."

The nurse said with a smile. The boys sagged with relief glad it was nothing serious.

"We'll make sure they do."

Deuce said determined. The nurse smiled again before going to check on the other students in the infirmary. The group made a silent agreement then. They'd make sure that you got better and did as you were told until you finally became well again. You were their companion after all and you'd helped them out more times than they could count. The lest they could do was help you out as well.

~~~~~

When the boys had finally gotten you back to your dorm with the medicine the nurse gave to them, it was no surprise that the news of you being sick made its way around the school. You were pretty famous after all what with the Overblots and whatnot.

"Ahhh (Y/N) really is a reckless thing aren't they?"

Cater said, somewhat concerned. Trey gave a nod of agreement while Riddle silently fumed at your reckless behavior.

"It doesn't surprise me. (Y/N) is always working hard and never really took breaks. It's a miracle it took them this long to catch a cold."

Trey responded looking through his cookbook.

"Honestly, you'd think that the Prefect would know better. Great Seven they gave Ace and Deuce quite a scare."

Riddle said remembering how the duo had bursted into Professor Trein's classroom that morning and told him what had happened.

"Yeah they really did. But at least it's nice to know that they care about the Prefect under all their attitude."

Cater said with a smile. Trey smiled as well somewhat proud of the freshmen. Riddle just nodded in agreement.

"When they come back we should have them bring them some soup. Once I find the recipe we'll send a bowl of it with Ace and Deuce."

Trey said flipping through his cookbook some more. Riddle looked over his vice dorm leader's shoulder, looking slightly interested while Cater smiled a sudden beaming smile.

"I can take pictures of the soup and post them to my page. Plus I think (Y/N) will get a kick out of Riddle in the kitchen helping us out."

Cater teased. Riddle sputtered going slightly red in embarrassment while Trey silently laughed.

~~~~~

Rook watched as Vil looked at a few pieces of clothing, his amethyst hues staring at the clothing critically. The dorm leader was looking for a warm sweater that was about your size. After hearing that you'd gotten sick Vil had been rather quick in going into his famous mom mode as you'd dubbed it. The hunter made his way towards his companion, green eyes amused at how dedicated Vil was to finding you the perfect sweater.

"Any luck Roi du Poison?"

Rook asked curiously.

"Not really. I'm trying to figure out if this one will work best for (Y/N). The sweater they own is rather worn out, and it's getting colder. They really are mindless about these things, it's no wonder they'd gotten ill."

Vil said in a somewhat irritated manner. However Rook knew that under Vil's irritation was legitimate concern for you. You were always trying to help out everyone yet you always seemed to neglect yourself. So hearing that you'd gotten sick had made many of those who knew you personally grow concerned.

"Ah-ha. Found it."

Vil said grabbing a thick, fluffy sweater from the pile. It was a light lavender color and was somewhat big, with a soft kind of fluffy material. However Vil knew you'd like it given that you'd told him once that you liked oversized sweaters that were soft. Rook gave a nod of approval, a smile on his face.

"They'll love it Roi du Poison! We can send it with Monsieur Cherry Apple."

Rook said as he grabbed a nearby basket to put it in. Vil folded the sweater up with care and placed a jug of Epel's family's apple juice along with it.

"There. Hopefully this will help them feel better."

Vil said satisfied. Rook gave a small smile at the dorm leader and with that the two grabbed the basket and made their way to find Epel.

~~~~~

Ruggie had known Leona for a long time. So seeing the usually lazy lion putting so much effort into something. Especially for someone else. The dorm leader was putting together a fur blanket, that he was going to give to you to keep yourself warm during the night. After all Ramshackle wasn't the best place in the world and what with the chilly autumn nights it wouldn't help you with your cold. So here Leona was with Ruggie watching him in stunned amusement as he tried to make it look somewhat decent.

"Shishishi, who would have thought that you actually cared Leona."

Ruggie said chuckling in amusement. Leona shot him a nasty glare, his green eyes narrowed.

"I just don't want to hear the herbivores complain. It disturbs my naps."

He said stiffly, refusing to say anything more about the subject. Ruggie just snickered knowing that despite Leona's grouchy attitude, it was obvious that he cared about you......even if begrudgingly.

"Whatever you say Leona."

Ruggie said with a mischievous smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Leona's tail flicked in irritation before he went back to work, grumbling lowly under his breath.

'Stupid Prefect. This had better bring me some peace and quiet.'

~~~~~

Scarabia was a usually hectic place given that Kalim was the dorm leader but today......today the usually chipper teen was even more chaotic than usual. Rushing around the dorm kitchen, Kalim searched among the vast amounts of teas he'd required from people unable to find one specific one. As Kalim searched he didn't take notice of Jamil coming into the kitchen, the vice dorm leader's grey eyes going wide at the sight he saw.

"Kalim what the hell are you doing?"

Jamil asked startling the poor boy. Kalim about jumped out of his skin, ruby red eyes wide as he whirled around towards Jamil. The young man couldn't help but compare Kalim to a deer caught in headlights with his startled expression before the young heir grew sheepish.

"Ah Jamil I was looking for tea...."

Kalim said sounding a bit awkward. Jamil quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Kalim to finish.

"But it's this specific kind of tea. It's the kind you make me when I get sick, the one that helps soothe sore throats. But I can't find it anywhere!"

Kalim finished looking now frustrated by the end of his explanation. Jamil instantly knew what Kalim was asking for and quickly connected the dots when he realized that Kalim probably wanted to give you this tea. It had spread fast the news of you getting a nasty cold, so it wasn't a huge surprise that Kalim the sweet boy, wanted to help you.

"I know where it is. Clean up this mess and I'll be right back."

Jamil said before disappearing from the kitchen to get the tea. Kalim beamed happily and quickly started to clean up his mess, making sure that it was the way it was. By the time Jamil came back with one of the familiar containers full of the tea leaves Kalim about sprung himself onto the young teen.

"Thank you Jamil! You really are a life saver! Hopefully this will help (Y/N) get better!"

Kalim said happily hugging the flustered man.

"O-oi okay I get it-! Get off of me-! Kalim-!"

Jamil said flustered as his face grew red. Kalim just hugged him more, unaware that he was making Jamil go red. The dark haired man realized that Kalim wasn't going to let go so with a somewhat embarrassed look he accepted his fate.

'(Y/N) had better be grateful for this. The things I do....'

Jamil thought. And if his heart raced a tiny bit at Kalim's hug and happiness then that'd be his little secret.

~~~~~

"Eh Azul~ Whatcha doing?"

Floyd asked curious. Jade turned to look at the duo, also curious as to what Azul was doing. The octopus merman was making something, a bright colored liquid of sorts.

"Well if you must know I'm making something known as popsicles."

Azul answered not bothering to look up from his task. The twins exchanged a look, curiosity growing.

"Oh? And why are you making popsicles? Is it a new food item for the lounge?"

Jade asked, a sharp smile on his face.

"More like an experiment of sorts. I'm going to send them to random people to have them taste test."

Azul responded. Floyd suddenly smiled widely looking much like a predator.

"Oh~? So you're making them for Shrimp-Chan?"

Floyd said in a sing song tone. Azul froze and shot Floyd an annoyed look while Jade laughed silently at Azul's expression.

"Oh my, this is a surprise. Making a treat for (Y/N) because they're sick? That's awfully kind of you."

Jade said teasingly. Floyd let out a laugh while Azul huffed.

"Well I am a kind soul.....besides.....if these turn out right......"

Azul said a gleam in his eyes as his glasses flashed.

"Then I can make a profit off of them."

Azul said smiling a little smile. The twins smiled widely, amused by Azul's mindset.

"Ah Azul only you~"

Floyd said as Jade nodded in agreement. The trio continued to talk to one another as Azul made the popsicles, the unsaid affection that they shared for you unsaid. Besides there was nothing wrong with making a possible business move while helping someone else.

~~~~~

Idia stared at his manga collection, eyeing each one closely. He wanted to make sure he picked out a good series for you to read while you were recovering. Something simple that didn't require too much energy to pay attention to. Yet old enough that Idia wouldn't mind if something happened to the book, not that he couldn't replace it plus you much like him cared deeply for manga. So he had no problems letting you borrow them, knowing that you'd take good care of them. Ortho sat on his older brother's bed, holding a stuffed toy that he was planning to give to you to help you feel better.

"Ah w-what about this one?"

Idia asked softly showing Ortho the book. The young boy looked at it critically, golden hues focused on it.

"Hhhh I think they'd like it! It's got good reviews online and it's a simple story, I'm sure that (Y/N) would appreciate it!"

Ortho said in a chipper tone. Idia smiled a crooked smile and gathered the first few volumes of the series to send to you. Ortho placed the stuffed toy, a three headed dog plushie next to the books looking proud of himself.

"H-hopefully this will help them...."

~~~~~

Lilia Vanrouge had lived a long time. And because he lived a long time he had learned quite a bit of knowledge on humans and human illnesses. Especially since he had two sons who were human, (granted one of them was half human but still) and got sick quite often as children. Which is why he was now currently giving advice to Malleus to help him out with trying to help you in your recovery from your illness. The dragon fae was absorbing as much as he could about human illnesses, thinking about what he could do to help you. Silver was laying on the dormitory couch, already having figured out what he would send to you. A comfy pillow for you to sleep on so you could rest. Lilia watched as Malleus got lost in thought, thinking carefully.

"The children of men are so fragile......it makes it rather difficult to figure out what to get them especially when they're sick."

Malleus said softly, expression somewhat troubled. Lilia gave Malleus a small fatherly look and patted his arm.

"You'll figure something out Malleus. (Y/N) will love whatever you give them, that much I'm sure of."

Lilia said with a smile. Malleus just nodded his head before getting up to think about this more. Silver watched as his companion left before turning his amethyst eyes towards his father.

"Do you think he'll really be able to find something old man?"

Silver asked curious. Lilia gave a small knowing smile.

"I'm sure of it. Now let's get our things together to send to the wee beastie. I've got a CD to help them sleep."

Lilia said cheerfully, holding up a copy of the music him and the music club made. Silver shook his head looking unsure.

"I don't think heavy metal will help them sleep."

~~~~~

Ramshackle dorm was dark and quiet when you'd finally woken up from your sick induced sleep. Blinking in a sick way you looked around the room and you were startled to see your friends fast asleep around you. Ace, Sebek and Jack were sleeping on the ground, snoring softly. Epel and Deuce were sleeping up against the couch, snuggled rather closely. Grimm was sleeping on your pillow, snuggled close to you. Even though you were in a sick haze you couldn't help but smile at the scene.

'Good for you Deuce.'

You thought hazy like before you took notice of all the things in your room. Different types of objects and other knickknacks that weren't there before now sat in your room. Confused by all of it you shakily got out of bed to take a look and sucked in a wheezy breath.

Gifts. They were get well gifts.

From all of your friends.

You felt your eyes sting as you were overwhelmed with the sudden affection you felt for your friends from different dorms. They had put in all this effort to help make you feel better and it lowkey made you wanna hunt them all down and smother them with hugs. But unfortunately it would have to wait until you were better. Deciding to save the deep looking through for the morning you looked towards your band of boys and smiled affectionately at their sleeping forms. It warmed your heart to know that your friends cared for you. You made a mental note to figure out a way to make it up to them with all the trouble you may have caused. You were about to go to bed when the familiar sight of fireflies in the Ramshackle graveyard caught your attention.

"Tsunotarou....."

You crocked not really thinking about it as you shakily made your way towards the outside. Later you'd probably regret it but you wanted to see your friend. Wrapping your blanket tightly around your shoulders you made your way outside shivering from the cold. Shivering you made your way to the graveyard and finally caught sight of him.

"Tsunotarou.....what's up....?"

You said voice cracking slightly from your sore throat. Malleus turned towards the sound of your sickly voice, green eyes filled with concern.

"Child of man.....you should be asleep and resting....."

Malleus said his tone soft and worried. You gave him a small smile and sat down next to him, curling close to him to keep warm. The fae prince wrapped his cape around you as soon as you sat down to try and keep you warm.

"I wanted to see you......"

You mumbled shyly, your mouth filter off due to being sick. Malleus went slightly red, looking away from your honesty. You couldn't help but smile at how he was acting before you noticed him reaching for something.

"I'd gotten you a get well gift.....it's not much but I hope it helps."

Malleus said softly before handing you a wrapped package. Curious you opened it and stared at it in shock. Inside was a somewhat awkward looking scarf and hat. It was obvious that it was handmade by the way it was switched together, some of the lines awkward and messy.

"I heard that humans get cold easily so I had decided that perhaps these would help keep you warm. I apologize for the presentation. I am not well versed in making things the human way."

Malleus said looking somewhat embarrassed by his gift. You on the other hand were touched. Feeling your eyes sting again you wiped at them, sniffling due to them and your stuffy nose. Malleus instantly grew concerned thinking he'd done something to upset you when he was met with a smile.

"I love it.....thank you so much Malleus, I can't wait to wear them back to school."

You said in your stuffy voice. Malleus gave you a warm look before helping you up.

"I'm glad you like it (Y/N)......let's get you back to bed. You need to rest and recover."

The tall man said softly. You gave a sleepy nod leaning into him as he transported the two of you back to your room. Helping you into bed, you felt yourself relax and start to drift. Malleus threw the blanket on you making sure you were covered.

"Goodnight beastie. Get well soon."

Malleus's soft voice whispered before a gentle sensation touched your forehead.

'If I didn't know any better......I'd say he just kissed my forehead......'

You thought in a giddy sick daze before finally drifting off to sleep surrounded by your loved ones.

*Ah I didn't mean for this to be so long I just wanted to write some self indulgence. I've caught a nasty cold a few days ago and I've been feeling like shit so I decided to write something to make me feel better I honestly didn't mean to make it so long shdhdhdhfh. Also I may have added some ships. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

[taechaos]

A Parting Gift

Continuation of Blackmail from Textbook Love

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: "He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob."

warnings: deception/manipulation, dubcon, handjob, spit, slight angst

word count: 2.4k

tag: @mwitsmejk

a/n: jungkook is a bit cruel in this 😖 a flop.

Every time you think about Jimin seeing you in your most vulnerable state, you want to cry, gag, vomit, but all you can do is look down and walk away from his direction in a hurry. Jungkook told you to avoid him, and it’s the easiest option for you right now, but you wish you could tell him it was an accident. If he doesn’t see you, he’ll forget it quicker and save you the embarrassment.

It’s been three days since the incident, and it’s Monday as you clutch your binder to your chest while walking to your afternoon lecture. The coast is clear when you scurry down the halls, the lightning dim due to the gloomy weather outside. It’s going to rain soon, but you got off easy by arriving early. The campus is not crowded yet, just as you expected before coming. Chances of seeing Jimin are supposed to be lowered in this instance, but the boy really can’t take a hint.

You hear him holler your name from a distance in the corridor, and you quicken your steps anxiously. You’re internally begging for him to leave you alone, to forget you exist, just to not approach you. The chants don’t matter when he gently holds your shoulder a few seconds later. You screw your eyes shut the moment you’re turned around, hoping he would just go away and spare the shame.

“Hey,” he exhales, out of breath from his short sprint to you. “Why were you ignoring me just now?”

“I didn’t hear you,” you lie and open your eyes. Jimin frowns.

“That’s not true,” he mumbles, “I was pretty loud and you don’t even have earphones in.”

You don’t say anything and grimace at the floor instead, avoiding his gaze for as long as you can. You’re not a good liar, and Jimin realizes that all too quickly. He continues quietly, “Is this about the… video?”

“It was an accident!” you blurt out with flushed cheeks, “J-Jungkook was going to send it to himself, but…”

She’s so dense, Jimin thinks in astonishment. “He told you that?” He knows it was on purpose; Jungkook was sending him a message beyond the media: that he stands no chance; that you belong to him. He was telling him to back off, but Jimin is more strong-willed than that.

“Yes… please forget about that video.” You avert your gaze to him pleadingly.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tries to comfort, “but are you sure it wasn’t intentional?”

Both of you miss Jungkook exiting the lecture hall when you respond. His brows furrow the moment he notices the interaction, but his vision is blocked by other students leaving. He shoves a few as he watches you from afar, your back facing him and Jimin’s expression angering him with its doubtful look. Why the fuck is he still talking to her? He fumes in his spot until you turn back on your path to attend your lecture. You glance at him mid-way and all of your worries vanish the moment you lock eyes. You are taken aback by his glare as he waves you off and stalks up to Jimin who is just idly standing by without moving.

He only breaks out of his trance when Jungkook grabs him by his collar. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear what she said,” he refers to the video with a subtle snarl.

“Heard it loud and clear,” Jimin retaliates obnoxiously. The halls are emptying itself out, and he grows a bit more nervous when he realizes that he’s alone.

“Are you fucking dense? Why are you still following her around like a fucking creep?” He’s greeted with silence, and another possibility dawns on him. A cheshire grin crosses his features as he scoffs, “Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?”

Jimin blinks, dumbfounded, but doesn’t respond. He’s harshly shoved and the back of his head bangs against the wall, echoing in the otherwise silent area. An oomf escapes his mouth at the force, but Jungkook isn’t apologetic.

“You jacked off to it, Jimin?” he closes in on the suffering man who only stares at him. “Answer me.”

“N-No, I wouldn’t-” He’s cut off by the stinging pain on his scalp. 

Jungkook yanks his hair back without mercy, and sings, “Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, taking too long to respond… all signs of lying, no?”

“You’re hurting me,” Jimin holds onto his wrist with both hands as he groans. Jungkook only tugs on it harder.

“I’ll let go if you answer me honestly.” 

Jimin knows that Jungkook is waiting for one specific answer; it is obvious by the sick glint in his eyes. Alas, he tries again, “I-I didn’t do that!”

A deep sigh leaves his mouth with an eye roll, and he brings his free hand to wrap his fingers around Jimin’s neck. He doesn’t put any pressure on him yet, and Jimin is helpless because of the weight pressing against his legs to prevent him from kicking. “Pity,” he mutters, “I never took you for a pervert and a liar.”

The air leaves Jimin’s lungs all too soon when Jungkook tightens his grip on his throat, crushing his windpipes without so much as an expression on his face. Jimin claws at his arm as he wheezes, and Jungkook doesn’t react in the slightest; he looks psychopathic. “Yes,” he finally croaks, “I did.”

He coughs the moment Jungkook removes his hands from him. He bends on his knees as he catches his breath, and the deadly man waits patiently. “You did what?”

“I-I… I jacked off to it,” he swallows audibly.

“Jacked off to what? Your sex life doesn’t interest me.”

“I jacked off to the video of you fingering… her.” Jimin is once again reminded of how cruel Jungkook is, and all he wants is for you to realize that before it’s too late. But he isn’t any better when he is admitting the truth of his wrongful actions.

“Christ…” he trails and shakes his head. He’s feigning disgust, but it works in making Jimin feel worse. “I bet you’d pay to watch it live.”

“Jungkook, please,” he begs hoarsely, his throat dry and scratchy from the suffocation, “stop this. You don’t even love her.”

“Jimin,” he says monotonously, “count yourself lucky that I don’t have any scissors on me, because I’d cut your tongue off right about now. Your voice gives me a headache,” he sighs, “meet me in the lounge at 4.”

You’re worried and twitching on the edge of your seat during your lecture. Conversing with Jimin was awkward, and him telling you Jungkook had lied to you was infuriating, but it shifted to anxiety when Jungkook appeared upset with you. Why do you always do things wrong?

Dwelling on your feelings is not an option when you have to focus on your professor, and you’re overwhelmed with so many things at once. Your exams; Jungkook’s assignments; Jimin’s persistence are all taking a toll on you. You don’t hesitate to escape reality when your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Jungkook and your heart fills with relief as you open it under the desk. It reads:

come straight to the lounge after your lecture.

He’s been interacting with you outside of academical topics, and it feels like you’ve hit a milestone. It’s progress at its finest! He’s waiting for you. Time passes too slow for you, and you eagerly take notes to distract yourself; it works, and you’re out of the hall in a rush.

Students are packing up their belongings just as you stride into the lounge. Jungkook is sitting at the far back, and you almost miss his figure. He’s scrolling through his phone when you reach him and your shallow breaths make him look up. 

“Hi,” you breathe and place your sling bag on the coffee table. The room is spacious and the couches are wide and comfortable. You sit down next to him, your leg touching his spread one.

“Hey baby,” he greets with a smile. You internally scream at the rare pet name, unaware that he’s intentionally riling you up. “How was your lecture?”

“It was good! I missed you so much,” you lean into him, “I didn’t upset you earlier, did I?”

“Of course not, princess. I missed you too,” he palms your cheek before pecking the tip of your nose. “Oh, and Jimin will be joining us today.”

You don’t get to relish in Jungkook’s affection long before your eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“I spoke to him earlier today, and well…” he sighs guiltily, “He told me he would leak your video if you don’t give him a handjob. And I agreed on my terms.”

Your lips part as hatred consumes you. Jungkook knows you would do it, and he knows you’ll hold a grudge. And Jimin… well, he’ll definitely have this experience to keep him satisfied for a while.

Said man stands before the both of you timidly. You’re still in shock when you avert your gaze to him. Jungkook is unexpectedly friendly as he stands up and says, “Jimin! Take a seat.” Jimin sits in his former seat wordlessly as Jungkook plops on the loveseat across. “I don’t think we should drag this out longer than it needs to be.” He juts his chin at you, “Start.”

Jimin is perplexed when you hide your face from him as you unbuckle his belt. “Wh-What are you doing?” he asks, but doesn’t stop you.

Before you can respond, Jungkook says, “She knows.” You and Jimin have two different interpretations of his words, and he is baffled by your reaction to it. You’re going to pleasure him because of what he did? Or is this all an attempt at cutting his dick off?

Your upper body covers your actions from any outsiders, but Jimin is worried he won’t be able to stay quiet when your hand massages his crotch over his briefs. It’s a wet dream come true, really, as he involuntarily inches closer to you. Jungkook leans his cheek on his palm as he watches you in boredom. “Take it out,” he instructs you. You don’t glance at Jimin as you push down his underwear and wrap your hand around his erection. He’s not fully erect because he’s still confused, but the more you stroke him, the harder it grows. “You like it?”

Jimin is conflicted between responding and ignoring, but his noises are the only answer Jungkook needs. He is suppressing moans with gasps, shuddering in his seat because your hand feels so soft and you look so pretty and shy. When you pick up your head to gaze at him questioningly, he replies, “Y-Yes.” 

He is entranced by your doe eyes but Jungkook breaks the building tension by mocking, “You look like you want to kiss her. Calm yourself.”

There’s a brief pause before you ask, “Would it make you… cum faster?”

Jungkook leans his elbows on his knees in interest, a smirk plastered on his face at the power dynamic: both of you are playing along to his strings, two puppets under his control. It makes him curious to see how far you’re willing to go before he’s completely rid of Jimin. The only reason he’s allowing this to happen is because of how pathetic Jimin looks now, and how he’ll be utterly crushed when you never speak to him again. It’s a bittersweet parting memory.

“Um…” he hesitates, but thinks if you decided to give him a handjob, a kiss wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. “Yes?”

You inch your face closer to his, and the both of you look like middle schoolers with how slow your lips eventually meet. It’s a sloppy and amateur kiss with Jimin whining into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your lips recklessly. He’s lost in the pleasure, and it’s clear to you that he’s never done anything like this before. Your thumb grazes the tip of his stiff length, and he begins to twitch under you. You use your other hand to pump his girth, your lips awkwardly pressing against his plump ones.

“Spit in his mouth.”

You abruptly pull away to gawk at Jungkook, but he only raises a brow intimidatingly, as if daring you to defy him. “Open,” you demand Jimin. His eyes are hazy, and he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s drunk on your touch as he parts his glistening lips and slightly sticks out his tongue. You spit on it and he flicks his tongue out to collect all of it, swallowing with a deep rumble resounding from his chest. He’s enjoying this far too much.

You don’t notice him cum with a thrust in the air when you kiss him, but as it begins to coat your fingers, you look down to see his oozing leak. It’s not spurting, and you’re grateful for it when you scoot away from him. He’s panting with his head thrown back on the couch headrest. 

Jungkook breaks his silence by cooing to you, “Are you okay, baby?” You nod with a pout, head turned away from Jimin. You’re waiting for Jungkook’s cue to leave so you can speak your mind. “You can go now.”

Without skipping a beat, you seethe, “Fuck you, Jimin. Don’t talk to me ever again or else I will report you to the dean. I hate you, and I hope to never see you again.” You make your grand departure right after, and the man sputters incoherently in confusion.

“What did I do…?”

“Now, Jimin, you heard the girl,” he grins and clasps his hands, “she may take pity on you, but I won’t. One word from you to her, and you’re fucked.”

“If you’re so jealous, why would you let her do that to me?”

He merely shrugs. “Who is she waiting for after giving you a handjob?” he stands up and towers over the seated man who is fumbling with his belt. “I was being nice to you before she completely cut contact with you. You’re welcome by the way.”

As he exits the lounge, he scoffs to himself, “Jealous. What a joke.”

He has no reason to be jealous, because when he's outside, you're shuffling on your feet with your hands held behind your back with a bright smile as you turn to look at him.

"There's my girl," he affirms with a lopsided grin.

It shouldn't feel so reassuring when you reply, "Always yours." And as long as you are, you should be content with only having him in your life.

Because he's never going to catch you talking to another boy again, even if it's his former best friend.

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •3•

I hope this ain't getting shitty. Thank you for reading, sexy people. Send me a message or an ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

warnings: hungover jaehyun, age gap, hospitals, nothing too extreme.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato @painted-hills

~

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” He groaned, all the memories from the past night hitting him like a truck. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

His eyelids finally fluttered open, frown softening at the sight of you in a messy bun and your cute pajamas.

“How come you look so fresh?” The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in the span of a few hours. Thank God he didn't have to work that day.

“I always look fresh.” You seemed to be more comfortable around him. Perhaps it was because you had to tuck him in last night. “Up.”

You tugged both of his limp hands, forcing him to sit up.

“What did you cook? It smells nice.” He scrunched up his nose like a little kid.

“Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Fast as lightning, he got up from bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed the blanket hanging from the edge of your sofa. Disappointment pinched his heart.

“Why didn't you sleep with me? You would've been more comfortable.”

You set two plates on the small table, pulling the pan out of the stove to serve them.

“You spread yourself all over the bed as soon as I laid you down.” You lied successfully. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t that comfortable yet.

You let the pan down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat in front of him.

“Do you still want to visit my father?” Sparkling orbs stared at him timidly, fearing his answer would be negative.

“I mean…” You hummed, trying not to give it as much importance. “I do want to go!” He quickly corrected himself, frantically shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don't want to meet your father like this.” He pointed at his bed hair, which had only become messier since he woke up.

“You’re acting like he's gonna see you.” There was a slight bitterness in your tone, along with a fake grin.

“Alright, let's do this instead...” Yoonoh sat up straight, clearing his throat as if he were about to give a speech. “We’ll have breakfast, you'll shower quickly, and then we’ll drive to my house so I can fix myself. How does that sound?”

“So I'm finally gonna see your mansion? How exciting.” You kicked his leg teasingly under the table, his cheeks inevitably dipping as he tried to suppress a smile. “I bet you have some peacocks in your backyard.”

“And there's also a dolphin in my pool.” He let out a hearty laugh, extending his arm over the table to grab your hand.

His house was most definitely not what you expected.

It was about the size of the one you grew up in, the decoration inside minimalistic. There were no expensive paintings framed with pure gold, only pictures of him and his family. There was a small backyard you could access through the French door in the kitchen. Half of it was occupied by a greenhouse.

“I had to donate the peacocks to the zoo.” He whispered as you looked through the glass door, squeezing your shoulders with his slim fingers.

“What a shame.” Hesitantly, he wrapped both of his limbs around your torso, letting his chin rest stop of your head. Your heartbeat was thumping loudly against your chest. Yoonoh surely felt it but decided not to comment on it.

“There’s a Tv in my room in case you want to watch something while I shower.” A hint of mischief adorned his honey-like voice. “Or you can come in and watch me instead.”

“Stop!” Your elbow connected with his ribs out of pure panic, making him bend in pain with his hands covering the injured spot.

“It was a joke...” He whispered, teeth gritting together.

I made him mad, you thought. Should you escape or face the consequences of his anger? All thoughts erased from your mind as he grabbed your calves, lifting you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with closed fists, unable to see the expression on his face. “Yoonoh!”

He went up the stairs, proceeding to enter his room and throw you on his bed. Thousands of dirty scenarios crossed your mind before he threw himself on top of you, crushing your bones under his muscular body.

“My...ribs...”

“Oh, sorry, what is that?” To make matters worse, his fingers tickled your sides, provoking a fit of desperate giggles to escape your mouth. “I’m not hearing an apology.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands finally stopped, giving you time to breathe. Nonetheless, he remained laid on your chest, using his forearms to lift his weight. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“I like you.”

The confession was so sudden, so raw it took you some time to finally react. But you had no words to give him an answer, instead, you combed your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp while waiting for him to speak up again.

“I never thought I'd be feeling more than friendly affection for you. Our agreement doesn't include love, after all. But I've started feeling like a teenager all over again. I can't help but get excited whenever you call me. Do you know how sweet your voice sounds through the phone?” He sighed, discouraged at your lack of response. “I guess you're not there yet.”

Instead of verbally answering, you planted a sweet kiss on his head, right where small, grey hairs had started growing.

“I’m not good with words.”

“That’s alright.” He snuck his hands under your back, holding you tightly as a sudden need to nurture you took over him. The mature image he had of you faded in less than a second, leaving behind a young, troubled woman. “I’ll shower quickly so we can go see your pops. I bet we’ll get along just fine, maybe even go golfing when he wakes up.”

“I forgot you're almost the same age. Creepy.” He smiled, though uneasiness started steering in his guts.

“Does that bother you?” He asked without giving it a second thought.

“I don't know yet.”

(...)

The man with high cheekbones and bruised skin laid limp on the hospital bed. Yoonoh had been working on his case for about a month, yet, it only started feeling real the moment he entered the room.

“This is my dad.” All emotions had escaped your eyes as if your soul wasn't there anymore. Only an empty shell.

“You look so much like him.” he was afraid touching you wouldn't be the right thing to do, so instead, he said: “He seems like a suitable golf buddy.”

Tension finally loosened its grip around his body as you snorted, pigment returning to your cheeks. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“He will wake up, y/n.”

“He’s taking his sweet time.” You glanced back at the laying figure, skinnier with every day he spent asleep. “I want someone to pay for taking away the last person that loved me.”

The last person that loved you. Would Yoonoh be able to fill that spot? Not yet, probably. He couldn't modify the depth of his feelings, but he could surely give you the vengeance you longed.

“Do you trust me?” With your eyes still glued to your father, you nodded. “Then I can assure you we’ll win the case.”

“I know we will.”

He sat silently with you, holding your hand without saying a word. The smell of alcohol and the beeping noise of machines made him nauseous. He hated hospitals. You noticed the change in his demeanor, his hand becoming cold while holding yours with strength.

“Do you wanna go?”

“No!” He smiled through the pain, scooting his chair closer to lay your hand on his lap.

He wouldn't agree to get his ass off the plastic chair. You had to tell him you were hungry for him to finally stand up, still clutching your hand like your father did when you were still a kid. His parental behavior caused several emotions to stir inside your guts, so mixed up you couldn't quite put a finger on any of them.

“What do you want to eat?” The tension finally left his body once out of the building.

“Soup.” You smiled while swiping your thumb on top of his knuckles. “I know a place, but to be honest, it isn't good. So we can go to the store and get the ingredients to- but you can't cook.”

“I’m up for a cooking lesson if you are.” He wanted to see your pretty smile again. Maybe making a fool of himself would help. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Wow, so cool.”

“I know.”

(...)

“Can you grab that can of chicken broth?” You pointed at the high shelf, letting go of Yoonoh’s hand to allow him to move freely

“I have a better idea.” He dragged you by the arm so you were standing in front of him, trapped between his body and the shelf. “I’ll lift you so you can reach it.” Matching his words, his hands grasped your waist, ready to carry you.

“Stop!” You slapped his hands repeatedly between giggles. Ignoring your complaints, he started lifting you. “Yoonoh!”

“Yoonoh?” A feminine voice had him placing you back on your feet in less than a second.

“Seryeong, I didn't expect to see you here.” His hands remained seated on the curve of your waist.

“Neither did I. I was surprised when Sungchan told me you'd left early yesterday.” She seemed a bit older than you but still younger than the man behind you.

“I had some matters to take care of.” She eyed you from head to toes with a smug grin plastered on her lips. Just by the look of her clothes, you could tell she was as wealthy as Yoonoh. You feared the scene would turn into a tv worthy drama.

“I’ll go get the chicken breast.” You tried escaping his grip, only to be pulled closer to his warmth.

“No need to. It's already inside the cart.”

Why am I so dumb?

“Does your father know about your little girlfriend?” She asked without hesitation.

“I guess.”

“And why didn't he tell me anything?” She cocked an eyebrow, his hands finally loosening around your body and allowing you to move from your position.

“Look, this is something you should talk about with him. Now, if you excuse us...” With a hand on your shoulder, he began pushing the cart to the next aisle, the chicken broth long forgotten.

“Is this some kind of arranged marriage situation?”

“Something like that.” His hands were tense while holding the cart, knuckles turning white from the strength used. “Before you start asking, I'm not really in the mood and I don't want to direct my bad mood toward you. Let's talk about something else, alright?”

Who was that woman that had the power to turn him into a literal raging ball of fire with just a few words?

[scuttling]

Animals

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,766 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Insecure reader, Crushes, Some very public secret touching, Fingering, Pool sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Based on this prompt from anon: "Reader in a red skimpy bikini at one of rossi’s pool parties trying to get hotch to loosen up….what happens when she gets a little too close when they’re swimming in the pool?" I uh 🥵 Link to A03 or read below! Going to Rossi’s for dinner as a team has to be one of your favorite things in life. There is always good food, good drink, teasing and grinning and laughter; you all get to decompress, destress, enjoy each other’s company as people and not because someone’s life depends on it.

You get to see Hotch as a person, too, and that’s kind of the best part. He’s the one who needs to relax and unwind more than anyone, so when he’s there with you all, casually dressed, softer, and quick to smile, it’s no wonder you… feel things.

You’re not an animal. You can feel things without acting on those feelings; you are more than your instincts. So what if you get butterflies in your stomach when he offers to pour you more wine? So what if your breathing picks up when he’s so close you can feel his breath on your neck? So what if you end these nights at home, alone in your bed, wishing he was beside you, inside you? He’s still off limits.

Your body’s reactions to him are normal, chemical, biological, and pointless, because he could be standing half naked in front of you and you would still be able to control yourself. You are a brain that happens to be in a body, not a body that happens to have a brain.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when Rossi invites everyone over, not for dinner, but an evening pool party.

A pool party. Fuck.

You are one hundred percent apprehensive, but for two different reasons. One is that you are a little self-conscious, and you prefer jeans and t-shirts over any other clothing; wearing a swimsuit in front of your coworkers seems extremely daunting. The other reason is that seeing Hotch in his swimsuit might actually be more terrifying, because you talk a big game about being able to control yourself, but if presented with his hot body, dripping wet, maybe his hair slicked back, a drop of water on his nose...

You take a deep breath, blow it out slowly. You’re just going to tell them you feel sick and can’t make it. Probably no one will care anyway.

You’re just gathering your things to leave work for the weekend, preparing to smile sadly and tell your lie, when Hotch appears at your side, his bag slung over his shoulder. He’s leaving work on time for once; it’s a freaking miracle.

“You’re coming to Rossi’s, right?” he asks softly, and you get those goddamn butterflies. You smile, not sadly.

“Yeah, definitely. I need to go home and get my swimsuit, though. I think I have one... somewhere.” It’s been a while since you had a vacation; wherever it is, you hope it still fits. He swallows, nods.

“Right, of course. I’ll see you there, then.” He brushes a hand carefully over your shoulder and passes you, heads for the door. You take another deep breath.

You are not an animal.

Right?

You arrive at Rossi’s house last, because you spent so long looking in the mirror, trying to convince yourself to just accept the way the swimsuit fits.

The only one you could find was from college, a little red string bikini, and since your body is obviously different now, it’s a little too small. You’re mostly covered, though, except for your ass, and no one is going to be paying much attention anyway. These people are like your brothers and sisters—or in Rossi’s case, your fun uncle—with the exception of Hotch, but you know he’s not going to be looking.

You walk into the backyard in your coverup, a cute black and white tunic, and everyone is swimming but JJ and Hotch. JJ is standing off to the side, phone at her ear, and Hotch is sitting on a lounge chair, not lounging at all. His spine looks rigid, but you can’t imagine why.

“Beer, my dear?” Rossi calls, holding up his own Corona. “Over by Hotch.” You smile and head toward him, bending to reach into the cooler for a drink; he looks a little more comfortable when he sees you, and says hello. You reply, then lift the bottom of your tunic to try to twist off the bottle cap, to no avail.

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching for your bottle, and he wraps his t-shirt around it, pops it open and hands it back.

“Thanks.” You take a long sip, your head tilted back; after all the self-scrutiny, you feel like you earned this one. “Why aren’t you swimming?”

“I will; didn’t feel like it yet,” he says, looking up at you, and you put a hand on your hip.

“Only you would come to a pool party and not swim, Hotch. Live a little.” You take another long sip, if you can call it that—the bottle is half empty already—and then set it down on the table, pull your tunic over your head. Might as well undress where fewer people are paying attention. “Come on,” you say, reaching out a hand. “I will if you will.”

He looks you over like he thinks you’re crazy or something, staring at you for a long moment, and then nods, lets you pull him up to standing. He tugs his shirt off too, and you do your best not to stare, because he is even hotter than you’d imagined, his chest broad and strong, arms strong too, and there’s a trail of hair disappearing beneath his swim trunks that you would like to explore with your mouth. You take a calming breath, turn to head for the edge of the pool, and he follows behind you; Derek looks up and whistles, and you feel yourself flush hot.

“Okay, Baywatch,” he calls with a grin, “come toward me again, but this time run in slow motion.” You roll your eyes and remind yourself not to try to cover up. If he sees you nervous, it’s just going to get that much worse.

“Shut up. It’s the only one I had,” you reply, and you look back at Hotch, who’s just standing there behind you and not saying anything. It’s like he’s afraid to get too close to the pool, or something; no way a big bad FBI guy is scared of water, right?

You get in the pool, and it feels blissfully good on this 80+ degree day, even though the sun is down; you dunk your head just to get it over with, before someone does it for you, and when you come up, you hum happily and rub your wet hair back out of your face.

You look at Hotch, who is sitting on the edge with his feet in the pool. It’s a total cop out, and you swim over to him and carefully put your hands on his legs beneath the water. He looks down at you seriously and doesn’t move.

“Come on, all the way in. For me.” He wets his lips, and you’re about 80% sure he’s going to ignore you, so you just let go of his legs and back away; he absolutely surprises you by dropping into the water with a splash. He goes under, pops up and shakes his wet hair, droplets clinging to his shoulders. You laugh out loud and give him a shove, glad, again, that you’d chosen to submerge yourself already.

“Are you happy now?” he asks, voice dry, but with a playful smile, and you nod and smile as well. Yes, you’re happy, maybe a little happier than you should be: you can feel that your nipples are hard beneath the thin material of the bikini top. Your stupid body is sending signals, and you’re entering the danger zone, your brain and body fighting for dominance; your stupid body may be winning.

Do not engage, your brain repeats when you look at wet Hotch, a sight to behold, all big and drippy and firm; your body whispers in your ear like the devil on your shoulder, just go for it—he will feel really good—what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yes,” is all you say, moving closer to him even though there’s a warning bell going off in your brain. Do not engage!! “All I wanted was for you to loosen up a little, to relax.” You’re less than a foot from him, and no one is paying either of you any attention, busy playing with an inflatable beach ball or singing along to the radio or drifting around on a lounge float. You two might as well be the only people in the world, or at least that’s how it feels.

“I’m… loose,” he says, his voice low and rough, and something about it makes you feel less inhibited, like maybe it’s not just you who wants this; your hand brushes his waist, and then his hand brushes your hip, and then you lean closer and your leg brushes…

Very loose indeed, if loose equals horny, because that’s definitely not a gun in his trunks and he’s definitely happy to see you.

“Sorry,” you breathe, but you don’t feel sorry. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and you brush him more purposefully this time: your thigh against his bulging cock.

Do not engage!!

“Don’t be,” he replies eventually, and then it’s your hand moving of its own accord, palming him, big and hard. He closes his eyes, wets his lips. You want to bite his throat, to lick it, to get your hand down his shorts and feel him; you’re about to do that, your fingers slipping past the elastic, his breath hitching, and then the beach ball smacks down in the water right beside the two of you and you jump apart, startled.

“Sorry!” Emily calls, and Hotch bats the ball back over to them, and then you just look at each other. Was that a close call you never mention again, or…?

Now or never, your body says. He was about to let you put your hand in his pants. Try it again.

You are not an animal.

You try it again.

This time, you make it past the waistband, and you wrap your fingers around his dick. It’s thick, and hot, and smooth, and he reaches out a hand to grip your waist hard, his eyes boring into yours. You wet your lips, move your fingers to the head, rub it, and then you stroke him three times just to see what he looks like when you do.

He’s gorgeous, unsurprisingly, his eyes lidded and his chest heaving, and you rub him softly one more time and then withdraw your hand; apparently you’re cool with groping your boss in the same pool as the rest of your coworkers, but an actual orgasm is where you draw the line.

You are also breathing heavy, so turned on you’re almost shaking with need, and then Hotch reaches down and slides his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, rubs the pads of two fingers along your slit. It takes everything you have not to moan at his touch, especially when he dips lower, prods at your opening where you are already slick. He takes a deep breath, and it looks like he’s fighting for strength too, which makes you feel a little better.

At least you’re both animals, now.

He pulls back only to get his hand on your ass, to squeeze it so hard your body shifts forward. You look up at him, and he looks down at you, and everything that needs to be said is said with your eyes.

You drift apart a little bit, but you still feel the ghost of his touch and maybe always will.

You float around, and talk a little; you get out to finish your beer, to grab you both another, and now that you know he’s into you, you maybe make climbing out look a little sexy. When you ease back in, hand him his bottle, he makes eye contact while he wraps his lips around it and takes a long drink.

Eventually, the others interact with the two of you, and it feels so strange to pretend that you and Hotch didn’t just fucking fondle each other fifteen feet away. It also feels really dirty, and that only serves to make you wetter. The glances he’s shooting you don’t help that situation much, either.

Garcia and Emily are the first to leave, and then Reid, until the only ones left are the two of you, Derek, and JJ. JJ says goodbye, heads out, and then Derek gets ready to leave. Rossi says he’ll walk him out, that he’s going to turn in, but that you and Hotch are welcome to stay as long as you like, and to just please lock the front door when you go.

“Couldn’t get you to get in, now can’t get you to get out,” Derek teases Hotch; you preen a little, because you know you’re the cause of both, and when Derek and Rossi leave, the air becomes thick with tension again. You open your mouth but don’t know what to say.

It’s Hotch who actually speaks first.

“I’ve thought about doing that for a very long time,” he murmurs, and you move closer to him, get your hands on his waist again. “You are so fucking beautiful, all the time, but in that bikini… were you just trying to tempt me?” he asks, a sincere question, and you shake your head.

“It’s really the only one I own. I got it in college, so it’s a little small now,” you explain, and he chuckles, soft and low.

“Well then, I guess I’m glad you don’t swim much, because you’re absolutely breathtaking. I was having a very hard time keeping my hands off of you, so I’m glad that you… initiated.” He puts his hands on your ass, pulls you closer, and you wrap your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck.

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember, you’re so fucking perfect.” You bring a hand to his wet hair and guide him down for a deep, steamy kiss, rubbing against his hard-on and moaning softly, since you can, now. “I want you, Hotch.”

“I need you,” he says, and that’s so much hotter; you reach between you to push down his shorts, taking him in your hand and stroking him again while he holds you up, and then you ease your bottoms to the side and guide him inside you, moaning and tipping your head back when he presses in. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, and you cling to him, kiss him harder, and move in his arms.

“Oh, god, Hotch,” you breathe against his lips, working your hips against his thrusts. “You feel so good, so big and hard and good.” He groans, buries his face in your neck, and pumps up into you roughly, like he’s getting close already.

God, this is amazing, pure fucking, the outcome of being up to your eyeballs in sexual tension—you’re connecting the dots now, seeing how some things you thought were innocent between the two of you were absolutely not—and when he comes he pounds hard inside you, and you dig your nails into his neck and bounce on him until he groans and slides out, sensitive.

“Oh, wow,” he exhales, and then he turns so you’re up against the wall of the pool and lets you go, holding out his hands so you know to stay there. You stretch your arms out on either side of you, breathing hard, and he leans in, moves your top out of the way and sucks on a nipple, then reaches down and pushes your bottoms aside again, presses his fingers deep and fucks you with them.

“Hotch, oh, fuck.” He looks up at you through dark lashes, nips at your breast, and then lifts his mouth off and begs you to come until you do, practically strangling his fingers as you clench tight around him.

He pulls his hand away after getting you through it, fixes your suit and then his, and then pulls you back into his arms and kisses you for a long time, full of yearning and passion and satisfaction. You sigh against his mouth, touch his face, and offer for him to spend the night at your place.

He does, and you have sex on the kitchen counter, and in your bed, and then on the floor the next morning.

You animals. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce

[jxsatlas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 1

keith kogane x gn! reader – next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14," Lance announces, "Begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission."

He shoves the yoke forward and the aircraft takes a steep dive. You plant your feet to help fight against the inertia. You give him a sharp glare as the aircraft steadies out.

"Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk whines from the back.

You look over your shoulder and recognise the nauseated expression on his face all too well. Last semester, there was a girl on your team that didn't do too well with excessive motion and often got sick.

Lance brushes him off. "Relax Hunk, I'm just getting a feel for the stick," he says with a lazy grin, which quickly turns mischievous. "It's not like I did this, or this!" Lance jerks the aircraft side to side, making Hunk feel worse.

"Knock it off, Lance," you warn from your chair next to him. You reach up above you and press a few buttons in hopes of stabilising the aircraft out after Lance's little joke.

"Yeah, listen to [y/n] unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing," Hunk groans angrily.

"We've picked up a distress signal!" Pidge says from his seat in the back.

"Alright, time to quit our bickering and get serious," you say, doing your own little thing to accommodate for the lower altitude while Lance flies the aircraft.

"Pidge, track the coordinates," Lance says with a roll of his eyes at your comment.

Pidge does so, typing away on the computer. The aircraft gives a large rumble and Hunk groans again.

"Knock it off, Lance! Please!" he whines, his face all scrunched up in discomfort.

"Oh, that's on you buddy," Lance says sharply. "We got a hydraulic stabiliser out."

Hunk nods and goes to fix it, but when the aircraft shakes again he gags. "Oh no."

"Oh no, fix now, puke later," Lance growls.

So much bickering... you think to yourself with a sigh.

"I lost contact!" Pidge says. "The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

Lance looks over his shoulder at Hunk. "Come on, dude!"

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and unfastens his safety belt. He carefully gets up and makes his way over to the gearbox to see what's up.

"Coordinates are back," you say, seeing the blue dot on the dash.

"Nevermind Hunk," Lance says.

"No, he still needs to fix it," you say. "We can't properly fly this thing if a hydraulic stabiliser is out."

"Whatever," Lance rolls his eyes, "Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't think that's advisable, given our current mechanical..." Pidge warns, trailing off when he hears Hunk gag again. "...and gastrointestinal issues..."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, not before quickly emptying his stomach into the gearbox with the unsavoury sounds of food chunks and liquid hitting the metal. You cringe, not liking the sound, and hope he's okay.

"Stop worrying," Lance says dismissively.

"No, they're right," you say firmly as you place your attention on Lance now. "We should wait before we do anything."

"Nah, this baby can take it! Can't ya champ?" Lance coos and pats the dash. The aircraft rumbles again and he retracts his hand with a sheepish look. "See? She was nodding!"

"That wasn't nodding Lance," you deadpan. "Now listen to us and wait."

"I'm the one flying this thing, aren't I?" Lance asks. "So I'm in charge, and that means what I say goes!"

"Excuse you, we're both flying this thing," you argue.

Ignoring you, Lance turns to Pidge. "Pidge, hail down on them and let them know their ride is here," he says.

Knowing that you're now doomed, you keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable failure of the simulation. You can already see it, the big, bold, red letters appearing on the dash.

And when Lance flies towards an overhang, tilting the plane as much as he can in a sad attempt to thread through the little hole rather than going over or around, you know this is where you fail.

Lance doesn't make it. The wing gets torn off, the alarms blare, and the aircraft pummels to the ground. The dash goes black and those red letters you were anticipating appear without hesitation.

Simulation Failed.

The first failure on your school record.

You toss your head back and sharply exhale, frustration building up in you. "Nice going," you grumble and look at Lance through the corner of your eye.

He catches your gaze and glares at you. "Oh, shut up," he growls.

The four of you sit in silence for a second, you and Lance glaring at each other, before an instructor opens the door and beckons you to come out.

Reluctantly, you all unfasten your safety belts and crawl out of the aircraft. You then mentally prepare yourselves for the lecture about how you are all failures to come.

You, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge line up before the Commander, avoiding his scowling gaze.

"Let's see if we can't use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you," Commander Iverson's voice booms angrily. He's not at all impressed with your behaviour. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made during the simulator?"

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox!" a boy from the back of the group of students shouts out. Iverson nods and turns to Hunk.

"Yes. Everyone knows vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems," Iverson sharply criticises Hunk. He turns back to the students. "What else?"

"The comms-spec removed his safety harness," a girl points out.

"The pilot crashed!" another shouts.

Iverson nods, approving of all the answers given. "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other," he growls and turns to the four of you once more.

You keep your gaze on the ground shamefully.

"The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers," Iverson lectures. His hands are on his hips as he looks down at you. "But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what caused the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

In your peripherals, you notice Pidge clench his fists at his sides and scrunch his nose up in anger. You fully turn your head to him when he takes a bold step towards the Commander.

"That's not true, sir!" he barks.

Iverson looks at him and glares. "What was that, young man?" he growls.

Lance quickly slaps a hand over Pidge's mouth and pulls him back in line. "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head when he fell!" he says, smiling sheepishly in a sad attempt to cover up his fear. His hand gets tighter over Pidge's mouth, almost as if he's asking the ginger what the hell is wrong with him.

With Lance speaking up, Iverson's attention is now pinpointed on him. He takes a few steps closer to Lance, his intimidating figure making your brother cower back a bit.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here," he growls, his tone of voice menacing and powerful, "is because the best pilot in your class had a disciplinary issue and flunked out."

Lance drops his gaze down to the floor, a look of dejection taking over his face.

"Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns. He stares Lance down a bit before abruptly turning to you. "And you!" he barks.

Your entire body freezes up and your eyes wearily follow him as he stops in front of you now. Your heart sinks down to your gut.

"I expected better of you."

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You returned to your dorm at the end of the day with a cloud over your head.

You grumble about the day's events as you aggressively tug your shirt over your head. You really wish you could pinpoint the source of your frustration. Are you mad at my brother? Your team? Or yourself?

You toss your clothes on the floor and pull out some track shorts and a hoodie from your dresser. Getting dressed in your pajamas for the rest of the night, you try to sort out your emotions.

"Stop mumbling to yourself," your roommate says from her bed.

You turn to her. "Ah, sorry," you say. "I didn't realise I was talking out loud..."

"If you're that mad at your brother why don't you just punch him?" she asks. You blink, surprised she actually heard you.

"I'm not violent like you," you say with a sigh. "Besides, I don't even know if I'm mad at him specifically."

"Eh, I would punch him either way," your roommate shrugs. "It's a good way to alleviate your stress."

You roll your eyes. "I alleviate my stress by sleeping."

Your roommate laughs. "Ain't that the truth?" she jests. "How many times have you taken a nap between classes this week?"

You stare at her with a blank expression for a moment before picking your clothes up and off of the ground. "I'm not answering that," you say and toss them into the hamper.

You and your roommate pause when there's a knock on the door. You look at her and she looks at you.

She raises her hands up. "And I'm not answering that," she says.

You roll your eyes and grab one of the dirty articles of clothing you tossed into the hamper and throw at her without any remorse. She yelps in fear and disgust as you walk to the door with a smirk on your face.

"Don't throw your nasty underwear at me!" she barks and she pinches the panties between her thumb and index finger, tossing them as far away from her as possible.

You cackle and open the door. Your laughter cuts short when you're suddenly face to face with your brother. Hunk stands behind him.

"What are you doing in the girls' dorm?" you ask, but then take the opportunity you just created for yourself to tease your dear elder brother. You think of it as a bit of revenge for crashing the simulator. "Visiting someone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Heh, I wish," he sighs. "But no. We're thinking about hitting the town tonight! You know, for some team bonding?"

"Who is it?" your roommate calls to you.

"Lance and Hunk," you say over your shoulder at her.

"Punch him!" she shouts back.

"No!" you hiss and turn back to your brother.

"I don't like your roommate," Lance comments under his breath.

"Neither do I," you joke.

"I heard that!" your roommate barks.

"No you didn't!" you ready. But getting the feeling that she's going to keep interrupting, you push Lance out of your way and step into the hall with him and Hunk. You then close the door and give the boys your full attention.

"So, you're gonna come with us?" Lance asks.

"I don't know," you say with uncertainty in your tone. You cross your arms. "It's past curfew and I don't really think you have off-campus privileges..."

"That doesn't matter," Lance waves his hand dismissively. "Iverson wants us to bond as a team, so why don't we listen to him for once?"

"I'm not feeling that adventurous," you say.

"What? Why not? It'll be fun!" Lance cajoles.

"Lance, your idea of fun always ends up with you and me in the principal's office," Hunk reminds. "Don't drag your little sibling into it."

"Hunk has a point," you say. "I don't want to get in trouble again. I had my filling for today."

"Since when were you a goodie-two-shoes?" Lance asks in a somewhat offended tone.

"Since I got a scholarship here?" you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?" Lance says as he gives you a look of utter betrayal, as if you were some alien.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not too keen on losing something like that because I went along with your dumb shenanigans," you sigh.

"Please, the max punishment for something like this is just a weekend detention with old man Brechin," Lance says and a mischievous grin spreads on his face. "That is, if you get caught."

You bite your lip, looking away in thought. Team bonding sounds very appealing after what happened today, but are you willing to risk your scholarship? You don't know if you can lose it because of a simple detention. The Galaxy Garrison is a government program, which means they are pretty strict.

"Do you really need to think about it?" Lance asks with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

His words irk you immensely.

You snap your gaze up to him. Is he serious? You aren't scared. Why would you be scared of sneaking out?

You silently walk back into your dorm and quickly throw a bra on, some socks, and your shoes.

"Where are you going?" your roommate asks as she watches you scramble about the room with a sense of purpose all of a sudden.

"Team bonding," you say, now tying the laces of your shoes.

"This late? Are you sure?" she asks.

"All common sense in me left the moment Lance basically called me a scaredy-cat," you say bluntly.

"Well, have fun," your roommate says.

You give her a small salute as you walk out of the dorm. "I'll be back by morning."

"Alright, see ya!"

You close the door and turn to Lance and Hunk expectantly. "Well?"

Lance gives you a cocky grin, proud of his persuasion skills. You suddenly consider your roommate's suggestion for a second.

"We need to go grab Pidge," Lance says. "It won't be team bonding if someone's missing. You gotta have everybody."

You shrug, doubting Pidge will join.

Lance takes the liberty of leading the way to the boys' dorm, you and Hunk following closely behind. You expertly dodge the officers patrolling the halls making sure students are in their dorms like ninjas on a stealth mission.

As Lance rounds a corner, he suddenly stops and back peddles quickly. He peeks around the corner and watches whatever is on the other side. Curious, you and Hunk sneak up close to Lance and peek as well.

Pidge steps out of his room, a backpack swung over his shoulders. He checks his surroundings before closing the door and running off.

You, Lance, and Hunk share a look. You all then telepathically agree to follow the small boy. Once again, Lance takes the lead.