#ugh i need to sit down in a dark room and just drown

[thanatoseyes]

Me: so afraid of my own psyche that I don't take any drug other than caffeine and alcohol.

Internet/Acquaintances: You should try it at least once.

[cokoweee]

So I wrote it. And it came out a lot longer than I thought it would be. So here’s the first part.

There was a gentle lilt of music echoing through the halls. Which was odd considering he could have sworn his was off, and no one ever played music loud enough for others to hear it. He made no move to find the source, instead finding a strange tranquility in the song that was playing. It was too muffled for him to pick out the words, but the melody was comforting. Something he would have put on one of his own playlists. The tune drifted around him blanketing him in a strange melodic peace. There was a pause in his bliss as he slowly began to realize that his mind was bathed in sweet blessed silence. He froze, too scared to move-a pathetic fear of alerting the voices that he wasn’t currently drowning in self hatred griping his chest. He simply laid there and let the sound wash over him.

~

She was going to murder someone if she messed the stupid lip stain up again. Her reflection stared blankly at her, a red smudge just below her lower lip practically mocking her as she moved to grab the makeup remover. She scrubbed her lips raw with the remover softly swearing under her breath. The stain was still there. Maybe not as noticeable, but still there. It was meant to be a relaxing self care night, but she couldn’t seem to get anything to go right. Ugh. Whatever it wasn’t like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

She grabbed her phone and switched the current playlist (which was bathing the room in the sweet melody of Hozier) one of her favorite artists, to white girl music. Ah yes. Just the way to set the mood.

Reaching under the counter she had recently claimed as hers she grabbed a face mask. ( It wasn’t like Othello was going to use it. He was physically incapable of basic hygiene) Climbing on top of the counter to sit inches away from the mirror she carefully applied the mask. Rihanna blared in the background as she stared for just moment at her reflection, dark eye bags and dull hair, she sighed and grabbed her hair mask and under eye patches as well. At this point she just needed a fresh start.

She ran her fingers across her scalp working the mask through her hair, which she needed to touch up soon, and tied it into a simple bun on the top of her head. Just as she was reaching for her eye patches, a shadow caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

~

She was… sitting on his bathroom counter covered in something green. She stared at him, he stared back.

Say something! It’s rude to stare! STOP STARING AND SAY SOMETHING YOU IDOT! She’s going to think you’re crazy.

“Turn that off” he grumbled nodding his head toward her speaker.

Great going! Perfect thing to say! Wow that’ll make her feel awesome Don bon!

She made no move to change her playlist, instead quirking an eyebrow up,

“No.” She spat. “I’m having a moment. To myself. Right now. Which you are ruining.” She gestured angrily. “Leave before I get Cas to beat you up or something”

“Why” he said stupidly

“Everyone deserves to have a little moment to themselves” she mumbled shrugging.

Not everyone. Not you. Spa days are to spend with your lovely lovely twin. Who is gone.

He really didn’t need to be reminded. Donatello didn’t deserve to enjoy something that was meant to be shared with his twin. How could he enjoy pampering himself without his twin there making snarky remarks and gossiping about his latest adventure with some new yoki boy ?

And he was still just sitting there staring at her. Great.

Do something! Go back to your room and drink enough to forget this interaction even happened! LEAVE.

She was still staring at him, clearly determined to beat what she thought was a battle of wits, before deflating a bit and motioning to the floor beneath her. He dumbly sank down on the floor facing her, his body moving in autopilot. She grabbed one of her hair ties and tied his hair into a neat little bun on the top of his head before grabbing a bottle of… something. His eyes warily followed her actions.

She looked down from her perch atop the counter and tilted his chin up slightly, holding it there as she slathered something cold onto his face.

Pretty. Soft hands. Feels nice.

Getting pampered without me?

He pulled away. Nope. He couldn’t do it.

She frowned

“What? Too worried about your bad boy reputation to let me put a face mask on?”

He jerked his head no. But the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“You don’t need to do this.” He mumbles, actively avoiding her gaze.

She sucked in a quick angry breath before grabbing his face forcing him to look at her.

“You literally let me live in your house for free, the least I can do is spare some of my self care stuff.” she scoffed.

Ok yeah sure, that was true, but all he did was sit and drink. Or listen to music. Or stare into nothing. He had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no reason to indulge himself in self care. Why should he be able to care about himself while he could no longer care for his brothers and his brothers could no longer care for him? He couldn’t bring himself to find joy in something they too had loved. It was easier to condemn himself to a life of suffering and misery, so he could somehow equal himself to his family. They were buried under dirt, while he was lucky enough to only be buried in guilt.

He started to pick himself up off the floor but was quickly pushed back down.

“Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere.”

She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to sit again, taking his face a little more roughly this time, and slathering the mask around his face, taking extra care around his eyes, before removing his bun and replacing it with some clips she had materialized from who knows where, and turning him toward the wall, running her hands through his hair. She gently pulled some of the larger tangles apart with her hands as he stayed still, allowing her to work. He worked on not grabbing her hand off of his head every time she tugged a little too hard and slammed his whole head against the counter. He really doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Especially considering the full force of his entire family fighting for attention from him, their voices echoing against his skull.

“Stay here “she threatened, suddenly jumping off the counter and running out of the bathroom to grab something else he didn’t really didn’t deserve. She had barely made it into the hall before she shoved an unlocked phone into his hands, open to her personal playlists.

“You can choose whatever”

End of part one. idk how many parts there are I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Ok I’m gonna go touch grass now.

THEY LET ME POST IT AAAUURTGGGG

this’ll be linked in the master posts I hope u know

Part 2

[justjasminne]

frank castle x therapist!reader please babygirl 🖤

Frank castle x therapist!reader

Warnings: smut, mdni, cream pie. Not proofread.

It's been about 2 months that you've been seeing one of your clients. He's lost his wife and kid and you've been helping him move on and find peace.

He was due for an appointment any minute before you heard a car pull into your office drive way. You opened the door and he had a seat on the couch. You sat on a chair infront of him with nothing but a coffee table with some books and decorations in between you.

"How have things been, Frank?" You asked clicking your pen ready to write. "All good, just work, sleep, repeat." He said. Sitting back. "Have you met anyone that's made an impact on your life since the first time I've seen you?" You ask standing up and walking over to your desk. "Yeah, you." He said, his eyes following your every move. "Yeah? I'm glad" you smiled. "Here's a journal for you, Frank," you said pulling a small book out of your drawer. "I need you to write your feelings in th-" you got cut off. When you turned around you saw Frank standing infront of you. His dark brown eyes drowning in yours.

You knew what you both wanted. You leaned in and cupped his face in your palms, his arms wrapping around you waist as his lips brushed against yours. He cleared your desk of all papers, just enough room for you to sit on. He parted your legs as he started to unzip your jeans. You eagerly pulled them down. His fingers started working at your thirsty clit. You moaned at the sudden pleasure before thinking. What the fuck are you doing? You pushed Frank away and pulled your pants back up. You wanted him so bad but you knew this wasn't right. "C'mon baby, let me make you feel good, okay?" Frank said as he stepped closer to you. "This is morally wrong, Frank." You said, avoiding eye contact. When you looked up at him, you were reminded of who you were rejecting. His broad shoulders, large biceps and almost everything else about him turned you on. "Ugh make it quick" you said taking your clothes off again. He pulled his jeans off before signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist. You felt his cock rub against your entrance, making you even more wet. You suddenly felt him deep inside you, pounding hardly as he hit all the right places. He let out a groan, you could tell he was close. You moaned with every thrust, bringing him closer to his climax, and you closer to yours. He left a few marks on your neck, which you only saw when you opened your eyes and saw your reflection in his eyes. "So gorgeous, so needy, so wet all for me, huh?" He whispered. You nodded your head. He let out a huge groan as you felt his waist get weak. "Cum, cum for me baby" he whimpered into you neck and you felt his warm fluids fill you up. You screamed his name as you finished causing him to let out a satisfied chuckle.

He let you onto ground, carefully helping you get dressed before he did. You cleared you throat. "So uhm... that concludes this session... i-uh I need you to write you feelings in this everyday for a month.." you tried to sound professional but you were lost in your thoughts.

"Yes ma'am"

♥️not proofread♥️

@versatilehater

[fushipurro]

Braving the Storm

☆ Synopsis: A stormy night after a long day of work and now the power's out. As if things couldn't get worse, your hot stranger of a neighbor shows up at your door and you end up inviting him in.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, some fluff, smut, foreplay (nipple, fingering), pet names, creampie, dom/sub, jjk au

☆ Word Count: 1.8k

Of all the days for your work to keep you late, it had to be the night when a big storm was booming overhead, rain pouring down on you as you made your way home as quickly as you could to the shelter of your small apartment complex. Upon arriving at your front door, you sighed, stopping to take a quick breath and squeeze the water out of your clothes as best as you could. Each time the thunder boomed, it sent a shiver down your spine, with a small yelp each time from you as fear trickled from within.

Finally inside, you thought the worst might be behind you. After all, you were finally freed from work and could take the time to relax, cook a meal, and drown out the storm with some netflix before bed. That is well, until the power went out before you even got your shoes off.

"Ugh, you have got to be KIDDING me." Before continuing with anything else, you stumbled around in the dark, pulling out candle after candle, hoping to illuminate what you could. Nothing better than a childish fear of storms than having to be stuck in the dark just waiting for lightning to shine and keep you on edge until the crack of thunder shakes your core.

As you lit the final candle, your living room sparked with light from the storm outside, and before the heavens had a chance to get a good scare on you, the knocking at the front door did just that.

"Really, at this hour?" you hissed with annoyance, heading over to the door. After all, you hadn't even had a chance to sit down let alone change out of your drenched clothes that were making you shiver. Upon opening the door, you're met by the sheer statue of your next-door neighbor who you hardly see. A man with raven hair and a mysterious scar over his lip, each part of his body lined with muscles and bulging veins. He too seemed like he had been soaked, but not from the rain as he was wearing only a robe. "Oh, it's just you, Toji. Do you know what time it is?"

The man gazed down at you, but not at your eyes. No, instead they were locked with the top of your white blouse that was very much transparent now after being out in the storm. You soon realized and tried to cover yourself with your blazer, while still obviously shivering a bit. "Do you need something, Toji?" you said hastily.

"Power went out before my laundry could finish, was wondering if you had any spare towels but..." he looked you over from top to bottom with eyes that were almost too invasive for your liking. "Doesn't seem like you do either with how soaked you are." Toji answered with his deep resounding voice. His voice was one thing you liked about him as it tickled your ears in ways no other voice has. That is, aside from the nights he's busy with other women until the crack of dawn and messing with your schedule.

"Oh you just want a towel, come inside out of the rain, I'll bring you a fresh set."

"Thanks, y/n"

You headed to your bathroom to grab a set of towels, stopping at the mirror to realize how much Toji could really see of you which of course made you turn red with anger and embarrassment. Returning to him, you proceeded to hand him the towels when suddenly a pop of thunder shook your house and caused your hands to drop the towels on the floor in an effort to cover your ears from the noise with a frightful yelp.

Toji's eyes widened as he stood unfazed and staring at your reaction. "You scared of storms?"

"Yeah... I know it's childish but I could never shake it."

Toji closed the distance between the two of you and moved his hand to your cheek in order to push some wet hair back behind your ears. His eyes staring through yours as it just made you blush even more.

"I know of one way to help get your mind off the storms, and it'd finally get you out of those clothes turnin' you blue" he purred at the same time he gave you a lustful grin. Dumbfounded and still blushing, you couldn't bring yourself to try and protest as the continuous waves of thunder just drew you closer to Toji until he had his arms wrapped around you. The way his warmth invited you in until you were looking at him with his lips near yours with little room to breathe and his emerald eyes conveying a hunger only you could satiate.

He began moving into you with his body and mouth until you reached your couch together, falling onto it while he gracefully swooped down next to you with his arm around your back to keep you from falling backwards more than you already were. Finally you had a moment to catch your breath as he moved his lips down to your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting until you were bruised in several spots. One by one, he unbuttoned your shirt until he could fling it across the room, unhooking your bra and leaving his right hand to move up your thigh under your skirt. Toji's other hand cupped your freed breast, his thumb circling your bud with a few pinches here and there.

"Toji.." you let a soft moan escape from your throat. Against your leg, you could feel the sensation of his member pressing and throbbing. Oh how you didn't expect that they could be that large even while hard. What Toji doesn't know yet is that this is your first time, and what a way to lose your pureness than with your hot experienced neighbor with a manhood thicker than your own arm.

"That's right, doll, keep moaning for me." his deep voice huffing as he swirled around your apex until you were soaked enough to start pushing his first finger in.

"Oh- fuck!" you moaned out, squirming at his touch and digging your nails into his back. He continued until he could add more and more digits inside, knowing exactly where to find your g-spot.

"You're so fucking tight, sweetheart, don't tell me this is your first time?" Toji stared into your eyes with an expression you couldn't read but he continued to pump you with his fingers and holding the back of your head to face his. Your heart was in your throat, what if you say yes? Would this unexpected but enjoyable night come to an end? While you've dated before, you never got as close to someone as you are now with the stranger from next-door.

"Ye-yeah, is that a problem?" you said blushing between moans. You could feel a sensation of euphoria you've never felt rising in your, tickling your body until he quickly retracted his fingers, denying you from climaxing.

His narrow gaze turned to one of joy and almost sadistic pleasure as he smiled and retracted from you to begin pulling his sweatpants down. As soon as he did, he revealed his sheer girth befitting of his size with a glint of wetness coming from the tip that began swirling around the tip.

"Not at all, doll. I'll make sure you feel every inch of what you got yourself into for letting me inside with you."

Toji began to lean down over you, one arm next to your face and the other guiding the tip of his length to your lower lips until he could circle around your clit teasing your reaction as all you could do was mentally prepare yourself for what it could possibly feel like. But oh how you didn't expect the initial pain as he slowly pushed his way inside of you. You couldn't help but squirm and clench your nails into your palms as Toji continued to look down at you with a hungry smile, clearly enjoying the show you were giving him for your first time.

"That's a good girl, you'll get better the more we do this as you become a perfect fit to mine."

A perfect fit? And he thinks this is going to happen more than once? How could it not though, you never knew something like this or someone like him could make you feel such ecstasy and all these sounds you never knew you could make as he quickened his pace going deeper and deeper into your depths. It was almost unbearable how good Toji was making you feel and not to mention he lifted your legs back and could hit your prime, going faster and faster. The sense of euphoria returning as you could feel him throbbing more and more inside of you.

"Oh I'm gonna fucking cum- be a good girl and take it. I promise you'll be begging for more after this." He sneered, hardly containing himself from moaning. This kind of power play was obviously a turn on, every bit of this man outsized you and the sense that he was a protector to you in light of the raging storm just boosted that ego more.

"Fuck! Toji! Please!" you squirmed and writhed as his grip tightened over your thighs and butt, leaning back and gripping the couch to the point you thought you tore a hole open.

"Keep looking at me, doll." he said, moving one of his hands to the back of your head so he could see his expression when he finally pumped his seed inside of you as hit that euphoric taste you almost got to earlier. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, squeezing with everything you have along with your insides. This only released more from Toji until he pulled back out with a trail of white stickiness following that he carefully admired. He leaned down to kiss your exhausted self and brush your hair back like he did earlier in the evening. "That's a good girl, don't think for a second I'm through with you yet, but I'll let you catch your breath."

Toji helped to clean you up as your legs were aching and weak, barely able to stand on your own without needing to lean on him. At that point the power came back on, making you realize that he was right and you indeed forgot about the storm beneath the sounds of moaning and flesh. He never ended up leaving that night as that first taste of love led to several more encounters until the sun peaked over the horizon. Another thing Toji was right about as you couldn't get enough of him and neither could he of you.

Overtime the sounds of other women coming from his side of the wall faded and instead, those fateful nights were spent in your apartment pleasure seeking or simply cozying up to one another to block out the sounds of the world and troubles of the day to day. Toji had become your everything and you became his, forever.

☆ Notes: first fic i've written in years, a little short and self indulgent but the toji brainrot is real...

[voidselfshipp]

Zealous

Cw: jealousy,mentions of a meltdown. Hurt/comfort.

Summary:samamel makes a joke that gets the Lady of secrets a little riled up.

>only mutuals allowed to reblog.

A/n: the meltdown part is just War being accomodating to my neurodiverse self. Its just mentioned,not actually depicted.

Jerico and War stood at the Scalding Gallows,Talking to samael after killing the Griever. Above them rained Fire and brimstone,crashing distantly with a low rumble.

The rider speaks,but he hadnt paid any attention until the topic of Uriel came up. That Pesky angel lady thought the horseman was to blame for the death of Abbadon.

--I thought horsemen were above such..earthly pursuits --Samael said,a smirk on his face.

Jerico doesnt hesitate,charging their double blades and throwing them Centimiters away from one of the horns of the demon-- Watch your mouth, wretch.

War chuckled,amused--He is a zealous thing,demon. Even I dont dare invoke his wrath.

--Of course..--Grumbled the lord of blackstone Keep. --Apologies,Lady of secrets.

The human settled behind the horseman lacing one of their arms around his and nuzzling his bicep with a glare filled with anger towards samael.

Soon theyre sent to kill the stygian, the wretched spider being that lurks near the dry road. Off they go not a moment later,galloping away on the Lady's horse "Traveler".

Hooves clap and clock against the broken pavement leaving the prison of the demon soon after.

--I much preffered you would have cut one of his horns in half...--The horseman commented,unbothered to ride as a passenger on the Mare. Its just an excuse to hug his beloved from behind like hes doing now.

--I Will if he starts talking mad shit again--Jerico grumbled,gripping the fine chains that made the reigns.

At that,his nephilim companion chuckled--For what is worth,know my heart is yours and yours alone.

His anger melts,the softness of the rider always effective at calming him. He smiles and adds--Thanks....--He leaned back against the horseman's broad frame--Can we go back to the drowned pass after this? I hate seeing this world so...broken.

--Of course,my sun-- always so attentive at his partners needs,he nuzzled the top of their head discreetly-- i cannot imagine the pain this must cause you

--It was my home once...in a sense it still is

Above them it still rained brimstone and Fire,up until they reach a wide tunnel made of broken piping and rock. The galloping of Traveler echo Gently and the red rider murmured--Why dont you rest? I Will wake you if anything happens.

Jerico let out a huffy sigh--I hate the apocalypse--He leaned further against the Man,closing His eyes--its just...ugh!

War stops the horse,looking down at his girl. He scoops them up and brings them close so their chest pressed against his,he hid their face within the crook of his neck and the sides of their peripherial view with his long platinum hair and red hood.

The darkness feels nice,they Sigh and feel cozy against him. Their crow wings extend and form a coccoon around them, bringing them even more comfort.

Hes spent centuries around the Lady,hes learnt to know how to calm them when they near a meltdown. He doesnt mind helping them,he understandw that this whole situation is very distressing for him.

--I know we're sitting ducks...--They whispered,nuzzling his neck.

--Ill find you a place to rest, dont worry

Eventually they do find a spot to rest,its a control panel sideroom near the blocked entrance to the place theyre supposed to go to. War makes quick work of what pests rest in the area and guides his beloved to the small sideroom.

Jerico steps in,instantly finding a corner to summon this small tent-Like structure hes been using to rest throughout the journey. The outside looks small but within it the place is quite big,it looks a lot like his room in The Dark Fortress at the icy veil- their home. Its low lit and the perfect spot for a comfort nap.

War crawls in and of course he knows what to do, he cuddles within the cozy bed-sleeping bag at the center of the room thats pressed up against one of the walls. He hugs hugs his lover and pulls the covers over them both.

The air smells sweet and homey, warm and safe like the Lady's actual home felt. The rider tugs his lover closer,seeing how theyre falling asleep quite fast. He chuckled,endeared and kisses his forehead.

--Rest...--the horseman whispered,seeing the outline of his girl thanks to the low Burning,arcane torch light. --Ill take care of you,do not worry.

Such softness displayed from the bringer of pain....

Jerico smiled,drowsy and just on the verge of sleep--Thank you...red--His voice is barely a murmur, and he nuzzled closer under the semi darkness. Only the riders white eyes gleamed through the gloom,and it Will be a lovely sight to wake up to when he feels better.

For now though,they rest. Together.

[chvnnie]

HELLO I'm back on my horny agenda bestie<3 Christopher. Fucking. Bang. that's it. jk I found THIS on twt and my brain immediately malfunctioned. AND THE WAY THAT IT'S ACTUALLY CHAN oml just imagine riding him while he's all stressed from songwriting. letting you totally spoil him and do all the work until his brain is just 😵‍💫😵‍💫. I need in my life ugh

you caught me on a sub chan day so. i hope this is all you wanted it to be l o l

SMUT BELOW THE CUT - MINORS DNI

the problem with a small apartment is that you can hear everything.

so when you hear a thud against the wall of chan’s home office, it didn’t take long to connect the dots. he had a deadline, he had been in their for hours. you’re honestly surprised you didn’t hear an “outburst” earlier.

sock clad feet padded against the hardwood, the soft noise drowned out by the heavy bass coming from the room. when your fingers touched the door knob, it was vibrating, no doubt from the volume of the music. not wanting to scare him by slipping in unannounced, you knocked on the door. “channie?”

a frustrated “huh?” was grunted over the music, and you took that as an okay to entered. what you saw made your heart sink; chan in his favorite black hoodie, elbows propped up on the table and his head hanging in his sweater paws. you saw his shoulders shake a bit, dark curls out of control from him constantly running his fingers through them. he was reaching a breaking point.

you grabbed the back of his chair, gently rolling him out from the desk. “my love.” you softly whisper, watching as his arms dropped and let his head hang sadly. moving between the desk and him, you slipped into his lap, arms wrapping around his shoulders. chan immediately melts under your touch, heavy head burying itself on your shoulders. you pet down the curls, trying to get them under control. “when’s the last time you took a break?”

he sighed, and you knew you weren’t going to like his answer. “i haven’t.”

you hum, not wanting to scold him when he’s this fragile. “baby you can’t go nonstop like this. it’s not good. you’ll burn out.”

chan rolls his head on your shoulder so he can look up at you. his large eyes scream exhausted, eyebrows furrowed sadly. “but i have to get this done. work needs-“

“work can wait.” your hands move to his face, cupping it to hold it upright. “your sanity is more important.”

you’re right - he knows it, even if he hates hearing it. “‘m just really frustrated, and stressed. nothing sounds…right.”

while having a hard time believing it, you understood. he’s been living in this rhythm today, obsessively tweaking the track and the lyrics to the point where it seems like nothing he does is working. he needs to step back from it, needs to take mental break.

“do you want me to listen to the track? or do you want me to try to help?”

his hands rest on your waist, twirling your top in his hands. “just need a distraction.” he whispers, eyes fixated on your lips.

there’s no need to ask what he wants. it’s obvious from his stare to the semi he’s sporting under his cotton shorts. still, it wouldn’t be fair of you to take advantage of him in this state, so you ask for clarification. “what kind of distraction? do you want to take a walk? do you need a snack? or do you want me to take care of my baby boy?”

he whimpers, nuzzling into the hands still holding his face. “need you.” grinding up, you’re now aware of how hard he’s gotten just in the passing seconds.

and you’re always ready to take care of him.

it escalates slowly. starting with sweet kisses, letting his lazily taste you while you rub him outside of his shorts. then it moves to shedding hoodies and shirts, bare chests pressed together and chan swears that feeling your skin against his is all the stress relief he needs. soon, bottoms are shed, and his head is rolled back against the desk chair as you slowly sink onto his length.

you sit still for a moment, eyes shut with a smile on your face as you adjust to his girth. his nails are digging into your hips, bottom lip pulled in as he savors the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. your eyes flutter open, taking in the sight before you. chan always looks so handsome, but like this, he’s so ethereal. so pretty and delicate, needing to love and be loved by you.

“i love you.” you whisper, lifting your hips up before slowly sinking back down. chan whimpers, moans high pitched and borderline whiny as you set the pace. leaning forward, you kiss his jaw, praises spilling from your lips. “you look so pretty like this, honey. my sweet, pillow prince, always letting me take care of him.”

he nods, releasing his bottom lip. “love you.” when he lifts his head, you can see his eyes watering just a bit. “i love you so much-“

you shush him, placing a peck to his lips as you pick up the tempo slowly. “i know.” he chases your lips, begging for another kiss, and there’s nothing you want more than to indulge him in all his wants. it’s not long before you feel his cock twitching, his breaths increasing as he reaches the edge. “baby boy need to cum?”

he can barely speak, nodding aggressively as a string of incoherent begs fall from his lips. and that’s the last thing you want - for him to beg for something he’s always allowed to have.

“fill me up, channie. show me how good i made you feel.”

i am…broken.

[toweroftickles]

DUNE: The Skin We Shed

(Paul x F! Reader Tickle Fic)

Requested by @scentedkittenperfection and far too late.

So, I’ve never done an xReader fic before. Or anything POV, for that matter. I’m a little concerned that it’s too over-the-top and comes across as silly. Sorry. Gave it my best shot.

Arrakis' sky is on fire. When the sun touches the horizon, everything is scorched a deep, haunting orange glow.

The great and heavy slab doorway of the Arrakeen palace groans as it slides open, scattering dust and sand to the floor below. Crystalline flecks of spice stab at the corners of your eyes, and the howling evening wind tears at your stillsuit until the antechamber door crashes down behind you, the rest of your guard troop...and Paul.

Paul Atreides. Son of the empire. You'd been casual friends with him for a while, since you started working in the house on Caladan, but he never noticed you as much as you noticed him.

Every time...every single time you travel together and head back to the guard dormitories, you end up staring at him, and it makes you want to smack yourself. Ugh....It's that stupid, dumb, hot (no! stop it!) thing he does where he pushes that wavy dark hair out of his eyes. Two weeks spent in his personal guard haven't made it better. If you don't stop, he's gonna notice you!

You're all packed together in the narrow stone halls among the sweat and the chatter and the leftover adrenaline cloud of a spice contact high. Takes forever for everyone to clear out of the common area and head to the suit containment lockers. Finally, you're all alone.

It's a circular room with a central sitting area, furnished with few brutalist chairs whose sharp right angles are barely helped by their fabric outer layers. The walls seemingly stretch to the interstellar roads high above, where the shadows swallow the ceiling and the glowglobes' skittish warmth can't reach them.

You unhook the moisture regulator from your nostrils and cough out the few drops of vapor left in the back of your throat. You hear the clicking of polished shoes behind you, and suddenly, there in the doorway is Paul, dressed for the evening and eating an apple.

"Oh, hey. I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" he asks. You're surprised, but remain stone-facedly blasé.

"Good evening, my lord. You're looking well. Spice harvesting is finally on track for the season."

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Paul?" As he says it, you smirk back, knowingly.

For someone of regal stature, he's always been surprisingly personable. Aloof, certainly, but not rude or dismissive. If you lived on Earth in the 21st century and understood what exactly a "movie" was, you'd have thought he was like an old film star.

"Who knows; after a few more tries I might get a handle on it."

Oh, come on...not again. The damn stillsuit is always so hard to take off. And now he’s watching you…of course. The primary water reservoir, encased in a leathery pouch over the stomach, strains as you yank on the harness around your waist.

Paul chuckles. "Do you need some help?"

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you blurt out. Is he making fun of you? Does he just think it's kind of funny? No, stop thinking so hard about it. You keep yanking harder and harder but it just seems like the suit is getting tighter.

Wait...he's beside you. What's he doing?

“Here. Create some space…between your skin and the suit. You have to form a pocket that you can move a part of you around in,” Paul mutters. His hand glides into a slit between your waist and your hip…and your heart stops.

The Atreides heir’s fingers are spindly and pale…those of a cloistered rich kid who’s never felt an axe or saw wear down his hands. Mere seconds before, the water rushing down the tubes inside your second skin, from your neck to your feet, had felt cool and refreshing. But now that sensation is being drowned out in the rushing of your own blood, pumping at full speed up into your throbbing ears, staining your cheeks a bright red. Your face is hotter than the desert air outside.

No…no no no, he’s touching you…oh my god he’s touching you…

It's not just embarrassment. Every millisecond of grazing along your abdomen is killing you.

Fingers gliding across your skin...

You're shivering and squeaking...

All you want to do is beg him, plead with him not to touch you there...anything but that...

"D'AAAAAHH Haha!"

A loud shriek rockets its way up through your throat and bursts out of you. Your whole body contracts like an accordion and leaps away, beyond your control, from the gorgeous young prince.

Time is frozen. So are you. You can feel your heartbeat in your eyeballs. But just as you're considering stealing a bagful of spice, hopping a flight out to Geidi Prime and changing your identity to a mustachioed lobster farmer named Stephanie, Paul runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head and laughs awkwardly. His eyes are averting yours.

"Heh. I didn't know you were that ticklish," Paul breaks the tension. Without another thought he plops himself down on a nearby couch, his off-white shirt melting into its identical fabric.

How can he be so casual during all this?!

"It's, um...it...I've gotta...go. Excuse me, my lord..." The sentence sprays out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you...here...let me make it up to you..." A wave of his hand. Beckoning you.

"No, that's...fine. Thank you."

"What, are you afraid I'm gonna tickle you again? Ha ha..." (That’s exactly what he’s gonna do, isn’t it?)

"Really my lord thank-you-for-your-assistance-butIcanhandlethismyself…” (Which staring eye makes you feel more queasy...Paul's, or the floating glowglobe nearby?)

"Hey come on, come back." // “I really need to - ” // “Please - ” // “It’s getting la- ”

Suddenly, Paul's voice rings out again...but it's different. The House heir speaks softly, yet the sound still thunders like the roar of a tiger.

"Come back."

Vvvvvmmmmmm.

Something is wrong. His voice reverberates in your temples long after the words have passed. Everything is dizzy and clouded. You feel a thumping tremor in your legs...they can't move. Why can't they move?!

Wait...there they go........back….toward him.

…What the…?!

It doesn't even feel like you're walking. It's more like strings are hooked into your thigh muscles and pulling you forward, puppeteering an uncomfortable shell that you're trapped inside.

Paul's eyebrow arches upward...he looks bemused...like he's surprised by your movement. He touches the corner of his mouth, uncertain. What did he do?! Was it on purpose?! Before you have time to think, you're already on the couch beside him, leaning back, as if in anticipation. Every tick of the clock, you can feel your chest heaving in and out as your breath gets heavier. Your lungs are full of water.

And then he reaches into your suit again.

Finding another pocket and pressing it outward, Paul yanks at your shoulders, and it’s punctuated with a low zipping noise. The ruffling leathery layers of the stillsuit scrape against your arms, dropping away like the skin of a snake. To your slight embarrassment, beneath the armor you’re clad only in a form-fitting tank top, tightly knitted for modesty only. Hanging down around your waist, the flayed-off suit torso forms a kind of morbid skirt. You feel like a half-peeled banana with blazing cheeks.

The twinkling eye of a desert rogue dissolves onto Paul's face. His mocking smirk teases you with coming calamity.

"N-no...no!" you squeal, grabbing defensively at a woven Bene Gesserit throw blanket nearby. But you know already it's too late.

Black silken netting smothers you. You're wrapped up in the sofa, pinned like a matador underneath a bull, with terrible fingers prodding and poking and squeezing every inch of your belly. No matter how much you struggle, or squirm, or scream with laughter, you can't escape...it's like each of your most deathly ticklish spots is bounding with eager joy right into this boy’s spidery hands.

Shit, he's smiling that stupid cocky smile at you - !

"HA-HA HA-Ha Haha! *heave* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! St-st-ha...sta...pleahee...!!" you wail. The words are stuck inside your throat...they won't come out. Your stomach hurts too much from how hard you're laughing…

…and then it stops.

"Heh-Heh Heh...you really need to relax. You keep your guard up on the job, not when you’re with friends, right?" You can't see through your tightly-clenched eyelids, but he teasingly pats your shoulder and you can hear him stand to leave, abandoning you there with your limbs retreated and both hands covering your face.

You chat for a few more moments, but the words just fade into vacant humming. You might as well be deaf for all it matters. All you can do is squeak and nod in affirmation, until Paul wishes you a good evening and steps out of the soldier barracks. It all happens so fast...but maybe you’re just counting every second until he finally gets out.

Your colleagues gradually file back into the room, completely ignorant as to what's just happened. Whatever stupid subject these meatheaded guards are droning about, it doesn't register with you.

Why would Paul do that?! Does he just like messing with people? What if he knows how his presence twists up your insides? Oh, you knew this was going to happen; why can't you hide your glances from him?! Or, more terrifyingly...was he flirting? Exactly how much are you overthinking this?

Whew. Oh god…Relax...relax.

The thoughts rattle around in your skull long after you retreat into your room. Your pulse still hasn't slowed down. Even spice itself can't create this kind of nervous tingle in you.

....damn it, you're going to bed.

[astralwaifu]

omg i liked your writing so much!!!! if it's not a problem,could you do the same with shiggy but the reader has a nullifying quirk so shigaraki's quirk doesn't work on her/them and they hug at the end? have a nice day!!!

Ithank you so much moots!!!! I am really happy you enjoyed it! (Also sorry it took so much to answer your ask, I've had quite a lot of exams recently, but it's over now and I nailed them - like 90%)

Also check the Dabi one right here!

Shigaraki with a nullifying quirk! Reader - platonic

genre: fluff, angst and sum crack

wc: 1.1k

warnings: language probably

a/n: ngl, I teared up a lil while writing. I love Shigaraki sm and this request was literal heaven. I just enjoy writing that crusty ass. Requests-open!(I also want to try doing song fics, so ask ahead)

"Who upset you?" you hear his coarse voice ask.

You looked up at the blue haired male who was towering over where you sat on the floor curled in a ball of sorrow and pity. Glass like tears were falling down your hot cheeks.

"Who?" he harshly repeated.

"Dabi."

Shigaraki stomped away, rushing to the bar, you following quietly behind him. He took such big steps, that it almost seemed like he was flying to the room.

A burning feeling filled his chest as he approached the said man that made you cry. No warning, no reaction time from the others, Tomura grabbed the bar stool that Dabi was sitting on, pressing strongly with all 5 fingers on it. The dark haired man fell loudly on the floor hitting himself when he lost his balance.

He was now looking with a confused, outraged look in his wide bright blue eyes at Shigaraki, while sitting in a big, nice pile of dust.

The room fell quiet.

"The next time you decide to be a dick, better think twice" Shigaraki barked through his gritted teeth, then rushed to his room slamming the door behind him.

Everyone was shocked, you mostly. Your tears were now dry and you felt the need to laugh at the scene : Dabi with his ass full of dust sitting on the floor, a broken glass of liquor to his right, screeching "WHAT THE FU - "

later

Shigaraki was lost in thought, not even paying attention to his game anymore. What was the heavy burden on his chest right now? Why did it last this long?

You were playing next to him on the console, trying to pas the level. The tip of your tongue was resting between your open lips, completing the look of concentration on your face. "Can you focus? I don't want to loose because of you, idiot"

Why did it pain him so much to see you suffering, drowning in sorrow? Why did watching you cry make him want to decay this entire world?

"If anyone's the idiot here, it's you. You don't even play it right!" he scowled.

"Ugh, shut up, you look like a rabid dog"

Rabid dog? He would usually dust anyone trying to speak to him like that...But not you. He found it funny when you insulted him, only making him want to backtalk. Such a familiar feeling...almost like a....

"At least I don't have half a brain like you, brat" he commented with a smug smile. "What was that earlier? The whole Dabi thing...Don't get me wrong, I just want to know why I dusted a perfectly fine chair"

You looked at him briefly with wide glassy eyes before turning your stare to the screen. Cold, blue light was shining on your profile.

"He said I was useless to the league... I couldn't fight with my quirk, or help them in anything and I... I know that's not true but-" you looked timidly at the bewildered man, waiting for his reaction "-it still gets to me..."

"...sister?" When Kurogiri suggested this, Shigaraki denied it with every bone and fiber in his body. Why would he see you as a sister? You were just another lost brat, that somehow entered the League and...and stayed by him. Not by the organization's goals and ideals, but by him. And he found himself equally invested in your presence, always looking after and protecting you. Hell, even inviting you to play videogames with him!

Shigaraki didn't need a family, or that is what he told himself all his miserable, little life. Or was he told that? He has his sensei, Kurogiri, an army of Nomus ready to destroy everything at his command. Why would he need someone to genuinely care about him?

"That's not true and you know that" his shaky voice sputtered. "Damn, y/n, I hope you are joking right now, how can you even think about yourself like that?!" he was angry now. "You must be demented to ever say that kind of shit about yourself. You are not worthless, I'm telling you and this is coming from the LEADER of the League, not some crispy man with a questionably, weird, purple skin! My god, let's see that Dabi fucker nullify someone's quirk next time, huh?!'

He pushed the buttons on his controller so hard, his character died, the words "LEVEL FAILED" appearing red and bold on the screen. Shigaraki's breath was sharp and fast.

When he looked at you, tears were falling from your eyes. He panicked, what did he say, did he make you cry?

As his anxiety hit him, you launched forward to him, wrapping your arms around his lanky torso so strongly, like you were afraid he'll run away from your touch.

He did considered that for a brief moment, scared that he will accidentally hurt you.

He knew how dangerous his hands were, how much pain and sorrow they caused, how much lives they've taken... Still you weren't letting go.

Slowly he rested his hands on your back, still shacking from fear.

Then he melted. He completely melted into your embrace, holding you even tighter that you did, resting his head into the crook of your neck. Tomura felt the tears forming in his eyes.

Who would care for a demon, for a monster like him without expecting anything in return? Who would willingly become family for a cruel, lost man like him?

"Thank you, Tomura. Thank you" you whispered against his soft, blue locks. "Thank you for caring for me, I-" you choked on your own sobbs. "I never... never had a family to look after me like this and... and you...you just...are that familiy"

You. You would care for him. And it was also you that made him feel something else besides rage and sorrow.

Tomura was fully crying on your shoulder.

He was vulnerable to the world, to you right now, something he didn't felt for ages, a feeling erased from his memory, yet hidden somewhere far away, where the blurred image of a family still existed.

How could your quirk be useless when it gave him the chance to finally experience the physical affection he had always yearned for?

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likes, shares and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 1 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Most people knew that animals were in tune with the changing seasons: migrations, sensing weather patterns, and the likes. Sometimes, that extended to people with animal-like mutations, too. For some, that meant being able to feel approaching rain. For others, that meant bodily changes in relation to the weather.

Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, when cool air swept over and the trees began to turn gold and orange, and then again in early spring, when the snow began to melt, and the sun shined bright in midday, warming the air.

He owned a cabin in the north, secluded up on a hillside in the woods, where he would honker down for the week-long occurrence. It was much more tolerable alone, far from society, where his sensitive feathers could only pick up the sounds of his abode and the wildlife outside.

The cabin smelt like amber and pine trees. He always kept the fireplace stoked. The crackling created a soothing ambiance and it gave him a worthwhile distraction. As opposed to a traditional heater, the fireplace gave him something to focus on: something to worry over so he couldn't drown in his own thoughts.

Without fail, he would go to bed at the kiss of darkness, usually in a mess of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, on his front with his wings stretched out beside him. Then, he'd wake in the early morning hours and watch the sunrise as if he had never seen it once in his life.

As poetic as it all sounded, it was more so for the sake of soothing his urges than anything else, to calm the animal side of his brain that was irritated at the very obvious thing missing from this.

But, at the same time, Hawks enjoyed it, in some ways. As stressful as a rut was, there was something soothing about the experiences. For a week, he could let go of everything.

In this cabin, he wasn't pro hero Hawks, winged hero, number 2, or anything like that. In this cabin, he was just Takami Keigo, even less than that at times. When lost to his senses, barely processing a proper thought beyond the warmth of the fire and the smell of the trees, he was just a man.

That time was approaching.

He could feel it, prickling at the base of his wings. His teeth were aching subtly with the desire to bite. Every little sound was setting him on edge. He heard your voice down the hall and it made him flinch with a sort of excitement, as if he hadn't heard you in weeks, when it had only been a day.

He already had an acute sense of smell as it was; but, it was intensified during this time. One of the trainees had burnt coffee and it nearly made him throw up. One of the sidekicks was wearing an ordinary cologne that never bothered him before; but, that morning, when he walked by, the smell made him want to punch them.

When he became irritable like that, was when he knew, especially, that time was dwindling and he needed to leave before it apexed.

"I'm heading out in a couple days," Hawks explained hastily when you stepped into his office. "I'll be gone for a week."

His harsh tone made it sound as if you were intruding on him, and he could tell that you noticed because you halted in the doorway. You were, actually, intruding. He had paperwork he needed to get done before he left. But, that wasn't the only reason.

Your presence swarmed him with thoughts; mainly, that he could bring you with him, show you the cabin. Would you like it? Of course, Hawks knew it was a natural desire to have, considering his physiological changes; but, still, the intensity of that desire was nauseating.

"Oh," you blurted, feeling nervous in his heated gaze. You weren't new to that hypnotizing, gold stare; but, it seemed a little different than usual, more intense.

"Uhm. Okay," you continued. "Was it a mission? I didn't see any briefing?"

Hawks blinked and the heated expression dissipated as if you had slapped it off him.

"No," he replied softly. "No," he added on, a little more sincerely. "I'm... going up north for a week."

He wanted to lie to you; really, any sort of bullshit would have sufficed. You had stumbled into this relationship knowing that he couldn't always give you everything, including the truth. But, for some reason, the truth felt right in this moment.

"That's good," you replied, stepping into his office to set some papers on the corner of his desk, adding more to the already impressive pile.

"You could use a vacation," you added on, stepping back, away from his desk.

It was in his nature to be perceptive, both in the way his quirk operated and by the man he chose to be: a hero, a spy, an assassin. Yet, his eyes were watching you with a sort of intensity that felt fiercer than it normally was.

Your sincerity was what bothered him. It would have been easier to blow you off if you were irritated by his secrecy. However, you, who knew better than anyone, what he endured day in and day out, was just happy that he was getting a break from it all: from being a hero.

Most heroes had a life to go home to, a family, a place where they could take off the cape for a little while. Most of the time, Hawks didn't.

He had found some solace in you. You gave him the breaks he so desperately needed; but, it was never long enough, barely a night, before the visor went back on. It wasn't fair to you, a fellow hero, to be expected to carry such a burden; yet, you seemed happy at the thought of making him feel ease, if only for a little while.

"I'm sorry," Hawks apologized.

The startled look on your face told him what you were thinking: that there was nothing to apologize for.

You didn't know about this side of him, this aspect of his mutation. That behavior sometimes seeped through. He'd get a little possessive, touchy, mouthy; but, you passed them off as just kinks. Maybe, they were kinks, and he was just making excuses for himself.

"It's something I gotta take care," he explained, as if he was rejecting something you hadn't even asked.

"Ok?" you replied softly. "Whatever you need to do, Hawks?"

He smiled one of the most pathetic smiles you had ever seen.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head a little, looking down at him, across his desk, to where he sat opposite to where you were standing.

"You don't have to tell me," you continued. "But, you never have to do anything alone, you know?"

"Ugh-" Hawks laughed nervously. "This, I think I do."

You stared back at him with a gentle gaze; yet, he could easily catch the bit of attitude in your eyes, like you wanted to call him out, but was holding back.

Yeah, he knew. He fucking knew. You had been there through some of the hardest battles, dragged him out of burning buildings, took bullets for him.

Your first kiss was in a hospital room.

His broken arm was slung up in a cast and poking painfully into your chest, and the bandages on your neck were itching at his skin. Still, neither complained. Not when you finally, finally had each other. Not when the truth came pouring out and almost a damn year of tension boiled over.

Barely a week had passed since that moment. You didn't give your broken bodies enough time to heal before crawling into bed together. He had made love to you, so softly, with gentle words and careful touches, before flipping you over and ramming you until you saw God, wings flapping and breaking things all over the room.

"It's not a mission, or any hero business," Hawks answered, scratching at his neck nervously.

Now, you were really concerned. 'Hawks' and 'nervous' were not usually uttered in the same sentence. He knew he shouldn't tell you; but, fuck it, he wanted to. It was especially difficult when you were looking at him like that, like you would do anything for him.

"Okay?" you uttered, as if ushering him to continue.

"It's... biological," he answered carefully.

Seemingly catching an unspoken queue, you closed the door to his office and leaned against it, staring at him with a calm, inquisitive gaze.

"My... mutation-" he began, breaking off in a groan.

He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. That nervous look etched across his handsome face, was something of a spectacle, and you had to bite back a smile.

"I go into a rut twice a year," he explained hoarsely. "It's more tolerable somewhere secluded; so, I got a place up north where I tough it out."

Some feral, sick part of his brain wanted you to stupidly ask him what that was, so he could explain the insatiable desire to take you like there was no tomorrow. But, of course, you knew better than that, blinked slowly, and leaned back, a thoughtful look on your face.

"You do that alone every year?" you inquired.

"Huh?" Hawks blurted, not expecting that to be your concern.

"Is it better that way?" added on softly.

Hawks stared back at you with a stupid look on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, unblinking with the faintest tinge of pink coloring the tops of his ears.

Fuck no, it's not. He would love to have you there, to show you the home he's made over the years, to snuggle with you in front of the fireplace, to make you breakfast, to bend you over every god damned surface-

"Probably," he answered.

"Hawks," you scolded him gently.

He laughed quietly and adjusted his posture, trying to sit upright instead of slouching back in his chair. He ended up settling for placing his elbows on his desk.

"It's fine," he said reassuringly, waving his hand around. "It's like a posh camping trip."

"A high-strung posh camping trip," you corrected him softly.

Hawks stared back at you silently, as if he was mad that you saw through him so easily. 'High-strung' was a nice way of putting it. His ruts made him mean, irritable to an irrational degree, carelessly crude, and shamelessly possessive.

"Do you want..." you trailed off.

For all Hawks knew, you were going to say something completely different than what he was thinking; but, the mere thought of what you could offer had him at the edge of his seat.

"Would you want me there?" you asked.

Yes. Holy fucking shit, yes.

But, that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"It's probably not a good idea," he protested softly.

You frowned at him, tilting your head a little, and tightened your arms where they were crossed over your front: a silent gesture telling him that you expected an explanation.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he explained, his normally calm and suave voice lowered. It was clear that this wasn't just caution or worry; this was a warning.

"How would you hurt me?" you dared to ask, voice soft, more so trying to soothe his worries than agitate the beast.

Hawks let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know," he breathed. He looked away, and you watched him drag a hand through his hair, pushing wispy blonde bangs out of his face.

"I get really... worked up," Hawks continued, his warning tone still present. "Pissed off and horny and-... shit. Not like normal. I don't think right: it's consuming."

When he turned back to you, and saw that you still looked relaxed, eager to listen, to understand, Hawks' tense shoulders relaxed a little.

"I don't know what I would do to you, and that scares me," he warned in a low, harsh whisper. "The only thing I know is that, if you come with me, after you enter that cabin, I won't let you leave."

"Okay," you uttered back.

"What?" Hawks gawked. "Fucking hell - you realize what I just said, right?" he asked, clearly irritated at your casual response.

"Of course I do," you retorted sharply, snapping at him a little.

He released a sharp exhale through clenched teeth. "I don't think you fucking do," he growled. "I won't let you leave. I'll take you whenever I want. That's - you know what that is."

The word felt so heavy in his mouth, weighing down on his tongue, like he wanted to spit it out. It tasted awful, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

You, surprisingly, glared at him like he had just insulted you. Maybe he had, in some way. Hawks rarely ever underestimated you; but, this wasn't a battle or heroism. This was raw, animal nature, him and you reduced to instincts.

Through his perspective, it was challenging his humanity, his love for you. But, through your perspective, it was an aspect of his nature, of something he was born with, that he couldn't stop or change; and you wanted to guide him through it, to be there when he needed you, regardless of the feral implications of it all.

"It's not rape if I want you, too," you snarled at him.

The glare he was wearing dissipated in an instant. Hawks gawked at you, stunned at the bold proclamation, his hands slipping limply off the edge of the desk and onto his lap. You watched his wings shutter faintly behind him before relaxing against his back, as if they were resisting the urge to fan out.

"You don't have to do it alone," you began softly.

"You don't-"

"Let me finish," you interrupted him gently.

Hawks obeyed, smacking his mouth shut. You doubted you would ever forget the expression he was wearing in that moment, gold eyes bright and shiny, staring at you almost in disbelief, with some awe and admiration.

"I know I don't have to," you continued. "I'm not offering out of some kind of obligation. I want to - to go through this with you. Hawks, I - I want to get to know this side of you, too."

He was, as you had come to know, a man of many faces. There was the silly, cocky hero he showed the masses, and the calculating, cold assassin he showed villains.

Those few who got close, heroes he trusted, knew he was kind and selfless, always willing to take the front lines, to risk it all. Behind closed doors, you knew he was charming and equally demanding as he was giving.

"If it's what you want, Hawks?" you added on softly.

Hawks blinked slowly. "Yeah," he exhaled heavily, like he had been holding his breath. "Fuck, I do. But, if I hurt you..." He trailed off, leaving the words unspoken, though the implication was obvious enough.

You fumbled nervously against the door, not because you were afraid of what he might do, but because you were surprised by your own emotions, by your lack of worry.

Maybe, it was just unwavering trust for the man who had been by your side for so long. Or, maybe, Hawks had managed to unlock some feral desires inside you that you never knew existed before him.

"Few months back, when you left so suddenly, it was for this, wasn't it? We were together then, but you didn't tell me," you uttered.

Hawks nodded, silently answering your question. It had come on so suddenly that he had no choice but to make a quick getaway, and let the planning fall on the wayside.

He at least made the time to tell you, albeit over a quick phone call, that he would be gone for a week and not to worry. You hadn't pressed him, figuring it was a sudden, unexpected mission.

"When you're in your rut, I - well, what am I to you?" you asked.

Shamelessly, Hawks recalled that he had thought of you, even before you came together. The beautiful woman whom he trusted with every fiber of his being, sometimes his sidekick, always his fellow hero, someone who had been there for him.

"My... mate," he answered quietly, as if he didn't want you to hear him.

Mate... not as eloquent as a lover and with a feral and obvious implication. Maybe, that should have been degrading, disgusting, being reduced to such a thing. But, it felt strangely tantalizing. As lewd as it might have sounded, mates were still equals, partners in love and war.

"You know..." you began, pausing briefly as you approached Hawks' desk.

His gold eyes followed you closely, looking up at you with a sort of softness that didn't quite fit with the conversation. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you liked it that way.

"-partner, lover, friend... You called me your 'personal pain in the ass' once," you said, laughing softly. "I... want to be your mate, too, Keigo."

You were careful about when and where you said his name: it was a sacred secret, something he trusted you with so dearly, so cautiously. But, sometimes, he really needed to hear it, especially when you needed him to know you were serious.

"-if you'll have me?" you added on quietly.

Rather suddenly, one of Hawks' feathers zipped across the room, wrapped around the door handle and flung it open.

You were so distracted by that flying plume that you almost didn't notice Hawks reach for the pile of papers, grab a few off the stack, and angle them at you.

Someone stepped into his office: one of the lawyers, by the look of their expensive suit. As they did, Hawks pulled the papers back and offered you a soft smile as he set them on the pile.

"Thanks. Is this all of them?" he asked, bright and cheery, a forced voice you were quite familiar with.

Somehow, you managed to catch up to him before you did something stupid. "I think so," you replied, matching his bubbly tone.

"Thanks," he chirped. "Oh, and your time off request has been approved, in case you missed the email?" he added on in a flawlessly professional tone.

You stepped away from his desk and carefully walked around the man, who had completely ignored you and was staring down Hawks like a starving, ravenous animal.

"Thanks, Hawks," you replied sweetly.

"Of course. Have fu-!" he cheered as you stepped out, barely cut off as the lawyer slammed the door as soon as you were out of range.

[thefanbasewhore]

To Forget.

Summary: Buck has a nightmare and just wants to forget about it, of course with the help of his girlfriend.

Warning/content: (18+), suggestive content ahead. Biting, slight degration, rough sex, mentions of PTSD but Bucky is a soft little angel towards the end. P in V, oral (female receiving)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I don't ever write smut, so this kinda sucks but also took me 2 weeks to write 😡

He's curled on the floor, chest heaving as he takes a deep gulp. Eyes ablaze but wide with sadness, fear of the demons who drown him every night he closes his eyes.

The smallest step has his head snapping in your direction, hand reaching out as if he was looking for something to protect himself with but with a few clicks and gears turning the vibranium hand unclenches a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

"Hi baby." His heart is still pounding, mind still racing as he remembers the reason he's in this predicament. Faces of those he's wrong, guilty he's the reason families mourn and children go without father's. Bucky opens his arms, wanting you close, wants the feeling of anxiety and guilt to go away.

Without hesitation you sink down next to him, finding a home between his arms, chest warm and comforting.

"It's alright Buck, I'm here." Lifting your head to face him, petting his hair as you press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are sad, glossy with unshed tears, chest irratic against your own. "I'm here."

A hand against his chest reminds him to breath, taking deep breaths out his nose to ease the burning chest. "You have to start waking me up when you move off the bed, don't like you sleeping out here by yourself."

"You look so peaceful, it would be a crime too."

A warm, soft hand glides up the bare skin of your inner thigh, skillful and unforgiving as it pushes deeper and deeper underneath the hem of the shirt. Bucky's eyes flicker to your own, sad and wild but also, filled with an aching hunger felt deep inside the pit of his stomach. The blues mixed with a sense of panic but layered with cloudy lust. "Wanna forget sweetheart."

The words mean nothing as a finger presses against the bundle of nerves covered by your panties, which momentarily surprises and makes your jump, warm lips press against the junction of where your neck and collar bone joint. "Help me forget?"

It's hard denying such a request especially feeling the cushioning of his bottom lip follow the line of your collar bone with wet, sloppy kisses. He's sucking at the skin, nibbling and paining it purple in his wake, fingers now running over the hem of the black, lace panties. His other hand reaches over, vibranium knotting into your hair, cupping the back of your head to angle your face towards his, it's not soft - rough and meaningful but just enough to make your heart pound and between your legs wet.

Longing eyes as he bites his swollen lips, staring at each other for an eternity - or that's what it feels like. The tension is high, his hardness heavy on your inner thigh as he moves closer, coolness of dog tags felt through the thin shirt, the contact hardening your nipples. Eyes dark are feral and when you dare look away - down at where he throbs against you, he harshly yanks at your hair. "Eyes on me, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten my answer yet."

"Yes, yes, yes." That's all he needs as a tongue wets the skin of your neck, a smooth trail of saliva making your neck his. Flesh hand reaches between, squeezing your tit softly, rubbing it through the shirt and feeling it harden.

Clearly frustrated, his fingers pull at the hem of the shirt with a growl, soon enough it's up and over thrown across the room with little regard. Hands squeeze every round piece of flesh, gentle but meaningful as lips bruise your skin.

His chest flushes against your own, now with heavy breaths for an entirely different reason. Frustrated hands find the barrier between his hand and your aching arousal, face mirroring the irritation because of it as two hands push into hem before shredding them with little regards.

You barely have time to gasp as his fingers fill you, smooth kisses presses against the line of your stomach as fingers slide out before curling up into the spot that makes you cry.

He's relentless, at first it's too much, trying to move up the bed from the source but he holds you still, grounds you underneath him until you're soaking his hand, whining out for him.

"More, more, please." At this point you don't know what you're begging for, something snaps inside you. Warm and filled with a tingle that numbs both legs but between his fingers which move in and out at an unforgiving pace you can't feel a thing.

It's impossible to form words as he hits a spot so deep you cry out.

"Look at you.." He teases but hard eyes are anything but playful, they're cruel and condescending and never leave your own. The way he talks is so filthy, degrading but love every word that falls from his mouth. "All dumb, can't even speak. Am I making you dumb, sweet girl?"

The words get stuck in your throat again, the feeling on his finger hit deeper and deeper as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Eyes feel heavy, half way closing as walls flutter around his scissoring digits. "Gonna come for me, honey?"

"Mmmm!" Is all you can manage as a pair of teeth sink into your inner thigh, it doesn't break the skin but will leave a mark that will last days.

"Yes you are, look at you. I want it, give it to me." A tongue runs out to roll over the burning skin, soothing it with wet saliva and a few kisses as his fingers milk you through. "There it is, you're gorgeous, baby."

It happens so fast, white, hot pleasure that temporarily blinds you. A dark bliss with shaky thighs, they only thing that pulls you back is the feeling of lips against your inner thighs and clicking of plates and shifting of gears as cool vibranium pets your hair, skimming over your hair line. "You with me, bunny?"

A weak nod but that's all he needs before a long stride of his tongue catches a taste of your cum, squealing at the surprise and sensativity of post orgasm. "Bu- Buck -."

You can't form words once again and he can care less. He's ruthless, nibbling at the over-sensative bundle of nerves, licking and moaning with the slightest shift of his own hips

Hands fall to feel the smooth hair, stands a little longer on top fill into the gasps of your fingers, pulling harder- harder then you usually would but Bucky doesn't seem to mind.

"Buck - ugh!" The sounds are filthy, wet and sloppy as one particularly hard pull of hair muffles a moan that vibrates your whole lower half, legs start to shake as thighs tighten and cup his ears.

He's putting his all and everything into you, drunk on the feeling and taste as everything else in his broken mind disappears - he's tense, angry but only filled with thoughts of you, you, you.

For the second time within only minutes of each other you cum, Bucky doesn't dare move, taste every single drop he could manage before pulling away. Arousal smeared across his face as he sits on his knees between open legs using the back of his hand to wipe whatever he could manage.

The loud announcers of the soccer match on the television is the only sound next to the heavy breathing, breasts moving with every breath and Bucky can't look away. Metal fingers cool your nipple, squeezing and pinching as you let out a gasp and cower from the touch. The hand fingers your chin, clicking as it curls against the chin and pulling eyes to his open.

He doesn't bother with words, instead closes the gap between both of you. Taste of yourself tangy on lips, a strong tongue parting lips as the shift of hips has his cock kissing your opening. He tests the waters, pushing forward for the bulbous head runs up and down and up again to touch the bundle of nerves that makes you moan under his mercy.

Tears of frustration prickle eyes but his tongue continues to messily run over every part of your mouth - the roof, the tongue, sucking lips purple and swollen - he can't get enough. It's torturous but soft, lips are kind and caring and considerating on the distraction for the moment.

"You're so beautiful, how'd I get so lucky?." He sounds drunk whispering against your lips, slurring and slow as flesh fingers knot the back of your hair to bring you deeper into his lips. "Can't get enough of you."

"Buck, need you." Wether he hears the words or completely ignores them, his tongue rolls over your own, sharp teeth catching the fat of your lip as his hips tut into yours. He's throbbing against your inner thigh, pre-cum mixed with your own arousal soaking the skin.

The small hand goes unnoticed as it slips down his hard stomach, following the trail of hair that leads to him. His lips are too busy, messy and wet as they move against your own. A hand wraps around his hardness, momentarily separating where you two meet, a small gasp parting lips.

His eyes flutter close as you pump him, pressing soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder. The skin is hot, and still tastes salty from his dream but the whisper of your name under his breath has you reaching forward, fingers at the base of his neck to bring him to your own lips.

You take this time to squeeze and he groans, unaware of your true intensions to push him off, hands against his chest to apply a force that's enough to knock him into his back.

Pretty blue eyes with soft alabaster skin, which flushes compared to the disholved light pink blanket that's fabric tightens under his body weight but never leaves your face, well maybe a second to watch you straddle his thighs, rub your aching pussy against this heavy length.

He doesn't fight as you lift yourself up, rubbing the throbbing head against your folds before slipping into the warm, wet hole with a hiss.

"Jesus, sweetheart." He groans, every inch sending a shock of pleasure up his spine but also stretching you so good it's intoxicating. Drunk on him, the way blue eyes beg you for more, bites his lip and smirks seeing just how ruined you already look.

Finally he's snug, not an inch left to move but you're so warm he doesn't know if he wants to, so you decide to for him. Pressing a hand against his chest for support, giving him an experimental roll that receives a deep breath, "That's it."

"Look good like this." Cool metal squeezes your left breast with his admittance as your hips finally find their rhythm.

Bucky flesh hand follow the lines of your stomach, over the roundness of your breast grab ahold of the posterior aspect of your deltoid, the other cool one is digging dents into the skin of your hip as another skillful roll of your hips has his head rolling back onto the ground.

His mouth hangs open, soft praises filling the air.

You're so good to me.

That's it honey, feel so good.

Eyes squeezed shut as small, sloppy kisses are felt against his neck. A set of teeth digging into the skin and something snaps. A snarl with teeth, fangs on full display as he uses his hand placement as an advantage to turn the pair of you. He pulls out with a hiss, angry and red but the hand against your back guides you to lay on your stomach. With a gentle but meaningful push pressing your cheek to the floor and keeps it there, his other hand curling around your hips to pull them towards him.

Without a word he splits you open again, easing himself until you're a withering mess, under the mercy of his hand which keeps your head grounded, the surface of the floor cool on contrast with the skin of your cheek. He doesn't waste any time, pulling out before trusting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

It doesn't stop, over and over again. Every ounce of frustration is felt as he sheths every inch of himself inside you. Brutal, almost painful but clouds your mind, barely can speak as his hips snap against your own.

He's taking it out on you, so lost in his pleasure he's temperily blind from why this even started in the first place, all he can concentrate on his how good and right you feel, the sound of your arousal every time he trusts into you, the way his name falls from your lips.

A small ache starts to form from the repeated force on your ischial but it's burns so good as he continues to split you open.

"Fuck..." He moans, "So good, sweetheart."

His hips are faultering and slowly loosing rhythm as he hears his end, the vibranium fingers squeeze your ass before pulling away and coming down to hard you see black and feel the rush of blood to that area makes you dizzy.

It's a sharp, searing heat that fills your stomach. Under his mercy as he claims you his, teeth scrape but his lips follow behind to soothe. A hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you towards him but his hips never stop, he's filling you with a brutal pace as your back makes contact with his swollen chest.

The hand wraps around the front now, squeezing the tender area of your neck and you're a mess, feeling his other hand press down on the bundle of nerves that makes you squeal, begging for more.

Arousal coats your legs, thank God he's holding you up because they're shaking, unsteady as he bottoms out inside you again. The bulbous head stretching you to no return, he changed the angle by flexing an knee for more force and you're done for.

Teeth nipping your ear, down the sensative skin of your neck that's already covered with all his love bites, soothing them with the warm surface of his tongue. Heavy breathing in your ear all you could hear as all your other sense dull out, falling limp in his arms.

It's numbing the way the orgasm hits you, blinding and all you can feel is a red hot release that bubbles your chest, makes you cry out for him. All you can hear is a moan in your ear, the "Good girl," as Bucky nears his end.

Almost seconds later, hips still against your ass, pressing harshly as white spurts coat your walls and follow with a small kiss against your shoulder.

He's breathing heavy, slowly lowering both of you on the floor but doesn't dare pull out, instead pulls you close to his chest, sensative and twitching.

He's breathless, but looking over your shoulder to see the closed mouth smile with an appearance of a dimple. "Thank you, baby doll. Feel better already."

His tongue clicks at the imprint of his hand on your cheek, red and on fire but due to the post organism haze you barely felt it. The outline of his fingers starting to rise off the skin, it would be there for a while. "I'm sorry." An apologetic kiss touches your arm, follows a trail up and to your back, soft breath fans your neck, "I was too rough, took it out on you."

Sleepily shaking your head with a goofy grin, "Was good, like it."

A hand cups your head, lifting it front the hard floor to place a pillow there and gently placing it there. The other rubs soothing circular motions over your ass check, with a small frown.

"Bucky, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Don't like hurting you, was too rough." He argues, guilt creeping at his shoulders, weighing then down aa avoids eye contact.

"I liked it." Despite your sore extremities you turn to face him, one hand comes up to cup his cheek, rub the high globes of his face and vibranium soon follows to cover yours. "You were not too rough, in fact, wanna give me a matching one on the other side?"

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

[spideyspeaches]

Gorgeous ↬ b.b

A/N: Props to @thefallenbibliophilequote​ for getting me into bucky XD (fic lowkey based on Taylor Swift’s Gorgeous.)

Warnings: smut :) very smut and nudity.

MINORS DNI

WC: 2.5k+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter Parker & Reader (Platonic)

Masterlist || Taglist 

“Do you think he has a girlfriend?” You asked, sipping at the fairly bitter beer in your hand. Looking over your shoulder, you sighed, slumping on the counter of the bar you were in.  

You had been dragged along with your neighbour- Peter Parker, also known as the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, to a club right after an Avengers mission. You were no avenger, just a run in the mill overworked and underpaid preschool teacher. 

It had become customary for you to tag along with him to bars with the other Avengers, after you had discovered about his spidery abilities. You had always been close to him, he was your brother in everything but blood. You were after all, his bonafide babysitter/best friend. 

The others in his team had accepted you with open arms, a weird bond forming between you and them, accepting you as more than "Peter's hot neighbour" and more like a part of their team. 

One particular person seemed to have caught your eye. 

Cranking your neck to see his slumped figure, you smirked at his back, eyes tracing his broad shoulders and newly buzz cut hair. You hadn’t talked to him much, but from when you had, you found him to be very sweet. He was shy, rarely spoke and always in his own shell, cheeks rosy pink whenever you conversed. So different from what the media portrayed him as that you found it utterly confusing that such a man could be brainwashed and used as a murder machine. 

Your heart ached for him, for how misunderstood he was among the antis. You just wanted to hug the man and give him one big forehead smooch. But, oh were you brought back to reality with a hit that you couldn’t really do that without looking creepy.

"Who? Bucky?" Peter smirked, interrupting you from looking at him. Your willed your heart to stop racing and plummeting in your stomach. 

“I thought his name was James?” You said, tilting your head in confusion. From what you had read in a source, his name was James Buchanan Barnes-

“Yeah but Steve calls him Bucky, so everyone does too.”

“Oh, Bucky. Has a nice ring to it.” You nodded, ignoring his smug expression, “answer my question though. I’m not gonna hit on him if he already has a girlfriend. Wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” You grumbled the next part, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy you felt in your chest.

Peter had made it very apparent to you that he was fully aware of your humongous crush on the winter soldier. And that little shit never let go of it, even when you weren't anywhere near the vicinity of said winter soldier. 

"Why do you think I would know?" He scoffed, going back to sipping his own bottle of beer. Scowling at him, you opened your mouth, inhaling sharply. 

"I don't know, cause you practically live there?" You shrugged, trying to feign indifference. You knew he looked right through it, if his shit eating grin and flushed cheeks were anything if not confirmation. 

"Bold of you to assume he even talks to me. And anyway, he hates my guts, him and Sam always prank me, it's practically a routine." He said, rolling his eyes, swirling his bottle lazily, "why do you want to know that anyway?" 

"You know why." You hissed. Turning around, your breath hitched when you saw him staring at You, wondering if he was just staring at your general direction and if you were going to embarrass yourself by waving at him. 

Apparently he was looking at you, because you swore saw a tiny wave coming at your direction, a small smile playing on his face. 

“And what if he did?”

“What is it to you, kiddo?”

"You both disgust me. Bucky with his constant questions about you and you with your constant questions about him" Peter muttered sarcastically. Ignoring him, you sighed dreaming, slumping on the barstool, "don't you already have a boyfriend anyway?" 

“And what about him?” You grumbled, rolling your eyes at the mention of him. He was hardly a boyfriend, more of a fling, an excuse to stop the pain of being single (you were dramatic, you knew). You were over him, broken up not long ago, but Peter didn’t need to know that. You wouldn’t want Peter siccing himself at your worst enemies.

“What I know is that he’s one son of a bitch who doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. Why are you dating him again?” Peter said, snapping you out of your daze.

“Do you kiss your girlfriend’s pussy with that mouth?” You scowled, huffing pettily.

“I’m sorry, who’s girlfriend’s what?” Tony said, appearing out of thin air, his mouth hung as he gaped at you and Peter. You snickered at Peter’s flushed and stuttering form, counting that as one win tonight. 

“My girlfriend’s lips. Y/N’s stuttering cause she’s too busy staring at Bucky.” Peter said, fixing you with a look, his head tilted adorably, jaw clenched like the way it did when he was done with your bullshit.

“Hey I’m not staring at him! He’s just so gorgeous- look at him!” You giggled, watching him stumble from his stool, the alcohol in your veins making you braver than before. You had endured more than one round of teasing from the team about your very obvious crush on one Bucky Barnes, yet you went on with your babbling.

“Yeah yeah, you’ve said what what- oh a million times before!” Peter shrieked, hands up in the air, nearly dropping his bottle. Snatching his bottle, you drowned the remaining liquid, dropping it on the counter with a scow, “are you even old enough to drink?”

“Hey! Let me tell you, I’m turning twenty one in a week, or did you forget?” He said, ignoring Tony, who was shaking his head and grumbling something about being too old for this shit.

“Of course I didn’t forget kiddo.” You said, smiling sadly at him, ruffling his messy brown hair. Ever since you met him, you always loved playing with his hair. They were fluffy, just like your cat’s, “Who allowed you to grow up so fast?” 

“Y/n/n! I’m only four years younger than you!”

“Ugh don’t remind me.” It still iffed you to no end that the boy who was once nine years younger than you was now 4 years younger, nevermind that he was mature much beyond his age. Mind briefly averted from one Winter Soldier, you didn’t notice him sit down next to you, startled when he called for you. You didn’t even notice Peter giving you a look before Tony dragged him somewhere.

“Hey, you’re Y/n right? Peter’s-” He started, your brain short circuiting when you saw his piercing blue eyes- the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen, staring at you, a small smirk playing on his stubbled jaw. You gulped internally, clearing your throat and sitting straight.

“Neighbour? Yes that’s me.” You nodded enthusiastically, smiling as much as you could without cringing at your ecstatic behaviour. 

“I know.”

“Cool.” 

Shuffling in your seat, you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to speak before both of you were interrupted by your laughter. Getting yourself together, you gestured for him to talk, “go ahead.”

“So, should I buy you a drink?”

“Only if you let me buy you one.” 

And that’s how it started. One drink turned to another, and next thing you knew you were kissing him, his hands in your hair, the cold of his metal arm placed firmly on your bare waist as he bunched your t-shirt up in a fist.

For a moment you weren’t aware of your surroundings, the only thing you could feel was his t-shirt fisted in your hands, his freezing palm causing an eruption of goosebumps on your skin as the cold air of the room hit you full force. Panting, you scrambled for the door, holding his hands in the darkened room as you followed him blindly.

Crashing your lips to his once again, you moan under your breath, chest hitching as you scrambled for your shirt and bra, pulling it over your head as you watched him do the same, smirking at the very apparent bulge on his blue jeans. 

“Do you have a condom? You panted, tracing his biceps with your nails as you pulled him so that you were chest to chest, your nipples hardening as your bare chests made contact. You could feel your pussy throbbing, groaning at your already growing lady boner, the place between your thighs slick with wetness.

“In my pocket.” He answered, lifting you up as you wrapped your legs around him, throwing you on the bed with questionable stains. You moaned as he dropped his weight on you, his hands burning flames on your skin as he traced patterns on your bare arms, kissing you with a vigor. 

Your hands reached for his jeans pocket, fumbling to find the packet of condom while he traced his lips on your neck, nibbling at the curve of your shoulder, making you shudder with excitement.

“Are you sure you-”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Whatever you say doll.” 

Your stomach coiled when he called you that, groaning in pleasure as he roughed you up with his hands, his jeans sliding off, leaving his bare thighs barely visible to your eye. His eyes were somehow still illuminated in the dark room, leaving you even more wet than before. You never knew his eyes could turn you on so much that he made you come even before he could slide inside you.

Thrusting your hips, you watched impatiently as he slid the condom on his hardened dick, asking you for permission once more before sliding into you, his hips thumping with yours as he gradually increased his pace, hitting your spot.

“You’re so beautiful, so pretty under me. Perfect little wet pussy you got there doll.” He whispered, closing his eyes as you continued to run your fingers through his hair, holding onto his back with one of your hands, nails digging into his flesh, unable to form any words.

“I’m close.” You moaned, rolling your hips with his as he continued to move, panting, one hand on the headboard and the other on your boobs, keeping you firmly planted on the shitty pub mattress as he kneaded the soft skin, the brush of his fingers on your pebbled nipple your last straw as you finally gave into your climax.

“You good?” He asked, his dick still inside you as you came all over him. Sliding out, you lay on the dirty sheets, your bare body shivering with the excessive hormones that took over you, realising that you had just fucked James Buchanan Barnes. 

“Yeah, I’m good, Great. Amazing. Wow I can’t believe this happened.” You said, holding the thin sheet up to your chest as you saw him in the dim lights. His chest was glistening with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead as you saw him discard the condom in a bin. Biting your lip, you tried not to stare at his bare ass, clenching your thighs. 

He gave you a friendly smirk when he caught you, thankful for the dark room, for you couldn’t stand him looking at your burning cheeks. 

“You know you can look right?” He smiled, holding your cheek in his cold palm, your own palms sweating as he straddled you, his frame encompassing yours as he towered over you, your thighs already pulsing, begging for a round two as-

“Oh, oh jesus you have nice fingers.” You giggled as he inserted his two fingers in your pulsing core, jerking your hips as he navigated through your slick folds. 

“It’s actually Bucky, but Jesus would do too.” He said, silencing you with another kiss. He gave a throaty growl as you kissed him harder, slicking back his hair with one hand, scratching at his scalp with your nails. Smirking under the kiss, you continued to do so until he increased his pace, your throbbing core giving in to the stimuli.

It was somehow easy for you to forget that the man you barely knew had made you come twice in the same night.

“Do you- do you want to go out sometime? Preferably without that Parker kid trailing behind you like a puppy?” Bucky huffed, ceasing his movement to look at you, your mouth open, wiping the smudged lipstick with a finger. 

“Aw he has good intentions.” You smiled, licking your lips teasingly as he rolled his eyes, “admit it he’s a good kid.”

“Are you really talking about Parker while I’m fingering you?”

“What? Ew. No, just, he thinks you hate him.” You giggled, shifting on the sheets a little to release your straining pelvis from cramping. 

“I don’t hate him, he’s a good kid, but he’s also a little shit at times.” He said, a fond look in his eyes. Your heart clenched at his expression, slowly pulling out of his grasp as you flopped on the bed, turning and looking at him. 

“He do be like that sometimes. But to answer your question, yes I would love to go on a date with you.” You smiled, burying your nose in his neck, not even caring that some drunk people might walk in on you two. No one had so far, so you didn’t really care.

To say that you were whipped would be an understatement. You started visiting the compound more often, came to movie nights, spent more time with everyone (especially him). 

“No!” You laughed, giggling as he picked you up bridal style, “Bucky! Jeez put me down right this instant or I’ll stick fridge magnets on you!”

You were instantly dropped on your feet, sighing when you felt his arms circle your waist, pulling your back to his chest. The tower was empty, everyone going back to their respective workplaces. It was only the two of you. You could hear him hum under his breath.

“Fridge magnet? Are they those sticky things that stick on fridges?”

“Yes Bucky, that’s exactly what they are. I thought they existed in the 20s?” You scoffed, turning around, falling on his firm chest. Circling your hands around his waist, you pondered at how close you had gotten with him in just a few days. Heck, every time you visited, it felt like you were just growing closer, until you felt your relationship tying in a tight knot. With a snap, you realised that your life might as well be in ruins was he not yours at this moment. 

“Only rich people had them.”

Maybe you were going overboard with your feelings, maybe you were rushing things, but you didn’t mind. Getting close to people wasn’t always your strongest suit, but with this man, you didn’t mind having silent conversations. Until you could feel his fingers on every inch of your being. 

With your heart thudding in your chest, you realised that you could spend your entire life tightening the knot of your heart with his, listen to him breathe as you laid by his bedside, play silly games with him. You were in love with this man.

“What are you thinking about?” He smiled, still swaying in your embrace.

“Nothing much.”

A/N: the ending is a little questionable but lemme know what you think! Requests are open! :)

[duskholland]

for blurb night.. some good ol’ lovemaking with Mob! Tom? I still like things to be really passionate and intense though, those deep, hard, but slow thrusts yk? dirty talking, clinging desperately to one another.. maybe some breeding kink in there? 👀 ‘Ive-missed-you’ sex sort of deal? idk, have fun with it, girl! feel free to add or change things a lil! your writing is gold btw, sending love 💞✨

ugh..........yes.

—clearing out the askbox: smut edition—

extended warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex. ——

Tom lays you down over the sprawling king-sized mattress very delicately, kissing your lips, deeply, before slowly making his way down your body.

“So bloody perfect, aren’t you, angel?”

Your boyfriend runs his hands over your chest, grabbing handfuls of your breasts in his warm palms. As he dips his head down and laps over your left nipple, a small whimper slips past your lips.

“Hm?” Tom blinks up at you, brown eyes wide with false innocence as he drags his tongue over your nipple. As one hand pays attention to your other breast, his remaining fingers travel to your face, fingertips padding over your lips. He drums his digits over your mouth. “Speak, darling. I want to hear your beautiful voice.”

You push against his touch and kiss at his fingertips, earning a smirk from your boyfriend.

“Missed you so much, Tom,” you mumble. You gasp softly when Tom releases your nipple and continues on his journey down your figure. “Been a really long two weeks without you.”

Soft, warm lips move over your stomach, over your hips, to the tops of your thighs. Tom had already taken the liberty of peeling down your panties earlier when he’d undressed you in front of the mirror and made you watch as he’d explored your tight heat with three of his slender, skilled digits. You’re already wet - orgasmed twice, but craving more, aching for the sweet release that you only get from Tom, and his hands, or his mouth, or his cock.

“Fuck,” you whimper, watching as Tom kisses each of your thighs before pushing your legs wide open. “Please fuck me,” you beg, grasping at the sheets. “I need your cock, Tom.”

Your boyfriend hums, using two fingers to peel apart your outer lips. Your tender clit throbs, and then you cry out loudly as he dips his head and runs his tongue over the bud. He drags his warm muscle from your entrance before circling your clit again, grunting in appreciation as you reach down to grab a hold of his hair. You try weakly to pull him back, muttering more about how you’ll go crazy if you don’t feel him properly, but he just tuts.

“Shush,” he hums. “Let me taste my pussy, yeah? Then I’ll give you what you want, greedy thing.”

He’s got both of his arms holding your waist, keeping you firmly on the bed as you thrash. You love it - love the feeling of his tongue, swirling around your bud, rewarding the sensitive area with warm, wet circles - and he knows it, knows you love being stimulated beyond the limits of pleasure like this. There have been nights before where he’s spread you out like this and made you cum, over and over, until all you know is his name, dripping from your tongue like a prayer.

“Fuck, fuck,” you murmur. Obscene wet noises drift through the air as Tom makes out with your heat, sparing no enthusiasm as he sucks at your cunt, adding two fingers into your pulsing pussy as his mouth unravels you. “Keep going, fuck, I’m-”

Tom hums, loudly, and the vibrations cause you to spin off, shouting obscenities as you moan loudly. You fall apart under his tongue, dizzying waves of pleasure spreading over you as you drown in it, chest heaving as you gasp loudly.

“Fucking delicious,” Tom mutters. He slides up your body, dark eyes glinting as your juices shine on his chin. “Don’t think there’s anything I love more than tasting my cunt, darling.” He smirks when you whimper and reach out for him, pulling him closer again. His cock, hard and aching, presses up against your slit, and as you part your legs wider, it settles between your folds. “Still so needy though, aren’t you?”

Tom has fun teasing you, rolling his hands over your face, grinding experimentally against your tender cunt until you’re whimpering. He’s such a tease - it doesn’t matter that he’s been away for two weeks on business, he’s persistent, and you know he enjoys the way you’re melting for him.

“Please, please,” you mumble, gasping as you feel his tip press up against your entrance. You’re insatiable, your skin crawling with a hot, throbbing heat that can only be cured by the feeling of your boyfriend entering you again. “Spent so many nights thinking about this, Tom,” you add, trying to coax him into action. “Want to feel your cock spreading me open, baby. Please, please, please.” You dust his face with kisses, and Tom chuckles. He drops his face until he’s able to kiss the base of your neck, sucking a very hard, enjoyable hickey to your skin.

“Do you want my cock?” He asks, voice husky. He looks up at you, eyes narrowing in a show of dominance, “Or do you want my cum?”

Your throat runs dry, and you find yourself swallowing deeply as your hands go up to his hair. You card your fingertips through Tom’s soft brown curls, nodding as your body fills with heat.

“Both,” you mumble.

Tom tilts his face, lips catching at the juncture of your jaw and your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs. He leaves another kiss, wet and firm, to the sensitive spot of your jaw, causing you to whimper. “We both know you want more than just my cock, darling. Go on. You can tell me.” He rubs his cock against your entrance and you whimper. “I know the dirty little thoughts you’ve been having, hm? Just tell me, and it’s all yours.”

Normally you’d be shy about it, bashful and embarrassed, but then again, you wouldn’t also be full of such persistent arousal that it feels like you’re dripping over the tip of his cock. So you groan, grabbing handfuls of his back as you say, firmly,

“I want your cum, Tom. I want…” You choke into a moan as he slides into you easily, meeting no resistance from your desperate cunt. “I want you to fill me up,” you say, “Want- want to feel you cumming in me. Have it drip out of me afterwards.” You whimper as he starts to thrust into you. “Want you to make a mess.”

Tom groans, his voice deep and raspy.

“There’s a good girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with appreciation. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He’s slow with his thrusts, but they’re deep. You feel the pleasurable stretch that comes with each one of his movements, his thrusts nudging his cock further each time. You’re revelling in it, moaning loudly as you cling to the packed muscles on his back, your body full of warmth as you take him in again.  “Feels so fucking snug, angel.”

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your body twitching each time Tom pulls out only to sink back into you, your heat warm and wet. “Missed this,” you whimper, voice high. “Missed this so much.”

“Mmm, bet you have, darling.” Tom’s kissing over your collarbones, nibbling at your skin with light kisses. His curls brush at your neck. “Your fingers don’t feel as good as my cock, do they?”

“No.”

“But you tried, didn’t you? Can just imagine it. You coming up here, all alone, missing me.” Tom smirks against your neck, and you shiver. “Working yourself open with a few fingers, trying to pretend they were me. But it wouldn’t ever feel as good as this, would it?”

Your body is on fire, the muscles in your legs pulled tight with exertion, the heat in the pit of your stomach rising with each thrust. You reach down and grab at one of Tom’s hands, twirling your fingers together and clinging on for dear life.

“No, nothing’s as good as this.”

“Didn’t think so.” Tom’s voice is thick, mingling with the sounds of slapping arousal that fill the room. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he grunts. He pulls his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his gaze primal and dark. His thrusts grow more purposeful, and you’re whining as you feel his hips grinding down against your clit every time. “Been dreaming of this tight little cunt, love. Every night, thought about fucking you. Cumming in you and listening to you moaning when you feel my cum fill you up, shit-”

You’re so close, and his words just make you clench around him.

“Please, please,” you beg, mind gone. You squeeze at his hand, your other one grabbing at his back as you cling to him, craving everything. “I want it, Tom, fuck, make me cum, fill me up. I need it, I need you.”

“Such a fucking angel,” Tom murmurs. He bites the top of your shoulder as you shake, and with a final thrust and burst of pressure to your clit, you’re there. “Oh, fuck, darling, squeezing me so tight- there you go, fuck, so perfect, love, that’s it.”

The strength of your climax is so powerful that it takes you out for a few moments, but you feel Tom peaking right after. You moan, your eyes rolling back as you feel him pulse inside you, shooting his warm seed deep within you as he swears and holds you near, rocking his hips against yours until you’re both spent.

He slumps against your chest, and you sigh contentedly as you roll your fingers through his hair. Bliss fills every part of you.

“Missed you,” you say, smiling down at him when he raises his gaze to you.

Tom sits straighter and leans up until he’s able to kiss your lips again. He lingers up there, eyes sparkling brightly as he kisses you, two more times, in quick, light succession.

“Missed you too, darling.”

[softmothprince]

i rewatched angels of death with friends the other day so i blame that

also this is, like, five pages. 2,659 words. so it’s a long ride. enjoy <3

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

Her eyes twitch as she keeps from them from rolling, face blank as she stares at the smug bastard in front of her. For the past… whatever time, he’s been standing in front of her and babbling about some kind of bullshit she totally wasn’t paying attention to. She just wanted to take the stuff she bought and go home, where her psycho waits.

While it would be so easy to just shut him down and walk out, everytime she tries to back out of the conversation he just keeps bringing up more questions and random shit. It’s when he tries to pull off what he thinks as a sly move that she finally was done with that and everything to do with this.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hand move, realizing what he wanted to try and do when it slid closer to hers. In one swift move, she pulls her hand from the counter and shoves them into her shorts pockets, giving the guy a disgruntled look. Her shopping bag dangles from one wrist, crinkling as it taps against her thigh.

“Even though this was so ‘fun’, I got better things to do than this.” She says, turning on her heel to walk away- only to be stopped when she sees a familiar man waiting across the street.

While hidden by the shadows, she can easily recognize the bandages on his hands and peeking out of his hoodie. She heaves a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck, before exiting the store. She ties the bag closed and lets it hang from her fingers, jogging across the street and towards the waiting man.

“Hey, I thought you-!” She’s cut off when he abruptly stands up straight and jerks towards her.

A strong hand grabs her arm and easily swings her into the alley, tugging her a good few feet away and around a corner before letting go. She stares at his back silently, watching his shoulders slowly move with his breathing, then opens her mouth to say- His palm suddenly slams into the bricks, startling her into jumping back and yelping.

He moved so fast she didn’t see him turn around and become so… close. She looks up at him, eyes widening at the wide grin he wore. While similar to his usual grin, something about it was more… heated. His other hand is loosely holding his scythe (she hadn’t seen it when she first spotted him- he must’ve had it in the alley), mostly resting it on his shoulder with the stained blade reflecting the light.

The wall is hard, cold and unforgiving on her back, but she ignores it in favour of the hand suddenly grabbing around her throat. She gasps, sucking in air quickly in case he decided to tighten his grip and choke her.

“Come on, little bitch. Who’s your daddy?” He growls into her ear, scraping the shell with his teeth and nips at it. His eyes narrow at her silence, making him lean in enough that their noses touch. “I said- who’s. Your. Daddy?”

“Can’t seem to- ugh, to recall anyone.” She gasps, mouth dropping open when he squeezes her neck tighter. “Agh- Isaac-”

“Aww, poor little bitch doesn’t remember. It seems like I’ll have to… remind you.”

With one final squeeze, he feels her fluttering pulse for a moment longer before letting it trail off of her completely. He makes sure to keep eye contact, only letting his gaze travel away when he sees her face turn a dark shade of red. As he turns away to take the familiar walk home, she opens her mouth again.

“You’re being ridiculous, Isaac. You know I belong to you and only you!”

Again, he moves so fast she has to take a step back and somehow presses more into the wall. He doesn’t grab or even touch her, only his breath hitting her face as their noses nearly bump together.

“HE TRIED TO TOUCH YOU!”

Her jaw clenches, bottom lip getting caught by her teeth as she holds back another snarky response. He squeezes the handle of his scythe, using it as an anchor of sorts. To keep him from taking his little bratty bitch right then and there in the alley. As much as he wants to stake his claim, he needs to wait.

With a loud huff through his nose, he spins on his heel and snags the bag she had dropped with two fingers. His shoes scuff against the gravel and stone, kicking them across the path.

“Now let’s go.”

~skip~

It surprises her that they even reached the living room before he pounced. His scythe and the shopping bag is discarded onto the floor as he reaches out and grabs the nape of her neck, dragging her the rest of the way to their room. She nearly trips a few times, but Isaac just jerks her up and pushes her along.

He doesn't even bother to shut the door before he is suddenly ripping and tearing at her clothes. The material of her t-shirt easily rips apart, exposing her skin to his greedy eyes. He wastes no time in running his hands over her breasts and hips, taking care of her shorts next. 

She squeaks and tries to wiggle away while yelling: “Isaac! You can't just-”

“Too bad, you should’ve thought of that before being such a brat.” He grunts, letting the fabric drop onto the floor and going to her panties and bra. “I have no patience for this shit anymore so shut up while I do this.”

“Listen-”

“Like you did with that bastard?”

Her jaw almost clicks with how fast she snaps it closed. When she is finally stripped of all forms of fabric, he sits down and yanks her over his lap.

"Hands under your head."

She swallows, moving her hands from where she was gripping the blankets and crosses them to lay her head on her arms. Without warning, he lands one quick slap onto her ass, gripping the flesh and grins with a cackle when she yelps.

“Now, my little bratty bitch, I’m going to spank you and you are going to count each and every one of them. You misscount? I’ll start over. Give me lip? I start over. You do anything I don’t think is good girl behavior, I start over.” He tilts her head back by grabbing her hair and pulling, leaning over to stare into her glazed over eyes.

“Do you understand my rules?”

“...yes.”

A loud slap, followed by him tugging her hair tighter into his fist.

“Yes. What? Address me properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over the red skin. His finger occasionally pressed onto a dark bruise scattered here and there, remembering when he made those little hickies two days prior. Then, a loud smack echoes around them, being drowned out by her yelp.

"Count."

"O-one."

Smack. 

"Two."

Smack. 

"Thr-ree~"

Her ears ring from the sound of her own voice and the loud slapping of Isaac's palm on her bare ass. She made the mistake of shifting over his lap after counting to ten, resulting in him growling and telling her to start over. There would be no sitting later, she can already tell.

Slap. 

"Tw-twen-twenty…" She gasps, nails digging into her palms.

She waits for another one, but is both relieved and slightly upset that he rolls her off his lap and onto the bed. The cool sheets feel strange on her stinging flesh, but she ignores it as her legs are shoved apart to show her soaked cunt. The inside of her thighs were slick and sticky.

"That really turned you on? What a slut." He scoffs, yet a wide smirk spreads across his face when she whines. "You like being called a slut, huh little bitch? My little slut is more like it."

He trails his fingers up her leg and skirts over her hip bone, pressing his palm against her stomach to hold her down when his other hand toys with her pussy. His fingers slip inside with just a small push, obscene sounds ringing in her ears as he moves them.

“I-Isaac…”

“This cunt is mine, you got that? I caused this mess between your thighs and it’s gonna stay that way.” He purrs, leaning down to cover her nipple with his mouth and strokes his tongue in time with his fingers.

He switches to her other breast as his thumb pushes and rubs her clit, growling in satisfaction when she cries out and bucks her hips up.

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.

She swallows and gasps, before closing her mouth with a bratty grin appearing. Though it quickly vanishes when he roughly scrapes his fingers inside her pussy, aggressively rubbing her g-spot.

“I said: Who. Do. You. Belong. To?”

“Yo-you! Please, pl-EASE~!”

His thumb disappears from her clit and he pulls his fingers out, cutting off any stimulation. He digs his nails into her hips, holding them in place while she spasms and growls at him in frustration. 

“Not good enough, princess. Up.”

He grabs her wrist and tugs her up, making her straddle his hips while he leans back onto the mattress himself. His clothed dick rubs her pussy and clit, the material of his jeans sending jolts up her nerves, before he shoves her to sit on his thighs.

“Go on, my little bitch. Take out my dick.” He purrs, rubbing and squeezing her thighs. Maybe if she was a good girl, he’ll make her sit on his face and suffocate him with those thighs~

She whines, going to grind against his leg- only to be stopped when he lands a slap onto her still stinging ass.

“What did I say? Do it before I leave you to squirm.”

She knows he wouldn’t. They both know he wants to jump her and never stop. So, with a small pout, she unloops his belt and tosses it to the floor, popping the button of his jeans and tugs them and his underwear down his thighs until she can pull his dick out. It’s an angry red, drooling precum down the shaft, bobbing when she gently touches it.

As she goes to try and stroke it, he grabs her wrist with a narrow glare. It’s a silent threat, but she picks it up easily and nods with another pout. Her knees sink into the bed as she rises up on them, moving to angle his cock head with her hole. Swallowing the saliva threatening to drool out, she slowly lowers down.

His cock pushes through with little to no difficulty, rubbing all the right places. Before reaching the hilt, she stops and pulls her head out from his shoulder, looking into his eyes with a slightly uncomfortable look.

“Isaac it- I can’t-”

“Come on, you can take it.” He grumbles, digging his fingers into her hip and forces her the rest of the way down. The sudden rough thrust almost makes her cum, but his strength keeps her from moving. “You cum right now, I will put you over my knee again.” Isaac’s teeth abuse the shell of her ear, nibbling enough that teeth marks appear.

He bites the crook of her neck next, before tangling his fingers into her hair to pull her backwards. This allows him to lean down and nibble around her breasts, moaning into the valley between them.

“Fuck, I love your tits. I love how they look with my teeth and marks all over them~”

“With how often you bite me, they never look diffe-RENT!”

She chokes on her words when he suddenly lifts her up and drops her back down, slamming his cock deep inside her.

“What was that, little bitch? Got something to say? Go on, say it.” He mumbles against her chest, picking her up again and letting her fall back down.

Her mouth drops open, the only sounds pouring out being moans and curses. He is easily reminded why his favorite sound is her choking out his name.

“That- ugh, that the best you go-got?” She pants, squealing when he suddenly grabs her throat again.

He falls back flat onto the bed, pulling her with him and forcing the angle of his cock to change. And if the loud sob she let out tells him anything, he found that little spot of nerves.

“You may be on top, but-” He jerks her down more, brushing their lips together with a manic grin. “I still own you. Your heart, mind, body- everything is mine.”

She can hear her response in her head, but all that comes out of her mouth is a loud sob followed by begging. Isaac turns his head away, choosing to focus on the skin of her neck that isn’t covered by his hand. He sucks and nips at the supple flesh, traveling down to her collarbone and shoulder.

His teeth sink into her shoulder, making her throw her head back with a loud sob. The hands around her neck and hip are so tight she can feel the bruises already, yet the sting from his bite overpowers them. 

“Mineminemineminemi-MINE!” His voice cracks when he cums, hips faltering for only a moment before going back to the brutal pace. “Take it- take my cum. Take all of it. I’m gonna stuff you so there is no denying who you belong to. You’ll be dripping for days.”

The deep groans rumbling from his chest occasionally hitch into a higher tone, before dropping back down. Once satisfied, he slows his thrusts until he finally just presses their hips together, sitting still. They both shake and breathe heavily, fingers unclenching from bruised and bleeding skin, rubbing the spots silently.

With a soft, slightly higher groan, he pulls out and briefly sits up to look between her legs. Her pussy is swollen and red, drooling a mix of their cum onto the bed. He lets out a satisfied sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it as he looks around the room.

When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, Isaac stands from the bed and leaves his girl trembling and still riding her high. She hums and curls her fingers into the blankets, letting the soft material ground her. The mattress dips again, alerting her of his presence.

His fingers gently tap her thigh, warning her before he presses a wet cloth to the sensitive flesh. Small sighs pour out from her lips, her head rolling around when the cloth pushes against her clit. She barely registers him moving her around, feeling him slip a shirt over her head and a pair of panties up her legs.

The warmth of his body disappears and she feels the bed move as he gets up again, before it sinks beside her and a soft blanket is tugged over her body. The feeling of Isaac touching her cheek makes her eyes flutter open, finding said man (now in his lounging clothes) laying next to her silently.

His eyes look over her face, taking in the sweat and red flush. Without a word, he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, trailing his hand from her face to gently stroking her pulse with his thumb. He could easily choke her like this, see the light disappear from her eyes as she struggles-

He tilts his head, laying his lips softly over hers and huffs in amusement when she mumbles incoherently. Her fingers curl loosely around his wrist, holding it in place around her throat. A silent form of trust. He snorts, moving to grab her hand and lifts it to his lips to press a kiss to it, before curling his arms around her.

“Brat.” He whispers, hiding his face into her hair.

She smiles, nuzzling into his collarbone.

“I’m your brat. Don’t forget it.”

[meliorist-midoriya]

to you, to the world, to my love (you’re all three)

synopsis: midoriya has always had too much love to give in a world that loved to take. you’re just hoping that he has enough left for you in the end.

pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

genre: fluff with a touch of angst

warnings: some insecurity

word count: 2.5k

notes: happy valentine’s day, everyone! this is my contribution for the pocuties server collab, based off the greek types of love, of which i had the honor of receiving izuku and decided upon agape  please help yourself to the box of chocolates they’re offering for valentine’s, there’s a wide selection of chocolates handmade by talented creators, so i’m sure you’ll find something to your taste! tbh i only managed to finish this fic because i was watching chan’s valentine’s vlive and i was in a super soft mood ;3;

extra: agápe - the ancient greek concept of selfless, universal love.

“Making his debut in the pro hero scene, Pro Hero Deku is blazing a trail straight out of UA—”

“—Pro Hero Deku solved an astounding 30 cases in the past month—”

“Deku’s popularity is skyrocketing, rivaling that of—”

“Hero Deku—”

“Deku—”

“Pro Hero Deku has swept the hero rankings to come out on top as Number 1!”

With a resolute ‘click’ of the remote, the reporters’ overlapping voices cut off as the TV screen faded away, your lonely reflection staring back at you from the blank screen. You, curled up on your empty couch, in your empty apartment with the clock striking what should have been dinner. The TV was only there in an attempt to drown out the crushing silence, the white noise—hellbent on filling the space his presence had left—was deafening.

That attempt failed.

Horribly.

If anything, it just made the sense of wrongness permeating the air even worse. 

(That TV recap of his best moments didn’t help as much as you hoped it would.)

Being alone in this apartment felt… off. As if someone had gouged out what should’ve been there, the ghost of a presence settling a chill into your bones that ran far deeper than just plain loneliness. The foreboding grief of what could be, the fear that you’d resigned yourself to the moment you agreed to follow him on this path, the selfishness gnawing at your conscience every time you saw him run out the door to save the next person, to solve the next case. 

Things like an All Might coffee mug sitting primly next to yours on the drying rack, garishly yellow “tufts” staring back at you with a cracked vengeance. (You’d apologized profusely to him that day, promising to buy him another one. He’d just smiled over his cracked cup of coffee, telling you not to worry about it for the hundredth time.)

Things like his haphazard mess of notes and scrawl spread out on the kitchen counter, the pen sitting next to the half finished page. (You’ve long since learned to leave his notes be, they’ll be tidied up once he’s done… if he’s ever truly done.)

The filled queue of movies and pile of DVDs you’d picked out together, giddy over plans to watch the next time he had a free night. (You remember pretending not to notice him trying to slip another hero documentary near the bottom of the pile, distracting you with talks of popcorn and the night that was supposed to be tonight.)

Deku. The man the world adored, clinging to his promise like a lifeline in times of need. 

Midoriya Izuku. The man you loved, who promised you the world.

“It’ll be okay, I’m here.”

His soft promise echoed both in the battlefield and in your darkest hours, a close mirror to a hero of a generation past, yet it was different. It was his own. Comforting, personal, and wholly him. The public, weak and grasping for new support, latched on to the small sliver of hope his hand offered and he just kept giving, giving, giving. It never seemed to stop, and you were scared. 

He was a man with a bleeding heart with all the love to give and more. To the civilians, to the villains, to anyone in need.

Now, you needed his promise more than ever. A reassurance whispered into reunions and the thousandth hospital visit, over fresh scars and searing kisses. A promise that he would come home. You didn’t want to think of all the times he came so, so close to breaking that promise, even before you two had made it, before you two had even promised yourselves to each other in your UA days.

You pulled the blanket a little tighter around you, staring down at your phone with no real intent in mind as you scrolled. The video playing one of his interview clips (bashfully reciting his “catchphrase,” how cute) cut his voice short as you scrolled past to move on to the next, wincing at the next tweet on your timeline. Him, battered and bloody, as he pulled a child from the aftermath of the battle he’d just won. 

You still need to wrap that new mug you got him as a gift. You still had to listen to him bounce his ideas off of you. You still had to move that hero documentary to the top of the pile. You still—

“Hero Deku saves 30 people, no casualties,” A soft murmuring of the headline shattered the silence, and you smiled to yourself, giggling at all the replies joking of how he threw himself into the fray a little more responsibly and singing their praises.

It’ll be okay.

“Ugh, those reporters are at it again.” 

At your best friend’s exasperated groan, you followed their gaze over to see— ah. 

A small swarm of reporters had worked their way into the fans crowding your boyfriend, their press badges reading every tabloid magazine on this side of the city and prying questions falling off their tongue like poison. From what you could hear over their overlapping clamoring, they were trying to dig into his private life.

Again. 

Deku, the darling of the masses, all sweet smiles and sincere words amidst his strength. Deku, the number one hero with the tightest lock on his private life, which came as a surprise to both everyone and no one.

It was a given, considering his position at the peak of hero society.

It was also a complete shock, considering his tendency to ramble into tangents that had his PR team withering.

Which seemed to help in times like these, now that you thought about it, laughing to yourself as you watched the reporters’ expressions darken in defeat the longer he continued to talk around their questions. Quite a long stretch from stiffly standing on the practice stage at UA all those years ago, frozen from nerves. You idly mused to this to yourself, taking a sip of your drink as you dragged your gaze back over to your best friend.

“Did you choose this cafe because it’s right along Izuku’s patrol route?” They stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh at their obvious intentions.

“Maybe, or it could’ve been just a coincidence.” The next teasing jab was halfway off your tongue when they cut you off before you could give into the urge, the words dying in your throat. “When was the last time you saw him anyway? I know you two live together but Todoroki told me he practically lives at the agency with how swamped they are. Are you okay?”

You purse your lips, staring down at the ice swirling around in your cup as you idly stirred it round. As if the sloshing liquid could whisper the answer you wish you knew.

“...Yeah.” They cocked a brow, and you took another sip to try and delay your time. “It’s not like either of us can help it. Izuku’s number one, so this was bound to happen.”

(The clamoring from the reporters grew ever louder. Persistent, that bunch.)

Their expectant (doubting) gaze was met with your own steady one, and you smiled. Whether it was out of consolation or resignation was anyone’s guess.

“We’re okay, I promise.”

You should really be getting to sleep. 

Really, you should.

At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past several hours, tossing and turning in your bed with nothing but winter-cold sheets and a gnawing loneliness to keep you company. You know you should be sleeping when the clock on the bedside table reads an ungodly hour and there was work to be done in the morning. You know you should be sleeping when the moon disappears from the night sky and leaves you with nothing but the city lights to dimly illuminate the dark room.

You really know you should be sleeping when you hear the front door click open, Izuku shuffling around the apartment to get ready for whatever minimal amount of sleep he’d get before he had to be up and running soon after.

Despite this, sleep still refuses to come, and you don’t bother pretending to be asleep when he slides into bed next to you. Instead, you turn over and curl into his chest, stifling the guilt that bubbles up when he jumps in surprise.

“Something keeping you up?” Oh, he sounds so tired, and part of you wishes you could just make it all go away. The weight of the world rests heavy on his shoulders, and deep down, you wonder if you’re part of that burden. You curl a little closer, as if trying to smother the thoughts that crashed upon you, spilling over the crack in the dam that only widened the more you spoke.

“Jus’ a little lonely, is all.” Your voice is too quiet, brittle, and you pray to every deity that would listen that he would drop it. That he wouldn’t take on yet another burden when he was already carrying Altas’s share of the world.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Of course, the gods are hardly ever so merciful—to them you are just another wishful mortal in the realm of the holy and damned—and Izuku’s hand rests on your cheek with a tenderness that makes you want to cry.

“...Why?” 

The confusion that falls over his expression (gaunt, tired, and God, should you even be doing this right now?) is immediate, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze with yours, like he could find the answer in city lights dancing over your face. His thumb strokes soft patterns over your cheek—as if brushing off the layers you’d built to protect your soul—and you lean into his soft touch with a sigh.

“Why what?”

The words spill from your lips unbidden, your hesitations softened by the comfort of his touch, the sudden drowsiness, and the emotion that near overwhelms you.

“Why do you still try to do everything yourself? When there’s so many people out there, ready to support you?” His breath hitches in shock, but it’s too late to go back now. You reach up to hold the hand cradling your cheek, distantly remembering a time when he was too insecure of his scarred and crooked hands to even hold your hand.

He’s come a long way, indeed.

“I love you, Izuku. I just don’t know if that can hold up against your love for the world.” 

Something in his gaze softens, to your surprise. His smile is even softer.

“What would you do if you’re both?”

“Wh— Izuku—”

He continues, and you listen, raptured by his words spoken into the glow of the blue hour.

“Yes, I know that at the end of the day, peace and safety has to come first, but—” His smile widens into something bashful, a smile that never failed to send butterflies scattering through your heart. “—who says you can’t be right along with them?” 

He bumped his forehead with yours, smiling emerald eyes gazing into your own with such love—dizzying and overpowering and so, so warm. With the steady thrum of your heartbeat matching his, you found yourself falling even deeper once again.

“You know me, I can never compromise when it comes to what’s important to me.”

You laugh, something watery, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, temple, cheek, with a last, smiling kiss on your lips.

“How greedy.” He laughs into your lips, pulling away to hold you closer.

“Just for you.”

There’s so many things you could’ve said, as you watched the rest of the night sky fade into the deep blues of dawn. But, you decide, the comforting silence was best left as is, only broken by one resounding comfort.

It’ll be okay.

“You know, it would’ve been nice to know that you had taken the day off before I had that whole guilt spiral last night.”

“It turned out okay though, didn’t it?” He turned back to flash you that cheeky grin of his, half-hidden by his winter coat and backed by the glow of the setting sun. You just rolled your eyes with a laugh before jogging to catch up to him, slipping you hand out of your pocket to interlace your fingers with his.

“Yeah, it did.” 

The walk was silent as you two strolled down the familiar path, winding down after a whole day spent with each other. It was romantic of him, now that you thought about it, to take the whole Valentine’s Day off just for you. You hummed as you leaned onto him, giddy and content at the thought. 

In love, if you were to be so bold.

(Granted, he had to wear a mask and a cap the entire time to hide from the prying eyes of the public, but you made do.)

The sight of aged, familiar scenery pulled you from your musings, and you tugged at his hand to grab his attention, pointing at the quaint bench surrounded by bare gingko trees.

“Hey, wasn’t this the park where you confessed?” At your words, he froze and glanced over at the familiar scenery, eventually burying his face into his free hand with a groan once the old memories clicked in his head.

“Oh, don’t remind me. It’s still embarrassing to look back on.”

“What? I thought you were cute!” You laughed, nudging him to follow as you led him over to the small park, brushing off the dust to sit on the bench before patting the space next to you. Izuku obliged, and you almost automatically curled into his side, as if by habit.

“Did we really walk all the way here from the station?” His disbelieving tone made you look up at him, his expression one of nostalgic awe, before casting your attention back to the aged scenery, humming in agreement as you idly picked out what’s changed and what’s stayed in the years that have passed.

“I guess we never really forget, huh?”

“I forgot the sunset looked the best from here.”

“I hope you didn’t forget all the memories we made here.” He tore his attention from the sunset to gape down at you, scandalized.

“Of course not!” 

“Really?” He arched a brow at the teasing lilt to your voice and the mischievous grin playing at your lips, “So you didn’t forget accidentally firing an Air Force shot at me when we first met because you were training?”

He buried his face in his hands again with another embarrassed groan.

“I hoped you would forget that, at least!” You just laughed, hugging him closer as if to console him from your teasing. Before long, the atmosphere settled back into a quiet reminiscence, indulging in the nostalgia of memories past in this little park. The silence that was once deafening alone, now softened by the comfort of his presence at your side.

“We’ve made so many memories in this park, huh?” At your soft hum of agreement, he continued. Was his voice shaking? “It wouldn’t hurt to make more, would it?”

“What do you me—”

Your question cut itself short as you saw what he held out to you. 

A little velvet box, sitting open in his hand. You dragged your suddenly watery gaze back up to Izuku, his once bashful smile now wobbly with nerves. 

So familiar in this little park, yet so new.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It was just a small walk down memory lane, the street lights blinking on one by one in the wake of the fiery sunset as you two walked the familiar path together. Yet there was something buzzing anew in the air, humming through your soul as you held out your hand to the sun, admiring the way the gem on your ring finger sparkled in the fading sunset. In the other, you interlaced your fingers with his.

Yeah… 

You caught Izuku’s soft gaze, smiling and in love.

We’ll be okay.

[yangrdn]

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

request | my taglist

there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

~

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

~

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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