#you do really need to see it in motion for the full effect

[xoxoemynn]

A few months ago I was lucky enough to win a raffle prize from @adoptourcrew for a bookbinding from @/brainrotpam. I ask her to do a book binding for The Merry Strays of Lighthouse Sanctuary, which was no small undertaking as the story is just shy of 120K. But hooooly shit, I just got it in the mail this week, and she absolutely outdid herself. Just incredible, outstanding work. I'm in awe.

Here are some pictures!! There's also a video here of Pam flipping through it so you can see the gorgeous edge papers as well, so please check that out if you're at all interested in bookbinding, or even if you just like pretty things because it is so, so pretty. The book is 366 (!!!!) beautiful pages and I'm so, so in love with it.

This story is extremely special to me. It wasn't the first fic I wrote for OFMD, but somehow it always feels like it was. I wanted the setting of the fic to feel the same way the show itself made so many of us feel — a place where we could feel safe, loved, and celebrated for exactly who we are. And somehow, it feels even more poignant to me after the cancellation. We'll always have the show, and this universe will always have the Sanctuary.

This story is the longest thing I've ever written, in a genre that was totally new to me, making it by far the most ambitious project I'd undertaken up to that point. And I wrote it all not too long after assuming I was done with fandom, and any sort of creative writing, for good. Oh, how OFMD changes our best-laid plans.

ANYWAY, feeling so deeply grateful to Pam for doing this, for AOC for coordinating the raffle to raise money for so many amazing orgs while getting fans fun prizes, and for the entire fandom for being such a welcoming, enriching space that has given me so much. I love you all. 💖

[animestsstuff2]

‘Gumi

Prompt: in which your best friend Megumi (Gumi) goes away and you don’t see him again for a really long time…what does he look like again?

Megumi Fushiguro x FemReader

————————————————————————

“Gumi! Wait up!” You whined as you chased the street after Megumi. He was laughing as he ran his hand held high in the air as you puffed trying to keep up.

Your foot tripped not as aware or as coordinated to avoid the crack in the path as Megumi had done before you. Your knees taking the brunt of the stone ground, scraping as you fell onto your stomach. Your tongue caught between teeth as your chin hit it next. You bit down, hard.

Megumi skidded to a stop chest puffing and cheeks bright red as he turned on quick feet. He stalled as he seen you lying there, cries quickly erupting from you which sent his body into action as he bounded over, falling to his own knees. The hard ground having no effect on him as his small hands clambered to your face. Your sniffles and fat tears made him panic as his eyes fell to the red blood around your mouth.

“G-Gumi!” You wailed, stretching your short arms out and wrapping them around his neck as he quickly copied you. His own arms finding their way around your waist and pulling you close.

You always fell. You were always so clumsy but you hadn’t fell this hard before. The palm of your hands were sore, knees stinging and worst of all your tongue throbbed as the taste of a copper penny filled your mouth. Your eyes screwed shut as you cried.

“C’mon gotta go to Tsumiki” He grunted as he stood on wobbly knees. His hands grabbing at you as he lifted you up. Your face was buried into his top, blood and tears staining it as you continued to hiccup and sniffle.

Megumi just wobbled down the street. You both had ran pretty far from his house. His back was getting sore as he continued walking. You were smaller than him but by just a bit and he wasn’t all that big to begin with. You picked your head up, resting it on his shoulder now as you peered out ahead. Your wet eyes focusing on a tall man behind you both. You couldn’t make out his face or what he was saying as he caught up to you both.

“Hey you’re Megumi Fushiguro right?” Your chubby fingers curled into the back of Megumi’s shirt as his own hold tightened around you as the man suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Whats it to you?” He snapped, brows furrowing as he stared up at the white haired stranger. Gojo smirked as he stared down at the boy. The boy who was the spitting image of the man who tried to kill him.

Gojo opened his mouth ready to spew everything he had gone over, explain to this boy his importance, who he was, who he came from and what happened to his father when the sound of your hiccups met his ears. His brows knitted and he crouched down with a pout. His glasses sliding a bit on his nose as he cocked his head.

“Whats wrong with her?” He pointed a finger at your back and Megumi tightened his fingers around you. Megumi’s eyes narrowed as glared at the pointed finger.

“She fell.” He stated not wanting to share any information with this man.

“Is she badly hurt?” Gojo asked as he retracted his hand and scratched his head.

“Shes fine” he snapped “what do you want?”

“Oh right, yeah” Gojo trailed off as you sniffled and shuffled a bit eyes narrowing in on Megumi’s wobbling arms.

“Maybe we should bring her home first before i tell you what i need to tell you” he explained standing back up to his full height.

“I can take her for you?”

Megumi shook his head once more squeezing you tighter as you sniffed again. Your cries had calmed down a bit as you tucked your face back into Megumi’s shoulder.

“Okay. I won’t take her for you” Gojo laughed a bit as he stared at the protective boy. He turned on his heel, looking over his shoulder as he motioned forward with his head.

Megumi took a hesitant step forward as he guided the way back home. He brought you back to your mother who thanked Megumi and went back to the tall man to ask what he wanted, itching to get back to you already.

“So lets talk Megumi”

…

“Suka C’mon I don’t want to be here” you whined as your shoulders sagged inwards. The creepy abandoned house was groaning under its own weight as your friend dragged you further inside.

“Just until we check this room Y/N!” She told you. The flash light she held being the only source of light in the dark house. You groaned as you tightened your hold on her hand, ever since she became part of some stupid occult club.

You stepped lightly eyes honed in on the direction of the flashlight. You hated creepy houses, hated scary movies and yet here you were. Your skin was prickling, hair raising and heart hammering. You didn’t like being anywhere creepy or scary because of what you always saw, those slimy, scary and unnatural creatures that lurked in the shadows of places like this.

Your cheek was sore from where your teeth had been chewing it as you tried desperately to ignore the heavy breathing from the back of the room. You had spotted the creature the minute you entered the place but you couldn’t tell your friend—no, of course you couldn’t tell her then she’d think you were crazy and you didn’t need that, not when your mother already thought so.

Your hands curled around the set of die in your pocket, knuckles cramping and growing more sweaty as you tried so hard to ignore the creature. You entered the last room watching as your friend swished the flashlight around completely oblivious to the creature. You weren’t sure what you were going to do once your friend decided to leave. You weren’t sure if that creature was planning to bother you or not.

Sometimes they did other times they left you alone. Your feet shuffled forward with your friend as she hoked about broken shelves and dusty boards. Your mind tracking back to the first time you had ever seen one of these creatures.

“Y/N don’t be scared it’s okay” Your tear filled eyes looked at the hand outstretched to you before flickering back to the weird worm thing in the corner of the room.

Your brows knitted together as the blurry memory flashed through your mind. Who did that hand belong to?

“Ugh! Nothing! Absolutely nothing” your friend whined as she spun around to face you. “Heh I’m sorry I dragged you out here Y/N”

You forced a smile on your face as you felt the creature enter the room now. Its grotesque noises were making your skin crawl and stomach bubble with sick as you forced a cool face for your friend.

“Its okay! Maybe next time?” You shrugged and she nodded as she made her way past you and back to the door. Your heart leaped in your chest as she headed right in the direction of it. The orange, ugly, slimy thing that resembled some sort of animal? Or maybe a mixture? It wasn’t human anyways.

“Suka!” You yelled loudly, cringing at your volume as she looked over her shoulder “can I hold the flashlight?”

She furrowed her brows at you before shrugging and nodding as she handed you it. You stepped forward now face to face with the creature that was groaning louder, drool hanging from its stretched mouth as you sized it up. Your heart was hammering now as you sucked in a deep breath and threw your hand from your pocket. The die rolled onto the ground and you watched as the number one faced upwards. Your eyes widened in pure disbelief. Asuka’s head immediately spun round to see what had just rolled and as she did you switched the flashlight off.

The dark incase you both and as it did she squealed and you punched landing a straight shot against its face sending it flying back and into the floorboards that groaned loudly under its weight. Asuka’s hands grabbed onto your shoulders as she begged you to turn the flashlight back on. You quickly switched it on, found your die and you both ran out and by the dazed monster.

“I’m so sorry I dragged you in there Y/N!” She wailed as you both stood outside the abandoned house slightly hunched over as you took short breaths.

You shook your head ready to tell her it was okay but as you straightened up your eyes landed on two men behind Asuka. One had bright white hair that stood out against the dark back drop. He was tall with a blindfold on? The other man was slightly shorter. Asuka followed your focused gaze as she turned around to find the men now walking towards you.

“Hey there! You girls okay? We heard screaming” You immediately stepped forward ahead of Asuka as you stuck your hand into your pocket, cupping the dice.

Your chest was telling you something was off both these men had some energy about them. It felt the same as when you used your dice. The same as the creatures you’ve encountered over the years. The white haired man stopped just a few feet away from you and you glanced over at the shorter m—boy, he was just a boy who looked around your age. His eyes darted to the side as he displayed a bored expression.

“Yes we are fine” you answered curtly not wanting to give any information to a stranger.

“You sure? Didn’t see anything weird in there?” He asked, tipping his head slightly. Your brows knitted further together at his tone. He was implying something, was he asking about that creature?.

“Anything weird? What do you mean” You couldn’t help yourself. This was the first time you had met someone who felt like you, felt the same energy you had encountered so many times. This man knew something. You had to know—needed to know.

“Just y’know creepy old house coulda’ met a ghost or a curse…” he trailed off, lips tipping up in a knowing smirk. Your brows raised and your heart skipped a bit.

He knew. He knew exactly what you had always been seeing. You opened your mouth ready to reply, to tell him yes! Yes theres a gross being in that building to ask a billion and one questions about it all when the shorter boy with dark hair stepped forward. His face now stony as he walked by you. Your head followed now focused on him, brows furrowed as you tried to place why he seemed so familiar. He was already by you now though and you turned to follow where he was walking as your eyes seen the orange creature force its way out of the house now groaning louder and moving quicker.

“Let him take care of that. I want to talk to you” Your head snapped back round to the man who was now leaning down. His hands pocketed. You stepped back from the sudden closeness and remembered your friend who was beside you.

“Asuka, a-are you alright?” You asked seeing as she just stared at the tall man.

“U-Um yeah, i—I think it’s getting late, shouldn’t we go?” Her cheeks were red as her eyes darted between him and anywhere else.

“Oh right, um—do you wanna stop at the shop on xxx street?” Your eyes met his again as you stated the street name. A raised brow was all the confirmation you needed.

He walked by you and towards the boy with dark hair whose wolves were ferociously ripping into the creature. You quickly took Asuka’s hand and darted off to get her home so you could meet this man who seemed to know all about the crazy stuff you’d been experiencing.

Stranger danger completely thrown out the window.

[azrielwingspan]

'HIGH' PRAISE (AZRIEL X READER)

I am on a roll damn. Another idea that I jotted down as quick as I could. Enjoy !!

Summary: Mirthroot and alcohol can work in your favour sometimes. You have a very interesting conversation with Azriel.

Warnings : Mention of substances, mild swearing. MDNI !

"You are a saviour Y/N." Mor said taking a hit from the mirthroot joint. The party was in full swing downstairs but you and Mor had found solace in her balcony.

"Don't thank me. Thank the male who was nice enough to give it up." you said taking your turn.

The lightness in your head was making you giddy and talkative. You could feel the slight tingle at your nerve ends, you body feeling detached from reality.

"He probably wanted to get into your pants."

"I know."

Mor let out a bark of laughter at that statement and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes had taken on a reddish tinge and you were sure that yours were probably worse. Your mouth felt numb and you smacked your lips cringing at the dryness of your mouth.

"I need something to drink. And eat. Chocolate cake sounds good. Chocolate cake with a side of yoghurt sounds even better. Add some good wine to it. What do you think?" your mind was moving too fast for your mouth to catch up to.

"It sounds terrible. Let's do it." You and Mor giggled clutching each others hands. That was some really strong mirthroot.

You made your way back to the party hyper focusing on every step being taken. Being high and face planting did not seem like a good combination. Your brain was a different entity, screaming at you to act normal. It was a party for fucks sake. Who acts normal anyways?

Grabbing Mor's hand , the both of you made your way over to the drinks table dodging your way through familiar faces. You refused to speak to anyone until you got your hands on the wine.

After chugging down half a bottle to quench your thirst, you noticed Azriel sitting with another male chatting about something.

"Mor."

"Yeah?"

"I think Azriel and I would make a fantastic couple."

The shattering of glass snapped you out of your hyper focused state for a beat.

It wasn't Mor.

Oh.

Back to hyper focused state.

"You would." she responded , a completely serious expression gracing her face.

"Should we tell him?" you asked, an illegal amount of bravery shooting through your veins. Not a single cell in your body thought this was a bad idea.

A new wave of idiocy hit you. The effects of the wine and mirthroot combined were doing wonders for your sanity right now.

"We should. Come on." This time, Mor was the one dragging you through the crowd, once again dodging everyone.

"Az!"

He turned to look at Mor, his own slightly glazed from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"Y/N thinks---"

The male that was speaking to Azriel stood up and interrupted Mor, asking for a dance. Immediately forgetting why she was there, Mor walked away with him leaving you with Azriel.

"What do you think?" Az asked, his voice husky. Ugh, it was doing strange things to you.

"I think---"

"Are you high?" Az asked, holding in his laugh.

"Az you idiot. You never ask someone who's high if they're high. Way to ruin it!"

"Okay my bad. Sorry. Come here."

He motioned to the space next to him on the couch.

"No. No. I have chocolate cake plans. I just wanted to let you know that I think...and Mor thinks as well...that we would make a fantastic couple. I mean look at you. Look at me. Stunners. Jaw droppingly good looking. What's stopping us?"

Az looked thoroughly amused as you continued defending your statement.

"Y/N." he said stopping you before you went off on a different tangent. "Come here." This time he motioned to his lap.

Yeah chocolate cake could wait.

You went over and sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping you arms around his shoulders while his hands found their place on your hips.

"Tomorrow, I want you to come to me and tell me the same thing. Then we'll see how well this fantastic couple thing works out yeah?"

He touched his forehead to yours , the affectionate gesture bringing a grin to your face.

"Okay."

"Good girl. Now come on let's get you some chocolate cake."

"Fantastic."

[ghcstpyre]

john wick x f!reader

cw: cis female reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jw, sub!reader, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, praise kink. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i am in a Mood™️ and was inspired to try and write a quick piece. also yes I am procrastinating everything because of animal crossing so this is also to try and get back into the swing of writing lol. enjoy!

Your cheek squished against the flat, cool surface of the rich mahogany desk. Sometime after settling down in John's private library with your usual dark fantasy romance and John following not long after to have a nosey at what you'd been reading, you'd ended up bent over the nearest desk with your skirt yanked up and bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. Thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, keeping your willing body right where he needed it. You were doing your best to be quiet, as per his orders, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each delicious inch he pushed inside you.

“John…” You whined, wiggling your hips under his iron hold in an attempt to coax his cock further inside you.

This only had John doubling his grip on you. The fingers that held your hips dug in further, hard enough to bruise and leave little crimson crescent moons in your skin. The pain didn't deter you though. It only had that unsatisfied ache pulsing within your centre flaring up tenfold.

“Shush, baby,” John's voice was low and gravelly and sent a thrill rushing down your spine. Really, it was almost pathetic how much of an effect just his voice had on you. “I told you to be quiet. You sure you can do that for me?”

He leaned over, pressing his muscled slab of a body against your back to nip at your earlobe. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper of need, just barely succeeding, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

John’s stubble grazed you and his long, dark hair tickled your skin as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and the weight of him lifted off of you. Whether it was out of mercy or pity - or both - John pushed the full length of his cock inside you in one swift motion. It took everything you had to not cry out in pleasure and pain as his tip kissed your cervix, filling you completely.

He watched as you struggled to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze heavy enough that you could practically feel it pinning you down to the desk just as effectively as his meaty hands. Seeing you in such a state of utter need while also being desperate to obey had his length throbbing inside you.

John set an unbearably slow pace, slow enough that it had you practically crawling out of your own skin. You so desperately wanted - no, needed him to to just fuck you, but instead it seemed he was determined to make sure you felt every vein and every inch, right up to the ridge where his swollen pink head met his shaft.

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

All you could do was lay there and take it without protest, however he wanted to give it to you. Your hands white knuckled the edge of the desk in front of you, serving as your anchor as you fought tooth and nail to keep any sounds of pleasure trapped behind your teeth. You knew that disobedience would result in punishment and you didn't really feel like being punished and degraded right now.

Right now, you wanted to be showered with praise. You wanted to be adored.

“You're being such a good girl for me. You want more?” He asked, relinquishing the vice grip he had on your hips in favour of smoothing those large, rough palms over the meat of your ass.

You didn't get a chance to nod. John was already parting your cheeks and chuckling deeply at the sight of his shaft, half buried in your soaking cunt and glistening with your slick arousal while the rest of it slowly dripped down your thighs.

“Look how wet you are for me. Of course you want more; you've already soaked my cock.”

With one hand he gripped one of your cheeks, while the other snaked up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulled on the strands, forcing you to lift your head up and prop your upper body up on your elbows and forearms as his hips finally, finally picked up the pace.

If you weren't struggling to stay quiet before, you sure as hell were now. John knew how you liked to be rocked, what the perfect angle was to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Tasting the tang of iron on your tongue you stopped biting your lip. You'd been so focused on keeping any noise at bay you hadn't even registered how hard your teeth were clamping down on the soft flesh while John pumped his huge cock in and out of you.

“You're doing so well for me baby, so well. Just a bit more and I'll - ngh - let you cum. I want to enjoy this sweet pussy a little longer.”

God, if his dick didn't push you over the edge then his words might just do it. Knowing that such a sweet, gentle man had the capacity to groan out words so filthy made that sick little part of you sing with glee.

The sounds of your rapid breaths mixed with his grunts of pleasure and skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls and echoed through the rows of bookcases filling John's library. Your legs began to shake as that familiar heat began coiling low in your abdomen. Sensing your building need, John let go of your hair and ass cheek to lean that glorious weight over you once again, propped up on one thick forearm while his other hand moved between your trembling legs to rub your neglected clit.

You keened into his heavenly touch and you couldn't stop a strangled little cry from escaping. You were quick to cut it off however, dropping your head to press your treacherous mouth into the inside of your elbow to muffle the noise. 

“That's my girl. You've been so good, do you want to cum? You want to cum for me? You want to be loud?” John's voice was practically dripping with honey as he whispered in your ear.

All you could do was lift your head again, look at him over your shoulder and nod pathetically while you rocked your hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Cum.” He ordered, slamming into you with his fingers working relentlessly on your clit beneath you. “Cum on my cock baby. Scream for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

Your cries and sobs of pleasure drowned out anything else as you came, your pussy gushing over his length and thighs and the wooden floor beneath your feet while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. John wasn't too far behind, pressing his chest flush against your back to suck a dark bruise into the crook of your neck while he thrusted into you one, two, three more times, and then filled you with his seed with a loud, long groan.

Both of you stayed like that for a short while, catching your breath and begging to sober up from the lust-addled haze you were in just moments ago. Eventually, John lifted his weight from you and pulled out, letting his cum leak from your entrance. He took a few moments to run his hands up and down your back, soothing you as you came down from the high.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to its usual deep, gentle lilt.

Somehow you managed to stand up and turn around to face him on your shaky legs. John was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you steady. You were all too grateful, immediately leaning your weight against him and letting out a content sigh.

“Yeah. More than okay, I feel amazing.” You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy with happiness, and then nuzzled your face into his broad chest.

John chuckled, the baritone sound rumbling from within. “Good.” With a swift motion he scooped you up into his arms to carry you bridal style towards the door to the library. “Because I've not quite had my fill of you just yet.”

divider by @/strangergraphics

[strljaem]

“i want my wisdom tooth back”

“ah wah ma wizum toof bah”

It was early Saturday morning, and I was sweating buckets in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car. Jaemin glanced at me as we stopped at a red light, his hand finding mine. "It's gonna be fine," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "You're just having your wisdom teeth out, it's not like they're removing your actual wisdom."

I didn't laugh at his joke, which probably scared him a little, but I was too nervous to even smile. I was about to have two wisdom teeth pulled, and the thought of sharp objects in my mouth was not my idea of a fun weekend. Jaemin drove on, his soothing voice trying to calm me down with stories about the latest drama in his gaming guild. I think he even mentioned something about his cat getting stuck in a shoebox, but I was too focused on the upcoming appointment to really pay attention.

The dentist's office was everything you'd expect: sterile, white, and full of equipment that looked like medieval torture devices. Jaemin led me to the front counter, where a cheerful nurse with glasses perched on her nose asked for my name. I squeaked out my name, and she nodded, telling us to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.

I sat down on a hard plastic chair, clutching Jaemin's hand like it was my only lifeline. He caressed my fingers and smiled at me, his grin warm and reassuring. "You're doing great," he said. "Just remember to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

It wasn't long before the doctor called my name. Jaemin and I stood up together, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked into the treatment room. The doctor was a tall man with a big smile. He looked at Jaemin and then at me. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes," I replied, my voice trembling.

The doctor chuckled and gestured for me to sit in the dentist's chair. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," he said, motioning for me to lean back. The nurse came in, and they began to prepare for the procedure. There was some kind of mask, a lot of beeping equipment, and a tray full of shiny, terrifying tools. I was having second thoughts about this whole thing, but Jaemin was standing right beside me, holding my hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb.

The doctor adjusted the mask over my nose and mouth and said, "This is just laughing gas. You'll be asleep for a bit, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." I nodded, trying to stay calm as the gas started to take effect. Jaemin pulled out his phone and started recording, which, looking back, was a little mean, but hey, it's not every day you get to see your significant other on laughing gas.

Everything started to get a little fuzzy, and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Jaemin's reassuring smile.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like I was on a cloud made of cotton candy. Jaemin was still there, holding my hand and watching me with a smirk on his face. I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I fell back into the chair.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice all slurred and groggy.

Jaemin chuckled. "You're at the dentist. You just had your wisdom teeth out, remember?"

I blinked at him, my eyes heavy and unfocused. "You're so handsome," I said, my voice dreamy and totally without a filter.

The doctor and nurse laughed, and Jaemin just shook his head, his cheeks turning a little red. "Thanks," he said, helping me to sit up carefully. "Let's get you to the car, sleepyhead."

He walked me out to the parking lot, his arm around my waist to keep me steady. I was still in a daze, but at least I had my handsome boyfriend to guide me. He helped me into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he said as he started the car.

I groaned, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls. "I need a smoothie," I mumbled.

Jaemin grinned. "Smoothie it is," he said, and off we went, my wisdom teeth somewhere in a biohazard bag, but my heart firmly in the hands of the sweetest boyfriend ever.

Jaemin drove carefully out of the parking lot, glancing over at me every few moments to make sure I wasn't about to topple over. My head was lolling a bit, and my cheeks were swollen like a chipmunk's. The gauze in my mouth felt weird, and my brain was still foggy from the anesthesia.

As we turned onto the main road, I suddenly had a thought. It seemed important, like one of those random ideas that feels like a breakthrough even though it's completely silly. I turned to Jaemin, my words garbled and slow because of the gauze.

"I want my wisdom tooth back," I mumbled, trying to sound serious, but it came out more like, "Ah wah ma wizum toof bah."

Jaemin looked at me, puzzled at first, then he burst out laughing. "What?" he asked, shaking his head. "What are you going to do with your wisdom tooth?"

I tried to explain, but the gauze and the anesthetic made everything difficult. "I... I just want it... you know, like a trophy," I slurred, feeling oddly proud of the idea.

Jaemin was still laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm pretty sure the dentist keeps those," he said, patting my shoulder. "Trust me, you don't want it back."

I groaned, feeling a bit disappointed. "But... but... it's mine," I insisted, though it sounded more like, "Bah... bah... izz mine."

Jaemin just laughed harder, his hand squeezing my shoulder as he drove. "We'll get you a nice smoothie, how about that? It's way better than a bloody tooth."

I grumbled something unintelligible, but even in my dazed state, I could tell his laughter was infectious. The rest of the drive was filled with Jaemin chuckling at my silly, half-conscious remarks about reclaiming my wisdom tooth, while I occasionally moaned in exaggerated despair.

In the end, I might not have gotten my tooth back, but I definitely got the best care and a whole lot of laughter from the sweetest guy I knew. Maybe I'd settle for a smoothie and some ice cream, as long as Jaemin was there to share them with me.

[nichuuu]

Polyamorous - 1: Own

Word count: 4k+ Thank you to @gangplanksorenji for proofreading & editing and @capslocked for the wonderful tips. Luv you guys < 3

Fuck. 

The expletive leaves your mouth right as Hanni’s tongue makes contact against the base of your shaft. She slides up, licking you up from base to tip. It was inane of you to think that the first thing a global icon like Pham Hanni would want to do after a long week was to take a shower, and you only realised this a second after Hanni dropped down to her knees and undid the string of your sweatpants, the former happening a meagre few seconds after she’d entered. Now here she is, her skin still glistening with sweat from her dance practice earlier as she lathers your shaft in spit. 

“Hello.” A simple greeting contrasts the intricate movements of her tongue, the one that swirled and curled around your shaft, slathering every inch of it in glossy, gooey spit. Her voice, her tone—every vowel, every consonant, every word (down to the last syllable), drips with lust. Well she’s needy today, you muse internally. As soon as she stepped through your apartment door, her hands were already on your waistband and chest, forcing the door shut with your body. The wantonness was ever so apparent in those eyes—the ones that looked up at you as she took her time to tease you. Through the jolts of pleasure that shoot up your spine, you manage a strained hey. 

A playful hand snakes up, grabs you by the balls. Her eyes gleam. 

“You’re full,” she comments. The hand begins a gentle massage of your low hanging fruits. “Been holding it in? To unload inside of you, is what you really want to say. Instead, what comes out is just a simple, raspy yep. The electricity in your veins overrides your brain’s functions, rendering you unable to translate your thoughts into words. The source of this problem is, of course, Hanni, but it's not as if she already knew the effect she had on you; the give away was the look of mischief on her face as her small hand wraps itself around your shaft, pumping with slow, teasing strokes as she let her breath linger around the head of your dick. The next question comes after she delivers a small kiss to your member: How long?

As her lips wrap themselves around you, your hands balled into fists against the door. She expects an answer out of you, but there isn’t much room for thinking when there’s a tight seal around your twitching shaft. For a moment, you think about just grabbing on tight to her skull and fucking her face right there and there. Why couldn’t you? Your shaft was already halfway into her mouth, your hands just centimetres away from her head, a simple motion—Reach forward, grip, thrust—was all you needed. But the control that Hanni has over you liquifies that desire, melting it into nothing but a puddle of a notion in your mind. 

“A-A week,” you miraculously manage to reply. Her eyebrows raise, your shaft sliding right back out of her mouth. The twitching meat rests against her cheek as she stares up at you. 

“A week?” Her lips pout as she speaks. You want those pouty, plump lips to shower your cock with kisses so badly. “You must have,” she slaps your head against the soft flesh on her face, “quite the load for me then.”

If she keeps this up, you have a feeling that the load she’ll get will be a lot bigger than what she expected. Of course, you keep this to yourself. You find it congenial to watch as she pumps your cock with your head resting against her cheek. 

“You know what I really want?” It’s a rhetorical question from her really. You knew exactly what she expected from the moment your dick came out of your underwear; I wanna bounce on your dick, I wanna take you in my ass, I want you to fuck me—All variations of the simple message: Fucking ravish me with your cock.

You know what she wanted, down to the last minute detail. Yet you shake your head. This is more than a simple test of your knowledge on her—it’s a game, a game to see who will follow who’s lead. Right now, it is Hanni who is in charge, this unspoken agreement made between the both of you from the moment she took your cock in her mouth. 

She rises from her knees, takes a step closer. Whispers, “I want you to fucking fill me.”

That’s a new one.

In your opinion, the cussing in the sentence was a bit excessive, but it doesn’t take away from the sheer intensity of the lust that bleeds through her words. Then she drags you by the cock, callous in her mannerism as she pulls you towards the couch. Barely ten minutes after she entered your apartment and she’s already getting right to it, and you are genuinely surprised that she didn’t begin her attempts to draw a thick load out of you at the door.

She tosses you onto the couch, then quickly takes her position between your legs. You have to remind yourself to breathe when those lips take you back into her hot, wet mouth; you force yourself to not break right there and then as she draws upwards with her lips and lets them slide over the head of your shaft. She was playing with you, toying with the rock hard meat between your legs to let the blood flow to all the right parts of your body. All you can do is let out a soft drawl—Fuck Hanni—as she slowly kisses up your shaft, doing what you wished she would do while you were still standing at the door. Her lips make contact with your dick more times than you can count. Her eyes sparkle, the corners of her lips upturned into an innocent smile. She’s intentionally breathing a little harder than usual, letting her breath tingle the head of your cock, 

The wink she gives you tells you that she’s about to take you for a ride. She doesn’t disappoint, the groan that rips through your throat being the sordid tell that she’s off to a great start. She lets her lips travel down your length—further and further till she realises that she can’t go down anymore, retraces her steps, goes down again. All of this is rinsed and repeated (and it isn’t done slowly, mind you) as drool accumulates on your cock, the fervent gurgling that emulates from the depths of Hanni’s throat telling you that she’s perfectly fine the way she is. 

Then she adds her hand, fingers twisting around your slick dick in a corkscrew motion: pumping, stroking, fucking milking you to the best of her ability. She’s pushing you past your limits, overwhelming you with all the sensations she would wreak upon you with what she had available. Your first thought was to grab her by the wrist, pump your shaft even faster with those slender fingers, but then she reads your mind, doing it for you better and faster than you could ever imagine. It slides up and down, up and down together with her lips, spit smiling out between the gaps between her fingers. 

Hanni had given you head before (not that it did anything to blunt the utter pleasure that she was able to impart on your body) and it was always done in earnest. She makes it seem so effortless, smooth in her movements and consistent in speed. Many nights you’d receive head from her just like this, but the sight of that jet-black lock of hair bobbing between your legs, the sound of the lewd gurgling and slurping, the feel of that tight seal around your cock that was her lips… None of it ever got old. 

She kept it so fresh, so… Well, not exactly clean.

Your hand finds itself on the top of her head, the familiar motion of pushing down on it each time she bottoms out executed as you always did. Now, it should be noted that Hanni’s a very thorough person. When she cleans, she cleans thoroughly. When she examines, she examines thoroughly. And now, when she sucks dick, she sucks it thoroughly. Her mouth was warm, tight and so very wet. It slicked your shaft with spit, leaving a glistening trail that was repainted and retraced with even more of her saliva, plump pink lips cramming in every bit of cock that she could fit into that hot little mouth, and by god could take you in. 

Like you said—She was so very thorough. 

Her eyes—those dark brown orbs that reflected nothing but lust—stay trained on you, beseeching you to keep your attention on her as she slobbered on your shaft. Her tongue cushions your base, the top of her mouth directing your cock into her throat. She moves deftly, taking you in and out of that mouth with measure, fervent and pace. Hungry is your initial word to describe her, but then it quickly changes to needy, then to fervour. Finally, you settle on Impatient, because that was the best way to describe her style. 

She was always impatient. Her style was never a gradual ramp up in pace, but rather “fast and stay fast”. The word “”slow” didn’t exist in Hanni’s books, nor did the word “patience” (though you personally wished that they would sometimes). Every motion had to be done quickly and swiftly. There was no room for child’s play. Yes, she could tease. Yes, she could take her time if she really wanted to.  But there really was no need for all of that at the moment, not when she’s bobbing her head between your legs with such gusto.

The black locks bob rhythmically between your spread thighs (there’s no cessation to this allegro) as she takes your shaft in and out of the wet, warm cavern of her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh in random patterns, each entry and exit into her lips sending spikes of pleasure from your crotch to the rest of your body. Every so often, a moan would emit from the depths of her throat, sending pleasant vibrations down your shaft and up your spine. You grunted, groaned and sighed; she gurgled, gagged (every now and then) and hummed. The electricity that courses throughout your body is breathtaking. Now you start to think of a word to describe this feeling.

Heaven. Yeah, that was the word to describe it.

You never realise that your eyes closed themselves, but they snap open when your shaft leaves her mouth with a slick, wet pop. For a second, you thought that it was over. Then you realise that you’re far from callow when it comes to dealing with Hanni, and that she’s probably about to escalate things to another level. You’re only proven right when she wipes the spit from the corners of her mouth and rises to her feet. 

As she strips, you start to take back what you said about Hanni being impatient. To be clear, she was impatient a good majority of the time. Now however, she seemed to be in the mood for a little bit of slow play. Her baggy shirt slowly rises, the hem going past her waist, then her belly button—continues painfully slowly till you see the elastic band of the sports bra that she has on. Then with a grin, she slings it off her body. Her pants are next, displacing in the opposite direction as her shirt at the same, painfully slow rate. Bit by bit, layer by layer, her garments slowly come undone. It drove you to the brink of delarity. If it were up to you, you’d have stripped her, got her on her back with her knees against her shoulders and railed her till you both came in a sweaty heap–and she would’ve let you do just that, but you didn’t.

With a very slight sashay in her hips, she saunters over. She straddles you, thighs on either side of you as she settles down. Your cock nestled snugly in the space between those plump asscheeks, the ones that you lightly spank, then lightly squeeze. Now the formalities come back into play; her lips hover over yours for a brief second before they gently drop to meet yours. She kisses you, softly, gently. For a moment (and just that moment), you forget that she was creating a sloppy mess between your legs just mere minutes ago.

Her hand—It snakes through your hair, slides down to your face, cups if for a second. Then the other slithers up your chest, stopping right at the collar before it gently tugs at your shirt—Take it off, she’s telling you. 

Your hand—Lingers on the firm flesh of her asscheeks for just a moment more, then slides over to the hem of your shirt. The other one slips in, hoisting the thin fabric up and over your head. Then they skate up her sweat-slicked, tight body. They travel up in the same direction and slow fashion of her shirt just moments ago: slowly rising, going past her waist, then her belly button–Continues painfully slowly till you reach those soft, ample mounds that sit proudly atop of her chest. 

Then they squeeze.

Her body—It jolts as her breasts are given the attention they long for, a soft sigh leaving her lips. It leans forward ever so slightly, receives kisses from you on the jaw, then the neck. As it flushes against you, she whispers into your ear, “I’ve been waiting for this…”

Your thumb finds the sensitive nub on her opening. “Oh yea?”

“In the dorm…” she trails off for a moment when your thumb begins to rub her clit in small, circular motions, but then she gets back on track, “I always think about riding you till my legs give out.”

You could picture it clearly in your head: Hanni, curled up under her covers in the dorm, her hand between her flushed thighs and another over her mouth as she fingers herself. She moans your name silently, careful not to disturb the others with her raunchy fantasies. 

“What else do you think about?” You’re curious to know more.  

She falls silent for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your thumb entertaining her clit for just a second, then she says, you.

There it is: the shameless confession. For the record, you knew that she’d get naughty with herself while she was away from you, she sent you videos—that you could only view once—of her playing with herself in the bathtub of her dorm before. Sometimes, an exclusive video comes in; her leg would be on the bathroom counter, her phone in her right hand while the left works itself between her legs. Quietly and just for the camera, she’d moan your name, and it turns you the fuck on.

“And what exactly do you think of when you think of me?” you press. 

Another moment of silence. The admissions spew forth: I think about you folding me in half and fucking me. I think about you bending me over the kitchen counter. I think about you pinning me against the wall. I think about—

She would’ve gone on forever if it didn’t shut her up with a kiss. You consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she imagines all of this while dancing on stage in front of millions of fans, or when she’s in the practice studio learning the steps to the next big hit that they’re about to comeback with. The endless possibilities deluge your mind as you start bringing your kisses down to her jaw, then to her neck.

It's when your lips reach her collar bone that Hanni finally decides to let those hands snake down and grasp on to your cock. It’s when your sigh washes up against her skin that she raises herself up on her knees. She lines you up with her slit, letting you feel the heat of her womanhood as she gently grinds her pussy against the head.

When she sinks down, you feel like blacking out. The tightness, the heat… Fuck, you couldn’t even get started on how wet she is. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her small waist, a sharp exhale forced out of your lungs like a bullet; a guttural moan for Hanni. You’re in perdition barely a second after you get inside of her, and she’s sure as hell not giving you time to adjust. 

Then she’s riding you, fast and hard. Her hands grip your shoulders, her head tilted back. She barely gave you time to adjust to the tightness of the flesh around your cock before she’s moaning like her life depends on it. Your name—amongst the expletives and exclamations that tumble out of her mouth—rings clear in your ears, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you in place like her frenzied movements would make you start moving away. 

Then for the next few minutes, it’s just fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck that punctuates each entrance, the same lips that delivered the sloppiest of blowjobs just minutes prior parting to let such filth fly forth without much of a filter. She crushes those same lips with yours, kissing you vehemently, hungrily. You think for a second about involving some tongue, but that plan quickly goes to waste when her lips tear away from yours to let out another stream of gasps. 

She was so hot, so utterly tight and wet around your cock, her hips and thighs moving with such perfect rhythm that it was quite literally breath stealing. In the sheer intensity of it all, your hands stayed on her hips, but she grasps your left hand and brings it to a needy, bouncing breast, her fingers pulling yours around her tight nipple, closing around it and squeezing it, clutching the needy, wanton flesh and eliciting a sigh from her lips. She brings your other hand to her face, making you cup it in a tender, ginger fashion that heavily juxtaposes the raw sex that was happening in the midst of it. In a way, it was cute, but only a little. 

In the midst of the overwhelming intensity, you find her right breast, catch it mid bounce and send it straight into your mouth. What left Hanni’s mouth was not exactly a moan, but rather a mewl, one that was high-pitched and so erotic that you wished that you were recording this. Moan louder for me, Hanni is what you wish you could tell her while your mouth sucks on her tit, but alas, one mouth can only handle one thing at a time. You settle with the sighs and cries that make her sweaty chest vibrate ever so slightly, content with the way her voice was getting more and more hoarse from moaning by the second. 

She grips you–roughly–on the back of your head, fingernails digging into your skull as she forces your face deeper into her cute little chest. She’s trying desperately, licentiously, to push her mound deeper into your mouth. Then the other hand slinked to your neck, pushing it towards her while she let an even louder cry rip through the air. You ponder on being playful–deliver a small nibble to the flesh that had been impelled into your jaws, or maybe suck on it hard enough to mark it. But when the oh fuck I want to touch myself leaves her mouth, you decide to divert your attention to back to her clit. Your thumb takes its original position, the pad of your finger swirling it in just the right way to make the flesh around you tighten.

When your jaw gets tired, you let the glistening tit pop out of your mouth. “Fuck Hanni,” you decide to quip, “you’re taking this cock so well.”

Her eyes tear away from the ceiling—which she’d been staring at for the past minute or so—to lock on you. Then in a raspy, airy drawl, she replies—This pussy was made to take your cock.

She could be quippy when she wanted to, and she could definitely be overtly lecherous when she desired to. In this case, she’s a combination of both. The slight tinge of haughtiness in her voice tells you: This cock is mine and mine alone, and I’m gonna ride it till I cum. Then there was the generous dash of want in that honey-like voice that says: I love this cock, I love the way it fills me up and stretches me out. It’s gonna make me cum so fucking hard. 

A woman of multitudes is what she is, and sex only brings out a few of her many layers. As she bounces atop of you, taking your cock in and out of her hot, slick pussy while she moans and gasps and sighs, you realise how content you are with seeing this wanton, needy and dominant side of her. And as she starts going down on you harder and faster, you come to realise how hot this whole situation is. 

Cause picture it this way: A cute, bubbly and pretty Hanni, bouncing relentlessly on your rock hard length that’s slicked with her spit and juices, moaning fervently as she rides you like you’re one of her sex toys, her tits bouncing atop her chest and her thighs quivering around you. It was one of those nights that she felt like being in control, one of those nights where she really just wanted to ride out all of her pent up stress and frustration as she cries, I own this fucking cock. You were more than happy to be her outlet. 

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s all she Hanni can manage as she starts going even faster, crashing down on you even harder. Her hands slip off your body, reaching behind her back and grabbing on to her ankles. She’s relying on her knees to hoist herself up now, and counting on your hands to hold her steady while she fucks herself on your cock. You’re relying on your self control to hold you back from cumming at the titillating sight. 

Her body—curves deliciously in this new position, her flat, toned tummy arching towards you and her head tipping back just slightly past her feet. She feels tighter, hotter, (and somehow) wetter around your cock, soft ‘ah’s floating out from that pretty little mouth. She’s playing with you once more, testing the waters to see what it’ll take to drive you feral. “You like my body don’t you? You’re… You’re so fucking turned on by this fucking body, right?”

“God yes.” 

“You wanna fucking ruin it so bad, huh?” She’s looking you dead in the eye. “Wanna get me on my back,” she bends back further, “and shove this thick fucking cock into this tight fuckdoll don’t you?”

You contemplate just hoisting her up into the air and making her ride you while you are standing, picturing the sight of her face dropping and rising in front of your face as the full length of your shaft spears deep into her tight and wet walls. But when… 

“But when” what?

Up till this point, there was always something stopping you from doing as you pleased. Now however, you couldn’t find anything to stop you from succumbing to your desires–and so you do, scooping your hands beneath that plump ass and rising to your feet. 

“H-Hey!” she yelps in surprise as she’s hoisted into the air. She was a lot heavier than she looked

“What’s wrong?” you challenged, adjusting your grip on her small frame to offer her better support. “Can’t own this cock while you’re standing up?”

She recognises the challenge, straightens her back before you. 

“I can own this cock in any position.” Her tone is unwavering, her ass shifting slightly in your grasp as her legs wrap themselves around you. A dark look crosses her face in the form of a bright grin. With the assistance of gravity, she lets herself fall slightly, rock hard meat driving straight up her hot, wet cunt. The wide-eyed, mouth agape complexion of surprise takes her face as she’s filled to the brim. A shrill, breathy cry shoots out from her chest; it’s music to your ears as you start thrusting upwards and into her waiting walls, the same ones that squeeze down harder around you as the head of your cock starts to knock against her cervix. 

Fuck, is all she can manage to get out before she’s throwing herself down onto your cock. She takes you in—down to the hilt, balls deep—hard and fast, not sparing a single second to catch her breath. Her moans are fragmented, split into different tones as she rises and falls on your dick—sometimes passionate and shrill, other times deep and guttural. She’s maximising her output energy for more pleasure, converting that pleasure into energy that powers the sinful rock of her hips each time she takes you in. Then she’s screaming: Oh god, Oh my fucking god, crying: You’re so deep. I can’t fucking take it!, gasping: You’re gonna–I’m gonna–Oh fuck I’m…

But it’s the declaration that really gets you, the one where she screams into your ear: Oh fuck, I’m cumming!

Just like that, Pham Hanni comes undone as she cums. The orgasm that cuts through her body is terrifyingly violent, but oh-so-wonderful to watch as tight, hot flesh spasms around your cock and that pretty little body convulses in your arms. For beautiful seconds, she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your arms, breathing heavily. You take that moment of vulnerability to get her on her back, spreading her flushed, trembling thighs and pumping into her body once again. She lets you do that—not that she could fight it in her current state—as she wraps her arms back around your neck and whispers, “Be good… Fill me.”

Then nothing else matters for the next few minutes. Only Hanni’s body exists in the long minutes where you fervently pump your shaft between her legs. She looks so good beneath you, her pussy swallowing your cock whole and her tits spilling out through the gaps of your fingers because of how hard you’re holding on to them. Through her soft, horse moans, she eggs you on: Come on baby, give me that nice big load… Cum in me then fuck it deep inside of me. You know you want to. 

Then she pulls you close, breathing on your ear, imploring you, “Please, please, please cum inside your little fuckdoll… I want it so bad.”

And so you do—burying yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting the pleasure overwhelm you. Your cock pulsates as it fills with semen before spurting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside Hanni’s tight, grasping pussy. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed.

After you empty yourself inside her you withdraw your still stiff, cum-slick cock halfway out of her body before thrusting back in, letting your cock stir the load inside her, saturating her walls, making her already drenched and dripping pussy even more of a sloppy mess. She lets little sighs of pleasure and contentment leave her lips as you take your liberties with her hole, relishing the warm wetness of your cum inside her as you take your last few thrusts into her body, pushing the thick load that she’d been waiting for deep into her. 

You only ever stop moving after your arms give out. You crash atop of her, your ragged breaths hardly in sync with hers as you feel the soreness begin to creep up from your feet to your thighs. Softly, gently, she nuzzles herself into the crook of your neck and breathes, thank you.

You raise your head just enough so that your mouth is next to her ear. “Welcome back.”

[xxsabitoxx]

Showering / Kinktober Side Quest 3… kinda

Aged up! Megumi x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Fluff with intimate moments / not really sexual but ya know… still fun :)

You shower with your boyfriend quite regularly. Especially after you return bloody and worn from missions. Whether it's a mission only one of you went on or a mission you shared, it doesn't matter how tired you both are, you're climbing into that shower together to take care of each other.

"Turn around." Megumi's voice is thick with exhaustion, motioning you to spin so your back faces him. You do as you're told, forehead pressed to the cold tile wall as Megumi starts to gingerly scrub your bloodied back. "I'll put a salve on it when we're done. It's not too bad, but it will be irritating if I don't wrap it." This time, you had taken the brunt of the damage.

Megumi hated it, to say the least.

“Can’t it wait for morning?” You mumble, eyes closed as you focus on how good it feels when he passes the soft cloth over your bruised shoulders. “No.” And his tone his final, no room for any retaliation. You always put up a fight, it got on his nerves most of the time but… he always won.

“Fine” you whined, you pressed your cheek into the cool tile now, your face feeling warm from a mix of the steam and Megumi’s gentle touch. His fingers were delicate as they moved lower.

Megumi’s hands are nimble, scrubbing your lower back with such tenderness it only made your face feel warmer. Intimacy like this with your typically cold and stoic boyfriend always sent your heart into a flurry. You knew him long enough to know he had this side, a side reserved only for you.

But that didn’t make you any less flustered, it never ceased to give you butterflies. That was another thing you utterly adored about him, despite being together for years at this point, your heart still skipped a beat when you saw him.

“Ouch.” You hissed, he was pressing the warm cloth over a harsh scrape on your hip. “Sorry.” His tone was slightly strained, he couldn’t stand seeing you in pain. Even on days where you had headaches or just weren’t feeling great, it made his chest tight. He never wanted you to feel these things, even if they were naturally occurring. You always teased him for it.

“…s’okay Meg.” You sighed as he finished up on that one area. “I’m almost done, I swear.” He sighed, dropping to a crouch to deal with the damage that had even effected your right ass cheek. “Poor baby.” He murmured as he used the cloth to gentle clean the skin. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Of all places to get injured, your ass wasn’t ideal.

“Don’t make me blush, Gumi.” You drawled the rest of his name, always alternating between the two nicknames but rarely saying his full name. “Sorry.” He teased, easing the stress in your heart as his tone turned a little light. When he was done, he placed a gentle kiss on the small of your back, trying not to smirk when you visibly shivered. "Can't help it."

You pushed off of the tile, turning as Megumi stood to his full height once more. You wasted no time wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his wet chest. “We still need to clean up.” He murmured softly as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head. “We already did.” You mumble back, eyes closed as you listened to the steady thump of his heart.

“I cleaned your cuts and scrapes, we still need to clean your body.” Megumi sighed, letting his hands rest on your hips because he didn’t want to hurt your already wounded backside. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" you knew his answer, maybe that was why you hugged him a little harder. "No, because you'll fall asleep standing if we do."

You sighed, grumbling softly as you pulled away from him to grab your body wash. "Stop pouting." Megumi's tone was teasing, his pretty eyes lidded with exhaustion. He still needed to bandage your back, which was the only thing keeping him from falling asleep along with you. "No" you mumbled, pouring the liquid out to begin gingerly scrubbing your sore body.

This angry act stood no chance against Megumi's soft "Can you wash me?". You sighed, turning to him with a pout still present on your lips. "Of course, I can, Gumi." He smiled, pulling your soapy body close to his as you started to scrub his arms. "Can't really wash you when you hold me like this, Gumi." there was a hint of laughter in your tone, one that made Megumi hold you a little tighter. "You're doing just fine."

Green eyes locked on your hand, watching your fingers massage his skin until suds appear. "Oh, whatever." You worked diligently, trying to ignore the way your back burned as the hot water ran over your marred skin. It took longer than necessary, but you were turning off the water and stepping out of the shower finally.

Megumi's hands still held a tenderness as he used a towel to slowly pat your back dry, uttering soft apologies when he heard your breathing stutter. "you can lay on the bed and I'll patch you up." You nodded, eyes closed as you walked from the bathroom to your bedroom. You managed to get a pair of underwear out of your dresser before flopping onto your plush mattress to wait for Megumi.

He entered the room a few minutes later, setting the medical supplies on your nightstand before going to get underwear and pajamas. No words were spoken, mostly because Megumi assumed you were passed out by now. You were close to it at that point, inhaling the comforting scent of your blankets as the bed dipped.

He worked with care, smiling when you shuddered in relief as the healing salve was spread on your broken skin. Despite the ache in his bones, his body begging him to sleep, he didn't rush a single step of the first aid process. He was comforted by your gentle breathing as he cut the gauze and secured it with medical tape. You had managed to fall asleep once your back was finally relieved of pain.

Which meant Megumi did everything right. That was enough for him as he flicked off the lights, crawling under the blankets and pulling them up over the both of you carefully. "Good night." He basically slurred out, exhaustion already making him relax into a blissful sleep.

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[pendarling]

Bracelet Exchanges

"What's this supposed to mean?" Hero raised the bracelet to eye level and took in the smooth braided leather attached to a small bell.

Sidekick smiled sweetly, "Aww, who gave it to you?~" Their thumb ran along it. "It's a tradition during the festival that when someone likes you they'll give you a bracelet." They played with the bell. "And listen to that sound!"

They didn't get it, probably because this was Hero's first time attending the festival. They've never heard of a tradition like this, but whatever Sidekick said was likely true. In that case, Hero felt flattered to have been approached by a stranger and given the beautifully decorated piece.

The duo walked around for some time until Sidekick paused in their step. "Augh… maybe I shouldn't have drank so much at the cafe…"

Hero looked around and spotted a bathroom, "I'll wait for you out here. Why don't you use the restroom?"

"Ugh… my bladder is about to burst. Make sure not to get lost without me." They called back as they walked toward the door of the small building.

Hero watched them as they left, their eyes concentrating on the door until they could see Sidekick again. Hopefully, they didn't take too long. Sidekick had a habit of staring into the mirror for longer than needed.

A heavy weight landed on Hero's shoulder, and they snapped out of their thoughts, "You look lost." A familiar smile appeared, and Hero took a step back.

"Villain?"

"The one and only." They pointed at themselves confidently.

"Wh-what're you doing here?"

As if offended, Villain scoffed at them and dismissed their question, that cunning smile making its reappearance again, "Y'know, I had a feeling you'd be here, some stupid arrangement like this could easily lure the good little citizen in you right out."

Hero frowned at their comment; they made it seem like they were a lot more susceptible than expected. "I'm not easy to lure…" They grumbled, annoyed.

Villain aimlessly let their eyes explore their surroundings. "Really? Because right now there's hardly anyone around to notice your dissaaperance."

Hero clicked their tongue, "This place is full of people."

"It's a lot more psychological, Hero. I'm more likely to get away with a crime solely based on the assumption that no one will step in to help you."

Hero looked at them, puzzled.

"The bystander effect. Search it up."

Their adversary had a bizarre way of making jokes; they sarcastically laughed and turned away. Just how long was Sidekick going to fix their hair? The door poured out dozens of other guests; children buzzed around with balloons and colourful hula hoops too big for most of them to utilize.

It was a summer afternoon and, by the looks of it, midday. Hero wiped the sweat from their forehead. They couldn't blame Sidekick for taking that many drinks, they supposed; it was sweltering out here.

The bracelet on their wrist chimed at the motions of their hand. Villain, who had been quietly observing them, took note of the small leather band. Their hand instinctively grabbed Hero's arm. "And what do we have here?" Hero turned their attention back at Villain. Their interest was piqued all over again, "Looks like our hero has an admirer now, hm?" They sneered.

Even though Villain's remarks were usually playful, this moment felt a bit… guarded. Hero was slightly put off before recovering their voice, "What? It's just a dumb thing." They pulled their hand away.

It didn't look like Villain took too kindly to being disregarded; their demeanour changed, and they crossed their arms. "Fine. Keep that shitty toy if it makes you happy."

Hero only shrugged but didn't notice Villain had already walked away until it was too late.

Sidekick had returned by then and looked the same as when they left. For whatever reason, keeping Sidekick busy for ten minutes had done Hero a favour.

"You're back."

Sidekick seemed much refreshed as they adjusted their clothes, "Yeah, there was a lineup in there. I'm just lucky there was still toilet paper."

The sun still beat down on them; Hero squinted in the distance, partially looking for shade and partly searching for Villain. They didn't like their abrupt departure; it wasn't like their usual self to leave without saying goodbye.

"Wanna get lunch?" Hero began walking toward the scent of food.

"Yesss, please." Sidekick patted their stomach, "I'm starving." They came up along the fence of the festival, a row of food stalls of all kinds stretched down the walkway.

The formation that they were sorted into allowed guests to be served from both sides of each food stall. Luckily, the city thought ahead and duplicated certain popular foods like the deep-fried corndogs, fries, and ice cream stalls several times around the area.

"Oooh… I'm thinking pizza." Sidekick said they waited for Hero's response.

The pizzas sold here were always larger than average, and Hero didn't have as big of an appetite as Sidekick. They glanced around for a second option. "I think I'll just get a poutine."

Sidekick pulled out their wallet and gave them ten. "They sell the good orange juice there, Hero pleeease get me one." They pushed the cash into their hand. "Keep the change."

"Ah, no, I'm not taking your money." They handed it back to them.

Sidekick shoved it in their direction again, "Just take it, just take it."

"No, I can't-- I can pay for your drink."

"I don't need it, it's extra change; pocket money."

Hero shook their head rapidly, but Sidekick eventually won and spun on their heel into the crowd as soon as they ensured Hero's grip on the note was firm.

"Sidekick!" their voice was chased away by the noise of the crowd. They might as well go along with what they were asked.

When Hero eventually made it to the stall, they spotted Villain again, as if they were in no way a threat to the other citizens. Their eyes met, and Hero had discreetly pushed their bracelet up their arm and out of view.

Villain beckoned them over. They were unsure if they should bravely face them, but now that Villain knew for sure Hero had seen them, it wasn't like they could leave.

"Waiting to eat too?"

"Just felt a little hungry." Hero mumbled.

They chuckled, "We have the same eating schedule, huh?" They grabbed their arm and pulled Hero into line with them.

"Villain, I can't step in front of other people." They hesitantly tried leaving, but Villain kept them close.

"Don't worry about it, these people will get their turn eventually. What's a few extra minutes gonna do?"

They didn't want to say they were surprised at all when Villain paid for their lunch and even for Sidekick's drink, but they were undoubtedly flattered to have it happen. They set it down on a nearby table and packed in the bottled orange juice and bill into their bag.

Hero shyly thanked them, although they knew Villain's eyes still stared harshly at the little leather bracelet. They honestly had forgotten about its significance, but Villain had made their point pretty clear earlier, so it should've been a sign.

"No need to thank me, consider it a gift." They reached out, and Hero flinched, "I'm not going to kill you, Hero." They laughed and took their other hand, slipping on a small chain bracelet.

They stood awkwardly, too intimidated to leave but unwilling to stay. "What's this?"

"You don't know anything about this tradition?" Villain grinned widely; a sort of satisfied realization must've hit them. They weren't sure what the deal was with every other person expecting Hero to know so much from what little information they'd been given.

"Why are you asking me like I'm supposed to be taking an exam afterwards?" They closed their bag and swung it back over their shoulders. Villain couldn't believe it. Hero wasn't even aware of the implications behind the bracelet. They didn't mind a little obliviousness from their rival as long it kept them entertained.

They licked their lips excitedly, "Enjoy your lunch, and don't take that off until the end of the day." Hero curiously stared at them for further insight, but Villain had only left them to their own devices as they made their way out of view.

As Hero returned to the pizza parlour, they found Sidekick sitting at a table under the shade of a tree. "Oh, thank God," Sidekick took the bottle from them and immediately rested their cheek against the calm exterior. "You're my saving grace, Hero." They reached an arm out to them, "I wanna tell you a secret." They leaned in as Hero pulled out their poutine and a wooden fork. "I honestly only came to this festival for the food and drinks."

Hero laughed, "You're so predictable." They took a bite and recalled the cash still in their bag, "Sidekick," They pulled it out and handed it to them.

"What? You're paying me back?'

They shook their head and swallowed whatever was left, "No, I--" they stopped themselves, "uh-- a kind stranger, paid for our stuff." If Sidekick knew they ran into Villain, they would worry. They couldn't have that while they were enjoying time together; it would ruin their day. Besides, Hero was always away at work; they might as well not make their break day about it.

Sidekick didn't mind much attention to what they said aside from slowly nodding as they drank from the bottle. They set it down and watched Hero for a few extra seconds, "You got a new bracelet."

They pointed at their wrist. Hero redirected their eyes to the silver chain. "Oh, yeah."

"Wow~ even as a citizen you're still popular with the public."

Hero smiled softly; if, in this scenario, Villain had counted as a regular person, then it would be true. "I wonder why it's different though." They played with it.

Sidekick pulled out their phone, "Give me a second. I wanna know too."

"Not even the all-knowing Sidekick has an answer?" Hero nudged them slightly with their foot, and Sidekick pushed them back in response.

"Shut up. I know that the leather one means they like you. Or loyalty, or something."

Sidekick looked up from the screen. "Okay sooo…" They scrolled, "There's a wooden bracelet that means desire to marry, a black one with a red stone is lust."

Hero scooted closer to Sidekick and tried to decipher what they could from the screen. "Where's the chain?"

Sidekick sat up, "Hold on. I can't see with your hair in the way." They watched Sidekick's eyes dart left and right as they read the page, "Okay, so the chain one basically means all three."

"All three?"

"Who the hell gave you that?" They took Hero's wrist, disbelief written on their face as they studied it. "Geez, they must have it bad for you. There's only like a hundred of these in the city."

Their eyes widened. "They aren't sold?"

Sidekick shook their head, "Tradition says you gotta give it away to another person. When you do find someone you like you gotta hand it to somebody new so they can give it to their love interest next, never sell."

Hero blushed deeply. They didn't consider that Villain might've liked them like that. Maybe they were naturally born stupid at blatant advances. "Oh…" they played with their hair, their other hand working at the fries around the gravy, too swept up in their thoughts to properly eat. Maybe they'd see Villain again, and next year, they'd give them a chain bracelet, too. It was only fair that they expressed their gratitude in some form.

~~~ MASTERLIST

[elsweetheart]

the request got deleted by mistake :( so here is:

abby anderson x ball of energy gf

for the lovely anon who requested💕

• okay, first and foremost i think abby would be so unphased. like you’d literally be bouncing off the walls and she just wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at it. she honestly finds it useful, knowing you have lots of energy to be helpful, run and climb if need be. that’s why she likes taking you on patrol, you can keep up with her without trying whilst providing her with some entertainment.

• if she needs you to be quiet whilst you’re rambling, she’ll just turn around and give you her full attention — caging you in slightly with her wider muscular build before calmly bringing her finger up to her lips in a shushing motion. it usually distracts you from what you were talking about and you quietly trail off, staring up at her and copying her motion silently. she rewards you with an affectionate scratch behind the ear, before continuing listening out for what she needed to hear. she doesn’t like to directly tell you to just “be quiet” unless it’s urgent, as she doesn’t want to catch you off guard knowing how intimidating and blunt she can sometimes accidentally be.

• abby finds it super easy to entertain you. if you’re on a supply hunt (etc) with her, and she can feel you getting antsy / understimulated, having a lot of built up energy inside you — it’s a totally easy fix for her. she’ll simply turn to you with a “bet you can’t run and jump up on that wall.” if she deems it safe enough. it’s simple, but effective and before she’s even blinked, you’re sprinting off giggling out a “bet you’re wrong!” she gets creative with all her little challenges, and by the end of the day you’re exhausted, calm for once as you curl up in her arms. you’ll be half awake murmuring “i had so much fun on the supply run today abby. you’re so much fun. i don’t wanna do a hunt with anyone else ever.” which melts her lil heart 🫶🏼

• the only time it’s really difficult, is when you’re on a long car journey together. you can’t burn off energy by running around, and you can’t climb all over her because she needs to concentrate on driving. all this means, is you’re very very chatty— firing tons of hypothetical questions at her such as “would you still love me if i turned into a cat with no legs and one eye and blue fur?” (insert abby fumbling for an answer, trying not to seem dumbfounded by the insanity of the question.) she likes to play “i spy” with you, and finds it helps calm you down a bit more.

• everytime you see her, it’s like you’ve been away from her for weeks. she’ll come back from a two hour patrol, and you’ll spot her across the room — running over and jumping on her, wrapping your legs around her. “abby! i missed you! guess what i saw, so remember the rocks i was collecting? well—” and launch into a full update. abby always wonders how so much manages to happen in the small amount of time she was gone, but it always puts a smile on her face no matter what kind of mood she’s in. she can’t resist your bubbly and energetic ways!

• she’s so used to you, that she doesn’t even consider that other people might be taken aback by your high energy spurts. you’ll sprint out the door past owen, who stops in his tracks with a raised eyebrow. “whats up with her?” he’ll ask and abby’s expression won’t change, if anything she seems a little irritated at some a dumb question. “she’s having fun. can i help you?”

• late night energy bursts can only be cured by one thing, abby letting you bounce on her strap as she lays back and watches. she might be tired, but she’d give up sleep anyday to watch you bounce on her cock like a bunny, straddling her with your knees up, moaning and whining as she lazily rubs your clit with one hand, the other rested casually behind her head. “i know baby, that’s it. get out all that energy. someone’s gonna sleep good tonight, huh?”

• on a supply run, the two of you acquire batteries that were on your list, and you find some that have The Energiser Bunny logo on the pack. from then on, abby jokingly nicknames you her energiser bunny. it’s funny, of course — but something about the way she’ll come up behind you and hug you with her arms around your waist, kissing just below your ear saying “theres my little energiser bunny.” makes you embarrassed to admit that it does something to you.

[muddyorbsblr]

save my room for last

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: the morning after 'a sizing mishap', hours before 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce'

Summary: One of the duties you're assigned for Soccer Aid Training Week is to run wakeup calls for a handful of players. Today you and your fellow staff members draw names for who you have to wake up.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ | smut-ish times [minors & pearl-clutchers, don't even try me i am not the one]; one (1) cuss word

Things to be aware of: cuddly clingy and overall menace bf Tom; cozy steamy times 🥴😮‍💨

The high-pitched scandalizing notes of your alarm pierced the quiet of your hotel room, effectively steamrolling your peaceful slumber in your boyfriend's arms.

"Too early," Tom grumbled, holding your naked body tighter against him. "Sun hasn't even begun to peek through." You fought the urge to snuggle further into his side and burrow your face into the crook of his neck as large hands freely roamed your back.

"I gotta go," you groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and trying to roll out of his hold, only making him let out a whiny groan and wrap his fingers around your thigh to pull you back to him. "Sweetie if I'm late I get whoever's left in the bowl for the wakeup calls." You had to bite your lip to hold back any reaction you had to his hand now lazily kneading at the back of your upper thigh, fingers traveling dangerously close to the part of you that was already most definitely awake and beginning to ache for him. Again.

"Not yet," he mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead, tracing the features of your face lazily in sloppy kisses. "Just a few more minutes, goddess."

Dammit, when he got all whiny and needy like this, combined with the gravel of his morning voice, it was damn near impossible to deny him anything. You'd be downright hilarious to even try. And yet here you were, doing exactly that.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, but I gotta go," you mumbled, letting out a few giggles that were muffled when he pressed his lips to yours, already pulling you tighter against him and sighing out in contentment as he did so. "I wanna at least have a chance of drawing your name from the bowls."

"Hmmm…you as a wakeup call," he pondered, the tips of his fingers running lightly up and down your side. "But I already have that luxury. That pleasure. Why give that up now for the possibility of having it again later?" He tightened his hand around your thigh and pulled you on top of him, making you brace your hands on his chest. "Why don't we just enjoy the early morning…" he trailed off, running his hands up the side of your body and down to your hips. "Just like this?"

You let out a groan, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his cheek before making a motion to get up and out of the bed. "Because if we do this it could very well be my first and last time on the committee, which means that if you get called back next year, chances are I won't be working the event with you."

Stepping away from the bed, you held back a giggle from the sight of his absurdly long arm reach out for you before flopping down the side of the bed, fingertips barely grazing the floor. You had to turn around to focus on getting your clothes back on, seeing as the sight of his naked form stretching in bed with the sheets so haphazardly draped over him and barely covering him from the hips down served as quite the distraction.

Add to that the way that the sheets traveled down when he stretched, putting on a sluttish display of the well-defined Adonis belt that framed the smattering of hair from his belly button leading down a path you were all too familiar with. If you didn't look away now you would find yourself back in bed and taking him up on his offer, position in the committee and wakeup call assignments be damned.

Unfortunately you knew that you needed to be there when they drew names. You prided yourself in being fairly decent in reading people, and you saw how the other members of the committee eyed Tom. They would be there before the names were even in the bowl trying some way to rig the system and get his name on the off chance that maybe they would catch even a fraction of the glimpse of the view you'd had just seconds ago. The worst part was that you couldn't even blame them.

The only thing you could really do was make sure you had an equal chance of drawing his name, too.

You opted not to bother with your bra and underwear, seeing as you would end up showering when you got to the room that you were designated to share with two other members, Lilly and Simone, anyway. "Go back to sleep," you whispered into the relative darkness. "Whoever ends up drawing your name, just make sure you're fully ready because I don't trust them not to have a camera on them just to snap a picture."

"Will you do something for me, sweetheart?" he mumbled, seeing the silhouette of his hand raising as if reaching for yours in the dark. You put your hand in his once you'd slipped your shirt on, letting out a little squeal when he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Save me for last if you draw my name. I'll barely see you between my practice and whatever gets assigned to you for the day. If I get even a few minutes having you all to myself I want to savor it until the last possible second."

"I promise," you said with a giggle, easing your hand out of his and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you headed out the door.

You tried your best to make as little sound as possible when you stepped through the door of your assigned room, not wanting to wake your roommates so rudely considering the ungodly hour. Of course, there was only so much you could do with the hinges of the door closer all but sounding trumpets at your return.

"Hmph…" Lilly groaned into the darkness. "There's no way it's already time for the briefing."

"Calm down, it's just me. We have half an hour, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?" Simone queried softly. "Bloody hell where'd you sneak off to? When you didn't come in last night we thought you fell asleep in the lobby prepping the media passes. Had half a mind to go out there and retrieve you so you could actually sleep on a bed."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll have you know that I didn't pass out in the lobby, or a conference hall, or anywhere of the sort. My boyfriend's working the event, too. I spent the night with him." That announcement seemed to perk them both up considerably, both women sitting up from the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower and then we can all head over to the briefing together and see whose names we end up drawing."

"Please let me get Beck," Lilly whined. "My sister will be totally stoked and maybe I can even get him to greet her in a video or something." She was practically bouncing on her bed from excitement now. "Who do you two wanna get?"

"I don't much care who I get," you  bluffed, blindly choosing an outfit from your suitcase. "What about you, Simone?"

"Asa," she answered without hesitation. "Absolutely adorable, that one." She then let out a stream of giggles. "I'll tell you who a handful of women would absolutely slaughter each other to draw, though. Heard them last night talking about how they were tempted to rig the bowls somehow just so things go their way and maybe they could get a glimpse of the famous bulge that Marvel needed to shell out some extra bucks for to buff out with CGI."

"Rig the bowls?" you huffed. "What're they gonna do, have Hiddleston's name printed in special textured paper so they can feel which one to pick out?"

"Upper level conspiracy material right there," Lilly joked. "I'd bet they'd try and trade with whoever ends up drawing him. Gotta admit, though. I wouldn't mind getting his name."

"Same," you and Simone murmured.

Twenty minutes later and the three of you stood among the other staff members in the briefing room, four bowls filled with paper strips lined up on a table in front of you, and the head of committee, Johanna, standing on the other side of the table with a clipboard in hand.

"Right then. Each of you step up, draw one name from each bowl, and hold on to them until everyone's drawn four names each, two from Team England, and two from Team World. Then and only then will you all take turns sharing the names you've drawn. No swapping." She looked at the members closest to the door, her gaze landing on you. "Y/L/N. You're up first."

Your heart was pounding in every part of your body the entire way through, hoping beyond hope that one of the scraps of paper that now laid in your hand held Tom's name. You watched as the other staff members approached the table one by one, some of them doing the sign of the cross before reaching their hand in, others outright expressing how they wished they'd drawn your boyfriend's name once the papers were in their hands. All the while you did your best to feign indifference, fighting against your body's knee jerk reactions of tensing your neck or glaring at them as if you were imagining what they'd look like if their hair suddenly caught fire.

Once everyone had four scraps of paper each, Johanna randomly called out your names, instructing you to share what was written on your respective papers. With each disappointed announcement came more blatantly optimistic expressions from the remaining members; Lilly proudly announced that she drew the TikTok influencer Beck, and Simone beamed as she read out the name "Butterfield".

You took a deep breath before opening the papers when your name was called, struggling to not show the relief that washed over you as you read out the names in your hand. "Bolt…Claflin…Scott…Hiddleston."

"Y/N name your price," one of the more outspoken members from earlier, Brynne, called out. "Come on, you'd still have--"

"Rules are rules, Brynne. You heard me earlier," Johanna's voice echoed through the room. "No swapping. You know your assignments. Meet back here at oh-eight-hundred to receive your designations for the rest of the day."

Passing through the wakeup call runs of the players from the World Team went off without a hitch, consisting purely of knocking on their doors, announcing your presence, and they were out within five minutes and off to the practice field. There was a tiny bit of an awkward interaction with Sam Claflin pointing at your neck and asking if you were alright because it looked "concerningly red", even wondering if it was a rash.

"Thanks for the concern, but I promise everything's fine," you answered him, not-so-casually moving your hair about so that it fell down in front of your shoulders and covered the area in question. "It's not a rash."

That got quite the reaction from him, causing fairly taller man to break out in chuckles and lightly shake a pointed finger in your direction. "You're quite the character. I hope whoever gave you that 'not a rash' appreciates that."

"I think he does," you quipped. "I mean we've been at this seven years and he doesn't seem bored yet so looks like I might be doing something right," you topped off with a shrug, heading to Jill Scott's room next. "Good luck out there."

"Lovely meeting you, Y/L/N," he said with a wave before heading off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later you were knocking at the door to Jill's room, a ridiculous excitement slowly building inside of you and making you rock back and forth where you stood thinking about the next and final stop on your list before you had to return to the briefing room.

"Who is it?" you heard her call out from inside the room.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you said for the third time this morning. "Morning wakeup call."

"I'll be right out." A few moments later her door swung open, the woman greeting you with a warm smile. "Hey…Y/L/N, at the risk of sounding presumptuous or giving you cause of concern I have to ask you something."

Her premise took you aback, making you walk a little straighter and touch the ends of your hair, making sure that your neck was still considerably covered. "Pretty sure that just brought my blood pressure up a few points, but go ahead," you prompted her, trying to make light of the concern you were already feeling.

"It's just I noticed something whenever you passed by the field yesterday afternoon and--Ah screw it, best to just bite the bullet. You and Hiddleston…are you two an item?"

The question had your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. "Hmm? What uhh…what made you think that?"

"Well, if you two aren't a thing, I highly recommend letting the lad down easy because he looks at you like those videos of pets when they see their owners come home. Wide dopey eyes and like his heart wants to burst out of his stupidly wee jersey. That is the most irretrievably in love man I've ever seen with my own two eyes."

You didn't even bother to fight back the smile that stretched across your face. "We uhh…we are. I won't be letting anyone down easy today because honestly I'm so in love with the man it's borderline painful," you confirmed to her with a little shrug. "I may also be the one responsible for that tiny jersey currently fighting for its life. And the shorts. We're just trying to keep things a bit…less public, you know?"

She clapped her hands together loudly, suddenly looking victorious. "I knew it! For the record, you two make a lovely couple. His face lights up whenever he'd steal a glance your way yesterday. And when the other ladies from the committee try to chat him up, it's like he barely even registers that they're paying him any attention. You caught a rare one."

Her testimony on how he behaved when you weren't around had your heart swelling. If there was one thing that was eating away at you, it was the insecurity you felt knowing exactly who you were with and how much more objectively attractive those women that practically draped themselves over him were. And the fear always lingered in the back of your mind that one day he'd wake up and realize exactly that.

"I know," you choked out. "I really lucked out with him."

She pointed down the hall, starting to make her way to the elevator. "Am I last on your list or you have to make a few more stops?"

Your smile grew even wider, basically giving the answer away already. "No uhh…there's one more. Saving him for last."

A deviously amused toothy grin stretched across her face. "Ah, I see I see. Well I won't keep you. I'm sure you're excited to see him again."

You made your way back to Tom's room as fast as you could short of breaking out into a jog, practically power-walking down the halls until you rounded the final corner to the hallway where he'd carried you in his arms just the night before. Nearly even began to skip on your way there until you saw the small group of people that were waiting just a few doors away from his, the one closest to your destination being Brynne.

"Uhh…are you all waiting for your assigned players to get out or…?" you trailed off, already straightening your stance, deepening your voice, and taking on a posture that you only really dished out once in a blue moon. In private. With Tom.

Everyone but Brynne stepped away from their relaxed positions against the wall and walked back toward the elevator. You eyed the audacious, slightly taller auburn-haired woman expectantly. "Come on, Y/N. Be a team player here. Every time I've worked an event that involved him I don't even get the chance to be anywhere near him, I'm asking nicely please trade with me. I'll give you Payne--"

"Ew," you cut cut her off, not backing down from your 'boss lady-slash-domme' tone. "Shouldn't have led with that, Brynne. I mean I kinda feel for you that you got Mister more than big enough for you luv, when in fact I've been to children's parties that served vienna sausages bigger than what the guy's packing--"

"Exactly!" she empathized, letting out a chuckle and reaching for your hand as if to form a bond between you two. You knew better, though, and moved it just out of her arm's reach, knowing full well that the motion was meant to reach for the keycard you were suddenly holding tighter in your fist. "So please? Be a pal and let me shoot my shot?"

You did your best to keep your jaw unclenched, fighting every urge you had to make a show of this particular wakeup call and reveal the very blatant reason why you would not be helping her 'shoot her shot'. "You know, Brynne, I really wish I could help you but…it's my first year here and I really don't wanna get on Johanna's bad side by disobeying her 'no swapping' rule." The conspiratorial smirk on her face dropped, now eyeing you with incredulity as if you'd given her a resounding slap right to her ego.

With her more or less out of your way, you walked over to Tom's door and knocked three times, same as you did for the rest of your assignments.

"Who is it?" his muffled voice queried from the other side.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you called out. "Morning wakeup call."

You could practically hear the smile on his face as he spoke again. "Am I the last on your list?"

Oh sweetie there's no list. It's you. It's only ever gonna be you, you thought to yourself with a smirk. "Yup. Last one."

"Please, come in then." The eyes of your onlookers widened the side of saucers at what they heard. "I'm nearly ready, I wouldn't want you to wait out there on your feet. Come in, catch your breath. Really, I insist."

You made a show of looking a bit perplexed at the offer. "O-Oh. Uhm…alright then." You turned to give your fellow staff members a casual look, shrugging before using the keycard in your hand to open the door and slip into the room, your cheeks and neck already straining from the laughter you were reining in as you saw the image that greeted you. "That is not even remotely 'nearly ready'," you playfully accused, motioning to the towel that he held around his waist, water droplets still running down his torso from the shower you suspected he'd just finished at most a few minutes ago. "What if someone else drew your name?"

Before he could answer, you held a finger to your lips and pointed at the door, then signaled toward your ear to tell him that there were people outside listening, or as you snidely put it in your thoughts, 'rummaging for scraps'. "Simple, darling. I wouldn't have invited them in," he answered in a more hushed tone. "I really should finish getting ready, though. Wouldn't want to let this wakeup call go on for longer than is expected of me," he said in a teasing tone, making a motion as if to turn around.

The air left your lungs in a disbelieving chuckle as he released his hold on the towel, the weighed down fabric falling to the floor with a wet sounding thud, and baring every inch of his gloriously naked form to you.

You had to force yourself to look away, gripping the edge of the dresser so hard that you were sure the skin on your knuckles turned white the second you caught a glimpse of the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass.

That was monumentally easier back when he was mere feet away from you, and now nearly impossible with the way he walked right up to you, lightly wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists and leaning in to bring his lips closer to your ear. "I noticed you didn't have anything to put your hair up. I know how you get when your hair starts to stick to your neck," he whispered, lips lightly brushing across the shell of your ear.

He leaned in even closer, his slightly damp chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached around behind you with his other arm to tie a ribbon around your wrist. Your breathing hitched in the bach of your throat when he stepped even closer, working his thigh between your legs as he dipped his head and traced along your neck with the tip of his nose. "I uhh…I have to get back to the briefing room by 8…" you trailed off with a whimper, letting out a soft moan the moment you felt him press a kiss to your neck.

"We have time," he murmured, pressing another kiss on the same spot and smiling against your skin when you tilted your head and exposed more of your neck to him. He hummed into your skin, pressing closer against you, taking a deep breath as if he was breathing you in. "Is this a new perfume?"

His question, coupled with how he continued to press kisses along your neck, hands leisurely roaming your body as if you two had all the time in the world, put your mind in a haze. "It uhh…it is. One of the girls I'm assigned to room with suggested I try it out."

You began to grow weak in his arms as he kissed a trail down to your chest, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs to lift you up onto the dresser. "It's divine on you," he breathed against your skin, his lips kissing up to the other side of your neck and making you rest your forehead against his shoulder, struggling to take deep breaths.

When he started nipping and sucking at your neck was when you had to hold a hand over your mouth before you moaned so loud that everyone outside and maybe even the room above you would know exactly what was going down in this room. "What--"

"The mark on your neck looked lonely. Let me fix that," he whispered into your skin before latching his lips onto your neck again and proceeding to bite and suck a bit harder, causing you to press your lips to his shoulder and muffle your moan that way.

When you felt the all too familiar flames of your desire start to lick at your skin, your hands found themselves gripping at his back, struggling to remain cautious to not dig your fingernails in and claw at him.

"No," he grumbled against your skin. "Don't hold back, goddess. Sink your teeth into my skin. Mark me. Let me have you with me all day long." He weaved his fingers into your hair and moved to press his shoulder harder against you, as if urging you even more to leave your mark on him the way he was currently doing for you. His grip at the base of your hair tightened when you bit down on his shoulder, groaning into your neck a near euphoric sound that nearly sounded like a guttural 'thank you'.

You pulled away first, nearly gasping for air. "I have to be out soon or they're going to start gossiping about what they think is happening in here."

"They wouldn't be gossiping, sweetheart, because they would be correct," he shot back with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back from you and finally letting you down from the dresser, giving you a soft smile as he fixed your hair to cover both sides of your neck. "I'll be ready in two minutes. Grab a water before you leave, you look a bit flushed."

"Menace," you murmured, scrunching your nose at him and giggling when he tilted your head up and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before walking back into the bathroom to actually get ready. You made sure to take a few extra seconds before walking back outside. No sense in letting a perfectly good view go unappreciated.

As you'd suspected, Brynne and the other staff members were still outside when you stepped out of the room, water bottle in hand. "Wow…" she droned at you, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you were going to nick anything from the room, you shoulda gone for something with a bit more substance. Amateur."

"Okay first of all, I didn't swipe this," you bit back, your tone from earlier suddenly making a return and causing a few of the staff members to flinch at the sudden shift in the room. "He told me grab one, said something about me looking 'redder than usual'. Second? If you have a problem with me being assigned to this particular player, take it up with Johanna. Because frankly I don't have the fucks to spare to deal with your petty toddler pageant behavior."

She stood in front of you gobsmacked, a small sound of utter shock escaping her when you made sure to bump against her shoulder hard when you walked past her as the door to Tom's room opened.

"Oh…I suppose you're all here to perform wakeup calls for your assigned players? Like Y/N?"

His words seemed to snap everyone out of their reverie and they haphazardly approached the doors and knocked, hollering their names and telling the person on the other side that they were there for the morning wakeup call. Your boyfriend let out a soft chuckle, subtly shaking his head at their antics and lightly touching the inside of your wrist before signaling for you two to walk toward the elevators.

"Am I mistaken or did I hear you using that voice you have tucked away for some of our more creative nights out here?" he asked under his breath, deftly swiping the bottle from your hand and bringing it to his lips to take a few gulps before handing it back to you.

"Had to," you answered before you finished off the contents of the bottle. "She was trying to make a move on what's mine."

That had him quickly wrapping his hand around your elbow and leading you into a more narrow hallway that probably led into the hotel staff's service walkways, walking you back against the wall and lightly gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Much as I adore it when you get a touch territorial, you do know that no one will ever succeed? There's no one in this world that can lure me away from you. I'm yours. Always."

You rose to the tips of your toes, bringing a smile to his face as he met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. "I love you," you murmured against his lips, letting out a whiny whimper when you heard the footsteps of the other players and staff members about to round the corner.

"I love you, too." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before you two parted ways and he went toward the elevator, casually greeting the other players as he met them. Meanwhile you made your way back to the briefing room, surprised to find yourself the first one there.

"Ah. Y/L/N. With fifteen minutes to spare, too," Johanna greeted you. "How'd you like to be assigned to set up for the Elementals video?"

You fought to keep back the sheer joy that you felt from the offer, the knowledge that you'd be seeing Tom again in a short while filling you with so much excitement you were itching to dance on the spot. "I'd like that very much. Thanks, Johanna."

A/N: I was supposed to have posted this yesterday during my birthday but I got sidetracked building a Baby Groot Lego set 😂🫡 There's about 4 more stories that take place during Soccer Aid week for these two and honestly I can't wait for y'all to see what else I have in store for them because they're precious menaces in love 🥹🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 5

Laptop’s still at the shop, but hopefully I’ll get it back some time in the next week. In the meantime, come get your food :3

Content warnings: Reader fighting the urge to be down bad. That’s it, really. Check master list for prev parts.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

As the Northland Bank has been the primary bank of Snezhnaya for quite some time, you’re one of many to have an account with it. You’ve been inside this building a few times before, so you know what the ornate interior looks like. You know the faces of the tellers, though you really only know a couple of their names. You also know about the stairs leading up to what you correctly assumed is Pantalone’s office, an area you have never ventured into as you've never done anything that warranted a visit upstairs. You imagine that’s a good thing.

As such, you cannot help the pit of dread forming in your stomach as you climb the stairs. You can’t imagine what you’ve done to warrant an ascension to his office, but again, it only makes the anxiety worse. Pantalone has no reason to meet you like this. Hell, he barely has any obligation to talk to you in general, it’s your sister he’ll be working with when your father retires. Maybe this is actually about them? Is he confiding something in you that he couldn’t with them? That makes even less sense!

At the top of the stairs, you see Pantalone turn and then disappear. When you finally get to the top, you turn the direction he did and see he’s still right there, having simply moved out of the way for you while he waits. With a smile and not a word spoken, that’s all he needs to get you to keep following him down the corridor.

Your combined footsteps echo in the corridor, though his are much softer. You slow your pace to look at some of the art displayed on the walls, before turning back and seeing he’s already significantly ahead of you. He pauses, and looks back over his shoulder at you. You blush and pick your pace back up, and the two of you continue on to the large doors at the end of the hall, the oppressing feeling in your chest swelling up the closer you get.

The feeling does not go away when those doors open. You feel like prey being lured into a trap, and stepping through the doors into this office feels like you are walking into the mouth of the beast. It’s now a matter of if you can escape before Pantalone, the beast, sinks his teeth into you.

You stop right in the door and have to take in your surroundings. There are shelves that are floor to ceiling filled with books, entire sets of what look like textbooks about financing and economics. You wonder if Pantalone has actually read them, considering his vast and intimate knowledge on all things involving money, or if he bought these as mere decor. Where there aren’t bookshelves, you see ornate cabinets. For a moment you assume they’re just full of client details and other banking info, but then you think there would be an actual records room dedicated to that, and your imagination begins wandering, imagining what sort of sketchy deals and contracts are hidden within.

“Please, have a seat.”

You snap out of it and look ahead. You see his desk, Pantalone standing right next to it. He motions to the chair right in front of it. You swallow, and step forward. You feel Pantalone’s eyes following your every movement as you carefully take your seat.

“You know you can take your coat off, right?” he teases, and you hate how pretty his voice sounds when he does it. You awkwardly stand back up to shuck your coat off and hang it on your chair. Unsure what to do with your scarf, you simply bundle it up and hold it in your lap.

Pantalone takes his seat, and he’s all you can see right now. He’s still smiling, and the eye contact he maintains out of politeness feels oppressive, intense, though you think it’s mostly the anxiety doing that. Even if he’s not doing it intentionally, you think he knows well what effects he has on people.

“Before we begin,” he says, “can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, perhaps even some hot cocoa? It’s a bit too sweet for me most days, but recently I’d been given a peppermint blend as a gift from one of my associates, and it’s actually very nice. Definitely not an everyday drink for me, but it’s pleasant after being out in the cold.”

“I’m… I’m okay, thank you,” you reply.

He tilts his head. “Are you sure? If you want, I can fetch you a glass of water. You seem a little… under the weather, so to speak.”

“I just ate,” you explain, “and I’ve been, um, b-busy the past few days. Haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a bit, heh.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that. I presume this is in regards to your book?”

You blink. “How did you—”

“I was meeting with your father when you came home,” Pantalone explains, “your mother told us when you returned home after your meeting.”

Right, you forgot that he’s in and out of your home so much that it’d be weirder if he didn’t know you got canned. “A-Ah, I must have forgotten about that in my, um, state. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Pantalone waves a gloved hand dismissively, rings sparkling in the light. “By that point, we had already discussed all we needed to and were winding down for the evening. Your father was telling me about your siblings when you returned.”

And how successful they are when compared to me, you think to yourself. “Oh, y-yeah, he does that sometimes. It’s usually either how my older sister is doing and how happy he is she’ll take over, or my youngest sister’s education.”

“Does he not bring up you or your other siblings?”

You give Pantalone an odd look, knowing he’s trying to get into something, but you’re not sure what. You continue. “It’s not that he doesn’t, but he doesn’t see my brother or younger sister as often since they have families and high demanding jobs of their own, so there’s not a lot to say. He works with my older sister so they see each other all the time, and my youngest sister is the baby of the family, and she’s all the way in Sumeru. He worries when her letters are late that something’s happened.”

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense,” Pantalone says, “but, and I don’t mean to pry, what about you?”

“I keep to myself,” you answer, “and my dad’s never been a fan of my books, so…” You see Pantalone tilt his head inquisitively, and catch yourself. “L-Like, he’s not really a fan of romance, and I don’t think he’s ever been much of a reader, so the conversation usually ends after he asks how my writing is going.”

Pantalone frowns. Silence hangs in the air for a moment. Good save, you think to yourself, now it’s awkward.

You fidget a bit with the end of your scarf. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

The frown disappears, and Pantalone beams. “Oh, yes! One moment.” He leans over to open a drawer in his desk, and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to you. Confused, you hesitantly take it and look.

There isn’t a forwarding or return address on the envelope, it just has your name written on it. This doesn’t look like Pantalone’s writing, but you’ve seen very little of it and you definitely haven’t seen him write your name out. You flip it over and find it’s sealed with a wax stamp. It’s not the Regrator’s and you know that one for a fact. You’ve seen his seal before. This one is red with a flower with five petals stamped into the wax.

You look up at Pantalone, hoping the look on his face will give you a hint as to what this is. Beyond a knowing smile and a chuckle at your suspicious expression, you don’t have a clue what you’re getting into. With no further hints, you crack open the seal and see what’s inside. To no one’s surprise, it’s a letter. You give Pantalone one last glance to see his reaction, but there’s been no change in his expression. There’s nothing left to do but actually open the letter. You pull it out, setting the envelope on your lap, and unfold it.

Dear Mr. ██████,

I am reaching out to you as I have received the manuscript for your novel Plucking Heartstrings.

You feel your eyes bulge out of your head. You immediately stop and look at Pantalone. “What is this?”

Pantalone smiles wider and tilts his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

You wave the letter in his face. “Why am I getting a letter about my book? Why the hell do you have a letter for me about my book?”

He gestures to the letter. “Well, if you read it, you might get an idea of why they would write to you.”

You narrow your eyes at him before continuing.

Alongside this manuscript was a letter from a “family friend” explaining that your contract with a previous publishing house had been suddenly and unfairly terminated due to supposed budget cuts. Though the sender chose to remain anonymous, they have provided me with some of your personal information, primarily your previous works.

Your eyes snap back up to Pantalone’s face. “Did you steal my manuscript?!”

Pantalone chuckles. “Accusing a Harbinger of stealing is rather bold.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for it,” you hiss, “and you not only had it, but you sent it to someone behind my back?!”

Pantalone leans forward, his smile so bright and condescending. Something glints in his eyes when he speaks, and the subtle authoritarian tone in his voice sends a chill up your spine.

“Keep reading.”

His voice stirs something in you. It tempers your incensed outrage enough that you keep reading.

Having read your manuscript and looked more into your bibliography, let me be the one to say the Yae Publishing House would be thrilled to publish Plucking Heartstrings.

…

What?

Your previous works, while a little cliché for my tastes personally, explore commonly overused tropes and themes in ways that make them feel refreshing. Plucking Heartstrings, however, is quite different compared to your other stories. Rest assured, it’s a good thing. I don’t often receive stories starring blind characters, much less ones where they are the main character. Additionally, the demographic for readers wanting stories about same sex couples is a niche market we have been wanting to tap into, and it is a steadily growing one at that.

All of this to say, it would be of immense benefit to both of us if the Yae Publishing House were in charge of publishing your book. I only publish books that I find interesting, and it shows in your writing that this is the sort of story you want to tell, especially compared to what you’ve already published. Since this was anonymously mailed to us, we cannot properly work out a deal until you yourself contact us. I hope to hear from you soon.

If your eyes went any wider at the name at the bottom of this letter, they would surely fall out of your skull.

Sincerely, the Guuji Yae

Your eyes scan the page. They reread every elegantly written paragraph. You pick apart every sentence, break down every word to its definition, just to ensure you’re not misunderstanding anything. Your eyes keep drifting to that one phrase, fixated on the absurdity of it; the Yae Publishing House would be thrilled to publish Plucking Heartstrings.

You look up at Pantalone. He gives you a smug look of I told you so. You look down at the letter, digesting what you’ve just read, and your hands are starting to shake. Your vision blurs.

Pantalone watches you bury your face in your hands, curling forward in your seat as your body shakes and shudders with sobs. This isn’t the first time he’s made someone cry in his office. It’s why the saying around here is that the true currencies of the Northland Bank are blood and tears. He also knows some people cry over good news, but the way your face twisted before you began sobbing into your hands, admittedly, worries him. His letter from the Guuji explained that she was impressed with his work, but would not discuss details with anyone other than the author himself. Did that mean she liked it, but not enough to publish it?

Pantalone takes the box of tissues on his desk and pushes it forward. He clears his throat. “I will apologize for doing this behind your back,” he states, “even I can be prone to an occasional well intentioned but rash idea. ”

After a minute, you straighten up, face blotchy and soaked with tears. You take a few tissues and wipe at your face while Pantalone watches. You look around, and don’t see a bin to throw the tissues out. Pantalone stands up, picks up the bin at the side of his desk, and brings it around to you.

You take a shaky breath. “S-Sorry.” You drop the tissues in. “Everything just s-sort of hit me all at once, y-you know?”

“No need to apologize,” Pantalone assures you.

“Would you b-believe me that my editor just told me to c-contact the Yae Publishing House?”

At this, Pantalone laughs, still standing next to you. “I’m surprised they didn’t mention it sooner.”

“They’ve been telling me to give it a shot,” you continue, “b-but they’re a big deal in the publishing industry. Not anyone can just get their story published through them, a-and I was only good enough to have one publisher in all of Snezhnaya give me a chance.”

“Perhaps at the beginning,” Pantalone says, “but you’ve been writing professionally for nearly a decade, correct? Surely the quality of your work has improved. As an unknown and inexperienced author, it makes sense why some publishers might hesitate, but you’ve surely honed your craft enough and made a name for yourself by now. Even if you’re still relatively obscure, I’m sure your resume would be impressive to another publisher.”

“S-Still, the Guuji Yae herself…” You reread the letter with your blurry eyes. “She… she likes it. She thinks i-it’s unique, that it would appeal to a more niche audience, it’s…”

“Amazing, no?”

It’s too good to be true, you think. You look up, and turn your head so you’re looking directly at the man standing before you. You fixate on his face, it being the only thing you can see. He’s fixated on you as much as you are him. His expression is still smug and knowing, but the shine in his eyes while he looks at you is that of pride. Not arrogance like the rest of his face would convey, but the face of simply being proud, being happy for someone else. It makes your stomach flutter, and you feel the corners of your lips twitch upwards.

In spite of this good news at the hands of Pantalone, it doesn’t sit as well as it should. The anger you felt with him mere moments ago is not forgotten with the outstanding news, and you can’t ignore the fact he stole your manuscript and sent it off behind your back. The Yae Publishing House is reputable, but surely a man in his lines of work knows the sort of risk doing that would pose. Why would he do that?

No, better yet, why did he do this to begin with?

Your suspicions must be noticeable, because Pantalone’s cheery expression becomes noticeably more muted. “Is something the matter?”

You swallow, hands gently folding the letter back up. You briefly look away to tuck the letter back in the envelope, but feel too nervous to look back at him. “Don’t… don’t get me wrong, Pantalone, sir,” you say, “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this, but I have to ask, um… why?”

“Why what?”

You lift your head. “Why did you do this?”

Pantalone lifts a hand to push his glasses up. “Is there something wrong with supporting a struggling author?”

Your brow furrows when he dodges the question. “You just… I just don’t know why you’d do this without some sort of incentive.”

Pantalone raises his brow and you feel like you’ve just given him the wrong answer.

“Is it really so hard to believe I can’t just be charitable?” Pantalone asks you.

“It’s not that, you’ve done great things for Snezhnaya’s economy, so I know you’re, um, capable of good things,” you say in an awkward attempt at a recovery, “b-but I don’t really know what I personally have done for you to warrant this treatment. It feels more like a, u-um…”

Pantalone leans in, and you feel the heat radiating from his skin and smell the floral cologne he wears. “Like a what?”

Your voice becomes smaller, but you manage an answer. “... A favour?”

Pantalone chuckles, and stands back up. “I see, I see.” You jolt when a gloved hand takes hold of your chin and tilts it up so you can only see him. “You think I want something from you,” he says, “that I’ve given you a gift with strings attached, no?”

Heat floods your cheeks and the way he says “want” to you fills your head with images that are not too different from the book Pantalone found in your study. “N-No, I just—”

“I can see where you’d get the idea,” he remarks, his tone suddenly casual again. He lets your chin go and sits back down at his desk. “In truth, I do have a sort of… ulterior motive, I suppose you could say. Rest assured, it’s nothing dangerous, illegal, or immoral. I think it would actually be very beneficial for all parties involved, and that is why I do what I do.”

You clear your throat and push those thoughts about the man in front of you to the back of your mind. “What is it, then?”

“I’d like to get closer to your family.”

“... What?”

“I can tell your mother is not a fan of me,” Pantalone explains, “especially compared to your father, and just…” He sighs, and he sounds so tired. “If you told me his business was failing because he spends more time kissing my ass than actually running his business, I would believe you wholeheartedly.

You snicker. “I-I’m sorry about that, but at least I don’t have to pretend it’s not weird anymore.”

Pantalone smiles, then continues. “As I was saying, since this is a family owned business, it’s rather important that I am in all of your good graces, even if you don’t work in the company. Company parties, banquets, networking events, it’s common to bring family members to these events, so it’s practically a guarantee I will be interacting with your family regularly. How I treat your family will then affect how your father or sister view me.”

You hold up the envelope. “And that’s why you stole my manuscript and sent it to the Yae Publishing House?”

Pantalone chuckles. “Getting on your good side gets me on hers, and if the least trusting person can trust me, then others will follow suit.” He gestures to the envelope. “Besides, isn’t this a wonderful opportunity for you? It would really be a shame to turn it down.”

The attempt at guilt tripping is so obvious you actually think it’s a joke, but the rest of his spiel isn’t. You wonder why he’s laid it out so clearly for you. Is he telling you out of courtesy since he sent your work off behind your back? Is it something like a verbal contract where if things go awry, he’s not at fault in any way? Are you even certain he’s telling the truth? Granted, him outright saying he’s using you as a way to manipulate your family into liking him is a very strange coverup story. He’s more than likely telling the truth then.

You blink, and a realization hits you. He’s telling you why he did this so that you would be just as culpable as he is if you go through with the publishing deal. If things go according to how he laid them out, you accepting this deal will make your mother lower her guard. If your mother lowers her guard, then your siblings may be more inclined to approach him, which could in turn lead to more opportunities for him down the line. You’re imagining Pantalone having a vice grip on your whole family, having everyone at their mercy, and it would be your fault for making a deal with the devil to get your book published.

… Okay, admittedly, your imagination and your mother’s paranoia may be running in tandem on that one. It’s not like your family has any deep dark secrets, nothing worse than working with a harbinger or that the business is on decline. Though his unsavoury reputation precedes him, the Regrator is a legitimate businessman. Sometimes he does things a businessman would do.

“Why so quiet?” Pantalone asks.

“Just thinking this over,” you answer, technically telling the truth, “it’s a lot to dump on a man all at once.”

“Are you considering turning the offer down?”

“No! Uh, n-no, sorry. I still can’t believe the Guuji herself likes my work.”

“I’m sure it’s worth reading,” Pantalone remarks. You see him turn his head to something outside your peripheral. He hums. “Ah, look at the time. You said you were supposed to get a ride home, correct? Your mother must be worried.”

You roll your eyes. “Probably. I’ll bet she’s chewing my father out for forgetting about me.”

“I can arrange transportation for you,” Pantalone says.

“Oh, you really don’t—”

“I insist,” he interrupts. “I’m the one keeping you, it’s the least I can do to make up for it.”

“I… Fine.”

Pantalone gets up and comes back around his desk. He offers his hand to you, and you take it, assuming it’s a handshake. Instead, he pulls you out of your chair, catching you a little by surprise. You laugh it off a little, and begin gathering your things.

“Hey, do you still have my manuscript?” you ask.

“I do, actually.”

“... Can I have it back?”

“Only if you tell me about your book.”

You raise your brow. “Really? You literally stole it, I don’t have to do anything in return for it.”

Pantalone smiles. “I know, I’m just having a little fun with you. Is that so terrible?”

Get the fuck out of my head, dirty thoughts.

You sigh. “Fine. It’s about an arrogant prince who travels to another kingdom to meet a potential marriage candidate. He meets the palace musician and gets mad when he doesn’t regard the prince with the respect he deserves, only to find out it’s because the musician is blind and literally couldn’t see he was a prince.”

“Oh, interesting…”

“The two become close,” you continue, “the prince likes that the musician doesn’t try to suck up to him, and the musician likes that the prince talks to him like a human being, not a helpless living instrument.”

Pantalone smiles knowingly at you, but does not comment further. You turn your head to watch him walk towards his office door. Before he opens it, he stops and picks up something rectangular off the floor next to it. When he turns, you see he’s holding it by the handle. It’s your briefcase, the briefcase for your manuscript, the one you’ve been looking for. You walked right past it.

At this point you don’t know how annoyed you should be with him. You slip your coat on and tuck the envelope in your pocket. When you approach the Regrator, you unceremoniously snatch the briefcase from his hand. He chuckles, and opens the door for you.

The stairs aren’t as intimidating on the walk down. The same can sort of be said for the man you’re following on your descent. You’re conflicted. It’s not that you feel closer, moreso that the novelty of your father’s newest business partner being a harbinger is starting to wear off now. You think it’s good in the sense of getting closer to this very handsome man, but you’ll have to remind yourself before you speak that this isn’t just another CEO your father has teamed up with. When you watch the man wrap himself in that large white coat, you remind yourself this is a figure of extreme importance in Snezhnaya’s government. He’s not just some man you’ll see at dinner sometimes.

The air’s gotten colder since you first stepped inside. Snow flutters through the air in fat fluffy flakes, contrasting the darkness of Pantalone’s hair. Following behind him, watching snowflakes decorate his hair, you can see a few strands of silver amidst the strands.

Soon, you’re standing before a covered sled. Pantalone speaks to the driver, then turns and offers his hand to help you inside. You swallow, and accept his hand. He keeps you steady, and you mentally take note of how his hand feels through his glove. A firm grip, but slender fingers.

You set the briefcase by your feet, and turn to Pantalone. “I appreciate this, sir. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, really,” he replies. “If I may, though, I highly suggest you go through with this publishing deal, simply for your own benefit.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare turn this down.”

Pantalone smiles. “Good boy, now—”

Your neck near snaps when you whip it in Pantalone’s direction. “What did you just say?”

“I said good job, now—”

“No you didn’t. You absolutely did not say that.”

“What did I say, then?”

You go quiet, weighing how much you want to call him out. There’s no goddamn way he said anything else, but are you sure you want to tell a Fatui Harbinger that you think he called you a good boy? On the off chance you genuinely did mishear him, saying it out loud would be an absolutely brutal hit to your image and dignity.

You shake your head and mumble a quick “nevermind,” from under your scarf. Pantalone grins, and bids you farewell. You merely wave at him, unable to meet his eyes. He knows why, and you know he knows why.

Pantalone waits until the sled has disappeared down the street before heading inside.

[itsnotbird]

Orphic ~ File 3

Abience (n) ; the strong urge to avoid someone or something

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Find previous part here

Masterlist

An entire month passes since the strange incident. A complete month fades before you’re even mentioned again amongst the Avengers, and that’s only because Nick Fury turns back up with a thick looking file.

It’s all hushed whispers, and he and Tony spend an hour and thirty minutes in a conference room, discussing just what was in the file.

“I still can’t believe I missed something as big as this.” Nat says, trying to listen in on the conversation. Her ear pressed to the locked door, Steve, Wanda, and Sam wait behind her, all curious too.

“Yeah, it was certainly interesting.” Steve adds, arms crossed over his chest. His morals say not to eavesdrop, but he’s only human after all and he’s completely curious.

Inside the room, Tony rubs his head, trying to process the information.

“It’s a brand new case that opened up, all because Barnes pulled her from the street. I wouldn’t be here if I thought she couldn’t be trusted.” Fury states in a serious manner, watching Tony pick up a few more photos.

He aches, knowing how bad he treated you. Now, your life is spread out in front of him, showing him exactly why you acted the way you did.

“You really want us to take this on? To take her on?” He asks, pushing the evidence photos out of his sight, not baring to look at your marks and the brand on the back of your neck any longer.

Fury gathers the multitude of papers and sorts them back into the correct places. “She’s smart, really smart.” He says. “She was monitored, observed, we learned her habits, her behavior. She’s perfectly in control of her power, we made immense progress…”

Tony cocks his head. “But?”

“But, she’s just a little odd. She told us everything she knew, then went completely silent. Her therapist said it’s normal, it’s how she copes. If you ask her to do a task, she’ll do it, she knows the importance of her cooperation…she just needs to work on her people skills. That’s why I want her here.”

His jaw sets, then he groans at Fury’s request. “Fine. We’ll put her here.”

Fury smirks, closing his brief case up. “Good, she’ll be moved here in an hour.”

Tony glares. “How did you know I’d agree?”

Fury simple chuckles. “Because you never turn away strays anymore, even if it makes you grumpy.”

What the group waiting outside doesn’t expect is for the door to open so suddenly, making them earn a displeased look from Fury as he walks past them.

“Oh, good, some of you are already here.” Tony states, motioning them in. “Team meeting.”

- - - -

“How are the nightmares?”

Bucky stays silent, then looks at the clock to see if his mandatory hour is up yet.

It isn’t.

“I don’t have them.” He half lies, looking back to Dr. Raynor.

She gives him a look. “I don’t believe that.”

He fights his urge to groan. “Well, maybe you should, Doc.”

She sighs, then clicks her pen and pulls her notebook to her.

“Oh, don’t start with the damn notebook.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m talking, aren’t I? That was the deal? I talk, you don’t write.”

The woman shakes her head. “You’re talking but giving no real answers.”

“I told you I’m not having the same nightmares.” He reasons, not realizing he just lead on to more questions.

“So you’re having different ones?” She asks, putting her pen down and giving him her full attention.

“I guess, yeah.” He shrugs, grinding his back molars.

“Are they better or worse?”

He wanted to storm out of the room, and he would if he wouldn’t get arrested. She had a way of poking and prodding at him, it made him twitch. Or maybe he was still feeling the side effects of the strange girl that shocked his nervous system.

“I don’t know…they’re different.” He states, a curt tone.

“What’s different about them?”

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m not…killing people. Guess that’s progress, huh?” He attempts to joke, but she doesn’t smile, she just urges him to continue. So he looks down at his knee bouncing up and down.

“There’s someone else in them…this person.”

She’s interested in this. “A different person? Do you know them?”

I pulled her from the rain.

“No, not really.”

Raynor nods. “This is good, this is change. What is this person doing in the dreams?”

His fists clench, he bites his tongue for a moment too long. “She’s not doing anything except for just being there-”

“She?”

Crap. Now he’s said too much.

“Can we just talk about something else?” He grumbles, blinking hard in hopes of pushing the vision of your grey eyes out of his mind.

“You want to talk about something else?” She sighs. “Okay, how about other small changes you’re making? Have you been talking to your friends? Steve, Sam?”

Bucky sneers. “Sam isn’t my friend.”

Raynor rolls her eyes. “You get my point. Have you been talking to them?”

“Yeah, we chat over tea.” He says in a dry sarcastic tone.

The woman shakes her head. “We talked about this, you can’t push people completely away. When I suggested the apartment, I told you it was to heal on your own time, with no negative influences. That didn’t mean stop talking to the people who care about you.”

She had no clue what she was talking about, it made him agitated. When Raynor determined that he wasn’t going to discuss this either, she lets out a long sigh, then looks at him in question.

“You gonna get a haircut?” She asks.

He throws his hands up. “Now my hair’s the problem? You’re extra passive aggressive today, Doc.”

“You say that every session, James. I’m just asking a question because it’s getting a little long.”

He rubs his temple where he feels a headache coming on. “If I get a haircut, will you stop being so harsh?”

“No.”

What is he doing with his life?

- - - -

The team would have been more welcoming to you if they could find you.

Simply, you find a very quiet corner and sit there, listening and observing. Not necessarily hiding, but people tend to pass by without even noticing.

“Where is she?” Nat asks the guys who stand in the dining room, waiting for the meal to be done.

They all sort of shrug, it’s Steve that motions in a direction.

“I think she’s in the west hallway, by the ficus plant.” He says.

Natasha scoffs. “Did anyone tell her we are going to eat dinner?” She asks, looking between the group of them.

They all share a look of ‘did we?’

The answer is no.

“Maybe you guys should work on your people skills.” She says before walking off to retrieve you.

It even takes her a second to find you, but when she does, she smiles softly. Crouching to your level, she reaches for the phone in your hands that has about ten contacts and a music app. You search the music library, clicking on songs you’ve never heard before. They play through your headphones, a gift from Fury himself when your therapist expressed your love for music.

As Natasha lowers the phone from your face, you gently jump in surprise, then take the headphones off.

“Hi.” She says. “We’re going to be eating dinner, I’m sorry if people ignored you.”

You don’t respond, just nod.

“I’m Natasha.” She introduces as you stand from your corner, and she looks you over.

Your shoes were not laced up, you had knee high socks on that the hem of your dress dusted. A much too large sweater hung over your frame to help keep your body temperature warm, though it doesn’t help too much.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to sneak you out and we’re going to the mall. Okay?” She tells you, feeling bad that you’re wearing clothes S.H.E.I.L.D pieced together from a donation bin.

You look at your outfit and then nod, enjoying the idea of wearing pants.

You trail behind this sudden new friend, still intimidated by the large size of the facility. Soon, you enter the more comforting area of the compound and the full table of faces greet you with unsure smiles.

“Sit here.” Natasha says, pointing to the empty chair between her and Steve.

You do just that, but what you don’t expect is for the face across from you to be so…tense.

Bucky came to dinner after Raynor said all the right words to piss him off. He needed to prove her wrong, needed to prove that he could socialize…he just chose not to…and he had to be here for the new project plan in the morning. But what he didn’t think was going to happen was the girl that’s been tormenting him for a month to come and sit across from him. Your outfit was strange and pieced together, your long hair was in a braid that laid on your shoulder, you sat there with confusion and unsureness as everyone began to eat and talk.

You stayed completely silent.

“You don’t need permission to eat.” Steve softly whispers as a reminder as he sees your hesitation.

Right.

Free will.

You had that now.

Utensils scraped on plates, people joked and laughed, you just ate in the most polite way possible.

Bucky stared.

And most get uncomfortable by it, but you just stare back. It’s not a glare, there’s no meaning of anger behind it, it’s just a shared expression that catches the attention of the ones around you.

“Oh great, we got another one that stares.” Sam exclaims.

Steve clears his throat. “That’s James, or Bucky, whatever you want to call him.” He tells you, and of course you don’t respond, just hold the strange eye contact.

Bucky’s the first to break, he talks a gulp of water and looks away.

Tony breaks up the awkwardness. “Alright, Five? Is that what they’re calling you? Your room is next to Nat’s, remember? So that’s where you go after your infusion.”

You nod, and it raised confusion.

“Infusion?” Steve asks as you stare at your spoonful of mashed potatoes before taking the bite.

Tony looks at you, almost expecting you to answer the Captains question. You’re distracted though with finishing your meal to show you are appreciative of their kindness.

So Tony continues. “There’s just some things she needs until we can ween her off of it.”

You hate the way he says it, with pity like you’re a sick animal. A junky.

Your plate is clean now, you put your dirty utensils on it and then finish your water.

No one notices this habit except for Bucky.

Because he remembers doing that. He remembers completing tasks so carefully and waiting for either approval or a slap in the face. It makes him feel odd, makes him want to reach across the table and knock your neat work over.

You pull the sleeves of the chunky sweater over your hands, feeling a wave of tiredness sweep through you as well as that almost violent shiver of coldness. Everyone is lost in conversation about what the plan was for tomorrow, but you feel that teasing heat source radiate beside you and can’t help the way you lull towards it.

“Is this normal?” Steve asks as he feels the way you lean into his side, like a reptile to a heat lamp.

You’re asleep in an instance.

Bruce frowns. “The place she came from had her on a lot of bad stuff…the doctors who were assigned to her at SHEILD say her nerves are kind of shot. That’s why she’s always cold. As far as the falling asleep thing…well, she’s kind of traumatized so that tends to make people exhausted.”

Everyone gets very quiet, and Bucky knows that look on his best friend’s face. His brows are creased, eyes a little sad as he looks down at you. That means one thing only, that he was going to go full Captain America mode and try and save you.

“Is that what the team meeting is about in the morning?” Natasha asks. “Her situation?”

Tony nods. “Looks like you and Sleepy the dwarf have some things in common.”

- - - -

Everyone left the dining room, but Bucky lingered momentarily.

He stared at that damn plate.

Steve had woken you up and sent you to the MedBay, you made sure things looked perfect before you went.

Now, he reaches out and messes the whole thing up before Wanda - who’s on dish duty because she could clean everything up in two seconds- catches him.

“Buck, hey.” Steve says as he finds his friend heading to his spare room that he stays in when there’s things to do early in the morning.

The two super soldiers walk in silence for a moment before Steve speaks up.

“She scares you, doesn’t she?” He asks.

Bucky lies. “Why would she scare me?”

“Because she’s in the same position you were in.”

Bucky clenches his teeth, cursing his friend’s intuition.

What was he supposed to say? That he wanted to stay far away from you for some unknown reason? That part of him wishes he wasn’t the one to rescue you? Or that he wants to ask you every question he has and try to figure out the way your brain works?

He can’t say any of that.

So he just avoids the statement all together. “Yeah, well you’re gonna tuck her under your wing just because she’s needy, so you shouldn’t be asking me about her, Pal.” He jokes with a smile.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Oh come on, give me a break, alright?”

As they stop in front of Bucky’s room, Sam happens to pass them.

“You gonna get a haircut?” He asks Bucky.

The soldier glares. “Does my hair just offend everyone now?”

File 4

[revasserium]

reqs are open :)

the butterfly effect

tsukishima; 1,285 words; fluffy as all living fuck

he has always noticed the little things - the deep, rumbling hunger of the earth, the repeating shuffle of the summer wind, the soft tectonic movements of falling leaves, the velocities of birdsong. and even though he’d never admit it out loud (alright, maybe once or twice to yamaguchi, but does that even count?), he thinks that these are the important things. things that normal people wouldn’t notice, things that normal people take for granted.

“well, it’s just a high school club.”

is it?

“ah, i’m the normal guy, nice to meet you.”

are you?

after the match, you find him hunched over the basin in the boy’s bathroom, panting, his bandaged fingers clutching at the time-stained ceramic, his shoulders shaking as he tries to relearn the meaning of breath, of air, of only and just.

“you’re a liar,” you say, leaning against the bathroom door, keeping it propped open with your shoulder.

“and you’re not suppose to be in here,” he deadpans, glancing at you in the watermarked mirror. he sighs, splashing his face with his good hand before twisting off the faucet. slowly, he unbends himself, straightening up to his full height, dragging the back of his injured hand over his lips as he turns towards you.

“c’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are, and i don’t need anymore rumors of us dating going around school.”

his voice is calm, his expression neutral as he brushes passed you, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow him like motion-based trackers; he can almost feel the crosshairs on his too-flushed cheeks, on his water-logged lashes. he turns back to raise an eyebrow. his heart is the flatline of an earthquake city, his stomach a tangle of twisted phone lines, all static and electricity and unsaid words.

“ah… so you have heard of them,” you muse even as you fall into step next to him.

he scoffs, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

“people at school aren’t known for their tact, especially not about things like this.”

you grin, linking your hands behind your back as you dance three steps in front of him, reveling in the way he narrows his eyes, in the way his steps stutter. he isn’t the only one who’s learned to listen to the language of silence, to the spaces between the words that give them meaning, that make them whole.

“and by people you really mean the second years, right?”

tsukishima sighs, tugging off his sports glasses to polish the lenses with the edge of his sweat-soaked shirt. you watch as he diligently wipes down one lens, and then the other, before stretching it back over his head, adjusting the straps.

“well, tanaka and noya, first and foremost.”

your laughter shakes through him like silver bells. he thinks he’d never get tired of the sound, and suddenly, it is winter and the sky is dark and the first snow of the season is falling around you and you’re laughing, spinning in circles beneath the snow-drift sky, your face turned up to the heavens, arms stretched out as if you’re three seconds from taking flight —

“tsukki! look! look! snow!”

he resists the urge to smile so he rolls his eyes instead; his breath comes out in a puff of white and somewhere out there, he knows that a hundred thousand other kids just like them are lifting their faces, marveling at the falling snow. he knows that somewhere along a stretch of land only 73 miles wide in mexico, a hundred million monarch butterflies are settling in to roost for the winter, and that each flap of those hundred million wings might shake a summer storm into existence, somewhere down the line.

“yeah. i see it.”

but right here, right now, in this rapidly emptying gymnasium hall, filled with the effervescent echoes of teenage dreams, he wonders if you are the hurricane. if you are the summer storm, and he is just the seismograph doomed to record your wreckage.

“so, what are you gonna do about it?” you ask, as the both of you resume your walk down the hall, towards where you both know the team is waiting, the third years still crying, hinata still hollering, kageyama too bloated with happiness to tell him to shut the hell up, yamaguchi probably preening beneath the praise of all his teammates.

“about the rumors, or about us not actually dating?”

you purse your lips, you shrug, but you blush as well. he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders lift up towards your ears, sweet and shy as sunflowers reaching for the last drop of sunlight.

“either. both,” you turn with a devious grin and flash him a wink, and not for the first time, tsukishima thinks he feels that deep, rumbling hunger; he knows the repeating shuffle of his thoughts about you, the soft tectonic movements of your body and his.

he knows the velocity of your voice, the resonance of your smiles, the way it shakes loose the sky within him till he almost tastes that sweet first snow, all that wake and wonder.

“hm… i dunno. you did call me a liar earlier.”

his grin is savage, satisfied. he almost laughs as your entire body inflates with indignation. he wonders how long he can tease you for before you float right off the ground — someday, he wants to try.

“well you are.”

“what, by saying i was normal?”

“yes, and that this was just a club.”

he blinks, he didn’t know you’d remembered. but then again, he should’ve known.

“well. it is, and… i am.”

you frown, taking three steps closer, caging him in even though he knows that he’s got at least a foot over you — a whole head and a half taller, and still —

“liar,” you say.

“hm… and what are you gonna do about it?”

he knows it’s coming three seconds before it does, but it doesn’t feel any less shocking. the warmth of your lips on his, the half-stolen breath still poised in his chest, the widening of his eyes before they flutter closed. there are no fireworks, no explosions, no earthquakes or natural disasters. there’s just this moment, just him and you and your lips on his and —

you take half a step back.

he allows himself a smile.

because he’d never wanted them to just be rumors and he knew that he’d never, ever be considered normal. not by you, or him, or anyone else.

“ahhh… now you’ve done it,” he says, with a soul-rumbling sigh, reaching out to jab his finger into your cheek. he marvels at the way your eyes still widen, as if you never saw that coming.

“done what?” you ask, even as he reaches out to tug on the ends of your ponytail, making you laugh.

“tch. you know what,” he scoffs, tucking his hands into his pockets as he slinks passed you, his eyes cast up, his cheeks tingling with a blush he can’t quite tamp down. and when you hurry to catch up with him, bumping your arm into his, he doesn’t make to move away. instead, he bumps you back and basks in the way your footsteps sound, ringing out against the empty gymnasium halls.

because, sure, this might just be a high school relationship — or it just might be falling in love.

and as he reaches down, hesitates, and finally, finally grabs your hand, somewhere out there, he feels a butterfly flap its wings.

[writinground2]

Not a Threat - Jessie Fleming

Based off this request - Jessie gets tackled badly leaving her unconscious and reader is really angry and protective.

“Not worth the card Y/N,” Jessie pushed both hands into Y/N’s chest, pushing her away from the ref. 

“There needs to be a fucking card, and he knows it!” Y/N let herself be pushed away, but still motioned to the ref over Jesse’s shoulder to the ref. 

The game was only twenty minutes in, but there were several hard tackles directed at the Chelsea offence. The ref had only given the Arsenal players warnings, being far more generous than he should be. 

“The cards will come, just play your game,” Jessie pushed Y/N back into position. 

Y/N huffed but gave a stiff nod and made her way to line up for the free kick. 

The rest of the half continued the same fashion. Chelsea players spending more and more time on the ground, some slower to get up. Jessie having taken the brunt of the Arsenal defence. They tried sending Fleming on quick runs in, hoping keeping her in motion would prevent the defence from sticking to her. After a few full speed tackles, sending her skidding across the pitch, they dropped her to midfield. Midfield wasn’t any better, if gave Arsenal a chance to mark her tighter, bodying her around. 

As the players made their way back out of the tunnel to start the second half, Y/N stepped into McCabes space, stopping her just out of the sight of the field. 

“You even think of touching Fleming again, I will put you down like a fucking dog, you hear me?”

McCabe didn’t say anything, just tilted her head up, working to keep her glare in place. Y/N stepped closer, chests touching and forcing McCabe to step back to avoid her toes being stepped on. 

“I said, do you hear me?”

“Don’t threaten my players,” Leah came around the corner, McCabes glare slipping the longer Y/N towered over her. 

“I’m not threatening anyone,” she kept her eyes firmly on Katie’s, “just telling your girl here what will happen if she doesn’t clean it up.” 

Y/N gave her a smirk when she saw the crack in McCabes tough exterior, turning and running to join her team on the field without another word.

It seemed Y/N’s words had their desired effect, McCabe actively avoiding Fleming, giving her more chances to run into the box. Quickly putting Chelsea ahead. 

Y/N could see the frustration mounting on the Irish player. She could see that Katie wanted to run and mark Jessie quicker, but there was a hesitation before taking off to cover her. 

Chelsea uses this to their advantage, pushing their line high, forcing Arsenal on their heels and to drop their line back. Jessie was able to slip in behind their line as Y/N chipped the ball over the defenders. 

Jessie can tap it forward enough with her chest before side stepping the keeper, pulling her out of position, she’s able to casually strike the ball. Just as the ball leaves her boot, studs connect harshly with her planted leg, sending her tumbling forward. Her momentum sends her into the keeper her had been rushing to get back into position, sending both tumbling in a pile. 

Celebration for the goal abruptly ends when Fleming doesn’t get up when the keeper gingerly climbs off her. Y/N immediately at her side, helping her roll over.

The medics are already running onto the field as Jessie is looking around bleary. Y/N explained that she had been unconscious for a second before coming to again. The medics motioned her out of the way to fully assess the midfielder.

Y/N immediately turns and sets her sights on the Irish woman that’s arguing with the ref. She can see Arsenal players pulling her away, trying to direct her to leave the field. Y/N ignores it all and narrows her eyes. 

A strong arm curls around her waist, lifting her off her feet and pulling her away before she can move towards the group. She tries to fight the grip unsuccessfully, thrashing wildly.

“She’s already got the red, don’t do anything stupid,” Millie shouts at her, struggling to keep her in place. 

“Fuck that!” Y/N doubles her effort as Katie makes her way past to leave the field, “I told you what would happen McCabe!” 

Sam appeared in her face, helping Millie contain Y/N, “Jess is up, go check on her.”

That deflated Y/N’s anger instantly, she stopped resisting both players and turned back to see Jessie getting to her feet. Wobbling in place for a second while both medics kept her balanced. Y/N walked backwards with them, eyes scanning up and down Jessies body, looking for injuries. 

“I’m alright,” Jessie whispers, she keeps her eyes down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 

Y/N just looked to one of the medics for a better answer about what was wrong. 

“Probably concussion, we’ll do a full check in the back.”

Y/N nodded, she paused at the sideline, watching helplessly as Jessie slowly continued down the tunnel. 

With only minutes left in the game and Arsenal down a player and a few goals, the reds dropped to focus on defence, wanting the game to end without any more goals. 

Y/N takes off down the tunnel as soon as the whistle is blown, ignoring the calls of fans or other players, only focusing on finding her girlfriend. 

The lights are off when she gets to the medical room. She softly closes the door behind her, toeing her cleats off, wanting to avoid any additional sound she possibly can. Jessie is still fully in her kit, arm thrown over her face. 

“I’m alright,” Jessie mumbles, pulling her arm, looking over to Y/N. 

“Liar,” Y/N grins at her, “how’s the noggin?” she places a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“Muffled,” Jesse shuffles to the edge of the bed to press her forehead into Y/N’s stomach, “little headache, but the ringing is really bad, stuffs really bright and loud.” 

Y/N nodded, gentling massaging the back of Jessie’s neck. They stood wrapped in each other for a moment, “let’s get you changed and ready to go before anyone else gets in.” 

Jessie nods but makes not move to pull away. Y/N chuckles, nudging her away slightly, “I’ll be right back,” she drops a quick kiss to her forehead before rushing out of the room. 

She pushed through the doors leading to the change room, ripping her jersey off as she walked. Throwing her dirty kit into the laundry, she pulled on her own clothes, shoving her everything in her bag before grabbing all Jessies clothing too. She forced herself to slow down and not slam the door open on her return to the medical room. 

Jessie is sitting up when she comes back in, elbows resting on her knees. Y/N gently drops the bags to the floor next to the bed. 

“Ready?” Y/N tugs the bottom of Jessies jersey, signalling she’ll start there to change her. 

Jessie straightens up a bit, helping pull her jersey and then undershirt off while Y/N pulls out a clean shirt and hoodie. 

Y/N pulls the wheelie stool over and grabs Jessies booted feet to rest in her lap to unlace both before gently pulling them and her socks off. Jessie hisses as the sock coms past the bruise from McCabes studs. Y/N muttered an apology, dropping a delicate kiss to the centre of the bruise. 

“I’m going to kill her.”

“You’re much too picky an eater for jail,” Jessie teases. 

Y/N pushes the stool out of the way as she stands, guiding Jessies hands to her shoulder to help balance her while she stands. Keeping her in place, she pushes her shorts past her hips to pool on the floor. Jessie sits back down while Y/N bunches her pants around her ankles, so they just need to pull them up when she stands up. 

Sitting back down, Jessie watches Y/N rummage around her bag, pulling out a pair of sunglasses for the walk to the bus. 

Millie is quick to take both their bags from Y/N as they walk through the change room, telling her to focus on getting the midfielder to the bus. Both offer a thanks and make slow work of the walk to the bus. 

They both ignore their names being called in the hallway and outside. Some fans quickly quiet down seeing the discomfort Fleming is clearly in, some shouting louder their displeasure of being ignored. 

Fleming lets out a sigh of relief as soon as she settled into her seat. She struggles to keep the sunglasses in place while settling on her side with her head in Y/N’s lap, but eventually finds a place. 

Everyone is quiet as they make their way on the bus, gently patting Jessie’s shoulder as they walk past. Y/N works her fingers into Jesses neck and shoulders, her other hand rubbing up and down her side.   

[frogchiro]

I just finished the world quest with Jeht and Azariq and please I'm in love with the Stone Enchanter model. I need him to pin me down and crush me istg

If this makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it, but I'm imagining MC being this sheltered Rainforest scholar hiring a group of Eremites to escort her on a mission, only for the weather to turn bad and oh we all have to hunker down for an extended period of time and she's worried that the Eremites will leave once the money runs out but they're just taking the opportunity to get close to their little lady.

Alternatively, doctor!MC who is the primary medic in the camp and she's always there to take care of everyone. What do you mean that Daythunder tripped face first into her tits on purpose? Can't you see that he's hurt??? Yes he needs to squeeze her hips, it's for balance! Honestly 🙄

Alternatively alternatively, barmaid!MC who serves a certain group of Eremites and she's theirs alone. No one else touches her except them, and they love playing with her regardless of who else is looking. Groping her tits when she bends down to pour drinks, grabbing her ass when she turns around, biting her nipple through the sheer fabric of her top if she doesn't escape fast enough etc. (I feel like you wrote this before? I think)

I really just let my hands run away from me adfhk I hope you're doing well! 🌺

darling, I am so incredibly normal about this you have no idea i'm currently biting at the bars of my enclosure

also this turned out way longer than I intended but the brainrot was real for this one ;; the barmaid!reader hc turned out to be the longest and the smuttiest of them all but in my defense it was my absolute favorite one to write and I'm seriously asking begging you guys to please indulge me and send me all your possible barmaid!reader thots (different men, eremites, aus', whatever comes to your mind ;;)

fem!reader, nsfw, reader is implied to be chubby/curvy, LOTS of perviness and big gross pervy men <3

Rainforest Scholar!Reader who hired a group of Eremites because of an important study needing to be conducted near the dangerous territory of the Apam Woods which is known to be inhabited by dangerous fungi and other possibly hostile creatures, not to mention the ever-changing weather environment. For someone who has little-to-no combat training it's basically a suicide mission so you did the next best thing and hired a group of Eremite mercenaries, four big and scary looking men with weapons seemingly bigger than you, wild grins full of sharp teeth and smug voices telling you "It's gonna be okay Little Lady, we've got this".

Well, turned out no one 'got this'. Dear Gods no one got this. The whole journey ended up in a near disaster with a sudden wild storm striking the woods in the middle of studying a group of fungi not only making them hostile and attacking you but also during your and the mercenaries' escape and frantic search for a reletively safe place to wait out the storm you managed to slip and fall straight into a large puddle of water effectively drenching you and ruining your travel clothes.

Although you truly noticed this major detail only after holing up in some beat up shack left to rot in the forest when the cold finally started to seep into your bones. One of the men, Daythunder you believe others called him, pointed out your violent shivering making all the men in the group turn towards you with slight concern on their masked faces.

And indeed you were shivering like a scared puppy, wet clothes clinging at your form, combined with the howling wind making it almost unbearable and the small fire they managed to start did little to keep you warm.

"You need to get outta these clothes Little Lady or you'll catch your death here", a slightly smaller man of the group gruffly said and vaguely motioned towards your figure. You flushed slightly and looked down bashfully, 'Little Lady' they called you, a nickname meant to tease you at first but over the long days of your journey turned into some sort of endearment from the men towards you.

Your thoughts of embarrassment were quickly thrown away by another wave of unpleasant shivers due to your drenched state. You were well aware that if you didn't do something soon, you'd catch pneumonia and only gods know how long you'll be stuck here in the middle of nowhere with a raging storm outside. The only logical thing to do was to strip, let your clothes dry and get warm by the fire but you were surrounded by all these big men and while you trusted them to not make any unwanted moves, it was still a mortifying thought to be almost naked in such a small space among them.

However, even these thought were dissipated quickly enough when Daythunder gently lifted your chin with his finger, making your heart flutter with warmth and look up at his handsome masked face and listen to him quietly murmur that they'll keep you warm and make sure no danger will come for you, please Little Lady.

And so before long you were stripped down to your underwear, sitting in the warm lap of the large blond man, his beautiful tanned skin hot under your slowly warming body as his sturdy arms wrapped around you. Actually, the men surrounded you with their big bodies in a sort of cuddle pile, warming up not only your body but also your heart and lower belly, the tingling sensation only amplifying when you felt the sudden touch of warm, calloused fingers of Daythunder on your knees, slowly traveling up your thighs and massaging along the tired muscles making you let out an embarrassingly pleasured moan that caught the attention of all the other men, making them grin wildly again.

"Maybe being stuck here for a little longer won't hurt-" you thought to yourself before getting interrupted by ravenous hot lips of one of the men and letting out another pleased hum as you felt other big calloused hands join the others on your soft body.

Medic!Reader who is the resident healer of the tribe, and while it might be considered relatively small, her hands are almost always busy due to the group being made up by men who are considered to be hunters/mercenaries; always on the move, rarely setting camp for more than a week. Plus, life on the desert can't be considered an easy one, food and water rations are scarce, danger is common here and if you're inexperienced with this kind of environment or travels it's best if you just stay in a village or travel in a larger group.

And then there is little ol' you, a real delight to the men of the tribe, kept like the biggest treasure in the camp. Always cherished and spoiled with the best cuts of meat during meal time, gifted the softest and most delicate silks from their 'adventures', not to mention all the hot, reverent, hungry touches to your skin as they slowly mouth at the expanse of your naked, glistening bosom.

Oh yes, the life of the 'Treasure of the tribe' is good, very good even, but first and foremost you are a trained, skilled healer, your skills being utilized unfortunately almost everyday as your men just seem to not be able to keep out of danger if even for a day and you hate seeing your boys hurt.

After returning from yet another successful hunting trip all the returning men loudly announcing their arrival; loud, boisterous laughs and cheerful bellows can be heard from the enterance to the camp. You sighed deeply although a small smile made its way onto your face, judging from the loud joyous commotion outside it was a successful hunt and probably no permanent damage was done but it still meant looking after the men, cleaning and stitching cuts, applying cooling salves and balms and bandaging smaller wounds. While you were undoubtedly proud of your buys you swear that their pride and want for showing off will drive them into an early grave.

Making a last check-up on the stacked medical equipment you gathered, you got up and walked out into the blazing sun of the desert, although the scalding hot temperature slowly cooling down into a pleasant warmth with the incoming sunset.

Your enterance was met with loud greetings and whoops, the large men showing off their hunted prey, a large furred beast with claws the size of your fingers. While you definitely appreciated the sentiment and admired their strength and prowess in battle to be able to take down such a creature, you were more worried about the blood staining Daythunder's clothes. Making him sit on an wooden stump you quickly got to work as he seemed to be hurt the most; while definitely nowhere near deadly, that cut on his chest worried you.

Out of all the things you learned as a healer of a tribe full of men is that they're surprisingly childish and clingy, especially when hurt. The second he heavily sat down, Daythunder immediately grabbed onto your full hips and dragged you close to him so that no space can be between your bodies and with a heavy sigh the big tanned man shoved his face right into your tits, for the lack of better wording.

All you could do is sigh heavily, comb your hand through his braided blond hair and coo at him. The insistent touches more than familiar and no more embarrassing you, more like making a small pleasant flutter bloom in your belly as you gave the man a bit more time watching him nose along your barely clothed breasts and nuzzling against you much like a big cat.

What you didn't see, so preoccupied with Daythunder nuzzled deep into you, are the former joyful faces of the other men sour with ugly jealousy. Why weren't it them you were paying attention? They just slayed a beast too! But don't you worry pretty little Treasure, as soon as you finish with that big oaf they'll have their turn with you too.

Who would have guessed that Eremites could be so jealous~?

And now for the grande finale and my personal favorite, Barmaid!Reader!! Working as a barmaid at the only tavern in Caravan Ribat is one hell of a busy job. Living and working in a place that is literally in the middle of nowhere and simultaneously always busy with passing by merchants, mercenaries, travelers and adventurers alike can be definitely often hectic and at times even messy but it has its perks! Being able to listen to various stories, some of them sounding almost like a fairytale with how whimsical and fantastic they sound and yet they are all true is definitely one of those perks.

Another perk (definitely the best) is a particular group of Eremite men who seem to frequent Caravan Ribat, specifically the tavern you work at is their target. Not only being regulars, but also knowing them more...intimately, they are a delight to be around even with their burning jealousy and possessiveness; perhaps even more so with it.

Almost always you hear them before you see them, their loud talk among each other, deep booming voices almost reverberating through the local and just as you serve a patron their meal they enter in all their glory. Even with the crimson bandanas covering their eyes you can feel their eyes on you, burning with lust and want for their pretty little barmaid.

Greeting them with a warm smile and a warmth to your cheeks you tell them to sit down at their usual table (which by now is almost reserved only for them, no one dares to sit where they always touch down). Luckily it's a relatively slow night; all the patrons are already seated and busy either talking among each other or drinking their worries away in a bottle of ale of fire water.

With an almost jump in your step you quickly walk up to the table with the Eremites, their covered eyes never leaving your curvy figure and when you finally stand before them you can almost hear their deep growls of delight and ravenous apetite for more than a regular meal.

Deciding on being cheeky today and wanting to tease them a little, treat them as if their just another regular customers. You pull out a small paper and pencil from behind your belt and ask these 'gentlemen' for their order. They seem to catch on immediately, their grins widening, licking over their sharp canines as they relax and spread their thick muscled thighs wide open lounging around, deep gruff voices laced with lust listing of their order.

As you're diligently jot down their choices on the slip of paper, a small smile appears on your face as you feel the strong arm of Stone Enchanter slip around your middle and pull you closer to him, his enormous build making your stomach on level with his face even when he's seated, his big and rough with callouses hand caressing and grabbing onto your full hips, snapping the material of your skirt (the long material obscuring only your intimates and ass while exposing your thighs, you know this cut drives them crazy) against your hips and they laugh loudly as you take in a quick quiet breath, followed by the gentle scrape of teeth on your waist as the large man starts mouthing at your skin and to be honest you're quite embarrassed by how quickly this simple touch can get you wet.

But with this group you're so used to this that when they don't visit for a longer period of time you actually long for it. They are always like this; loud and boisterous, clingy, unapologetic and absolutely shameless with their touches and so so possessive over you.

You barely manage to write down their order with a small 'be right back sirs' when suddenly a swift swat to your bottom is delivered and the table erupts in laughs and jeers at Sunfrost that he managed to get you. It's even worse when you get back and start setting their cups down, when the hot touches and gropes come.

Your low cut top is made of a light material, almost sheer and you almost always forgo wearing a bra due to the almost unbearable heat due to the closeness to the desert and the stuffy inside of the tavern doesn't help, and you can be sure that these men take full advantage of it.

Large scarred hands grope your tits the second you bend down to pour their drinks and you almost spill it when they pull down the loose neckline and the mouthing at your waist and hips starts again.

Suddenly, you let out a small shrill cry as you're suddenly hoisted into the lap of Stone Enchanter and moan loudly at the feeling of hot lips trying to mouth at your nipples through your top, the straps falling from your shoulders from all the sudden movement much to the delight of the men at the table.

The loud atmosphere of the lively tavern concealing the lustful act, all the other patrons are either so deep into laughing with their companions or way too drunk to even look your way, but even if there are some curious eyes looking at your figure, you are way too deep into the hot, fuzzy headspace to care.

The dark skinned man holding you made you suddenly straddle him and you flush even deeper at the feeling of his hard cock grinding up against your barely clothed pussy and you can't help but moan helplessly and grab at his dark braids to pull him closer to your nipple which he's still insistently mouthing at, the scrape of his sharp teeth causing you to let out a delightful moan which only seemed to spur the turned on men further on.

This was definitely going to be a long, long night~