#Also i... Still just doubt it so hard when someone thin insist they like how my body looks or even that they prefer my body type

[mrfoox]

Each and every time I think I'm over a person, I see them or hear them and im like... Shit no they're still the cutest, I wish I could be their silly gf /:

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Knew I'd Always Crawl Back

pairing: shuri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: a question looms in the air: will you and shuri make it to your dinner reservation on time, if at all?

word count: 4373

contains: smut (18+), thigh riding, strap!shuri, multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, overstimulation, slight praise!kink, fluff at the end because romance is real!

tags: @fetchyourlife @shurisbbymama @takeyaki @n7cje @shuri-my-love @straightestgay-voice @simp4iwaizumi @bubshri @verachii

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: lmaoooo, all i can do is laugh, truly. i wrote this whilst high, so i hope it's coherent? idk. i'm so in love with shuri y'all like this is crazy pants! shouts out to my mutual for translation help! enjoy <33

translations: sthandwa - my love, mtuwam - my person, bambo'lwami - my other half

════

part two | part one

“How much longer until you're ready, sthandwa? I can only sit still for so long.” Shuri groaned from her seat in front of your vanity.

You stuck your head out from your closet as you put in your second earring, “I only need a little while longer.”

“Might want to pick up the pace!” She was annoyed, understandably. You’d given her that exact same response seven times already. She was patient at first, but it was wearing thin now.

Shuri showed up an hour earlier than your agreed upon time, no doubt for this exact reason. She was aware of how long it took you to get ready. This being your first date since getting back together, officially, did not help.

Your nerves were bouncing around like children hopped up on too much sugar. It reminded you of your jitters when you first asked her out. She’d made you wait an entire week before making up her mind, only to admit her answer was never not going to be yes.

Your girlfriend and her games. Your girlfriend. It felt amazing being able to call her that again. Three weeks apart dragged on like three years. It made you realize Shuri was a part of you, her presence sewed into your body and mind. A presence you refused to live without.

The conversation the two of you had about your future unraveled many emotions and thoughts that went unsaid for weeks. You finally opened up to each other about the pain and the loss being felt on both sides in a healthy way. It was hard, and raw, and it was real. It was the most honest conversation either of you had ever had. Having someone who accepts you at your most vulnerable was a rarity, but the ancestors sent you Shuri. And for that, you were most grateful.

The dust had settled, and that chapter of your lives was now closed, tied up with a happy ending thankfully. Tonight was a night of celebration. Shuri decided a romantic dinner at one of the most elite restaurants in the city was a good way to do that.

“Nothing that takes too long, please.” She’d said, insisting on needing to have you home and undressed beneath her as soon as humanly possible. You could not lie, you were just as impatient as her, maybe a bit more. She had refrained from touching you since that night in the club, and instructed you to refrain from touching yourself. It was pure torment, but torment you knew would be worth it.

Something that subsided your neediness was knowing she longed for your touch just as you did hers. Her little whimpers every time you brushed up against her in any way was evidence enough. Shuri did not know you were privy to this information, and you were going to have your fun with that.

You stepped away from the mirror inside your closet and stood under the threshold. “How do I look?” Her lip bite at the sight of you was immediate, and you smiled. She took in the way your velvet dress embraced your hips and curves. Your earrings dangled aimlessly as you posed for her, right arm extended above your wild curls. The heels you chose were the most uncomfortable pair you owned, but they were also the most elegant, and they matched your dress.

“You look…” The twinkle of awe in her eye was answer enough. You strutted towards her and not once did Shuri rip her gaze away from you. Knowing that your girlfriend was completely and utterly enamored with your very existence was a powerful feeling. It was a feeling you reveled in.

“Thank you, mtuwam, but I still believe my outfit is missing something.”

She slanted her head as if to disagree, “What could it possibly be missing?”

“My necklace.” Your pout was mighty, and so was her smile, but she said nary a word.

You stood in front of her and her eyes fixed on your chest, eyeing your cleavage without a drop of shame. Part of the reason you chose the dress you were in, was to garner that reaction out of her. You bent over a tad, pushing your boobs in her face just enough to keep her in her trance.

“I need this seat.” Your whisper was sweet and seductive. You were unsure if she heard you because she had yet to move a muscle. Shuri’s mouth hung agape as she salivated before you.

She shook her head then, blinking at you, “Pardon?”

“The seat. I need it.” You gestured to the chair in front of your vanity she’d been perched on while you got dressed with a small smirk.

Shuri cleared her throat, “Why? Are you not ready to go? You look ready to me.”

“I am ready. I just need to put my hair up, and then we may leave.”

Her eyes flickered to your chest again before she spoke, “If that is all you need to do then have a seat right here and do it.” She patted her thigh and smiled up at you. You gave her an eyeroll, but followed her instruction nonetheless. Her satisfied little grin was worth it you supposed.

You placed yourself in her lap and began grabbing fist fulls of your fro, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. Pretending not to notice the way Shuri gawked at you in the mirror was amusing, it seems you were incorrect about being more impatient than she was.

As you did your hair, you found your body moving to the song that played, grinding into Shuri’s thigh. The small amount of friction it brought you was thrilling. She did not seem to notice what you were doing. Good. Every few minutes, you would adjust yourself on her lap, swallowing the moan threatening to escape you.

It was risky, but Shuri busying herself with her Kimoyo beads left the opportunity wide open. You moved up and down as carefully as possible, trying to concentrate on your hair. Soft shallow breaths were all that you allowed yourself, but oh did you need more. The sensation, your clit on her clothed thigh, left your chest heavy.

You let your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to get caught. “You're not as sneaky as you believe yourself to be, you know.”

Her voice startled you and all your attempts to feign innocence were rendered useless. Lips pressed against your ear sent shivers down your spine. You exhaled a long, lengthy breath and shut your eyes tight.

“Okay. I’m ready to go now.” Attempting to hide the shake in your voice was difficult, and Shuri was buying none of what you were selling. You tried standing up, but she held you in place.

Her huff of laughter was one you knew well; she was scheming. “You may be ready to go, but I'm not. You made a mess on my pants.” She gestured to her leg, and sure enough, there was a small wet spot staring right back at you. Curling into yourself was an option, and the thought gnawed at your brain the longer time went on. This could not bode well for you.

“Now you must finish what you started.” Your eyes met hers in the mirror, and there were remnants of a smirk there.

“What?”

“I know you aren't wearing any panties under this little dress, sthandwa.”

Your eyes turned pleading as you watched her reflection. Shuri had warned you about the consequences if she found out you’d been pleasing yourself without her permission. And not only did you go against her, but you did it in her presence. “We're going to miss our reservation if we don't hurry.”

You stood, and she pulled you back down. “We aren't going anywhere until you finish what you started, my darling.” You knew that tone of voice well too, there was no arguing with her now.

You begged once more, but to no avail. Slowly, slowly, slowly, you opened your thighs. There was a small squish, and you began to rub your sensitive bud on the previous spot.

“I know you want to go faster, go ahead.” You picked up the pace and your breathing did the same. Small whines climbed up your throat as you rode Shuri’s thigh. It felt good; better than good, perfect. You were growing wetter with each hump, and her eyes did not move from the image of you in the mirror.

Your clit twitched at the contact, growing more and more sensitive. Shuri watched your breast jump with your movements, eyes glazed over, lust darkening their hue. Her lips were on your neck then, kissing right below your ear. Back pressed against her front, you threw your head back as you slid your pussy up and down her thigh.

Small, wet sounds were becoming audible as you approached your climax. Your pussy was dripping all over her pants. She did not seem to care, and neither did you. Your pace was a force to be reckoned with as you moaned, loud and booming. Shuri’s mouth and tongue were all over your throat, but not once did her hands move from your hips as she steadied you. With a small bounce of her thigh, she added to the sinister sensation.

You kept grinding into her, breathing heavily as you built yourself up. “That's it. I love that look on you.” Her words sent you almost immediately. And there it was, that feeling you were missing; that feeling Shuri denied you on the dancefloor. Your first orgasm in months. It filtered through you, filling your bones and muscles, and your entire nervous system. Your toes curled in your shoes and your riding rhythm faltered.

You cried out as it washed through you in the way waves do, groaned until you rode it out. A feeling you wish you could bottle. Orgasmic; the perfect name for the most perfect feeling.

Sleepiness overtook you, but you knew you weren't getting off that easy. “That was amazing, but I’m afraid my pants are ruined now.”

Shuri removed her hand from your hip, sliding ringed fingers through your damp, swollen folds. You hissed at the feeling, needing a minute to wind down. But you could not stop her, your body limp against hers.

“You're drenched.” She rubbed gentle circles on your used clit and you attempted to wiggle out of her touch. It only caused her to chuckle. Shuri dipped one of her fingers into your leaking hole, thrusting it in and out a few times before bringing it to her lips.

She hummed when your cum hit her tongue, “Oh I've missed this taste.”

“We're going to be late for dinner.” It was all you could manage, but you knew your words meant nothing.

Your eyelids hung low as you watched Shuri in the mirror. Her face let you know the only thing on the menu tonight was you, and Shuri was raised to believe you must always finish your food. “I want you out of this ridiculously short dress, and on the bed.”

Lazily, you practically crawled to your bed, the lastings of your orgasm still weighing you down. Your attempts to unzip your dress failed, so you turned to Shuri, “Help?”

Her smile pulled you in as she stood and came towards you. Your eyes traveled to her pant leg and the mess you made, and there was a warm fuzzy feeling within. She eased up behind you, running fingers up your arms and down your back before slowly sliding your zipper down. She kissed your shoulder, then your neck and you sighed into it.

Shuri guided your dress straps from your body, tugging gently at the fabric. She couldn't even wait for you to be completely out of it. As soon as your breasts were exposed, she cupped large handfuls of them and your eyes rolled back when she pinched your nipples.

“Does that feel good my dear?” She rolled your buds between her fingers, shooting pleasure right down to your achy sex. Wetness rolled down both of your legs, pulling you closer to yet another release. “I need to hear you say it, sthandwa. Tell me how it feels.”

She pinched harder and you yelped, “It feels so good.”

“Good. On the bed for me.” You stepped out of your dress completely and did as she instructed, climbing onto your comfy mattress and settling in. Shuri undressed herself at the foot of the bed, ripping off her suit piece by piece until she was left only in her unbuttoned dress shirt. The sight of her like that was overwhelming; prowling and hungry, and it just might be your favorite look on her.

Grabbing your ankles, Shuri pulled you closer to the edge and you giggled shyly. “Tell me, how long has it been since you last felt my lips on that pretty cunt of yours?”

“Too long.” You huffed and she nodded. Desperation lodged inside your bones at the thought of her going down on you.

She opened your legs and you shivered. “Do you miss it?”

“Terribly.” Your response was a whisper that she swallowed. She leaned forward to kiss you hastily, sucking on your tongue. Pulling away, her lips began to wander your lower body and you whined. Tattooed fingers hovered over your most delicate as she pulled your right nipple into her mouth. When her digits sunk into you, a cry sprung free and your head flew backwards in pure delight.

Feeling her spread her fingers inside of you as she lapped your nipple, swirling her tongue around it with every suck, drove you crazy. Her fingers worked you with skillful precision, causing you to squirm and tangle in your sheets. Teeth grazed your abdomen, descending down, down, down. She stopped where she fucked you before looking up, catching your eyes.

“Look at me while I devour you, let me see those eyes.” And you did. You drank in her dazed sunburnt irises as she wrapped her soft mouth around your swollen clit. Shuri’s slurps and sucks rang in your ears and your screams rang in hers, mingling in the air. She continued the thrusting of her fingers, sloshing around in your wetness and your cum from your first orgasm, just as you approached your second.

Brown eyes fixed on brown eyes all the while. Not once did she break her stare, and you did not dare break yours. Her tongue replaced her fingers and your hips lurched upward in pleasure. In and out, in and out. She lapped you up, making your head spin like a top.

Shuri pushed your hips back into the mattress and you squirmed, “Stay still.” It was a command you needed not to challenge. The pressure she put on your hips was sure to leave bruises in the morning, and the thought only turned you on more. You loved when she marked you as hers alone.

Your hands traveled to her head, tangling in her curls as you cupped it. Hearing her moan from the act of eating your pussy like a starved animal was single handedly going to do you in.

“Stick out your tongue.” You managed in between heavy breathing.

When she obliged, you created your own rhythm, rubbing your nub back and forth against her. Her hums of enjoyment pushed you to continue, only amplifying your sensation. Hips stuttered and vision blurred, your second orgasm swimming through you within seconds. “That's it dear, make a mess all over my face.”

“Yes, my Queen.” You breathed out strings of curses, humping Shuri’s face to drag your pleasure out. Sensational. And you only wanted more. You pulled her up to kiss you, and to cheekily get a taste of you on her. Grinning into the kiss, she sent her hand down to your hole again, pumping you softly. The kiss was heated and swoon worthy, your juices covering both of your lips.

When you flipped her, positioning her under you, it surprised her. A lone smirk formed on your lips and she matched it. “Your turn, my Queen.”

Warm tender kisses peppered her jaw, lips sucking anxiously. Your tongue trailed from her neck tattoo, down her throat, to peck the space between her breasts. It was slow and drawn out, and Shuri’s restlessness roared awake. It was what you planned for. You kissed her abs sweetly, then traveled back up her chest. Her groans of annoyance only egged you on. Reaching for her hand, you wrapped your fingers around her wrist, guiding it to her own soaking sex.

“Show me how you want it, mtuwam.” Shuri’s fingers, still coated in your slick, pushed through her wet folds. Slithering down the length of her body, you settled in between her damp thighs and watched her play with herself. Her movements were swift and jittery; a little too eager for your liking. “Slow down love.”

Extending your hand to her nipple seemed like the best way to intensify her pleasure, so it was what you did. Her groans were so pitiful; music to your ears. You clamped down with great strength and she screeched.

She tried slipping a finger inside herself, and you intervened then, replacing her digits with your own.

Revving Shuri up for a release was your only goal as your thumb massaged her throbbing clit. Sweet, sweet release, it was what she deserved for being so damn perfect. You lowered your mouth to her pussy, diving head first into her ocean. Instinctively, your tongue drove into her tight warmth, and she sobbed above you. Your own moans surged through her as you fucked and sucked.

Shuri’s body thrashed on the bed and her toes curled. She was close, and you had the power to take her all the way there. Having the Queen of Wakanda fiending for your tongue and fingers deep inside her was the ultimate power move. Royalty bowed to no one, usually, but her Royal Highness bowed to you.

“Is her Majesty going to come for me?” You looked up at her and the view was heavenly. She nodded, tweaking her nipples. Shuri’s back shot off the bed at the feeling of three fingers entering her. “There you go baby.”

When she came there was a few seconds of silence, followed by a slew of blasphemous lines. Eyes stamped shut and legs twitching uncontrollably. Grunts flew this way and that. You pumped her still, needing to feel her clench around you for a little while longer. You pulled your digits out of her soon after, and pushed them through her lips. “Open.”

“You taste fantastic. Won’t you agree?” She nodded with a cum glazed smile, catching her breath.

You climbed up to lay beside her, propping yourself up on your elbow. Admiring her beauty was your favorite thing to do. Flawlessness existed in the form of your girlfriend.

Her voice was groggy when she spoke, “I hope you know we are not finished.”

“I do know.” Your squeal was high pitched and it made Shuri giggle. Her shirt hung off her shoulder as she bent over for her bag. She returned with a box you knew well; too well.

A beckoning finger pulled you to the edge of the bed. It took only seconds for her to pop it open and you flinched, eyes widening.

“New?”

She nodded, “Brand new, for you.” She removed the toy from its resting place and you examined it. Bigger than the last one; sleeker, thicker. It both enthralled and alarmed you, a combination you enjoyed. Shuri placed the strap just above her crotch, and the harness materialized as her panther suit does. You bit your lip in excitement.

“Hands and knees.” You did as she said, arching your back in the process. She ran her fingers down the crook of your spine and you relaxed. Towering behind you like a shadow — Shuri positioned herself for intrusion.

Leisurely, she grabbed your hips, slipping into you. Her first thrust was measured and calculated, making sure you could take it. The stretch burned wonderfully, as you pushed back on her, signaling her to move. “You don't have to be gentle with me.”

“It was never my plan to be gentle.” Her last words before pulling out and plunging back into your cunt. You plummeted into your pillows with your screams as Shuri plowed you. Long deep strokes, bringing forth grunts from her. You knew she felt the pleasure rush too, through her design.

Squelching, and sounds of skin slapping skin bounced off the walls with the way Shuri ravaged you. Biting down on your pillow was the only way to keep yourself from crying your throat raw. She pulled out, slapping it against your puffy pussy, then dove back in. “Take it, all of it. I love the sounds you make for me.”

Fucking you was Shuri’s favorite thing to do. Nothing else apart from her work entranced her this much. And you loved performing for her, loved putting yourself on display with your moans and wails. You looked back at her working you, catching her watching herself move in and out of your tight pussy. Bottom lip between her teeth as she smirked.

The toy disappeared and reemerged meticulously, coaxing your orgasm out. Superpowered thrusts shook your bed, and the very walls of your room.

Your knees began their inevitable buckling; legs shook, and shuri knew you were close again, “Not yet. Want you to ride me.”

She slithered out your weary hole and you collapsed, crossing your thighs tight.

“Spread those legs, need you on top.” She laid on her back, holding the base of the sopping strap and waited for you to mount her.

Sinking down onto it opened you wider than you thought possible, and you basked in it, as tired as you were. “You’ve got this baby, I know you do.”

Her words of encouragement helped you persist until the shaft was all the way inside you.

Shuri grinned with pride, “Perfect.”

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down, creating a steady pace as you placed your hands on her chest. She guided your hips, fucking up into you all the while. Slamming yourself down on her over, and over, and over made your bed creak. You rode her with greed — starvation unabashed as you moaned like a mad man.

She soaked up the vibrations your bouncing created, and her own desperate whimpers rose in volume. The tip brushed over that special spot inside you again and again, yanking your orgasm front and center. Senses heightened as your tower of pleasure grew tall. Up, up, up. The sky was the limit.

Shuri nodded up at your fucked out features, knowing you were at your peak. She wove your fingers together, bringing your knuckles to her lips for the ghost of a kiss. Sweat trickled down the both of you as your grunts unified. She was close too. Amazing.

“Come on, make me proud sthandwa.” Her words were lightning, striking right where you needed to knock your tower all the way over. All consuming ecstasy; encompassing euphoria.

One last hump, one last thrust, and you were both coming. “Shuri!”

Her name velveteen as it escaped you.

Moans were all that could be heard as she writhed beneath you. Magnificent, melodious moans. She pulled out and you immediately missed the feeling of being filled. Slumped on top of her, your breathing fell in sync, chests rising and falling as one. She laughed when you rolled beside her in the sheets, nuzzling into her and letting your orgasm whisk you into slumber.

•••

The sweet smell of dewy night air tugged you from your sleep. Curtains danced without a care in the wind as you adjusted your eyes to the darkness. Reaching out for Shuri’s warmth, you were met with only emptiness. That was when you panicked. Shuri had never once left you in bed alone after sex.

You sat up frantically, slipping into her shirt laid beside you. Calling for her, you attempted to climb out of bed. The soreness at your core had another idea, unfortunately.

“Don't worry my darling, I'm here.” Shuri sauntered in then, a tray of food clutched in both hands. You smiled when you saw her, ear to ear. She’d pulled on one of your t-shirts and a pair of boxers.

She climbed on the bed and you clapped your hands excitedly when the smell of hot food hit your nostrils. “Since we missed dinner.”

You giggled, “And whose fault was that, my Queen?”

“Certainly not mine.” She scooped spoonfuls of rice into your mouth and the flavor made you hum.

Something caught your eye in the corner of the tray as you chewed. A beige rectangular box called your name.

“Go on, open it.” You squeaked and reached for it. There sat your necklace, shiny and gold, and perfect as ever. Below it sat a matching engraved bracelet.

You picked it up as Shuri pushed your hair out the way, clasping the chain around your neck.

Abaphansi bavumile ukuba sifanaelene Thina sobabini.

The ancestors have agreed that you and I are meant to be.

“Shuri I–” You were in hysterics instantly and she smiled. She placed it around your wrist, kissing the back of your hand sweetly.

“I need you to know that… that you are it for me. You've ruined me and I refuse to have it any other way, bambo'lwami. You are everything. And please, never take this off again.” She sniffed and you nodded with teary eyes.

Shuri placed the tray on your bedside table before kissing your lips. She kissed your face, your nose, your neck, your chest. She poked your sides, tickling you and sending you into a babbling fit of laughter.

You cupped her cheeks, pecking her lips again, “To know you is to love you, and I've loved you for as long as I have known you. All my paths lead right back to you.”

Her mouth pressed to your forehead and you leaned into it, wanting to soak her all up.

[uncle-fruity]

Here's something from my brain:

Telling transmascs they shouldn't go on T because they'll "become ugly" is still rooted in patriarchal ideals & expectations. It's why every TERF is hard to take seriously when they insist they're trying to fight sexism.

What's the ugly part? The body hair? The balding? The deepening voice? The potential for weight/muscle gain?

So, by that standard, cis women with body hair, cis women who are balding, cis women who gain weight and/or muscles, and cis women with deeper-than-average voices are, BY TERF'S OWN LOGIC, ugly.

Oh? Do you think that all women are meant to be frail? Thin? Hairless bodies? Thick head of hair? Wispy "feminine" voices? What are you trying to say about how women's bodies are supposed to be? Do you think ALL women have the same body type? The same standards of beauty? Is beauty every woman's top priority? Should it be?

You know who else freaks out about "manish" women? Basically, all the people who think women are objects to be seen & not heard. All the people who think women are their sexual playthings and little more. It's a trope throughout literature & media to paint strong, outspoken women as manish & undesirable. A trope that TERFs seem happy to exploit for their own ideals. Because if they want to prescribe womanhood onto us, they must also accept that they are unhappy with the way we are living through our womanhood, and think it's reasonable to control and legislate our bodies based on their personal belief about how women should behave & think.

Being a woman is not about how pretty you are. It isn't about what you owe to the people who would rather you shut up and be demure. And for TERFs to use these insecurities that the patriarchy instills in young girls to dissuade them from making choices for themselves is honestly a disgusting tactic.

I don't even care if you (wrongly) connect biology to gender. If someone looks at me, a trans guy with ~2 years of hormone treatments under my belt, and decides that I'm an ugly woman based on the vagina they're assuming I have and probably the tits that I definitely still have, fine. Maybe it's the nonbinary in me, but if you wanna purposefully (incorrectly) call me a woman, then that shitty decision is yours to make. Now, ask yourself.... why are you mad that a woman (by your own standards) is choosing something for her own body?

These are the same people who get mad when trans guys claim historical figures like Dr. James Barry as one of our own. There's no way to tell how he'd identify if he was using modern language to describe himself without resurrecting him and asking directly. But, in the end, whether he was a woman seeking to break through barriers of sexism or whether he was a trans man in a time before we would have called him that, he chose to live a life that is similar to the one many transmascs choose for themselves. He expressed himself in a way that is familiar to transmascs. And I have no doubt that these fucko TERFs would try to belittle and tear him down just the same as they do any of us. In fact, it was a woman who undressed him against his will after he died and exposed him as a "woman" postmortem. We can't say for sure if she'd identify as a TERF if she were using modern language to describe herself without resurrecting her and asking directly, but we can safely say that she's not the kind of person I'd like to know either way. Her mother should have taught her about consent.

If I was a woman trying to escape the patriarchy by transitioning (a common, completely stupid ass take btw since everyone who isn't at the very top of the power chain is a victim of the patriarchy (among other things)), would you mock me? Admire me? Sympathize with me? Tell me I'm delusional? Call me ugly? Tell me I should think more about my ability to bear children with my womb? Would you join me in trying to escape oppression? Would you hate me for trying? Have you decided that men are the enemy, and therefore I've betrayed my sisters in a war I reject wholeheartedly? Would you hold me down? Get your friends to beat me up? Tell me I deserve the violence in my life? Undress my dead body? Tell me I'm crazy? Force me to put on a dress? Force me to shave? Tell me to brighten my voice? Tell me it's a shame I've destroyed my feminine smile? Would you dare try to drag me back to the patriarchal depths like crabs in a barrel?

At the end of the day, it's all about telling people how they should live their life. How they should look, which beauty standards they should care about, which roles they should identify with, who they should be beholden to... And if those people disagree, maybe they're just hysterical mentally ill or being manipulated. Lock 'em in a room with some yellow wallpaper to keep it cheery until they change their minds!

Do you see? The parallels? How, even if we accept that your fake science is actually real science, and claim womanhood based on our vaginas and tits and ability to sometimes bear children, you are still denying us agency by taking away the right to express our gender however we choose. If I'm a woman who looks like a man, or who acts like a man, why is that a problem for you? Why do these gender barriers matter to you? Don't you see that in taking control of gender, we defang a critical branch of the patriarchy?

Sexist ass cult mindset, -10/10.

[avarensons-craze]

I Won't Give Up - Jason Mraz (BG3 Lirien and Astarion Song Analysis)

It's so long, I'm so sorry.

[When I look into your eyes It's like watching the night sky Or a beautiful sunrise 

Well there's so much they hold ] Lirien, or Talanova, has always appreciated Astarion’s beauty in and out but as someone who’s form of entertainment is poetry and writing, he also adores the story painted behind Astarion’s eyes. The way he holds himself and his face tells a thousand things to someone like Lirien and sometimes the bard gets lost looking into the vampire’s eyes. He compares them to many things but his favorite thing to compare them to is the hue of a sunrise, the dawn of a new day where they’ll embark on many journeys together. And when he finds himself staring, he comes up with so many different stories, good and bad, about Astarion’s life. Though they die before they leave his lips for fear of getting something wrong. [And just like them old stars I see that you've come so far To be right where you are ]

He can tell that Astarion might as well have been through the Hells and back and silently, he recognizes that it took a lot for him to survive through all that. From experience, he knows how hard that can be and as more and more is revealed about Astarion, he couldn’t be prouder of the vampire for who he is.

[How old is your soul? ]

Despite all that’s happened, Lirien can tell that there’s still a bit of a mischievous soul in Astarion. Something that he hopes he can nurture out so that they may experience their stolen teen years together. Their souls are still young and spry and he wants to use that potential for all the things they want to enjoy. [Well, I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough]

Lirien knows that Astarion has insecurities and worries that he could leave at any moment. Of course, he would never do that so he aims to reassure that he’s here through thick and thin. He’ll be there when Astarion has a horrible nightmare about Cazador and he’ll be there when Astarion finally delivers the killing blow to Cazador. When Astarion inevitably lets his doubts get the better of him and tries to run before Lirien can hurt him, Lirien will be there. He will not give up on him or their relationship just because Astarion is hurting.

[ I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up ]

Lirien has a lot of love to offer and lots of ways to show. Between when he’s letting Astarion feed on him or he’s tending to a battle wound, he’s showing it through his gentleness and understanding. He’s giving his all to make sure Astarion feels loved, whether that be platonically or romantically. And every day, he hopes while looking to the Heavens that one day, the pale elf will be alright. [And when you're needing your space To do some navigating I'll be here patiently waiting To see what you find ] During the whole time where they’re trying to figure out the meaning to the scars and going through all these hoops, Lirien is there, listening and waiting. He gives Astarion space to think things over and when his companion eventually needs to talk, he’s there to help navigate this tricky situation. Through patience and guidance, he helps but only when asked. ['Cause even the stars they burn Some even fall to the earth We've got a lot to learn ]

In his own poetic way, Lirien often tells Astarion that no one is perfect and hardly anyone is just plain good or bad. Both of them have made bad decisions and both of them have made good ones too. Their situations put them in a place where being morally gray is the only thing they know and they’ve still got a lot to learn. Even he struggles with that thought sometimes but through his insistence in reassuring Astarion, he ends up learning the same lesson he’s teaching.

[God knows we're worth it No, I won't give up ]

A lot of people would look at him and Astarion and say they’re not worth the trouble. They’re too far gone and even the gentlest of hands would be bitten off if it got too close. That’s how they’ve been treated and that’s how they expect to be treated. But Lirien, who has experienced the kindness and warmth of children’s love, knows deep down, that’s not true. They’re worth it, him and Astarion, because they can be kind. So he’s not giving up on helping Asta realize this. [I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make]

Lirien doesn’t know for sure if anyone has walked out on Astarion but he does feel that Astarion expects him to walk out when things get tough or dangerous. And as someone who begged to the Gods night and day for something to save him, Lir won’t be a Hells forsaken hope. He’s here to make a difference in the world, in all his companions' lives and in Astarion’s, even if it means putting all he is on the line.

  [Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts We got yeah we got a lot at stake ]

Through Lirien, Astarion learns to find beauty in a world that can feel so cold and in Astarion, Lirien learns that even the scariest of things can be beautiful. Their differences help one another build upon a building torn down long ago. And sure, they both have a lot at stake but the tools they’ve built together will protect them from most odds and at the end of the day, they have each other’s arms to crawl into.

[And in the end you're still my friend at least we did intend For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in ]

Whether they stay together in a relationship or they break it off, Lirien will always value Astarion as a friend who stuck things out with him until the end. And with luck, they didn’t break nor did they crash and burn. Instead, they thrived on all they learned. They bent where the world sought to break.

[I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not And who I am ]

For all the help Lirien extended to Astarion on his journey, he also flowered and benefitted. He used to view himself very negatively, thought himself a monster not capable of finding a family to feel home with. What he learned instead was that he got handed one of the worst hands in the world and he played his cards as best he could. For that, he’s just a man. Not inherently good, not inherently bad. Just a guy who survived. He learned that he is Lirien the “Songbird”, savior of the world and a great friend to those who really need it. Not just Talanova, a name given to someone who was nothing but a piece of property to a lot of people. 

[I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up I'm still looking up 

Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up) God knows I'm tough (I am tough) enough (I am loved) We got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved) God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it) ]

When Lirien helps save the world and they’re all celebrating at the inn after all of them are accounted for, minus Karlach and Wyll who they’ll have a special party for later, his eyes are on Astarion. He didn’t give up on his love. Not when Astarion admitted to using him, not when the vampire was bent on power and not when he was begging Lirien to help him ascend. He instead gave him all the love he had to offer. He looked not up nor down on Astarion but instead head on and stuck it through. And now he gets to see Astarion smiling with a glass of wine in his hand, being celebrated among the people. And Gods, was it worth it. He knew he was tough enough, he knew Astarion was tough enough and he put all the faith he had left into not just his whole group but also the person he came to love. They are alive, they are loved and they won’t give up. Not ever.

And there’s a little irony in saying the Gods know they’re worth it, knowing that the end timeline was the Gods restoring a timeline previous in order to give a little faith to Lirien. They finally saw his worth. [I won't give up on us Even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up]

With their future undecided, Lirien lays next to Astarion in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Whatever lies in store for them, he still won’t give up. He knows it’s likely going to be a rough road ahead, whether they search for a cure for Astarion’s vampirism, a way to make him immortal or simply help all those Spawn in the Underdark. But if one thing is for certain, Astarion will have every ounce of his love and no matter the tough life they lead, he will always be looking up. They won’t give up.

[meowzfordayz]

Hello!!! Could I please request some Sanemi headcanons? You heard of enemies to lovers but hear me out... lovers to enemies to lovers. I just see it happening so easily with him. If you feel inspired enough I'd love to read your interpretation 💕 thank you!!

Ty for your request !! ☺️ My hcs basically always turn into semi preferences/one shots, BUT the style of hcs remains ?? Aka that's why I get carried awaaay... and also why this took ~weeks (12 days). 🤪 It's officially Thu here, so I'm sending you terrific, tender, triumphant vibes! 💖

Author’s Note: LITERALLY 2,000+ WORDS OF ~hcs. 😂 Fml.

lovers to enemies to lovers

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~2,400

CW: explicit language

~faqs~

I also see lovers to enemies to lovers happening easily w/ Sanemi, bc I just don’t think he knows how to love someone romantically (at first, ofc)

That being said, I feel that lovers to enemies to lovers isn’t exactly accurate either

More like he falls in love slowly, gradually, all at once — intensely, too intensely

And things don’t work out the first time around bc he’s too immature

First loves sink into your bones, imprint themselves through the veins of your soul

And almost everyone isn’t prepared, isn’t wise enough, experienced enough—isn’t ready—to deal w/ that sort of permanence

Sanemi is no exception

He has the infatuation, the flattery, the obsession down to a T

And you fall in just as hard bc heck, he’s your first love too

How do you reject someone who looks at you differently than everyone else?

Someone whose tone softens, eyes widen, jaw unclenches, ~just for you

Someone who promises to pluck the stars from the sky, collect morning dew from delicate grasses, dance w/ you regardless of who’s watching

Someone who, normally, is so brusque, stubborn, ignorant

But softly melts into the knowingness of your smile, allows you to rub salve onto his cuts and bruises, listens intently and greedily bc they don’t want to miss a thing when it comes to you

How do you reject someone like that?

Someone who murmurs, assuming you’re asleep, that he’s grateful he fell for you

That he knows it took ~a while, but he’s w/ you now, and I don’t want to think about a moment w/ you, I’m kind of hoping for forever (ty 5 Seconds of Summer for writing such a breathtaking line in Talk Fast)

Someone who admits, still assuming you’re asleep, that his scars flutter when your fingertips brush across them—someone who lets you touch his scars—whispering their stories to you as the sun slowly rises, his tears dripping intimately onto your bare skin

Someone who wakes you w/ gentle, feathery caresses, marveling at the flecks of sunlight in your drowsy eyes

Someone who laughs sheepishly when you ask Did you sleep, at all? bc he didn’t sleep, yet feels so light and airy and exhilarated

How do you reject Sanemi?

You reject him when you realize how quickly he is to anger

Not explicitly toward you, but indirectly tied to your interactions — to how others interact w/ you

Jealousy, of the unattractive brand

Insecurity w/o trust

I was just ordering tea, Sanemi you mumble — he counters sharply, a bitter Oh sure, that’s what you were doing, but that’s not what they were thinking

Did you enjoy yourself? he’s snarky when you return from a morning, an afternoon, a night, w/o him I did, Sanemi you sigh You said you didn’t feel like joining. You know you were welcome to come

You reject him when he behaves selfishly, unyielding, compromise a foreign word to him

Could we talk about this? you plead, prodding futilely at his coolness — whatever you’re arguing about isn’t serious, but the fact that he’s so unmoving, so arrogant, disbelieving in the importance of processing anything together There’s nothing to talk about, I’m fine

But you’re not fine

You reject him when you realize, as much as he insists he loves you, his every affection hides behind a thin, transparent wall

Whether or not he recognizes this, well, you doubt he does

He’s just too hot and cold

Too apologetic yet prideful

Reeling you in w/ puppy eyes and stolen kisses, hand picked wildflowers and hand cooked snacks

Only to push—shove—you w/ projections of frustration, self deprecation

It’s not you, it’s me

And eventually, you agree

It is him

And you deserve better

Better than someone who isn’t there yet

Someone wishes for a future w/ you, even as they exclude you from it

You’re blunt when you inform him that We’re done, Sanemi. I shouldn’t have to constantly play tug of war w/ my partner, and all you know how to do is fight

He gets it

Somewhat

Appreciates your honesty — your integrity to *not* lead him on

He also has a thousand and one questions

Fight? he wonders We rarely fought ??

He doesn’t understand that feigned nonchalance, avoidance, silence

Are all synonyms for this isn’t working

Good times being good don’t make up for bad times being bad

Love doesn’t fall perfectly into place ~just because

His confessions uttered in the secrecy, the safety, of your slumber

Aren’t the same as being vulnerable with you, for you

How can there be growth, depth when he does everything to you

How can there be growth, depth when he assumes that wanting is enough?

When he hasn’t learned that to want is one thing

And to progress, achieve, succeed is another

When he looks at love like a race — won and done

And hasn’t grasped that love is about who you come home to every night

That love is a changing, shifting, permanent being

As he watches you leave his estate, briskness in your step that wasn’t there before—that wasn’t there when you craved, desired, reciprocated his attention

He understands: he wasn’t ready to love you, even as he swears that’s all he could ever do

Your time spent apart is… daunting

Time spent knowing you should be teasing I love you’s from his lips

Time spent knowing he doesn’t understand what I love you really entails

Not yet

You’re glad he hadn’t chased you

Hadn’t begged for, hadn’t spewed, unattainable forgiveness

But you miss him

You miss his potential

His promises scratched soothingly into your scalp

Still there

He promised, didn’t he?

And, he misses you

Misses how you’d rub his palm whenever you could tell he was pissed off

Misses how you’d flick his forehead whenever he did something cute

Misses how you’d yawn in his face, morning breath galore, and scoot closer, mouth soft and inviting against his before he could even protest Morning breath

The longer he dwells on the strength of your character, the fluidity of your quiet

The more he misses you

Not just what he got from you, but the simple fact of you

He misses how you’d confront his bullshit he always ran away

How you’d wait for him to talk he never did, at least, not like that

Knows you would’ve stayed if he had given you a reason to

He falls in love again, embracing the shadow of your distance

Second loves are steeped in wisdom, guided by shallows of regret, tempered with the hope of getting to share oneself completely

He’s ~more ready to deal w/ permanence

Sober to how I love you could actually feel

Curious, patient, longing to tell you I’ve learned a thing or two

Mind you, he doesn’t become “better” overnight

Over many nights

—I imagine this reflection takes Sanemi months, if not over a yr

It takes immense discipline, a particular flavor of loss, to embark on such a conscious journey

But Sanemi promised

He doesn’t know how “better” should look, sound, taste, or smell

Knowing that could take a lifetime

Prob multiple lifetimes

—He’s not diving into anyone else to “learn”, yanno? (he’s def not one for rebounds — too emotionally consuming)

But a pleasant, anxious warmth settles in his throat when he realizes: at the very least, he thinks he knows how “better”—how love—should feel

Ofc, the tricky thing about parting ways

Is finding each other again

Tbf, you never fully escaped each other’s social circles

Bc again: you’re not enemies

Just, first loves that didn’t pan out

Like when you’re part of a friend group where everyone’s dated everyone lol

Except “everyone” is just you and Sanemi

But that doesn’t mean you’re all buddy buddy

Sanemi totally asks if you’re going to be at social events so he knows not to attend

He’s trying to be considerate, yanno? Of your boundaries and his heart

So it’s difficult for him when that pleasant, anxious warmth surfaces, bc

He’s unsure of how welcoming, accepting—happy unhappy—you might be

The usual fears of

Did I take too long?

Have I grown enough?

Have I grown at all?

What if they don’t want to see me?

What if they pretend they don’t see me?

How fucking awful would that be ??

What if they’ve moved on?

Could I restrain myself from punching a mf?

I should just ask Obanai ??

But he doesn’t ask Obanai

Instead, he just shows up to the next group outing, bc it’s still ~your (as in, both of you belong) group

Nerves curdle in his stomach when he arrives

This is the opposite of thoughtful, idiot

What a dick move

Turn around and gtfo before anyone notices you!

“Nemi?”

Ohmygosh he freezes

Tf was I worrying about? swallows sluggishly

Of-fucking-course they see me first can’t stop the bashful tinge dusting his cheeks

After all this time

You’re always the one

Meanwhile

You’re panicking at the slip of your tongue, at the ease and ache with which you address him

“I didn’t know you were coming?” you’re embarrassingly squeaky

“Me neither,” he chuckles, roughness revealing his tentativeness

“You look…” you pause, snorting internally at the cliche of your observation, “You look good.”

“I love you.”

—YOU CAN’T TELL ME HE’D BE SUAVE AFTER MONTHS/YR+ OF PINING AND REFLECTING AND YADA YADA LIKE HE’S FUCKING ON EDGE BURSTING W/ SOFT FEELINGS AND REGRETS AND YEARNING 🥲

“That’s… nice?”

Shocked, stunned, surprised is an understatement for what you’re feeling

And Sanemi visibly withers, ribs caving inward, eyes squeezing shut, unable to handle the spasms of loss wracking his heart

—You highkey just shattered his heart w/ your anticlimactic reaction lmao, but dw !! 😆

“You look good,” you repeat, and Sanemi swears you sound closer than you were when he shut his eyes

He looks good

Still a bit frayed, scattered, mended amateurly

Still a bit—a lot—awkward, unsteady, naive

But newfound sincerity lingers in the margin of his declaration

An obvious weight balancing his shoulders — a weight willingly gathered, nurtured, adored by him

Each stone a memory, a lesson, a regret, smoothed from its original form to a clearer, prouder shape

Abrasion dimmed to mild annoyance, bc Sanemi will ultimately be Sanemi, but he understands now that abrasion isn’t ~quirky

Jealousy faded to confidence, bc Sanemi understands now that you loved—love?—him too

Insecurity acknowledged, validated, permitted at a fair volume, bc Sanemi isn’t striving for ~idealized, but he understands now that he can—should—communicate his burdens

His thin, transparent wall of ~not ready carefully dismantled to let someone—you—in

“What’ve you been up to?”

Your apparent rejection stings, but he’s drunk on the tenderness in your voice—Maybe I’m not too late?—“Surviving.”

“Me too.”

Me too

Not I missed you

Not I still love you

Not Can we try again?

But if your surviving is Sanemi’s surviving, then

“I know, [y/n],” he rasps, “I know.”

He’s ready to love you (as ready as he’ll ever be) — knows that’s all he could ever do

And now he knows

You’re ready to love him too

—Altho y’all certainly beat around the bush for ~a couple of weeks, like, unbearable lovesick crush phase all over again 🥴🤗🥰

GUESS WHAT?!

That ^^ was my 2nd attempt at writing this request, and below is my 1st

(this also happened w/ touch deprived teehee)

Okayokay ngl I almost declined this request bc even tho I enjoy reading the lovers to enemies to lovers trope, I wasn’t sure how I’d personally write it 😆

BUT sleepy brain at work had an epiphany !!

Sooo here’s my take on Sanemi #lovers to enemies to lovers

He’s def the type to rush in headfirst the moment he realizes he’s in love

No experience

No comprehension of what it means to be in a relationship

Like yeah Sanemi is lowkey my fave soft boiled egg 🥚 (I’ve used that analogy in other fanfics before hehe)

But he also doesn’t magically become a sensitive darling overnight

That being said, he doesn’t exactly go from lover to enemy either

More like whipped lover boi to toxic manchild to better man 😌

Lovers

Has an existential crisis when he first realizes he stares at you waaay too often

Is it bc you irritate him? Like when someone chews w/ their mouth open and it’s so grossly fascinating that you can’t look away?

Or does it have to do w/ the butterflies nausea in his gut?

Will the feeling disappear if he slaps himself hard enough?

Does he actually enjoy the feeling? 😳 Uh oh! He totally does!

You catch on once you notice how the tips of his ears seem permanently pink around you?

“How did just your ears get sunburnt?” you try asking him

His eyes widen, tongue heavy in his mouth as he gulps

Doesn’t. Say. A word.

Okaaay ?? You cross off Sunburn from your list of theories

Meanwhile, Sanemi’s been having weekly hype sessions w/ Obanai to build up the courage to admit his ✨feelings✨ for you

Fortunately for Sanemi, he’s cute when he’s crushing!

You quickly become accustomed to the adoring burn of his gaze following you whenever you’re nearby — you almost feel lonely w/o it

By the time he finally mumbles, “You’re beautiful,” translation: I’m pretty positive I love you you’re reasonably attracted yourself

It’s difficult to resist his brutish charm, yanno? Especially since he significantly—unknowingly—tones down the “brutish” around you (i.e. bad boy/mean jock who’s only nice to you 🥺)

Does this sound like it doesn’t end well? 🙃

—Everyone knows that bad boys/mean jocks are romanticized af and not green flags for a healthy relationship

—Riiight? Everyone knows this? Irl? Fiction aside? You deserve the best, and bad boys/mean jocks are not that! 😤

ding ding ding

It does not end well

—Dw tho! This is lovers to enemies to lovers !! So just hang on !!

Your honeymoon phase is sickeningly sweet

Shinobu genuinely starts researching new medicines for Sanemi bc he’s disturbingly not Sanemi

He dotes on you Constantly blushes around you

Turns into your personal complimenting machine

Briefly mention feeling hungry, thirsty, sleepy?

—Update ~1 week later lmao: I SWEAR I’M GOING TO FINISH THIS

[fic-for-fic-sake]

The Next Step

A/N: 18+ NSFW Content ahead. It’s just me being horny on main again and I won’t apologize for that because this is real hot. Also the reader is demisexual. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader

It had been a month since you and Bucky had decided to take the next step in your physical relationship. You still weren’t ready to have sex yet, but you were getting bolder with what you were willing to do. Having a partner as kind and understanding as Bucky no doubt helped you feel as comfortable as you were feeling. You contemplated all of this as you lay in bed, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest pressing against your back. His breath fanned out across your neck as you became more and more awake. 

You squirmed a bit, caught in a bit of a predicament. You had awoken from a very interesting dream involving yourself and Bucky in a rather compromising position. If you concentrated hard enough you could still hear his heavy breathing and still feel his body pressing you into the mattress. Just because you hadn’t done that with Bucky yet didn’t mean it wasn’t on your mind. 

You didn’t want to wake up Bucky but the desire to go to the bathroom and finish yourself off was overwhelming you. You just started peeling the covers back when Bucky covered your arm with his and brought it back across your waist. 

“I don’t think so doll.” Bucky drawled, his husky morning voice sent a pang of desire straight to your core. You struggled to stifle a moan. 

“Bucky, please, I really need to take a shower.” You pleaded. 

“What’s the rush? You and I don’t have anywhere to be until later.” Came his muffled response as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. 

“No rush..I just, uh…” You struggled to form any semblance of an excuse as Bucky’s metal hand began to palm your breast over the thin material of your sleep shirt. 

“Does your eagerness have anything to do with a certain dream you had last night?” He asked. 

And though you were facing away from him, you could just hear the smirk in his voice. He sounded like the cat who caught the canary. More than that, he sounded like he wanted to make the canary sing. 

“How, uh how do you know about that?” You asked him, subtly arching your back as his nimble fingers rolled one of your nipples, causing a sigh to leave your lips. 

“You talk in your sleep sweetheart.” He said, while his teeth grazed along the column of your throat. “You still wanna go take a shower baby? Think the detachable head can do something I can’t?” 

Your breath hitched when the cool metal of his arm met your slightly heated skin, his hand snaked up under your shirt to give your breasts more attention. He pinched your nipple, waiting for your response. 

“No.” You breathed. 

“Then what do you want?” 

“You, I want you, I want your fingers.” You said quickly, before you lost your nerve. 

“That’s my good girl.” He breathed, pressing a kiss to your temple as his flesh hand toyed with, and then subsequently ripped, the thin material of your panties. You would be pissed if it weren’t so hot. “Spread your legs for me sweetheart.” He instructed. 

You did as you were told, letting Bucky wedge one of his powerful thighs between your own, opening you up to him. He brought his hand down to cup your sex and you immediately bucked your hips up to meet him. 

“Someone’s eager.” He teased, gently gliding his fingers along your slick folds, gathering the moisture that was already there. 

“It was a really good dream.” You moaned as you leaned back and rested your head against his shoulder. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it doll.” He insisted, his finger circling your clit once, twice, three times. You bucked your hips again and let out a whining sound, wanting him to do /more/. “Tell me about the dream pretty girl.” 

“Fuck, uh you were um, you were inside of me.” You sighed out, as he lazily stroked you. 

“Which part of me doll? Was it my fingers?” He teased, parting your folds expertly and shallowly dipping his finger inside of your dripping core. 

You shook your head ‘no’ in response, not able to form words. His fingers continued to tease you as his other hand continued its ministrations on your breasts. 

“Then...was it my tongue?” He asked, pushing his fingers in just a bit further, his tongue licking the side of your ear. 

Again, the answer from you was a ‘no’. 

“Then tell me what it was baby.” He urged, stilling his fingers partially inside of you. Letting you get used to the digits, the feel of them pressed against your walls. 

“It was your cock.” You said, breathlessly as you ground your hips down on top of his hand, trying to gain some friction. 

“So it was my cock inside of you?” He asked, slowly pushing his fingers further inside of you. “Stretching you, filling you out, pressed against these delightfully warm walls of yours.” He breathed against your neck, his fingers stroking you from the inside, making your toes curl and your nipples harden. “Did it feel like this baby?” 

“It-” You moaned, rocking against his hand, arching your back so he could palm your breasts more. “It felt better.” 

“Wanna know how I know it was only a dream?” Bucky asked, voice husky from his own arousal that you could feel pressing against your back. 

“How?” You asked, your breath coming in short pants now as you felt your body building higher and higher, that coil inside of you getting tighter and tighter. 

“Because when I fuck you for real, you’ll be much, much, louder.” He said as his fingers picked up their pace so much you gasped. You grasped the scruff of his hair with your hand, needing something to hold onto as the pressure built. You bared your neck for Bucky and he wasted no time in attacking it with love bites. 

You gasped and moaned as he pushed you higher and higher still until the dam broke and you came around his fingers, shaking as you did so. Bucky chuckled against your skin as he helped you ride out the aftershocks. 

When he was sure you were done, he gently removed his fingers from you and brought them up for you to suck on. You moaned around them as you tasted yourself on him. When he was satisfied he removed his fingers from your mouth and brought his down to give you a kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, no doubt tasting your arousal there. 

“Good morning baby.” He smiled against your mouth. 

“Good morning James.” You replied, a lazy smile stretching across your face.

[shingia]

hopefullyy this inspires u to write,,, can i request hc's of the boys getting jealous seeing their s/o work well with another person on a team/club? like good chemistry with a dance partner for example! (u can choose who u write but can it include iwa!!) <33

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS SEEING YOU WORK WELL WITH ANOTHER PERSON ✗

a/n : kdjfkdjdkdj i love this request omg ty ! i did half hc/half scenarios bc i thought the request fitted this format <3

-> iwaizumi, osamu, kuroo, suna, tsukishima

-> warnings : kuroo’s a bit suggestive (tbh i don’t know about the rest. it’s just... kinda hot? (tsukki’s only fluff tho<3))

-> reblogs are >>>>

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s jealousy was practically non existent until he actually saw you interact with your partner

• don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves your smile - but he especially loves to be the one who caused it

• he tends to get physically very protective of you, so expect his arm to stay wrapped around your shoulders most of the time. because to him it’s the easiest way to show the world (but especially your partner) that you’re his

• he also not-so-subtly offers you to wear his clothes on days when you have practice. and he secretly hopes that someone will ask you who they belong to...

« it’s cold outside. you should wear this ». iwa’s low and unannounced voice makes you turn around in surprise. leaned against the bathroom’s doorframe, he’s holding your favorite jacket in his hand - the one with his name written on the back, and you suspect that this might not be a coincidence... with a chuckle, you agree to put it on, noticing the proud spark in his eyes. « you know, i’m pretty sure everyone already knows i’m dating you » you tease him with a wink, all while also admiring the way his name takes up the whole width of your back. « oh yeah ? » he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans forward to rest his hands on the sink behind you. trapped between his outstretched arms, you watch his smirk grow just a little bit bigger as he lets out, very quietly, « well this is just a reminder... it better be the last ». his green eyes locked with yours could almost make you forget about his arm snaking around your waist at a painfully slow pace. almost.

— OSAMU

• look, he’s very happy for you. no doubt about it. but he’s so used to see people fawn over his brother that he can’t help but get a little protective from time to time

• since gifts are his #1 love language, he might buy you a workout-friendly piece of jewelry that you can wear during your practice

• he also insists on dropping you off and picking you up as often as his busy schedule allows it. especially since he learned that your partner was willing to give you a ride home...

• it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, obviously. he just doesn’t trust them yet

• and that’s why his kisses - and pda in general - are a bit more « intense » than usual

leg bouncing up and down, osamu is (very) anxiously for your conversation with your teammate to end. because after watching the entirety of your practice, he needs a little reminder that you two also have incredible chemistry together... a better one, even. so as soon as he sees you wave your teammate goodbye, he stands up straight, arms open just wide enough to welcome you against his chest. but instead of the chaste kiss you expected to get, you’re actually greeted by his left hand grabbing your sides while his right meets your lower back. disconcerted, you don’t even have time to say a word that his mouth crashes onto yours so eagerly that you have to lean back a few inches. « wh-what was that for ? » you pant as soon as his warm lips have left yours. « nothing. i love ya, that’s all » he smiles innocently, glad that you didn’t notice the cocky look he just gave your teammate who witnessed everything from afar... exactly as planned.

— KUROO

• passive agressive™️

• he would insist on properly meeting your partner but oh god they better brace themselves,,,

• because kuroo’s the kind of boyfriend that will shake their hand hard enough to make them yelp, all while having an angelic smile plastered on his face

• oh and you can forget being called by your name : he’s going to demonstrate the entire variety of nicknames he has for you. he might even come up with new ones just because he’s feeling « inspired »

• every single thing he says to your partner has to be a reminder that you two are dating. like « oh yeah they told me about this yesterday.. during our date ». just to make sure that there’s no misunderstanding.

« well... speak of the devil », kuroo hears you chuckle, your voice almost drowned out by his heavy breathing. he’s obviously planing on apologizing for being late... but not now. there’s something he wants to do first. still very aware of your partner’s presence right in front of you, he decides to securely yet eagerly wrap his arms around your waist before spinning you around proudly. « so... you guys were talking about me ? » he asks, glad to know that he’s the reason behind your giggles. « we were, actually » you answer a bit more seriously as he finally puts you down, still keeping both his hands on your waist. « well, i am your boyfriend after all... » he starts, interrupting himself to place a loud peck on your jawline. the only thing you can think is about is how awful this situation must be for your partner... kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered at all, as shown by the way one of his hands discreetly makes its way under the fabric of your t-shirt to rest directly on your skin. « hands off, kuroo » you order him with a slap on the back of his hand. an offended gasp leaves his lips, yet he complies reluctantly, thinking that your partner probably already knows everything that needs to be known about him.

— SUNA

• he doesn’t really mind it... as long as you’re willing to cuddle once you get back from practice. if you’re not, then he’s gonna start to worry

• because cuddling is probably his favorite ‘boyfriend privilege’ and he doesn’t want it to be taken away from him

• his schedule is pretty tight so he might not be able to attend any of your practices, but he asks you to record it as much as you possibly can so that he can watch the videos with you afterwards

• and seeing how smoothly you and your partner move together definitely doesn’t help with his worrying

it’s been thirty minutes now, and suna’s still not done watching the videos you took today. he loves to share these moments with you, snuggled up against each other the bed ; but most importantly, he has someone to keep his eye on... « babe- are you 100% sure that this was part of the choreography? » he suddenly speaks up, his eyes leaving the screen for the first time. you quirk a curious eyebrow, more surprised by his unusually suspicious tone rather than by the question itself. « oh, the hand on my waist ? yes, rin. it was ». at your words, his lips press into a thin line, he’s obviously far from being convinced. but you know your boyfriend well and you’re quick to reassure him : « you know, his hand might have been on my waist but you’re the one laying in my bed right now ». the frown on his face disappears almost immediately - much faster than you would’ve thought, replaced by a much more confident expression as his hands start to gently stroke your sides up and down. « mmh, i guess you’re right.... i mean, at the end of the day, only i get to have ‘all of this’ for myself » he smirks, playfully eyeing you up and down until he can’t resist the temptation of your slightly parted lips anymore.

— TSUKISHIMA

• tsukki’s not jealous, he’s just... well.. cautious. or at least that’s what he tells you

• but, deep down, he knows that simple cautiousness wouldn’t make spend his days and nights stressing about this new partner of yours...

• so, after a few weeks, his impassible facade starts to crumble a little bit. nothing too extreme, but just enough to let your partner know that you’re taken.

• and he knows he doesn’t need to do much : one of his signature scornful looks is more than enough. especially when he’s staring at your partner dead in the eyes while you’re greeting him with a hug and a kiss after your practice

« tsukishima kei, i’m waiting for an explanation ». with a sigh, your boyfriend drops his book on the table, turning his chair around to face you. « i don’t have one, i already told you. you told me to introduce myself, and i did. end of story ». you both know that tsukki did not just ‘introduce himself’ like any other human being would have done. and that’s precisely what you’re trying to make him admit - because your partner looked genuinely scared during practice today. « wha- no, i didn’t look down on him. it’s not my fault he’s so short... » he mumbles under his breath, trying his best to avoid any eye contact with you. but you know that only a slight tilt of his chin upwards is enough to make his eyes lock with yours - and that this is enough to have him admit anything. « you’re jealous, kei. and it’s painfully obvious by the way... » you smirk - but this smirk disappears in a split second as he slowly gets up from his chair, towering over you like he usually does. « ok, maybe i am. but i just wanted to make sure that he knew his place. and especially mine » he finally admits, his lips spreading in a scornful smirk that would be terrifying if his eyes weren’t filled with the infinite tenderness he has always felt for you.

✔️taglist : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @mochi-marie @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[angry-geese]

Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

[silkenstarlight]

blackbird's lullaby

Summary: After a rough day, Bucky can’t sleep. Reader decides to help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning/s: a bit of angst in regards to Bucky’s past, but the end is fluffy and sweet :)

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: something possessed me to write this instead of working on my finals, so here, enjoy the fruits of my academic negligence lol

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Bucky’s side of the bed was cold when you woke.

You sighed deeply, wrenched from the arms of a dream, rubbing the heavy, lulling tug of sleep from your eyes. You were half awake, toeing the line between the violent brightness of a dreamscape and the hazy, blurred shadows of your bedroom. The warmth of the blankets wrapped around your limbs and threatened to pull you under again, but before you could succumb to their soft, enticing tangle, a singular thought rose in your mind from the murky depths of sleep. At first, it was quiet, a hushed voice in your brain whispering to you that you were alone. But then, the concern gained traction, and it blared in your skull with a deep, unnerving clarity, a nagging insistence that made your eyes snap back open.

Where the hell was Bucky?

You sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:46 AM.

You frowned, turning to face Bucky’s empty pillow, and reached a hand out, lightly tracing the crisp, untouched folds. The sheets on his side of the bed were still flat and pristinely tucked, his pillow perfectly fluffed. He hadn’t bothered to try to sleep.

You knew why.

You peeled back the blankets and shivered, met instantly with the deep chill of night air as you unfolded yourself from your fleece and goose-down cocoon.

Bucky preferred to keep the apartment cold. You obliged, of course, bundling up in endless sweaters and blankets as he opened the windows wide and turned the rotary fan on full blast. You never questioned him about it, never asked if you could dial up the thermostat just a few degrees. You knew that keeping the apartment cold helped him to avoid the dreaded space of sleep, helped him to outrun the ever-looming specter of his nightmarish past. And, whenever he did come to bed, he gave you all of the blankets, covering his body with just the thin cotton layer of a bedsheet.

You knew that he rarely fell into a deep, nourishing slumber, so you tried to help boost his energy in other ways. Big, steaming pots of the strongest coffee you could brew, a fridge stocked with healthy snacks, and daily morning walks around the neighborhood together. He quietly thanked you for your efforts, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and leaving fresh flowers in the vase on the kitchen table every Sunday. But, even though he preferred to stay awake, whenever you rolled over in bed to snuggle into his side and found that his eyes were still wide open, a hard lump rose in your throat and a worried pit formed in your stomach.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and put on your slippers, grabbing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts and shrugging it on as you padded out to the kitchen. You just wanted to check on him and make sure that he was okay.

When he had returned from his mission earlier in the evening, he had seemed a little off to you. Usually, he was quiet, preferring to listen to you as ranted about your stressful workday or gushed about the newest book you were reading. He never wanted to talk much about himself, silently refusing to drag the horrors of his work into your home. It was where he felt at ease-- the plush pillows, the diffused, ambient lighting, the cloying scent of vanilla candles-- it was all so you. He didn’t want to taint the safety and warmth he felt when he was surrounded by your essence with the cold uncertainty and lingering shame of his work. Even though his missions nowadays were usually unrelated to his past as a clandestine Hydra operation, and even though the two jobs differed vastly in motive, he sometimes felt the creeping prick of deja vu traveling up his neck. Follow this person. Disable that vehicle. Shoot this opponent.

All of the lights in the apartment were off, so as you approached the kitchen, you used the bright white glow of your phone screen as a flashlight. You didn’t want to go directly to the living room and make it too obvious that you were checking on him. He would just shake you off if you did, insist that you go back to bed. So, you reached into the cupboard above the sink and grabbed a glass, turning on the faucet and filling it as you peered over the countertop, trying to pick out Bucky’s rigid frame amongst the inky shadows of the living room. You turned off the faucet and brought the glass to your lips, swallowing a couple of small sips.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” The sound of Bucky’s voice coming from the couch made you jump, the thick glass of your cup clacking against your teeth. You placed it in the sink and walked over to the couch.

Despite the low light, you could see that Bucky was still wearing the clothes he had on when he came home from his mission. Gray tee, leather jacket, dark jeans. He hadn’t even taken off his heavy black boots.

You stepped slowly towards him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting the urge to bury him in a hug and pepper him with kisses. Instead, you sat next to him, leaving a little space between your body and his. Now, you could see his clenched jaw, his jittery, tapping fingers, and the jumping vein in his neck that only pulsed when he was stressed. His gaze was fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall in front of him, as if he were lost in thought.

This wasn’t a normal sleepless night. Something was wrong.

“I… I guess that I should be asking you the same question,” you said softly, voice gravelly and low from sleep.

He didn’t respond, just took a sharp inhale that made it sound like he was staving off tears.

You couldn’t help it. It was like your body could sense his distress. Your hand jerked up to rest on his shoulder, a subconscious reaction to his apparent suffering. You let it stay there, though, stroking your thumb lightly along the cool leather of his jacket.

He stirred from his reverie and turned to look at you. It was so dark, the curtains shut tight, not a single ray of moonlight filtering into the room, but the blue of his eyes shone bright, glistening with the wet sparkle of unshed tears. Sadness swelled in your chest.

“You can tell me,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here to listen.”

His gaze dropped from your face, silently weighing your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you enough to open up. The truth was that he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And then, his demons would be given a voice, and the doors to this vanilla-scented, blanket-swathed haven would be wrenched open to the darkness that waited for him beyond the threshold.

But he could also see the way that his silence affected you. You frowned more on the mornings after he didn’t come to bed. You talked and talked and talked, trying to fill his ears with noise to distract him from the numbing static in his skull. And you were constantly touching him in some way, whether twining your lithe fingers around his thumb or draping your body on top of his in a warm, crushing hug. It was as if you didn’t want to let him out of your sight.

So, he let out a long exhale and reached up, taking your hand from its perch on his arm and twining his fingers tightly with yours. He idly stroked your palm with his thumb and decided to tell you the truth.

“I… I had a bit of a setback tonight.” He felt like he was wrenching the words from his throat. He couldn’t look at you, a deep sense of shame settling into his bones, but he stared at your hand held in his and felt the creeping self-doubt hesitate just a little.

“What do you mean?”

He dragged his eyes up to yours, blinking nervously. “I, uh--” he inhaled sharply and felt tears prick at his eyes. “Someone used my trigger words tonight. And it worked.”

Silence lay heavy between you as you digested what he said, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t pry your hand from his. You simply held his gaze.

“How is that possible?” He had gone through years of extensive mental treatment in Wakanda, the emotional scars that he suffered after years of lost identity and unwilling servitude seemingly healed. But, now, it seemed that one of those scars had re-opened.

“Ayo said that it was unlikely, but that it could happen. Relapse is a part of the process.” His voice was pained.

You nodded slightly, assenting to Ayo’s expertise. But Bucky’s next sentence made you fall apart at the seams.

“I thought I was different, after all these years. But I guess I haven’t changed. I’m still him.” He spat the last word, his face creasing into an expression of disgust.

You didn’t hesitate. “Come here.”

You gently separated your hand from his and reached up to his shoulders, guiding him towards you in a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms behind his neck and he pressed his chin into the notch between your shoulder and neck. As you began tracing your fingertips along his jacket collar, his chest heaved in desperate inhales, slow tears tracking down his cheeks developing into full, wracking sobs.

“You’re safe. I won’t let you go.” You pressed your mouth against his temple in a soft, soothing kiss.

“You were never him.” Although your voice was barely a whisper, it spoke volumes, your words ringing clear and true in the quiet stillness. Bucky shuddered, squeezing you close. You moved one of your hands up to cradle the back of his head.

You stayed like that for a long time, until you saw the blue light of dawn trickle through the gap beneath the curtains, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for Bucky to say what he needed. When his breath finally stilled into a regular rhythm, no longer halting and ragged, you pulled back and took his face in your hands, staring deeply into his eyes.

“I’m so tired.” His voice was flat and broken, but when you wiped a stray tear from his cheek with your pinkie, a small, grateful smile formed on his face.

You nodded. “Well, I know what will help. Come here.” You pulled back, shifting down the couch, guiding him with you with your hand wrapped around his arm. When he had enough space to lie down, you stopped, settling into your seat. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he could risk falling asleep in his current emotional state, but he sighed, knowing that he needed to rest. He laid back, resting his head on your lap, and looked up at you.

You carded your fingers through his short hair, brushing it back from his forehead. He melted into the gentle gesture, relaxing into the couch, into the warmth of your body.

And then, you began to sing.

You were quiet at first, as if trying out the thought of singing him a lullaby. Your voice was tentative, trying out the feeling of the different notes in your mouth.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

You thought that your voice was nothing special, your untrained, warbling syllables rushing from your lips in a breathy exhale. But Bucky loved it. The way you let your words flow together, followed by a long, lilting end note and a pause to inhale-- it was sweet and soft and so very you.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

He could feel it already, the lull of an encroaching dream. His first instinct was to fight it, to blink the sleep from his eyes, but he let his lids shut, blocking out every sense except for the sound of your voice.

“Blackbird fly, blackbird fly,

Into the light of a dark black night.”

And, as he welcomed the embrace of sleep, your voice followed him, a glowing amber halo of warmth that pushed the dark away and lit his path into the space of dreams.

“All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

He dreamt of blackbirds and forehead kisses, of vanilla candles and forgiveness.

He dreamt of you.

[moonbaby26]

Title: A Party and a Spy

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki is forced to return to Asgard to unwillingly participate in the festivities honoring Odin and Thor’s victories in Alfheim. He ends up drunk and in a piss poor mood that he then wants you to help relieve. Your secret meetings also finally attract an unwanted visitor. Super brief cameos here by Sif, the warriors three, and Thor, as well as Heimdall again.

Warnings: Semi smut possibly, but no real sex this chapter. Sorry to tease, will be some next chapter. Here is just mentions of arousal, grinding through clothing. Mention of masturbation. Also some animal abuse, but a magical animal who will be fine I guess. The princes are just jerks like that.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

You still felt warm, your head just poking out from under the blanket as you stretched a little. Your hand ran out across the mattress after a moment though, contacting nothing to your surprise as you then opened your eyes.

As you quickly sat up, the look on your face must have said far too much as you heard a chuckle from nearby.

“No, goddess, I haven’t left just yet. My, you are expressive though.”

As you turned your head towards the voice, you saw Loki now sitting in one of the two chairs at the small table opposite your side of the bed.

He was still dressed only in a pair of pants you also quickly noted, yourself still so unused to seeing this much of him as your eyes lingered on the lean muscle and pale skin.

“What?” He asked, not missing that stare either, though the sly look in his eyes told you he knew damned well what you were now distracted with. He just wanted you to say it.

“Asgardians really do wear too many clothes, if you are any proper example anyway.” You replied simply though. Why hide so much all the time?

He raised an eyebrow, but was smirking as he taunted a little further. “Oh I can assure you, there is no one in Asgard like me. And you’d prefer this not be reserved just for you then?”

You tried not to look caught off guard. Even if he were only teasing, the implication that he’d still be keeping this type of intimacy for you alone was something that made your stomach flutter slightly.

“Come here.” He said next though, snapping you back to attention, though you still hesitated. Was that a command or a request?

He only rolled his eyes after a moment though. “Oh, don’t waste time trying to be proud now. I do have to leave shortly, it will already be late morning in Asgard by now.” He extended a hand to you. “So come, sit with me.”

You eventually acquiesced, standing from the bed then, though intending just to walk to the other chair. Yet the very moment you were close enough, he only grabbed you by the arm, pulling you down to sit on his lap instead.

He was surprisingly fast and strong when he wished to be, his arms already around your waist as well before you could think to try and stand again.

“There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He spoke lowly against your ear as you shifted.

But to your surprise he didn’t touch you any further, even though one arm did stay around your waist to keep you steady as his other hand just went back to the table.

“I have a job for you.” He added, then moving his hand oddly as a piece of parchment paper and a writing quill appeared abruptly from thin air. “At least I think it may work. I’m sure the majority of these animals are illiterate. I’m hoping at least the clan chief has some shaman or someone of the sort that understands these runes. It’s the only written language I’ve ever seen in this land.”

But even as he started to write on the paper, your mind was still only fixating on what you’d just seen as you asked abruptly. “How did you do that?”

He seemed focused on whatever symbols he was now putting on the page, but he still answered. “How do I do what? They’re just runes.”

“No, how did you conjure the pen and paper?” Controlling the elements, moving objects by will, or casting illusions was one thing. But forming a very unnatural, man made object from essentially nothing was different than the typical kind of magic you were used to.

Loki paused a moment then, like trying to digest what you’d just said before he glanced back up to look you in the eyes.

“The woman can move the seas themselves and is astonished by a piece of paper?” He mocked incredulously.

Your eyebrows lowered. “Listen, I know good and well I’m no sorceress. That’s why I’m asking. How do you create something like that from nothing?”

He shook his head. “Gods, they really just give magic to anyone these days.”

A joke clearly, as everything you had you had been born with, though learning to control it had taken time. And to be honest, was still an ongoing learning process. But you still wanted an answer as you looked at him pointedly.

He sighed under your gaze. “I really don’t have the time for this. But I know you won’t let it go.” He had continued writing though even as he kept talking. “I didn’t make them, goddess. I brought them with me. You are at least correct in that nearly all instances of magic, nothing can be made without taking of something else. I’m sure when you make those little whirlpools of yours for instance, you’re drawing the latent energy from the water. The currents, the temperature differences, what have you. To truly make something from nothing...well, that would be chaos magic. Which, may or may not even exist depending which of the ancient mages’ tomes you most believe in.”

You could tell he did take pride in his studies and the principles behind them clearly. If he wasn’t already concerned about returning to Asgard, you could probably get a whole lecture on this subject right now. But you couldn’t help but point out again, as you just responded. “Yet you still haven’t really answered my question. If you brought them with you, where were they before?” You glanced down at his pants as if to reaffirm your doubt that anything other than himself had been hidden there as they were relatively tight.

Yet he still smirked at your continued insistence. “On the scale of the things I’m capable of, my dear, that’s just a parlor trick. And if you really care so much, I can teach you at some other time.”

At that, he paused writing again though, placing the quill down momentarily as he then moved his hand again for a long dagger to abruptly be held in his palm. “You see? There are far better uses to this trick.” He flipped the knife just as quickly though, letting the blade’s point stab into the table as the dagger then stood on end.

And as it did so he made sure to look to see your reaction, also asking you, “Do you really just depend on your servants to follow you around at all hours with any weapons you may need?”

Yet you just looked from the dagger, then back to him. Surprised surely, but not actually frightened. “And do you have so many enemies as to always need that at the ready?”

“One never really knows do they?” He answered smoothly, just grasping the dagger’s handle again before it disappeared once more.

It didn’t seem like a threat really. But you felt he still wanted you to know a bit more of what he was capable of. You quieted afterward as he went back to writing for a few more moments.

When he was done, you could tell he glanced over the letter briefly, as if proofreading before he rolled the paper tightly and folded it.

He spoke rather business like then, an odd thing honestly as you still sat so intimately on his lap. “If it wasn’t already obvious, I’d like you to carry this to the village leader while I return to Asgard. I don’t have the time to deal with the mortals right now, and besides, they’re your pets.”

“Excuse me? Have you forgotten whose idea this whole ‘protector’ role was to begin with?”

“Oh, I was willing to let the lot of them be wiped out if you’d chosen not to save them. I’d only need to spare whichever the nicest home was from burning as the marauders moved through, and we still would have ended up with a place to meet regardless.”

The sad thing was, you were actually sure he really meant that too. But he just continued.

“Yet you pitied them, and now here we are. And as the beasts held up their end of the bargain, I agree it’s fair at least to give them some recognition for their work. A pat on the head and a ‘good dog’ essentially, that’s what this letter says. So you see, I’m not wholly ungrateful.”

“A thank you letter?” You asked dryly. Relatively sure it likely didn’t read completely as such.

“Well, essentially. But with a reminder on the rules as well.”

“Rules?”

“Our privacy must be respected. I’ll put a green flame at the end of the trail nearer the village when we’re present. During the night, this place is also solely ours. If during the day there’s no flame, then they can come up and clean and maintenance this tiny wood hutch like good help should.”

“Your staff at your palace must just adore you.” You mused sarcastically. “The mortals are not our slaves, Loki.”

“It’s really an odd thing how you fancy them.” He retorted, though with an air of someone just humoring another person they already thought irreparably deluded. “But I suppose you have nothing else fulfilling to pass the time when I’m in Asgard. Some people like to paint, others like to craft things...you, you have your pets.”

Arrogant god you thought. As if suddenly you had no other purpose outside of him? Surely he saw that insulted look in your eyes as well, because you could see the entertained mirth in his own before he pulled you closer to kiss you suddenly.

And this one was rough again, briefly reminding you of that night in the cave as you felt his hands move down to your hips. His tongue was already in your mouth before you could even consider pulling away.

From last night when he’d only held you, to now seeming so hungry again, the sides of him could change so quickly you were learning.

His hands didn’t move beneath your dress though, even though you thought his fingers may be grabbing you hard enough to bruise as he twisted you to be fully facing him. Straddling him actually with each of your legs now on either side of him as he rested against the back of the chair.

He kept kissing you, and it wasn’t long before you felt that distinct hardness against you even through his pants. As always though, you wore nothing beneath your dress, a matter of practicality really for as often as you were in the water. Who would want any undergarments constantly rubbing and chaffing where you were most sensitive? You liked sheer and loose material in the dresses you wore, so that it moved easily as you swam and dried quickly when you were on land.

But he knew all this by now of course, as he just ground his hips then, that rough seam of his pants then moving between your legs as he drug it back and forth.

He was intentionally trying to work you up. You sensed the trap, but still found your own hands moving across his bare chest soon enough.

Your newfound lack of willpower was really astounding. Finally though, you pulled your head back to break the kiss and warn him. “If you’re just doing this with no intention to actually follow through...”

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have taken it last night.” He retorted though. “I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Why can’t I want both?” You answered, meaning it as well. It wasn’t just sex, nor was it just being in his company. Neither by itself was enough anymore. Each had its own place.

He looked frustrated himself though as you felt him thrust against you reflexively, that bulge in his pants wasted even as it scraped against where you were now becoming wet. “I’m telling you, Odin is back at the palace now. I have to be calculated in the times I come and go. There is some damned ceremony today, likely starting any moment by now for their victories in Alfheim. If I’m not there, they’re going to come looking for me.”

As much as you knew he liked to bend the truth. It wouldn’t make sense for him to deny himself this right now unless it was actually for good reason.

“Well you’re the one who pulled me into your lap and kissed me.” You relented, though your own body now fully flustered and urging you to return to him even as you stood up and stepped away.

“Well you shouldn’t have slept so late.” He grumbled back. Pulling at his pants in some discomfort as he stood as well.

But you watched as his armor manifested then, horned helmet and all as his magic washed across him. What you guessed would now be his attire for the ceremony he’d spoken of. You assumed that clothing and armor had been in whatever void the pen, paper, and dagger had been.

At least with his illusions he could also conceal his arousal if it hadn’t faded on its own by the time he reached the palace though, you thought with some amusement.

Yet, even as he walked for the door, he taunted to you as if sensing your enjoyment of his current predicament. “You’re welcome to get back in the bed you know. Think of me while you self soothe, goddess.”

So crude. But you just fired back before he could close the door. “And is that what you do at night in Asgard? Think of yourself as well to finish things off?” You were trying to mock his evident self importance of course.

Yet he didn’t even miss a beat at the intended insult. “Why be myself when I can just be you? Then I never have to forget how you feel.”

And just to prove that he could, you stared in disbelief as a perfect likeness of yourself then smiled back at you lewdly, thin dress and all before shutting the door unceremoniously.

Gods. That was just unnatural. And you had to sit down at that, arousal now paused at least as your body’s resulting confusion was almost palpable.

———————————

Asgard, not long after

Loki was back to his normal appearance, hurriedly stepping into the small grouping of warriors he’d recognized at once in the rest of the crowd at the palace ceremonial hall.

Sif’s head turned in immediate surprise and annoyance as those golden horns entered her peripheral vision. The irritation was evident even as she tried to keep her voice low with so many others still around them. “And just where have you been!? Thor was looking for you everywhere!”

“I was in the library, did he think to look in the library!?” Loki spat back immediately, knowing that even if his brother had checked there, Thor knew the layout of it so poorly, he could always have claimed to have been in another section.

“Yet why are you breathing so hard, chap? Were you actually running?” Fandral asked as well, also looking Loki over.

“And why pray tell would I have been running?” Loki shot a glare to him next. Could they not mind their own damned business for once?

“Because you were late?” Volstagg offered in that simplistic, yet matter of fact way that was always beyond annoying even on the best day.

“Well I’m here now.” Loki huffed, though not missing the way Hogun was also staring at him critically. “And do you have something to add?” Loki grumbled at him.

But only Sif answered. “Well if you hadn’t been lost in the library,” Her tone made clear how little she believed that excuse, “You’d know that Thor chose you to give the congratulatory speech before-”

“The what?” Loki stared at her, that odd mix of horror and disgust then abruptly clear on his face.

——————————

“So what more can I say of Asgard’s favorite son?” Loki’s public speaking voice boomed richly through the great hall, the throng of happy faces sickening as he smiled right back at them. What fresh Hel was this really?

“Alfheim counts her graces I am sure to have such noble saviors defend her-” By the gods he didn’t even know what Odin and Thor had done there the entire time. He assumed there’d been skull bashing and the normal heroics. But if they’d been working out peace treaties instead the last few weeks, who knew. He’d been looking for hidden portals to Midgard still on the days they’d held the main debriefings.

“And with peace secured in the realms once more, please join me in giving thanks to the noble Allfather and the mighty Thor!” Loki wasn’t normally one for alcohol. Not in comparison to most Asgardians anyway. He thought it dulled the mind too much. But by all the mages in all the realms...he so badly needed it now, as he took a large swig of the strongest Asgard had, before throwing the glass down to shatter it as was custom. “And let the feasts commence!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. And on any other day, that would have been something he obviously would have wanted. But Loki knew that not one voice was for him as he suddenly felt a large hand and arm go around his shoulders, shaking him roughly before his brother’s voice joined the yells, yet right in his ear.

“HUZZAH!” Thor cried, one arm still around Loki as his other lifted Mjolnir triumphantly.

—————————

And it was so many hours later before Loki had finally escaped. Time and time again as he’d tried to excuse himself from the endless barrage of drinks and food, it was as if his brother had somehow sensed it.

Then there would be Thor again, telling him any one of those same stories over and over as he’d somehow corralled Loki back into the feast room. If he’d had to hear one more time how with one hand forced behind his back, and Mjolnir still in mid air, that Thor had kicked one of the enemies’ bombs right back into their own garrison, taking out an entire enemy troop as more of their stored artillery then exploded...Loki may have finally vomited.

As it was now, he wasn’t exactly walking a straight line either though. Just carrying his own helmet in one hand, his head already throbbing as he made his way slowly through the corridors. His other arm reaching out occasionally, grazing the walls for balance.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank so much. Well, more like been forced to drink so much, just to try and maintain his sanity in what was essentially just another gathering of his brother’s sycophants.

Honestly did Thor even see it? Did he really think all those hanger-ons were truly his friends? Perhaps there was some argument for Sif and the warriors three. As thick headed as they all were, they were about cut from the same cloth. And that was not a compliment.

But all the others? It’d be almost pitiable really if it weren’t so damned annoying. Yet maybe it was the alcohol there as well, making Loki linger on so many of these feelings again.

By the time he reached the entrance to his quarters, he was frowning as he pushed the heavy doors open. He still made sure that they shut fully behind him though as he waved his hand to lock them doubly with a spell.

It was not without precedent that in some true late night madness, either Thor, or Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg may still force entry to try and get him to accompany them on some additional drunken adventure while they were still riding so high on their accomplishments.

“Idiots,” Loki grumbled to no one though. Still stuck in that sour mood as he moved across the dark room, losing clothes as he did so before finally ending up in his elaborate bed. The silken sheets were then the only thing against his skin as he laid there in silence, though the room still feeling like it was moving slightly in his lingering vertigo.

But he just wanted to sleep. That and to will this headache and the thoughts that worsened it away.

But instead he only laid there. His drunken thoughts churning louder and louder as the minutes passed, alone in this extravagant, luxurious, and also very empty bed.

Scattered across the palace now, he could only imagine all the couplings likely occurring. Not necessarily in the full sense of the word. But he knew how these types of festivities normally ended.

Thor was likely in an archway somewhere with Sif, pawing at each other with all the finesse of a pair of schoolchildren. Fandral and Hogun would still be at a table, Fandral now showing off his sword to a couple maidens simultaneously with only thinly veiled euphemisms of how it compared to the hidden equivalent. And Volstagg would have his actual wife and children there, somehow still not bored of them yet as they all laughed together.

And that’s what it really was, laughable.

Loki rolled onto his side, glaring towards the balcony and the stars dotting the black sky beyond it. No, he didn’t need any of that farce of companionship. Not just for the sake of it anyway like all the others. He took what he wanted, when he wanted surely. Pleasure was one thing after all, but it didn’t control him.

You didn’t control him actually. Because no one controlled the god of mischief.

But the longer he lay there in silence, the more he could then imagine your fingers soon running through his hair, or the warmth of your lap to lay his aching head in. He’d had bad days before, many times retreating to this very room alone. But he didn’t have to be alone tonight. He didn’t have to be alone at all anymore did he?

“Goddamnit.” He finally hissed. It was foolhardy, dangerous even after just returning from Midgard already once today. But he wasn’t going to sleep tonight otherwise. Not until he had what he really wanted.

——————————

Loki certainly wasn’t going to be walking all the way to the bifrost gate. Not at this hour, and not in this condition. So he’d taken a form that at least no one would have second guessed if they’d just happened to look up as he’d passed quickly overhead.

One of Father’s ravens, or the rats with wings as he preferred to call them. And as he’d landed near Heimdall, then regaining his normal form, the older god just looked down at him, unimpressed.

“She’s returned to the ocean. She already sleeps.” Heimdall spoke unprompted.

Yet Loki’s eyebrows rose mockingly, even if his words took a little more effort right now. “Oh? Making a habit of watching her…even without me then? That’s a bit perverse.”

But the gatekeeper’s expression hardly changed at the insult, still so difficult to goad. “I saw you coming, and your questions to her whereabouts are becoming predictable.”

It was true. Loki had already come here several nights, yes. Mostly to check whether the mortals had finished that structure or not. And it’d finally been a pleasant reward just the other night when Heimdall had confirmed it already done and you there waiting.

“I don’t care where she is.” Loki retorted though. “I’m going to Midgard. Open the gate.”

“You are inebriated.” Heimdall warned.

“And you have a severely itritating penchant for stating the obvious…open the gate.” He commanded more forcefully.

“Anywhere in Midgard particular?” Heimdall answered.

Loki paused though, hearing that slightest change in the guardian’s normal stoic tone with those last words. “Are you…attempting to make a joke?”

“I did not wish to assume or state the obvious again as you said. And you also say you do not care where she is. So do you not care where you should land tonight then?”

He was! He was mocking him. Loki growled, pointing his finger for emphasis. “Now listen here…it has been a god awful, long day. Quit trying to dissuade me. Send me to the village, gatekeeper!”

“Any village?”

Gods. “My village, her village, whatever you want to call it. But do it or I’ll use the damned sword myself!”

With one last cheerless look down at Loki, Heimdall turned the sword then, opening the gate even as he warned a final time. “Do not fall from the bifrost, Prince. The universe is vast and does not suffer the careless well. Do remember as well that all things done have consequences in the end.”

But Loki had no time to search for deeper meaning in the words, just ruffling more as he walked towards the light. “Is that a threat?”

“Only a truth and a caution.” Heimdall again answered, just before the other disappeared back across the bridge.

———————————

And as the light left him again, Loki was once more in that dark forest. Yet, the ground far lighter colored than normal as to a little of his surprise, his boots now found fresh snow. Winter had finally arrived to this part of Midgard apparently.

He cursed, realizing it would have been far smarter to have told Heimdall to deposit him directly onto the beach this time as he’d now had to navigate back down the hillside and to the trail that led between the cliff face.

It had started snowing again as well as he walked, the large flakes sticking in his black hair by the time he reached the ocean’s edge. He should have told you just to stay at the cabin this morning. But he didn’t expect to be standing here again so soon either.

Loki didn’t care about the water at this point though, the waves rushing up around his feet and over the top of his boots as he trudged forward to call out. “Hear me, sea beasts! Hear me and bring your mistress to me!”

And it didn’t take long of course before he saw two feminine looking torsos rise just where the waves were breaking in the distance. Not quite human, but expressive enough that he could see the skepticism in their body language.

“She’s asleep!” One called back over the waves.

“Then go and wake her!” He only hissed back as if scolding an insubordinate child. Why did everyone feel the need to test him tonight?

But the two nymphs just looked at one another. The other then speaking. “What is so important? Are you claiming injury again?”

He scoffed at the jab, voice easily sliding into its darker range then, even in his continued drunken state. He did not have time for this. “Do not forget your place, water sprite.”

And as he made a move as if to step further into the water, he was pleased to see them both shrink back at that. When they disappeared not long after, he knew all he now had to do was wait.

—————————

You didn’t fully know what to expect. Why was he back so soon? Not that you should complain, but he’d made such a point about having to return to Asgard this morning, and he’d never come back so quickly before. Even though it was now dead of night.

The nymphs also said he’d been acting strangely, even a bit ruder than normal. They insisted you bring your spear, and so you had as you broke the surface only to find him sitting at the water’s edge. Though not even far enough onto the beach to stay dry as the water now ran around him and then pulled back with each successive wave. His pants and cloak were clearly soaked, snow also dotting all over him to your surprise.

“Loki?” You asked, concerned but cautious. Normally the rare sight of snow would have distracted you in its own right had you not been so focused on him. The north was still unique to you for all its differences.

“The cold doesn’t bother me either.” He said abruptly, seeing that worry in your eyes. But he didn’t stand out of the water. “You really should reprimand your servants…”

“It’s not quite that kind of a relationship.” You replied, though not defensively as you still tried to realize what was wrong with him. “Are you alright?”

“No.” He said simply.

If it was just another trick, it was a good one. But you felt you had no real choice but to behave as if he was sincere. You only laid your spear down in the water as you then moved to sit down beside him.

He looked over at you as you did, and you could see how tired he looked even in the darkness. So close to him then, that was finally when you smelled the scent of alcohol, impressively strong even over the salt smell of the ocean.

He was drunk.

“Loki…” You said again, unsure at all what would have driven him to this kind of excess. “Do you want me to help you to the cabin?”

He leaned closer though, as if to either kiss you or lay his head against yours. He did nuzzle your face slightly though as he whispered in your ear. “I want him to get closer first.” Before you could react though, he’d then grabbed your chin to keep you from looking away from him. “He can’t hear us over the noise of the sea…but don’t look away.”

And he did kiss you then, that heady taste of the alcohol almost as distracting as the nonsensical words. His hand was moving up your thigh as well as his other moved around to your back. It all seemed like only the beginnings of foreplay before just as suddenly, he then pushed you down beneath him. His hand that had been on your thigh pulled back simultaneously to throw a dagger violently out into the darkness.

You heard a distinct sound of a hit, a creature screech, and then chaotic flapping in the sand and snow somewhere near the cliff’s base.

Loki was now laying on top of you, your back still pressed into the wet sand as the water rushed back up around you both. He glanced back down at you then, ignoring the confusion in your eyes as he kissed you roughly several times more before finally pulling back again. “We’ll have to get back to that tomorrow…” He all but purred, mood shifting suddenly to satisfaction as he stood once more and offered you his hand.

Utterly baffled, you still took it, letting him help you up before he let go of you to walk off towards the distressed sounds you still heard near the cliff. You only hung back long enough to grab your spear before hurrying to follow him.

You didn’t know what kind of beast to expect from all the noise, and only found yourself more surprised as a pitiable looking black bird finally came into view. It flapped even harder upon seeing Loki, but with one wing clearly mangled and blood spattering the snow and sand around it.

“Oh, you over dramatic twat.” Loki fussed, snatching the hapless creature up with little fanfare as his other hand reclaimed his now bloody dagger, disappearing it again with his magic. “And which one are you?” He asked, holding it roughly near his face as it now continually tried to bite him in defiance.

You didn’t know what he was looking for, and you were about to say something about how harshly he was holding the poor animal before Loki smirked in recognition.

“Well…Muninn, you little vermin. You saw me leave the palace didn’t you? Did you really think I was your other half? Couldn’t leave well enough alone could you?”

What? So this was one of Odin’s ravens? But, Loki had just stabbed it! Was this not treason? Treason that you were now a party to? You had so many questions as your inner panic began to grow.

But Loki only kept smiling, talking with condescension to the injured bird. “Yet, for you to be here so quickly, then you’ve found my door for me. There’s a rift between Asgard and Midgard somewhere nearby…and for that you get to keep your other wing tonight, you little spy.”

—————————

As you passed back up the trail to the cabin together, you saw Loki had indeed kept his word about signaling to the mortals when you were here. A green flame floated, ethereal in midair at the edge of the tree-line.

It had a haunting look to it, but you said nothing, still so focused on Loki’s rough handling of the injured raven. And by the time you’d entered the woods, you could no longer contain yourself.

“Please don’t hold him by the chest like that. It makes it too hard for them to breathe. You’re going to suffocate him!”

At your outburst, Loki seemed to have a genuine moment of surprise, looking over at you before his normal superior expression returned. “Just because you can become a bird….doesn’t mean you should give a damn about this one. Don’t waste your time on kindness. Despite your bleeding heart, his loyalty lies only with the Allfather. He’ll snitch you out regardless.”

“But, he has lost a lot of blood. We can’t let him die, Loki…” You still kept on, worried the alcohol had truly made him lose all sense of judgement.

Again he just gave you the oddest look before outright laughing though. He shook the bird a little, making it squawk again, before continuing. “This rat and his brother are imbued with Odin’s magic. They cannot perish so easily as long as Odin still lives.”

Yet, that was still not comforting to you in the slightest. In what possible way could torturing a favored pet of the Allfather end positively for the two of you?

But Loki didn’t miss the way you still stared with disapproval, just rolling his eyes as you finally made it to the cabin. “Do you know how long we’ve dealt with these little pests? When Thor got his first slingshot as a boy, what do you think he practiced it on? When I learned my first spells, what did I test them on? There is nothing new to this…”

“That’s awful.” You grumbled, though watching as Loki did this odd movement with his shoulders, his magic shifting over him so that he was suddenly dry again.

As he walked inside, you had to shake the snow off yourself the old fashioned way. Your dress and hair still damp from that and the ocean combined as you followed him inside, leaning your spear against the wall before closing the door. “So you could do that the whole time,” You commented as to his drying trick, though not really surprised by anything else right now.

He smirked a little, knowing what you were thinking. With a wave of his hand a couple of the candles also lit. “Oh, I didn’t do it that night in the cave. You were supposed to take pity and ask me to take off some of my wet clothes…of course they ended up off anyway didn’t they?”

You crossed your arms, just frowning as he unceremoniously opened the chest on the floor next, tossing the injured Muninn into it before slamming it back closed.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Loki threatened in response to the resulting angry squawk, giving the chest a light kick before the noise inside silenced.

When he turned to look at you again, he only offered a dark smile. Though still looking tired as he started to remove his clothes.

You tried to keep your disapproving look strong even as you realized he was using no magic at all, removing his vestments piece by piece as if to taunt you into further watching.

But looking away would have just goaded him too wouldn’t it? Letting him know the sight of his body still did things to you. You couldn’t win either way as all of his clothes finally laid piled on the floor, no neatness this time as he went lay nude in the bed.

You stood there a further moment, really not knowing what to do. He didn’t deserve to be rewarded right now in your mind. But were you just supposed to walk right back out the door? You didn’t have the willpower for that either, not anymore.

He watched you lazily too, waiting. His voice was quieter now though as he did speak again. “If I’d wanted to sleep alone…I would have just stayed in Asgard.”

Your shoulders lowered a little at the softer words, but you didn’t know how much you really believed him. You finally did approach the bed however, removing your wet dress, and not missing the way his eyes moved across your body before you climbed in under the blanket beside him.

But you could also tell he was in no condition for love making, even as you felt his hand encircle one of your wrists, himself then pulling your hand up so your fingers fell into his hair.

He gave you an imploring look, making his intention clear even if unexpected. It was so strange, but you complied, starting to rub your fingers through his hair and along his scalp gently.

The way he clearly relaxed into the touch reminded you so much of a placated animal truly. And he even closed his eyes as you just continued stroking, letting the black hair work repeatedly between your fingers.

To drunkenly cross the vast breadth of space just for this minor affection, also risking exposure by his Father’s informants, was it telling you that he really was so reckless after all? Or…was this becoming a real need for him?

Were you becoming a need in his life?

You felt him line up his body with yours, flesh to flesh as he got further comfortable.

“Thank you.” You heard him say at last. Surprising you enough that you could find nothing to say in return.

You just kept on with your soft touches though, comforting the troublesome prince all the way until he finally fell asleep in your arms.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[lyallblacklupin]

@ekaterina-popova​ : hey! I found out that lupi means wolves and I instantly thought about Italian Remus. Can you write: Sirius flirts with Remus in French and then Remus answers him in Italian but sirius didn't know that he knows Italian so he melts

Sorry for writing it quite late but here you go! <3 Hope you like it!

Remus enters into their apartment—His and Sirius’ apartment.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out, and throws his key into a bowl he calls ‘something fancy china Lily bought.’

“You know it’s getting really cliché now,” Sirius appears in the corridor and Remus feels like he can’t breathe anymore because his boyfriend is wearing a red gypsy skirt with yellow frills on it, “so can you start saying something else? Like ‘Je suis chez moi, mon chérie.’ Or ‘votre bébé est à la maison.’ Huh?”

But Remus is spluttering, growing red in the face. He can tell that Sirius is speaking French on purpose, and it is a lot to handle. The most terrible has happened because Sirius has figured out why his boyfriend is at loss of words.

“Oh, you’re blushing so hard! Merlin you are in love with this skirt, aren’t you? My Remus Lupin has skirt kinks!”

“Shut up! It’s just because you are half naked, and you know how I get when I see you shirtless.” To display his nonchalance, he walks past his boyfriend and loosens the tie of his collar.

“Yeah, I remember fifth year when I came close to you while being shirtless, and you practically cried in front of me because your ears felt hot!” He doubles with laughter, his damp hair sprayed the faint droplets of water on Remus, and it is getting really hard for him to sit straight on the couch. The real question is: Why is he keeping himself from kissing his boyfriend senseless? Because Full moon is in two days, and he has to restrain himself from wrecking him. He can’t lose control even after how much Sirius has insisted that he can deal with it but Remus highly doubts it.

“Sirius, I’m trying to be sane here. But clearly, you are not helping.” Remus clenches his teeth under his mouth, and keeps his hands under his pockets.

“So you do like this skirt, don’t you?” He is grinning his Sirius Black grin with his dripping wet hair sticking to the space where his shoulders meets his neck. He is dazzling, the sexiest human ever to exist in Remus’ life. Remus stares in awe as his eyes travels from his sharp jawline to the muscles stretching from the base of his collarbone as he tilts his head a little backwards. Remus can’t tell if he is doing this also on purpose because his brain is fuzzy. He feels like he is drunk, and he is. He is drunk on Sirius Black. Then his eyes descends to his tattooed chest, and before they descend any lower than his naval area. He jerks himself out from the haze.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, “Sirius, just don’t talk. I-I can’t deal with you right now. You are too much today.”

“You know if someone else would have been in my place, they’d be offended but I swear to Merlin and Morgana, I’m so on fire right now, Moony.”

“Padfoot!” He glares at him but receives a bark of his favorite laughter, and he tries not to slip from his grip, “Okay, where did you get the skirt, anyway?”

“Lily! She said it was quite over-fitted for her.”

“Sirius, it’s a loose skirt with frills on it.” But Sirius makes a noise of disapproval from the back of his throat.

“Yes! And Lily is very pregnant, and please It’s called a gypsy skirt, lover boy.” Sirius comes close, and wiggles his hips in most obscene way that Remus hisses and then bits the inside of his cheek. He can tell that he has started to look at Sirius like he is the most delicious meal walking around him. He catches the whiff of the cologne he bought him for his seventeen birthday. And Remus thinks he is going to die with the heat between them.

“And!” Sirius is now barely at a distance from him. Those mere inches were close enough for Remus to feel the puffs of Sirius’ breaths on his bottom lip as he continues, “Would you still not want me if I come in a pencil skirt in front you?” Those arousing whispers set Remus’ body on fire because damn it! He isn’t a fashion designer but he knows fucking pencil skirts.

“Sirius! Please…” He cries, slipping away from the dangerous territory of Sirius’ charm which happens to be inversely proportional to Remus’ self-control. “It’s two days in full! And I’m driving crazy here! You are driving me crazy here because all I want is to eat you like you are my dinner for tonight.”

“Moony, by all means, I’d be lovely for your cannibalistic appetite.” Sirius makes a show of opening his arms to him, “Have me, darling. I’m all yours.”

“Urgh! I can’t! Just go—I can’t lose control—I just can’t!”

“But Moony—“

“No means no. Vai nella tua stanza! I want to fucking breathe.” He doesn’t realize what he has said even after it has been apparent for solid fifteen seconds that Sirius hasn’t left the living room as he is told. Remus looks up from the book he has suddenly started reading. Of course, he is pretending to read. How can he read when he feels like the argument isn’t finished yet. Remus looks up and freezes because Sirius is wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Did-did-you just…Did you just speak…?” Remus holds back a laugh because the surging confidence and sexiness that usually radiates from the Great Sirius Black seems to have dissipated into thin air. And then Remus is able to put a finger on it.  

“Italian?” He cocks an eyebrow, feeling dominant all of a sudden as he stands up to walk towards Sirius, “Stai arrossendo troppo!”

“I thought you speak Welsh!” Sirius splutters, his cheeks glowing red as if someone he has grown microscopic extra bunch of red roses beneath his snowy skin. Remus was at a brink of lunging at his boyfriend to take him in a fierce kiss. He was almost going to devour him the rest of his night. The ideas are surging into his mind, and so is his blood in his veins erratically. The wolf is going to wake up.

“Dwi hefyd yn siarad Cymraeg, Sirius darling..” Remus replies as he bows his head dramatically, “But! amo l'italiano…è sexy, che ne pensi? Huh, love?” It is fun to watch Sirius flustering beyond pink color. The sight suddenly hits Remus with Hogwarts nostalgia as he recalls the era of his and Sirius’ mutual pining over each other, and a memory plays in head.

“Sirius, do you want—you know—like if you want to, ever—not necessarily this time—but do you fancy going to Hogsmeade with me, like alone?” Remus asked, and tried to ignore the cold sweats under his arms and lower back.

“Huh? Really? I mean—I-I…like I mean…uh—“ Sirius kept chuckling like he was either short of breath or coughing because of the cold in the courtyard.

“Oh my god, are you blushing?” And he was, and then did a little too much more.

“Uh—Beetroot juice, that’s all.” And with that he scurried away with the sea of the fourth-year students.

Remus really gazes at Sirius with a solemn look. A feeling of warmth and innocence surrounds him because Sirius’ thick eye brows are knitted together and a look of plea swimming his silver eyes, while the cheeks were still flushed pink. He looks endearing than enticing.

“Ah, screw it.” With that, Remus crashes his mouth against Sirius’ which immediately response with a moan. The kiss is soft and passionate at the same time but as they both deepens it, Remus thinks he is able to set the whole world on fire. He tries not to lose himself completely but the scent of Sirius doesn’t elevate his restraining power. In fact, does things otherwise.

“Oh mio, I love you!” Remus gasps when Sirius’ mouth travel to his neck.

“Fuck! Say that in Italian, you git!” Sirius protests and pins his boyfriend by his wrists above his head. And Remus quirks an eyebrow on the boldness.

“Oh, te ne pentirai, amore mio,” In a swift motion, he twists in hands to clutch Sirius’ wrist, and pushes him on the couch. The view is very much appealing. The red skirt loosely tugging on Sirius’ waist, his half-dried hair coming into his eyes, parted lips, lustful eyes, thoroughly flabbergasted. Remus smiles deviously, “Don’t forget that I’m the one with real animalistic instincts, not you, lover boy.”

[divina-yae]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐋𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐭. 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝗼𝗼 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝗼̄

❥𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

✹𝘉𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

Requests are open!!

It was obvious in his clinginess, how you were someone that he confided in, even in the way that he spoke to you, that Kuroo truly cared for you, maybe even loved you, if you thought about it.

However, it was in some of the other small things that made you doubt it as well. Before you, it was his ex-girlfriend, Sayaka. For almost a year they dated, the two of them being known as Nekoma’s power couple.

That was until Sayaka was caught cheating by Kuroo and his friends. As one of his best friends, you were in charge of picking up the pieces. And you did. So well, in fact, that five months later, the two of you were the new power couple.

Months had past since then, but the feelings of insecurity still lingered. As much as you would’ve loved to chalk it up too silly, nonsensical fears, you couldn’t.

The overwhelming difference in your relationship and and his Sayaka’s were glaringly obvious. Things he wouldn’t hesitate to do with her, he’d never once brought up with you.

Whereas Sayaka proudly wore Kuroo’s volleyball jacket at every game, you’d never once seen it. The cheesy love notes he had you proof read before he put them into her locker had yet to make an appearance in yours.

All the since deleted posts of Sayaka, hadn’t been replaced with even one of the two of you, no matter how many times he’d made it onto your social media accounts.

It was the small, yet significant things like this that had you doubting good feelings. You’d had a first hand view to how much being cheated on had crushed him. Was it possible you were just a rebound, a replacement of convenience?

With every day your insecurities continued to grow out of control. With his growing responsibilities and focus on volleyball, he was beginning to become distant, only adding onto your worries.

Not wanting to distract him or seem overly clingy, you began to pull away, as hard as it was.

And yet, you still found yourself sitting with Kuroo on his bed. Upon his insistence, he’d placed you in his lap, stating that it’d been far too long since he’d been able to just hold you.

You didn’t bother pointing out that he could only blame his schedule for that.

“(N/N)-chan~” You huffed, amused. “Just call me ‘(Y/N)’, Tetsu, that nickname doesn’t make any sense.

The ravenette chuckled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “Aww, but it sounds so cute!” You laughed a little, leaning back into his embrace.

You repressed your shiver when his lips landed on the curve of your neck. “I’ve missed you... I’m sorry for being so busy lately.” The feeling of his lips dragging over your skin with every word banished your negative thoughts, at least for the time being.

You interlaced your hands with his, which were placed on your waist. “I missed you too, baby.” It was almost embarrassing, really, how easy and effortlessly your boyfriend could put you at ease and wipe every insecurity away with just a few words.

You spun around in his lap so you could wrap your legs around him and lean your head into his shoulder. “Tired, kitten?” He teased softly.

You nodded, pushing away your flutters. “How about we watch a movie, yeah? You pick something and I’ll get snacks.” You grinned at the suggestion, a relaxing night being exactly what you needed.

“Deal!” The captain pressed a quick kiss to your nose before gently lifting you up and off his lap so he could get up. “I’ll be right back, doll!”

You smiled fondly as he left the room and you grabbed the remote. In no time, your opened Netflix and flipped through the different categories.

You went to his list and settled on a show you liked. You pressed pause content to scroll through your phone as you waited.

However, Kuroo’s phone buzzing caught your attention. The notification was the last thing you’d expect from his phone.

‘Log in your cycle today!’ From Flo, the very app you used to track your own period. You blinked, nothing short of surprised at the notification.

“I got popcorn and skittles, your favorite~” Instead of accepting the treat, you stared back at him, a question in your expression.

“Tetsu, do you have a period?” He immediately choked on a mouthful of popcorn, his shock rivaling your own.

“What the hell- no, (Y/N)! What even?” You laughed at his dramatic reaction, showing him his phone. “Then why do you have Flo, you weirdo?” His expression turned sheepish.

“Ah... I used to keep track of... Sayaka’s so I could I be prepared to help out. I guess I just never got around to deleting it.”

Didn’t bother to delete it? It’d been nearly a year. Was he still hung up on her? The one who’d broken his heart?

You didn’t bother to tell yourself you were overreacting when you felt your heart all but plummet. Never once had he bothered to do anything for you during your weeklong suffering.

You quickly thought of an excuse, all the while feeling bile rise in your throat. “Shit, what time is it?! I totally forget I have a test tomorrow! I have to go. Sorry to rush out, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Except, he didn’t see you the next day. Or even the day after that. You were going out of your way to avoid him, even going so far as to fake being sick.

Your best friend, (R/N), bright you your schoolwork and was even willing to take it to school for you.

They didn’t pry past what you said willingly and went above and beyond for you. They had truly been your saving grace during these last few days.

You knew you couldn’t hide out forever, but you at least wanted to have your thoughts and feelings together before you saw him.

It was the third day and you were sure that you only had the rest of the day to get yourself together. Your family had caught onto your lack of an actual illness on the first day, but they had been giving you grace. Now, you could tell that you were on thin ice, however.

School had just gotten over, and you were expecting (R/N) to come over to give you your homework and also save you from boredom.

You’d even prepared a quick snack to thank her. Nothing major, just onigiri and some fruit. Just as you went to flip on the television, the door rang.

You smiled, relieved, and bounded over to the door. You opened the door, ready to greet your friend.

“Hey! I made oni-“ “(Y/N)?” A voice interrupted, causing you to snap to attention. Your mouth went dry as you looked up at the one person you weren’t ready to talk to.

“Tetsurō... what are you-“ You started, not at all feeling ready to talk to him. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?” You blinked at him, seemingly unable to formulate a coherent response.

“We have to talk. (R/N) told me you were upset, not sick.” Wordlessly, you moved out of the doorway, permitting him entrance.

Here went nothing and everything...

The room was deathly silent as both you and Kuroo stared back at each other. You were sitting at the dining room, each waiting for other to speak.

As much as you wanted to get this conversation over with, the words just wouldn’t seem to come.

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?” He pleaded. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to clutch his shaking hand.

“Tetsurō, I- it’s complicated...” You immediately averted your gaze from his face, the hurt in his expression too much to bear.

“I love you, so much, but... sometimes I don’t believe that you love me like I love you...” A pained sound left his mouth but you pressed on.

“I know how much you... loved Sayaka, and I know how much she hurt you, but Tetsu, I don’t want to be a replacement-“

Arms all crushing you to his chest cut you off, arms belonging to a now sniffling ravenette.

“(Y/N), I-I love you so much, and it hurts that I haven’t made it obvious. Sayaka fell in love with the image of me, the thought that I was some... intimidating bad boy. But you know better than anyone that I’m anything but that.”

You felt your own tears gather at his revelation and you held onto him as he continued. “She got tired of being doted on, or me showing her off. She didn’t like that I was... soft. I didn’t want to lose you because of that so I tried to stop,” He admitted shakily.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “Tetsu, I’ve known you since we were kids. I know you. And that’s the guy I fell in love with. All your ‘soft habits’ are a part of you, and I love all of you. You deserved better than someone who only loved the idea of you, but please don’t let it hold you back from real love.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Thank you, I love you, so much, (Y/N),” He cried.

You placed your hands into his hair and on his back as he whispered teary declarations of love into your skin.

“I’m sorry I avoided you, Tetsu,” You murmured. He exhaled shakily and hugged you tighter. “I’m just glad I have you back. I’ve missed you, Angel.”

You pulled back so you could look him in the face. “I promise you’ll always have me.” His smile was wide and genuine as he pulled you back into his warm embrace.

The two of you stayed there for some time, comforting each other until the disparaging atmosphere faded away.

Once you punched Sayaka in her throat, everything would be perfect.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Wallflower

18+ ONLY 

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k 

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), masturbation, dirty dreams, implies age gap (reader is in 20s+/of age, just younger than Ezra)

No use of (y/n) in this one!

A/N: I know this was not one of the things I should be working on, and I procrastinated on my coursework yet again to write fan fic. I’m so in love with Ezra and I have wanted to write something for this character for a while. It’s my first time writing for him and I was so intimidated to write something about him because his manner of speaking is so unique that I’m worried I won’t do him justice! Hopefully you all enjoy! 

Next thing I post will be the final part of Rest! It is currently in progress! 

I will be updating my taglist form soon to include Ezra and other Pedro characters I write for so check out for that if you want to be tagged in future fics! 

This is unedited and if I miss something to tag as a warning please let me know!

Tags and Requests and OPEN

“Ezra, for once can you please shut the fuck up. You’re driving me crazy,” you sigh, pulling off your helmet as you both return to your shared pod. It was a fairly long trek from the mining site back to your makeshift home and Ezra, being himself, talked the whole time- not once missing a beat.

“Not once have I ever had the pleasure of conversing with one as eloquently a sweet talker as yourself,” Ezra winks, making you roll your eyes. You weren’t actually mad at him, you could never, but one of the side effects of Ezra was limited moments of peace and quiet. In many ways, you and Ezra were very similar, and it made you really compatible partners.

But unlike Ezra, you really enjoyed quiet. Ezra, on the other hand, has had more than his fill of quiet for his lifetime and he basked in the ability to vocalize his every passing thought to you. It wasn’t often you felt the need to tell him to stop, but today had been particularly challenging and you couldn’t think of anything else besides the quiet of night and a good rest.

Ezra and you worked well because you were so much alike, but your differences also paired you two nicely. Ezra was without a doubt the biggest and most long-winded talker you had ever met and you were the best listener, opting to be the silent one in the conversation more times than not. You weren’t necessarily shy, just someone of a quieter nature. You mostly kept to yourself, by choice really, while Ezra struggled with solitude, it was one of the strengths of yours that you were able to endure it better than he could.

When you first met Ezra, he had called you wallflower, cause frankly you were one. Settled in the far corner of the pod with your notebook in hand, sketching instead of talking with the rest of the crew, Ezra made the effort to saunter over to you and made it his personal mission since day one to break you out of your shell. Made sure during mealtimes, he sat next to you, talked to you, asked you questions. Frankly, you owe the friendship you have with him now to his openness and talkative nature.

“Flower, I hope my parley on the trek back didn’t offend,” he says as he sheds off his suit.

“Not at all,” you say with a small smile, “Sometimes my meter runs out on my ability to listen. Tires me out.”

“I suppose I can understand,” Ezra replies, “I honestly seem to have the opposite problem, all my years in the Green, I never had the pleasure of someone to listen to besides my lonesome. Now that I have you, I find myself utterly unable to suppress my desire of spoken prose and I’m afraid I do tend to take advantage of your gentle nature.”

You nod, understanding him very well. It was coming up on seven months since you and Ezra had been on your own. The other three members of your crew had parted ways with you both, seeking out a better treasure.

Ezra, knowing what this planet and greed does, insisted on just doing his job and leaving, and you strongly agreed. It had been so long since the three of them went off for the buried riches, and you don’t even know if they will be returning to your pod at your scheduled time of departure in a few months’ time. Ezra told you stories about how he’s witnessed this job change people, and how he’s seen planets swallow up one’s humanity with no forgiveness. He was doubtful that any of them would return, and you were now starting to realize that his prediction since the beginning was correct.

Once your suit was off and put away, you smoothed out your hair as best you could by touch without a mirror, and headed over to the storage cubby where you both had your rations and grabbed you both a bar. You tossed one over to Ezra and he caught it effortlessly. Peeling back the wrapper of yours, you took a bite and collapsed on your cot.

“I never thought I’d miss those meals they served in the mess hall up in the station,” you comment, “I’d take a portion of those watery mashed potatoes and mystery meatloaf in a heartbeat if it meant I never had to touch one of these bars again.”

Your words made Ezra chuckle, his laugh deep and husky. You loved it. Your chest always swelled with pride just a tad when you had the ability to make him laugh or smile. More often, it was always him getting those reactions from you with his words and you liked the feeling when you were able to return the favor.

You closed your eyes, not falling asleep, just letting them rest while you chewed the rubbery ration. Ezra, tore through his always rather quickly, and he noticed that you still tried to savor yours despite your complaints. Like the taste, even though lacking and the texture terrible, was still like a reward for completing another hard day’s work. He admired that about you. You hadn’t been working this job as many years as him, as he was a few (plus a few more) years your senior. The things about this job he’s long since ignored or has gotten used to, still affected you. You still tried to taste your food, instead of scoffing it down like him and other seasoned prospectors.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts. He felt flushed knowing that he had been caught. It wasn’t intentional, more and more it was hard to keep his mind clear of thoughts of you.

“Sorry, flower,” he mutters, and you smirk, rendering him speechless for the first time all day.

It was undeniable that Ezra’s feelings for you were bubbling up closer and closer to the surface each passing day he spent in your company. You grounded him in ways he hadn’t realized he had needed. He needed someone to reign in his ramblings and tether him back when he lets his mind wander too deep. He needed you. There was this dependency that tied him to you now more than he ever experienced with another partner. It was friendship, sure. But he’s been friendly with partners past, and not once has he felt about them what he feels towards you.

He was a hopeless romantic, his thoughts of love and relationships were as poetic as the words he spoke. Yearning, completely head over heels, his mind constantly cluttered with scenarios of the ways he would court and win your affection if there was no inkling that lingered in his mind that was there to remind him it was a bad idea. You were much more practical than he ever hoped to be, much more wired for logic than he was. However, Ezra was blissfully unaware of how he had begun to rub off on you.

You found yourself daydreaming, caught up in your own little fantasies and escapes from reality, far more often than you had ever in your lifetime. Ezra, always the star at the center of it all. Living a life where you could stay with him somewhere more permanent, different career that didn’t require you both to float from planet to planet, chasing after prizes that weren’t actually yours- you just acted as a vessel, a taxi service for someone else’s riches.

You imagine scenarios where you would have met Ezra at a different time, or a different place. However, you often scolded yourself for allowing your stupid crush to occupy so much of your time. You were here for a job. And then you will leave and move on to your next one like always. It would be too painful to face rejection anyways, you reason. You can imagine the look on his face, thinking about the nicest way possible to reject you. That’s what you want to avoid, the pity. The niceties that will be forced after his inevitable rejection. The first friendship you’ve had the pleasure of having in years are gone just like that.

The pod was more spacious than the pod you would’ve been issued had it just been you and Ezra since the beginning. Two people sharing a pod designed for six felt much more like a livable space. More leg room, more spaces for privacy, it felt a little more like a studio apartment special wise than a glorified tent. You had even pushed a couple of the standard issue cots together and secured them tightly. You had the luxury of an extra pillow, and two of the thin mattress pads- it was like you had a full-size bed, with a beam running down the middle you did your best to cover by overlapping the mattress pads in the center. It was the most comfortable sleeping arrangement you’ve ever had on these expeditions.

Ezra and you strung a line across where both of your makeshift beds were positioned in the pod, and you hung a tarp across the line to make yourselves a privacy curtain. It was like you had your own room and he had his own as well. Ezra’s side was a little cleaner than yours, yours was a little cluttered with little mementos you find and want to bring back with you. Rocks, or small geodes… occasionally you’d bring back small plants that you double checked were nontoxic and you had them set up in makeshift planters- one of the crewmates that left abandoned an extra helmet that was damaged, and now you have an obscure green and purple plant sprouting up proudly from it.

Ezra’s side was much more standard. He had a pile of his old books, all of them weathered, looking like they’d been through hell and back. He had field books, and notebooks that held his years of accumulated knowledge of how he’s survived the Green. He ended up copying your bedding arrangement, and he agreed it was the most comfortable bed he’s had in years. He said it felt like a luxury a prospector like himself didn’t deserve. He also had a small collection of rocks that lined the ledge behind his bed. Little gifts from you, all of them.

“This one reminded me of you,” you’d say, passing him a unique rock while you struggled to keep the handful of the others you collected balanced in your hands. The grin on your face when you’d collect the little things was one of his favorite sights. When the partition that separated the beds was opened, it was a comical sight. Like a bedroom of a married couple on old television shows, where they had different beds and each side was decorated to that person’s tastes. Most of the time though, the partition was closed.

It made changing easier, the bathrooms and showers in pods no matter the occupancy size always had small, cramped bathrooms. However, it created a false sense of privacy because it did absolutely nothing in terms of suppressing noises. Ezra sometimes babbled nonsense in his sleep. The man literally unable to stop talking even when he was rendered unconscious. Most of the times it was completely incomprehensible, not even sounding like real words. Sometimes you’d hear a sentence maybe, but without knowing his dreams it was still alien to you. It was comforting to you hearing him on the other side of the partition, and knowing he was right on the other side made it easier for you to sleep.

Tonight, was no different, curled up in your bed, you were drifting off to sleep while Ezra had long fallen asleep before you. The weight of today’s expedition felt like it melted right off of your body as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were close to falling asleep, just savoring the moments of comfort before letting your mind drift when you heard Ezra say your name on the other side of the makeshift wall.

“What is it, Ezra?” you whisper, grumbling that he interrupted you right before falling asleep. He doesn’t respond, and instead you hear a low snore on the other side. He must’ve fallen back asleep, you figure, closing your eyes. They shoot open a few minutes later when he repeats your name again, but this time it’s a deep moan. His voice was husky and it sent a vibration right up the back of your spine. Your eyes widened at the realization that on the other side of the curtain, Ezra was dreaming about you. You shivered when he let out another involuntary, low groan. If you hadn’t been listening you probably wouldn’t have even heard it.

What do you do? You mind is racing with trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Do you wake him up? You also try your hardest to ignore how every small noise on the other side of the curtain is just going right to your core, making your thighs squeeze together while you keep your own arousal at bay. It was wrong of you to listen in, but you really don’t have much of a choice. You force yourself to take a few unsteady breaths to calm yourself, but it does nothing to ease you in your shocked state. Kevva, the noises he was making were like music. You often wondered what he would sound like. His voice on its own is already so perfect. But in this context? You wanted to hear nothing else.

You don’t even know how long you lay on your bed paralyzed before the temptation becomes too much and you are sliding one hand down the length of your torso and into your sleep shorts. You delicately slide your hand under your dampened underwear and your fingers instinctively find your clit. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the whimpers that escape your lips as you think about the man behind the partition. Your months of pining for him you finally let yourself submit to.

It had been a while. There was no privacy on the pod at any moment. When someone was using the shower, from the other room everyone could always hear the rustling around, if they were humming. It was better to just not try at all. The risk of getting caught was always too high. This was the first time you acknowledged and succumbed to your desires this entire mission. It had been so difficult to avoid, but now, you are taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to you. You weren’t even thinking twice, just closing your eyes and imaging the fingers inside you belonged to Ezra. You were so caught up in your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that Ezra’s side of the room had fallen silent.

Ezra sat up on his bed, His eyes fixated completely on the tarp that was the only thing separating him from you. He felt shameful, waking up from another dream about you. He woke up hard, and he felt immensely guilty. Then he heard your soft moans you were trying so hard to hold back. Now he sat on his bed, completely captivated by the noises on the other side, while he pleaded with himself to either make a move or just try to ignore it and get a few more hours of sleep. He snapped when he heard his name fall off your lips in a small whisper.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” he hears you say on the other side of the curtain. He smiles, probably ear to ear like a goddamn dopey teenager. He stands up and pulls the curtain back, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you laid out. You had stopped, knowing your statement would cause him to pull the curtain back, but the evidence of what you were doing still lingered- your hair sprawled out messy on the pillow, your sleepshirt haphazardly pushed up exposing the smooth skin and curves to him, the slick on your fingertips and the small wet spot on the front of your shorts. You looked up at him with doe eyes and he thought he might collapse on the floor at the sight of you.

“Flower,” he whispers breathlessly in the dark. The only light coming in was from the moonlight outside from the small window on your side you had opened. He thought you looked ethereal, a sight to behold that he was not worthy of gazing upon. He’s speechless. You can’t quite make out his facial expression in the dark and you mistake his breathless tone for discomfort.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, sitting up slightly. “I just... I heard you dreaming about me; we don’t have to bring this up again. Its just loneliness getting to me…”

He tentatively kneels down in front of your bed and you move to hide your face in the pillow so you don’t have to face him. He gently cups your face in his hand, and guides you back to face him. He actually says your name, and you might die hearing it on his lips.

“If what you say is true, and this is nothing more than a lapse in judgement, fueled by the loneliness of the Green, I swear to you I shall never as I live hold this moment against you, and you and I shall commence in the morning living like it never happened. But, if there is any chance these feelings that I have harbored for you are reciprocated, please grant me this opportunity to show you how much I am completely transfixed by you.”

You are now the one rendered speechless as you try to process the new information and the proposal Ezra has offered you. You are having difficultly allowing yourself to believe any of this or anything he says is true. Part of you was wondering if this was part of a dream and you hadn’t yet realized you were asleep. You had to reach out and touch his face, feeling his stubble under your touch, any sort of evidence to know he was physically right there.

“You’re real,” you mumble to yourself, and he chuckles. He takes the hand which you had rested on his face and he presses a kiss to your wrist.

“The number of times I have thought the same thing about you,” he mutters, moving your hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Flower, please…”

“This is more than a just a whim,” you admit, exhaling shakily, “Ezra… I love you.”

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear those gracious words on your lips, flower,” he smiles, his gaze not breaking from your face.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss, unable to take being separated from him anymore. You move your lips against his and you can feel his smile as he moves to position himself on top of you, not even needing to break the kiss. Your limbs tangle with his, and you run your hands through his tousled curls, wanting to just let your hands touch every part of him that he would let you. He rests on hand on the back of your neck, while he uses the other to keep himself from putting all of his weight on you.

“You’re bewitching,” he says softly, as he pulls away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses and bites down your neck and collar bone. “Your beauty is unmatched by anything these tired eyes have ever witnessed,” he praises, as his hands move to slide nimbly under the fabric of your shirt.

He plans to take his time, to completely worship every part of your body and vocalize in every way how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. His moments are slow, and sensual, making you feel like complete putty in his hands. He wants to savor absolutely every part of this shared moment. For so long has he dreamed about this, and so far, everything about you- your noises, your soft skin, all so much better than he ever envisioned. His calloused hands savor every inch of you they graze, committing how every part of you feels to his memory.

His moustache and stubble leave goosebumps behind on every part of your skin he kisses. He leaves a trail of marks behind that with time will definitely darken into small bruises, evidence he can gaze upon tomorrow to remind him this all was not just a dream. In his head, he pleads with his maker that if this is a dream may he please never wake up and suspend him in this sleep state forever. A small price to pay to have you entangled in his arms.

“I love you,” he repeats over and over as he kisses down your body, pressing kisses to every inch he can see and touch, just like he’s wanted to for so long in these strenuous months. His movements are gently, and you moan softly at the sensation of his knuckles grazing your skin as he pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you know completely bare in front of him.

“I want to spend the rest of my days between these thighs,” he mumbles, pressing kisses to your inner thighs and his hands grab them and pull them apart gently. Like a man starved, his tongue works skillfully, giving you so much attention. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. He loves the reactions he can elicit from you and he loves the taste of you. You’re as touched starved as he is and he wants nothing more than to stay between your legs for hours as you moan praises, and shudder under his touch. You back arches and you can’t help but squirm at the sensations, but he holds your legs gently, keeping you in place. The first time he brings you to orgasm is by his tongue, and you can taste yourself on his lips when he finally comes up for air.

You can’t even think of anything to say to reciprocate his words, your mind is hazy and you’re overcome with the feeling. He doesn’t seem to mind, and the look on his face almost proves how proud he is to be the one who’s the cause of your current state. He’s just so wrapped up in how your body is responding to his every move, he doesn’t care you’re completely speechless. The feeling of it all was just too much to try to attempt vocalizing coherent thoughts.

When he finally pushes himself inside you, it completely takes your breath away. He makes sure to go slow, taking his time and letting you adjust. He also needs to steady himself, because the feeling of you wrapped around him is incredible. It’s perfect, and he wants to take his time, but your so tight and feel so good, and it’s been so long since he’s experienced such an intimacy.

“You’re perfect,” you moan softly at the feeling of how he stretches you.

The compliments that fall from your lips, go right to his head, inflating his ego. His kisses become more frantic, and passionate. His hands shamelessly wander the length of your body, groping at the flesh, wanting to just worship every part of you, to just touch every part of you. His rhythm is slow at first, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer and his mind is frenzied at the sensation. His movements become much more sporadic, chasing his relief as you cry out how close you are as your face rests in the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and bites on his neck, leaving your own marks on him like you were returning the favor.

“Cum inside me, Ezra,” you whisper, nibbling his ear and he groans hearing something only in his dreams manifest in the flesh. “It’s safe.”

He bites his lip and you tug gently on the ends of his hair, a moaning mess under him. The way your face contorts when you orgasm for the second time and the sensation of your release is the final sensation that triggers his own. He collapses on top of you, resting his face in the crook of your neck, whispering again how perfect you are before pulling out and rolling over to lay beside you.

You both are breathing heavily, glistening with sweat and feeling euphoric after coming down from the high. Your chests rise and fall as you both work to catch your breath before either of you speak. It’s a comfortable silence, both of you trying to recover. He looks over to you, and you match his gaze. You roll over onto your stomach and rest your head on his chest, taking a few moments before cleaning up. You rest your arm across his torso and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

Here, in the depths of this dangerous planet, you felt safe in his arms. The excruciatingly long days of physical labor, chasing after promises of riches feel fruitless now more than ever, because the best thing you ever found in the Green had been right next to you the entire time.

General Taglist:

@sassy-kassaay​

@letsfly-andbe-free

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[yanderenightmare]

If this isn't allowed I'm super sorry, but could I request Enji with a (Male/GN) darling that's scared of him. Like he always thought Enji was super scary as a hero and now that they're captured, he can't even stand to be around Enji without shaking or crying.

YANDERE ! ENJI TODOROKI x MALE ! READER

This is not what you asked for… I’m sorry this is all just… absolute filth… I got too excited, hope you like, sorry if some of these themes are triggering

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, degradation, feminization, spit-fetish, Enji being an ass, yandere, profanity, abuse, anxiety, manipulation, misogyny

FEAR

He doesn’t know exactly how to explain what replaces Enji’s presence when he leaves for work in the morning. He wants to say that it feels good, that it’s a relief, but that would be a bittersweet lie that leaves him feeling guiltier than it should, because when Enji’s not there to fill the space of the giant mansion, all that’s left is cold tiles, soundless rooms, and somehow… a lack of safety. He thought about it while finishing cleaning the second to last room, dreading entering the next, knowing how he’d find nothing there, just more emptiness, just more stale unmoving shadows on walls, more cold, more void, more loneliness, more fear.

He needed to shower before Enji got home. Enji would bathe with him later in the day too, but it would be after… after they played. He’d been talking and teasing that very soon he was going to be doing more than just sucking cock. Yesterday, he was made to sit on Enji’s face for half an hour, all while Enji fisted his own cock furiously in the same beat he lapped at the tiny budding butthole so ripe for the taking on top of him. But, he hadn’t done it, he hadn’t pushed a finger inside, he had barely wormed his tongue into the hole, only made to suck on it, before pushing him off and down into the sheet so he could cum all over his pretty little face, his white thick seed running and mixing in with fat globs of tears. But today, he wasn’t sure if Enji would still spare him being impaled on his fat thick monstrous pole. The thought had him nearly whining as he removed his clothes, padding over the clean reflective cold marble floors to step into the shower that seemed so strangely massive without being filled with both himself and Enji’s intimidating build.

It was as though he could already feel Enji’s warm hands holding onto his hips, steadying him as he was sure he would be uncontrollably quaking. It was as though he could already feel it filling him up, lifting him off the ground, off his feet, hauling him up into the air.

He turned the temperature too high to imitate what heat Enji would emit when thrusting into him, the shower-droplets stinging on his reddening skin. It hurt, but he needed to prepare himself, only physically if not mentally. He wiped a hand up between his butt-cheeks, stroked a finger over his hole a couple of times, teased to see if he at all wanted to slip it inside. He whimpered upon facing the inevitable fact that Enji’s massive thick pole would soon push inside him, push all the way inside him, fill him up so snugly and painfully and inescapably, holding him still as he crammed himself inside, probably even chuckling that gruesome snicker when seeing how he would try and wiggle out of his death-grip.

Enji is too big for it to possibly feel good, it’d be too painful, too painful to feel anything else, except fear. Fear would always survive. Fear of choking to death on his cock filling up his tight throat, more so than the pain of it actually happening. Fear of the feisty flames licking his skin more so than realizing how they only tickle not sear. Fear of being trapped, so much so he forgets to humor the idea of running, of fighting, of saying no. Fear of how he was going to be impaled, split in two on the hero’s cock before the day let up.

His own size wasn’t bad, but probably not what one would call impressive. He wondered if Enji would ever ask for him to penetrate him in turn. If… perhaps he could bargain to do that instead of the other way around, but he knew that was a foolish thought. He didn’t want to touch it, even as he felt it twitch against his stomach, because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to touch it while Enji fucked him. Instead, he pushed one finger inside the comfort of his ass, worming the digit inside the tight space, his forehead soon pushing against the shower-wall to steady himself while he tried to get deeper. It was nowhere near what would be happening later, he knew that, but with the thought, the imagery of what would no doubt be happing later, it still managed to make his toes curl. The thought of Enji’s large warm gravely hand coming to stroke up and down his cock while penetrating him from behind, the sounds of his husky gruff voice huffing and grunting into his ear, letting him know what a perfect little pet he is.

He felt ashamed, and so utterly confused. How come he still turned on, even with the amount of fear and trepidation that pumped the boiling blood through his system? Why wasn’t he pissing himself instead of standing there, fingering his own hole, fantasizing about how much pain he was going to be in later, and getting off on the fact? Was it true what Enji had said? Was he really a submissive little masochist that would soon be worshipping the ground Enji walked on?

The questions were answered as he felt himself explode all too abruptly onto the glass, seeing his cum splattered onto the dewy steamed wall, watching it run down, creating paths that were slowly being washed away by the ongoing spritz of the showerhead.

He made then to shave his chest first, then the rest, all the rest, everything except the hair on his head, he knew Enji wouldn’t be pleased with anything but perfection, and even though the razor nicked him in sensitive places he was still extra careful to not miss a single spot, going over the same area several times to achieve complete smoothness. He turned the water too cold to stop the bleeding and to ease what soreness and irritation had been awoken by the activity, muscles tensing and flexing under the pressure, thinking that perhaps the freeze would encourage getting dressed… though he doubted it.

He got dressed slowly, having to talk himself down from crying as he clasped the lacy white bralette on, dragging it into position even though it had no real position on his chest. Then the dress. Splayed out so prettily on the bed, Enji’s declaration. White and patterned with pink poppies, a real housemaid’s frilly skirt and sweetheart neckline and thin shoulder-straps and everything pretty and dainty and feminine, one that worked so perfectly as an underdress for an apron.

The dress was nice and all, nicer than most things he’d ever worn before, but the apron was a real work of art. Frills decorating the edges, sweet swirls and flowery embroidery working its way up the white cloth, still with white thread, looking handmade yet with precision and delicacy. The stocking matched to some degree yet not carrying the same ornate expensive-feel to them, also adorned with a frilly edge were the sock stopped mid-leg. The shoes were plain enough: white with an easy button-over contraption, only slightly high-heeled, yet high enough to make that clicking errand sound when he walked across the marble floors each time Enji rung his service-bell, calling on him from where he sat on his knees with his hands folded neatly in his lap, supposed to wait patiently at Enji’s every beck and call, even though the large man was only a few meters away with a voice that could easily reach him no matter which room he found himself in the mansion, Enji insisted on using the bell. Loving to see how the boy skittered to his feet, hands running timid fingers to smooth over the fabric of his apron, shoes clicking together at the heels. His wintry voice so fragile and scared half to death as he answers Enji’s steely cyan glare: “Yes, Daddy?” His eyes falling sullenly to the floor to watch the cute rounded curve of his glossy shoes instead of looking to meet the fiery yet ice-cold eyes of his captor.

He avoided the mirror, even though he knew he should look over himself one more time for Enji’s sake, or for his own. He was given no boxer, no underwear, no measly thong, nothing, and therefore was subjugated to walk the empty halls in his flowing skirt with the cold air wafting in between his legs, kissing his limp cock each time he made a swift step, his shoes clicking, clicking, clicking, like the clock counting down the minutes until Enji came home.

“Welcome home, Daddy.” He needed to force himself to smile. Crooked in its execution, broken, yet still a smile, a smile Enji was pleased with as he kicked off his shoes, even happier to see him bow down to pick the pair up and place them neatly in the stacked shoe-compartments, despite the stink of them being drenched in sweat after his day of patrolling. His cock was already growing heavy with hunger. “How was your da-” He wasn’t given the time to answer before Enji wrapped both his hands around his waist from the back, slotting his massive warm hard chest against what felt like his paper-thin back, but he didn’t need to be able to carry Enji’s weight as he did most of the lifting himself.

A gravely sigh erupted from the man’s chest, rumbling against the boy’s back. “It’s so nice coming home to someone so appreciative and sweet.” He mumbled up against his spine, nose gliding up his neck, followed by a heavy inhale, breathing in the scent of the shampoo he’d told him to use, seemingly content as he pushed his crotch better against his ass. “I’ve tried getting hard for that slut breeding-cow all month…” Of course, his little experiments. He was a good fuck, but he couldn’t carry children, and producing children, or rather heirs, was something Enji and his fucked-up need to be number one was obsessed with. “You should see her, fucking begging for my cock, like my cock is her god. Pathetic.” He was glad he didn’t have the ability to get pregnant. He could only imagine what those wives of his were feeling, so insignificant, only a means to an end… but… that was rather what he was too. “And you just look at me and my cock is already twitching.” He smelled him again, nose blaring, hands trailing over the fabric of his apron and dress to feel up his thighs, grabbing at them before guiding him out of the entrance and into the living room. “Strip.”

It seemed so unnecessary for him to even be wearing clothes at all when they always ended up on the floor, especially such intricate clothes as well that needed to be removed with elegance and not shaky unsure fingers like his. But that was rather the point. It was a show, he guessed as he reached behind his back to undo the bow of the apron. A rather clunky graceless strip-tease, he mused when the apron fell unceremoniously to the floor, the dress following shortly after.

That was it, he’d learned, the rest Enji wanted to do on his own. He couldn’t understand how a man could still look so intimidating even when on his knees removing his shoes. Large, large hands cupping the small clothed feet, unclasping the buttons and sliding them out of their enclosure. He left the socks on this time, they were going to be part of the show, them and the bralette, and nothing else.

“Bend, I want to see that perfect little ass of yours.” His voice would be casual if it weren’t for the dripping boiling-hot lust that stuck to his tongue as he spun his toy around and pushed him over the back of the white couch, liking how it was too tall to meet his hips for a proper bend and instead aided in lifting him up on the very tips of his toes. He licked his lips, tugging on the crotch of his pants.

Scorching fingers grabbed the ample flesh of his ass, kneading it up like dough before he felt the wet sludge off his tongue gliding a trail up his spine, only stopping once he came to his neck where he began kissing wet, so very wet, drooling kisses up behind his ear. Again, inhaling through his nose as his clothed cock nuzzled neatly between his presented ass, humping into the welcoming heat.

“You smell good, did you shower like I asked...” Asked? They both knew it wasn’t a request, but yet he nodded his head from where he felt the blood beginning to pool where he was resting on the sofa-cushions upside-down. “Such a good pet.” His hips curved into him so he pushed his bulge up into his plushie backside, hands rubbing circles into his midriff, pulling him back to meet his mellow thrusts. “Is your throat still sore from choking on my cock?” His fingers, laid steadily on the softness of the couch, bending to grip the surface in order to hold himself back from crying. “Answer when you’re spoken to, pet.” Enji sounded bored, slightly bitter as he pressed his growing cock harder into his breakable little hostage.

He felt the tears begin to fall despite his efforts. “Sorry.” He pipped, half his face now buried in the couch. “My throat is fine, thank you for asking.” Enji’s hand went back to carelessly wandering, instead of gripping his hips so harshly.

“Good, I’m glad.” The statement didn’t seem heartfelt. “Spread your legs. Give me your hands.” His suspicion was answered through the heartless commands, Enji didn’t care.

He moved his feet away as much as he could without losing contact with the floor, which wasn’t really far at all, but he guessed Enji would steer him into the right position when the urge fell over him. Letting go of his grip on the couch-cushions proved more difficult as he was left sinking even further into the plushie surface without any support, yet he still managed, bending his elbows to fold his arms on his back, making it easier for Enji’s massive hand to grip both his wrists at the same time.

“I’ve been looking forward to taking this ass for so long…” He groaned, his hand giving the ass a rough squeeze. “Perhaps that’s why that slut can’t get me hard anymore, since I know what a perfect little pet I have waiting for me at home.” It was as though he used the fat of his ass as a handle to pull him up, lifting him briefly off the couch before dropping him back down again, hearing him give a little yelp at the action, again causing him to groan in satisfaction as he bumped his erection into where it fit so perfectly between his ass-cheeks. “I’ve been waiting so patiently… and so have you.” Enji mused, as though the boy at his mercy was having any of the same cravings. “I think today is the day we both get our reward.” Enji pulled on his wrists, dragging him off the couch, his feet meeting the cold floors again and quickly yanked into Enji’s hard chest. “I know you’re excited, but let’s get you to the bedroom first.” He taunted when he gave another squeal, looking up to see Enji’s unforgivingly hungry cerulean gaze, having tears and fears and swirling panic brimming in his own. “Wipe those tears, you can comfort yourself with having your face stuffed, use my cock like a pacifier.” The comment did far from comfort him, instead evoking a whimper as he swallowed thickly in a way of suppressing the hiccup that wanted to hitch in his throat at the dark promise.

He must have blacked out or zoned out or something alike it as a form of preparing himself for Enji, for when he came to he was upstairs, already placed on the bed, on his knees, in front of a naked Enji and large thighs made up of pure muscle and scares, and hair. Then of course the centerpiece, Enji’s large intimidating cock standing proudly up against his ripped stomach, with its angry mushroom-shaped swollen head puckering right into his face.

Enji’s hand rubbed lazily over the tip, smearing what precum had already beaded in the slit. Yet, he wasn’t given too long to just stand and admire it as Enji’s other massive hand come up to grip the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his short locks to form a better hold, pulling him down to level with the beast, pushing him further, head mushed and buried to cuddle with the manhood. Enji’s hips leaning in on repeat to meet how his hand pushed his face against the sensitivity of his sex, balls slightly swinging up against his chin.

“Come on, use your tongue.” Enji didn’t waste any time, starting to pull at the roots of his hair in order to frighten him into obeying. He succeeded, as the boy opened his mouth and laid his tongue out flat to taste the salty skin it was pressed against. “Lick from the base.” Enji commanded and the boy listened, dragging his tongue up with the guidance of Enji’s hand steering the back of his head up the entire length of his cock. Pulling him slightly away from the activity, making the boy wince at the sharp stinging off his roots being yanked. Enji’s other hand gripping the base of the giant pole to tap it in a slapping fashion against the lips that seemed so welcoming and warm, the boy shutting his eyes allowing some more tears to drip from where they had been welling. “Open up.” He did as he was told, lips parting to accommodate for Enji’s weeping cockhead. “There you go, taste me.” He groaned as he pushed his head further onto his cock, traveling into his mouth, filling him up and prodding at the back of his throat. The boy knew better than to think he was any less than half-way done, yet he couldn’t hold back the reflex of gagging. Not that Enji paid any mind to the complaint, only placing his other hand to control his chin as he continued nudging himself deeper, sinking down his throat. “Come on, swallow all of me, I want to feel that cute nose buried in my belly with your tongue licking my balls.”

He tried relaxing his throat, choking his length and girth down and down, sniveling as he held back the urge to pull away, knowing how the hand Enji placed at the back of his head wouldn’t allow him to move anyway.

His eyes traveled backwards when the lightheadedness of being barely able to breath got to him, which was when Enji let up, freeing him as both hands took their leave from holding him steady. “Such a good pet, do as your told.”

He coughed into the bedsheets while Enji’s hand pet over his head, his own fingers tightly gripping the fabric beneath, knuckling the textile into his palm, trying to compose himself before his head was guided to look back up at Enji again, who seemed to tower over him even though the both of them were on their knees, though the boy was rather bowing for the giant red-headed man.

Enji’s fat fingers came to pry open his mouth, pushing past everything with little regard. “Suck these fingers for me.” Shoving the digits down his throats and fucking the soreness for a while before retracting them. “Spit in my palm.” He didn’t argue, unless the sniffling cough he gave were to be considered a protest, before spitting all the saliva his mouth had produced when being attacked by the mass that filled him up before. “Get back on that cock.” 

Again, he didn’t waste any time, adamant on making sure Enji knew that there was no need for him to be using his hands to force himself down his throat as he guzzled down on his length, bobbing up and down with his head, letting him kiss the back of his throat as he glugged with his lips forming a tight circle around his girth, using his tongue to slide out to cover what areas of his cock he couldn’t reach when swallowing him down at the pace he was going. Desperately trying to please the beast.

Enji gave no warning, pushing his fat digit into his puckering hole from where he was being such a good boy with sucking him down like he’d asked. Filling and stretching his little ass, dragging an adorable whine from his throat, a whine Enji received on his cock, the unrestrained voice giving nice little tremors to vibrate alongside his girth, settling somewhere at the tip of his cock before traveling down into his heavy balls, making him buck deeper into his face. “Wouldn’t want that cute butt to get lonely while I fuck this pretty face.” He explained, as he sank the finger even further into his ass, listening to him mewl a panicked whine around his cock, simply fucking even deeper into his face, hand clasping around the back of his head to better rut into his skull, finger roughly stretching out the tender tight muscles from behind.

He cursed gruffly once he let up, admiring as his pet drooled and spluttered to breath at the absence of his cock in his mouth, spit slobbering down his chin and landing in thick puddles dampening the bedsheets beneath them. 

“Look at me.” He whimpering as Enji once again grabbed a tight hold on his chin, rough fingertips planted into his cheeks, sliding in saliva as he forced him to look up, lifting him upright, so much so his hands needed to leave their station on the bed in favor of supporting himself against Enji’s chest or else he’d simply be held up by Enji hand like a noose. “Open that mouth up.” He did his best to comply with the demand with how his hand seemed to pressure his jaw shut, though he managed, having his cheeks squeezed and lips puckering like a duck out towards him, a perfect parted hole he could aim and spit right into. “Swallow that for me pet.” It came as a shock having Enji’s warm liquid shot onto his tongue but he quickly recovered, letting it slide down his jugular before he swallowed. “Good boy. What do you say?” He could feel him quenching his pride and all hopes of fighting back in the whimper that ran up beneath his fingers on his throat.

“Thank you, Daddy.” There was no spite in the words, just wholehearted defeat and surrender, and the potency of it all sprung right to Enji’s ego, making his attention-craving cock throb with neediness.

“Good pet.” Hand tightened around his throat to lift him even higher up to meet with his face, kissing his slick face roughly, stiff lips setting the motion, bloated lips following suite, before the hand around his throat once again took advantage of its power and threw him back down on his hands and knees. “Now finish your meal.” The statement held nothing but hungry cruelty, followed by a long blob of spit dripping slowly from his tongue onto his cock, sliding down its length. “Lick it up.” Unsure eyes looked up through stinging saltwater, finding no hint of mercy, encouraging him to do what he was told before earning himself a punishment. Mouth promptly taking the large cock into his mouth again, yet he felt the sting of a slap to his cheek all the same. “I said lick, not suck.” He resisted the urge to soothe the red stinging flesh of his cheek and did as he was corrected, tongue lapping up the underside of the angry cock in his face. “Yes… good… there you go.” He was praised, and though it made his stomach sink, he also felt relief, for at least praise was far away from disappointment and the punishment that followed such a resolution.

What followed was simply Enji’s rumbling groans and moans as his fingers played with the short locks of hair at the back of his head, somewhat steering where his head would go, how far away and how up close and personal, whether to suffocate him with cock or not. He compliantly slurped up and down his length with his tongue hanging out from his mouth, spit dribbling down his chin, down his neck, dropping to the bedsheets beneath them, before Enji groaned again, this time signaling that he was bored, hands yanking him away from the wet activity.

“Lie down on your back.” He wasn’t given much freedom to do so on his own as he was pushed down and kept down as Enji swung his leg over his chest where he laid beneath him, trapping face between his thick deadly hairy thighs, threatening to squish his head until it popped from the pressure. “Open your mouth up pretty.” He gaped, feeling the slick of Enji’s balls slide on his chest as he sat down on top of him, pushing much air from out of his breakable ribcage and the lungs beneath. Cock laid between his nipples, cockhead touching his chin. Again, a blob of his spit met his tongue, accompanied by a light playful slap against his cheek. “Keep it open.” He couldn’t hold up to Enji’s command as rough fingers pulled at his sensitive nipples, squeezing them and tugging at them through the thin lacy fabric of his bralette, rubbing on them, making him whine in discomfort, yet with his hands locked to his side underneath the contraption of Enji’s thighs, he was given no room to fight back. “So pretty.” Enji admired, tweaking the nibs tenderly as he rocked his hips forwards, cock sliding up and down his chest, balls squished against him, before he sat up again, kneeling with his cock and balls hovering over him, threatening to sit down and suffocate him while riding his face.

Enji gripped his cock and tugged it up and down to dance his balls on the pretty face beneath him, though the wet cavern he wanted to dip into shut into a thin line before he could.

“I said keep your mouth open.” He growled and the boy was reminded of the former command, promptly opening wide. “Tongue out, play with these balls, Pretty.” His tongue rolled out, at once met with the size of Enji’s nuts as they slid up and down his wet muscle. “You get to decide today: do you want a face full of cum or do you want me to fill that belly up?” He wasn’t given much air to retort with his mouth being filled with cock and balls, Enji’s hand resting on his forehead to keep him perfect and still for his manhood to abuse. “Come on, pick one.” He made him gag as he forced his entire pole down his throat, allowing him no chance to reply. “That’s fine, you can have both since you’re so spoiled.” Again, he stuffed his mouth with his balls, making him gargle and suckle on them, before he took his shaft in one hand and slapped the side of his face, liking how his eyes squeezed even tighter shut at the sharp contact. His face covered in spit and smeared with precum, slick and glossy, with pretty wet lashes. “Let’s paint that face first.” He slapped his face with the weight of his cock again, before placing it on the middle, balancing the slug on his lips and nose, resting between the bridge between his eyes, chin buried in his ball-sack. “Smile for me, smile for Daddy.” 

He forced on a broken uncomfortable smile where he laid beneath the brute man, eyes still kept shut. Enji smeared what oozing precum had breached his tip onto his lips, as though requesting him to open up, which he did, being met with the entire mass of his cock stuffing his mouth, tickling the back of his throat as he fucked into his face. 

“Swallow me down, Pretty. Stay right there.” He choked and gagged at the feel of him continuously pushing into the tight canal of his throat, yet wasn’t allowed to move as Enji’s hand still balanced his head by tugging at the hairs over his forehead, pushing him into place. He coughed and spluttered desperately once Enji let go, though was given minimum time to collect himself again before Enji gave another growling and ruggedly desperate command. “Smile.”  

He fisted his length in his palm, finger rubbing over the tip, pumping furiously into the face beneath him before thick ropes of white cream came shooting out of the tip, hot and wet and sticky when it landing all over his face, running down his cheek, into his mouth, letting him taste bittersweet salt on his tongue.

Enji continued rubbing himself, though slower now, eyes scrunched close as he held onto the euphoric feeling of exploding, feeling himself gradually and too quickly for his liking, coming down from the high, though as he opened his eyes and looked down at what pretty artwork he’d made on his pet’s face he found that he was far from finished.

“What do you say?” His hand’s movements were slow and calculating as he rubbed himself tenderly, without rush.

“Thank you, Daddy.” He hiccupped, relieved to get some rest even as the stench of Enji aided in his discomfort, feeling his stickiness begin to dry on his skin. The rest didn’t last long though as Enji’s cockhead bumped into his lips, demanding he open up to take him inside his mouth again.

“Clean the tip.” He sucked on the mushroom-head, tongue swiping up to clean out the weeping slit. “Such a hungry spoiled pet. Does Daddy taste good?”

He let go with a pop to answer, knowing it was better to just play along. “Mmh, yes, Daddy.” He kissed the head, strings of slime connecting his lips to the thick pole. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Enji reached his hand behind him to find the perky perfect nipples he played with before, pulling at the nib to retract an open-mouthed whine from the boy, allowing him full access to the welcoming wet hole. “Suck some more, get all your spit out on me, get my cock nice and ready for your little butt.” He felt him whine and whimper on his cock at the sound of his words, the panic feeling delicious as it came out like vibrations tickling alongside his length, settling in his balls as he once again fucked into his little face, with him having no chance of escaping, being trapped so perfectly between his thighs. But, his face had gotten used and abused enough, and it was high time he buried himself balls-deep in the no doubt tight hole of his ass and fucked him into a crippled stupid mess.

“Come on, up on your knees.” Strong hands grabbed his hips as he moved off of him, dragging him up into position before he even knew what was happening, with no strength of his own to support himself, falling face first into the pillow to rest, an agonizingly cute display to the man standing behind him, lining him up. “Little boy is gonna get his ass stuffed by Daddy.” He started to jerk himself off, holding his hip and pulling him close. The hand ascending to his mouth so that he could spit into his palm, gathering wetness before grabbing the limp cock of his pet in his massive warm hand, resulting in the boy jolting out of his resting pose, surprised by the sudden touch of his sensitive member. Though he was pushed back down again by Enji’s other hand, it having left his own cock leaving it to rest between his ass-cheeks. “No, no.” He scolded. “Posture, Babyboy, face down in your pillow.” The massive hand pet over his head, pressuring him to simply lie there and take it. “Get this ass up.” He corrected his stance by pulling his hip up into position, back arching like a cat stretching, ass pulled close into Enji’s crotch. “Hands on your back, give me those hands.” He fished for the limp arms, folding them behind his back, letting go once he was assured the boy knew to listen to the order. “Now spread those knees.” Enji took hold of his thighs and shuffled his knees further to the side, the boy feeling the wetness of cold spit on the sheets, as Enji continued stroking the cock between his thighs so lovingly and tenderly, rubbing over the sensitive tender velvety cockhead again and again, feeling him leaning back and shivering under the touch. “There we go, perfect.” The hand pressed against his back dragged down his spine slowly, before it stopped to cup the ample soft dome of flesh, his thumb swiping over the unprotected tight butthole, all ready for the taking, helpless and broken and all his. “Are you excited?” Enji shuffled back on his knees, giving a quick glance over the perfect ass in front of him to inspect the face that was neatly and snuggly squished against the pillow, happy to see the pretty concoction of fear, surrender and anticipation displayed on his face, just like a submissive pet should look.

He shuddered as he felt Enji’s warm breath on his ass, the exposed sensitive ring of tender flesh slightly burning at the feeling.

“No one’s ever taken this ass before, have they?” The statement was rhetorical as he already knew the answer and was instead a gesture made simply to gloat, as it was followed by a satisfactory hum and a set of warm wet lips pressing a sloppy kiss onto the puckering opening, hand still jerking his cock, having him shivering for him. “You’re all nice and ripe for me?” Another wet kiss was placed at the entrance, though this time the lips remained tightly locked, mouth sucking on the skin, tongue laid out flat as he dragged the rough rigid texture up over the hole, before poking through the sensitive rim, pumping the fat wet muscle in and out of the tightness. He let go with a smacking pop, lips quitting their suction.

His thighs were shaking by the end of it, his cock still held firmly in Enji’s hand, allowing him no room to move away, in fear he might just rip his dick off. Enji balanced his own cock between the perfect set of plump ass-cheeks raised up for him. Putting his thumb into his mouth before he once again rubbed it over the now wet hole, pushing through the tight rings of muscle to bury the digit inside. “So tight.” Came his rugged breath as he groaned, beginning to rock his hips forward while pulling the boy back to meet him by the thumb he had hooked inside him, his thighs meeting with the back of his ass, as his cock stroked through the crack, where large heavy balls clapped against smaller ones.

The thumb was removed, though not the hand handling his cock as he was left drooling into the pillow he was pressed against, his own hands going numb where he’d managed to keep them perfectly folded behind his back. Though the absence of the thick thumb was soon replaced, doubled even, as two fingers sank into the hole, promptly curling them, forcing him to whine like a cat, a moan so wet it stuck in the drool in his throat. He whimpered as the digits parted from each-other inside him, stretching him out, before pumping them in and out slowly, working the tightness.

Enji groaned at the sound of the boy’s measly whimpers, wet and pathetic, perfect. “I think your pretty ass is ready.” He gripped his cock, tugging on it up against his stomach, spitting onto the glistening wet hole presented to him, the one he was soon going to plant himself deep within. He slowly and carefully, taking his precious time, as though savoring it, lined his manhood up at the puckered opening, gently pushing his twitching cock into the back entrance, forcing a cry out of the smaller creature at his mercy. “That’s so tight…” He moaned, closing his eyes, focusing on the tight snug fit pressing around his cockhead, hugging him close. His fingers had definitely made it easier to enter, but it wasn't enough to make it easy by any means. “Does it feel good?” The tone was patronizing, as though he was talking to a child, looking over at the drooling mess he was burying himself inside, feeling his butt twitch around the fatness of his tip, as though sucking on it. “Want me deeper?” He started slowly sliding in inch by agonizing inch. Breaching each ring of muscles that surrounded his fat length. “All the way?” Watching as his hard sex disappeared into the ample ass until he was completely engulfed. The view alone had him pulsing inside.

One hand steadied the ass, making it easier to sink into place without any interruptions or split-second fearful protests, acting as a represent and fear-tactic, threatening to land a sharp painful smack against the soft flesh if he were to go against what Enji had made clear was going to happen one way or the other. The other hand had more or less the same purpose, where it laid slow attentive strokes to the unsheathed throbbing cock. Though as he bottomed out inside his ass, the hand moved from playing with the painfully tender pulsating pole in favor of fondling the balls at its base, gathering both his own and his pet’s in his warm palm and messaging them together before he slid slowly out of the clenching tight hole, enjoying the tremors that seemed to wreck though the frail body he had positioned in prayer-stance before him.

“You like that?” Enji purred, having pulled almost all the way out before pushing back inside the warm walls of his slave. “You like getting taken in your tight little ass?” He wasn’t necessarily fishing for any response, most likely the opposite, simply wanting to prove how right and good and perfect their dynamic was, how this is something they both wanted, both needed. “Nothing to say, pet?” He snickered as he once again stuffed him completely full with his cock, listening to the wet choked moans that were whined into the pillow beneath him. “Is my little pet enjoying himself that much, is my cock that good?” He picked up the pace, only a little, rocking faster, fast enough for his balls to begin swinging to hit the other pair of balls it met with each soft thrust. “Tell me how good my cock is.” The hand steadying him squeezed the plush doughy flesh, a pain sharp enough to bring him to his senses, allowing him to formulate what words he knew Enji wanted to hear.

“Fe- feels good, Daddy, thank you Da- Daddy, feels so, so goo- good.” He croaked, face hugging the pillow close, buried in the fluff of it, the plush sucking up what drool seeped from out the corner of his mouth, and what tears spilled down from the corner of his eyes. The cover wet and sticky and itchy against his skin as he rocked softly further into it each time Enji filled him up and pushed him down.

“That’s right.” Enji drawled with a smirk, gorging at the submissive wet mess he had wrapped around himself. “And you thought you were scared.” He chastised. “When we both knew you were just hungry.”