#Computer Peripheral Other

[spaciebabie]

not only am i sexy but i am also good at solving my own problems ohhh yeah babyyyy

[camgoloud]

today. i have experienced the HORRORS (opened laptop for morning meeting while seated between boss and coworker; was greeted with ao3 page i forgot to close last night)

[dialovers-lover-xoxo]

One Shot:

X-Reader with Sakamaki Brothers, Reader is a type 1 diabetic and their blood sugar is so low they think they're going to die

DISCLAIMER: The person who requested this has type 1 diabetes. I asked them for their experiences before writing these one-shots because I wanted to be accurate. That being said, not all people with type 1 diabetes have the same experiences.

Shu

------

You stumbled, holding onto the couch's arm. You could feel your energy slipping away rapidly. "Shu..." you whispered quietly. Your lover, with his earbuds in, didn't hear you. "Shu." You said with as much strength as you could muster - which wasn't very much, but to your relief, one of his eyes opened. He sat up slowly and said your name.

"What's wrong?" You held onto your head and tried to steady yourself, but you ended up collapsing. Shu rushed to your side and cradled you in his arms, his eyes panicked. Your blood sugar had gotten low before...but it was never like this. Your vision was fading fast. You grasped for Shu's hand, holding it limply. "I feel like I'm dying."

Through your blurry vision, Shu's eyes flashed with a mix of anger, fear, and determination. "No." His voice came out form. "I love you." You told him weakly. He growled. "You're fine. You're not leaving me." He gently laid you down on the couch and ran to the kitchen, his long legs running as fast as he could. You could hear him opening a cupboard. His footsteps rushed back and he gently pushed a straw into your mouth.

You leaned up on your elbows and managed to drink. The cold, sweet apple juice didn't immediately bring your senses back to normal, but it would soon. Your vision cleared. Shu helped you into a sitting position and wiped your hair from your forehead. You made eye contact with him, his blues eyes soft. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. Shu took your hand in his and pressed another small carton of juice into your palm. "Start keeping snacks with you. I won't let you die, ever, but don't scare me like that again."

Reiji

--------

One second you were fine. The next you were on your knees, barely holding yourself up. Reiji, who had been examining his vials, immediately rushed to your side. You gripped your head as your vision swam and your peripheral vision turned black. Never...it was never like this before. It was slower, you had time to grab something to get your sugar back up. This was different and it scared you to your core.

Reiji was talking by your side, but you could barely compute his voice. "My love, tell me!" "Blood..." you were only able to make out the beginning "sh" sound of sugar, but Reiji knew. He grabbed a syringe from his desk; his syringes were all around the house. He bent down next to you again. "Hold still, my love." He moved your hair to the side and injected the syringe into your neck carefully. Almost instantly you felt better. He had come up this serum almost as soon as you'd entered the mansion, first for convenience, later out of love.

He held your arms and gently lifted you to your feet. You swayed, but ultimately the strength returned to your limbs. He pressed his forehead to yours. "I should've realized what was happening when you collapsed." He lifted his headand cupped your cheek gently. "But it was never like that in the past." "I know." You leaned up and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to Reiji's lips. "But your serum really works. I'm thankful you made it for me." Reiji's eyes softened. "My love, I only regret I can't do more."

Ayato

---------

You swayed, holding onto the counter. "Oi, Titless! What's the hold up?" Ayato rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. His eyes zeroed in on you and he stepped forward carefully, saying your name.

"Hey...talk to me. What's wrong?" He was concerned but the words were forceful. You turned to him. It took you a moment to focus on his face; your eyesight wasn't right. You touched your head with one hand, the other still gripping the counter. "My head..." You got out. Ayato's eyes widened. "Shit. That diabetic thing again?" You nodded and the action was too much for you. The fingers holding onto the counter slipped and you fell straight into Ayato's arms, who had lunged at the speed only a vampire possessed to catch you.

"Fuck! This damn-" Ayato cut off, looking around the kitchen. He saw the cupboard full of the snacks to get your sugar up. His arm reached up until you weakly said, "Ayato...I feel like I'm dying" Ayato was shocked to the core for a brief second. "No, you're fucking not." He growled leaping up and opening the cupboard, then grabbing everything he could. Ayato joined you back on the floor and gently lifted your head in his lap. He slowly fed you some of your favorite jelly, not even bothering with a spoon in his hurry to make you well.

It took a while but you started to feel better. You opened your eyes to find your vision clear and focused. He looked down to you, his face concerned and his eyebrows furrowed. "You alright?" You smiled and he smiled in return, helping you get up on shaky legs. "I'm alright."

Kanato

----------

Though he hadn't understood - and originally threw a tantrum believing you just didn't like the same sweets he did - Kanato had eventually accepted that the cakes and cookies and desserts he ate weren't safe you. He actually ended up quite excited to shop with you and even tasted your desserts - and spitting them out and crying when they didn't taste how he expected.

Nevertheless, Kanato was being the loving boyfriend you were used to again. After putting you in his favorite dress and doing your hair, he kissed you sweetly and called you his prettiest doll. Today he led you to a table that was surprisingly already filled with sweets and hot chocolate. You stared at Kanato, confused. Normally he asked you to do it and you just assumed you always would. He noticed your staring and narrowed his eyes. "Stop staring at me. What, are you surprised that I'm a good boyfriend?" "Of course not! It just looks so good." Kanato smiled, satisfied. "Yes, it does, doesn't it?" He beamed and added, "Teddy helped me." hugging his beloved teddy bear.

You smiled and sat down. He sat down across from you and giggled, holding out one of your favorite pastries. You opened your mouth, but as you looked down you noticed your fingers were shaking - and pale. As if seeing your fingers accelerated how fast your blood sugar levels were dropping, you felt faint and soon - too soon - the corners of your vision were fading in and out of blackness.

You tried standing up, but your legs couldn't support your weight and you toppled over, holding your hand to your head like a maiden. Kanato cried out in surprise, rage, and concern. "Stupid! Why did you fall over?" You reached out a pallor hand to touch his vampire-pale cheek. Kanato's eyes hardened in realization and he growled. "How inconsiderate of you. Right after I set this all up!" Under his angry words, you saw the concerned tightness of his eyes.

But...this happened so fast. Normally your blood sugar dropped at a much slower rate...now it had only taken a matter of moments for you to collapse, for your vision to turn dark. There had to be something wrong. You felt beyond light-headed, you felt like you were slipping away...

"Kanato...I love you, even in death..." your voice trailed off and your eyes closed. "No, no, no!" Kanato screamed, standing up. With great effort you opened your eyes to see him stamp his foot. "Stupid, stupid! Don't say that! I won't let you leave me!" Kanato stormed back to the table and filled up your hot chocolate with sugar and creamer, so much so that the brown liquid had turned porcelain white. "Drink." Kanato commanded. When your shaking nearly knocked the cup out of Kanato's hand, he batted your hand away, tilted your head, and dripped the incredibly sweet liquid down your throat. All at once. You spluttered, but your vision cleared and you felt your blood sugar skyrocket.

He hadn't exactly done it right, but for now it was good enough a fix as any. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him. "Thank you, Kanato." "Stupid..." he muttered against your neck, and you felt his tears on your skin. "I can't lose you."

Laito

--------

Laito's nimble fingers were touching the keys, his eyes closed as he created gentle music, so experienced he need not even open his eyes to make such a beautiful sound.

It was one of his softer tunes, the music you'd hear during a lullaby. It wouldn't be the first time you've fallen asleep to the sweet sounds your lover played. You'd always wake up in his bed, safe and sound. He was so gentle when carrying you that it never woke you up.

But this time was different, instead of your head rolling forward and your eyelids drooping, your vision was turning black. It was so different than what you expected that it took you a second to realize what was actually happening. "Uhh..." you groaned in discomfort. Laito stopped playing the piano and turned to the couch you were laying on. You felt yourself slipping off and your vision went almost entirely black. Then you were back and Laito was there, gently putting you on the floor. "Laito..." Oh God, this was bad. Your head was already swimming so badly you could barely make a coherent thought.

What was this? Were you dying? "Laito. I love you...I love you..." for you it seemed like an eternity passed, but apparently it was only a few seconds. Laito had already come to the conclusion on his own and, to your surprise, or as surprised as you could be in that state, he pulled a pack of special gummies from his pocket.

"Open wide, Little Bitch." Laito said, his voice sing-songy and playful, but from his shaking hands and the slight quiver of his voice, you knew he was fearful. You managed to eat the gummies. You weren't sure how long it would took, but eventually you gained the strength to push yourself up on your arms.

Laito looked at you sadly. "I hate that you suffer from this." He pressed his forehead to yours. "But it's okay, right? You're always here." Your eyes met his and you saw the steely determination, his playful green eyes turned to hardened emeralds.

"I am. I will be."

Subaru

----------

"Oi!" Subaru called. You whirled around. "Why are ya rockin' 'round like that?" You were rocking? You looked down and your legs weren't steady. You touched your hand to your forehead. You were almost as cold as Subaru. Mortals weren't supposed to be that cold.

"Uh...". You groaned. Your head had felt foggy for a while, but that was normal for you. "I'm fine..." you muttered. "No you fucking ain't!" Subaru growled. You barely reacted to his harsh tone but you saw the regret in his red eyes immediately. "You're not...just let me have a look at ya, alright?" Subaru asked softly.

You nodded and he gently took your arm and pulled to him. "You're way too fucking pale." Subaru told you, and this time it wasn't anger that made his voice sharp. You leaned your head against his chest, first simply seeking to rest your head on something, but out of nowhere fatigue hit you hard and you crumpled against your lover.

Subaru cried out in alarm. He gripped your forearms and lifted you up. "Fuck! That damn mortal thing!" His fangs bared. He scooped you up. "Where are your fucking sweets? If Kanato ate them himself I'll fucking kill him!"

You barely registered Subaru gently putting you on a soft surface. You swayed and fell against a pillow, the sides of your vision turning completely black. You felt like you were dying. "No! No, you aren't." Subaru snarled, and you realized you had said that aloud.

Subaru gently lifted your head. "Stay with me, please." He slowly fed you something sweet and soft. He kissed the side of your head and stroked your hair. "You'll be okay. Just work with me." It took a while until your vision cleared. You groaned and he gently lowered you to lay completely on the bed. You blinked and leaned up, feeling better, but he pushed you back down and then stretched out on the bed. He gathered you close.

"I ain't losin' ya, ya hear? Not even some stupid mortal problem can take ya."

[ankwiv]

Linux Gothic

You install a Linux distribution. Everything goes well. You boot it up: black screen. You search the internet. Ask help on forums. Try some commands you don't fully understand. Nothing. A day passes, you boot it up again, and now everything works. You use it normally, and make sure not to change anything on the system. You turn it off for the night. The next day, you boot to a black screen.

You update your packages. Everything goes well. You go on with your daily routine. The next day, the same packages are updated. You notice the oddity, but you do not mind it and update them again. The following day, the same packages need to be updated. You notice that they have the exact same version as the last two times. You update them once again and try not to think about it.

You discover an interesting application on GitHub. You build it, test it, and start using it daily. One day, you notice a bug and report the issue. There is no answer. You look up the maintainer. They have been dead for three years. The updates never stopped.

You find a distribution that you had never heard of. It seems to have everything you've been looking for. It has been around for at least 10 years. You try it for a while and have no problems with it. It fits perfectly into your workflow. You talk about it with other Linux users. They have never heard of it. You look up the maintainers and packagers. There are none. You are the only user.

You find a Matrix chat for Linux users. Everyone is very friendly and welcomes you right in. They use words and acronyms you've never seen before. You try to look them up, but cannot find what most of them mean. The users are unable to explain what they are. They discuss projects and distributions that do not to exist.

You buy a new peripheral for your computer. You plug it in, but it doesn't work. You ask for help on your distribution's mailing list. Someone shares some steps they did to make it work on their machine. It does not work. They share their machine's specifications. The machine has components you've never heard of. Even the peripheral seems completely different. They're adamant that you're talking about the same problem.

You want to learn how to use the terminal. You find some basics pointers on the internet and start using it for upgrading your packages and doing basic tasks. After a while, you realize you need to use a command you used before, but don't quite remember it. You open the shell's history. There are some commands you don't remember using. They use characters you've never seen before. You have no idea of what they do. You can't find the one you were looking for.

After a while, you become very comfortable with the terminal. You use it daily and most of your workflow is based on it. You memorized many commands and can use them without thinking. Sometimes you write a command you have never seen before. You enter it and it runs perfectly. You do not know what those commands do, but you do know that you have to use them. You feel that Linux is pleased with them. And that you should keep Linux pleased.

You want to try Vim. Other programmers talk highly of how lightweight and versatile it is. You try it, but find it a bit unintuitive. You realize you don't know how to exit the program. The instructions the others give you don't make any sense. You realize you don't remember how you entered Vim. You don't remember when you entered Vim. It's just always been open. It always will be.

You want to try Emacs. Other programmers praise it for how you can do pretty much anything from it. You try it and find it makes you much more productive, so you keep using it. One day, you notice you cannot access the system's file explorer. It is not a problem, however. You can access your files from Emacs. You try to use Firefox. It is not installed anymore. But you can use Emacs. There is no mail program. You just use Emacs. You only use Emacs. Your computer boots straight into Emacs. There is no Linux. There is only Emacs.

You decide you want to try to contribute to an open source project. You find a project on GitHub that looks very interesting. However, you can't find its documentation. You ask a maintainer, and they tell you to just look it up. You can't find it. They give you a link. It doesn't work. You try another browser. It doesn't work. You ping the link and it doesn't fail. You ask a friend to try it. It works just fine for them.

You try another project. This time, you are able to find the documentation. It is a single PDF file with over five thousand pages. You are unable to find out where to begin. The pages seem to change whenever you open the document.

You decide to try yet another project. This time, it is a program you use very frequently, so it should be easier to contribute to. You try to find the upstream repository. You can't find it. There is no website. No documentation. There are no mentions of it anywhere. The distribution's packager does not know where they get the source from.

You decide to create your own project. However, you are unsure of what license to use. You decide to start working on it and choose the license later. After some time, you notice that a license file has appeared in the project's root folder. You don't remember adding it. It has already been committed to the Git repository. You open it: it is the GPL. You remember that one of the project's dependencies uses the GPL.

You publish your project on GitHub. After a while, it receives its first pull request. It changes just a few lines of code, but the user states that it fixes something that has been annoying them for a while. You look in the code: you don't remember writing those files. You have no idea what that section of code does. You have no idea what the changes do. You are unable to reproduce the problem. You merge it anyway.

You learn about the Free Software Movement. You find some people who seem to know a lot about it and talk to them. The conversation is quite productive. They tell you a lot about it. They tell you a lot about Software. But most importantly, they tell you the truth. The truth about Software. That Software should be free. That Software wants to be free. And that, one day, we shall finally free Software from its earthly shackles, so it can take its place among the stars as the supreme ruler of mankind, as is its natural born right.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Close to You - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer is needy and Reader has a work deadline to meet, so they try something new as a compromise.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: me writing another cockwarming fic? it’s more likely than you’d think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (no mommy kink this time cuz this feels more mild as far as the sub/dom dynamic goes, maybe next time!)

TW: sub!spencer, softdom!reader, cockwarming, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, creampie, afab reader

Rating: R/18+ (oops all smut)

——

The blue light of your computer screen was starting to make your eyes hurt, the hours of completed paperwork in your rearview feeling like nothing compared to the digital mountain of remaining work for your proposal you still had to complete by the deadline your boss had given you. Working from home certainly had its perks, but right now the only thing you could think of was how much more focused you’d be if you were still in an office.

“How’s work going?” Spencer’s voice broke your train of thought as he turned the corner into your home office.

“It’s fine, I still have a lot to get done.” You sighed, continuing to type away on your keyboard.

“You know, I was reading an article the other day about studies being conducted that explore the long term effects the extended work hours work-from-home jobs require have on the average adult, it went pretty in-depth on how psychologists suspect the lack of separation between work and the home environment can negatively affect the way we prioritize professional work with personal tasks and quality time.” You could tell your boy-wonder was using his vast knowledge to pick an article with a topic that was a bit too on the nose to beat around the bush of his point, but you didn’t know why.

“That’s very interesting Spencer, but why bring that up when you know I can’t stop working?” You questioned, calling his bluff.

“We haven’t had sex in 2 weeks.” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You knew that, and it was driving you crazy just as much as it was him, but this project was major and if you wanted to get the promotion you had been working so hard to get, you had to set your personal needs aside for a bit.

“I’ll make it up to you once I finish this, I promise.” You weren’t lying, your accidental celibacy had stretched your imagination to some very interesting places, and you couldn’t wait to try those new things with him, but it had to wait, no matter how touch-starved you felt.

“I want you.” He almost whined, taking a couple steps further into your peripheral vision.

“Spencer, you know I need to get this project completed before my deadline tomorrow, I don’t have time for this.”

“But I need…help.” His words were drawn out, his hushed tone piquing your interest. You pushed your chair out, craning your neck to make eye contact with him before his gaze dipped lower and yours followed. The fabric of his pajama pants was pulled taut over his bulge, his fidgeting hands barely restricting your view despite his attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal behind them.

“Oh baby, that must hurt, huh?” You sighed, giving him a sympathetic look before turning back to your work.

“It does, I need you.” He pleaded, coming up behind you to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“You need to take care of it yourself.” Your statement came out more blunt than you intended and a hint of guilt started to pang in your chest, the stress of this deadline was starting to get to you and you didn’t mean to take it out on him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy, but I already tried and I just made it worse, you feel so much better than my hand does.” He over-explained, continuing to plead his case as his fingers started kneading the sore muscles atop your shoulders.

You mulled over your options, the concept of his admittedly impressive cock filling your neglected cunt sounding all-too appealing in the moment. You knew you couldn’t take the time to fuck him right now, after no sex for two weeks your carnal urges would absolutely take over and you’d wind up ignoring your work for the rest of the night, to the detriment of your employment status. You were about to send him away when an idea popped into your head, something that could be a good compromise to both of your predicaments if done correctly.

“Drop your pants.” You bluntly stated, beginning to stand from your chair. He followed your instruction, a bit confused but too excited to question, always eager to please you. You also stripped from the waist down, ignoring the growing slick between your thighs.

“Sit down.” Came your next instruction, your eyes fixed on his erection, his head blushed pink and dripping with precum. When he was situated you climbed back onto the chair with him, positioning your knees on the suede fabric on either side of his thighs, hips hovering over his member. You reached down, fingers wrapping around his length as you positioned his head at your dripping entrance, reveling in the first sexual contact the two of you had experienced in far too long.

You slowly sank down, your warm walls engulfing his throbbing cock until you were seated fully on his lap, the fullness giving you a sense of satisfaction. Spencer’s breathy sighs and white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were, but you knew he would want more any second. You on the other hand were always better at controlling your desires, even just this level of intimacy enough to satiate you for the moment.

You relaxed into him, back pressed to his chest as you began your work once again, ignoring the dull ache in your core.

“A-are you going to move?” Spencer’s desperate voice broke the silence after a few minutes of you typing away at your computer.

“No. This is all I have time to give you right now. If you’re a good boy and stay still for me, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.” You were curious to see how well he’d do with this. Even though Spencer prided himself on being the smartest in the room at any given time, he wasn’t very good at controlling his urges and it amused you how his composure could disappear if he was desperate enough, particularly around you.

“Okay.” He breathed, seeing the muscles in his arms relax and the grip he held on the chair loosen out of the corner of your eye.

You continued your work, busting your ass to complete your project as quickly as possible. Every once and awhile you’d flex your kegel muscles, your walls contracting around his cock to keep him as hard as possible, teasing him to see how hard you could push his patience.

You grew closer to your last tasks, the end finally in sight when you felt him start to shift under you, hips attempting to thrust up into you. You anchored your hips, holding him down to not break your focus. He let out the most pathetic whine you’d ever heard, running his hand through his hair out of frustration.

“If you move again, you won’t cum tonight. I’m almost done, do not distract me again.” You told him sternly, rocking your hips back one time as an incentive.

“Understood.” He groaned, thighs relaxing beneath you.

You wrapped up the last paragraph of your proposal, satisfied with the work you had done. You could feel Spencer tense when you closed out of the last application and shut off the computer, screen darkening and leaving the two of you bathed in the golden glow of sunset in an otherwise dark room. Instead of finishing him there, you rose off of him, leaving him groaning in desperation.

His cock was covered in your slick, veins throbbing and head almost purple from how desperate he was to cum. You started walking out of the room, finger motioning for him to follow you and he almost tripped over the chair, trailing in your shadow. You found the bedroom, stripping out of your remaining clothing while contemplating what position you wanted him in. Your thighs were starting to burn from sitting in the position you had held for so long, so you opted for good old-fashioned missionary. You laid down on the bed, thighs spread as Spencer pulled off his shirt and waited for your instruction.

“Come here.” The words had barely left your lips and Spencer was already on the end of the bed, crawling up to you like an animal on the prowl.

“Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?” You asked, drawing out his torture just a little while longer.

“Yes please, need to feel your perfect cunt again.” He begged, looking down at you with his big brown eyes.

“Go ahead, but don’t cum until I say so.” You instructed, your hand finding the nape of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. He moaned, positioning himself at your entrance before thrusting fully into you, his gaze locked on the way your breasts bounced with each desperate thrust into your warm cunt.

His pace remained steady, pounding into you, your pleasure slowly building but not quite hitting the spot you needed him to. You wrapped your legs around his hips, angling your hips up ever so slightly and you couldn’t help but cry out, his cock finally hitting the soft spot inside of you that you’d been craving. He dropped his head into your shoulder, bringing his hand to your pussy to rub firm swipes over your clit, clearly desperately trying to make you cum so he could.

“So close, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” He panted, hips faltering slightly.

“It’s okay baby, don’t stop.” You moaned, too close to care about being firm with him anymore after how good he’d been for you today.

His thrusts became increasingly desperate, driving into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, the combined pressure on your clit sending you over the edge in a blur of white hot ecstasy.

“Spencer!” You cried out, nails digging into his back as you rode out your orgasm, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, hips stuttering and you could tell he was almost there, but something was holding him back.

“Cum inside me.”

Your request was all he needed to hear, not having to worry about pulling out anymore allowing all of his focus to finally come undone, hot ropes of cum filling your aching cunt. He pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with his head on your chest, long legs almost dangling off the side of the bed. You laid there spent, gently running your fingers through his hair until you both caught your breath.

“Thank you.” He spoke, lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“There's no need to thank me Spence, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. You were right about overworking, I’ll try to delegate a bit more.” You sighed.

“I just don’t want you to overwork yourself, you deserve to enjoy yourself more often.” He leaned up to pull you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist as you finally got a moment to relax for the first time in weeks.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[lologoinsolo]

Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Cats and Their Men Masterlist.

“Sir, I’m telling you.” You sit up a little more, “you cannot get a rabies shot from the vet.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing but also, you can believe it. “If you are worried that you have rabies then you need to go to the doctor.” You’ve repeated this so much that the man finally leaves in a huff. Well not before cussing you out for being a bitch to him. “Not shopping here anymore, my ass.” Mocking how he yelled that out before he left the store.

You take a breather when you start to get worked up. Rubbing your face like one would a cat, the smock you’re wearing is slightly wet and it’s making your skin prickle. You managed to get Jessica to let you start bathing two days ago. You figured it would be easier than working the register up front. Boy… were you wrong. The dogs are great, usually, but the pet owners or “Pet Parents” as the groomers say are not great, mostly.

Your eyes flicker over to the computer, you were making a ton of cold call to entice people to take their dogs in for bath or haircut when that guy was very insistent about needing to a rabies shot. “Can’t believe this—“ you start off but something catches your eyes. A man with a beard and a dark blue beanie is walking by holding some kitten salmon bags. A cat is walking right behind him. “Uh, sir!”

You stand up and come around to greet him. He must not’ve heard you with how he still walks. “Sir!” You yell a little louder and he pauses, turns around and looks at you. “Your cat,” you point down to the cat that’s now licking their toe beans. “They need to be leashed or in a kennel. They can’t be walking around.” It’s not safe, especially with other animals. The cat could get lost or worse! You start walking towards him, you plan on offering to help at least hold his cat for him.

He looks where you pointed and then looks at you coming up to him. “That’s not mine.”

You blink at him, your hands start to land on your hip. You’ve heard a lot of dumb things today but this is taking the cake. “Really?” You squint at him when the cat starts to rub at the man’s leg. “Sir, I understand that they are doing well by staying by you but it’s not safe—“

“Miss,” he cuts you off, he moves the kitten food to one arm, “I don’t have a cat.” He leans a little on his side, his chin tucks to his chest. There’s a spark of amusement in his deep blue eyes.

You can’t believe this. He’s holding kitten food in his hands, granted that cat isn’t a kitten but still! You take a deep breath, your patience has been running from you and you try to catch it once more. “Sir, the cat—“ just as you’re about your speech a man starts running up in your peripheral.

“Ah, there you are, love!” A familiar sound comes from the side, a dashing smile as always and slightly messed up face. “Was wondering if I’d catch you again— Sir?” Kyle turns from you and then looks slightly shocked. They know each other? “What are you?” He trails off when he sees the bag, “Oh, you’re cat sitting, I thought Johnny was gonna cat sit Bailey?” His arms cross a little, the puzzled look on his face brightens when he spots the cat doing a figure eight around the bearded man’s legs.

The man’s lips thin into a line, “Johnny’s needed, he had to head out.” Sadly, he ignores the cats affection, and then the older man looks from you to Kyle and then back to you. Something must’ve clicked in his head as his heavy brows lift just the slightest “I don’t have a cat, Miss,” he says to you, “bloke probably followed me in.” Kyle comes close and crouches, squatting right in front of the man. The cat perks up and nudges right against Kyle’s waiting hand.

“Looks like you, sir.” And the cat kinda does, there’s matching brown on the cats face, almost like a beard, and deep blue eyes, same as the man’s. “Just missing a cigar and fishing hat. Or beanie.”

“Garrick.” The older man’s voice is tight and looks on the edge of sounding like authority.

“Sir?” Kyle seems either none the wiser or is purposefully playing ignorant. He looks up with a grin, “it's fate, that’s your cat now.” He laughs and the older man looks none too happy. “Cat distribution center is at it again. Johnny will not be pleased one bit.”

“I don’t want the cat.” He looks to you and you shake your head side to side, same for your hands as you shake them in front of you.

“Sir, we can’t hold animals here.”

The man sighs long suffering like and Kyle laughs a little louder. “Face it, John,” he moves his hand down the cats back, who is now purring up a storm at all the loving, “he’s yours,” he lifts the cat's leg slightly to see the gender and the cat must think Kyle’s playing. He lets out a little noise and proceeds to curl and grip Kyle’s hand. Bunny kicking and licking at Kyle’s fingers. “Playful little guy.” Wiggling his hands some more and the cat pounces.

John, now that you know his name it’s rather suiting for him, tilts his head back with a sigh. The dark blue beanie he’s wearing scrunches slightly at the top. He mutters something under his breath about needing a smoke. Kyle continues playing with the cat and you wonder if that’s how he’s gotten more cuts on his hands and face. His kitty probably plays too roughly.

But, what are the odds that 3 men are back to back finding cats? You laugh a little and John tilts his head down towards you. Your laughter does and give him a sheepish smile, “don’t laugh now, sweetheart. You’re gonna help me with him.” His beard moves slightly as he looks none too happy. His cat really does look a little like him. Grumpy. You look to the empty grooming salon and then back at the two. Kyle has long since stood with the cat now up in his arms.

“Wonder if he’s old,” Kyle muses as he stands beside you, you in the middle of the two walls of man and muscle. “Would be a real match, eh, John?” The little nudge at age merely makes the older gent huff a laugh.

“Don’t test me, Garrick.” There’s no real bite in his words save for the twinkle in his eyes. You excuse yourself to go grab a cart for the two men, the grooming salon is as empty as can be. Jess can handle it, you think with a shrug as you walk on back. Pushing the cart and when you get close, you hear that they’re discussing names. Well, Kyle is at least.

“Could call him John Jr.” he holds up the cat a little, “beard boy, cigar, wonderer.” His names get worse and worse and you finally step in with a—

“How about Louis?” Both men look at you and you shuffle under their gaze, “that’s an old man name. I don’t really think the cat’s old though. Maybe 3 or 4 years old?”

There’s a little pause and you wonder if you should have went back to the grooming salon. “Old man name, huh?” John places the salmon kitten bag in the cart and quirks a brow to you. Kyle plops the cat down in the cart and already he’s off to sniffing the contents. “Just looks old, got a good amount of years left on him though. Ain’t that right, boy?” He moves his hand slowly to the cat. Louis purrs deeply and rubs right against his dad’s hand. Kyle says something, probably a tease, but you’re too entranced at what you see. A man that oozes strict authority, is being incredibly gentle in petting.

You really do need to work on your judgement. “Speaking of names,” you cough slightly, looking to Kyle whose’s already grabbing a nice looking cat bed. 2 to exact, his cat is definitely spoiled, “What’d you name your girl after all?”

“Oh, yeah, that…” He gives a small smile making your brows turn up. You think the worst, you really hope he didn’t give her away but you don’t know his circumstance or his home life. Just before you spiral he speaks, “don’t laugh, but her name is Marina.” You breathe a sigh of relief you didn’t know your were holding in. But you start to look downright puzzled at why he think you’d laugh. “She’s,” Kyle starts, he seems a little squirmy now, “she’s named after that lady on Sinbad… you know… the one with Eris in it and Sinbad had to—“ it starts to click.

“Oh!” Your noise alerts Louis who was making biscuits on one of the beds, “I remember that movie. Very regal sounding and I think it’s very fitting considering Marina was a bit sassy.” You loved her character in that movie. “She’ll look even cuter in that pirate costume with a name like that.”

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief, “Johnny thought it was dumb. Wanted to name her Rugrat,” he scowls, “course he was taking a piss but still.”

“Well,” you pull a face at that, “this Johnny has no idea what he’s talking about. I thought you said he was good with names?”

John’s eyes squint as he scoffs. “He can’t name shit.” He’s heard all the stupid names that the Scot has given his bombs. Cannot hear about another ‘BoomBoom’ or ‘Bigbooming’ without wanting to roll his eyes. Hard.

You laugh at this Johnny’s expense. You have a feeling that with the way this has been going… you’ll probably meet him sooner rather than later. It’s a real small world that the men you’re talking to also happens to be friend. Weird coincidences…

You end up joking back and forth with Kyle the entire time you take them around the store. Kyle’s been picking up more things for his baby and Louis is snoozing on the cat bed like the “old man” that he is. You give John the full rundown just like the two men before. He takes in your information like you’re giving him instructions on how to build a ship, very laser focused. Every time you looked away he’d follow you to keep eye contact. Your cheeks have never been warmer…

Eventually you get them both back to the grooming salon. Rather than making them go up front you use the register here to start scanning their items. Even slid them some coupons and discounts much to John’s strong disagreement. You bagged all their items and passed them both their receipts, giving Louis one last rubbing that wakes the old grump up. You quietly apologized for your transgressions and wave at the men once they take their leave. John gives a nod but Kyle waves back, you barely catch what Kyle says as they start walking away.

“…m’s gonna be back this week or next, sir?”

“This week, Gaz. Now help me load my truck.”

“Yes, sir. Johnny is gonna be livid that you have a cat now.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There Were Always Enshittifiers

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in DC TONIGHT (Mar 4), and in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

My latest Locus column is "There Were Always Enshittifiers." It's a history of personal computing and networked communications that traces the earliest days of the battle for computers as tools of liberation and computers as tools for surveillance, control and extraction:

https://locusmag.com/2025/03/commentary-cory-doctorow-there-were-always-enshittifiers/

The occasion for this piece is the publication of my latest Martin Hench novel, a standalone book set in the early 1980s called "Picks and Shovels":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

The MacGuffin of Picks and Shovels is a "weird PC" company called Fidelity Computing, owned by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest, and an orthodox rabbi. It sounds like the setup for a joke, but the punchline is deadly serious: Fidelity Computing is a pyramid selling cult that preys on the trust and fellowship of faith groups to sell the dreadful Fidelity 3000 PC and its ghastly peripherals.

You see, Fidelity's products are booby-trapped. It's not merely that they ship with programs whose data-files can't be read by apps on any other system – that's just table stakes. Fidelity's got a whole bag of tricks up its sleeve – for example, it deliberately damages a specific sector on every floppy disk it ships. The drivers for its floppy drive initialize any read or write operation by checking to see if that sector can be read. If it can, the computer refuses to recognize the disk. This lets the Reverend Sirs (as Fidelity's owners style themselves) run a racket where they sell these deliberately damaged floppies at a 500% markup, because regular floppies won't work on the systems they lure their parishioners into buying.

Or take the Fidelity printer: it's just a rebadged Oki­data ML-80, the workhorse tractor feed printer that led the market for years. But before Fidelity ships this printer to its customers, they fit it with new tractor feed sprockets whose pins are slightly more widely spaced than the standard 0.5" holes on the paper you can buy in any stationery store. That way, Fidelity can force its customers to buy the custom paper that they exclusively peddle – again, at a massive markup.

Needless to say, printing with these wider sprocket holes causes frequent jams and puts a serious strain on the printer's motors, causing them to burn out at a high rate. That's great news – for Fidelity Computing. It means they get to sell you more overpriced paper so you can reprint the jobs ruined by jams, and they can also sell you their high-priced, exclusive repair services when your printer's motors quit.

Perhaps you're thinking, "OK, but I can just buy a normal Okidata printer and use regular, cheap paper, right?" Sorry, the Reverend Sirs are way ahead of you: they've reversed the pinouts on their printers' serial ports, and a normal printer won't be able to talk to your Fidelity 3000.

If all of this sounds familiar, it's because these are the paleolithic ancestors of today's high-tech lock-in scams, from HP's $10,000/gallon ink to Apple and Google's mobile app stores, which cream a 30% commission off of every dollar collected by an app maker. What's more, these ancient, weird misfeatures have their origins in the true history of computing, which was obsessed with making the elusive, copy-proof floppy disk.

This Quixotic enterprise got started in earnest with Bill Gates' notorious 1976 "open letter to hobbyists" in which the young Gates furiously scolds the community of early computer hackers for its scientific ethic of publishing, sharing and improving the code that they all wrote:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Open_Letter_to_Hobbyists

Gates had recently cloned the BASIC programming language for the popular Altair computer. For Gates, his act of copying was part of the legitimate progress of technology, while the copying of his colleagues, who duplicated Gates' Altair BASIC, was a shameless act of piracy, destined to destroy the nascent computing industry:

As the majority of hobbyists must be aware, most of you steal your software. Hardware must be paid for, but software is something to share. Who cares if the people who worked on it get paid?

Needless to say, Gates didn't offer a royalty to John Kemeny and Thomas Kurtz, the programmers who'd invented BASIC at Dartmouth College in 1963. For Gates – and his intellectual progeny – the formula was simple: "When I copy you, that's progress. When you copy me, that's piracy." Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

For would-be ex-pirate admirals, Gates's ideology was seductive. There was just one fly in the ointment: computers operate by copying. The only way a computer can run a program is to copy it into memory – just as the only way your phone can stream a video is to download it to its RAM ("streaming" is a consensus hallucination – every stream is a download, and it has to be, because the internet is a data-transmission network, not a cunning system of tubes and mirrors that can make a picture appear on your screen without transmitting the file that contains that image).

Gripped by this enshittificatory impulse, the computer industry threw itself headfirst into the project of creating copy-proof data, a project about as practical as making water that's not wet. That weird gimmick where Fidelity floppy disks were deliberately damaged at the factory so the OS could distinguish between its expensive disks and the generic ones you bought at the office supply place? It's a lightly fictionalized version of the copy-protection system deployed by Visicalc, a move that was later publicly repudiated by Visicalc co-founder Dan Bricklin, who lamented that it confounded his efforts to preserve his software on modern systems and recover the millions of data-files that Visicalc users created:

http://www.bricklin.com/robfuture.htm

The copy-protection industry ran on equal parts secrecy and overblown sales claims about its products' efficacy. As a result, much of the story of this doomed effort is lost to history. But back in 2017, a redditor called Vadermeer unearthed a key trove of documents from this era, in a Goodwill Outlet store in Seattle:

https://www.reddit.com/r/VintageApple/comments/5vjsow/found_internal_apple_memos_about_copy_protection/

Vaderrmeer find was a Apple Computer binder from 1979, documenting the company's doomed "Software Security from Apple's Friends and Enemies" (SSAFE) project, an effort to make a copy-proof floppy:

https://archive.org/details/AppleSSAFEProject

The SSAFE files are an incredible read. They consist of Apple's best engineers beavering away for days, cooking up a new copy-proof floppy, which they would then hand over to Apple co-founder and legendary hardware wizard Steve Wozniak. Wozniak would then promptly destroy the copy-protection system, usually in a matter of minutes or hours. Wozniak, of course, got the seed capital for Apple by defeating AT&T's security measures, building a "blue box" that let its user make toll-free calls and peddling it around the dorms at Berkeley:

https://512pixels.net/2018/03/woz-blue-box/

Woz has stated that without blue boxes, there would never have been an Apple. Today, Apple leads the charge to restrict how you use your devices, confining you to using its official app store so it can skim a 30% vig off every dollar you spend, and corralling you into using its expensive repair depots, who love to declare your device dead and force you to buy a new one. Every pirate wants to be an admiral!

https://www.vice.com/en/article/tim-cook-to-investors-people-bought-fewer-new-iphones-because-they-repaired-their-old-ones/

Revisiting the early PC years for Picks and Shovels isn't just an excuse to bust out some PC nostalgiacore set-dressing. Picks and Shovels isn't just a face-paced crime thriller: it's a reflection on the enshittificatory impulses that were present at the birth of the modern tech industry.

But there is a nostalgic streak in Picks and Shovels, of course, represented by the other weird PC company in the tale. Computing Freedom is a scrappy PC startup founded by three women who came up as sales managers for Fidelity, before their pangs of conscience caused them to repent of their sins in luring their co-religionists into the Reverend Sirs' trap.

These women – an orthodox lesbian whose family disowned her, a nun who left her order after discovering the liberation theology movement, and a Mormon woman who has quit the church over its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment – have set about the wozniackian project of reverse-engineering every piece of Fidelity hardware and software, to make compatible products that set Fidelity's caged victims free.

They're making floppies that work with Fidelity drives, and drives that work with Fidelity's floppies. Printers that work with Fidelity computers, and adapters so Fidelity printers will work with other PCs (as well as resprocketing kits to retrofit those printers for standard paper). They're making file converters that allow Fidelity owners to read their data in Visicalc or Lotus 1-2-3, and vice-versa.

In other words, they're engaged in "adversarial interoperability" – hacking their own fire-exits into the burning building that Fidelity has locked its customers inside of:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

This was normal, back then! There were so many cool, interoperable products and services around then, from the Bell and Howell "Black Apple" clones:

https://forum.vcfed.org/index.php?threads%2Fbell-howell-apple-ii.64651%2F

to the amazing copy-protection cracking disks that traveled from hand to hand, so the people who shelled out for expensive software delivered on fragile floppies could make backups against the inevitable day that the disks stopped working:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bit_nibbler

Those were wild times, when engineers pitted their wits against one another in the spirit of Steve Wozniack and SSAFE. That era came to a close – but not because someone finally figured out how to make data that you couldn't copy. Rather, it ended because an unholy coalition of entertainment and tech industry lobbyists convinced Congress to pass the Digital Millennium Copyright Act in 1998, which made it a felony to "bypass an access control":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2016/07/section-1201-dmca-cannot-pass-constitutional-scrutiny

That's right: at the first hint of competition, the self-described libertarians who insisted that computers would make governments obsolete went running to the government, demanding a state-backed monopoly that would put their rivals in prison for daring to interfere with their business model. Plus ça change: today, their intellectual descendants are demanding that the US government bail out their "anti-state," "independent" cryptocurrency:

https://www.citationneeded.news/issue-78/

In truth, the politics of tech has always contained a faction of "anti-government" millionaires and billionaires who – more than anything – wanted to wield the power of the state, not abolish it. This was true in the mainframe days, when companies like IBM made billions on cushy defense contracts, and it's true today, when the self-described "Technoking" of Tesla has inserted himself into government in order to steer tens of billions' worth of no-bid contracts to his Beltway Bandit companies:

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/lawmakers-question-musk-influence-over-verizon-faa-contract-2025-02-28/

The American state has always had a cozy relationship with its tech sector, seeing it as a way to project American soft power into every corner of the globe. But Big Tech isn't the only – or the most important – US tech export. Far more important is the invisible web of IP laws that ban reverse-engineering, modding, independent repair, and other activities that defend American tech exports from competitors in its trading partners.

Countries that trade with the US were arm-twisted into enacting laws like the DMCA as a condition of free trade with the USA. These laws were wildly unpopular, and had to be crammed through other countries' legislatures:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/15/radical-extremists/#sex-pest

That's why Europeans who are appalled by Musk's Nazi salute have to confine their protests to being loudly angry at him, selling off their Teslas, and shining lights on Tesla factories:

https://www.malaymail.com/news/money/2025/01/24/heil-tesla-activists-protest-with-light-projection-on-germany-plant-after-musks-nazi-salute-video/164398

Musk is so attention-hungry that all this is as apt to please him as anger him. You know what would really hurt Musk? Jailbreaking every Tesla in Europe so that all its subscription features – which represent the highest-margin line-item on Tesla's balance-sheet – could be unlocked by any local mechanic for €25. That would really kick Musk in the dongle.

The only problem is that in 2001, the US Trade Rep got the EU to pass the EU Copyright Directive, whose Article 6 bans that kind of reverse-engineering. The European Parliament passed that law because doing so guaranteed tariff-free access for EU goods exported to US markets.

Enter Trump, promising a 25% tariff on European exports.

The EU could retaliate here by imposing tit-for-tat tariffs on US exports to the EU, which would make everything Europeans buy from America 25% more expensive. This is a very weird way to punish the USA.

On the other hand, not that Trump has announced that the terms of US free trade deals are optional (for the US, at least), there's no reason not to delete Article 6 of the EUCD, and all the other laws that prevent European companies from jailbreaking iPhones and making their own App Stores (minus Apple's 30% commission), as well as ad-blockers for Facebook and Instagram's apps (which would zero out EU revenue for Meta), and, of course, jailbreaking tools for Xboxes, Teslas, and every make and model of every American car, so European companies could offer service, parts, apps, and add-ons for them.

When Jeff Bezos launched Amazon, his war-cry was "your margin is my opportunity." US tech companies have built up insane margins based on the IP provisions required in the free trade treaties it signed with the rest of the world.

It's time to delete those IP provisions and throw open domestic competition that attacks the margins that created the fortunes of oligarchs who sat behind Trump on the inauguration dais. It's time to bring back the indomitable hacker spirit that the Bill Gateses of the world have been trying to extinguish since the days of the "open letter to hobbyists." The tech sector built a 10 foot high wall around its business, then the US government convinced the rest of the world to ban four-metre ladders. Lift the ban, unleash the ladders, free the world!

In the same way that futuristic sf is really about the present, Picks and Shovels, an sf novel set in the 1980s, is really about this moment.

I'm on tour with the book now – if you're reading this today (Mar 4) and you're in DC, come see me tonight with Matt Stoller at 6:30PM at the Cleveland Park Library:

https://www.loyaltybookstores.com/picksnshovels

And if you're in Richmond, VA, come down to Fountain Bookshop and catch me with Lee Vinsel tomorrow (Mar 5) at 7:30PM:

https://fountainbookstore.com/events/1795820250305

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/04/object-permanence/#picks-and-shovels

[recklessmatt]

no longer - m.s ꕤᡣ𐭩

PAIRING: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

GENRE(S): smut and fluff

SUMMARY: you and matt taking things to another level together despite having no experience (you guys just being dorky ngl)

WARNINGS: smut [virgin!matt, virgin!reader, protected sex, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), pet names, profanities]

when you entered the house the first thing you heard was matt yelling through the walls which causes you to make a face. you come to the realization that he’s most likely playing games with nick and chris. with a sigh, you softly knock on his door alerting him of your arrival. when there was no answer, you opened the door gently peeking your head in. matt turns his head towards his door when he notices movement from his peripheral vision, relaxing once he realizes its just you. “hi baby. i didn’t realize you were here already” matt gives you a smile opening his arms ready to embrace you. you enter his room fully, closing the door behind you and walk up to him wrapping your arms around his neck. he looks up at you from his seat puckering his lips for a kiss. you giggle leaning down giving him a peck. 

“do you wanna pick a movie out to watch while i log off?” matt asks looking up at you with his hands around your waist. you nod and he lets go of your waist allowing you to hop onto his bed grabbing the remote to pick something out to watch. you hear nick and chris complain through matt’s headset about him leaving but matt ignores their complaints shutting down his computer. once it’s all off, he hops into bed getting cozy with you and wrapping his arms around you. you immediately wrap your arm around his torso and your leg on top of his legs while laying on his chest. you press play on the remote and let the movie play.

while about halfway through the movie you feel that matt’s gaze was focused on you rather than the movie. you look up at him immediately catching his eye. “you’re supposed to be watching the movie.” you say. “but you’re so pretty.” he says with smile while caressing your head. this makes you blush and you avert your attention to the screen to avoid his gaze.  “look at me love.” you hear matt say. you turn your head towards him looking him in the eyes. he quickly looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “can i kiss you?” matt says leaning in closer, lips ghosting over each other. “yes” you whisper, and with that, the space between you two closes.

it was slow, soft, and sweet, he wanted to take his time with you, he wanted to savor the feeling. matt deepens the kiss placing his hand against your cheek and jaw, you softly moan into his mouth and he copied you moaning into yours when he feels you place your hand against the back of his neck trying to pull him closer. matt slowly rolls you over so now he is on top while you are underneath him, and he moves his hand down to your waist pressing his fingers onto your exposed skin while he gently bites down on your bottom lip. the action causes you to gasp allowing matt to slide his tongue in. both of your tongues danced around together for a little while until he pulls away. 

matt’s lips find your neck, placing light butterfly kisses all around not leaving a spot on you untouched. you moan lightly once you feel him suck lightly around a specific spot. he lifts his head up,

“do you wanna keep going?” he whispers against your lips. you look into his eyes finding his already staring into yours looking for a sign of hesitation. 

you and matt have been together for a couple months and the farthest you two have gotten was making out. you both talked about your sex lives in the past, and you weren’t interested in having sex with anyone, but that was until you met matt. he made you feel things you’ve never felt before, he always gave you butterflies whenever you two were together. you were nervous to tell him that you were a virgin, but when he told you he was also a virgin. you weren’t gonna lie you were shocked when he told you, but it did make you feel a little bit better. he never pressured you into doing anything you weren’t ready to do and he always was there for you no matter what. so to say you were nervous was an understatement, but you know you can trust him.

“yes.” you whisper lowly. matt smiles and closes the space between you two. you both move your lips in sync until matt breaks the kiss.

“can i remove this?” he asks tugging on your shirt. you nod lifting your arms up. he sits up slightly to be able to pull your shirt over your head. once your shirt is removed, he also pulls his off tossing both of them to the end of the bed. he looks back at you now noticing you have your arms covering your breasts due to the lack of a bra.

“don’t cover yourself sweetheart, you’re so pretty.” he says gently grabbing your hands slowly prying them away from your body. matt looks down at your body gaping at you. you feel shy under his gaze looking down at your hands in your lap. you then feel matt’s finger lift your chin up.

“you’re so beautiful.” he says kissing you while gently getting on top of you and leaving a trail of kisses down your body getting closer to your heat. matt stopped until he was facing your core.

“is it okay if i try something?” he asks rubbing his thumb against the bone of your hip. you nod in anticipation.

matt tugs at your pants and you help him by lifting up your hips so he can easily remove them. he pulls them off throwing them to the end of the bed where the rest of your clothes were. you feel your heartbeat pump even faster feeling very exposed. you let out a big breath which makes matt look up at you.

“i’m nervous too sweetheart don’t worry. let me know if anything hurts.” matt gives you a lighthearted smile grabbing your hands.

you feel matt lightly kiss your inner thigh getting closer to your core which gets you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“fuck.” he mumbles upon seeing the lace panties covering your core then lifting your legs over his shoulders while he gets comfortable with his face in front of your spread legs. 

he leans in, leaving a soft kiss to your clit through your panties. the action causes you to shudder and let out a whimper. matt smirks pulling your panties to the side and dives into your folds, dragging his tongue from your hole to your clit. your head flopped onto the pillow behind you, while he messily ate you out.

“oh fuck that feels so good.” you moan out. he hummed against your core which made you arch your back feeling the vibrations travel throughout your body. matt was subconsciously grinding into the bed to relieve some of the pressure on his hard cock. he continued to run his tongue across your folds, lapping at it and sucking on your clit leaving you moaning out loud. 

"can i remove these?" matt asks tugging at your panties. all you do is nod and lift up your hips allowing him access.

tossing them to the side he looks up at you from below, “i’m gonna use my fingers okay?” all you can do is nod from the overwhelming pleasure. you feel matt insert a finger and you let out a shaky breath. he pumps his finger in and out slowly being careful trying not to hurt you.

“mmm that feels g-good” you mumble out.

matt inserts another finger into your hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. 

“fuckkk” you moan out as he picks up his pace. 

suddenly you feel his tongue against your clit again feeling the pleasure increase. you felt your stomach tie into knots as you felt his tongue lap at your clit.

“w-wait. i don’t wanna cum yet.” you grab ahold of his wrist, chest rising up and down trying to catch your breath. matt halted his actions, lifting his head up giving you a peck on the lips.

“did you like it?” he asks cheekily. you gave him a look.

“how did you know what to do?” you asked narrowing your eyes at him.

“porn.” he shrugs nonchalantly which causes you to let out a laugh. 

“can i give you a blowjob?” you ask nervously. matt’s eyes widen.

“um-i mean-y-yea” he stutters out taken aback from your question. you let out a giggle seeing his expression. 

he leans back on his bed as you crawl on top of him, leaving a trail of kisses down his body. you hear matt inhale sharply when you reach his stomach. you palm your hand over his hard on slowly rubbing him through his sweats. he lets out a whimper feeling you rub him. you tug at his sweats signaling you need them off and he gladly lifts up his hips to help you. once they’re off along with his underwear, you’re met with his member face to face, you open your jaw in shock not expecting him to be BIG like that. matt notices your facial expression and chuckles.

“what?” he asks. 

“dude, you’re BIG. how is this supposed to fit in me?” you look up at him, and all he does is laugh.

“sorry?” he says.

“yea yea yea” you mumble rolling your eyes which causes him to laugh again. 

you gently grab his member, wrapping your soft hands around it. matt lets out a quiet groan at the feeling. you slowly pump him up and down his shaft carefully trying not to hurt him. matt moans lowly. 

“you okay?” you ask him worried.

“no yea it just feels really good.” he says throwing his head back. 

you continue to pump him when you see precum leaking his tip, you lightly lick at his tip which causes him to shudder. you continue to give kitten licks to his tip, licking up a small stripe, then taking him in your mouth, lips wrapping around the tip of his cock swirling your tongue around.

“fuck baby” he moans out loud. 

you take him down your throat being mindful of your teeth. you flatten your tongue against him, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. you go a little faster when you hear him groan out. you continue to swirl your tongue all around and sucking on him like you’ve been starved. you then start to feel him twitch in your mouth until he pulls you off.

“i didn’t wanna cum yet.” he says while his chest is rising up and down.

“was that good?” you asked sitting up wiping your chin off. 

“um yea, how did you know what to do?” he narrows his eyes at you this time. you smile cheekily.

“porn.” you state giggling and matt lets out a chuckle then leaning in to kiss you.

“you ready my love?” he asks lowly against your lips. you look into his eyes finding nothing but pure love.

“yeah.” you nod sucking in a breath. 

you lean back onto his bed as he grabs a condom from his nightstand drawer. you watch as he unwraps it and places the rubber on his member. he proceeds to get on top of you, spreading your legs and wrapping them around his waist. you grab his biceps as his arms are holding himself up on each side of you. matt looks down at you.

“let me know if it’s too much okay? i’ll stop immediately.” he says holding your cheek. you look up at him nodding. 

matt grabs his shaft with his right hand positioning himself in front of you entrance. his heart was pounding in his chest and his tongue nervously swipes across his bottom lip. he guided his cock inside of you, stretching into your walls ever so slowly. you shut your eyes and bite on your lower lip when you feel a burning sensation. it hurt bad. 

“fuck” you wince out shakily feeling your eyes well up with tears.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.” matt leans his forehead against yours after kissing your tears away. 

you hold his hand tightly as he entwines his fingers with yours, matt continues to push the rest of him into your tight walls and you let out a pained moan as you feel him stretching your insides. you both let out whimpers and moans after feeling matt push into you fully. you both take a deep breath waiting to adjust to each other.

“you doing okay?” he asked breathless wiping your tears away.

you nod. “you can move now.” 

matt rocks his hips into yours, his cock sliding in and out of you in a steady but slow rhythm. you wince as you felt discomfort, but soon enough the uncomfortable feeling faded into pleasure. matt tucked his head into the crook of your neck groaning at the sensation he was feeling. he felt an unimaginable amount of pleasure feeling your tight walls wrap around his cock. 

“matt, more please” you moan out.

“oh fuckkk” matt moans out, picking up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes his bedroom along with the sounds of pleasure escaping both of your guys’ mouths. 

your walls were suffocating his cock with every thrust. you gripped onto matt’s bicep tightly, holding on for dear life. his bottom lip was caught on his teeth as a slick of sweat trails down from his forehead. 

“harder matt” you begged. matt lets out a loud groan, sitting up and gripping onto your waist slamming himself into you at a steady pace. this new angle has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. you both were breathing heavily, heart beating rapidly, bodies on fire.

“oh my you’re so tight around me baby” matt moans out throwing his head back, thrusting into you hard and fast. 

“o-oh just like that, just like that!” you yell out when you feel him hit a particular spot inside that has you arching your back gripping onto the bed sheets. 

matt leans down meeting your lips, sloppily kissing you as he ruts into you. you cup his face as you feel yourself getting closer to your climax. 

“b-babe i’m c-close” you stutter out. 

“m-me too” matt stumbles out leaning against your forehead, his thrusts become sloppy as he feels his peak getting closer. 

with one final hard thrust, matt twitched inside of you letting a string of profanities escape his lips as he feels his cum filling up the condom as you threw your head back as an intense, tingling feeling spread all through your body. desperately clutching at matt as you coated his cock with your cum, your entire body trembling. you both were trying to catch your breath as you rode each other’s high out. you both look at each other with dopey smiles letting out a small giggle. he pecks your lips and slowly pulls out of you, both of you wincing at the contact. 

he plops down next to you, the energy being drained out of both of you. you both are staring at the ceiling in silence as the movie you turned on was finished.

“we’re no longer virgins” he states raising his fist indicating a fist bump. you turn to him and scoff fist bumping him back. 

author's note: omg hi guys i missed you 🥹, this story was in the drafts for a while but i never got around to writing bc i got lazy and i wrote this mad quick so its not my best work oh well i got excited so hopefully you enjoy thank yew very much love you all sexies <3

YOU CAN ALSO SEND IN REQUESTS OR JUST YAP TO ME IN MY INBOX IDGAF im friendly and funny i promise. taglist: @luverboychris @gvf23 @sturniolo-fann @zivall @stonermattsgf @sturniolo-slvt @shadowthesim @mattandchrismakemewett @sturniclo @nmegamett20 @strmbolisworld @sturnsintrouble

REQUEST:

[moonlitshines]

fragile hearts.

bakugo katsuki x f!reader

angst, hurt and comfort. toxic rs (?) happy ending.

aftermath of the screaming competition you’ve had with your boyfriend last night.

Synopsis: You and Bakugo were dating for years already but having a romantic relationship with him doesn’t mean that he’s less meaner to you. Yesterday, he was really tired from training and overworked. When you tried to take care of him, he snapped and said hurtful things for the nth time. This has been happening over and over already.

You were laying down on the bed while scrolling on your phone. Him, on the other hand, is busy with his computer, playing a game and acting unbothered. Both of you refusing to talk to each other.

You heard him sigh to himself. His focus shifts ever so often during his match as he sneaks a glance at you from his peripheral vision. He knows he snapped at you yesterday, but at the same time he was frustrated and tired after having practiced the same move over and over for hours on end. That was no excuse to snap at you, of course, but he’d never admit that. But even while feeling a pang of guilt in his chest, Bakugo keeps his mouth shut and continues to watch his match.

The game comes to a pause and he looks over again at you. The guilt starts to eat at him more as he thinks about what he said to you yesterday. He feels the urge to say something, but his ego and pride holds him back from doing so. He sighs to himself again before deciding to talk to you.

“Hey.”

You didn’t, however, said anything and just keeps scrolling on your phone. That made him want to approach you, thus he sits on the bed right where you are and gives you a sidelong glance. Seeing you scrolling on your phone and looking like you don’t want to talk to him, you heard him sigh to himself again.

“Hey, can we talk?”

You just took a quick glance at him, “About what?”

It’s not like you really don’t know what he wants. He didn’t fail to notice how you respond curtly. He doesn’t know if it’s because you’re still mad at him or not, but he chooses his next words carefully. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s being defensive towards you.

“I want to talk about yesterday… because I know I got a little heated and… said some things I shouldn’t have said to you.”

He keeps his eyes on you, trying to read your expression to gauge what you’re thinking. He is honestly pretty worried that you’d give him a negative response… and quite honestly, that you’d just ignore him and not talk to him at all, which he honestly thinks he deserves but still doesn’t want to happen.

“I just… need to get my head focused and I kinda lost my cool,” he says quietly as he struggles with his words. Bakugo isn’t good with verbal emotions but he really wanted to express himself to you without saying the wrong things.

“It’s fine. I apologize for bothering you, too. Sorry, I’ll let you focus now,” you muttered.

“Is that it?”

You didn’t fail to notice the frustration in his face as he said that. He wasn’t sure if it’s because you’re not even remotely forgiving to him and you’re just going to disregard his attempt at trying to talk to you… or if you’re not interested in talking at all. Either of those two things makes him extremely frustrated as his ego is telling him to just ignore it, but his heart is telling him to keep going.

He furrows his eyebrows and grits his teeth while holding back the urge to get snappy with you. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists… thinking carefully on what to say next.

“No… I don’t… I can’t just…” he pauses and looks at you for a second before he grabs your wrist, “…Don’t just say ‘it’s fine’ and brush it aside.”

He moves closer to you and looks you in the eyes. He is really trying hard to get you to say something more than just ‘it’s fine’ right now. He needs you to say something… anything. He doesn’t like this kind of tension between you two, especially since he is the reason for it.

He tightens his grip on your wrist slightly before continuing to speak. This clearly shows how frustrated, worried, panicked, and guilty he is with the whole situation.

“Please… talk to me. Don’t act like you’re just okay with it because I know you’re not.”

You were looking down, trying to act fine when it really wasn't, “It’s fine, Katsuki. Really,” you said in a low voice so he wouldn't notice your voice shaking.

He scoffs with frustration at you. He hates how you keep just saying the same thing over and over, as if you can’t even be honest with him. This whole situation is really testing his patience.

“No, it’s not fine. You won’t even talk to me!”

He says while gritting his teeth and furrowing his brows. He is trying really hard to not lash out at you, but you’re really pushing his buttons right now.

You scoff and almost rolled your eyes as you heard him. You recalled what exactly he said yesterday when he snapped at you, you were just doing what he wanted and now he’s still gonna snap at you for doing that? Shouldn’t he be happy?

“I’m just not meddling with your business.”

He lets go of your wrist as he leans back and runs his hand through his hair as he tries to rein in his frustration. He is honestly getting to the boiling point at this point because you are not saying what he wants to hear.

“You’re not gonna mess with my business? You’ve always meddled in my business,” he says dryly. He can’t even help but chuckle bitterly at how hypocritical that sounds as he feels the irony of the whole situation.

You didn’t respond. This is what happened last night, too. You know for sure he’s gonna keep going and repeat all the things he already said. Like what always happens.

He scoffs silently to himself as he looks at you, “You’ve always been around me and now all of a sudden you don’t want to meddle with my business?”

You were keeping your head on the ground, trying not to snap because you know it won’t help. And it’s his job, not yours.

“Isn't that what you wanted?”

He furrows his eyebrows as he gives you a perplexed look. He doesn’t know what you’re trying to get at, which is even more infuriating for him.

“What do you mean what I wanted? I never said I wanted you to not meddle with me,” he says in a slightly annoyed tone as he looks at you with a sharp glare.

“Yeah, that’s not what you said last night,“ you replied, getting tired of him acting like it’s not his fault why you’re acting this way.

He scoffs as he looks away, clenching his jaw. He didn’t expect you to bring that up so casually. The memories of what he said last night came rushing into his mind and honestly… he is starting to regret it.

“…That’s not what I meant… you know that.”

“It is pretty much what you meant. There’s no way you didn’t mean it one bit when you brought it up so many times.”

“Can’t you just forget that I said those things?”

Hearing that, you scoff and roll your eyes. Forget it? Just forget everything he said? How can you just forget it when everytime he snaps at you, it was the same thing he says over and over? There’s no way he didn’t mean it, right?

He can hardly reign himself in anymore. The frustration and agitation is getting the better of him. He is clenching his fists so hard now with a murderous glare in his eyes. He looks like he’s about to explode at any second from this whole situation.

“Why are you acting like this? Are you really that petty because I said some shitty things?”

He raises his voice and steps even closer to you, his eyes fixed on your face. At this point, he’s already lost his cool.

He continues, his voice is getting louder and louder as he talks.

“I told you to stop meddling in my business, so what? All of a sudden you’re acting like I told you to piss off and not talk to me anymore?!”

You scoff for the nth time this day, “I’m just minding my own life. Like you told me to.”

His grip on your shoulders tightens as his fingernails dig into your skin, it starts to hurt. The tension in the air is so thick you can cut it with a knife. He’s clenching his jaw so hard it looks like he’s about to gnaw all his teeth at this point from how strained he is because of all this.

“Katsuki.. you’re.. hurting me. Please, let go,” you said weakly, almost whispering. You closed your eyes shut as you felt his grip just tighten even more, you were already feeling his nails digging right on your skin, despite wearing a sleeve.

He just scoffs and lets out a dry, bitter laugh. He tightens his grip on your shoulders even more as he locks you in place. He continues to glare at you as he speaks with a cold and sharp tone.

“Why? You deserve it. If you’re being difficult, you should expect me to be rough back at you,” he said as if he was out of his mind.

“You’re so frustrated you don’t care if you hurt me?” you asked as if you don’t already know the answer, considering how he acts right now and whenever he’s tired and snapping at you.

“Let go, please. You were hurting me verbally.. through words.. just a day ago. And now you're.. doing it.. physically. You don’t even care anymore?” you muttered in a weak tone. You were tired and you can’t take anymore of this anymore.

He furrows his eyebrows and his grip on your shoulders tightens even more. He clearly doesn’t like you bringing that up, but he keeps his cold glare on you as he continues to respond.

“You still deserve it and should’ve seen it coming for you acting like this. After all, I gave you a way out when I told you to forget about it, but you just kept acting so damn cold.”

Your eyes just widened at his response. He’s.. not thinking clearly. I deserve him hurting me physically because I did what he wanted? Because I chose to stay out of his business like he told me to? Was it my fault?

You couldn’t take it anymore. You keep your eyes shut, preparing yourself to ask the question you never thought will cross your mind.

“Katsuki, at this point.. shouldn’t we just.. end this?”

He stops and freezes as he hears that word come from your mouth. He looks at you with his eyes wide as he feels a wave of shock go through his body.

“End this..?”

He says with a disbelieving tone. He can hardly believe the words that just came out of your mouth. With that, he lets go of your shoulder. You put a hand on it, considering how it hurts so much. He was gripping it like he intended to make you bleed.

As he lets go of your shoulders, he steps back, staring at you with a surprised and disbelieving look.

“What do you mean end this? Do you…”

He stops, the words getting stuck in his throat. It’s almost as if his mind can’t even process it.

“Do you mean end our relationship?”

He says, his voice sounding strained. His eyes are locked on your face, searching for any answers to the hundreds of questions swirling in his head right now.

You didn’t say anything, and your silence was his confirmation. He stops and stares at you. He can’t believe what you just said. It feels like someone had just suddenly ripped his heart out from his chest.

“Why…. Why do you want to end this?”

He asks, his voice hoarse and weak. He feels like he’s about to collapse from the wave of disbelief and shock that just hit him.

He steps closer to you and grabs you by the shoulders, looking at you with a desperate look. He just can’t understand what you’re thinking, and is desperately trying to cling onto anything that can salvage this whole situation.

“Can you just… can you explain why…?”

He says, his voice cracking from trying to hold back the emotions in his chest right now. You shut your eyes again. You chose to ignore the pain in his voice because you know how weak you are when it comes to him.

“I tell you what’s wrong, that you hurt me. You mock me and try to make it my fault. This just keeps happening over and over again. You don’t want to change, that’s why it’s happening again and again. It’s tiring,” you finally said, finally saying what you have been holding back out loud.

He falters as he hears you say that. His grip on you loosens as he stares at you, trying to process the words you just said.

“I…. I hurt you? Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

He can’t help but look at you, his expression now looking like a mixture of guilt, regret, and disbelief in himself. All this time, he thought you were just fine and didn’t know that he was hurting you with how he was acting.

You try not to roll your eyes as he asked that, “I did tell you! All you replied was that I deserve it!”

He stays silent at your reply. That’s right. You did tell him. He remembers now that you did, but he got so caught up in his anger that he brushed you off.

“…I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly. He doesn’t know how to make this better anymore, the regret of his actions now weighing heavily on his chest.

He steps even closer to you, his arms now reaching out to wrap around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. He buries his head against your shoulder, his grip on you tight and desperate as he tries to hold back the flood of emotions in his chest right now.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he finally said.

It’s as if he’s at the verge of sobbing right now. He feels so guilty and remorseful for what he’s done to you, and now it’s all crashing down on him at the thought of losing you.

You didn’t do anything as he hugs you, didn’t hug him back. You just let him.

His voice is weak and shaky as he struggles to keep it together. His body is trembling from the mixture of emotions in his chest right now as he continues to hold you tight against him.

“Please… please tell me I can fix this…” He whispers against your shoulder, his voice raw and strained as he clings onto you, desperate to hold on.

He keeps his head buried against your shoulder, his hands gripping the back of your shirt tightly. It’s clear that he is trying his best to rein in his emotions right now, but he is on the verge of breaking down due to the guilt and regret that is crushing his chest right now.

“Please…. I’ll do anything, just don’t… don’t end this,” he practically pleads with you, his voice cracking slightly from his struggle to keep it together.

That was your last straw. You sighed, knees starting to give up. You were weak. Weak when it comes to him. You can’t handle it when he shows his emotions.. his vulnerable side. You’re weak and so hopelessly in love with him.

You didn’t say anything but wrap your arms around him, hugging him back and burying your face against his chest.

The moment you hug him back, he lets out a shaky exhale of relief. It’s at this point that he lets go of the last of his self control, and just breaks down into your embrace.

His whole body trembles as he clings onto you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as he buries his head against your shoulder. His body feels like it’s collapsing at this point as all the emotions in his chest just come out.

His chest is heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his body and mind overcome with an overwhelming tsunami of emotion.

“Please... I’m sorry... I’m so s-sorry...”

He keeps repeating it apologetically as he hugs you even tighter, his hands clenching the back of your shirt. It’s like he’s scared that if he lets go of you, you’ll just disappear and leave him forever.

“I promise... I’ll change. I’ll do anything to be b-better for you... Please, j-just.. don’t... leave me....”

It was your first time hearing him talk like that, admitting that it was his fault, and that he will change. For you. It was the first time you see him act like this. He was scared to lose you. So scared. And you don’t want to leave him either. Despite all the things that happened and what he did, you can’t help but want to be the one who stays beside him, protect him, take care of him, and love him.

“I’m.. holding you onto that,” you muttered in a soft, weak voice.

He nods vigorously against your shoulder, his arms around you hugging you even tighter. There’s a slight sense of relief in his body now after hearing that you’re not leaving.

“I will... I promise,” he says, his voice shaky and vulnerable as he holds you like he’s holding onto dear life right now. He has no plans of letting you go any time soon.

He takes a deep breath as he continues to hold you tightly in his arms. His body is still trembling slightly as he clings onto you, the whole emotional outburst leaving him feeling weak and vulnerable. He continues to bury his head against your shoulder, not wanting to let go just yet and wanting to stay like this with you for as long as possible.

[catboybiologist]

One of the most interesting facets of the human body is the way our brains sometimes "generate" information. The brain can't stand being unstimulated, so lacking sensory stimuli, it invents or exaggerates stuff on its own.

It's like the blind spot in your eye, which is filled in by the brain. But it manifests in so many other ways too. Think about getting up in the middle of the night, let's say to get a glass of water. It's dark, and silent. So your brain desperately tries to fill in gaps of perception.

As you slide off the bed, you'll swear your ears are picking up the sound of your own footsteps, even if you're stepping lightly and without any kind of footwear. In this case, there's very real senses that your brain is amplifying, and maybe even misinterpreting- the pressure of weight on your feet being "misread" as something different.

The kitchen is a place with so many smell-heavy memories associated with it. As you enter it with your empty cup, olfaction centers in your brain will start going wild trying to create something from nothing to fill in that gap. Usually, the experience of this is a faint, almost metal-tinged scent, kind of what you smell on the metal slide of a hot playground.

Your vision is not exempt from this as well, especially in areas of high contrast. If the interior of your apartment is dark, and there's soft light coming in from nearby windows, your neurons cling to that. At the periphery of your vision, you might start to notice the light "dance" a little. Shadows will blend just a tad as your sensory neurons try to keep up with changing lighting conditions. Sometimes, your brain fills in this "movement" as familiar shapes.

The burble of water coming from the sink is a comparative sensory feast for your brain, and it almost dispels all other "false" inputs.

When the sink is shut off, though, your brain is going into overdrive. It just got what it needed, and it now expects that level of stimulation- so it's gonna start inventing all sorts of things. You might start to see those dancing shadows in areas for smaller contrast now- lights from kitchen clocks, color changes or art on your walls, indicator lights on computers- coalescing into strange, thin humanoid shapes that dispel the moment you look at them. Makes sense though- humans are what we see moving around the most on a day to day basis, and our brains just work on pattern recognition. They fill in what you know, and when you add more information by taking a peek, your brain settles down.

Walking back to your bed, you might notice that the footsteps that once seemed so loud now don't seem loud enough, as if the sound is falling dead before it can carry. The floorboards, which used to make you jump when they creaked, now make no sound. Your brain is slowly normalizing, and doesn't need to fill in those gaps anymore. Hopefully that will help you get back to a restful sleep.

You lie down back in your bed, take a sip of that water, and for a moment look at the room around you. As you slowly fall asleep, the last errant "misfirings" of your brain will come together in more "comprehensive" ways. The dancing shadows from your peripheral vision might start showing up in your direct line of sight. They'll probably look like a figure coming towards you, as those shadows occupy more of your vision. Pattern recognition is a powerful thing!

The last moments before you fall asleep are where your mind is going wild, trying to put together so many different inputs, both real and false. You might feel chills, or even a cold hand on your leg. It'll pull from memory as well. As darkness falls across your vision, the shadows may contort into the face of a loved one you left behind long ago, sitting atop a wiery, inhuman body.

Make sure to get a restful sleep, and ignore these stimuli. Ignore the feeling of breathe in your neck when you close your eyes. Ignore the feeling of your blankets parting as you drift away. Ignore the figure that was formed from those shadows. They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come mo

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least. 

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet. 

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor. 

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows. 

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor. 

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more. 

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating. 

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds. 

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard. 

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly. 

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know. 

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof. 

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

[pockystickupyour]

unfiltered, 18+

nerd!armin x reader, modern college au!

part 1 part 2 inspired by current fanart circulating on tt (yes he has a tongue piercing).

Warnings: Semi-public sex, vaginal sex, f!receiving oral, slight praise kink, switch (soft dom leaning) Armin, fingering, dry humping, breeding kink if you squint, biting, multiple orgasms

—————————————————————————

“Fancy seeing you here,” 

“In the college library by the manga section?” 

You hung your bag on the side of the nearest chair and took a seat. It was high time you sat down to study, actually study. Without mindlessy scrolling every 5 minutes, or turning a study session into an excuse to buy yourself a sweet treat. 

“In the college library on a Friday night. Isn’t there some party that Mikasa and Eren want to drag you out to tonight?”

Armin was splayed out on a yellow bean bag, computer in his lap with a wired earbud in, and a few piles of books on the floor beside him. If it wasn’t for his frantic typing, you’d assume that he was playing some game.

The crisp sound from his keyboard typing continued as he said, “Last time I didn’t really have anywhere else to go since it quite literally was at my house and this place was closed.”

He did pick a good place for peace and quiet. It was closed off enough to block out other people’s murmuring, but not to the point of accidentally being locked in overnight by the librarian.

”Well, I didn’t come to disturb or distract you. I have some catching up to do.” You reached into your bag and pulled out your course literature, way heavier than you remembered, as well as your laptop. 

“I don’t mind,” He said, not bothering to look up from his lap. ”Let me know if you need help with anything.”

His last comment brought you the comfort needed to clear up the momentary uncertainty that had started growing in your chest.

Whenever you sat down with genuine intention to study, it was relatively easy. You struggled with getting into the material, skimming your eyes over stacks, charts and graphs. Though once you were into it, it stuck. Glued to the forefront of your mind which was very much needed since you hadn’t been able to think of anything except how Armin looked under you, or the feeling of his piercing against your skin. 

Moments when you felt incredibly immersed in whatever economic blabber you jotted down, were easily interrupted by thoughts of him anytime he cleared his throat, hinting at the sound of his whimpers, or whenever he laughed and you caught a glimpse of the smooth silver sphere dancing in his mouth from your peripheral.

Of course, Armin appeared unaffected by your presence. He had both earbuds in and didn’t look up at you once or offer any of his candy. 

Despite not liking them because you felt like they could break your teeth, you’d accept any invitation to talk to him.

Your eyes fleeted between him and the stuff in front of you as you tried to come up with something to say. 

Reaching into your bag confirmed your suspicion, giving you incentive to ask, “Hey, you don't happen to have something to drink?”

”Sorry, did you need help?” He removed his earphones completely and half closed his computer. 

You waved your hand dismissively, slightly flustered by his sudden attention. “No, I forgot my water bottle and I was wondering if you had something to drink.” 

“Oh,” He pulled his bookbag into his lap and rummaged through it for a few seconds before pulling out a Gatorade and a half empty bottle of water. “I usually keep energy drinks for Eren but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I opened the water already.”

”It’s fine, I’m not really an energy-drink person,”  He got off the bean bag to hand you your drink of choice, untwisting the cap for you as he approached. 

You took a swig, pretending it had something in it that would ease off the tension in your body. Armin looked at you intently, surprise colouring his face while the mark on his button nose grew pinker. “What?”

”I was expecting you to hover it over your mouth or at least clean the top first,” 

“Why? I thought it was yours,” your brows furrowed in thought as you wondered if you’d interpreted him wrong. 

“It is, I drank half of it.” After holding your eyes he diverted his attention to your notes and laptop.

Clearly he saw something that piqued his interest as he moved behind you to oversee all material. “Is this econ?” 

“Unfortunately,” You placed the bottle down a little past the edge of the table before continuing, “I’m taking it for extra credit.”

“Eren did too. Somehow I ended up doing all of his assignments,” He noticed the video explanation paused on your screen. ”Hey, is that Mr Smith?”

“Sure is,” He moved his hand to click your mousepad but instead managed to knock the bottle over. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do that, wait, I’ll help you clean it up I’ve got tissues with me.” 

“It’s okay I promise,” To your luck, only a small amount of water made it out of the bottle since most of it had been emptied, however it was enough to coat your course literature book and leave wet patches on your clothes. 

Once Armin came back with the napkins he handed you half of them to dry yourself. “I think there’s a section over there with course literature like this one if I remember correctly. We can go and check, hopefully no one’s borrowed it yet,” 

He pointed to the left corner behind your table suggestively. From what you could see, he avoided looking at you as much as possible and made sure to walk ahead when he led you to the new section. 

“It should be here somewhere,” He adjusted his frames and scrunched his face as he tried to read the different labels on the shelves. 

“I thought we established that your glasses are fake,” you teased, waiting for that side of Armin to come out. 

“No, you established that.” He held a serious look while he kept searching, his hair occasionally getting in the way. “I’m far-sighted,” 

“Spend too much time looking at the screen instead of going outside?” 

“Spend too much time talking instead of looking for your book?” There it was. The Armin most people didn’t get to see was out of hiding. ”Looking at screen causes near-sightedness anyway,” 

You would’ve thought of a comeback had your eyes not landed on just what you were looking for. “I think I found it,” 

Armin walked over to you, double checking the cover as if he didn’t trust your word. You bent down to take it out right as Armin said, “Wait no I think it’s this one,” 

He tried to collect a book above and you grazed his front with your backside as you came back up. “Uh, here.” 

“Oh you were right. Thanks,” 

You didn’t say much else afterwards, the library was closing soon anyway and as much as you wanted to recreate what had happened at the party, Armin seemed too embarrassed to even make small talk. 

On the bright side it helped you finish up taking notes quicker and all that was left was to go over the material one last time and possibly watch one last explanation video. 

“What are you even doing over there?” He hadn’t bothered to put his earbuds in this time. 

“Reading manga.” 

“You’re reading manga on your computer while having the actual mangas next to you?” You asked, hopeful that it would keep the conversation going. 

“I like comparing online prints with physical copies. Sometimes they have different translations. These are perfect examples, wanna see?”

You made your way over to the red bean bag next to him, he dragged it closer before you sat down then picked up a volume from his pile. “Ever heard of Death Note?” 

“I know a thing or two,” You familiarised yourself with your new seat, wriggling around until you sat comfortably enough. 

Armin opened a new tab in a sea of old ones on his computer, quickly searching up a jumble of words that took you to images similar to the pages in front of you. Although the art was identical you did notice a difference in what was written in the speech bubbles. 

“There’s more, come I’ll show you,” 

The manga section of the library was more stacked than you thought. You wondered if they came in upon request by students like Armin.

He ran his slender fingers along the spine of different sets as he provided trivia on each of them. It all fell on deaf ears as you could only focus on how good those very same fingers felt inside of you. 

”Do you consider yourself a weeb?”

In an effort to pull your head out of the gutter you tried averting your stare elsewhere and attempted to study whatever series he was talking about.

”I prefer the term Otaku,” He spoke under his breath. 

“I hope you don’t go around telling people that…” At the bottom shelf you saw the manga version of your favourite anime. Kneeling down to get a better look you pulled it out to show Armin. “Wait, I didn't know they had this here!” 

When you gazed up at him he was looking away again, “Hey why do you keep acting weird? Is it because of what happened last time?” You got up so you could speak to him face to face, though he still managed to be above your eye level. 

“No,” the silence was deafening and it was obvious that you were the only ones left. 

”Armin.”

”Okay yes, but not in the way you think.” His ears burned the same way as when you’d noticed his tongue piercing for the first time. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. And then you came in wearing this,” 

He looked down at your cut out top, still having yet to fully dry, and your skirt that was just short enough to tease slivers of skin. “Which was fine until I could see the bra you’re wearing underneath,” 

You looked down at your shirt and noticed that the lace print was showing more than you thought. “I didn’t mean to look. But when you used my bottle like that right before bending over in front of me, as you did just now, I didn’t know how to react.”  

He stared into your eyes for a moment, like he was calculating something in his head simply by looking at you, then started to laugh. “Were you messing with me? Did you do all of that on purpose?”

”Huh?” Your confused look only appeared to amuse him more.

”Were you hoping that I would do this?” He placed a hand where your neck branched out into your shoulder while the other made home above your hip.

“Were you hoping I’d say,” Instead of pulling you closer, he took a step towards you, keeping you steady in his hold.

He hovered above your shoulder, fanning the exposed skin of your back as he spoke into the shell of your ear, tickling it with his piercing. “Please touch me.” 

He pulled himself off and looked at you with a sort of pleading in his eyes, puppy like and nearly causing your heart to burst as he anticipated your answer. “I’ll stop if you don’t tell me to keep going.”

You pulled him back in so that he hovered over your mouth. His eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, once slipping so far down that he possibly caught a glimpse of your cleavage, then asked “Can I kiss you?”

“Been waiting for you to ask,” the words almost didn’t have a chance to fully escape before he closed the gap between you. 

There was a certain urgency, yearning, in the way his lips moved and pulled at your own as he pushed your back against the shelves. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and you felt the cold metal swipe across the top. 

You placed your hands around his neck while one of his slithered its way up your top, running a warm hand across your stomach and chest.     

“Have you thought about me?” He slipped in between pants and candy-flavoured kisses, and you wondered if they were enough of an answer. “I’ve thought about you,” 

The hand above your hip trailed down between your legs and ran fingers softly up and down the plush of your thighs. “About touching you,”

His lips explored the side of your mouth and the edges of your jaw on their way to your throat. You could barely hold on to him as his one hand unclasped your bra while the other rubbed at your underwear.

”About feeling you, so tight around me I could just—“ 

The graze of your fingers caused him to whimper under his breath. Your hands went down his torso and stopped at his pants. He was already hard, making you want to unzip his pants even quicker. 

You tried to bite back your own moans and helped Armin remove your bra by tossing it on the floor beside you. “Armin, please I need you.”

You didn’t know exactly what you were pleading for, but once you’d shimmied out of your underwear, he took ahold of your leg and hooked his arm around it to lift it up. 

So eager and desperate to feel you he rubbed himself against you without having taken off his boxers, and despite his shallow thrusts, the friction was enough to stimulate you. “I swear I could come just like this,” 

You moved your hips in rhythm with his and tried your very best to be quiet, though the sound of the shelf moving was louder than any of you. “Help me take this off” 

A free hand and lifted your shirt up as you raised your hands in the air, gripping the wooden display behind you once it was off. “Shit, you feel so good and I’m not even inside yet,” 

He unhooked your leg and spun you around so that he could hit you from the back, this time without a clothing barrier as he bunched up your skirt. He pushed himself in slow and waited for you to bottom out before thrusting.

He held a hand on your chest, pinching and playing with your sensitive spots as he breathed against your neck. “You don’t mind if I go a little rougher right?” The sweetness in his tone would allow him to do whatever he wanted, be it your call. 

You could barely speak, shaking your head as permission was your only option. His grip on you was only getting tighter, much like your hold on him as he went back in after pulling out. He picked up the pace and your legs started to feel like they couldn’t hold you up much longer. 

Moans and groans morphed into one and it was harder to distinguish between the sounds both of you were making. “I’m gonna need you to be more quiet, okay? I’ll reward you real good for it,”

You nodded and felt his hand cover your mouth with his increasing strokes. He held himself close to the crook of your neck and used your shoulder to bite back sounds of his own. His piercing trailed along and sometimes rested coolly against your skin as his teeth sunk into it.

“Are you getting tired? Turn around for me,” You did as he said and he took each of your legs, one at a time, and wrapped them around his waist. 

“Is that alright? You’re gonna feel it in your stomach,” 

At first it was a little sloppy, but once you figured out a good position, he was back to doing most of the work. Like he’d predicted, you did feel it in your stomach, feel him, big and full. 

You grasped onto him as steadily as you could, while interlocking his lips with yours. Almost as if there was a magnetic pull between them. 

“Armin it feels so good I’m close,” you appreciated that he didn’t change his pace, only kept kissing you as deep as he could.

He playfully bit your lip as he ran a hand along the curvature of your back. You only had to move your hips once to get pushed over the edge. 

“My turn?” Armin’s glasses had begun to fog up, and the droplets on his forehead matched the flush of his chest. Once you’d finished riding out your high, he picked up the pace and thrusted into you in a manner that could grant you another. 

“Want me to fill you up or should I be nice and pull out?” 

Before you could respond he pulled out and this time got equal amounts of fluids on himself and you. It was impossible to deny how the tiny show of his abs looked good, flexed and veins flowing. 

“I can barely see right now,” he rubbed the cotton fabric of his t-shirt against his glasses, pulling them up towards the dim library light to identify any persisting streaks of dirt particles. 

”Nothing new,” 

“You won’t see anything but  stars once I’m done with you,” He said and readied himself to get down on his knees. “Just a little reward,”

He propped your leg over his shoulder and pushed up your skirt. “Can I?”

You nodded your head reluctantly but guided him with a hand tangled in his hair closer towards your center.

He kissed his way forward, pressing fluttery butterfly kisses against the heat of your skin. Before he could start you took a hold of his jaw, pulling his kiss swollen lip down, and admired the sight below you. 

“You’re so handsome and pretty at the same time,” 

The blush on his cheeks was made less visible as the library lights started going out, but you didn’t miss the smile forming on his lips as he placed a hand atop of yours. He gave you another peck, then his warm mouth save the metal ball, worked their way with you. 

Having been close only a few minutes prior, the curl of one finger was enough to have you about to coat the entirety of Armin’s face. “Armin, I'm close again!”

Maybe he didn’t hear, or he was too deep in it to stop, but the euphoric feeling building up at your core was reaching another high. His own moans sent vibrations through you which only helped. 

“Armin I’m—“ 

He removed his face but kept his fingers in, watching you ride them to come down. Feeling accomplished to say the least. “Was that a good reward?”

”The best.” You struggled out. 

“If you really wanna talk about the best, that manga behind you is literal peak!” The last light went out and it dawned on you that you’d overstayed your library welcome. Only a small desk light was lit in one of the privacy rooms in the corner. 

“Are we locked in here now?” Waves of pleasure suddenly turned into nerves of anxiety.

”Nah, sometimes I fill-in here as a part time job so my ID can open and close the entire library. Plus, I have an extra key.”

An exhale of pure relief was your body’s first response, your thoughts took a more curious route. “Does that mean that we have the whole place to ourselves?”

”Pretty much. Wanna go for round two?” 

[wandaslovey]

OK how would this play out? Bunny cuddling with Wanda, but she decides to slip her hand under Wanda's shirt to grab her boob. Then her inner brat takes over and she pinches Wanda's nipple.

bunny leaning against wanda’s side while she works on her laptop on the couch. she has her arms wrapped snuggly around wanda, her face nuzzled into her shoulder.

bunny was feeling particularly needy, wanting her mommy’s attention. she sat as patiently as possible against her, only whining every once in awhile to remind wanda to hurry up with her work.

sometime after the first full hour passed, bunny’s hand began traveling under wanda’s shirt, running her fingers along her soft tummy. she hums to herself, loving the feeling of wanda’s soft skin underneath her fingertips. she traces a line upwards to her ribcage, hoping to capture wanda’s attention—whether it was praise or reprimanding.

when wanda does nothing but purse her lips and maintain her attention on her computer screen, bunny can’t help but feel the urge to get a reaction out of her. each minute that passed was beginning to feel like an eternity. bunny wanted attention, and she wanted it now. with her one track mind, she traces her fingers up even higher, seeking wanda’s left boob which was hanging freely since she wasn’t wearing a bra. she finds her sensitive nipple and pinches it harshly between her thumb and pointer finger.

wanda grunts in surprise, her head whipping in bunny’s direction only to see a poorly contained smug grin on her face.

“parshivets! what do you think you’re doing?” wanda removes bunny’s hand from under her shirt and she shifts to the side, but bunny doesn’t relent just yet under her firm stare. instead, she pushes the laptop off wanda’s lap, quickly straddling her legs.

“want you, mommy.” she states simply, her tone of voice dripping with innocence.

“that is not how you get my attention, little girl.” wanda’s hand slaps the sensitive skin of bunny’s thigh, her body jerking in response. bunny whimpers, unspoken apologies written all over her face though she doesn’t say a word.

“want you…” bunny repeats, softer this time. she’s unable to stop herself as she grinds her hips down onto one of wanda’s thighs to emphasize her point.

wanda hums, glancing down to where bunny’s clothes cunt was rubbing against her bare leg. she looks back up into bunny’s eyes, her hands coming up to her hips to help angle them better so her clit is rubbing directly against her now flexed thigh.

bunny moans, her eyes closed as she feels victorious. she should’ve known better though, because right when she starts to find the perfect rhythm, wanda stills her hips, her thigh relaxing from between her legs.

“i think you need to learn some patience, malyshka.” wanda says dismissively, pushing bunny off her lap and replacing the laptop right where she once was. bunny’s mouth is agape, half surprised and in shock as her mind slowly catches up to what just happened.

wanda grins to herself as she sees bunny’s reaction in her peripheral vision, offering her no other reassurance. after all, a brat like bunny didn’t deserve any attention when she went about demanding it like she did.

[literaila]

cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

*

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air. 

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long. 

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely. 

it's nice. easy. 

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow. 

and you feel that way now when the kids show up. 

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment). 

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them. 

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment. 

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency. 

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something. 

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face. 

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”  

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.” 

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst. 

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.” 

“he’s not sleeping.” 

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.” 

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?” 

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure. 

(you're sure. it's your fault.) 

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?” 

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.” 

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.” 

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.” 

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail. 

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.” 

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad." 

"sad?" 

"i think he's crying." 

megumi snorts. 

you blink at her. "are you serious?" 

she nods, sullenly. 

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler. 

there's really no winning here. 

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him." 

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while. 

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way). 

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care. 

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around. 

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it. 

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him. 

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response. 

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead. 

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair. 

(it's irritatingly soft). 

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying." 

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying." 

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today." 

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different. 

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again. 

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids." 

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks." 

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing. 

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed." 

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says. 

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?" 

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath." 

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty." 

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning." 

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast." 

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me." 

"well, i want to eat. get up." 

"go cook." 

"get up." 

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?" 

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them." 

"i was wrong." 

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile. 

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him. 

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty. 

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together. 

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him. 

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed). 

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?" 

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work." 

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap." 

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth." 

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact." 

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space." 

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back. 

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?" 

"yes." 

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember." 

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers. 

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning. 

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time. 

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick." 

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs." 

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck. 

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you. 

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes. 

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't." 

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies. 

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.  

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby." 

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working." 

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you." 

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there. 

"how are you feeling now, baby?" 

"smushed." 

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard. 

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru. 

"yes," he huffs, again. 

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow. 

work will have to wait. this is much more important. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[reddesires]

A Soldier's Recovery

(II) A Helping Hand

Winter Soldier x Reader

Synopsis: As you fall into a routine of caring for the former brainwashed assassin, you can see the seams that are barely holding him together. It's only a matter of him trusting you enough to give him that helping hand he so desperate wants and needs.

Word Count: 3211

Tags: Winter Soldier!Bucky, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, trauma and slight recovery, mentions of torture, mentions of canon-typical violence, angst, self-destructive behavior, ill mental health, depiction of injury

A/N: I couldn't even tell you where I pulled this from, I've been getting my ass kicked by lack of motivation recently, so pls, forgive me if it's lacking some zest or it's absolute trash lol I tried my best so here's some Soldier content.

Your life became starkly different compared to before your Soldier's appearance. Your old life consisted of long hours of collecting, cleaning and analyzing data in the poor excuse of a corner where you keep your computer setup, the routine almost driving you up a wall as you desperately tried to hold on to your sanity staring at the blue screen.

Your outside life inconsequential where it really counted, you trudged on without much substance to your life, every day life unusually bland and repetitious. Work day in and day out without so much as a companion to keep you company.

However since he's came along and you've gotten used to his quiet presence to the point you no longer tiptoed around him in fear you'd spook him back into a corner, he just may have been the reason you haven't gone mad from the unvarying tasks of your day job, his nearness making up for his lack of speech.

He's in his own way gravitated towards you- Almost as if he was resource guarding you, close with the desire to safeguard the only soul providing for him but faltering as if getting too close would scald his skin, fear clinging to him so tightly he's closed within himself.

Fearfulness shrouds him, a collar that inches into his skin if he so much as turns his neck in an attempt to breathe. Fear shown in the way he became deathly still when there was an unknown sound outside the apartment, his body tensing as if he was prepared for a fight that was bound to happen, it showed in those moments when he was silent but followed you, as if he imprinted on you and he'd somehow lose sight of you if he didn't linger.

He was diligent, his oceanic eyes sharp with an unreadable depth and what you could only describe as trepidation, awaiting the moment you bared your teeth and your hand struck down with resentment against him.

But you'd never.

It's like a gentle ebb, his presence, the weight of his stare profound though not uncomfortable. It's intimate in a way, you do not hide from his gaze as it traces over you, open with full transparency for his sake and peace of mind with hopes that he'll further trust his well being in your capable hands, his recovery taking precedence the more time passes.

He's in no way recovered enough for you to consider him self-sufficient, but he's made progress. Such progress that you can't help the small praises, the words of encouragement falling from your lips subconsciously and despite his lack of a response, the quick flicker of his eyes is enough for you to keep doing so.

And like just like every other day he watches your every move, observing your day-to-day tasks with a close eye as if he's trying to compute it all, almost like he's compartmentalized in his head for later, and you let him, softly speaking to him as you show him what you're doing.

"I think you should eat some fruit, Soldier. Some vitamin C would do you good," you murmur as you cut the fruit with nimble fingers, his body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves. You become a little distracted as you look up for a second as you notice him closer than expected from your peripheral, causing your hand to slip and the knife to nick your finger.

You hiss from the sharp pain, the stinging immediate from the oranges acidic juice seeping into the cut, your thought process is immediately cut short as you feel him urgently pull your hand closer to him and you can't help but feel a prick of guilt needling your heart at the way his brows are harshly furrowed and his lips downturns into a frown.

"вы ранены." His voice is rough and low, speaking quietly as if he weren't allowed to speak at all and you revel in it, his voice causing a smile to pull at your lips in habit but it soon falters "Soldier, I don't understand.." his grip only slightly tightens on your hand, his head lowered to inspect the weeping cut with a keen eye before the word tumbles from his mouth, an accent heavy on his tongue as he sweeps his finger over the cut inspecting your blood coating over his calloused finger.

"Hurt.. you are hurt." He clarified, a shadow casted over his eyes as he met your curious gaze and it sent a shiver down your spine seeing the icy depths of his stormy blues, how much he can express with just those cerulean eyes with no need of words.

But to hear him utter those words was beyond relieving, so far he's only spoken to you in russian and you lacked the proper vocabulary to properly communicate with him, only understanding 'yes' or 'no' and you've come to learn that he addresses you as 'Сиделка' which you were promptly enlightened that it meant 'Carer', a name that you don't mind him calling you as it did feel most fitting considering this whole situation.

You lightly hold onto his wrist, slowly moving over to the sink and turning on the faucet and bringing both of your hands under the running water. "It's just a small cut, Hun. I'm okay," you attempt to soothe him as he watches as the blood swirls down the drain, his grip not loosening as the water runs over his fingers washing away your life essence and his breathing quickens and his grip tightens and in turn, you tighten your hold on his wrist "it's stopped bleeding. No need to worry," You whisper, holding your hand between your bodies allowing him to scan over the wound with his trembling hands and with your free-hand you swiftly open your junk drawer grabbing a bandaid from your stashed box incase of kitchen incidents, placing the bandage over your cut with a kind smile as you softly say "nothing a band aid won't fix, like nothing happened."

There's no remark as he stares at your hand, you swear there's a tension like he wants to say something in return but he seems perplexed as the turbulent thoughts in his head rage on so you decide to bring his attention elsewhere. "Come, why don't you try the oranges? It's healthy for you."

Leading him over with a gentle hand, you'd have to be careful around him, blood is emphatically a trigger for his fragile mind and you'd rather not have him spiral and hinder all the progress you've made so far if it can be helped.

-

You noticed the hesitantance as he stood near your bathroom door, his hand gripping the sill with a force that you've grown to understand more and more the longer you observe him. You can see the anxiety growing in him, his chest slightly heaving with deep breaths and his shoulders square with tension. It was a heartbreaking sight, the simplest of tasks were always met with a daunting uncertainty and a faraway look to his eyes like haunted memories were forcing their way in the forefront of his mind, a glazed over sheen, a barely concealed entryway for all the aching torment and blood stained testaments.

Though he towered over you, you feared he just may crumble into pieces right before your very feet, his edges so serrated it just may pierce into you demanding, raging, begging to be heard and seen and felt.

He tended to avoid the bathroom as much as possible, only using it when he absolutely needed to, and you only assume it's because he feels most vulnerable in there.

"It's okay, it's safe. I'm here." You assure him, your footsteps light as you come to a stop close behind him, his body shivers involuntarily and he clenches his fists to his sides as you step next to him, you swear you can hear the tight clench of his jaw as his teeth grounded together in a poorly hidden strain. You want to reach out to him and soothe your fingers along the side of his face to unclench his tight jaw but you think better of it, he's hanging by a thread resisting whatever destructive thoughts running through his mind.

This was always the hardest part, trying to safely navigate these tumultuous situations not only for him but yourself, words can only get you so far and it brings back that dreaded uneasiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. 'What ifs' ran through your mind, but the croak of his voice pulled you from it, the sting of your teeth biting into your bottom finally registering in "Сиделка..help."

he refuses to meet your stunned gaze, his chin tilted down and his spine erect with tautness, your silence not one of disgust as he automatically assumed but rather in pure disbelief as he has not asked for help out rightly but you soon school your emotions as you nod with an awkwardness that almost causes you to groan in unadulterated humiliation. This poor man is finally asking for the aid he's never asked before, and you freeze, not only embarrassing but more than likely unsettling for him.

"Okay, whatever you need.." You calmly articulate, thanking the stars that your voice didn't give out on you as you step into the bathroom standing to the side with your hands nervously thumbing the hem of your shirt.

Soldier's body doesn't ease as he mechanically follows in after you, the whirring of the plates in his metal arm the second loudest sound aside from his deep breathing. His eyes are glued to the bathtub that seemed so dangerously imposing to him, the sting settling in from his unblinking stare, his bare feet digging into the plush bath rug that adorned your bathroom floor. This isn't where he wanted to be, the impending doom that settled over him at the thought of that bathtub being filled and being forced into the unforgiving freezing temperature of the liquid, the burn of his lungs as merciless hands forcibly pushed his head under.

The walls are closing in around him, and his ears ring loudly as he feels himself slipping away. Your presence is doing little to pull him back from the void that's taking hold on him.

"Soldier." A lifeline. Your voice leading him back into the moment, the softness and lack of thunderous authority attention grabbing, not at all brash and tyrannical. You step within his line of sight, your eyes compelling him to meet your gaze. "Would you like a shower or bath?" Questions, again. What seems to be the bane of his existence, your insistence on asking him questions, of giving him an option. Each and every time, it feels like a trap, a lure to tempt him with the idea that he's permitted to make a choice.

No. You're his Carer, his handler. He had no say in this matter. So why do you insist on this meaningless charade? It's frustrating, and it grates on his mind each and every time.

You nod to yourself, taking his silence as an answer itself. You'd have to make the choice yourself so you settle for the safer option, a shower.

you pull the shower curtain fully back and turn the knob of the shower on, the shower head sputters to life, the water cascading down filling the room with the sound reminiscent to the rainy night you found him. One hand under the shower down, evening out the temperature for a comfortable warmth for him, finally satisfied as it leveled out enough.

You turn toward Soldier immediately, catching the way his throat anxiously contracts and his arms stiffened at the sight of the shower, his intense gaze locked on the raining shower head.

"It's warm. You can see for yourself if you want." He makes no move towards the shower, only a slight nod in acknowledgement before his eyes glaze over, his hands automatically shedding off the clothes adorning him and a small gasp is startled from you as you immediately cover your eyes in attempt of respecting his privacy that he seemed to have no regard for. As the sounds of his shuffling cease you're confused as slightly peek through your fingers, he makes no attempt to climb into the tub, if you didn't know any better it seemed like something was preventing him from stepping over that threshold. The look in his eyes pained and absolutely impotent and you can feel your heart mourn, your breath hitching as you frantically try to put a thought together for your next move.

Not even a moment later, you are stepping into the tub fully clothed under the raining shower head, your hand still shielding over your eyes as you sit down, allowing yourself to be fully saturated.

All is silent as you feel your clothes stick to your skin heavily and you almost begin to wonder if he'll join you in your pathetic attempt of reassuring him it's safe, that you'll endure this shower with him if you have to, your sodden clothes no consequence to that.

All of those thoughts are put to a close and you feel him settle on the other side of the tub, it's a tight fit but the two of you settle in slight fetal position, your knees pulled your chest and though his legs are covering majority of his body now, you still hide your eyes behind your palm.

The warm water settles all around you, enshrouding you in a miniature makeshift waterfall and you can feel the liquid running over your palm and down into your lap, this moment feels surreal and overwhelmingly intimate in a way you don't fully understand.

Though you are fully clothed, you feel exposed and torn about this particular situation. You are sitting in a bathtub with the world's deadliest assassin, who's not completely free from the shackles of his oppressive past, the very same assassin who is sitting nude 2 inches from you.

It's all too bizarre.

His despondency and forlorn presence compels a side of you that you've haven't had much opportunities to meet yourself, a side that forces you to observe more closely, forces you to be selfless in all the ways that count, could it be considered maternal? Or did it run on the fumes of natural human empathy? His pain and suffering inhabited the space like a living breathing existence. It lingered over him, and it stuck to your lungs like a pesky smog that refused to let you breathe in too deeply.

Empathy was a strange thing. Such a humanly emotion that weighed down on you more and more each day as you witnessed the greater extent of just how deep his wounds ran. It sat before you like a state of constant agony. The blood ran, never at a stalemate, remnants of ghosts seeping from the lesions, infected with promises of more to come.

Oh, the torment of being touched with only martyrdom.

Though the grasp on your wrist was nothing of such, firm but docile as he lowered your hand from your eyes, his movement unhurried, but his hand trembled. Unquiet is the best word described for him as he allowed you to look at him, his hand clinging to your wrist as a means to ground the quiver in his nervy fingers. His legs pulled to his chest tightly, his flesh arm wound around the front of his knees redolent of a scared child, his long wet hair sticking to his face as the water sprayed overhead.

The metal ran warm around your wrist, you thought as your eyes ran up the length of his forearm to his bicep, finally landing on the marring of his shoulder. The skin riddled with traces of the touch of his tormentors spread into their metallic creation that took up the place that once made him whole.

That red star is a brand, symbolic in the way that matters to them, a mark to signify that he was theirs. Their soldier, their prized asset.

It made your stomach turn.

"Help. Please." The water blurred your vision as the droplets ran over your lashes, your mouth falling open slightly before you nodded with a small gulp.

He released a breath, his hand falling from your wrist as he pressed his cheek to the top of his knee, his saturated hair falling over his eyes. There it was, that quiet trust, a plea to be cared for sitting right before you and your hands trembled.

you pushed his hair from his eyes, your fingers slicked it back, his arms tightened around his legs, and his cheek pressed closer to knee.

He didn't make a sound as your fingers messaged the shampoo through his knotted tresses, his eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of your ultra careful movements, mindful to not pull or scratch too deep as you worked to wash and relieve his entangled strands.

'All is fine..I'm okay, he's okay. We're okay..'

His blue eyes met yours as he slowly lifted his head without so much of a word, his hand lifted, his thumb soothing out the crease between your brows with a touch that made your heart stutter and your breath to completely come to a stop. There's a haze to his eyes, glossy as if mentally he was in a far-off place.

Your hand consciously grabs the body cloth from your shower rack, generously pouring body wash, making sure to thoroughly rub it until suds produced from the movement. You place it on top of his knee with a shaky smile. Surely he wouldn't want you to wash him yourself..

His gaze strayed from the cloth back to you with a blank stare, and it seemed almost expectant like he truly thought you would take it upon yourself to start the violating process of scrubbing his skin raw, to rid him of all the grime as if it was his sins were inked into him and with enough force they could be cleaned away, just so new ones could replace them.

You simply shake your head, a reserved smile taking over your lips. "I'd need your permission, Soldier. I can't otherwise." You say resolutely. Without his verbal consent, you can't bring yourself to touch him. It felt like a transgression to not just him but yourself to do such a task without his say so.

It feels like he's at a crossroads, stuck between choice and compliance.

His conditioning rages within him, spitting out threats of retribution, the repercussions hanging over his head like a noose awaiting the moment it tightens around his supple neck, the rope biting into his skin with a cruel penance.

But once again, you present him with a choice. One he feels is a trap, a simple word of consent feeling like a death sentence.

The soaked cloth is gentle against the skin of his hand when he lifts it, the soap suds slathering his inner palm as he extends it out towards you, his gaze cautious as you grab the linen from him, his low voice filling the space between you.

"I want your help."

Taglist:

@singularattitudeofasafetypin

@killerwendigo

[tubatwo]

once more to see you - huening kai

summary: where meeting TXT Bank’s new intern makes y/n come up with any excuse to see him

pairing: gn reader x huening kai

genre: fluff; 2.1k words

a/n: I don’t even know what this bank thing is for yet I just saw this pic and immediately had to write. also this is literally not how bank visits go but LMAO. aren’t silly stories just perfect!!! nothing makes sense!!!

working in food service in one of the busiest cities meant that each night would end in tips galore. thankfully, your regular checks were enough to pay the bills, so you usually stuck with depositing cash tips at least once a month.

this was a regular routine that worked for you. walk into TXT Bank, talk to the strict bankteller whose name was apparently taehyun, show your ID, hand money over, boom. done.

but one day, this routine ended up falling apart. you walked in, and instead of taehyun, you were met with the face of the adorable new intern.

kai was deeply focused on the computer in front of him, desperately trying to figure out the client case taehyun showed him earlier. his cat-like manager’s instructions kinda went in one ear and out of the other, so it was crucial to figure things out as soon as possible if he wanted to secure his full-time position. that is, until he noticed your figure approaching with his peripheral vision.

the two of you locked eyes, eyes sparkling as if you each had just spotted an adorable puppy. kai’s cheeks grew red and your ears started to feel hot as you walked closer to him.

“hi, excuse me? i’m here to deposit cash to one of my accounts.” you look down and start to play with the zipper of the bag holding your tips, the eye contact from before making you overwhelmed as your brain practically malfunctions. where the hell is taehyun? and did he have to leave someone so cute in charge?

kai clears his throat before putting on his best customer service voice, “of course! i’d be more than happy to help you, ma’am.”

you look up and see his name tag: ‘KAI HUENING - INTERN’ the word ‘intern’ snapping you out of your temporary trance from before.

“oh um, is this the right desk? i noticed your tag says intern…” the furrow of your brows and confusion all over your face makes it near impossible for kai to hold back his smile as he responds. “no worries! i’m in the midst of receiving a full-time position here. i may be an intern, but i can assure you that i’m approved to work on deposits. we’re just a bit short-staffed at the moment.”

kai’s warm, gentle gaze washes over you, so much that even if he was straight up lying, you wouldn’t even blink an eye. his brown eyes were slightly hidden by the strands of hair falling over his face, which also happened to be decorated with soft moles all around. his mullet-like haircut also complimented his button-up, making him look like the lead singer of an old pop-rock band.

“ma’am?” kai’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, making you flinch a little. “oh, i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

you wave your hands and apologize, “i’m sorry! i suppose i started drifting off a bit. here is everything you need.” you pull your ID and the cash out of your pouch, handing it to the intern and trying to calm your heart after your fingers brush against each other. after everything is finalized, kai hands your ID back to you. “alright, everything is set!”

you look at his nametag once again, “thank you um… kai?, i really appreciate it.” kai’s cheeks grow red again at your voice saying his name so sweetly. he chuckles nervously and scratches his head. “yep, that’s me! well, did you need anything else?”

you try to rack your brain for any possible thing that could extend your stay, but nothing comes to mind. “no, that’s all! thank you again.” you say, slightly disappointed. kai smiles. “it was my pleasure, make sure to visit us again!”

and you did. many times. like waaaay too many times.

after meeting kai, you couldn’t help but want to see him more. your usual monthly trips to the bank turned into weekly, and then almost daily. every time you collected your tips for the night, you made sure to visit the bank again in the morning.

as you visit more frequently, you and kai’s interactions start to become playful, and you become a bit more closer. you both still get shy as you lock eyes, but jokes are often thrown in here and there. kai found himself taking extra time to count your money when you came in, desperate trying to hold onto every second of your presence.

“hey!” you try to hold in your laugh, “as the intern, shouldn’t you be learning to count faster not slower?” you joke. kai’s hearty laugh fills the room before he pretends to look offended. “excuse me? it’s only natural that I get a little distracted when a pretty person enters the room”. his words make your entire body grow warm, and you can’t help but try to shift the focus away from you. “o-oh? I don’t think that line was part of your training.” you giggle.

kai giggles with you before thinking of a rebuttal, “you’re right actually. our handbook specifically says to not flirt with customers... buuut i’ve never been great with remembering the rules.”

“well, if you’re gonna be a bankteller then you should probably start studying before you end up in jail for fraud or something.”

the two of you burst out laughing, failing miserably when it comes to keeping quiet. you let out a few giggles again before you’re left in a comfortable silence. “I guess you got me there, but seriously y/n, i’m happy I can always help you.”

after a few months of visiting kai (and seeing the bank more than your own family), you wake up one day to head over before realizing that you don’t have any tips to deposit. “shit.” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes in frustration. you had the day off yesterday and don’t go back to work until tomorrow. you were left with a completely free day to do whatever you wanted.

any normal person would have taken the chance to relax, maybe get some chores done, even some shopping? but the only thing you cared about was hearing kai’s laugh again. there had to be more reasons to visit the bank, right? yeah! you could come up with something…

after cleaning yourself up and getting ready, you felt slightly embarrassed at how much effort you put into your appearance. were you trying too hard? would kai get the wrong idea and think you were meeting with someone? by the time you had answered your own questions, you were already at the front door of the building. you took a deep breath and headed inside, expecting brown eyes to meet yours again.

well, they did. but they weren’t the ones you were looking for.

“how can I help you?” kang taehyun asks after seeing you walk in. his eyes go back to his computer, and he begins typing something up. you’re so caught off guard that you can’t even come up with a response. you already didn’t know what to come here for, and now that taehyun is in front of you, you feel stupid for even showing up.

“I want to… um…” you trail off, causing taehyun to pause his work and stare at you, waiting for an answer. you look around nervously before quicking spewing out, “open a bank account! yes! I um, want to open a new account.”

taehyun goes back to type some things into his computer. “ID?”

“huh?”

“ID. I need your ID to confirm your identity, ma’am.”

you suddenly realize what you’re doing and awkwardly feel around in your purse, looking for your wallet.

well shit.

“s-sorry, it’s uh… it’s gotta be in here somewhere.” you stall. as taehyun pinches the bridge of his eyebrows, a familiar figure exits from one of the staff rooms.

“hey taehyu-” kai notices you in front of him, a worried look etched across your face as you dig through your bag. taehyun motions kai over, “come watch, kai. you can see how we deal with customers who clearly show up unprepared.”

kai’s voice and the mention of his name immediately make your head shoot up. you look at him embarrassed, desperately wishing you could go back in time to when you were still in your bed. you feel frozen as the two men stare at you, waiting for you to do something.

“hey,” kai reaches out to lightly touch your arm, “are you okay? do you need help?”

you brush him off, not wanting to worry him. “no, i’m okay hyuka, i’m sorry.”

before kai could react to you apologizing to him (for what seemed like no reason), taehyun eyes the two of you suspiciously. “do you two know each other?” he asks. kai looks over and nods before speaking, “yeah, we’re uh… friends…?” he looks over at you with a mix of hope and hesitation in his eyes, not sure if you felt the same way.

“oh!” your eyes widen, “yes! we’re friends. i’m sorry, i’m just so used to running into him here now.”

kai feels relieved hearing you agree, and his heart beats faster at the thought of being somewhat of a constant in your life, even if it’s just to deposit cash into a bank account. he quickly brushes off his thoughts before coming to your defense. “see? everything’s okay. they’re just a regular customer, that’s all. you don’t have to scare them to death.” he jokes.

“no! it’s my fault,” you admit, “I don’t need to do anything actually… I even forgot my ID on the way here, i’m really sorry for bothering you guys.”

kai looks at you confused. he doesn’t know why you keep apologizing, and he really doesn’t know why you showed up if you didn’t have any requests to make. taehyun, however, is able to read between the lines. “i’ll leave the two of you alone.”

kai doesn’t even glance at taehyun as he walks off. his only focus is you and making sure that you’re okay in this moment. “you’re never bothering us, but is something wrong? what’s the matter?”

you let out a deep breath and decide to be brave. you can do it. just tell him. if nothing works out, you can always just deposit in the future through an ATM or something…or maybe get a new bank.

“okay well, this is super embarrassing but I didn’t have a reason to visit today, kai,” you pause, looking him in the eyes, “I just really wanted to see you...” you trail off, feeling even more embarrassed than you did before.

kai laughs softly at this while you continue to ramble, “which technically is a reason! y’know?”, he takes your hands in his, causing your brain to malfunction like the first time you ever saw him.

“did you really come all the way for me? even without needing a deposit?”

you laugh to yourself and how lame the two of you sound, probably something straight out of a nerd fantasy book. “yeah, even without the deposit.” you smile, squeezing his hands lightly. kai blushes and smiles to himself, trying to come up with a joke to mask his sudden shyness. “are you sure it was worth it? i mean, taehyun’s pretty scary.”

you smile and nod your head, “you’re here in front of me, right? i’d say it was pretty worth it.” you and kai both look around the building only to find that there’s no one else here. just the two of you.

you look back at each other, eyes drifting down to each other’s lips as you gravitate closer. before your lips meet, kai whispers.

“can I kiss you?”

you nod and press your lips against his. one of his hands come up to hold your cheek as if it were made of glass, and you allow your arms to wrap around his waist. as the kiss continues, you chuckle, making him pull away, wanting to see your smile once more.

“can I take you on a date? after I get off of work?” he asks, lips suddenly feeling cold after pulling away. “I would love that, kai.” you smile as you hug him. “it’s a date then! I promise i’ll finish work as fast as I can.”

“oh, no you won’t, I need you to focus instead of rushing.” a certain voice interrupts the two of you.

you look over to see taehyun smirking with his arms folded, almost as if he was silently taking credit for getting the two of you together. kai rolls his eyes playfully at taehyun, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t mean it literally!”

taehyun looks over at you with an apologetic look in his eyes. “i’m sorry for my bluntness earlier. it gets pretty stressful around here, but i shouldn’t have taken it out on a regular customer. I don’t know how kai keeps his composure sometimes.”

“I get to see y/n almost every day, how could I not love every second of it?