#Hes pretty much forcing himself into my lap purring for cuddles every time i sit down

[love-fireflysong]

Well just got a call this morning letting me know that my application was approved, so you're girl is officially moving (again 😒) into her new apartment in three weeks!

Now to do all the other moving shit. Like hiring movers and buying boxes so I can pack all my shit up. Again.

God I hate moving so much 😭

[keilemlucent]

So I saw that your requests were open and was wondering if you could do some aftercare with Hawks? Like after a really intense scene and the reader is out of it for awhile so Hawks just patiently helps them come back into reality?

ugh anon, you got me on this one. i truly love a good aftercare fic, and i really love reading fics with bdsm elements!! i combined a bit into here <3 there may be some inaccuracies, but nonetheless, enjoy this little number!! 

word count: ~2.4k

warnings: bdsm scene, a bit of degradation, praise kink, aftercare, fluff, fluff, avian keigo (think ‘best nest’-verse)

scene & stop:

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Keigo had set a brutal pace long ago, as he usually did. Twisting, pulling and pushing you faster than you could fathom or keep track of. You’d stopped trying to make sense of it all when Keigo had hauled you up by your feather-bound wrist, arching your back into a painful curve and stuffing you full of his cock to the point where it was almost difficult to breathe.

You loved every moment of it. 

“Oh baby,” Each rhythmic slap of skin seared across your gooey mind. Keigo’s voice, sweet despite the force of his actions, washed over. “Look at you, always such a good cock sleeve for me when I ask, huh?”

You could only make yourself whine, any answer feeble and small in the back of your throat. Most of your conscious effort was going into bracing your thighs, keeping yourself upright and poised against Keigo’s grip and the feather nearly vibrating on your sore clit. 

His wings beat the air with each thrust, filth slipping from his lips, long-since saturating your psyche. It was nasty, undeniably, all of the words dripping over you in time with Keigo’s harsh breath and bites over your shoulders. 

“Come on, dove, use those pretty lips to tell me how good my cock feels,” Keigo growled against the shell of your ear. “I know they’re more useful when my cock is down your throat, but I guess I’ll settle.”

You swallowed, shuddering a particularly harsh thrust that hit your deepest insides, “I-It feels really good, sir, v-very good.”

“Oh, ‘sir’? How polite.” A laugh colored his tone, mocking and high. You whimpered, lost in the speed of sensations, almost drowning in it if not for Keigo’s constant touch and words. “You really are just a fucked-out, fuck toy, huh?”

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck with just enough pressure to make you go nicely hazier. You were quickly shoved into the bed, back still arched, hands still bound, but this time with your face smushed against the sheets, whimpers and mewls muffled by the silks and satin. All the aches and pretty cruelties went right to your cunt, spent and dripping.

Keigo’s pace turned harsher, faster even still. You drank all of it in, feeling your whines break into cries and sobs as the sheets below you soaked with tears and spittle.

“Awwww, is my needy birdie crying?” Keigo sneered above you, a sharp slap coming down on the flesh of your ass. It stung, burned through you like a divine iron. “That’s cute. Too bad.”

He had warned you he was in a particularly nasty mood-- not that you minded too much. The pain and aches mixed with the hot pleasure over your body, stripping you down to just raw nerves.

You both loved it.

Keigo had to be getting close, the feather circling and lapping at your clit getting more erratic and shaky with the pace of Keigo’s hips. You vaguely recognized it through the fog, a new stream of tears dripping down your cheeks. The bruising of Keigo’s cockhead against your cervix was almost too much, but you held out.

It all ended abruptly.

Keigo dragged your weeping face from the duvet, almost contorting your body with the amount of pressure and strength he was exerting. With a few pointed thrusts, you shuddered and screamed through your last orgasm, a slow rolling thing after so many other ecstasies preceded it. Keigo came moments later, the shuddering of your gooey cunt around his girth undoubtedly pushing him over the edge.

While he’d been keeping your cumming and cumming and cumming for what had to have been hours, he’d been edging himself, saving his load for when you were completely rung out.

Oh, and you were.

You felt his absence more than you felt him inside you. As he pulled out of you, cooling cum dripped along your inner thighs.

And moments later, you were boneless.

You slipped down against the sheets, feathers and hands removed. You were spinning, high, light and floating. It felt a bit too high, consider you couldn’t feel or hear Keigo.

A new wave of sputtering cries got muffled into the sheets.

“Hey, hey, dove, I’m right here,” Keigo’s voice was so soft compared to the grating cruelty from just moments before. Arm loop around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your neck from behind. “I’ve got you, let me hold you.”

You slowly turned, just enough to bury your face in his chest, and nestle into him the best you could. Keigo linked your sticky legs together, pressing a few kisses to your hairline.

“Gimme some taps, dove,” Keigo urged, nosing into your hair and pulling a thin sheet over the two of you.

Your fingers twitched against his clammy back. 

One tap. Two tap. Three tap. Four taps.

Keigo hummed, “Got you, dove. Thank you for showing me. I’m so proud of you.”

The praise crashed over your melted mind like weighted, lavender-smelling blanket, something grounding and soft to safely hold onto.  

Keigo tended to get particularly tender during aftercare, no matter the scene. It soothed both of your mental aches.

“You did so good, dove,” He purred against your ear, all warm and solid like you needed. You squeezed him, a silent ‘thank you, you too’. 

Keigo blanketed you in sweet everythings, little kisses and the most gentle touches he could muster. You kept your face tucked into his chest, the aftershocks of it all making you shiver against him. It felt safest to keep your face hidden from view. 

Though, with each passing moment, you felt yourself floating less and less. 

Keigo, surprisingly, was patient, particularly in moments like these, with you, that required the mutual bearing-of-souls. 

You slowly peered him up him, hardly pulling away much. Despite how clammy and sticky you felt, being near Keigo meant you were safe and okay. 

“There’s my dove,” Keigo beamed down at you, giving you the sweetest, warmest type of smile. He peppered kisses across your face, kissing away the few stray tears that remained. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Especially when you’re all marked-up and sweet for me.”

You rolled your eyes, not ready for any sort of words yet, but you have just enough spunk to nose at his jaw, nipping near his stubble. He’s quick to rub his hands up and down your sides, trading your little teasing for a whole heap of kisses and squeezes.

“I love you, dove, god, you did so well,” Keigo crooned, nearly crushing you against him. “Can I help you out a bit, clean you up a little? We can take a bath after, use one of those bath bombs we got?”

You nodded, tucking into his neck again to speak, voice hoarse and dry, “Please.”

He squeezed you, giving a happy nod. 

Keigo’s feathers fluttered off, a tap running in the nearby bathroom. There was a water bottle, chilled, pressed into your hand, already opened.

You tipped it back, drinking down whatever your dehydrated body would take. Keigo’s hand stayed over your own, keeping the bottle to your lips and then pulling it away, “Little sips, love. Don’t want to hurt your tummy.”

True, your guts were more than rearranged, your insides definitely feeling a bit out of wack. You were sure they’d settle, especially after some more water, time, and a nice bath. Keigo would always treat you to your favorite delivery takeout when you were done with scenes. The thought set you smiling, nuzzling into the side of his neck to show what you felt, even if you couldn’t say it quite yet. 

The water was taken away, placed on a bedside table. Keigo kissed the tip of your nose, “Just give me some taps if you want more.”

You nodded, leaning back into the comfort of his embrace.

Keigo took a soft looking towel from a returning feather, repositioning you to lay as he wanted. It was a bit too exposed, but you kept a solid hold on his shoulders. 

Gently, he wiped away the cum and slick that stickied your thighs. He cooed some praises as he idly talked through the scene as well, his own form of aftercare. You listened the best you could, humming and pressing harder against him to show you’d heard him. 

He knew you well enough to know that that was your best way to show love in such a state.

After cleaning you, Keigo paused, tossing the dirty towel into a hamper, “Would you like to take that bath still?”

You nodded, sitting up, though Keigo was quick to assist your, wings fluttering and settling, tucked into his back. It was clear why he did as you winced, muscles across you body burning hot with new, bright aches.

“Aw, dove, I’ll carry you, ” Keigo cooed in the back of his throat. Quickly sliding and scooping you into his arms. “Don’t strain yourself.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, tucking you against his chest and carrying you to the bathroom.

Setting you down, you lingered around his neck. Lacking that grounding physical was always scary after a scene, especially one that was so long and intense. 

Keigo, ever-observant, caught your hand to squeeze it, “Do you want a feather to hold onto while I set things up, love?”

You nodded, a feather quickly coming to rest on your bare lap. Your own nakedness, the awareness of it, surprised you. 

You looked to Keigo with glassy eyes. He flashed you a sympathetic look, squeezing your shoulders, “Just gotta grab the bath stuff, then you’ll be getting all the cuddling in the world, angel.”

You trust him.

He was as fast as possible, darting into a bathroom drawer, dubbed the ‘aftercare drawer, for a few supplies. As promised, a few colorful, fragrant bath bombs, a bottle of luxury bubblebath (somehow, you had no idea, fused with Keigo’s calming avian pheromones), a bar of warm-smelling, skin-softening soap, along with a few different bottles of massage oil (and, of course, Keigo’s bottle of wing oil if he was in that particularly mushy mood).

Carefully, he brought an armful of supplies back, feathers carrying the rest to the thick rim of the massive soaker tub. It was opulent, pretty marble that might as well have been the size of hot tub. It was made specifically to accommodate Keigo’s wings, long before you were in the picture. Still, the two of you fit well in it, snug together in your precious moments.

You chose one of the bath bombs from the stack, one that you spit rainbows across the bathwater as you unceremoniously plunked it into the tub.

Keigo snorted from the bathtubs edge, checking the temperature with his hand, “Nice toss.”

“Thank you,” Your voice was quiet again, but not as meek. You squeezed Keigo’s feather in between your hands. 

Keigo could, of course, do most of what he needed to with his feathers. But, with you, especially in these softer, slower moments, he wanted to do them on his own, with his own hands.

It was a sweet gesture, all for you.

Keigo dumped in a few healthy gulgs of a bubble bath, foam rising on the top of the water. You watched, mesmerized by the colors and textures. 

So mesmerized, you hardly noticed Keigo leave the room and return, kneeling down in front of you and offering the water-bottle once more.

You stared at for a moment, slowly taking it from his hand, softly speaking once more, “Little sips.”

“Perfect, dove, perfect,” Keigo shined you the sweetest smile as you took a few little sips, the feather from your lap darting to turn off the bathtub’s faucet. His wings were settled against back, desperately need a bit of preening, but still happily twitching and vibrating with Keigo in his own relaxed state.

You set the bottle down, Keigo kneeling in front of you to scan you down, “I don’t see any places where I broke skin, but once we get in, tell me if anything stings, okay?’

You nodded complacently. Keigo, ever-dutiful, cupped your cheeks and gave you a quick smattering of kisses before helping you into the frothy bathwater.

The water was hot, maybe a little too hot, but you didn’t mind. The heat rolled against your aching muscles, soothing you. 

Keigo slipped in the tub behind you, wings extended out and up to avoid the suds. It was the usual routine, Keigo immediately pulling you to his chest, toned thighs framing your own while his arms made their home around your mid section.

You leaned into him, all of you, mind, body and spirit. Cheek against the dew of his chest, you let your eyes go half-lidded, slowly but surely allowing the heat of Keigo’s touch and the comfort of the water around you bring you back to lucidity.

Sometime later, you weren’t sure how long, you finally spoke.

“Love you, Keigo, thank you,” Your voice was still scratchy, overused with tears. It was a bit endearing, apparently, based on the way Keigo chuckled and squeezed your waist.

“Anytime, dove,” Keigo hummed against your ear. He rocked you two slightly, little ripples hitting the sides of the tub. “Do you want a massage after this? I can imagine you’re a little bit sore, huh?”

“‘A little bit’?” You craned your neck to frown at him. “I dunno, Kei’, I think I can confidently say you’ve made good on your promise that I ‘won’t be walking straight for a month’?”

Of course, Keigo had his rougher moods that left you more than sexually wrecked, sore in new, deep places, but he had plenty of softer ones as well. He was adaptable and fickle, and you were happy to ride the waves of his preferences as he harmonized with your own. Sure, that meant that sometimes, you were wordless for an hour or so, needy and burning, but god, you fucking loved it.

Keigo squeezed you, burying his face into your neck, and whispering a few small words, “You okay?

You just had to reassure Keigo, as quietly insecure as he was.

“More than, it was really, really good,” You sighed against him, littering his stubbly jawline with kisses. “You just gotta carry me around a bit. A massage might be in order. I can preen your wings, if you’d like?”

The extended feathers shuddered in a wave as Keigo nodded, any of his own subtle shyness fading as he returned your affections.

You fell into each other, far differently from your recent hours of hot pleasure and pain, satisfied and safe in each others arms. Keigo cooed and hummed a simple melody as you let your pains begin to fade, lulled, safe, and sated.

[sugamamacustard]

Reach So High.

Pairing: Alpha! Nishinoya Yu x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Tendo Satori x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff, So much tooth-rotting fluff.

Request: N/A

Summary: You’re used to the world around you not being kind to the vertically impaired, but you and you’re alpha get through it. 

Warnings:  Cavities. 

Author’s Note:  I am so cold right now. Like shivering.

Requests: Open!

NISHINOYA YU

➵ Yu knew what it was like to have issues reaching stuff on high shelves. 

➵ To fall behind when people Tanaka with longer legs decided you need a “light” jog.

➵ To be used as an arm-rest.

➵ Being mistook for  middle schooler- or worse, an elementary student.

➵ He understands all of these all too well. 

➵ But that does not mean he won’t tease the absolute hell out of you. 

➵ You’re his omega, so of course, he’s going to tease you.

➵ Never in a mean or demeaning way, absolutely not, but more light-hearted ways that make you both laugh.

➵ He would never even dream of hurting you, even for the sake of a joke. That’s not who he is, he worked hard to call you his omega and he doesn’t want to let you go ever. He wants to love you for the rest of your natural born live, and will not do anything to risk you.

➵ But, if you’re both in on the joke? Different story. 

➵ He’s holding your drinks above your head, only giving them back when you reward him with kisses. 

➵ He’s hugging you from behind and resting his head on yours. 

➵ Or teasing you as he reaches shelves to your fingertips barely brush against, his own just barely reaching what you want. 

➵ He’s draping his Karasuno jacket over your shoulders as a way to stake his claim. 

➵ Noya knows he’s not always the most intimidating alpha, so he goes the extra length to make sure everyone knows your his. 

➵ And the fact that your perfectly sized for him?

➵ He refuses to let you go, okay?

➵ He is doing everything in his power to be the perfect boyfriend and alpha.

➵ There are probably times Nishinoya runs himself ragged trying to prove himself. 

➵ When those times come around, you simply have to be patient and explain he doesn’t need to do any sort of fancy things for you to love him.

➵ He’s also hesitant to have you with him during volleyball practices, especially practices when the bleachers-- which are a safe distance away-- are closed and your forced to sit on the teams bench. 

➵ You’re so small and the balls are going so fast. 

➵ He’s seen the aftermath with Hinata one too many times. 

➵ Noya only really lets you watch if you promise to stay near Kiyoko or Coach Ukai, both of whom have fast enough reflexes to protect you if need be.

➵ Even then he’s apprehensive on having you there. But that only pushed him to be a better libero, to save the ball before it gets even close to the sidelines. 

➵ He’s holding his breath whenever a fly serve is too far for him to get to, only for it to hit the wall miles away from you. 

➵ His poor heart. 

➵ He does, however, totally loves if you come to his games.

➵ There you’re in the bleaches, behind nets that protect you and high enough no fly serves can hit you. 

➵ It makes him feel better and he’s always at the top of his game when you’re there.

➵ Everyone knows when you show up because he’s so happy and jumpy.

➵ And, if your wearing his Jersey? Especially if you’re wearing his jersey, he’s just so- He’s in love, is the best way to put it. 

➵ Heart eyes, purring subconsciously, waving to you every time he gets on the court, nearly crying when you wave back, and both you of you shaping your hands into hearts when he’s off the court?

➵ He’s loosing it on the court, constantly pointing you out to his-- and the opposing-- team.

➵ “Hey, look at my omega! Aren’t they adorable?!”

TENDO SATORI

➵ Oh, ho, ho. 

➵ Guess monster could not guess how much he would enjoy this. 

➵ No, I kid, I kid. Tendo is honestly one of the best to have in this situation. 

➵ He knows what it’s like to be teased because of things you can’t control. 

➵ He had the same thing happen to him because of the way he looked. It happened up until he presented as an alpha and  even then he was still called ‘Monster’. 

➵ Part of the reason he first started courting you in the first place was because of your first introduction. 

➵ You were the new manager, surprise surprise-- nothing notable. Shiritorizawa went through managers like candy.

➵ And then Goshiki introduced him. 

➵ “This is Tendo Satori, our ‘guess monster-’” You stopped him. You questioned what made him a monster, puffing through your nose when he offered no reasoning. 

➵ He fell then and there, he swears. Up and down, cross his heart. 

➵ Everything else was pretty much history. 

➵ He formed a friendship with you, solidified how much he cared about you and asked to court you with a hand made blanket for your nest. 

➵ He absolutely adored you and everything you did.

➵ Bring him a fresh bottle of water after practice? He’s a purring mess. Remember to bring one of his jackets for him when he’s running late to class? He’s doing everything you want at your beck and call. Breathe? He’s on one knee. 

➵ And that fact that your so small?

➵ He is smitten. 

➵ You’re so small and he’s so big and your little hand fits so well in his???

➵ Honestly, you’re kind of enigma to him. Like you trust him so much but he’s so tall and you just- like??? Him??? For who he his??? G O D S E N D.

➵ He loves picking you up and holding you to his chest after practices, even just walking you home while your hanging off of him, his arms supporting you by your butt. 

➵ He loves doing it anyway, in fact. Like just holding you on his lap while he sits on the bench waiting to sub back in. When he does stand up he takes you with him, scenting you momentarily before setting you back onto the bench, wrapping his jacket around you and giving you a sweet kiss before going on court.

➵ Yes, he is waving at you until he’s on court and in position. Yes, he is babbling about how cute his omega is to the other team.

➵ “Your lucky your in the presence of my omega with how pathetic of a player you are.”

➵  You can scold him, yeah, but nothing’s gonna change how high of a pedestal he’s put you on.

➵ Literally, nothing else compares to you.

➵  He doesn’t mind having you at practices because he’s literally called the guess monster.

➵ Nothing gets close to you. He’s already blocking stray balls or harsh spikes.

➵  He’s also pulling you away under the pretense that he ‘can’t receive every ball’ when you know that bullshit because he’s literally on the biggest powerhouse school that has ever volleyballed 

➵  But you don’t mind because alpha cuddles, right????

➵  The only person Satori trusts you with for extended periods of time is Ushijima.  

➵  It is quite amusing the looks you get. The two super tall, big boy alphas with this tiny omega, following the omega around like dogs on a leash.

➵ Everyone just watches you drag around these alphas that could crush you between their thighs. 

➵ It absolutely hilarious to you and Satori. 

➵ Tendo is not really one to want you wearing his jersey, he more less just wants you in whatever you want

➵ But if that is his jersey, or his jacket, or a sweatshirt of his, he’s not complaining. Never will. As long as his omega is happy.

[chaoticminhos]

my mate

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: smut, hybrid!au

warnings: none

words: 1.7k

a/n: i know nothing about hybrids/knotting can someone who knows about writing that stuff help me pls djdjdjej (not proofread)

you chuckled as a gorgeous cat hybrid nestled it’s head against your leg, begging for attention. you complied, reaching down to scratch right between his ears.

“aren’t you a pretty kitty?”

you could feel the subtle vibration of his purr against your leg as a response.

“do you have a name, sweet thing?”

now fully snuggled up next to you and having decided that you were his source of attention for the night, the cat hybrid purred his response.

“my name is felix.”

you were taken aback by his deep voice, it was a huge contrast to his soft demeanor and pretty freckles across his face. you continued to stroke his head, noting that he seemed to like when you payed extra attention to his pretty blonde ears.

you hummed, “where’s your master, felix?”

he pouted, “don’t have one.”

ah, so he was part of the cafe. the cafe was a little spot that had recently opened up that allowed people to come get a coffee and a snack while spending time with hybrids who didn’t have a home other than that building. all of the hybrids in the little cafe were up for adoption, but as much as you already adored the kitty in your lap, you already had a hybrid at home.

it’s not that hybrids couldn’t get along or live together. obviously they did fine at the cafe. in fact, when you got your first hybrid, chan, you’d envisioned yourself owning a whole bunch of them. but, just like humans, hybrids have their own personalities, and part of chans just happened to be that he wasn’t good at sharing.

because of his protective behavior towards you, it was hard for chan to make hybrid friends. he did well with many of your human friends, but you wanted him to have friends that understood him, ones that knew about being a hybrid.

that was the very reason you were at the hybrid cafe. you had sent chan out to play with a group of hybrids in an open space in the cafe and with quite some convincing, he’d sulked away from you with his tail between his legs and to the group of playing hybrids.

he was always better behaved towards fellow hybrids when you weren’t near, because without you there, he had no reason to be protective. for that reason, you sat on the other end of the cafe as you watched him interact with his new found friends.

he was with another wolf hybrid and two cats. the wolf has her black hair and he was quite a bit smaller than chan, but as they play fought, you could see that he equaled him in strength. one of the cats, who was desperately tangled in the middle of chan and the other wolf as they played, was taller when he stood. he had pretty blonde hair to match the cat in your lap, but his flowed longer. you couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled free from the playing wolves just in time to be tackled by the other cat, who seemed to have been waiting for someone to pounce on. he had black hair and you were sure that even if you couldn’t see his ears and tail, he would still look strikingly like a cat.

he freed himself from his attacker and looked up to make sure you were still where he had left you. it was a common habit for him, he checked on you often, despite you being the one looking over him.

noticing the unfamiliar hybrid spread across your lap, chan stood and made his way back over to you. interested in where their new friend was going, the three hybrids he had been rough housing with followed him.

you had been paying so close attention to felix that you hadn’t even noticed chans return until you heard a low growl coming from him, immediately causing felix to shoot up and cling to you.

you wrapped a secure arm around felixs waist as he kept close to you for safety.

“chan.” you warned the wolf, his eyes trained straight onto felix. “you’re scaring him.”

taking another step forward, his eyes still locked into felix, he replied, “good.”

“chan, come sit down.” you patted the other side of the couch, the side that didn’t have felix clung to you. “it’s okay.”

he did as you asked, not because he was calming down or okay with some random hybrid being that close to you, but because he knew you wanted him to be better about things like this.

taking that as their cue, the three that had followed him piled in beside you. wolf lay by your feet and the talk, blonde cat snuggled in beside him. the other cat found comfort next to felix right away.

again, their ears perked up at a sound of anger coming from chan, which you quickly shushed.

“and what are your names?”

you were petting the wolf, so he took the option to answer first.

“i’m changbin.”

the cat beside him spoke up next, rubbing his head against your legs in a desperate attempt to get you to divert your hand from changbin to him.

“i’m hyunjin!”

the last unknown hybrid already had a soft purr forming as he cuddled against felix, “my name is minho.”

you felt chan shift beside you and you diverted your attention to him, bringing your arm from around felix to hold him close.

“i didn’t forget about you, puppy.”

it was peaceful like that for a moment- chan seeming to lighten up at the idea of so many others around you, but then a small whine escaped his throat.

“channie?”

he whined again, followed by the same jealous growl that he had when he first saw felix on your lap.

“chan, it’s okay.”

he didn’t respond, instead he turned his head to you and buried it in your shoulder as he continued to whine. he groaned and balled up the fabric of his shirt as if he was struggling to take it off.

as he moved to bury his face into the crook of your neck, you realized the situation. you felt him nip at the skin of your neck and immediately knew you needed to get him out of public.

the four hybrids that had taken to you whined as you shuffled them away and told them you had to leave, but all of them combined was nothing compared to the growls and whines coming from chan.

you stood from the couch and chan pulled you back down, “hurts.”

you pried his hands from your body and forced him to stand with you, leading him out the door and onto the streets. luckily for you, the way home was short, because the whole way there, he was attempting to rid you of your shirt or push you against any surface he caught sight of.

you stuck the key into the lock, trying to ignore chan pressed right against you, it’s obvious hard on pressed into your thigh. you stumbled into the house and quickly locked the door behind you before letting chan have what he had been practically begging for moments before.

“baby,” you began as he lifted your shirt over your head, “didn’t you have a heat last month?”

he nodded, “all of those hybrids trying to scent mark my bitch threw me into another one.”

his choice of words shocked you. he had been so polite and patient the whole way home, why was he suddenly so angry?

“they weren’t scent marking me.” you tilted your head to allow him better access to your neck, “and i’m not your bitch.”

the words made him growl, “then why can i still smell that stupid cat all over you?”

he backed you through the hallway and onto the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the couch.

you didn’t respond to him, instead choosing to help him rid himself of his clothes. he looked like he was going to overheat.

he didn’t waste much time getting into things, immediately stripping you of your remaining clothes and lining himself up with you.

in all honesty, you were proud of him for lasting this long without fucking you senseless. you’d half expected him to rail you against a random alley wall on the walk home.

you moaned as he began to sink into you and he groaned into your ear, “not my bitch, huh? then i’ll make you my bitch.”

without further warning, he buried himself inside of you and began thrusting into you at a relentless pace.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him when he was in heat, you’d been subjected to this treatment countless times before, but it still threw you off every single time.

you nearly screamed as he bit down into your shoulder, a clear way of marking you as his. he knew you liked it, though. and even if you didn’t, he was far too gone to care.

he never let up his pace as he worked his hips against yours, ruthlessly driving you into the couch cushions.

you’d helped him through this enough times to know when he was close. you had to- he wasn’t in any mental state clear enough to tell you himself.

his pace faltered slightly and you brought your hand to your clit, bringing yourself towards an orgasm. he was usually so good about making sure you felt good, but in his heat, it never crossed his mind.

just before you felt the knot in your stomach come undone, another one formed, one just as familiar. you felt a surge of pain shoot through you as he began to knot with you, and it only made the orgasm that much better. it ended long before chan was done with you, but you didn’t mind. you’d known what you had gotten yourself into when you adopted chan.

finally, he eased himself out of you. sense seemed to flow back into his brain as he looked up at you with pouty, sorry eyes.

“i’m sorry. their smells on you just made me so frustrated and-“ he paused, not knowing how to continue.

you stroked his ears, “i know, pup.” you stood, gesturing for him to follow, “how about we go wash their smell off, okay?”

[hnderyx]

Uh may i request YangYang and thigh riding n pet play?

Kitten - Yangyang (Smut)

Yangyang x fem!reader

Includes: thigh riding, pet play, oral on both male and female, typical smut things y'know. Nothing scary.

Please don't read if you're under 18! 🚫 I'm not tryna get sued.

I hope this is alright for you, anon. I tried my best & it's my first smut I've ever posted! Please enjoy.

Yangyang had invited you over for some time together. What you had expected and what you were currently doing were two totally different things.

Sitting and watching your boyfriend game with the other NCT members was not something you really wanted to do on a Friday night. Yet here you were, scrolling through Tumblr and reading smuts about the man in front of you, in hopes that it’d soothe your feeling of neglect. Of course, it only added to the want to have your lover between your legs. The dull ache was proving to be quite the annoyance.

“Yangyang, did you really invite me over just to have me watch you play Overwatch? I thought we were going to cuddle and watch Netflix or something.” His eyes continued to be glued to the screen. You could hear the muffled voices of his group members from the headphones over his ears. “Yangyang..?” You kicked the arm rest of his computer chair. He glanced at you momentarily before muting his mic and removing one of the cups over his ear.

“You alright, y/n?”

“I’d be more alright if you’d pay attention to me. I’ve been here for two hours and you’ve had your eyes focused on your monitor for the whole time. I even brought a gift for you, baby~”

“Just let me do a few more games, y/n. I need to get to Master rank. I’m so close, please.” He turned back to the game and put his headphone cup back over his ear again before clicking the back of it, unmuting the microphone. A sigh fell from your lips as you got off his bed, nearly fuming.

You were going to get the attention you craved, and you’d use your gift to him to do it, too.

Shuffling through the backpack you had placed next to his bed hours before, you pulled out the gift you had mentioned to Yangyang moments before.

-

After changing and admiring yourself in the dorm’s bathroom mirror, you snuck back into Yangyang’s room carefully to not have any of the other sets of eyeballs lay on you that may be around the dorm.

When you find yourself back in your boyfriend’s room, you make your way to his bed. The springs squeak as you get on all four. You make your way to the middle of the bed and sit on your heels, pressing your breasts together as you call Yangyang’s name. His eyes go from his monitor, to you. His eyes explore your body. From the white fluffy cat ears sat upon your head, down to the lace collar tied around your neck with a golden bell, and finally down to the pastel purple lace lingerie. He gulps and turns his attention back to the monitor, covering his mic before he speaks,

“You know if you just give me half an hour I’ll be finished here, right? Just half an hour...”

“You know that I can’t wait that long, Master. I need you now. Right now.” You mewled.

A moment of silence passes in the room, the only sound being the clicking of Yangyang’s mechanical keyboard as he manoeuvres his character to complete the objective.

“Alright, Kitten. If you’re this needy, then come ride my thigh as I finish this round. After this, I’ll be all yours. I promise” he says as he pushes himself away from his desk, holding his arms open. You nod and find your way to his lap, positioning yourself upon his thigh. You begin your gentle motions, rocking your hips. Soft sighs of contempt fall past your lips, the feeling of some type of stimulation lighting up your senses.

“Yangyang hyung, what’s that jingling noise?” Jisung’s voice echoes out of his headset and he halts. You smirk to him as you continue your movements against his thigh.

“It’s just.. The cats! Yeah, we got the cats new collars the other day and they have a bell on them! Louis is all over me right now. He’s so fucking needy for attention..”

The chat goes silent before Lucas speaks up.

“We never got the cats new collars. What are you even talking about, Yang?”

“Yes we did, you moron. We got them off Amazon. You just haven’t seen them yet” Ten’s voice booms through the headphones.

Ah, so someone did catch on.

As soon as the winning banner flashes across the screen, Yangyang exits the game and the Discord call. He takes off his headphones, setting them on his desk before grabbing your ass and guiding your hips at a better pace.

“Look at you, Kitten... You’re so desperate for Master aren’t you? You couldn’t even wait a bit for him to finish his game properly.” He growled, landing a firm smack to your ass. You let out a soft moan.

“I couldn’t wait.. I was reading naughty stories about Master and it got me excited for him..” You rested your head against his shoulder, face flush from embarrassment. “I was fantasizing about him and I feeling good together...”

“Hm, tell me what you read, Kitten. Tell me what you thought about” You sat upright, looking into his chocolate brown eyes. He reached up and played with the golden bell that hung off your collar, scanning your facial features. “Well, go on. Tell Master.”

“I read something about having sex with you while the members were home... they could hear how good you made me feel.” He hummed and gently grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He forced his tongue into your mouth, licking along your tongue. He tasted like mint. His spit was sweet, his tongue warm. Coupled with the movements of your hips against his thigh, you felt the dull burning feeling blossom in your lower stomach. Your mind grew to only focus on that feeling getting stronger and stronger. The kiss grew hungrier, sounds of wet kisses echoing throughout the room. Eventually, your orgasm snapped and you moaned into Yangyang’s lips as you came undone, clenching around nothing. He helped ride you through your orgasm, rocking your hips against his thigh gently.

He pulled back and lifted you by your thighs, plopping you down onto his bed. The springs groaned as he placed himself between your legs, supporting himself by placing his hands on either side of your head. Locking his lips yours again, he softly ground his hips down against your core. A moan erupted from your lips, but it was muffled as his tongue found its way around your mouth. Slipping his right hand down to your thigh, he gives it a squeeze before looping his index finger around the waistband of your panties. You lift your ass off the bed as he pulls them down your legs, leaving your core exposed to him.

“We’re leaving that on.. It looks beautiful.” He points to the bra that accentuated your breasts before leaning down and kissing along the ridge of one of the cups. He carefully moves the padded material aside and takes your nipple into his mouth, sweeping his velvety tongue over the erect nub, sending shivers down your spine. He nibbled your nipple softly before pulling back with a lewd ‘pop’. The way his eyes seemed to explore your hot and bothered form reduced you to jelly.

Yangyang lifted his hoodie over his head, exposing his lean but nicely built body. A small grin made its way to his mouth as he rubbed the outline of his dick through his skinny jeans.

“Don’t you think you should pay Master back for distracting him from his game? You made him disrespect his members, Kitten..” He unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans, along with his boxers, down his legs. He took his length into his hands, pumping it a few times.

“Take Master’s dick down your throat, Kitten.” You positioned yourself, your head dangling off the edge of the bed as he aligned the tip of his dick with your mouth. “Tap my thigh three times if it’s too much. I’ll stop immediately, alright?” You nodded, mumbling a soft ‘yes’.

He pushed his dick into your mouth, slowly. You gagged as he pushed himself in to the hilt, before pulling back and repeating the movement. He started to pick up speed, your attempts at moans only urging him to fuck your mouth faster. Thick spit from the back of your throat coated his length and made its way to your lips, some dripping down your cheeks. Your hand snaked down your body and made its way to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it. Every thrust that he did into your mouth and every gag you produced just aroused you further, the lewd sounds filled the room.

Yangyang’s thrusts became faster, more inconsistent. You knew he was getting close, and you were preparing yourself to take everything that his dick offered you until he pulled out of your mouth. Chest heaving, you looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“I don’t want to finish yet. Get on the bed properly and spread your legs for me, Kitten” You did as you were told as he positioned himself between your legs, face centimetres away from your heat. He moved his hips, grinding into the bed as he spread you open for him. He licked a stripe up your heat before returning his tongue to your entrance and tracing a circle around it, he let out of a soft groan. It wasn’t new to you that your taste sent Yangyang’s taste buds to heaven. He busied himself with his face buried into your pussy, switching between quick licks at your clit with his fingers stimulating your g-spot and tongue fucking you as his fingers swiped over your clit. Loud and desperate moans left your mouth as you knotted your fingers into his hair. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and it was painfully obvious. Looking down at the erotic sight of him pleasuring you, you felt that familiar dull feeling building in your lower stomach and tightened your grip on his midnight locks.

“Master, I’m gonna cum.. Please make me cum.” You whispered, his eyes flicked to meet yours as his tongue slipped out of your heat.

“Cum for me, pretty Kitty” he purred before slipping his long digits into you again, massaging your sensitive walls. His mouth pressed itself around your clit, tongue licking painfully pleasurable circles around your bundle of nerves. Throwing your head back, you let out a nearly painfully loud moan, your contractions squeezing his fingers in a pattern that Yangyang adored feeling. He helped you through your orgasm, manoeuvring his fingers in and out of your heat.

“What a good girl... Cumming hard on Master’s fingers. You’re absolutely precious.” He removed the fingers that were coated in your juices and brought them up to his lips, licking the fluids off of them. Colour found its way to your cheeks. As much as you’ve seen this sight, it still renders you a blushing mess. “Now, it’s time to breed my Kitten, isn’t it? She wants me to cum in her tight pussy, doesn’t she?” You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

He lined himself up with your soaking entrance, pressing a kiss onto your lips as he pushed himself into you. A pathetic moan fell from your lips, only to be eaten up by his mouth A few moments passed as he slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting yours in a kiss that made both your bodies yearn for more. He began to rock his hips against yours, biting onto your lip. You both groan into each other’s mouths as the pleasure sparks through your bodies. The pace of Yangyang’s movements start out slow. His speed picks up as you let out soft meows in place of moans. His hips begin to snap against yours at a rough, erratic pace. Yangyang pulls back from your lips and grabs your legs, placing them over his shoulders to reach places inside you that has your vision hazy. His name flies out of your mouth repeatedly, in a near scream.

His eyes seem to devour your form in front of him. The way your bra pushes your breasts together, the way your face twists in pleasure with every thrust, how your plush lips move whenever you moan his name, all the way down to how nice your beautiful pussy takes his dick. You were truly beautiful. As his thrusts continued, he felt his orgasm building up.

He moulded his lips against yours before mumbling against them, “Master’s going to cum, Kitten. He’s going to fill you up so nicely..”

“P-Please, cum inside me, Master. I need it...” You whisper, reaching for Yangyang’s hand. He threaded his fingers with yours, giving your palm a soft squeeze. His thrusts become messy and uneven as he moans your name, hips thrusting shallowly against yours as he empties himself into you. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his muscles tensing and releasing. Gentle ‘I love you’s are exchanged as he pulls himself out of you. You gasp as you feel his seed run out of you and onto his bedsheets. It’s pleasurably warm and sends goosebumps all over your body. He reaches for his discarded t-shirt and cleans you up, before handing you an oversized sweater and a pair of basketball shorts from his wardrobe. You unclip your bra and remove the cat ears, placing them in your bag before slipping into the clothing that Yangyang had handed you. He slips on his jeans again, buckling his belt. “You thirsty?” He ask as he grabs a shirt from his wardrobe, pulling it on.

“Yeah, just a little..” You reach for his hand as he guides you out of his room and into the shared kitchen of the dorm. Eyes from the living room and some sitting around the dining table all look at you two, before someone speaks up.

“I didn’t know we had three cats” Ten chuckles, taking a sip of his Americano. Both Yangyang and your faces light a deep shade of red. “You may want to take that off, by the way, y/n..” he motions to something around his neck, It finally clicks to you and your hands fly up around your neck to feel the lace collar still decorating it. You quickly untie it before shoving it into the kangaroo pouch of your hoodie.

“We have three cats? Since when?” Asks Lucas, oblivious to what the sentence really meant.

[blushing-starker]

don't expect that line I previously mentioned because I'm chaotic and forgot about @starkerfestivals amazing omegaverse week since it goes hand in hand with finals and my brain only fit one of these events in my mental planner

Today's theme is heat/rut and it's slightly nff, has some sexual teasing but nothing too explicit. I'd rate this teen, is all I'm saying. I apologize for any writing mistakes, I'm finishing this at 11pm before collapsing in my bed.

Tagging @vaguekiwi cuz I mentioned this to her today

Needy little alpha

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

Tony wakes up to a purring alpha throwing himself on top of his defenseless body with the force of a freight train driven by a drunk man on drugs. Peter's been told a thousand times before how yes, he may be as heavy as a goddamn feather, but it still aches when that super strength plops down and refuses to let the victim's lungs function adequately. But his boyfriend is a sadist who loves cuddles and making Tony suffer.

"No."

"You love my cuddles," it's true, they bring him pain and purple bruises everywhere but there's nothing quite as soothing as a content alpha kneading like a kitten at his chest, " and you know it. "

"Uh, that's false. Never said I love cuddles. I tolerate your octopus habits, there's a difference." Peter leans back with a pout and teary eyes, wobbles that God forsaken bottom lip like he always does whenever Tony denies the kid something and presents a challenge.

Nimble fingers slide up into, unfortunately, silver hair and nonononono that's unfair. He snarls, tries to infuse the air with as many displeased pheromones as possible so Peter can take a hint when nails scratch right above his nape and Tony's done. Unravels at this hobgoblin's feet and he's half way sure his soul goes out in a huff as little circles are pressed into the exact spot that causes him so much neck pain.

Peter unashamedly preens when Tony melts into their bed and starts pawing at him for more cuddles. "Say you love my cuddles and I won't leave the bed for an hour. Throw in a kiss and I'll rub your back."

He hates(loves) this kid. Hates(loves) how he sing songs as soon as the situation doesn't favour the actually responsible adult in the relationship. Hates(loves) the way Peter never misses the places that leave him sinking into fluffy pillows. Hates how, oh that's nice.

There are tiny kisses littered on a chest glowing blue, small indentations from teasing lips pressed into spread arms and cold hands.

"Ruts gotten you needy, huh, little alpha?" Not that this one was any different from all the other ruts they've shared since dating. Tony secretly adores Peter like this, extra affectionate the minute his shyness and fear of outside criticism is washed away, replaced with the need to shower his omega in love and attention. Yes, Peter has his heart 365 days of the year. Yes, he'd die for his tiny spiderling no matter what.

But this is just really nice, ok? Previous lovers were rarely alphas so this ritual of gluing their bodies together when rut came was an added benefit to being with Peter. That and the hormones he let out while happy soothed Tony to no end.

Peter nips at his finger, still a bit too early on for him to accept the nicknames. He blushes though, a pale pink highlighting a face much more lovely than the cherubs painted on the cathedrals of Rome. Jesus, he's whipped and all they've done is cuddle.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I love your cuddles. Cherish them. Want them every day for the rest of my life. But I love you, my needy little alpha with a fantastic," there's a pillow smashed against his face.

"If you say dick, I'm climbing down to wrestle Bucky and I won't let Karen record it for your spank bank. " Oh, that's a low blow.

He relaxes, let's Peter sink into him with a startled yelp, rolls them over, sits on the kid's lap and clamps his knees around a trim waist. Peter may be Spider-Man, but he's Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn't lose in bed.

Well. Not unless he wants to.

"You do that and you can say hello to your toy, the one I know is stashed in your old room under the bed in a comic book box, because that'll be the only thing helping you out when the rut really hits." Will Tony suffer immensely if that happens? Yes. He's a sucker for a needy Peter being ridiculously horny and possessive. Thing is, you don't threaten a man's spank bank. No sir. Everything else is fair play. His carefully organized folders of viewing material are not to be messed with.

Peter's blush is on full blast, spreads over a long neck and absolutely delicious, no. Be strong, Tony.

"You know about the toy?" It's a squeak, normal voice rocketing upwards thanks to the position Tony's ass is in and the knowledge that his secret is out. Which wasn't even a secret to begin with anyway because Tony is in love with the only genius not smart enough to erase his browser history in the lab's computer. Which Tony uses. Routinely. Every day.

"Know about it? I've seen it. You left it out once, all used up on your bed while you were showering. You remember that, don't you? We had sex in the bathroom that day. Bruised my back and everything?"

Peter furrows his brow, works a plush lip and no, look away, Tony, look away. The kid is sin and indulgence and heaven and no.

"Oh. Oh." Whenever he thinks his boy can't go any redder, Peter busts out a new shade of pink.

"Yup. So. I'm pretty sure this is what you wanted in the first place. Maybe it wasn't your intention," he stresses when Peter's already launching up and nearly throwing him off in an attempt to reassure Tony that wasn't his purpose with the cuddles, "but you certainly wouldn't have minded this outcome. And by this outcome I mean my incredible ass on top of that fantastic dick."

Peter tries to suffocate with a pillow held over his face.

"You've got two choices, kid. You threatened the spank bank. The teasing is fine, you know I love when my pretty kitty shows his claws," a hand slaps his arm, makes him grin, " But threatening such an integral part of my mental stability? Wrong move, Queens. You aren't getting any until tonight, not even so much as a French kiss will be given. Unless you let me bite a mark on that amazing neck and don't push me away when I nuzzle you in front of the team. "

Well. Now he's definitely being thrown off of Peter's lap.

He lands on the other side of the bed with a groan, is assaulted by a whining Peter intent on receiving something to further postpone the urge for sex that's sure to hit him soon enough.

An alpha, Tony's learned, will usually be very cuddly and affectionate the first few days of a rut week. Then the possessive, protective side will slowly emerge. Nests of pillows, couch cushions, blankets and favorite pieces of clothing appear on the fourth sunrise. The next morning comes with the need for relief, for intimacy and a marathon of sex that'll leave any supersoldier exhausted by the end of it. The resulting days offer comfort, an aftercare of sorts, where the alpha and their partner show a soft affection similar to the beginning. Nests are utilized and bodies soothed. It lasts, at most, a week and the majority of the population only has to take slightly increased portions of food.

That's for people without the metabolism of four grown men.

Peter needs sex, as much as possible, so the itch for urgent intimacy doesn't result in Tony tackled to the floor of the lab in the middle of an experiment every day of the week. It's like giving him nicotine patches instead of a cigarette.

So now he's whimpering, tugging on Tony's clothes just a little too hard if the ripping sound is any indication.

"...sorry, Tony..."

"It's fine, I've got more. I'm not letting this go though. The teams' seen us fuck against a wall, their opinion and respect, your worth, didn't change. So come on. Just one little mark. One. And Bucky nuzzles Steve and Sam all the time. Hell, Pepper sometimes nuzzles me when I'm stressed out. Please, baby? "

There it was; Tony's secret weapon. Peter blushed like a virgin on a wedding night whenever he used pet names, but the genius knows his boyfriend enjoys the familiarity and subtle intimacy. Felt reassured that they were a romantic couple and not a mentor fucking his protege.

The kid nibbles at his neck, wraps gangly limbs around a body that's always been his to take comfort in. "Just one mark? And light, I mean it, Tony, light nuzzling in front of the team. For today. Then I can get what I want?"

He snorts, can't fully comprehend how the universe paired him up with someone so intent on making Tony's joints ache and creak. "Yeah, we can have sex later, Mr Charming. Subtle as brick, that Spider-Man. Let's go get you cleaned up, make sure that rut has a hard time getting my boy under the weather."

He goes to get up. He leans forward. He cannot, in fact, leave the bed.

Peter bites with a bit more pressure, drops his hips down harder and Jesus Christ, they're never seeing the light of the kitchen if his boyfriend can't wait til it's dark.

"Or..."

"I'm an old man, I need protein before you go jumping tired bones that have to spend two hours updating your suit." Ok, so maybe he's slightly bitter and annoyed at not having enough stamina (or refractory period, for that matter) to keep up with a repressed teenage superhuman. It's not his fault Pepper keeps bringing Krispy Kreme donuts to the office meetings.

It'd be rude not to eat with the others anyway.

"You don't have to do anything." Ah, it's one of those ruts.

Tony softens, smoothes a hand down a back that could hold a plank under a five story building with ease, kisses a heated cheek.

"Needy little alpha." It's his turn to whisper and nuzzle against soft skin.

"Kind, not so little omega?" Tony laughs, presses their lips together so Peter can see what's it like to taste a smile radiating with joy and love. Slowly clicks the button on the nearest nightstand; unless someone is dying , it'll just be the two of them in the room.

(There was an incident once. Groot may have been traumatized by a situation involving superstrength, webs and the Ironette costume Tony only adored when it adorned Peter's body.)

"I do so love my needy little alpha needing me, don't I?"

His boyfriend blinks, grins at Tony as if he's just hung the moon and stars for his spiderling and ok, a little sex early in the morning isn't that bad.

"You love my cuddles too."

"Shut up and kiss me, Queens. I'm not getting any-"

They don't talk about anything too important after that.

----------

A little sex early in the morning actually is that bad when you miss a meeting with the U.N and show up smelling like sex, infatuation and, oddly enough, strawberry.

Rocket doesn't stop teasing for months.

[moonbeambucky]

Ho, Ho, Oh No!

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2312 Warnings: fluff, implied smut

Summary: Plenty of gifts will be exchanged as you and Lance celebrate Christmas but you’re not prepared for a certain surprise

A/N: Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ for beta reading 💕 gif not mine (x)

It’s peaceful in the morning without the sound of an alarm going off, a rare occurrence left for Sunday’s only, when there are no obligations besides dreaming cozily under your comforter. That’s a half lie, there is a very important responsibility to tend to, the one whose paws are swatting at your face, forcing you awake.

“Okay, okay Kip. I’m up.” You rub the sleep out of your eyes, tempted to roll back over until you see the sweet face of your little tabby begging for food.

Not so reluctantly you sit up, stretching your arms above your head and yawning so loudly you scare the poor cat.

“Sorry buddy, mommy’s tired,” you apologized, whether he could understand you or not.

Staggered footsteps take you to the kitchen where you open up a can of cat food. Kip weaves through your legs in a delicate dance you’ve learned to be aware of as he eagerly awaits his breakfast.

It’s not like he was starving by any means, dry food still sits in his other bowl but he wants the good stuff. His face is in the bowl before you set it on the ground, and you ignore the way your own body cracks as you stand up again. You need a massage and honestly you can’t wait until your other half gets home so you could have one.

Lance was due back today after traveling with the gymnastics team he coached and you missed him like crazy. Facetiming was just not the same although he made a point to do it every day he was gone.

You had been dating for a year and a half, living together for just a few months now and life was practically perfect. You fell in love with him and his rescue cat, and when you found out Lance named him after a gymnastics move your heart filled with even more affection for the suave athlete that was really a secret dork.

The warmth of the shower relieved your aching muscles and smelling the container of Lance’s body wash eased your mind knowing he would be home soon. He had been gone for too long and you had a plan in mind to welcome him back.

A few hours later Lance walked through the door, bright blue eyes standing out against wind bitten cheeks, bundled up in a heavy coat littered with melting flurries.

“Y/N?” he called out, taking off his coat and hanging it in the front closet.

Kip greeted Lance with a hearty meow as he was bent over to take off his boots. He lifted the cat in his arms, scratching his ears as Kip purred under Lance’s touch.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked Kip who rubbed the top of his head against Lance’s face.

Lance placed Kip on the floor and he grabbed his suitcase, as he headed for the bedroom he wondered where you could be. Your car was in the driveway but there was a chance you had gone out, although after a long trip there was nothing more that Lance wanted than to cuddle up next to you.

As he entered the bedroom Lance froze in place, more than surprised to find you on your knees in the middle of the bed, wearing red baby doll lingerie with white marabou trim. The Santa hat you wore flopped to the side when you tilted your head to greet him. Feeling himself twitch in his pants he instantly thought of another thing he could possibly want to do with you.

“Welcome home baby,” you cooed, a coy smile pulling at your lips as you seductively licked the candy cane in your hand.

“Is it Christmas already?” he asked, his weight dipping the mattress as he crawled towards you, laying you back on the bed and nudging your legs apart with his own.

You traced the candy cane along his lips, watching as the blue of his eyes retreated to a thin line as he sucked on the minty treat, humming sinfully.

“Only for naughty boys like you.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, tingling with sweet peppermint kisses that lingered on every part of your skin. That night Kip waited just a little bit longer for his dinner.

It was hard to focus on the task at hand, with Lance on the floor shifting the base of the Christmas tree you just brought home. His ass looked amazing in those sweatpants, so beautifully plump you couldn’t help but stare.

“Stop, it’s perfect!” you beamed, shifting your gaze back to the tree once it was centered in front of the window.

Lance pushed himself up and you took his hand, pulling him into an embrace. Leaning your head against him, you inhaled his intoxicating scent that combined warm cinnamon and light citrus. Every cell in your body loved Lance Tucker more than the last. You couldn’t believe you had met this amazing man, who was so unlike all the rumors said about him.

Lance was a tough trainer but never mean. He pushed his students to work hard but he could easily see when they needed a break. He was preparing them not only physically but mentally to be able to handle all that comes with competition.

It was after the Olympics Lance’s own reputation became slightly tarnished but he recovered and was thankful above all that you gave him a chance.

You tilted your head towards him and Lance felt the simmer of your passionate gaze. Your lips found his, soft and sweet, and you felt him smile against you.

“Sweetheart, we can move this to the bedroom if you want…”

His tongue swept across his lips and he raised his brow looking for your answer. You smiled, pecking his lips with yours knowing that as much as you wanted to continue this right now was the only time you had to put up decorations. Work had become increasingly busy and it was rare if you found yourself home on time. It was now or never if you wanted to decorate with Christmas being only a few weeks away.

“How about we decorate this tree and then… hop in the shower together?”

He detached himself from your embrace with comic speed, rushing over to the boxes that held ornaments, garland and all of your other decorations, frantically pulling off the lids in a hurry to get them up.

“Lance!” you whined playfully, “Come on. I don’t want to rush this. This is the first Christmas we’ll be celebrating in our place together and I want everything to be perfect.”

He set down the tangled cord of string lights to lift your chin, “Are you worried about the decorations or that your parents are coming to meet me?”

You sighed, unable to help the smile on your face because Lance knew you too well. You were very nervous about your parents coming for the holidays. They were eager to meet the man that stole your heart and every second leading up to their arrival date has added to your anxiety.

There was nothing to worry about, you knew this. They would easily see how kind and charming Lance is, but still in the back of your mind was this nagging voice that persisted, convincing you that everything had to be perfect. A gorgeously decorated tree, stockings hung just right above the fireplace, tinsel, wreaths and Lance’s favorite, the mistletoe.

Lance could see your mind was running like a hamster on a wheel, and all that spinning was making you even more panicked. Your name fell softly from his lips and you snapped out of your thoughts, finding peace in his calming irises, an ocean blue gaze that lapped like waves against the sand, washing away your worries.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His lips pressed a kiss softly to your forehead and Lance cupped your cheeks as you stared back at him.

You were trying desperately to believe him, forcing your fears aside. “I know they’ll love you because I love you.” Lance grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. It was a quick kiss because of course your worries couldn’t stay away for too long.

“But I am worried. They’re predicting a bad storm the week my parents are supposed to come, what if their flight gets cancelled?”

“How many times has the weather been wrong before, huh? Just last week they said we’d have a foot of snow and what did we get? Flurries.”

You nodded your head. “You’re right. I’ll try not to worry.”

Your lips pulled into an innocent smirk and Lance chuckled, shrugging his shoulders because you both knew you would still be worrying about this. Not that he minded, because any time you needed reassurance he would be right there to hold you close until all your worries dissipated.  

Lance smiled as his phone lit up with your text message. It had far better news than the previous one that said you’d be late again. He was used to it, every night in the past week you had come home late and exhausted.

Often he had to force you to eat a little something despite you wanting to go straight to bed. Your job was extra stressful in the week leading up to Christmas but soon you’d have time off and he couldn’t wait. Although he was pretty excited by what your message said just now.

You: Hey babe. Finally on my way, hopefully not too much traffic but I can’t wait to see you soon… I have a surprise 😘

It was the kissing emoji on the end that really made him smile. The last time you had a surprise for him he found you wearing very sexy holiday lingerie. He questioned for a moment if this surprise might be along the same lines.

All of these late nights were taking a toll on you; sitting too long at work, eyes straining from staring at a screen, your back aching from poor posture. Before bed Lance would rub your shoulders, knead his thumbs into your sore muscles, kissing the aches away as he worked on the knots that littered your back.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the kissing emoji. Maybe work wasn’t so bad today. Maybe you had extra coffee and were able to move around a lot. Maybe you missed him as much as he missed you, wanting those nightly massages to turn into something more.

A smirk pulls deeply across his face as Lance comes up with an idea. He sets the mood, lighting the fireplace, dimming the lights to a glow as the crackling wood begins to drench the room in warmth. The blinds are closed, the tree is lit and Lance rushes to the bedroom to find the perfect sexy outfit to surprise you when you walk through the door. It doesn’t take long before he picks out the perfect one.

Lance stands in the living room, fingers slipping under the Santa hat he’s wearing to scratch his head. He adjusts the hat again, blowing out a nervous breath as he waits in silence.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said to Kip who hopped up onto the nearest table, staring curiously at Lance.

Within a few minutes Lance perked up as he heard the key jingling in the lock. He stood up straighter, adjusting his stance; transforming his giddy smile into a seductive smirk, his eyes falling into a half-lidded, lustful gaze.

“Oh Laaance,” you sang from the door, accompanied by a lot of noise. Perhaps the pulling off of boots and removing your coat, he thought. “Guess who’s– oh my god!”

Your jaw fell open at Lance, standing stark naked in the living room, only wearing a Santa hat with his modesty covered by a stocking. No, worse, it was inside of the stocking. On any other day you this would be a welcome surprise, but not today not as your…

“Don’t look!” you screamed, remembering your parents that were right behind you but it was too late.

You watched as your father spun his head around so quickly he might have given himself whiplash. Your head was buried in your hands as you felt waves of embarrassment wash over you. This was a complete nightmare, one you wished you could wake up from. You regretted not telling Lance about your surprise, that your parents decided to fly in early because the storm that was predicted was definitely happening.

Lifting your head you saw your mother continue to gawk at Lance who had become nearly as red as the stocking he held. His mouth fell open but no words came out; he’s not sure what he would have said any way, not when he wished the floor would open and swallow him up.  

“Mom stop!” You raised your hand to block her view but she was determined to get a good look at the man you were dating. “Lance would you put some clothes on!”

He was snapped out of his frozen state, holding the stocking extra carefully as he shimmied backwards. Lance was too embarrassed and preoccupied to realize Kip had left his previous spot on the table and was trying to weave himself through Lance’s legs.

The unexpected fur against his ankles made Lance gasp and stumble wildly as he tried not to step on Kip, nearly dropping the stocking as he found his footing. Your mother watched the whole thing, getting a perfect view of Lance’s bare backside, his buns jiggling as he was finally able to run into the bedroom to put on clothes.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” she smirked, fanning herself with her hand as she moved towards your father, as you hoped for a true Christmas miracle, that their memories could be wiped.

[inactiive-shit]

Thunder

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

Warnings: referenced sex but nothing actually included

Pairings: Anxceit

Words: 1,526

Summary: Dee doesn’t like thunder, and his boyfriend does, in fact, know that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dee shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. It was freezing, not suitable weather for people to be walking around outside in at all. Sure, maybe it was only fifty degrees, but that was still far too cold for Dee to be wearing anything less than three layers or go outside his house unless it was an emergency.

This wasn’t an emergency, so he really should not have so much as opened his door for it, but now he’s walking down the street at ten o’clock at night like an unruly cat being forced on a leash for the first time in its life. He really, really hates that this is what he’s spending his day off doing, but he’s closer to Virgil’s apartment than his own by now, so there’s no point in turning back either way.

On the other hand, the outside did look pretty today. There was a bright pink flower in full bloom in the window box of a cafe he passed, and there was a beautiful chocolate poodle strutting down the sidewalk. The trees didn’t have any leaves left, but they still looked sort of ethereal against the stormy, pregnant gray of the sky.

It wasn’t raining yet, and if any god out there had any good sense, it wouldn’t start before Dee got inside. He was not ashamed to admit he was not above fighting a god or two.

Ten minutes later found Dee knocking on Virgil’s door. While he did have a key, if he was forced to walk all the way to Virgil’s house for something, then Virgil could very well walk all the way over to the door to let him in. It was only fair.

The door swung open just as a bolt of thunder cracked outside, causing Dee to jump. Virgil loomed, smirking, in the doorway. He didn’t bother with a greeting, just stepped back to let Dee bolt in and jerk his curtains shut.

“What the hell was such an emergency that I had to come over here in the middle of a goddamn storm!”

“Chill, it’s not the middle. It’s only just starting. Besides, you oughta be outta here before it gets too bad.” Virgil shrugged nonchalantly and crossed to the kitchen.

“Only just-be out of-no! I am absolutely not leaving until the rain quits!” Dee angrily chased Virgil to the kitchen, taking the steaming mug out of his hand before he could so much as bring it to his lips. “You owe me this.”

“Whatever,” Virgil snorted, picking up a second and equally steamy mug to drink from. Dee wanted smack that one out of his hands, just to be petty because Virgil had obviously planned for that to happen. Instead, Dee curled around his cup as best he could and took a sip. Slightly bitter hot chocolate. God, it wasn’t even the flavor that Virgil liked; it was Dee’s favorite.

“Why did you need me over here?” he sighed. Virgil motioned toward his couch.

“Go sit down. I’ll be right back.” Dee left the kitchen with a small shove from Virgil and threw himself down on the couch, his hot chocolate nearly flipping over the side of the mug. It’s not like Virgil would notice another stain on his couch, not after what had happened on it last time Dee was over.

Virgil came back into the room, throwing a screeching black ball onto Dee’s lap and actually causing his drink to spill.

“Thanks,” Dee hissed, juggling the now quiet ball and his mug.

“She wouldn’t quit screaming for the last two hours, but you always make her quiet down.” Virgil shrugged and flopped down beside Dee. “I think she can sense when it’s going to rain.”

“She’s your hell beast, why don’t you ever learn how to love her right?” Dee ran his hand over her head eliciting a deep, rumbling purr. She stretched languidly, claws digging past Dee’s pant legs and just barely scratching his skin before she curled back up and looked up at him with her big green eyes. Entirely too trusting and entirely too evil.

“She’s more your cat than mine, anyway,” Virgil said. He slung an arm up to the back of the couch but kept to his own end. Dee took a sip of his drink while Toothless stared right up at him, totally adoring in a way most people thought was reserved for dogs. It may have been less loud, but it was no less meaningful.

“That is because you don’t treat her right, isn’t that right, baby?” Dee asked, scratching her chin. Toothless tilted her head back to allow it, and Dee felt his lips pulling up against his will. It wasn’t his fault that cat was so damn perfect.

“Sure,” Virgil muttered into his cup, and Dee would have demanded to know what he meant by that except right then a huge bolt of lightning lit up the curtains and barely any time after that the thunder came roaring through. Dee was too dignified to say he screeched, but that’s certainly the sound the cat made before arching her back and hissing at the window.

“You really are the pair,” Virgil said, running his hand over Toothless and then Dee, and getting hit by them both for it. “Fuckin’ halloween cats.”

“Fuck off,” Dee grumbled, petting Toothless to calm them both down and trying to ignore that he had managed to pull his legs onto the couch and ball himself around his little cat. Virgil snorted again and began scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Come here,” he said suddenly. Dee glanced at him, arms extended and beckoning, and shook his head. “Oh, get over here.” Virgil snatched Dee’s empty mug and dropped it toward the carpet. Then he used his unfair strength to pull Dee across the couch so that he was laying on top of Virgil. “Put these on,” Virgil said, shoving headphones at him.

“Why?” Dee said suspiciously.

“So that you can’t hear the thunder, jackass.”

“But what about our little cat?” objected Dee despite really wanting to pull the headphones on and pretend the outside world didn’t exist for a while.

“Ugh, fine,” Virgil said, dropping the headphones on the floor. A few seconds later and loud music was blaring out of Virgil’s speakers.

“You’re going to get a noise complaint from the neighbors,” Dee said. “Again.”

“Worthy cause. And it isn’t like I haven’t had to report them for three days straight of only blasting Taylor Swift and Seether.” Dee shuddered at even the thought of that. “I’m pretty sure they prefer this to the other kinds of noise we’ve made before, though.” Dee didn’t have much to say to that.

“What are you doing?” he asked when Virgil wrapped his arms around him.

“Could we cuddle, like, platonically?” Virgil said. He didn’t seem like he was going to let go, or like he was asking a question.

“What’s platonic about cuddling your boyfriend?” Dee demanded.

“Oh, so that’s what we are now?” Dee could hear the deadpan expression on his face.

“Well, I think we’re past fuck buddies.” Virgil snorted at that. They stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying the silence and the music and the little purring cat ball that made its home on top of them. Dee could get used to this. Comfort and cats and - and he didn’t want to jinx it, not yet, but something bigger than like. He really, really could one day get used to this sort of set up. Shitty apartment with a person he more than liked and their cat child. An ideal existence.

“You know, eventually you’re going to have to ask for your own sexless cuddles,” Virgil breathed into the back of Dee’s neck.

“Yeah, right,” Dee said.

“Eh, still better than last time. You told me to cuddle your dick. And while I would still be happy to do that, we both know that that is not the only kind of touching you like.” Dee grumbled wordlessly at Virgil. “Sex is an unhealthy coping mechanism, Dee. You should ask to cuddle with Logan without the sex. He’ll acquiesce, but he’s still awkward as fuck so you won’t feel like he knows what he’s doing and you don’t. Plus, he’ll also try to tell you every fact in the known universe because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s pretty settling.”

“You say it like you know him or something,” Dee muttered.

“Nah, he’s only been my best friend since sixth grade. I don’t know shite about him.” Virgil pulled Dee a little more against him. “Night, cutie pie.”

“Night, sugar. I like you.”

“Like you more.”

“Like you most,” Dee said, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it wasn’t quite the bigger word yet, but it was certainly getting there and one day, Dee would tell Virgil that he l-ed him. But until then, they’d like each other enough for the moon and the stars.

Virgil pressed a kiss against the back of Dee’s neck and Dee fell asleep without having to hear the thunder.

[kasplode]

Love.

Fandom: Steven Universe

Words: 1,700

Summary:

Steven with his family, in the days following his break down.

(Set after Steven Universe Future Episode 19, ‘I Am My Monster’)

—

Hey, you, show me that solvable problem

We can get through this

I'll do the hardest part with you

[READ ON AO3]

Steven is exhausted.

For the first time in several days, he’s actually alone. He’s sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window at the beach and the horizon beyond. He’d been playing games with Amethyst all morning, and now she’s left the house for her class at Little Homeschool. It’s nice to finally have a moment of quiet.

The Diamonds and Spinel went back to Homeworld a few days ago, at the insistence of Steven and the gems. He appreciates that they care, but Spinel was right, back then. Sometimes you need to not see someone for a while.

The rest his family have been all but smothering him in love. It seems that every moment of every day, there’s at least one aggressively loving person by his side; be it Dad, Connie, Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst, Bismuth, Peridot or Lapis.

‘That’s so many,’ Steven can’t help but think, sometimes. ‘So many people here. So many people I love, who love me. How did I ever feel so alone?’

But smothered as he is, it feels like he’s never been able to breathe quite so easily.

They’ve kept him busy, made sure he doesn’t do too much.

/-/

The day after his breakdown, Steven forces his tired body out of bed, where Connie is curled up beside him, passed Pearl, who has apparently taken up the whole ‘watching him while he sleeps’ thing again, and downstairs to make himself breakfast.

“Good morning Steven,” Pearl greets him, following him downstairs. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m-” Steven stops before he can say ‘fine’ and stares at the kitchen counter for a moment. Saying that will never be the same again, he thinks.

“I’m tired. I feel better than yesterday, though,” he says.

It’s true. Every move he makes is weighed down as if gravity is pulling at him harder than usual, trying to push him into the ground. But still, he can stand, and his emotions seem to have finally settled after the riotous rollercoaster of the past few days.

Pearl claps, rewarding his improved mood with a smile. A spark of happiness lights in Steven, but.

How long has it been since he’s made one of the gems smile? How long has it been since he’s even seen them smile, without sadness there to corru- ruin it?

Steven turns back to the counter. He’s so tired, but it’s no good if he goes back to bed now. He needs to get something in him, and with his current lack of energy, that ‘something’ may as well be a protein shake.

“Oh, Steven,” Pearl says, when Steven grabs the protein powder, “you need something with more substance than that to keep your strength up! I wanted to make breakfast for you and Connie.” She glances at the couch, “And Greg too, when he wakes up.”

Steven’s face falls against his wishes. He’s already caused so much trouble, he doesn’t want the gems to feel like they need to take care of his every whim and will just because he couldn’t handle himself!

Pearl looks at him, and her expression becomes a little less sure. “That is, if you’d like me to. I understand if you’d prefer to take care of it yourself, I just…”

And heck, he’s made Pearl lost for words. Not what he wants to do.

Steven forces himself to take a deep breath, breathing out the muggy smokiness invading his lungs. “No, it’s okay. If you want to, I’d love to eat your cooking again. It’s been a while.”

Pearl gives him a crooked smile and pulls him into a quick hug. “Excellent! I have so many recipes I’ve been meaning to try out. Maybe you can hang around and be my taste-tester today?”

He’d wanted to start helping the clean-up at Little Homeworld, but he supposes he can wait for an hour or two. For Pearl.

“Yeah. Sounds great.”

Steven convinces Pearl to let him help cook, needing to keep himself occupied. Connie comes down when she wakes up, and the noise of their conversation proves to be enough to rouse his dad.

Amethyst comes in from her room and is ecstatic to see so much food cooking. It takes Steven, Connie and Pearl’s combined efforts to save their breakfast from the voracious gem.

Garnet appears when the food is laid out on the table and makes herself comfortable, Cat Steven sitting in her hair.

Steven sits down with them all, feeling light for the first time in weeks.

/-/

He had eventually managed to sneak away to go to Little Homeworld, but as if she had future vision of her own, Bismuth was waiting at the warp when he arrived.

“You’ve been cleaning up everyone else’s messes for so long, Steven. You can sit this one out,” Bismuth had assured him, ushering him back onto the warp pad and taking him back home herself. He still felt bad, but in the end, he appreciated it.

He still isn’t ready to face everyone after wrecking Little Homeworld.

Tears well up in his eyes. He wipes at them frantically, but it’s no use. He’s been crying with startling frequency, and when he starts, it’s hard to stop.

And lately, when he cries, he is soon comforted. Before the first tear reaches his chin, there are big, multicoloured hands picking him up and carrying him to the couch.

When he’s put down again, he finds himself sat not on well-loved upholstery, but the strangely warm lap of a gem.

It’s way, way too comfortable to sit in Garnet’s lap, cradled in loving arms.

“I’m sixteen, Garnet,” he protests weakly. “You don’t need to- to put me in your lap like this anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Garnet says, giving him a little squeeze, “you’re never too old for affection.”

“Heh. I guess you’re right.” Steven’s voice comes out a little wet, as it often tends to do these days.

“I hope you’re prepared to not move for the next hour,” Garnet adds.

“What?”

A furry warmth climbs into his lap, and Steven is delighted to see Cat Steven making herself at home there.

“Oh.” Steven melts as Cat Steven begins to pur, and he scratches gently behind her ears.

As predicted, they remain that way for an hour before Steven’s tears dry and the void in his chest closes up, at which point Cat Steven stands, stretches, and walks away with a little miaow.

/-/

Connie returns to the house in the afternoon. She’s been spending an hour or so each day at the library, getting in some college prep while she’s away from home. Quite conspicuously, she’s only been studying when Dad or the gems have some kind of activity planned to keep him occupied for that time.

They sit down together for lunch, holding hands over the table, as Connie tells him about how she thinks gem technology defies physics. She asks after Steven’s day, and he tells her about the doctor’s appointment he’s booked and his impromptu cuddle session with Garnet and Cat Steven.

They fall into a comfortable silence, which of course is when Steven’s brain decides to throw everything in his face again. He doesn’t cry this time, but he feels the wrinkles of his frown.

“What is it?” Connie asks.

Steven bites his lip. He doesn’t want to bother her with it. But he can’t keep everything bottled up. If nothing else, he’s learnt his lesson about that.

“It’s just… I’m thinking about what happened. I’m worried that you’re still here. You should go home! I don’t want you to risk your future for me. You need to study, not look after me.”

“Steven, I’m here because I want to be,” Connie says. “Some things are more important than studying. It’s really not going to hurt for me to be here a bit longer. But that’s not all you’re worried about, is it?”

“Yeah. My…” he takes a deep breath, has to accept it, has to say it, “corruption. I really could’ve hurt people. You and Dad, all of the gems. And Beach City, Little Homeworld! I’m- or at least. My powers are dangerous. It’s scary. And I don’t know if I can ever make up for everything I’ve done with them.”

Connie gives him that look. That warm one, where her eyes go all soft, the one she gives because she’s concerned and she loves him and she wants to make everything better. Her other hand comes up to sandwich his own.

“Whatever happens from here,” Connie says slowly, “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. There’s no one, instant way to fix everything, or control your powers, or get better.” She squeezes his hands. Her sword-calloused hands, smaller than his own, are firm and strong.

“I know it was scary, and I understand why you’re scared. But what-ifs won’t help, okay? No one was hurt. The house wasn’t damaged, you didn’t get anywhere near Beach City.

“You can’t change what happened. But you’ve done so much good you shouldn’t ignore, and you can keep doing good. You aren’t alone, and we will never let you feel alone again. We’ve all learnt from this, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you don’t break down, or become corrupted again.”

Connie looks him in the eye, holding his hand tight. “And if, somehow, things go wrong again? We will make it better. Crystal Gems always find a way.”

The tears come again, and Connie holds him tight as he clings to her.

“Thank you.”

/-/

Steven sits at the table, surrounded by his family.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen from here. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be okay again. He’s terrified he’ll break down again one day, and won’t come back.

The future is a foggy, unknowable mystery ahead of them all. There are still so many questions and uncertainties plaguing him.

But now, Steven’s pretty sure he has the beginnings of the way forward, a start for the answer.

He looks between his family members, so full of compassion and life, looks around the house, adorned by years of soft memories and tough decisions and firm, unending determination. He smiles.

Yeah, Steven’s pretty sure.

The answer… is love.

[annhellsing]

Best of Dark and Bright

notes: i disappeared for over a week and come back with...... yet more a3! oh my god. anyway shrugs, it’s more azuma angst!! rating: explicit tbh. it’s not super detailed but i mean?? yeee pairing: azuma yukishiro / reader word count: 2,317

He has curled up before, like a cat in the arms of a lover. This is a poor imitation.

Azuma holds his knees to his chest, the blanket thrown over most of him and his hair spread out against the disorganized pillows. He feels small like this, but not safe. No, he’s helpless, choking back hard sobs in an attempt to quiet himself.

He’s never liked sleeping alone, some things never change. Even when he was a child, he would wake missing his brother’s snoring in the bed next to him. Of course, it’s more than discomfort that keeps him from finding rest now. 

There are screams every night when there is no sound of another’s beating heart to drown it out. There is a crash, three sickening thuds of skulls against glass and rubber and metal. Sirens. Then, silence.

He has not tried to go to sleep, not after slumping heavily in bed with his clothes still dotting the bare floor. He tried not to cry in front of his almost-bedfellow as the man departed, that would have been a sorry sight indeed.

Azuma can’t say this is the first time it's happened. It serves him right for assuming, he supposes, that everyone looks forward to a cuddle after a roll in the hay. Not this man. He rose like he cared very little for who he just made love to and tugged his suit back on.

Work in the morning, he said. Thanks for understanding.

There is nothing to be understood. Azuma lets hot tears come now, the feeling of hollow emptiness settling in with the fullest force. He likes sex, of course, and has never once regretted it. But to watch the back of a lover as they decide he is not worth staying for--- nothing on earth stings quite like it.

He drops his head, leaning forward until he can’t distinguish the dark of the room for the warm black of his folded arms. He closes his eyes, trying to slow his breathing to a human pace. It is a difficult task.

---

The salaryman tips his head towards you as you walk by. The hallway is otherwise quiet, still lit up so soon after dark on a weekend night. You watch him go, trying to guess which room he came from.

Sakyo seems unlikely, more the type to arrange motel visits if he wanted to bring someone home. Homare-- maybe, but the man looks a little plain for his tastes. As you brush by the otherwise dull-seeming man, you catch a whiff of a familiar shampoo and the faintest trace of lilac.

The salaryman says nothing, he offers only the cocksure smirk of a man who’s gotten some. It doesn’t set your mind at ease, most of Azuma’s lovers leave just a bit before sunrise. You’ve almost never seen them up close.

A feeling rises in you, not necessarily one of fear but instead that things might not all be right. You turn back to the hallway, walking faster now and heading towards the stairs. You’ll check on him first and work your way down the floors in more detail when you know he’s all right.

Azuma’s a good judge of character, you're sure he could take care of himself. It’s likely nothing’s happened, you’ll hear the sound of his soft breathing when you open his door. You’ll find him sleeping, nearly purring.

But his door doesn’t need to be opened very much. It’s partially ajar, showing the dark beyond and the faint outline of a figure slumped on the bed. You grip the handle and push it open fully.

“Az?” you ask, “Honey, are you okay?”

The shape on the bed moves, his breathing is far from peaceful. It sounds ragged, too similar to sobbing for you to hover for very long. You close the door and realize that the bathroom light to the left is still on, too.

“Azuma, it’s just me. What happened?”

A silver head lifts from the mattress, though his hair is half in his face you can see that he’s been crying. Before you even make it to the bed, he’s reaching for you. You sit behind him, careful to give him space. Azuma wholly discards that, shifting and twisting as much as he can until his head is safe in your lap.

“Sweetheart,” you try again, even though he’s done little else but cry since you came in. Your voice turns cold, something you don’t recognize, “Did he force you?”

“No,” Azuma sighs, sounding congested and exhausted in the same breath. He turns, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You find his golden stare unnerving, you’ve never seen him look so upset. “But he left me, he wouldn’t stay. I begged him to, but--”

“Oh, Az,” you sigh, relieved and yet still pained to see him so sad. “I should’ve kicked him in the shin, I knew he was no good.”

Azuma doesn’t say anything. He drops his head, closes his eyes. He looks tired, it’s getting late. Your lap is comfortable, he thinks.

“How about some water, okay?” you start, “I can make the bed while you put your pyjamas on and I’ll stay the night.”

“You will?” he sniffles. You nod.

“I know you--- you’re working on sleeping alone. But it’s not your fault he was a jerk,” you say.

“I thought I was a better judge of character,” he admits. You shake your head.

“No, come on,” you say, your fingers find his hair. You brush it back from his face, revealing high cheekbones and soft skin. “None of that, we all make mistakes.”

He huffs, half in an agreement and half in relaxation. Your hand feels good in his hair, cool and gentle. Azuma sighs, but rears up when your hand leaves and you start to shift.

“Don’t move,” he exclaims, reaching out again when you turn your knees and try to stand up. “Don’t leave.”

“But--” you start, “Az, I’m just going to turn the bathroom light off so you can sleep. I’m not leaving.”

He huffs again, but this one edges towards a whine. You bite your lip and go still. You can hold him a little while longer.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. His cheeks are wet, you notice. Despite your promise, he’s still crying. “So he just-- he just left.”

“As soon as I was done, yes,” Azuma admits, “I wonder if he even liked me.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, concerned at how easily doubt creeps into his mind. “If an ass like that did like you, it would be an insult. You deserve better.”

“I deserve you,” he sighs. You, to his unending surprise, nod.

“You have me, honey,” you say, “I’ll stay all night, don’t worry. But you should get cleaned up.”

“I barely want to move,” Azuma counters. You smile, just a bit.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “let me up, I’ll get a cloth. Let me take care of you.”

And the sigh that leaves him is like the last of his stress has gone up in smoke. Azuma goes almost limp in your lap for a moment, before stiffening up and rising enough for you to stand.

“Good boy,” you whisper, giving his head a pat before slouching off to the bathroom.

The bathroom looks orderly, even with bottles of product lined up on the shelves around the mirror. You find a face cloth and run the tap until warm water pours out. Then, you turn it cold and fill a glass. On your way out, you turn out the light with your shoulder.

The curtains flutter in the breeze, there’s enough moonlight to guide you back to the bed. Setting the glass on the side table, you turn to look at your new bedfellow. He’s still curled up, but less stiff than before.

“Can I turn on the light, sweetheart?” you ask. He rolls his shoulders and you see him nod.

You flick the lamp on and sit down on the bed again. This time you’re somewhere else, reaching for the edge of the blanket and guiding it gently down.

“Can I see?” you ask this time. Azuma pauses and then, after a moment, he unfurls.

He’s unmarked, it seems. Not even a love bite adorns his pale neck. His chest looks soft and his breathing seems to have slowed a bit. He stares at you, all the while, while you look. It feels strange to be the cast-off, but it isn’t the first time he’s been that.

But it is the first time, he can admit, that someone was there to want him in spite of that.

“That’s it,” you whisper, your tone turning breathy and sweet. Before you reach anywhere intimate, your hand finds his cheek. You wipe the tears from his red face with your thumb. “You can cry if you need to, but you’re not alone any more. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replies after a short breath.

“Come on,” you say, your tone is still languid and careful-- even as you pull the blanket down farther.

It’s as you expected, his cock is soft against his stomach and Azuma’s a terrible mess. He’s not shy, at least, about the way you look at him. Nor does he resist when you carefully part his legs.

You take a moment, admiring how long and pretty they are. He has legs some people would die for. Others, like you, might even kill for them. But you shake that thought from your head.

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” you say, deciding to start between his spread thighs.

He lets out a soft whimper when the warm cloth touches his skin. You start to wipe away evidence of his departed lover from the backs of his legs, moving inward and going slow.

“Too much?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Okay.”

You continue, Azuma stares at the ceiling. This is nice, nicer still that he knows it's your hand doing the work. He slumps back on the bed, wiping at his own cheeks and hoping he isn’t too puffy. He’s so tired, but he supposes an eye mask is in order.

Any thoughts of skincare falter, however, when he thinks for even a second about how good you are to him. He looks down, between his legs to you cleaning his most intimate parts like you were the one to put him in such a state. The thought makes him oddly warm.

Azuma stiffens up again when that warm, unassuming cloth and your hand moves over his dick. 

The result is instantaneous. Even exhausted and spent, his body reacts to your gentle attention. He supposes he shouldn’t be ashamed of that, out of everything you’ve seen tonight. But it bothers him, oddly enough, that you might be disgusted by such a shift in his mood.

You might stop if you notice, but his cock gives another twitch. It’s useless to try and dismiss something he’s never bothered to control. It feels good, the way you’re taking care of him. Azuma closes his eyes, waiting for inevitable embarrassment on your part.

But you move on, cleaning traces of his own orgasm from his stomach. The cloth has mostly grown tepid by then and you toss it towards the bathroom without a second glance.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “you’re all tense again. It’s fine. It’s normal to react like that. Did the cloth feel good?”

He imagines someone bashful might close their legs. Your pointed, downward look tells him any hope he had of you not noticing was foolish from the start. He nods, almost absently.

“Actually, your hand did,” he says. Honesty is the only thing that sits right with him. He can see your face, lit up by the lamp on the bedside table. You’re smiling.

“How flattering,” you say, “do you want me to--”

“What?” he exclaims, his eyes go wide. As lazy as he is at the moment, Azuma sits up and props his elbow underneath him.

“Look at you, now you're blushing,” you smile a little wider. “Don’t tell me you’re so used to rejection. That’ll make me sad.”

“I’m not,” he replies, “but I thought--”

“I said I’d take care of you, honey, do you want me to?” you ask.

His cock twitches again. Azuma nods.

“Good, then let me get comfortable,” you say.

He’s not sure why that makes his stomach twist. His cock, pretty and thin as he is gives a pleasant throb. But when he moves to reach down and relieve himself, you guide his hand away.

“Give me a second, my goodness,” you sigh, rising quickly to turn off the light. You kick off your shoes and crawl over him into the bed.

You tug the covers over you, pulling your bedmate against your chest like this is a time-honoured tradition. Azuma’s slack-jawed, stunned speechless while you move him to where he’ll be most comfortable.

Across your chest is warmer and safer than in your lap, he finds. Your hand moves down his stomach, taking his now half-hard cock against your palm.

“Be good,” you kiss the end of his nose, “it’s late, so you have to be quiet.”

He nods dully, his eyes flutter shut when you begin to stroke.

Azuma is proud of himself for keeping his senses. You have one hand in his hair and the other idly works over his shaft. It’s surreal, how differently you behave under the cover of dark. But it isn’t unnatural or odd. It feels as if you might’ve always offered this to him, quietly, in your own way. He only needed to ask.

“More,” he sighs, now. Because you’ve proven that it’s never too late to do so. The end of his request is turned up like a question, in spite of himself.

You kiss his nose again. Your hand moves faster.

[shions-songbirds]

The Great Cat Heist (or not)

(Also posted on ao3)

Shouto was sick. Which wasn’t nearly as rare as everyone in class seemed to be convinced it was. Yes, it was rare for him to get very sick, like he was right now, debilitatingly sick, but he was an extremely overstressed child who got the bare minimum of sleep to function growing up, rather than the amount a child his age would’ve actually needed. And even now, he still got far less sleep than he needed and, well, no one could say the life of the students in class A wasn’t exceptionally stressful. What he was saying is, his immune system was terrible at its job and that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. 

His experience with being sick didn’t make the actual illness any less miserable, though. Fevers were a nightmare, especially considering he could generally regulate his internal body temperature, but, well, fevers existed for a reason, and with his body diverting all its energy to dealing with the virus, he didn’t have the energy to fix it even if he wanted to. Even if that wouldn’t have been a terrible idea. So he pulled his blankets over him more, cold and hot at the same time, a couple stray flurries and flickers occasionally popping into view, and he hoped he could just sweat this thing out and be done with it by the next day. While it was much better to be sick at the dorms than at home, he still didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to miss important lessons and practice. He knew the teachers didn’t much care, so long as he recovered, but he did. 

He huffed. His room was a peaceful place, and it was comforting, designed like his house but without the suffocating presence of his father, without the coldness that permeated every lifeless inch of the house. There were little trinkets around his room, things he’d gotten from his friends on his birthday, or when they went out together, things they brought back from their own trips out saying it reminded them of him. Every corner of his room, traditional as it may be, was steeped in pieces of his friends, in signs that he had grown, that the person he was now was better than the person he was when he first got into UA, with proof that he did have friends now, good ones, people he loved and would do anything for. 

Off to the side, there was a little plant he had gotten when he was out with Izuku, stating that the fluffy green thing reminded him of his friend. He had initially gotten it with intent to give it to his friend, but Izuku had insisted he keep it, and put it into a corner of his room, a reminder that his friend was always “in his corner” it was ridiculously cheesy and so utterly Izuku it had made him laugh and immediately comply. In addition to that, tucked beside his futon, is a dumb fluffy little sleeping cat plushie Hitoshi had given him on his birthday, one that looked like the little cat the two of them had initially bonded over when Hitoshi had found him sitting in the grass on campus, a tiny tabby that had slipped in settled on his lap. He also had a couple terrible but wonderful romance novels on his desk, gifts from Yaoyorozu, a blown up piece of his father’s merch on his dresser, courtesy of his lovely Katsuki, next to a picture Uraraka had given him on his last birthday, and there was more, everywhere. It was wonderful. And a wonderful distraction from the fact that he couldn’t currently breathe through his nose. 

He couldn’t wait until one of his friends could come visit him and make this sickness feel less torturous. Of course, he didn’t want them to get sick, too, but just having someone sitting in the chair at his desk and talking to him sounded wonderful right now, since sleep had eluded him for many, many hours. He was tired, far too tired to properly engage with his friends, probably, but he needed something, if he couldn’t sleep. Something to distract his brain from the constant thought that he was so, so sleepy, and he desperately wanted a good rest. Unfortunately, no distraction would be coming soon, because his friends had class, and until the day was done, he would be forced to lie in bed limply like a dead fish, all alone. 

Or at least that’s what he had expected, until he heard the door of his room fly open and gently bounce against the wall. It wasn’t a loud sound, not a proper bang, but it made a small thunk to accompany the sound of the door clicking open. He glanced up, his forehead covered in sweat, flushed to hell, and he was sure he looked disgusting, but his friends had all seen him in rough states before, and he really didn’t care if they saw him sick.

Seeing Hitoshi, though, was a surprise. And it seemed that was shared, because he seemed surprised at the state Shouto was in as well. Did nobody tell him he was ill? He was certain all of the class had known, since the teachers did, but he supposed not. Huh. He expected, then, the first words out of his friend’s mouth to be something that expressed some modicum of concern but it was not so. No, instead he got:

“You’re sick? What do you mean you’re sick? You’re my partner in crime!” which… rude. He didn’t choose to be sick, thank you. He glared weakly at Hitoshi, who completely ignored it. “I needed you to help me with something. A heist.”

“A heist?” Shouto asked, entirely unimpressed and showing it quite clearly, despite his voice sounding like he was choking on a cat.

“A cat heist!” Hitoshi explained. “How am I supposed to do a cat heist without my cat heist partner?” he asked, and really, that was not Shouto’s problem. While he enjoyed a good cat heist on a day when he didn’t feel like death but on drugs, he couldn’t find even an ounce of care within himself at this moment for it. Though… having a cat to cuddle with while sick would be pretty nice. 

Okay maybe it was his problem. He looked at Hitoshi.

“What, exactly, were you thinking?” he asked. Hitoshi grinned like a cat who had caught the canary, or, he supposed, the boy who had trapped another into catching the cat that caught the canary. That was complicated. Far too complicated for his feverish brain. 

“Okay so there’s this really cute calico outsi--” he cut himself off, a frown covering his face. He shook his head. “Actually, no, there’s no way we’re doing a cat heist when you’re sick. That’s way too much exertion. I’m not gonna be the one responsible for you dropping dead.”

“I won’t die,” Shouto huffed with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just a fever.” The word fever was punctuated with a cough. Hitoshi shook his head again. 

“That’s a definite no. I should’ve realized when you missed class that this was a no go.” Which… was true. He probably definitely should’ve realized but still. Now Shouto was hooked on the idea of cuddling a cat. 

“You can’t get my hopes up for cat cuddles and not deliver,” he huffed. That got a reaction out of Hitoshi, a small nod of acknowledgement that it was simply cruel to do that. The other didn’t say anything for a minute or two, before nodding resolutely and getting to his feet. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t move a muscle and try to take a nap if you can. You’re sick, you need a lot of rest. I’ll send Izuku through with a fever reducer and some soup for you. We all know your boyfriend is already making some for you.” He paused, stopping at the door. “Actually, can I brainwash you to sleep? Would you be okay with that?”

Considering how sleep had eluded him for… awhile, that was probably, definitely the best option. It was sweet of Hitoshi to care enough to offer, he smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful,” he said, and he felt a haze slip over his mind right as he finished speaking. Over the years, working and training together, it had become and oddly comforting feeling. Especially when he agreed to it beforehand. The hold was looser when there was consent, when he willingly gave control over, because the vice-like grip he often used was simply unnecessary. He stared at Hitoshi. 

“Take a nap,” he said, the command in his voice gentle, and Shouto’s brain complied without thought, finally allowing him the drift of sleep he had longed for all day. He fell into a blissful slumber. 

When he woke up, it was to a dark room. Had Izuku not come in? Or… Apparently he had slept through his visit, because beside his bed, well within reach but not close enough for him to knock around was a tray with a thermos, two pills, and a bottle of water on it. He also noted that he felt… oddly warm, but only in one part of his body, the side of his right thigh. He tilted his head, letting his eyes adjust a bit more to the dark, but he heard it before he saw it. 

The faint purr of a cat filled the air, and he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. There was a calico cat pressed against his side, his cold side, which was unusual, but he supposed, feverish as he was, both sides probably felt like his warm side. He reached down, weakly petting along the cats head. The purring grew louder. He smiled. He had a precious, purring kitty at his side. He was sure he had Hitoshi to thank for that. He wondered how that solo cat heist went. Obviously well enough that the cat got snuck into the building, but still. He’d have to ask him in the morning. 

In the meantime, the feeling of sleepiness wrapped around him like his blankets, and he fell asleep once more to the comforting purring of the cat. 

Purring that had persisted until morning, when he was awoken by the little thing kneading at his thigh. He smiled. His fever didn’t feel quite as bad this morning, but he still took the fever reducers on the tray, and thanked whatever god was listening that it was Sunday, meaning he wasn’t going to miss another day of class. With the fever reducer taken, he was about to grab the thermos and the spoon, and get some sustenance into his stomach, especially considering that Katsuki always made incredibly tasty food, when he noticed a slip of paper out of the corner of his eye. Careful not to disturb the cat with his movements, he adjusted to grab the paper instead, unfolding it to read. 

“I hope you slept well. And you better eat, or I’ll force you to. You know that’s not an empty threat, take care of yourself.” Which was rich coming from the boy who lived off of caffeine and hardly slept, but he knew the other meant well, and knew the reason for that was the chronic nightmares and insomnia he got as a result of his quirk. Shouto could sympathize. Not for quirk, but for childhood. He kept reading. “The cat heist was a failure,” it said, which was curious, considering the cat at his side, “but I got Aizawa-sensei’s permission to bring in the cat to help you, y’know, with the whole being sick thing. He couldn’t say no when I showed him the calico’s cute little face. He insisted on naming her, though, or, rather, letting Eri name her, so meet Potato Fluff. She’s the official dorm mascot. Don’t tell Nezu.” Shouto laughed. His lips were sealed. “I’ll come visit you and her in the morning. No hoarding all the cat cuddles to yourself. Don’t die, Hitoshi”

He shook his head, though the movement made his head pound. Mistakes were made. He wondered when Hitoshi would stop by. He hoped the others did, too, eager to see them all again, considering it had been over a day now, and that was extremely weird. He seldom didn’t see his friends at least once, but after he had passed out the day before, he had passed out, apparently. He could thank Hitoshi for that. He would, when he came to visit. 

He would thank him for helping him sleep, and for bringing him the cat. He was an amazing friend. He hoped he knew that. Even if he did, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him. 

He scooped up the cat, bringing her closer to his chest. She didn’t protest, nuzzling in immediately, and he decided, at that moment, that he would die for Potato Fluff. And that if being sick meant cat cuddles, and his wonderful friends helping him out, and his boyfriend making him food, and this, all of this, then maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe a fever wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, and maybe being sick didn’t have to be so miserable. 

He watched the door with a smile. Sure, he was still sick, and his head hurt, and he felt weak, but he had a wonderful cat and he had wonderful friends, and a wonderful boyfriend, and wonderful food his boyfriend had made for him that he was eating while holding the aforementioned wonderful cat, and this wasn’t bad at all. When he inevitably got sick again, well, he hoped it ended just like this. He kissed Potato Fluff’s little head. This was fine. 

[little-ki]

Good Bye

This is pretty much why I haven’t been updating my other story. I was kidnapped by plot bunnies. A huge (kinda angsty) plot bunny and hopefully this time I can consistently write now that this opening scene is finally out of my head. I’m going to edit it a bit more before posting it on AO3, since this is potentially another multi-chapter story. This alone was 2K so much longer than expected.

Also, this is my first time actually writing for the Naruto fandom after enjoying works from other writers for YEARS. Please be gentle. QAQ

“Shisui, you don’t have to do this.”

He turned back and his fingers paused mid-button. Bundled on the bed was his gorgeous fairy. Her honey brown eyes were misty with tears and their slightly droopy shape looked at him as if he had wronged her. He could see various marks on her skin from the previous night, barely covered by the bed sheet and before he knew it, he was standing in front of her and kissing her cherry lips. She tried to speak but he swallowed her words, and as she softly returned each kiss, he wanted to climb back into bed and continue loving her forever.

Eventually he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, not wanting to move too far. “Shisui, please.” He was a goner.

Diving into another lingering kiss, he caressed her lips over and over again, trying not to dwell too deeply in the memories and sounds of the night before. He only withdrew when she was rendered breathless but couldn’t help but press another kiss on her flushed cheeks.

Slowly stepping back, he quickly re-buttoned his shirt and grabbed his discarded jacket from the floor. He moved towards the door and looked back to see her crying, and forced himself to stay by the door, gripping the frame tensely.

“I’ll be back. Then, I’ll be all yours,” he smiled before walking out the door. After leaving the apartment, he locked the door with a retinal scan and turned towards his men waiting outside.

“No one else can come here. No one,” his eyes narrowed and swirled into the three-pronged shargingan he was known for. The air became heavy until someone stepped forward.

“Yes, sir. We will be waiting here until you return.” Shisui hummed and moved towards the car waiting outside. After getting in, he pulled out his phone and softly touched the screen.

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

“Keke, he’s leaving.” A small black kitten jumped on the bed and crawled into her arms. Her hands instinctively moving to brush his fur, as he purred in contentment.

“I know, Sasuke.”

She spent months with Shisui and knew without a doubt that he loved her. Just not enough to change his mind.

Flashes of last night rolled across her mind. He had been so loving, so devoted. Whispering sweet filthy things in her ear as his hands burned across her skin. Everything became a blur as she couldn’t tell when something started or ended. His every touch felt like a prayer, like he was worshiping her. She couldn’t help but tremble thinking about it.

They had loved until the morning, Shisui had only slept a few hours before he left. It had been deliberate on his part to ensure she would so sore and exhausted that she wouldn’t be able to move and physically stop him. If her tears couldn’t stop him from leaving, nothing would.

“Keke, what are you going to do?” Sasuke asked as he curled up in her lap.

“What can I do?” She continued stroking his back, “There’s nothing I can do.”

Personally, Sasuke was surprised that Shisui didn’t give in. After watching him maneuver to snare Keke, he had thought this mission would be a breeze.

Shisui Uchiha. His father had been a detective that was killed in action while pursuing a corruption case. The incident involved a high-ranking family that bribed the director of the police force to pass on the wrong information his father, which led to his death. The family was cleared of the case, and the blame was placed on his father for accusing the innocent. His mother passed away shortly after from grief and backlash of the case. Shisui had only been ten.

Shisui swore to get revenge on the family and corrupted police-force, and entered the darker side of the family business under Madara Uchiha. He became a double agent, working for the police and the mafia, eventually becoming the youngest captain on both sides.

Keke’s mission was to help him obtain his revenge without taking the lives of the family or the police, as to not add onto his own consequences.

Sasuke had watched Shisui first take an interest in Keke, only to fall deeper each time they spoke with each other. Soon, he started bumping into her when she got groceries or went out on errands, then started inviting her to spend more and more time with him, until Keke found herself living with him in this apartment.

Sasuke and Keke had originally planned to just be friends and eventually a close confident of Shisui. That way they could offer advice and hopefully divert his plan for revenge, but they had been too naïve.

There was no doubt that Shisui was completely obsessed with Keke. As a system, Sasuke could monitor Shisui, and knew just how much time he focused on her. Her ‘protection detail’ was comprised of his most elite and loyal men, everything she used and that surrounded her in the apartment was of the highest quality, even the tissues. Not to mention that he had spent considerably less time at work since meeting her, without sacrificing his original mission. Sometimes Sasuke struggled to watch the two together, since the way Shisui indulged Keke made him sick from the sweetness. Not this time.

He felt something damp fall on his ears and looked up to see Keke sobbing silently. He reached up and put a paw on her face. “Sasuke, what do I do? I know how much this means to him. I-“ She covered her mouth as she cried before continuing shakily, “I-I’ve felt terrible since that night he opened up to me. I know that we’re doing this for his own good… But… It-it doesn’t feel that way.”

Sasuke shifted his body towards her, letting her hug him. “I’m sorry, Keke. But failing this mission means we have to move on to the next world.”

She whimpered and cuddled closer into Sasuke’s back. After several moments she pulled away and asked softly, “What happens after I leave?”

“You can only leave this world by ‘dying’. But since this was your first mission, you can choose how to leave.” Keke took a few moments to think before asking quietly.

“He’s watching me right now isn’t he… Can you make me disappear?”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Uh. Of course. But… Isn’t that a bit…”

“My ‘background’, is that I’m his guardian fairy sent to help him find a different path for his revenge. I even told him that if I failed, I would have to go back.” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of having to leave.

Sasuke kept quiet. Although the method seemed cruel, they both knew Shisui believed her story to some extent. Otherwise he wouldn’t have put her under video surveillance in an apartment that can only be opened with his unique eye signature. Though Sasuke didn’t doubt that Shisui also wanted to hide her away and keep her to himself.

They would have to leave as soon as Shisui got his revenge, and the short time frame meant that the only other option Keke had to leave, was to commit suicide. Vanishing on-screen was the lesser of the two evils. Still, Sasuke felt he wouldn’t accept her departure so easily.

The two sat in silence as Keke mentally prepared herself. Sasuke tilted his head towards her, “It’s time.”

Keke reluctantly opened her eyes and the building tears spilt over. She took a shaky breath before looking up towards the camera in the corner. Even without asking Sasuke, somehow, she knew he was watching. Sasuke’s eyes shifted into the Mangekyo as he counted down, “Moving onto the next world in three, two, one…”

With a wobbly smile she stared straight at the camera and mouthed, “I love you, Shisui,” before fading away.

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

It was over. After years of planning, sacrifice, and moments where he wasn’t sure he would see tomorrow, it had finally ended. He took a deep breath and felt all the tension leave him, before pulling out his phone. He wanted to see her.

Opening the monitoring screen, he saw her sitting in the same spot, cuddling the kitten she loved so much. A smile crept onto his face. This was his fairy. His treasure.

She looked up and his heart broke seeing that she was still crying. He knew she had hoped he would get his revenge in a different way, but this wasn’t just about his own grudges anymore. At first, he merely thought she was daring but interesting, when she asked him to reconsider whether his vengeance would truly be what he needed. His entire life had revolved around the goal of avenging his parents for the injustice they faced. Yet, slowly he realized that he wanted something else more.

He wanted to hear her jabber and talk as they watched old romantic comedies. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms and hear her murmur good morning as they kissed. He wanted to be there by her side as they grow old and still see that sparkle in her eyes. What he wanted was forever with her.

That’s when he realized how dangerous his current situation was. If he didn’t deal with them thoroughly now, they could come back and hurt her and their future kids. He would never risk that. Never.

Now everything was settled, and they could be together. Nothing would get in the way.

Shisui grabbed his keys and got ready to go home while watching the screen, he needed to hold her. Suddenly, she looked up at the camera. Shisui felt a chill run down his back as he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He watched her mouth the words, ‘I love you, Shisui’ before disappearing on-screen. No. No. NO. NO.

He called his team and yelled, “Where is she!” while running out of the office, and barely heard the report. His men had been stationed at every door, window and opening, there was no way she could leave. He recklessly drove through the streets, breaking every speed limit as he raced home. She couldn’t be gone.

Shisui burst into the apartment and saw no other records at the door beside his own from this morning. He opened the bedroom door and paused. It was the same as his screen. The bed, the sheets, her things, everything was still there. Except her.

He moved towards the bed and touched the sheets; they were still warm. She was just here. She had just been with him this morning. Where. Why.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a fairy? You know. A guardian fairy. Here to help you see the error of your ways.”

That had been the night he held her in his arms for the first time. “Oh, really?”

“Yep! But if I fail then I have to go back, then I won’t be able to see you anymore” she pouted, “and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He tightened his arms around her and looked into those warm chocolate eyes that made him melt, “I would never let you go.”

That had also been the night of their first kiss and the start of their relationship. He hasn’t taken it very seriously at the time, but he couldn’t forget it either and eventually he became wary. She was amazing in every way, and sometimes he couldn’t believe that she picked him. Now that she did, he wouldn’t let her leave. He had only wanted to keep her safe until he dealt with everything, but now…

Shisui gripped the sheets in his hands and stomped out of the room, trying to move past the rest of his family, “I have to find her!”

Madara moved in front of him, “We will find her.”

[neoarchipelago]

Making it up to you (John Wick x Reader one-shot)

AN: Ok i'm sorry this is short and also that i suck at writing smuts... 😂😂😂 I hope you enjoy it a bit at least! Here's the first request!

Request: John comes home late and he forgot you two had dinner. By @keanuchillz

Word count: 2 023

Warnings: cursing, Smut i'm not very good at it so sorry…

________________

Your eyes darted at the clock. Everything was ready. Diner was served, you had especially prepared John's favorite food for the occasion. You had been planning a dinner for the past three weeks and you finally had managed to get everything just perfect. You had a cute little black dress on, your hair in a simple bun, and just some red lipstick on your lips. The table was set, candles and roses petals across the black table cloth. Yes everything was perfect. Yet John hadn't arrived yet.  It wasn't like him to be late but you shrugged it off, everyone can be a bit late.

You sat down on the couch, waiting. You mentally crossed out everything out of your little checklist.

Dinner, done.

Table, set.

Candles, lit.

Red bottom heels, check.

Cute and sexy matching underwear, check.

You smiled to yourself. It had been a while since you two have had a peaceful diner. John had too much work so did you. Being assassin's is not the easiest Job and yes it was complicated to find some alone time. You bounced in between the Continental, or at home but usually you two were two tired to have actually diner and ended up ordering take out and watch movies in front of the couch, all the while being careful not to hurt each other because of the bruises while you cuddled. You seeked peace, and normality for once. Just once.

You had therefore proposed a diner, a romantic diner, at home. John had accepted amused by the idea. You'd prepare everything, and you two would enjoy a normal, romantic dinner. But that morning he had received a call for a contract that was supposed to be quick and hadn't returned yet. You weren't really afraid for your boyfriend. The Baba yaga was hard to get. Yet every time something inside you twisted and turned every time he had a contract.

You glanced back at the clock. 30 minutes late. That was unusual. You sighed. He was just late. He'd be home soon.

After passing back and forth through the house for almost an hour, you gave up on the idea. You looked down at Dog and sighed.

"So much for dinner right?"

You shook your head and blew out the candles. You kicked out your pretty black heels and walked upstairs. You took off the pretty black dress and the pretty matching underwear. And decided to get into a warm relaxing bath. You stepped into the bathroom and let the water run in the bathtub.

You sighed again. You thought about John, how much he had changed your life through the past year. You had met him in a contract and had peaked his curiosity. He sure as hell was handsome and almost frightening, everything that attracted you. You remembered how you two had felt a connection instantly between each other and how things had quickly fallen into place. You two were assassin's and you first saw each other at the continental before spending quite as much of time in his house.

You stepped into the bathtub finally letting the warm water get the best of you. You knew this was complicated for both of you. You were glad for what you two had and maybe you should try to just be happy with it.

You let yourself in the water for a while before finally getting out, and drying yourself. You wrapped a towel around yourself and let your hair down from the bun. You walked out of the bathroom and froze.

There on the bed John sat, waiting for you. He smiled up at you apologetically. You faked a pout and walked to the dresser.

"(Y/n)... Baby I'm sorry…" you heard him say.

You ignored him, turning your back to him, as you pretended to look through your clothes. You heard him stand and walk to you as you tried to keep a straight face and sound at least a bit angry. You felt him wrap his arms around you and you looked at the clothes absentmindedly.

"You forgot dinner." You said, acting angry.

"I'm sorry honey. The job took it out of my mind…" he answered softly.

You sighed.

"Come on baby girl, let me make it up to you" he purred in your neck.

You groaned trying your best to keep at least a bit of dignity as you felt yourself getting hotter, just at the thought of him trying to apologise. You felt his lips press against your neck and you closed your eyes, suppressing a moan that threatened to escape your mouth. You were tempted, he was such a sweet temptation that made you want to forget any kind of anger you could feel towards him.

"No John… I prepared your favorite food…" you spoke with a pout.

"But you are my favorite food" he said in a husky voice.

The moan that escaped your mouth at the feeling of his breath of your neck made him grin. You could feel yourself getting wetter and you were really on the verge of giving in. His hands, that previously rested on your hips wondered on your body. His left hand reached up to cup your breast, and you felt your nipples hardening under the towel.

"John…" you moaned, his other hand resting on your stomach, taunting you.

"Come on… I'm sorry baby girl…" he whispered again.

He spun you around, making you look at him. His dark, lustful eyes making you melt. His lips met your in a tender kiss, your tongues battling softly as your hand rested on his still clothed chest. One of his hands lost itself in your hair, the other cupped your ass, pulling closer to him, making you feel his erection through his pants. Feeling all resistance wearing thin he slowly pulled on the towel around your body, making it fall to the floor. The cold hair not helping your hard nipples. You moaned against his lips, finally giving in, mentally cursing yourself for being this weak to his charms.

Your hands found the knot of his tie, pulling on it, getting it loose. You felt John smile against your lips and felt your anger slightly rising again. Cocky bastard. You quickly separated from him, getting his tie off first, and then his jacket. Backing off with him you quickly unbuttoned his shirt, as his hands tried to pull you closer to him. You smiled at him, as he looked at you confused. You pushed him to sit on the bed, surprising him and making him grin. You sat on his lap, straddling him.

Letting his shirt slide down his shoulders you kissed his neck, earning a groan from him. Yes, if he wanted to apologise for forgetting your diner, then he'd have to pay at least a bit. Grinding your hips against him, feeling him twitch under you. He grabbed you by the neck kissing you with force, as his other arm pulled you even closer, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You pulled back, grinning as he groaned. You pushed him down on the bed, letting your hands slide down on his chest, moving your hips. He closed his eyes clenching his jaws. You loved this, being in control, driving him insane. But you also knew that he wouldn't last long, and wouldn't be nice too long.

You could already feel him getting impatient as his hands squeezed your thighs. But tonight you felt like playing with fire. You kept grinding against him, getting wetter, and listening to him groan.

"(y/n)" he warned in a deep voice.

But you didn't listen, you bent down to kiss his neck, moving your hips again. It must have been the breaking point for him as he decided to turn the tables. You didn't exactly understand how but you were suddenly underneath him, his lips pressed against your chest, as he sucked on one of your nipples. You moaned loudly, trying to undo his belt. He chuckled at your impatient, as if he, himself wasn't completely gone. He rose up undoing his belt and kicking his shoes. As he pulled his pants and boxers down, freeing his erection, your throat went dry. This was going to be quick apparently. You anticipated what was coming and honestly you were loving it. He groaned when you sent him an innocent look yet completely dirty, as you bit your lips looking up at him.

"Up." He ordered.

You crawled up on the bed, obeying him. He knelt down on the bed, his face in between your legs, and you sucked in a breath. Feeling his breath on your pussy you closed your eyes. Earning a chuckle from him. You tried to curse but before any other sound could escape your lips you felt his tongue take a long and slow lick across your folds making moan loudly. His beard burnt a bit the skin of your thighs but the plaisure made you forget about it. Your hands getting lost in his hair you moaned loudly, letting your head fall back. You try to move your hips, but his rough hands held your thighs still as he licked and sucked on your clit. You were sure you'd have bruises on them in the morning but you couldn't care less.

"John…" you moaned.

You felt yourself getting close to your release but John suddenly pushed back making you whimper at the loss of contact. He rose again looking at you darkly. You knew he was going insane as well, trying to hold back. He kissed you deeply, as you could taste yourself on his tongue, you moaned again.

"Do you forgive me baby girl?" He whispered pulling only a few inches away.

You moaned loudly in response, biting a bit his bottom lip. He lifted your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock against your wet pussy, teasing you. You closed your eyes moaning his name. He finally pushed himself inside you, making you throw your head back.

Yes completely forgiven. He pulled himself almost entirely out again before thrusting into you hard again. The room filled with moans, as he set up a pace, hitting that sweet spot inside of you everytime. Your nails scratched his back but he didn't seem to care. His lips hovered over yours sometimes kissing you other times simply grinning at you. The warmth of his body was intoxicating and you could feel yourself getting closer to your high. John noticed and he pulled back, still thrusting into you and circled your clit with his thumb, helping you get closer to the edge. You gladly welcome the help, feeling yourself burn as you finally exploded, feeling him get more erratic as well, as he himself reached his high.

He didn't pull back right away. He leant over you kissing you softly, leaving trails of kiss over your chest, your neck, your cheeks, your lips. When he finally pulled back to lay next to you, you curled up in his arms faking a pout.

"You own me a diner, Mr Wick." You said in a childish voice.

"Anything darling, I'm sorry love" he answered kissing the top of your head.

"I'm really sorry I missed out diner, I know you were really looking forward to it. How about I take a week out? You'll have me for diner whenever you want baby." He finally spoke in your hair.

"I'm afraid for you as well John. Everytime you come home late. And this time late…" you spoke in a small voice.

"Hush love, I'm right here." He said looking down at you.

You smiled up at him, kissing him.

"I'm fine with it, but I hope you'll apologise more as well…" you let out with a naughty look, shaking away the sad thoughts.

John's eyes darkened at the idea, a small smirk on his lips. He pulled you closer kissing you. You knew he was going to make it up to you, all night long.

_______

Tags: @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska

[mssjynx]

BID407, NSFW & 32?

alpha / beta / omega au

basicallyido407 drabble

32. We’re cuddling but I can’t tell if it’s friend-cuddling, or gay-cuddling…

warning: nsfw

There was a very direct line that friends would draw between them. A line that marked the difference between “too far” and “this is fine” when it came to platonic relationships; especially those that crossed second genders.

Marcel had those lines drawn. He had them with Craig, with Evan, with John, Jaren, and Brock. The betas and omegas were cuddle-aholics and he was, unashamedly, one as well. Unlike Tyler or Luke, he was the cuddliest of all the alpha’s. He loved the warmth and the friendliness that came from the messy piles their friends formed during overly-planned movie nights. He loved the scents of simple happiness that seeped from both the betas and the omegas when they decidedly plopped down on his chest or back, curling up like a cat or a dog and claiming his space as theirs.

No matter what, he kept that line.

For everyone. Everyone except Scotty; the beta that wriggled his way into Marcel’s heart about two years after meeting.

That had been a difficult three years ago and Marcel was still harboring a silly little crush on the melodramatic beta. But he refused to let it get in between their friendships, brushing off the lingering stares and consistent touching that they shared between each other more than he did with any other. He ignored the air of difference between them that didn’t hover between him and Evan, or him and Jaren. He ignored how Scott would sit closer, would smile more, would keep those gorgeous blue eyes on him while he laughed, no matter who at or why he was even laughing to begin with.

“Marcel?” A hand waving in front of his eyes brought him back to the present, feeling warmth on his lap and chest. Scott was sat sideways on the couch with his legs thrown over Marcel’s, the alpha’s arms tight around the beta’s waist to keep him close. “You vanished on me for a minute.” The smile on Scott’s face was, as always, beautiful, the beta tilting his head as Marcel’s eyes focused back in on his face. “You good?” he asked, snuggling back into Marcel’s chest after deciding the alpha was back in the present.

The alpha sighed, resting his head back to allow Scott more area to nuzzle against his collarbone. That action enough was something that set their interactions apart from the interactions he had with other betas, or even omegas. The affection stretched over the very blurry line that spanned between “friendly” and “too friendly”.

Yet, like every other time, he didn’t say a word. He just tightened his hold around the betas waist and squeezed out any remaining space between the two of them. The warmth and weight on his lap and against his chest; he couldn’t feel guilty for enjoying the moment. Pressing his cheek to Scott’s temple, he returned his eyes to the screen and held back his pleased purr when Scott’s sigh rolled over his sensitive skin of his neck.

They remained in silence for the rest of the movie, Scott shifting and squirming in a way Marcel had long since grown used to. Scott was always someone who took a lot of time to get comfortable, whether they were sitting or laying down. Marcel had stopped complaining about it to the beta a good two years ago, accepting that it wouldn’t stop the boy’s consistent moving.

“That was so fuckin’ cool,” Marcel muttered, feeling drowsiness wash down his spine as Scott hummed in agreement and snuggled closer. His nose brushed at the crook of Marcel’s nose and the alpha melted into the couch, holding Scott close. The comforting mingling of their scents was enough to almost put him to sleep and he didn’t think about the way he nuzzled his nose into the side of Scott’s head,

An undecided hum rolled from Scott’s throat, pausing Marcel in his descent into slumber.

“Everything okay?” he asked, forcing his eyes open so he could fall back and gaze through the darkness at the beta. Scott took a moment to lift his attention to Marcel, a look of hesitance in his eyes. “Scott?” Marcel probed, squeezing the hit beneath his hand.

It seemed that Scot made up his mind, the beta planting both hands on Marcel’s shoulders so he could brace himself. Then, smooth as anything, he lifted up and swung his leg over Marcel’s lap so he could plant himself on the alpha’s thighs.

Marcel’s brows rose in surprise, but he didn’t move his hands away from the beta’s hips, holding eye contact without a tense muscle in his body. Two feet over that very blurry line; Marcel didn’t give anything but a soft sigh.

“What is this to you?” Scott asked, head tilting. His weight was heavy, dragging himself as closer to make sure there wasn’t a millimeter of space between their pelvises. Marcel couldn’t stop the heat that wound through his veins, unable to ignore the air of something more between them. Scott’s smile was too close to his, his eyes too sharp, his chocolate-smelling breath tickling his mouth.

“Cuddling,” Marcel responded, hoping the darkness hid the way his eyes flickered over Scott’s face. The only light was from the flickering street lamp leaking into the living room through the thin, navy curtin.

The beta linked his arms around the back of Marcel’s neck, squirming closer. “Don’t play stupid, Marcel.”

“Well, what do you want this to be, hm?” he asked, letting his hands slide around from Scott’s hips to his back. There was an air that lingered between them, like gas that would spark with every light of their breaths. With the weight of confidence on his shoulders, he made sure Scott noticed his deliberate look at the beta’s mouth, watching those pretty lips curl in a smile.

Scott swayed closer, a few inches between their mouths, but he rocked back, pulling his lip between teeth. “Do you let anyone else sit on your lap like this?” His words were tentative; unsure and careful.

“Do you think I’d kiss anyone else like this?” Marcel responded, tightening his embrace around the man’s waist before closing the space between them and fitting their mouths together.

Within five seconds, the kiss developed from chaste and sweet to fast and heated. Scott was sucking Marcel’s tongue into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it like he’d been born to drive Marcel crazy. By the way he rutted his hips down against the alpha, Marcel was certain that there was some sort of sexual magic going on.

Marcel was sure he had fallen asleep mid-movie. He had to have been dreaming. Not only was he kissing Scott, but Scott was kissing him back. He was kissing him, touching him, grinding on him; he was all over him and Marcel wanted to make sure, assuming he was blessedly fast asleep, that he never forgot the scent of Dream-Scott’s arousal.

When Scott broke the kiss in a gasp that sounded incredible vivid pressed against the shell of his ear, he didn’t wait to drop his mouth to the beta’s neck. Scott’s pulse bumped against the tip of his nose as the alpha mouthed at the heated skin. He was determined to savour as much of this dream as possible.

Except that he kept being distracted by those nimble fingers, yanking at Marcel’s shirt until it was released by his belt and began falling apart at the buttons. The clink of his buckle sounded before the zip of his fly and a fingernails were slipping down the skin of his naval, brushing through the little snail trail before sliding beneath the elastic of your boxers.

The reality of the scene swallowed Marcel. “Holy fuck, I’m not dreaming,” he moaned, the words falling out of his mouth as cold fingers slid around the base of his cock. Scott’s laughter was a teasing brush of air, teeth sharp when biting gently one the lobe of the alpha’s ear.

“Not a dream,” he said, grinding down and carelessly pinning his hand between the both of them as he whimpered. “I’m done with dreams.” The beta didn’t seem able to stop himself, hips rocking messily as Marcel’s hands drop down to grasp his ass. “I want you- I want you for real, not in my head anymore- Ah, fuck-”

Marcel didn’t wait to push his hand beneath Scott’s pants, hand against his bare ass as he pushed up against him. “This is fast.” He bit the words into the skin of Scott’s shoulder. “Are you sure this is alright?” He moaned as Scott’s hand tightened around him, sliding up to press his thumb against the alpha’s slit.

“Not fast enough,” Scott groaned. “C’mon,”--He withdrew his hand--“you can’t fuck me without lube,” he purred, mouthing at Marcel’s throat when the alpha’s head fell back. The groan was one of pain, his grinding uselessly up against Scott’s until the beta was lifting up off his lap and standing.

“Scott, you can’t just-”

The devilish grin on that gorgeous face was enough to stop his sentence short as Scott caught his hand and tugged. “You can knot me if you want,” he purred, dragging Marcel up to his feet and nipping at Marcel’s bottom lip.

And though it was a struggle to follow Scott all the way upstairs to their bedroom without shoving the beta against a wall and rutting against his ass like a horny teenager, it was all worth it. Worth it when Scott was pinned beneath him. Worth it when he was mewling because of three, slick fingertips pressed to his prostate. Worth it when Marcel’s knot was filling him up in a gloriously pleasurable way.

Worth it when he got to fall asleep with Scott splayed out over his chest and their fingers wound together.

[ask-elementalhermitcraft]

A Sun-Warmed Love

(1.8k, fluff, mod seagrass)

Anyways, it doesn’t matter. He’s just here for the warmth and the safe space where nobody bothers him. Not the cats. Definitely not the cats. [an evilxisuma/Z centered fic where he finally gets to be happy.]

tw: cursing

He’s not sure when it started, really.

He’s noticed a lot of other hermits on the server have pets—some have dogs, some have cats (some have too many cats, Cleo, he’s looking at you), and some have the odd parrot or other tamable mob. It’s nice, sometimes, to go over and visit them, he guesses. Better than doing nothing with his time.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s just to occupy his time. Just something to keep him not bored out of his fucking mind, he tells himself day after day.

He repeats it as he finds himself at Scar’s place more and more often, hanging around his weird base or lounging about in little magma-water-heated alcoves in the cave or especially, in his Room O’ Cats.

It’s so weirdly mesmerizing to stay there, just perched on a little block of wood that he’s got on a high place and watch the cats run around and over their own feet. They meow, he throws them some more salmon, they meow for some more, he meows back in a more angry tone and feels fucking stupid. Rinse and repeat.

Scar drops by sometimes, re-fills the salmon chest, says hi to him and then goes to do whatever kinda world-destroying terraforming he’s going to do next. Probably going to destroy an entire ecosystem for a palm tree, or whatever he does in his spare time.

At least he gets to use the catroom.

It’s really nice in there, he’s loath to admit. There’s a little room out of the way with glass windows and smooth stones that heats up in the winter and stays cool in the summer, where the cats love to take naps. He’ll never admit it, but sometimes when he’s overwhelmed he’ll take refuge in there with a cat curled up on his lap and snooze the day away.

Ah, to live life as a cat. No worries, except getting salmon. Must be a nice life.

Anyways, it doesn’t matter. He’s just here for the warmth and the safe space where nobody bothers him. Not the cats. Definitely not the cats.

—

Xisuma eventually finds him, when he’s taking one of his Designated Nap Days, and he’s very angry about being disturbed. “Woah, didn’t expect to find you—”

“Just want you to explain one thing. Just one little thing.” He’s angry now. He’d been looking towards his—HIS NAP TIME, not his cat time, thank you very much, and Xisuma had somehow found him out.

“Uh, yeah, what did you—”

“Why the hell are you here? Disturbing my Specific Time For Sleep? Just curious,” he says. He hears a hiss from below, looks at the cat he’s petting perhaps a little too hard, and forces himself to relax his tension. It helps him feel better, maybe, in a weird way.

“Just wanted some coral Z, no harm meant. Although, I didn’t know you liked cats…” Xisuma trails off. Probably just realized the dozen or so cats who were staring at him hungrily, smelling the salt of the sea still on his skin and by extent, fish. “Y’know what? Think I might leave you to it. Take off for the day. Exit the premises. Vacate the—”

Xisuma leaves in a dash, trying not to further anger the cats. Z laughs, anger almost completely dissipated. “Hey, kitties, don’t take it too hard,” he calls out, tossing another one onto a dish for them to tear apart. One small grey one creeps up to him, licking around his hands for anything it might’ve missed. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Nope—nothing. Too bad for you.”

That’s when it decides to sit down between his legs and stare at him like that might magically make the fish appear. “Cat, no,” he chuckles. The sun’s pleasantly warm on his skin. He kinda feels like one of those cats stretched out in a puddle himself.

“Not gonna give you any. Don’t fuck with me.” It still stares at him.

“You don’t understand the English language, do you? Don’t have a quite firm enough grasp of the Queen’s English?” He smiles. It’s nice to talk to something that can’t really understand nor really wants to.

Z lets out a steady stream of how he’s been doing, how other hermit’s bases are going, how much he hates the sheer Ugly of this one makeshift build that Wels had made because, really, he understood it was makeshift but couldn’t he at least put in the effort to make it look nice? Just a little?

He lets all of the casual small talk he’d wanted to make for so long but didn’t know how to spill out to the cat still sitting patiently between his legs. It’s blinking slowly at him, and the setting sun is golden and warm and kinda lovely out the window, and the whole room seems to be relaxing and sinking down into a kind of subliminal space.

His voices trails off, his hand stops petting, and the cat has long since curled up at his side against the wall.

In other words, he’s fast asleep.

—

Z wakes up the next morning in a slow, steady kind of way—quite unusual for him. He’s wondering why he doesn’t feel his bed beneath him, when he scans his surroundings and realizes—Oh. He’s not at his bed.

Son of a bitch, he’s fallen asleep in the cat room. And Scar’s standing in front of him, chuckling. “So, got a good rest in there?” he says.

“So what if I have?” It’s unnecessarily defiant, probably, and he knows that but he’s been caught sleeping in the cat room. His dignity was on the fucking floor. Oh, the horror.

“Not anything against you, just asking: did you want to take Boo with you? The one cuddled against you? She’s a sweetheart, and I think she likes you, and also I have too many cats. Please.”

Z scrambles for words. “I—uh—what—”

“Cat or no cat, Z?”

~

In his defense, he was panicking at the time. Also, he did not make good decisions when he was panicked. Two very important factors, he thought, that led up to him doing two things:

1. Teleporting away with the cat still snoozing in his arms, and

2. Avoiding Scar for the next couple weeks. Which unfortunately meant no Cat Room.

He’d panicked, and now he had a cat in his little base with no way to feed it or take care of it.

Fuck.

Cats liked salmon, he knew. So he asked around, borrowed a fishing rod, and spent hours fishing to nab some fish. Turns out that he could get some pretty decent fish when he focused, he thought. Luckily enough, the cat seemed pretty happy with whatever fish he managed to catch—although, he did notice an odd preference for just straight up stealing his apples from his hand and nibbling on them just enough that it was annoying. (Or endearing. He didn’t quite know.)

He got a nicer bed for the cat than his own, grabbed some wool from Joe, talked to him (which he didn’t really want to do but was a necessary evil and, as it turns out, not so bad after all), and it turned out the damn cat liked his bed better anyways. Whatever.

Z got the cat some nicer toys, some new contraptions to mess around with. He contacted Mumbo for some help with it, and Mumbo rushed to the tiny little base like hell was on his heels. He then proceeded to spend the next hour cooing over the cat who was soaking it up like a sponge. Annoying, to be sure, but he was helpful and the cat seemed to like him so Z let it slide.

And throughout all this, he avoided Scar like the plague.

—

And of course, when he least expected it, he saw him.

“How’s Boo treating you? She’s being a well-behaved girl?” Scar said, nodding to him from across the shopping district where he was doing some weird stuff involving floating water blocks and gray crumbling plants.

“What? She’s not my—I don’t—Boo’s not my cat!” Z sputtered. This was why he had avoided Scar, he thought, to avoid the embarrassment.

“You sure? She seems to like you, and you seem to like her as well, don’t you?”

“I mean, she’s a cute cat, but I shouldn't be in charge of a cat! I don’t even like them that much—Wha—WHERE’D YOU COME FROM?” Z cried out. For Boo herself, the demon of a cat, was twining around his ankles and mewing for food.

“See, she likes you!” Scar laughed. Sounded a little messed up, but. A Laugh.

Z hopped from ankle to ankle, shifting his weight in the hopes that Boo—no, the CAT—would leave. She just purred more determinedly. “No, she likes my food.”

“Well, if you’re that determined not to admit it…Godspeed, friend. May you rest in peace.” Scar gave him a mock salute and spun back around, but not before adding one last comment. “Oh, also, bring her by again to the Cat Room! Her siblings miss her.”

“What—SHE’S NOT MY CAT!” Z called to his retreating form. “I—Fuck.”

He looked down. “Cat, why must you make my life a living hell.” She just meowed.

“Oh, alright. I’ll grab you some food. Hold up,” he sighed.

—

It’s about two months later, and he’s pretty sure he’s got a cat now. She follows him everywhere, meows at him constantly, and sleeps next to him.

It’s surprisingly…not that bad. She keeps him company when he’s lonely, lets him rant to her without a word, and demands love and attention in the way only cats can. It’s kinda nice to have something like that.

It’s still annoying, yeah, but Z’s starting to think it’s edging on the side of endearing now.

Her fur’s super soft, probably from all the brushing, and if she were a person, her dating profile would probably say “likes to take warm naps in the sun.” They’ve been stealing away into Scar’s Cat Room together sometimes now, to visit her siblings and to take a nap every now and then. It’s starting to form a new kind of normalcy in his life that he’s actually kinda liking.

The only truly frustrating part is her name.

She won’t respond to anything else besides Boo. It’s like she’s been goddamn trained, despite the fact that she’s a cat. He’s been trying out name over name, trying to find something cool that sticks, to no avail.

“Enderman?” No meow.

“Blade?” No meow.

“Slasher?” No meow.

“Ghast?” No meow.

“...Boo?” Furious meowing. He begs for mercy to whatever heavenly beast cursed him with a grey cat that only responded to Boo.

Better than no cat, he reasons. Better a sweet, cuddly, talkative, soft cat than no cat.

[thiswasinevitableid]

"I've become a regular client of yours and I want to know what it would cost to be your only client" Indruck or Sternclay (your amazing at writing both)

Thank you!

I decided to keep Indrid as a Sylph and imagine a slightly different life trajectory for him.

In case it isn’t obvious, two warnings: This is Not Suitable For your Workplace, and sex work is a topic within it

Indrid studies himself in the mirror for about the fiftieth time. He wants to look his best, because Duck will be here soon. It’s not their first time together, far from it. But tonight is different.

Tonight is special.

——————–

He’d hired companions before. He’d been on earth a long time and never quite gotten the hang of dating. But he had wanted companionship and sex from time to time, and money (the money that comes with being able to know the outcome of a sports game, a roll of dice, or the stock market before anyone else does) was the simplest way to secure that for a strange looking man who smiled a bit too wide and was always a bit ahead of the person he was talking to. He didn’t do it often, but every now and then it was worth it to have someone charming and nice to look at in his bed for an hour or so. Technology made it all the easier to arrange.

Duck had been one such arrangement, arrived at Indrids door with a crooked smile and the most wonderful drawl he’d ever heard. Soft and solid all at once and it made Indrids mouth water to look at him.

“How d’you want me?” He surveyed Indrids living room as he asked this, smile easy on his face but set with determination and a matter-of-factness that Indrid enjoyed.

“No way, quite just yet. We have things to discuss first.” He’d gestured to the table and Duck hesitated before taking a seat.

“Discuss?”

“Boundaries, likes and dislikes. I want this to be pleasant for both of us, and painful for neither.”

“I’m up for what-”

“-ever I want.” Indrid finished the phrase on top of him, bit his inner lip at the habit he couldn’t shake, “Look at the list in front of you. There’s nothing on it that’s off limits?”

Duck studied the paper Indrid had set out ahead of time, mis-matched eyes going wide when he hit certain lines.

“I uh, nope, all still good to go, uh, fuck, I mean uh. Fuck.”

“That was a terrible attempt at a lie.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, looked at Indrid and for the first time he saw nerves cross his face. Indrid reached across the table, took his hand gently and squeezed it. Caught himself before his smile got too wide to be reassuring.

“Just pick a few from the list you enjoy and we can go from there.”

He’d chosen something straightforward, and soon he was flushed and panting, flat on his back on the bed as Indrid fucked him. He was warm and sturdy and Indrid reveled in it, took his time drawing out new sounds of delight from the younger man. After he’d departed, Indrid made a note to hire him again.

And again.

And again.

And then it was habit for Indrid to contact Duck each weekend, then during the week as well and he found himself looking forward to the few hours (if that) they spent together.

He’s never been quite sure what moment it began to change. When Duck had begun to linger afterwards, when he started asking him to dinner before bringing him home. This was the first shift, when Indrid went from an hourly client to something more akin to a sugar daddy.

Perhaps it was when, as Indrid lay happy and exhausted against Ducks chest, he’d said something funny and the shorter man had laughed so hard, so undignified that it made Indrid laugh too and then Ducks face was pressed against his shoulder as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle the giggles.

Perhaps it was the day when Duck arrived for an appointment visibly sore from whatever he’d been doing with other clients and Indrid had coaxed him into laying on the bed so he could rub the ache from his limbs. The man had fallen asleep with his head in Indrids lap as he worked at the knots in his shoulders. Aside from a brief respite to take care of the hard-on he’d developed just from touching him, Indrid had stayed on the bed, drawing as Duck slept curled up against him.

Perhaps it was the day he’d asked Duck if there was somewhere in the city he best liked to go and the man had asked to visit the nearest state park. They’d walked a lovely flat trail for hours, Duck eagerly identifying and talking about the different plants and creatures they saw. This was how Indrid learned Duck had gone to school for wildlife biology, had taken up escorting to cover a mounting debt that he was still digging himself out of. They’d eaten dinner at a picnic table, Indrid warmed by the late afternoon sun and the happiness radiating from his companion.

Perhaps it was the time he’d set aside a whole day for him and Duck to try something new, something they were both interested in. He’d kept the man tied to the bed, edged him for an hour, whispered filthy praise to him the whole time, taken him twice before finally letting him come. And then he’d spent the rest of the evening on aftercare, cooing and fussing over Duck. He’d never tried anything of that kind with partners on earth before.

The second shift, the shift Indrid is currently angling for the conclusion of, was that his feelings for Duck were growing stronger. There were two incidents that Indrid saw, in retrospect, were the catalysts.

First had been a night, several months ago, where he’d woken up in a fit of terror from what he knew was a bad future making itself known. He didn’t know where he was, when he was, what had happened and what still could.  It was a miracle his glasses didn’t come off in the flurry.

“Darlin, it’s alright, I got you.” Warm hands clasped one of his own and as he came down from the terror, reoriented himself in time he found his head resting on Ducks chest, heartbeat steady and reassuring. Woke up to find Duck had made breakfast (which in this case meant toast and coffee for him and poptarts for Indrid), and the man spent the better part of the day with him, simply keeping him company.

Then there had been another night, where Duck had called him, panicked and afraid for reasons that came out garbled but it didn’t matter because he was in distress and that was reason enough for Indrid to drive across town. He’d found Duck in his room on the top floor of a house he shared with a few friends. He’d been curled up and shaking on the floor and Indrid had carefully guided him to bed, soothed and petted and listened until Duck was exhausted enough to sleep. Indrid was tempted to slip his glasses off and cuddle Duck to him in his Sylph form, shield him from the world with his wings. But it didn’t take foresight to know that wouldn’t have gone well.

The next morning Duck had rolled over in the small bed, nuzzling Indrids cheek as he asked if he wanted to go to breakfast. Duck took him to a diner around the corner, insisted on paying, before quietly asking if Indrid had anywhere he needed to be that day. Indrid shook his head. Which is how they ended up cuddled on the floor of Ducks room watching movies on his computer, and at some point kisses on the cheek became kisses on the lips and then Indrid was in Ducks lap, grinding and purring as Duck fucked him.

It was Ducks willingness to spend whole days, sometimes multiple days in a row, with him that had made Indrid first consider the offer he was going to make. It worried him that if Duck spent too much time with him he’d have little left for other clients and not be able to make ends meet, and Indrid would hate to be the cause of that. But when he thought about going back to only seeing Duck for an hour or two each week his heart clenched so tightly in his chest he had to sit down.

And so, he decided to force the moment to its crisis.

——————————–

He sees from the futures that Duck lets himself in to the house, so he’s not surprised when there’s a low whistle from behind him as he adjusts his tie in the mirror.

“Damn, you clean up pretty nice, sugar. Didn’t think you even owned a tie.”

“I own exactly one. And believe me, if they ever invent pajama pants that can be worn as formal wear, I shall burn my remaining slacks.” He turns with a smile, finds Duck leaning against the door of the bedroom, openly admiring him. His shirt is dark green and well fitting, his pants accentuating his assets, and Indrid has to remind himself that they have a reservation to keep and that he can’t bend him over the nearest flat surface without making them late.

“Stay with me, darlin, you’re gettin that far off look.” Duck grins, crossing to him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Sorry, merely thinking about how good you look.”

Duck blushes, a sight Indrid will never tire of.

“So we’re goin out to the fanciest place in town just because, huh?”

“I don’t need an occasion to take you somewhere nice, do I?”

“Nah,” Duck rests his head on Indrids shoulder, “but do you want one?”

Indrid sees what’s coming , but nods anyway because he wants to see Ducks face light up as he says-

“I got the job, Indrid. I’m gonna be a park ranger.”

“Oh my sweet, that’s wonderful!” He kisses Duck, bumps their noses together as he says, “I hope they know how lucky they are to have hired you.”

“Just hope they like me enough to bump me from part-time to full eventually.”

“I haven’t a doubt they will. I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.”

Duck hugs him tighter, smiling into his shoulder before he breaks away.

“C’mon, darlin, let’s go celebrate.”

———————————-

One of the reasons Indrid chose this restaurant is that it has private dining booths, with a light to signal to the staff when the occupants do (or do not) need to be disturbed. He’d wanted somewhere safe from prying ears to ask Duck what he plans to.

Duck seems to have some ideas for how to exploit that privacy as well, if the look he gives Indrid as he scoots next to him is anything to go by.

“Dessert?”

“Of course, I can smell caramelized sugar from the kitchen and it’s driving me wild.”

“Would,’t want to deprive you of sugar, sugar.” Duck trails a finger along Indrids thigh, “but I had somethin else in mind before that.”

Indrid bites back a moan as a new future makes itself known.

“What did you ha-OH, ohhhhmph.” Indrid shoves his napkin against his mouth as Duck drops to his knees under the table, unzips his pants, and palms at him.

“Want me to suck your dick?”

“What ahHahh kind of question is that?” Indrid wiggles his hips and Duck snickers, reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a condom.

“Just checkin.” He frees Indrids cock and rolls the condom down before licking a stripe up it. He takes the head in his mouth and sucks. Indrid shoves the napkin against his mouth, but he’s not fast enough to stifle a chirp.

“You make such fuckin cute sounds sometimes.” Duck says with a smirk before returning to his previous activity and Indrid manages to keep it together until Duck moans, the sensation of that on his cock making him bang his knee against the table.

“You doin okay up there?” Duck licks his lips.

“Yes, very okay, please, please sweetheart.” He whispers, one hand in Ducks hair as he hungrily runs his tongue across the tip as his hand works the shaft, “I’m so, oh goodness, Duck, yes yes.” He cums with a muffled moan that dies out into a soft chirp. Duck tidies him up, joins him back in the circular booth and cuddles up next to him.

“Always wanted to try that.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” Indrid kisses his cheek, flips the light so the waiter knows they’re ready to order.

It’s only after they’ve finished dessert that Indrid takes Ducks hand (and a deep breath).

“Duck there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Yeah?” Ducks eyes shine expectantly. Indrid draws his mind away from any futures, focuses only on the present.

“I sense that I am your favorite, well, client. I want to know how much it would cost to become your only client.”

Duck blinks at him for a moment. And then his face falls, and he drops his gaze into his lap, unlacing their fingers as he does.

“I uh, I’ll. I’ll need to uh, to think. About that.”

His comments stay that stilted while they pay and leave, and as they drive back he focuses his eyes out the window. This tells Indrid two things: whatever Duck is feeling, he’s terrified of saying and so he’s avoiding saying anything at all. And, more importantly, Indrid has royally screwed up.

Once they’re inside Duck heads into the kitchen, grabs a glass for water but can’t hold it steady enough given how his hands are shaking.

“Duck please tell me what’s wrong.”

“N-nope. I ain’t gonna say anythin becuase what I want to say is awful foolish in hindsight.”

“I don’t care. Please say it anyway?”

Duck rests his hands on the counter.

“I, I thought, when you said you wanted to ask me somethin that you were gonna ask…” He looks up and Indrid can see the tears, “I thought you were gonna ask me to be your boyfriend, tell me you didn’t want to bother with the client stuff anymore.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“I didn’t realize that was an option.”

“What?”

“I assumed your affection towards me was still, on some level, part of a professional exchange. I didn’t dare assume you actually-”

“Liked you? Jesus, Indrid, do you think I’m that good at fakin shit? I’ve been fallin for you for the better part of three months and that’s like rookie fuck-up number one in this line of work but I couldn’t stand the idea of not seein you again and I thought maybe you felt the same way and, and, fuck, Indrid, half the stuff we’ve done when we fucked is stuff I don’t do with other clients because I trust you in a way I don’t trust them and I, I, fuck.” He sinks down behind the counter and Indrid hurries to the other side of it to find him sitting, defeated, on the floor with his head in his hands.

Indrid carefully sits down in front of him.

“Duck, look at me. Please.”

Duck meets his eyes.

“We want the same thing, my sweet. I was simply too afraid to consider that option, and I didn’t mean for that to hurt you and for that I am sorry.”

That glimmer of hope returns to Ducks eyes.

“I would like to be your boyfriend, Duck Newton, if you would like to be mine.”

“I would, darlin, so fuckin much.”

Indrid surges forward and kisses him, Duck laughing against his lips. By the time they make it off the floor and into the bedroom they’re each half-dressed.  Duck’s still laughing intermittently, glee radiating from his body as Indrid pushes him backwards and crawls on top of him.

“Mine” Indrid growls, pinning his shoulders down. Something flashes across the younger mans face and he worries that was too far.

“Yeah, darlin, all yours.” Duck drags a kiss up Indrids neck, voice thick with desire.

“Do you like that, my sweet? The idea that you are mine and mine alone?”

“Uh huh, god, sugar, so much.”

Indrid begins methodically kissing his way down Ducks chest and stomach, yanks down his boxers so he can kiss and lick at his thighs.

“And what shall I do with you, since you’re all mine?”

“Bite me.” Duck pleads and Indrid raises his head to look at him in surprise.  They usually have to avoid that activity even though they both enjoy it, as some of Ducks clients won’t tolerate any sign that he’s been with someone else.

“Pleeease” Duck whimpers and Indrid growls again, sinks his teeth into Ducks thigh. Does it again and again until his left thigh is coated in hickeys and bite marks. Switches to the right thigh, occasionally gliding up to nip at his soft belly. By the time he’s finished Duck is tugging at his hair, moaning and pleading with hips thrusting in the air

“Kisses, want, Indrid.”

Indrid clambers back up him and kisses him ferociously, pulls back to run his tongue along Ducks swollen, perfect lips.

“Shall I tie you up, my sweet, so you can be utterly at my mercy?”

Duck nods frantically and Indrid rolls off the bed, grabbing his preferred pair of handcuffs. Ducks hands are already above his head, next to the headboard, by the time Indrid returns.

“So good for me, my sweet Duck.” He cuffs him to the headboard, tilts his chin up with his finger so their eyes meet.

“Indrid…” There’s no direction of the sigh, it’s simply a sound of pleasure.

“I’m going to coat your skin in marks now, and when you’re a screaming, begging mess, I’m going to ride you until I come on that lovely skin because you are mine.” He drops his head down to Ducks neck and sucks a bruise there, threading his fingers into that dark hair so he can pull his head back for better access.

“Darlin, yesOHFUCK, fuckAHnnnn.”

“I do so love the sound of your voice.”

Duck makes a noise that may have been a word at some point. Indrid sets about placing hickeys across his collar bone, his chest, his neck and after about ten minutes the man beneath him is a mess. When Indrid finally rolls down the condom he groans in thanks, cants his hips up and nudges at Indrids entrance with the head of his cock.

“Patience.”

“I’m bein patient” Another nudge, accompanied by a teasing smile. Indrid toys with making him wait longer for that, but he’s so wound up himself that he decides against it, begins carefully working the cock into him (he’s still somewhat prepared from the solo session he had before Duck arrived). When its fully seat he takes a moment to breath, runs his hands across the expanse of Ducks chest.

“So handsome. And all mine.”

“Damn right. You gonna do anythin about it or OHShiiit, oh fucknevermind.” Duck gasps as Indrid shifts up and down, moans spilling from his throat at the feeling of Duck inside him. Duck can only move his hips so much and so Indrid controls the pace, slow at first and then gaining speed and roughness.

“That’s it my sweet, that’s it, let me use this perfect cock until I can’t. Fucking.see.” He moves sharply on those last three words and Duck cries out. Indrid drops forward, swallowing the noises and letting his cock rut between their stomachs and then he comes, teeth biting at Ducks lip.

“‘M so close, darlin, pleaseplease.”

“Shhh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He grinds down, works his hips with no small amount of effort even as he body goes oversensitive but Duck’s been so good and he wants to see him come, wants to tear every delicious sound from that throat as he rides him.

“Fuckohfuck, Indrid, Indrid yes.” He cums with a choked sound and Indrid waits until the last tremors pass through him to climb off.  He undoes the cuffs, settles in the crook of Ducks arm.

“Jesus, that was, uh, y’know.” Duck pants, arm wrapping around Indrids shoulder.

“Not quite, but I can guess.”

“Smartass.” Duck kisses him, fondly, before looking at the state of his legs, “damn, did a number on me.”

“You did ask.”

“That I did. I’m probably gonna stop doin the escortin thing once I start at the park. Mostly scared word’d get out and I’d get fired. Might pick up some shifts at the co-op that buddy of yours owns, since he said I oughta apply if I needed to.”

“Barclay’s excellent to work for, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it’ll be enough to manage the debt and shit.”

Indrid hums, thoughtfully. He’d offer to pay it off for Duck, but he’s done that once before and Duck had seemed deeply uncomfortable with the idea. But there are other ways. Such as the two men who had been hired to steal and destroy a few filing cabinets worth of debt records along with their digital copies, enough on either side of Ducks name for him not to become the target of suspicion.

But Indrid doesn’t dwell on that thought now, instead nestles close to his boyfriend as he animatedly talks about his new job and eventually falls asleep, dreaming of all the tomorrows stretched out before them.