#I have more but maybe for another time damn

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[chvoswxtch]

a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [series masterlist]

Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively. 

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone. 

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl. 

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?” 

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis. 

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze. 

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question. 

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question. 

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek. 

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling. 

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly. 

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned. 

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[trueebeauty]

It's a regular afternoon at U.A., and you're in the training grounds with your boyfriend, the one and only Bakugo Katsuki. He's been working on a new move, all explosive power and razor-sharp precision. You, on the other hand, have been practicing your own quirk, pushing your limits.

Maybe you pushed a little too hard.

"Shit!" you hiss as your quirk backfires. A sharp pain lances up your arm, and you look down to see a nasty cut, blood welling up in crimson beads.

Bakugo's head snaps around at your curse. His crimson eyes widen a fraction - to anyone else, it would be imperceptible, but you know him well enough to see the flash of concern. "Oi!" he barks, stomping over. "The hell did you do?"

You wince, both at the pain and his volume. "Pushed too hard, I guess."

He scowls, but it's his worried scowl, not his angry one. Roughly gentle, he takes your arm, inspecting the cut. "Tch. Dumbass. You're supposed to go beyond your limits, not break yourself."

The cut stings, and honestly, you're feeling a bit shaken. Training accidents happen, but still...

"It's just a scratch," you say, trying for nonchalance.

Bakugo snorts. "That's not a fucking scratch, you idiot." But his touch is gentle as he takes your arm, inspecting the wound. "Recovery Girl's gonna have a field day with this."

You wince, not just from the pain but at the thought of another lecture on caution. Bakugo notices - of course he does, he notices everything about you - and his scowl deepens.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging you up. "Let's get this cleaned up before you bleed all over the damn place."

“Recovery Girl's probably busy with the other extras. I've got a first aid kit in my room."

You nod, letting him lead you back to the dorms. His grip on your good hand is firm, grounding. This is Bakugo's way of comfort - not soft words, but solid presence.

In his room, he sits you on his bed and kneels in front of you. The first aid kit appears from a drawer, and he gets to work.

"Stay still," Bakugo grunts, rummaging through the kit. "And don't bleed on my sheets."

You snort. "Sorry, I'll try to control my involuntary bodily functions."

"Tch. Smartass." But there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile.

He pulls out an antiseptic wipe, tearing the packet open with his teeth. "This'll sting," he warns, his rough voice softening.

"I can handle it," you say bravely. But when the antiseptic touches your wound, you can't help but hiss. "Ow!"

"Crybaby," Bakugo mutters. But his movements slow, his touch becoming feather-light. "Thought you could handle it?"

"Shut up," you grumble, but there's no heat in it. You're too busy marveling at how gentle he's being.

His hands, so destructive in battle, are surprisingly deft as he cleans every inch of the cut. You watch him work, mesmerized by the contrast. These hands that can level buildings are now treating you like you're made of glass.

"What?" he asks, noticing your stare.

"Nothing," you murmur. "Just... you're good at this."

He shrugs, but you catch the pleased glint in his eyes. "Can't have my boyfriend bleeding out because they can't dress a damn wound."

"Your boyfriend, huh?" you tease. It's still new, this thing between you, and every time he acknowledges it, your heart skips.

Bakugo's cheeks dust pink. "Don't," he growls, but there's no bite. He's too focused on wrapping your arm in a clean bandage.

"Not too tight?" he asks, voice gruff but eyes soft.

You flex your fingers. "It's perfect. Thanks, Katsuki."

He nods, sitting back on his heels. His thumb brushes over the bandage, a touch so light you almost think you imagined it. But then he looks up at you, and the raw emotion in his crimson eyes steals your breath.

"Don't do that again," he says quietly. "Getting hurt. It's... it pisses me off."

You understand what he's not saying. In Bakugo-speak, 'it pisses me off' means 'it scares me'. You reach out with your good hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into it, just a fraction.

"I'll be more careful," you promise. "Can't have the great Katsuki Bakugo worrying about little old me, right?"

"Damn right," he mutters, but he's leaning in now, forehead resting against your knee. It's as close to vulnerable as Bakugo gets.

You card your fingers through his spiky hair, marveling at how soft it is. For a moment, the world shrinks to just this: you and Bakugo, his hands now resting gently on your thighs.

"Hey, Katsuki?" you whisper.

He grunts in response, not moving.

You hold out your newly bandaged arm. "Kiss it better?"

Bakugo freezes. He looks up at you, one ash-blond eyebrow arching high. "That's not my fucking quirk," he says, voice dry as the desert.

But you see it - the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks, the way his eyes soften just a fraction. You've got him on the ropes, and you both know it.

"Please?" you whine, pouting for extra effect. "It really hurts, Kacchan."

He glares at you, but there's no real heat in it. "You're such a damn baby," he mutters. But he's already lifting your arm, his calloused fingers achingly gentle.

Bakugo brings your arm to his lips. He presses a kiss to the bandage, feather-light. Then another, and another, trailing up your arm. His lips are warm, a bit chapped from his quirk. Each kiss feels like a tiny spark, but the good kind, the kind that lights you up inside.

"There," he grunts, cheeks now definitely red. "Happy now?"

You hum contentedly, but you're not done yet. Leaning in, you whisper, "You know... I think I've got a scar on my lips too."

Bakugo's eyes widen, then narrow. "You little shit," he breathes, "You planned this, didn't you?"

"No," you admit, grinning. "But I want it."

He knows you're playing him, but oh, does he want to be played. "You're pushing it," he growls, but he's already leaning in.

"You love it," you whisper against his lips.

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he kisses you, and it's nothing like the gentle pecks on your arm. This is pure Bakugo - fierce, passionate, a little bit explosive. His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing your cheek, while the other pulls you against him.

When you part, you're both breathless. Bakugo rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. "You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters, but there's no heat in it. Just a grudging acceptance that yes, he'd let you lead him anywhere.

You grin, nuzzling into his neck. "I love you too.”

He snorts, but his arms tighten around you. 

[darkness-follows]

Wade x f!reader oneshot request?

This idea has been stewing in my mind for a bit and I would love to see your take on it!!!

A one-shot where he's nervous about the reader inviting him over her place.

Maybe she starts making a move but he is excited/nervous but wants his "first time" with a woman since his wife's passing to be savored and slow/sensual.

The reader then asks him to show what he likes ~ touching himself while telling the reader how he likes to be touched in bed, leading to a smuty good time for the reader?

Thank you so much!!!!

WHAT A COOL IDEA THANK YOU!

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Hope this does it justice:

[Hey Wade, lets say my place? 8pm?]

Wade stares at the phone in his hands, fuck!

He checks the time again, 6.15 pm. Fuck.

Of course it's enough time to get himself ready but it's not enough time to mentally prepare for that date. That kind of date. It's their..oh he lost count already, maybe 5th or 6th date?

"Wow you look like you've seen a ghost Wade" Forrest huffs. Wade doesn't answer he just shows him his phone.

"Oh Holy shit! Oh my god...it's a sex date!" Forrest slaps his hand over his mouth and does a little excited jump. He's happier about this than Wade is. "Oh is that bad? Are you not ready?" He worries.

"I uh, I.. I don't know man, I haven't really..I mean she's great! You know like great but I didn't think of..-" He frowns deeply, it's a part of dating it's normal. People date and have some casual Sex just to..to see if they match right?

Right.

"Wade you got this, our girls can hang, we keep an eye and you go and have.. fun!" Forrest smirks.

"Really?"

"Yes really. Promise" Forrest adds.

"Okay! I gotta get ready, i gotta..I gotta shave and shower and...- RAID my entire damn closet"

And then Wade is off.

"Shave? He doesn't have any facial..- oh!" Forrest shuts himself up after that.

Wade really scrubbed himself squeaky clean, hes also wearing a Brand New pair of jeans which probably wasn't the smartest move as they seem incredibly tight in all the wrong places. But he still sits in his car in front of his dates house, he managed to go, to go really out and do it.. and at exactly 8pm he rings the doorbell. Shifting from one leg to the other, god he's sweating! That's bad! He's so nervous he's even thinking about running away right now.

When the door opens his face lights up.

"Wade!" You smile wide, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tight 'god does he smell good' .

You missed him, you missed a lot. "You okay? You look a bit wound up" He looks like he ran here.

Wade hugs you back just as tightly, pretending not to breathe in deeply when his face is in your hair, that shampoo is such a known and comforting scent by now.

"I'm golden! I swear, just ran a bit hot in the car" He tries to play his nervousness down, a lot. Stepping inside and then you two carry on with the date idea you had, sort of watching the first Episode of a new Show you two have been dying to see with popcorn and cuddles... very nice and sensual cuddles. It feels really good, having your head against his shoulder. Feeling the weight of his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking a rhythm into your skin.

After the episode ends you move your head slowly closer to his, giving him a gentle kiss while both your lips still taste of that sweet and sugary popcorn. You wanted this from the day you two met, to just cuddle and makeout and more.. he's such a wonderful man, everything he does is a slight turn on. Even if it's just taking his glasses off so he's able to kiss you back deeper, or sucking his fingertips clean after his bowl of popcorn.

You shift slowly, feeling his hand on your hip.

Moving yourself onto his lap.

He pulls away from the kiss, standing up "You want some water?? I uh, I gotta im really...- dry throat!" He coughs a bit and shrugs running off to the kitchen.

Hm.

When he returns you eye him carefully, pulling him on his belt to sit back down next to you.

When you lean in for another kiss he takes a big sip of his water, once he puts it down you wipe your thumb over his wet lips. "You sure your okay? Your not getting sick are you?" He's really warm so you place your palm onto his head. But he isn't hot there at all, Interesting.

"I'm..-" He takes a deep breath. He meant to say he's fine but..he's not and it wouldn't be fair to pretend that he is.

"I'm really nervous, about..-" He makes a funny hand gesture between the two of you.

"Oh.." You sit back once you notice.

"It's just been a while and I haven't been with anyone since.. -" He stops talking.

"We don't have to Wade! God im so sorry, please don't feel pressured!" You should have thought of that but you were too busy thinking about how he's driving you crazy lately.

"No no! It's okay I...- I want to" He smiles softly. "God believe me I really do, im just so nervous about it, I know sex. I know how to have great sex ! I mean I've been having sex since i was 18. That's a long time! I just haven't had sex with you and you make me..- god you make me so incredibly nervous" He sighs.

Its a strange but nice compliment, that you make him that nervous and that he's honest how difficult it is to sleep with someone after his wife died. It helps you to approach this with a full heart and empathy, pushing the need you have for him down a bit.

"Slow and steady?" You smile.

"YES! Yes....slow." He nods, staring at your lips and then your hands. Taking your right hand into his and that gives you an idea.

"Why don't you Show me Wade? Show me exactly what you like. I want this to be perfect for you" You squeeze his big hand gently.

His face turns a whole different shade of Red, it spreads to his ears and his chest. It's insanely difficult to not lean in for a heated kiss again. "Show you how?" He asks even though you are pretty sure he knows the answer to that.

"Move your hands on yourself the way you like to be touched so I can do it later.." your voice got a bit deeper and lower, it's beautiful to watch him fight the nervousness in this throat and hands. He gives you a quick nod. Moving his hands to his thighs, slowly running them up and down.

"I'm..- I'm sensitive on my thighs. It's little squeezes or moving a hand up slowly that really gets me" He sighs softly under your gaze. You take in the way he runs his right hand up his inner thigh, stopping before he gets too close to his crotch and then he moves it back down.

"Your doing great, show me more" You sit next to him on your knees. Hands on your thighs.

"I gotta take this off I think to show you..." He tugs at his shirt.

"Take it off if you feel comfortable enough." You throw him another warm smile and he nods. Tugging at the neck of his shirt and then he pulls it over his head, folding it neatly instead of tossing it somewhere.

The heat spread over his chest is intoxicating and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss his grey chest hair.

You keep a note on how his hand is still running along his own thigh, it looks like a big self soothing kind of touch.

Wade moves his other hand flat onto his chest, spreading his fingers through his chest hair and running his palm over his sternum. "That's where I feel that anxious bubble up sometimes and just running a palm along here calms me down, a lot, it's also nice when that hand wanders and squeezes my chest or uhm" He runs his thumb over his own nipple, a Sound comes out of him that suprises you a bit.

"Or that yeah" He chuckles and it slowly feels like he's calming down some.

"You are really sensitive aren't you?" It's torture at this point to keep your hands to yourself.

"I'd call it responsive? Just really react to everything very intensely and that's great! I mean it can be amazing but when it's something I don't like I just..- I react heavily to that too" He frowns a bit.

"I understand that. I get why it's so difficult, thank you for telling me Wade, seriously. I only want you to feel good." You point out.

You can see how crazy nervous it would make someone, being with the same woman for 20 years, she knew exactly how to touch him.. and now that's gone and readjusting such a set in Stone routine seems impossibly difficult.

It would be difficult for yourself too. And maybe over time you can do small tiny little changes and he Blooms again and tries out more things again. You'd love to see that Version of him.

"Thank you for being so patient with me" Wade leans closer this time, this time he's the one pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply. And it really does feel better this way.

He feels a lot more into it then he did before.

When he breaks off the kiss you don't chase it, you let him continue to show you.

"Of course.." You whisper. Watching his hands work on his belt and zipper, god now the room suddenly got really really hot. The moan that comes rumbling out of his throat when he moves his hand into his briefs is sinful.

"God Wade, you look so beautiful right now. I don't think you even know how insanely hot you are, everything you do gets me. Especially watching you getting more and more comfortable for me, can I please touch you? Like one of the ways you showed me?" You can't take this anymore..

"I've never felt this way before, never touched myself that way, so please do" Wade huffs. He doesn't even think of himself as that sexy.

You nod and place your hand onto his chest just like he showed you, pressing your palm into his sternum while his hand strokes his cock in his underwear. Christ.

Your other hand moves to his thigh, tracing the inside up and down. "Like that?" You ask.

"Yes..exactly like that sweetheart" He sighs deeply and leans in for another kiss. While you kiss you can feel his hand slowly reaching out to take yours, you didn't expect that at all but he replaces his hand with yours and suddenly you have a insanely warm, thick and hard as a Rock cock in your hand. You pull back from the kiss, and the expression on his face makes your thighs clench together.

"You want to give me some more notes here Wade?" A big smirk is on your lips while you carefully move your hand up and down his lenght.

But Wade shakes his head "I..uh, I got nothing to add you are doing it perfectly" and for a moment you can see something almost like disbelieve in his eyes. That he can't believe he found a woman who knows exactly how to touch him the way he really likes it. This whole dating and finding out thing must have been really hard.

"Tell me what you like, please, it's been so about me I don't want you to feel left out!" Wade holds his hand above your thighs not too sure if he can touch or not. "I don't feel that way at all, I really want to just please you Wade, I want you to feel great and im sure whatever way you have me I'd be fantastic" You smile again when he grabs your thigh and kisses your cheek and your bodies slowly shift on the couch.

Until you find yourself underneath him, spreading your legs for him while your hand still slowly strokes up and down his cock.

His hands run up your sides, it feels like he's really taking in everything, the way you look on your back and how your clothes fall, the way your legs are at his sides. He really is a pretty slow and sensual guy, this is going to be a wild time for sure.

Your hand carefully moves out of his pants, keeping your hands to yourself for now. You have a feeling this really is only about you right now. You watch his fingers open the buttons on your thin shirt, one by one, he's being so slow and careful with it. You wear a simple top underneath which frames your chest pretty nicely, which, following his eyes he noticed.

Then he looks into your eyes "You are beautiful, really, breathtaking" He whispers. Helping you out of your shirt and out of your top as well. It's a good thing you decided on the dark blue bra and dark blue pair of lace panties tonight. His fingers stroke over the Material of the cup around your breast. These slow exploring touches really set your body on fire.

Then Wade opens yours pants, drags them slowly down your thighs and leans back to pull them off your feet. Both of his hands trace your leg back up from your ankles to your hips. Nobody ever took this much time appreciating your body before.

"You still okay? You can tell me when you want to stop Wade.." You stroke a hand over his cheek and the look on his face is adoreable. "I'm perfect, I was so nervous about this whole thing and now? Now I want to touch every inch of you, kiss every inch of you.." He whispers, leaning down to press his lips onto yours again and you move your hands back to how he showed you he likes it.

During that slow and Intense kiss you can feel his hand wander over your body again. Cupping your still clothed breast and then he drags it over your stomach, and then between your legs. His fingers stroke over the Material of your underwear and you wish your weren't wearing it anymore. It's almost as if that's what he's exactly teasing at, his fingers softly press against the fabric and you start to feel some mild friction.

His lips wander from your mouth to your neck.

"You are driving me crazy" You whisper and his fingers dig a bit deeper into your underwear. The way his lips trace your skin is so steady, so warm, so comfortable. He really meant it, wanting to kiss every inch of you. Against your will your hips move up just a little to meet more friction and instead of making you behave Wade moves his hand into your underwear, doing the exact same thing but now his two fingers rub against skin! "Wade...-" You moan out.

His fingers stroke over your clit but so painfully slow that there is no way you could ever cum from that and you are starting to think that's the whole purpose of doing it all so slow. He's savoring the moment while driving you absolutely crazy at the same time. And that works perfectly for the both of you.

Your hand wanders back into his underwear as well, stroking your hand over his cock just like she showed you. And when he moans you squirm underneath him, god that was the hottest moan you ever heard.

Wade really forgot how great it felt to be touched just exactly right by someone, when that gear just flips and everything they do is an instant turn on.. he missed that feeling, he missed that feeling so very much. He doesn't feel guilty anymore about seeking what he desires and getting what he needs, he needs a new emotional connection to someone, he really needs to be intimate with someone again. He’s truly happy that he found you. And he will make damn sure to show you his appreciation as best as he possibly can.

“Take it to the next step when you feel ready Wade okay?” You need to make sure he's okay. You can't even imagine how much meaning this has for him, how he's scared of it and how much he craves it at the same time.

When he nods and pulls back you can hear your own heart pounding in your chest. It's really happening..- After all these dates and getting to know someone, you finally get to know Wade all the way.

When he takes off every last piece of your and his clothing and suddenly you both are just…naked, on the couch. Overcome by a small wave of shyness you hesitate with opening your legs again for him, it was a different thing while you still had your bra and underwear on. Now everything is so vulnerable.

His hands stroke up your thighs and the look in his eyes asks for silent permission. Despite the nervous throbbing in your body you open your legs slowly and his hands get a hold on your hips while his body moves between your thighs.

He places the sweetest and deepest kiss onto your lips while his hand guides himself to your heated, longing core.

“Wade..” You move your hands to his face. Kissing his lips.

“You mean the World to me, if at any point you change your mind about this please tell me, we’re gonna be okay. I promise” his face lights up into a pure smile, you can see the youth in him, his age not suiting him at the moment at all, he looks like a young man drowned in love and it causes you to melt right underneath him.

“We’re gonna be okay..-” He repeats before he places his tip against you, never has a man pushed himself into you this slowly. Everytime you think that's gonna be it another inch disappears inside of you, your legs slowly wrap around his waist and when he's all the way inside he stops moving his entire body.

He's so quiet it would worry if you wouldn't know that he's going to open up if anything ever bothers him.

He feels incredible. He feels so comfortable. He gives your body enough time to accept him, to adjust to him, it's a perfect fit and somehow you knew it would be.

You didn't expect him to lift his head and look at you, holding your gaze when he starts to move his hips so carefully and gently.

Drawing a deep and long moan out of you.

Not knowing he enjoys it that slow has you melting even further into the couch, what a cruel beauty it is, every movement gets dragged out and the body building up to some kind of grand release goes on and on and on…

Almost as if there is no end in sight. But it's heaven, feeling him so closely, feeling the steady weight and gentle drag of his cock deep inside of you while he kisses your skin and moans the occasional word into your ear is heaven. The time he's able to pull while he keeps this up, keeps this so slow.. it feels like you are dreaming, as if you are connected for hours.

You touch him the way he showed you again, hand pressing and stroking over his chest when you get surprised by a deep moan. His hips barely change pace but it's enough to have you clawing at his shoulders. You can't take the building up to it anymore, he's so easily moving in and almost out of you because it made you incredibly wet to have this feeling last this long. You worry about cleaning the couch pillows tomorrow… for now all you want is his release, you need to look into his eyes when he finally spills into your body and lets go of this weight on his shoulders. Of this guilt he's been carrying for simply being a human being with needs and desires.

Your hands move his head gently closer to yours. “You're okay Wade, you're fine..- let go for me Baby.. I promise we're gonna be just fine” You press a kiss onto his cheek and then onto his other. He nods and places his lips onto yours when he thrusts just the smallest bit harder, and that added speed makes you clench around him, makes your back arch slightly off the couch while you loudly moan out his name.. “Wade…oh, fuck! Wade…” Your body is shaking from that orgasm. That pleasure. Like an elastic Band that just suddenly snapped and right after you feel him, you feel his cum fill you up while his hands clutch your hips and his head falls onto your shoulder. The moans coming out of him as he thrusts his full release into you almost sound broken, his first time since his wife passed that he made love to a woman again. That's how these moans Sound like.

When his hips stop moving you pull him into a close hug.

“God…-” He sighs deeply. “Oh why did I wait this long!” He mumbles, placing kisses onto your shoulder and collarbone. “That was incredible. Wow.” He lifts his head to finally look at you again. The mood is easy, he seems so happy, so lit up by finally letting go of this. Getting it over with so to speak. Moving on..

“It was pretty good.” You tease softly.

“How uh, how good?” He bites his tongue with a huff “You know what? Nevermind. I don't think I wanna know!” He shrugs.

“Well we can do it again…and again..and-” He kisses you deeply, starved, as if the two of you didn't just finish. “You bet sweetheart, you better be ready for that fire you started” He smirks wide. “Oh easy now cowboy!” You laugh and he kisses your head. “How about some hot coco and another Episode of this show?” He suggests. “That sounds amazing, but..- Stay for a bit? With me? Like this?” You run your hands over his back and his sides.

“Anything for you love, thank you for being so patient and..- understanding. You made me very very happy” Wade places another kiss onto your cheek before you two hold each other tightly again. You could seriously fall asleep like this, it's the most comfortable you have felt in a while…a long while.

“It was my pleasure Wade” You smile.

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Hey thank you for reading and I really hope I did this prompt justice, also my very first time writing as Wade Felton !!!! Ahhh.

I did not read this for any mistakes yet so don't point out my probably plenty mistakes! Haha.

Tags: @toogaytofunctiondangit

[edgeray]

BENEATH THE MASK

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Have this Father's Day special oneshot.  Not a request, sorry guys, hope that's okay. Decided to take a break from requests tonight <33. Superhero AU because I've somehow never written enemies to lovers in my fanfiction career ever??? Fake fanfic writer right here🧍. (and no, dragon arlecchino x dragon hunter reader don't count). Hopefully this is good?   enemies to lovers villain arlecchino x hero reader, aka, is it gay to sleep in the same bed as your enemy? Your hero name is Rover, because heheh wuwa reference.  Might make a part 2 if someone wants it.  EDIT at 2AM: GUYS FUCKING SAVE ME I JUST SAW ONE OF THOSE CREEPY AF HOUSE CENTIPEDES WHILE I WAS WRITING AND NOW MY ENTIRE BODY IS TINGLY STOP OMG IDK WHERE IT IS SEND HELP OR ELSE I WILL BURN THE ENTIRE HOUSE DOWN. MAYBE THE POWER OF GAY WILL SCARE IT AWAY Content warnings / info - arlecchino is mean and threatens you, arlecchino's pov, gn! reader, 2.2k words

A knock sounds on the front door, making Arlecchino pause in the midst of her meal. A visitor? Certainly, there’s no one she was expecting today, especially at–Arlecchino glances at the clock– 9:18PM. Anyone who she would allow to visit her would text or call beforehand. Should she just pretend that she's not there? Frowning, she sets down the fork on the table. Damn it, she really should install cameras already but she always pushes it back. 

Cautiously peering through the eye hole, her breath hitches and her eyes widen. If she had a heart, it would have sunk into her stomach. Her hands fly to the door handle, unlocking it and flinging it open. 

At her doorstep, you stand there, blood staining your torn and ripped suit as you clutch your arm. There's a knife lodged in your shoulder, and she could see your face– scratched up and bruised. Your pupils are foggy and your expression seems far away, hardly able to direct your attention onto her. Upon seeing her, an abnormal smile finds your face, then, your knees buckle and you tumble into her arms. She catches you effortlessly, slotting her arms behind your back and tugging you into her chest. You go boneless in her grasp.

“What the hell happened to you, Rover?” She demands through gritted teeth while she glances down at you. She carries you into her house, closing the door with a swift kick, doing her best to haul you into her living room and setting you down to lay on her couch. Your blood seeps into the furniture. You wince at the new movement, sharply inhaling.

“Got… into f-fight. With some, some new guy. Real asshole he was. Fucked… fucked him up pretty good,” you force out in between your labored breathing, before you cough out more blood. Your eyes flit over her form.

“Heh… nice sleepwear,” you remark with a trembling, cunning smile. “Who would have known… the notorious Knave sleeps in Hello Kitty pants… you're a lot less scary now… you know? Nice place as well…” 

Arlecchino proceeds to ignore your comment. “How did you find me? Why did you come here? Do you have a fucking death wish, Rover?” She presses on, her hardened features showing no hint of empathy or concern. 

“I'm… smarter than you think. And… I came because… hell, if I know.” You wetly cough. “Didn't have… anywhere else.” 

The two of you know that she won't kill you, at least not now. For as often you found one another on opposite sides, the two of you have come to understand each other. 

Arlecchino breathes in deeply through her nose, processing her enemy's word. Rover has always been a major hindrance in her plans– a constant rose thorn in her side for years, but she always appreciates your grit and strength. You've battled her tens of times, and each fight she can't deny the exhilaration she feels. She's yet to beat you and the vice versa is the same. A frequent dance between players of different sides, somehow the two of you always found the other in each other's paths. It would be romantic if it wasn't outright irritating.  

Only you could truly challenge you and for that it's why the pitiful state you're in disturbs her to no end. You can't die, not here, not now, not when it's not by her hands. She will pry your last breath with her own hands, she will not allow anyone else to have that honor. She wants to see what kind of expression you'd make when she snuffs out your final bit of life. It would be so easy to end you here. To wrap her claws around your pretty neck, watch your pathetic attempts of struggle, savor the despair in your eyes, oh how easy it would be. 

But if there was anything the Knave was, it was not a freeloader. She will not take other people's efforts and use them to further her own goals, which she will strive for by herself alone. If she killed you here, her own dignity would be singed. 

There will come a day when the Rover is brought down, and the perpetrator will be clear: her. Until then, your survival is of the utmost importance, and next? To pay this scum a lesson of who can touch her angel and it is certainly not him. 

“Who is this new villain that's sprung up?”  She questions as she walks to the bathroom, grabbing her first aid kit, cotton balls, and some alcohol. 

“Get this. The Doctor…” The hero then chuckles weakly. “Massive dick.” 

“I see…” the Knave mutters as she approaches you. “Why did you come to me instead of the hospital?” 

“Closer… easier to hide…”

“He was actively hunting you?” 

“His ‘segments’ are still out there… no doubt wanting to finish the job…”

“Segments?”

“His clones.” 

“Why you?” 

“Jealous… of my good looks, maybe…?” 

Arlecchino frowns. So you don't know why. She sits down in between your legs, leaning over you as she observes you, examining any wounds she can see. A couple of cuts on your sleeves and face, a deeper laceration over your sternum, and the knife wound. At least he gave her a little keepsake, though it is just like any cheap, small knife. If he has multiple ‘segments,’ then supplying them with proper weapons would be costly… 

“Can you remove your costume?” Her finger trails over your ribs making you hiss out in agony. 

You shake your hand. “C-can't… can barely lift my arms.” 

The Knave sighs, letting her claws extend out. “I'm going to have to cut it off you.” 

 “Go ahead.”

Deliberately and precisely, she uses one claw to slice open your costume, exposing your chest to her. You flush and squirm slightly before she places the same clawed hand over your stomach, talons pricking your skin. Her fingertips feel impossibly hot, just like her blood flame abilities. Your abdomen muscles flex just from the contact and she can feel it when her frown twitches. 

“Stay still,” she gruffs, piercing red-crossed eyes bores into yours. 

“At least…take me out… to dinner first, Knave,” you snicker. 

“You're insufferable.” 

As she patches you up and tends to the various bruises and cuts you have, a silence forms between the two of you. She notices that throughout the entire interaction, you're peering at her, but not at her hands–her face. 

“Lift your hips. I need to bandage your abdomen.” 

You try to comply, but find yourself barely able to lift it past a little up. You grunt in agony, and then give her puppy eyes. The Knave is a villain. She's able to destroy the city center with the snap of her fingers, has brought down buildings with no effort, and has cremated numerous people. She is either feared by the mass or revered by scums. She would never be defeated by something as commiserable as your pleading expression.

“Do I have to do everything for you? I wonder how I've yet beat you when you're this incompetent injured,” Arlecchino huffs. Her hands grasp your hip, raising your hips until she slides your bottom over her lap, your bent knees on either side of her. The sight resembles something terribly intimate to Arlecchino, and from your flustered appearance, it seems that way to you too.

“Didn't think I would… have the Knave in between… my legs so soon,” you smirk cunningly, wiggling your hips as best as you can to further enunciate your archon-awful humor. One hand of hers finds your thigh before she grips it, claws digging through your costume and nicking into your skin. It's shallow enough to act as a warning but deep enough for you to feel it, a gesture to show that she doesn't appreciate your mouth. 

“Did you forget? We are enemies. Just because I choose not to harm you now does that mean it would be wise to provoke me.”

“Not currently.” 

That much is true. Silence fills between the two of you again. 

“You know… you would be a lot easier to look at without your mask,” you whisper. Arlecchino looks up at you, her stone cold expression betrayed by her eyes, focused intently on you. How you had the audacity to trifle with her, she's uncertain. Perhaps it's just a distraction tactic you’ve turned into a habit, though she's unaware of whether or not you use this with other villains. 

“Are you suggesting I'm rather hard to look at when I do?” She inquires.

“Quite the opposite. You would look even better, though.”

“The reason I wear a mask is the same reason you do.” Though, you don't need to wear yours right now. She already knows where you reside, and your true name. 

“We don't have to wear masks when it's just us, Arlecchino.” The villain shivers at hearing her name come from your lips; it sounds immorally ethereal, wicked to associate something so vile with something as seraphic as your voice. And that voice that's slipped past her rational, calculating thoughts whispers that she'd like to hear you say her name again. It's just as electrifying as when you bellow her villain name in fury. 

She swears that the dead heart inside her chest beats for a moment. 

She comments nothing. She doesn’t enjoy the dalliance your words seem to imply, doesn't like how the air between you becomes thick with something that inspires hunger. She physically turns away from you. 

“I've finished patching you up. Rest is the only thing you can do now. With your regeneration, you should be back to normal conditions.” 

She packs up the various medical items, slotting the items into their respective containers. She's about to get up and put them away when your hand catches her wrist, a frail grip that she can effortlessly wrench herself out. She doesn't however. 

“Do you have… anywhere else for me to rest?”

“I've tended to your wounds and you ask for more? How selfish can you be, Rover?” She frowns. 

“The blood makes it feel… sticky.” 

“You need to wash off the blood.” 

“Well… considering I can't move my arms or legs…”

You're going to make her burst a blood vessel. 

“Know that your death will be excruciating,” she sighs, and you give her a cheeky grin that she wants nothing more than to rip off your face.  

She scoops you up into her strong arms, carrying you as firmly yet tenderly as possible in order to not aggravate your wounds. She takes you upstairs to a hallway, turning to the closest door. She seats you on the edge of the bathtub and turns on the faucet, letting the tub fill with hot water. She exits the room, presumably to grab some extra clothes and towels. She returns with exactly that, setting them down on the sinker counter. 

She picks you up again, seating herself first squarely in the tub before you're placed on her lap, your back towards her. 

“I'm going to have to remove your pants.” 

“Seems unfair if I'm the only one that's going to be naked.”

“Do not make me stain my walls with your blood tonight. I prefer not having to clean up the mess.” 

“You already have to clean up the living room, what's one more?” 

She shuts you up with a loud tearing noise as she slits down the seams until finally you're left exposed to her. You gasp, squeezing your thighs. Arlecchino takes note of this, a small smile disappearing on her lips the moment it appears. Once she peels the pant sleeves off of you, she tosses them carelessly onto the bathroom floor. She retracts her claws to rub off the dried blood on your back, a long exhale escaping her as she gapes wordlessly at all the scars and faded bruises that scatter your back. 

“No bath bomb?” You whine–yes, a full grown hero whining about a bath bomb–which quickly interrupts her stare.

“I'm not wasting one on you,” she says. 

Although Arlecchino can't see it, she knows that you pout.

Thankfully for the rest of the time she cleans the blood off, you hold back on any more suggestive quips. Arlecchino shuts off the faucet and dries you off without another word, dressing you in a satin robe. She turns, quickly removing her own wet clothes and donning proper dry ones. When she returns her gaze on you, you seem oddly flustered–ah, she forgot she had an audience. If you appreciated her bare self, you had said nothing about it.

She hoists you into her arms again, marching down to the room right next to, which is a bedroom, and you’re placed onto the soft bed. You waste no time indulging in the mattress before you stop. 

“Wait, isn't this your bed?” 

“Indeed,” she says nonchalantly after she shuts the lights, sliding under the covers beside you. 

“But, wait, you, don't you, don't you… have anywhere else?” 

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well… it's just… you're not going to kill me when I'm asleep right?” You chuckle though the unease is evident in your words. Arlecchino grasps your chin, making you face her. Your face is only a hair's breadth away from hers and she feels your hot breath against her lips. 

“Do not mistake me. When I kill you, it'd be when you're awake and beaten by me alone,” she whispers huskily. She lets go of you, and turns to the side, her back facing you. 

She can feel your eyes burrow into her. She pays no mind. 

[baejax-the-great]

One Last Drink

“Well, here we are old friend.”

Varric takes one cup out of his pack, then another. He plonks each down on the creepy green stone he supposes he’ll be seeing a lot more of in the coming days and pours in some brandy from his flask.

He raises his cup aloft and says, “I always wanted to have one last drink with you.”

This is a lie. But then Varric is a liar. Hawke would forgive him for it.

He didn’t want to have one last drink with Hawke—he wanted a hundred more drinks with Hawke, a thousand. He wanted to sit around with her in their old age with creaky knees and white hair drinking mead and shouting over the table because their ears were both shot. He wanted to slide into old age listening to her sass all those heroes that have followed in her footsteps. He wanted to see her wielding a cane in a bar fight.

But this—this is what he has.

He taps the rim of his cup to Hawke's. The brandy goes down burning.

“You know, I somehow doubt drinking in the Fade will make it any better,” he says. “Seems like the place you’d probably want to be sober for.”

His ears strain. Was that a whisper somewhere? The Fade is weird. Maybe he’ll get a response. What would Hawke say, anyway?

Isn’t the end of the world a good enough occasion for you?

Something like that. Light tone of voice, half twisted smile at the end, she’d clink her cup to his and take a swig, maybe point out that if the Fade is now leaking into everywhere, then anywhere is as good a place to sit and drink with a friend.

“This new generation,” he says, “They’re something. They grew up hungry for a fight. Fearless. They saw the sky explode as kids. They’ve known something was wrong their entire lives. But then, I guess you also were forged in the crucible of apocalyptic disaster.”

Lothering wasn’t that bad.

This she’d say with an artful quirk of her eyebrow before letting her smile take over her face.

Varric fills his cup again. He’s played this game before, become the author of who Hawke would be if she was still anyone. He can hear her voice in his head so clearly, but for years he’s had that creeping doubt that her voice is actually just his. It’s been ten years after all.

He doesn’t know why he thought the Fade might do something nice for once. Solas always talked about those friendly spirits, but it looks like one can’t be assed to channel Hawke for Varric.

“These Veil Jumpers—out of their minds. You know they come here on purpose? Reminds me of you and all those damn caves you dragged us into, except the caves didn’t shift around while we weren’t paying attention. Similar number of demons, though.”

Not by the time I got done with them.

“They told me that right here, right where we are? That’s a fixed point. A landmark.”

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Bellara had said when Varric stopped in his tracks on seeing the statue. “She always seems to be pointed toward an exit, though, so we’re always on the lookout for her. We call her Macabre Martha.”

I’ve been called worse and you know it. You wrote all those names down in your book—you know them better than I do. Not to mention the atrocious name my own mother gave me.

Varric pats the foot of the statue next to him.

“Should I tell them who you are?”

That question he has not been able to answer for her. He looks up the silent statue, Hawke, caught in the moment a spider’s claw pierced her chest, her mouth open, her eyes wide in horror, both woman and spider leg petrified together.

He somehow thought in this place, in this warped reality, if he summoned her up in his mind, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe she’d speak to him. Maybe he could get her to look less scared.

This isn't how she'd want anyone to remember her.

“Never thought I’d see a statue of you worse than the one we put down by the docks.”

Varric pushes himself to his feet. He puts a hand on her arm as if to comfort her in the last frozen moment of her life. He thinks maybe this time the stone will crumble under his hands and reveal her, still fighting, still able to be saved, still ready with a joke.

This? Minor flesh wound. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been impaled.

It’s just stone under his hand. Stone, and half his heart stuck in this awful place for the rest of time.

He picks up Hawke’s cup and drinks that, too. He places the half-full flask at her feet in case she ever gets thirsty.  

“So long, old friend.” He gives her one last squeeze on the arm, then shuffles off in the direction of her terrified expression. The next generation of adventurers awaits, and Varric isn’t so quick these days.

The susurrations of the Fade are all that answers him, but he still calls her voice to mind. So long, Varric.

[actual-changeling]

This was supposed to be a short little Folie à Deux meta, but several hours of writing, thinking, and script research later, and suddenly here we are.

Welcome to this glimpse into my insane mind.

So! Let's go on a little journey and discuss the ending of season five, because Folie à Deux not only sets the foundation for The End but actively makes it so much worse than it could have been.

In the previous episodes, Mulder has been ditching her and blowing her off more and more, he keeps doing things behind her back without telling her, they keep having fights about belief vs. hard facts, and then, at the beginning of that episode, what happens?

MULDER: I must've done something to piss him off. SCULLY: What do you mean? MULDER: Get stuck with this jerk-off assignment or have I finally reached that magic point in my career where every time somebody sees Bigfoot or the Virgin Mary on a tortilla I get called to offer my special insight on the matter? SCULLY: You're saying "I" a lot. I heard "we." Nor do I assume that this case is just a waste of our time. MULDER: Not yours, anyway. There's no reason both of us should go to Chicago. I'll take care of it. SCULLY: Mulder! MULDER: I'm monster boy, right?

He actively and intentionally breaks them up against her will. Mulder is making decisions for THEM without consulting or listening to her, and what can she do except let him run off like he so clearly wants to.

Now, what do you think she takes away from that?

After being left in the dark about his undercover mission in the episode before? After Mulder showing her, one way or another, that he does not want to work with her, that he's fine leaving her behind?

But alright, she stays behind, it's simply Mulder being Mulder.

She does the research he asks her to do. She shows up and helps out when he gets taken hostage. She listens to him, tries to understand, she's concerned because he hasn't been sleeping. She does the fucking autopsy even though he went behind her back and tricked her into it. She keeps looking and looking and looking, and by the end, she's not relieved that the case is finally done or that Mulder is no longer actively insane.

Folie à Deux—a madness shared by two, that's what she believes is happening to her, to them.

Shared by two. Scully thinks of them as a pair, a team, an "us" and a "we".

We all know what he tells her when she visits him at the hospital, but let's really really think about the consequences of it.

MULDER: Scully, you have to believe me. Nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will. You're my one in five billion.

Yeah, alright, that sounds intensely romantic and affirming of their partnershi— oh that?

Oh, that's Diana. No, I never told you about her even though she's arguably one of the most impactful people in my life. I found the X Files with her, she believes in my theories without giving me any resistance, we were in a relationship, she's back now and I am spending more time with her than with you while ALSO not paying attention to you.

If I will tell you about her now? No. But I WILL treat her like she's my partner and not you.

SCULLY: Say that what you're suggesting were even possible, who'd want to kill a kid whose abilities would offer you the ultimate advantage—I mean in business, in war, in anything? DIANA: Maybe somebody whose business is in keeping secrets. MULDER: Well, let's test him. I think the kid will stand up. Let's run a brain scan and a psych evaluation on him. (looking away) You know what to do, Diana.

Not a single word of recognition towards Scully after the shitshow that just went down with Gibson. Way to go, Mulder, way to go.

On top of that, it is worth mentioning that Fowley calls him by his first name and he calls her by hers. Scully can probably count the amount of times Mulder has called her "Dana" on one hand, and she doesn't call him "Fox" because, and I quote:

MULDER: And I... I even made my parents call me Mulder. So... Mulder.

So, Diana is an exception. Why? Why does she get to call him that? Why she but not Scully?

Why does she get to reappear in his life after leaving without an explanation and have Mulder welcome her back with open arms, offering Scully's position on a silver platter?

Scully needs to ask TLG for help and information about Fowley, and it makes everything so much worse. Within their work-relationship, she's the scientist, that's her job, that's who she is, that's why Mulder needs her, and Fowley isn't one.

Right?

LANGLY: She was there when he discovered the X-Files. She has a background of para-science.

Oh. Oh, okay. Sure.

A big thank you to @sentientsky for sharing the script, which gives us this wonderful additional information:

So, to summarize, she's hot, Mulder's type, has exactly the kind of background that someone working on the X Files needs, and they have an old dynamic to fall back into—a dynamic they fall back into period.

She goes through all that, stays up all night to make sure her evidence is scientifically sound, just for Mulder to not even back her up when Spender and Fowley challenge her.

The script actively states that this is what Diana has been waiting for during the meeting—to refute Scully.

Fowley questions Scully's capabilities as both an agent and a scientist during a meeting right in front of Mulder, and Scully looks at him. She waits for him to say something, to defend her like he usually would, but he doesn't.

He doesn't even look at her.

The betrayal she must have felt, ESPECIALLY after what he told her at the hospital. It's no wonder she writes off anything and everything he says to her when he's injured in some form after that experience.

She needs to make herself believe he was just talking like that because he was having some sort of episode, because what are the other options here?

One in five billion, until someone better comes along?

Until he no longer needs her to do something for him?

Until she has outlived her usefulness and has transitioned from being a vital part of their investigations to being annoying and overly sceptical?

Until it becomes clear that Mulder isn't the issue in their partnership, it's her? That all her fears and anxieties weren't so irrational, after all?

Because it's important to remember that this is the day after she saw him and Diana at the hospital.

After THIS:

How much do you wanna bet that she spent the last, what, twelve hours since seeing them trying to convince herself that it's not what she thinks?

That, of course, Mulder is still her partner. That they're still a team. That she is not an indulgence to Mulder or the X Files, that she belongs down in that basement just as much as he does.

You and me. Me and you. Right? ...Right??

The case goes off the rails, Fowley gets shot, Gibson gets kidnapped, CSM delivers a Star Wars line and later burns down their office.

She stays at his apartment for the night, and we see them interacting when Skinner calls, but Mulder is still not fully acknowledging her. He asks her about Fowley and any news regarding their assignments, but that's it.

No "how are you feeling about potentially getting fired, Scully?"

Now, there's this tiny but important part that they decided to cut, which emphasizes the emotional gap between them; it re-affirms what we have seen for way too many episodes.

Mulder cares about her, but he is completely taking her and the safety she offers him for granted. He is, and I mean this in the least negative way possible, essentially using her as a crutch—without even noticing. Scully notices, though, and in lieu of an explanation from Mulder, she is forced to draw her own conclusions.

I'm going to stay here (your life) if that's okay with you (if you still want me in it).

When they're standing in the ashes at the end, it's just as horrifying and terrible for her as it is for Mulder, and she clings to him for the both of them. She clings to him to keep him from breaking, and he doesn't hug her back.

Scully is giving him her everything, she's trying so incredibly hard to keep him in one piece and soothe his pain, but, tell me, who is taking care of her?

There's a limit, she has reached it, and Mulder doesn't even realize it.

Is he acting maliciously at any point? No, definitely not. However, he is carelessly cruel sometimes, doesn't communicate how much Scully means to him, and simply keeps taking and taking because she keeps giving.

Five years, and yet he still blames and distrusts her when she doesn't immediately jump onto his insect zombie bandwagon. Five years, and never once did he mention the person he found the X Files with. Fowley so easily takes Scully's place and she understandably feels rejected and unloved.

WE know he loves her, yes, but she isn't sure of that anymore. Loving someone comes with feeling comfortable around them and being yourself, yet he is incapable of fully understanding the responsibility they both have to keep each other safe from each other.

Scully is sacrificing herself to keep him from breaking and he does not even notice how she is falling apart right next to him.

[wheels-of-despair]

Look At Him Now Pairing: (Background) Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman sits with Wayne and watches Eddie be a dork. Contains: Hangin' with Wayne, (squirt) gun violence, a lowkey Father's Day fic for Uncle Wayne. Words: 800ish

It's early afternoon when the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign comes into view. You put your turn signal on and feel the summer heat start to close in as soon as you slow down enough to turn, and the wind stops blowing through your windows. Maybe this is why Eddie drives through here so damn fast.

You see Wayne sitting on the picnic table as you get closer. You come to a stop behind the van and decide to say hi to Wayne before finding out where the hell Eddie is.

"Hey, darlin," he drawls when you get close, patting the top of the table next to him. "Have a seat. Enjoy the shade. Watch my nephew act like a six year old."

"Can't resist an offer like that," you laugh, sitting next to him and facing the long row of backyards and empty clotheslines.

Eddie Munson is having a water war with the neighborhood kids. He's wearing denim cutoffs, a soaked t-shirt, and having the time of his life. Six or seven kids, all armed with squirt guns, chase each other through the grass, screaming and squealing each time someone gets hit with a stream.

"I'd tell him to act his age, but…" Wayne takes a drag off his cigarette. "It's kinda nice, seeing him like this. He didn't really act like a kid when he was one."

You tilt your head slightly, hoping for more. You don't get to talk to Wayne alone much. Eddie's always there with you, and the two Munsons are always picking on each other. Which is amusing, but…

"When he first came to stay with me, he was a different kid. Quiet. Lonely. Scared of just about everything. He ever tell you about his old man?"

"A little bit," you answer. Eddie did not like to talk about him.

"My brother was… well. Some people just ain't meant to be parents."

Wayne takes another drag, and doesn't speak again. The silence is more unbearable than the humidity.

"But you did a really good job," you smile. "Look at him now."

Several of the younger kids corner Eddie by a brush pile, and he puts his hands up to surrender. They shoot anyway. He yells and gives chase, and they all squeal and scatter.

"I didn't do much."

"Yeah, you did," you argue. "Your nephew is my favorite person in the world. He's everything a good man should be. An absolute gentleman. And I have no doubt that you're the one who made him that way."

Eddie chases down one of his assailants and lets out a maniacal cackle as he empties his water gun on the kid squealing in protest. His laugh always brings a smile to your face, even when he's up to no good.

"You really love him, huh?"

You take your eyes off of Eddie and look at Wayne. His mouth is crooked in a rare half a smile, and his eyes look… proud?

"Damn right I do."

Wayne chuckles and nods his head, turning his attention back to the war going on in his back yard. The teams have called a truce and gathered around a bucket to refill their water guns. Eddie's explaining proper filling technique to the kids when he looks up and spots you. He grins, finishes filling his gun, and walks over to the picnic table.

"Hi," he says, leaning over for a kiss. His hair drips on your shorts. He stands back and narrows his eyes. "You guys talkin' about me?"

"World don't revolve around you, boy," Wayne grumbles.

"Mine does," you grin.

"My condolences," Wayne deadpans.

Eddie raises his squirt gun and aims it at Wayne.

"Don't," Wayne says simply.

You look from Eddie to Wayne, staring each other down, waiting for the twang of western music or for a tumbleweed to blow by.

"Alright, old man," Eddie glares playfully, lowering his weapon slightly. "You win this time."

"Mhm," Wayne hums, knowing his nephew wouldn't have dared. You love watching them play with each other.

Eddie jerks his gun in your direction, and before you can even threaten him, he pulls the trigger. You shriek in surprise, holding out your hands to try to redirect the stream from soaking your shirt.

When Eddie's finger gets tired of pumping the little plastic trigger, he stands there and grins triumphantly. You growl and slowly get off the table. Eddie's eyes widen, and he stumbles in his hurry to run back to the yard. You wring out a bit of water from your shirt, making a little puddle on the ground by your feet.

"Wayne, if you'll excuse me, I have to go murder your nephew now."

"You kids have fun," he laughs.

[polinsated]

I’ve seen a theory going around about when Pen tells Colin he doesn’t need to save her, just love her scene that she told him she was pregnant off screen because the way their hands went towards her stomach.

However, I feel like if that were the case, Colin wouldn’t have still acted as distant after that and Pen wouldn’t have mentioned the annulment. I mean she would be an unwed mother and Colin would have an illegitimate baby.

Thoughts on the theory?

okay, at first, i was going to say i didn't agree with the theory. my first response was going to be something like, maybe her bringing his hands that close to her, is just pen's way of really trying to bring him in once again, make them close. but i hopped on over to make some gifs after i looked at the scene because i'm now kind of liking and believing this theory.....

she takes his hands, which, i would like to point out that, is the first time she has been the one to do this. usually, he takes hers. and she squeezes them a little, like she's silently demanding he hear her, grabbing his attention, trying to convey that she needs to tell, nay, show him something important. she pulls his hands to him, slowly, intently, until...

they rest against her stomach!! and you can see her fingers wrap around his hands, fully holding them to her now.

and finally, she looks up, and her expression is so serious. i don't know if i'm seeing shit that isn't there, but to me, there's a tiny, tiny hint of a smile, too.

and then we have the dialogue from this moment!!

Colin: "And as long as you live with this secret… there will always be something between us."

the 'something between us' is lw. the wedge that is keeping them apart at present.

Pen: "I know. Perhaps that is the key."

and if you think of 'the key' as being 'no more secrets', then it all makes some sense.

because later on, pen reveals her identity to everyone. she decides to unveil her big secret. and if she is truly showing him here that she is pregnant, then that is also another secret revealed. am i making sense?

i'm now hearing it as something like this:

colin: as long as you keep lw to hidden, we will always have something keeping us at a distance

pen: i know, so perhaps we should no longer keep secrets

pen: *shows him by bringing his hands to her stomach that she is pregnant* this is her revealing it to him, sharing another secret, and the one that will be their last

and as for colin's distance/annulment/an illegitimate child:

penelope is not going to force colin to stay married for the baby. she loves him too much to use a child as a trap, and that's why she still mentions an annulment. her love for him is too strong - this woman would endure all the disdain and judgement of having a child out of wedlock - she is used to it, anyway, and she'd go through it if it meant colin was happier again.

and as for colin, distance doesn't mean he would abandon the child, and it doesn't mean he hasn't been checking on her. he's a big sulky boy, but he also cares so damn much. and he'd have never agreed to an annulment. once again, he loves her too much, and you bet your ass he already adores their unborn child.

i am never great at making these types of speculative posts, but i hope this makes sense. i hope it's readable. and in conclusion: i am fully a believer in this theory now, haha. and i think it's very clever of them, because now that you've brought it to my attention, anon, this tiny moment between them seems obvious, and screams 'polin baby incoming!!'

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Seungmin| Puppy

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

Seungmin always fed the stray puppy in the park at night. Ever since the puppy arrived a few weeks ago.

He wanted to take it home. But it was kind of hard right now since he was so busy. So he resolved to take it home if the puppy was still at the park when he came back from the few fan meets he was doing in Europe; it would surely be happy there. With love from multiple people.

He wouldn't make it suffer any longer. He'd even give it extra treats. He knew Felix and IN were bound to sneak it some food as well.

Seungmin had yet to name the puppy. Because he couldn't find the right name for the poor girl.

At least he thought it was a girl.

She was dirty so he couldn't tell what color she was. He wanted to give her a name that had to do with her fur. Like Honey or S'mores or something along the lines of sweet treats.

He couldn't wait to get back from the fan meets. He always enjoyed being with the fans but he loved this dog dearly, and it had only been less than a month.

The first time he had seen it he knew he just had to keep it.

Seungmin clicked his tongue and the puppy came running out of the bushes.

He'd come prepared with sweet potato and chicken treats, he had quickly found out it was her favorite snack to eat.

She wagged her tail and came up to Seungmin, placing a few kisses on his hands and face before delicately taking the treat out of his hand and eating it.

"Psh! Churro! Where are you?"

The dog looked at Seungmin and cocked her head.

"Chu...rro..." Seungmin said quietly. The dog wagged her tail and licked Seungmin. Starting to run in place a little, her rear sticking up in the air slightly.

The name sounded foreign on his tongue but he liked it.

"Churro? Where are you?"

Seungmin picked up Churro and gave her another treat. 

She wagged her tail against Seungmin's side and the soft thumping matched his footsteps as he walked towards the voice as she chomped her treat happily.

Seungmin rounded the corner and saw what he believed to be the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

You turned to him and your heart swelled. The boy holding Churro was absolutely stunning. Downright adorable even.

"You found Churro!" You happily rush over to the cute guy and your new puppy.

Well hopefully your new puppy. You didn't have a place to keep her, since your apartment didn't allow it.

But you would figure it out.

"Yeah, I guess I did...I'm Kim Seungmin."

"Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you!"

You did mean it. He was rather attractive. And he looked even more attractive holding a puppy.

"Is um...Churro yours? I've been feeding her for the past couple of weeks I...don't mean to make her gain weight she just looked like a stray- not that your taking poor care of her...I..." He stopped his rambling.

You smiled brightly and laughed. And damn did your laugh do things to Seungmin’s stomach.

"She's not mine...yet." You sigh. "My apartment doesn't allow dogs. But I really love her. I just...need some time to figure it out."

Seungmin perked up. "She could stay with me! I love dogs! But I'll be gone for a few weeks so you could take care of her! She could just sleep at the dorms!"

You look at the excitement on Seungmin's face. He really was adorable.

"Really? I could do that?"

Seungmin nods. "On one condition..."

You wait patiently for his condition.

"You go on a date with me..." His face turns red.

You laughed as you reached out to pet Churro, your fingers colliding with Seungmin’s gently, a ticklish electricity in the places your skin touched.

"Deal. But maybe make it more dates. I have a feeling I'll like you."

Seungmin smiles. "I have a feeling I'll like you too."

(the dog on the left with the closed eyes??? he’s my family’s precious little boy Chuy Chewinski 🤭)

[vulpixisananimal]

Carrion!Sif AU, Chapter 1.

ACT 1, The Hunger.

(Au origonaly by @traumaboyexo. it's so cool. I'm 100% going to do more of this.)

"Siffrin!"

(You're lying down in the field near Dormont. You had a weird dream about eating a star. You smell cherries, Mirabelle was calling your name.)

". . . Siffrin?" (She's looming over you now, your Housemaiden.) "Good morning! Or, well more like good afternoon I guess. Were you taking a nap? That's just like you. . . Only you could sleep peacfully at a time like this, hee hee."

(You're too sleepy to talk, you close your eye again.)

"You're still half asleep, aren't you. I'll let you sleep a bit longer, but not too long!!"

(. . . Ugh. You can't stay here, like this. The sun was nice, and you could smell the birds in the air. The people in the village. The faint and distinct smell Mirabelle carried with her. But you were getting hungry, really, really hungry.)

(Wake up, Siffrin. You have a country to save.)

>>>

(Statues, big and small, all with different faces. Some jump up and down, some are sad, some are happy. The Change God, Deity of all of Vaugarde, stands before you.)

(So much has happened over the last few months, since you met Mirabelle. You helped save them from a sadness, and you were here to defeat the King. They were nice, they were your familly.)

(Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonniface. Each of them had been your best friends, or at least allies. You hoped you were friends, at least.)

(Mirabelle once asked if you were ok with following them on your journey. You truthfully answered that this had been the happiest you'd ever been. But, that just made her look upset.)

(You cringe just thinking about it, truth be told.)

(You're still hungry.)

>>>

"Don't worry about a thing, then. Can I get you anything on the house? A croissant, maybe? . . . Incredible, incredible. I've never seen someone give such a look of disdain when offered croissant."

"A Pain Au Chocolate, then. Only monsters don't like Pain Au Chocola."

(You like those! You nod!!)

"Ha, one Pain Au Chocolate, coming up."

(You got the Pain Au Chocolate!! Yay!!)

(You know they're really, really bad for your stomach. But it's still warm! Smells of butter and chocolate. You try and restrain yourself with one small bite. But you're so hungry, it smells so good!! You take one bite, and another, and another!!)

". . . Not gonna lie, seeing a tiny one like you eat like a rabid beast. . . That was distrubing, but also weirdly satisfying."

(Haha, this was future Siffrins problem.)

>>>

(The Favor Tree looms above you.)

(You look around for a good leaf, one to represent you. You need it for the Favor Tree, after all.)

(A wish, a wish. . . Favor Trees must be popular around Vaugarde, these days. Everyone must be wishing for the same thing. So, why should you join them, then? What's one more wish on the pile. Something small. . .)

(You wish for. . .)

>>>

"Phew, Bonbon! That was DE-LI-CIOUS!!"

(It was really, really good!! You ate every bite on your plate! It was sooooo tasty, but now your tummy was feeling upset. Damn you, past Siffrin!! But, you could still eat more!!)

"Aw Siff, are you still hungry?" (Isabeau asks.)

"Frin, you ate a lot, huh!! You liked my cooking a lot, huh!!! Here, have some more food since you're so hungry and like my cooking so much."

(Bonnie gives you one (1) carrot slice. It smelled tasty!)

(Chomp.)

"Won't that give you a stomach ache? Nevermind that, how can you still eat after all that food?" (Odile asks, concerned.)

"I'm a growing kid!" (You reply, cheekily.)

"A growing kid that drinks achohol?!?"

"You're older than most of the people here?!?"

(You wink cutely.)

"I suppose we're lucky to get some meat for you all the way out here." (Odile sighs.) "What a strange diet you have."

(You shrug. You've always been like this.)

>>>

(You step into the House of Change. It feels. . . Wrong. You have a tingling on the back of your neck. A tingling you'd always get when something was "off.")

(A house frozen in time. A faint smell of sugar slicing through the air. It was strange, but still you were confident. You could smell your companions following you, step by step. Each as distinct as the next.)

(You're hungry again.)

(You smell a sadness ahead.)

>>>

(Huh?)

"Is something wrong, Siffrin?" (Asks Odile.)

(You look around. There, behind you, there was a flickering white. . . Star?)

"Did you see that light?" (You ask.)

"A light?" (Mirabelle looks concerned.)

"Something wrong, Sif?" (Isa adds.)

(You walk over to the light and point to it.)

". . . . . . ?"

(So they can't see it? It smelled of sugar.)

(You reach out and touch the light.)

>>>

(Traps? Traps?)

"A job for me then." (You say, cheekily.)

"It is your job."

"Protect us, trap master!"

(Not the first time you had to reassure Mirabelle. Time to look around.)

(You look around the room. Checking each wall, checking the floors, checking the pillars. You felt the brickwork for anything, a hidden switch, a pressure plate, anything. It all smelled of... Sugar, and old stone. Well maintained, it smelled of people too. You could smell. . . Fear, worry, no, no that was Mirabelles. She smelled of fear, it smelled. . .)

(You're hungry again.)

(There's nothing here. You can't find any switches, so. . .)

"So? So are we safe?? We're not safe, are we!! This is the death corridor!!! There must be a trap--"

(Oh come on now.) "There's nothing weird in here."

"But there must be!!"

"Aw, Mira. . ."

"Belle, Belle, don't worry about it. Frin isn't good at many things, but they know stuff about traps."

(Hey. . .)

"Right, if we can't trust the one who's supposed to lead us THIS early, this wont bode well for later."

(HEY--)

"But! But!"

"We're not dead yet." (You say, stepping through the hall.)

"W-well, that's true. . ."

"We HAVE been in this room for a while. . . And Siffrin has been walking everywhere. So if it was weight sensitive, it would have gone off by now."

"Exactly! It's all fine!!"

"Oh. . . Yeah, yeah okay! I'll believe you! Sorry for worrying, I'm a little on edge."

(You smile at them.) "We're good, Mira, see?" (You walk to the center of the room.)

"Everythings fine!"

(. . . . The back of your neck tingles. Somethings-)

(CRACK.)

(THUD.)

[littleplantfreak]

Run my hands through - Umemiya Hajime

Made a post about how much i loved Ume with his hair down yesterday and ended up writing something entirely self indulgent //gestures at this official art too

-SFW (but almost wasn't I almost got super carried away but deleted it cause I leave smut to the professionals) so uhhh marking/hickeys, hair pulling, makin' out with Umemiya and slightly possessive behavior on readers part but in a silly way if that makes sense just in case anyone has problems with that stuff.

You're looking at him more than usual. Umemiya can feel your eyes boring into the back of his head while he's re-potting plants on the roof. He asked you about it before but all you do is hum and say you think you're staring a normal amount. Of course he doesn't mind, but it feels like he's under a microscope. When he asked Kotoha if she knew why you were acting weird, she shrugged and said you'd were looking at some old pictures at the children's home so maybe you'd just been noting how different he looked in his childhood pictures. She ended it with a look and tone that conveyed you'd already asked her to keep something secret.

-----

It's his hair again. The hair that's always gelled back in a slight wave keeping it out of his face completely. It's not hard to break it free from the glassy prison he molds it into though. There have been plenty of times strands fell forward from sweating, working or fighting, but you've never seen it fully down in person. That's why, when you saw a semi-recent picture of him with his siblings, long hair falling in his face, trimmed neatly with ends blunt, you started to feel a certain way about it. You innocently asked Kotoha if she had any more pictures of Ume like that.

"Like what?"

"Like with his hair down."

"Oho you have a thing for his hair now?" She teases and although you know she won't tell him if you ask her not to, you're still embarrassed at being found out so easily.

"He's my boyfriend! I have a thing for nearly everything about him."

"But anyone can tell you're kinda obsessed with it with how much you fix and touch it throughout the day. Just ask him to wear it down for you."

It's not that you hadn't thought about it, but the more you thought, the more you started getting frustrated. Why didn't he wear it down more often? It seems like he did in old pictures. If he hated it now you didn't wanna force him to change it

Your self control was pretty good, but once you'd started really looking it was impossible to stop. His most recent fight with Shishitoren had haphazard strands in his face dislodged by sweat and aggressive movement. Of course you were concerned with the wounds spanning across his face and body, but another part of you wanted to eat him alive with how good he looked. You're not quite sure you'd be able to stop yourself from jumping him if you saw him with his hair fully down. Sitting in a chair on the roof, you watch him and think about the feeling of running your fingers through his white locks unhindered by that damn tough gel he puts in.

"Pumpkin can you hand me the small pruning sheers to your left?" he calls over without looking over at you.

"Mhmmm," you barely reply still stuck in a daze.

Pruning sheers...

Right!

You snap out of the daydreams that'd been haunting you to stand and grab them. Just as you're about to hand them over, Umemiya grasps the wrist with the sheers and pulls gently but firmly to drag you down on the ground with him. He sets the sheers down before taking both your hands in his.

"Something on my face? You've been starin' an awful lot."

"Ahh dirt, if I had to guess," a halfhearted excuse while your brain continued to process things slower than usual.

"Sweetheart baby love of mine," he is all dramatics now stringing pet names together in a silly amalgamation. Once he starts making direct eye contact it's hard to look anywhere else, "you have got to tell me whats going on in that beautiful head of yours. I love the attention but if something's bothering you-"

"It's your hair!" You spit out in a panic, drawing your hands away to cover your face in embarrassment. You can tell he's a little worried and it makes you feel even worse for making a big deal about it.

"My hair bothers you?" He's confused. Of course he is. It isn't something you've brought up in the past after all. He thought you liked his hair since you were always fixing it for him and you do. Your voice is muffled by your hands but he can still understand to a point.

"It looks great and I love it, but I reaaallly wanna see it down," you can hear yourself whining the words instead of saying them normally. "You always have it up when you're at school," taking a deep breath as your hands come off your face to speak more clearly. "I was looking at pictures with Kotoha and they're pretty much all of you with your hair down." Taking a second you twirl one of his loose strands around your finger in lieu of staring again, sincerely embarrassed you let it get to you this bad. He finally puts the pieces together from his conversation with Kotoha earlier.

"Our date night's tomorrow right? I'll wear it down then," he says, letting you mess with his hair. He can see a jolt go through you at his words and you lock eyes with him immediately.

"Really? Really really?" You're just about vibrating in place, grabbing his face with both hands and squishing his cheeks.

"Rweawy rweawy rweawy!" His breath is coming out of his nose in amused puffs due to the quick shift in enthusiasm and your hold on his face.

"I'VE GOTTA GO PICK MY OUTFIT OUT OH MY GOD ILOVEYOUBYE!" A small peck on the nose and you're gone like the wind throwing open the door and running past Sugishita who was on his way up the stairs. The long haired boy looks back at Umemiya with wide, questioning eyes before letting the moment pass, his head dips in the usual greeting before he walks over to do the daily gardening tasks.

_____

“I changed my mind we can’t go out tonight.”

“Babe you’re all dressed up and you were so excited to check out that new restaurant near the park,” Hajime sighs exasperated. You’re in the foyer of his home, hands on both sides of the door frame blocking his escape.

“Not looking like that you aren’t! Do you want every girl in a 20 mile radius to fall for you? The men too? I’ll have to fight every single one of them and of course I’d win but imagine the casualties! The collateral damage!” you cry hanging your head in fake hysterics. Both Kotoha and their other siblings have been watching this two-part comedy special for about 10 minutes now, two minutes of which you just STARED at him. Then you began circling like a hawk looking at him from any and all angles as if to commit it to memory. Then you started laying on the compliments and pick up lines but he could tell you meant every one of them. “Who is this absolute knock out in front of me? Is my boyfriend a model now? Did it hurt when you fell because I’m staring at an angel.”

Which brought you both to the current scene and while you were (for the most part) joking, you also…weren’t. You could and probably are just extremely biased but GOD you think no one could pull off that hair quite so well. Usually it takes a lot to make Umemiya blush, but his face is currently stained red by how brazen you are at the moment. He’s smiling and trying to take it in stride but even Kotoha can tell he’s affected by your display and she's relishing it.

“No more arguing,” he picks you up by the waist and hoists you to him in a hug that leaves your face in his chest and feet off the floor. “We’re heading out now.” He sends a farewell back to your amused audience and the kids yell back a cacophony of teases and calls for their onee-san and onii-san to come back soon. You start muffling unrecognizable words into his shirt before he puts you down as he gets further down the street.

“It would’ve been one of the best ways to die if i’d stayed there a little longer,” you breathe and stumble back a bit.

“You are shameless today,” he laughs and goes to hold your hand. Anyone watching you both can tell you're grossly in love by the dreamy look on your face as you watch him while you walk down the street. You realize now that this is the first time in about two weeks you have him to yourself, which may be why you've been clingier than normal. Every time either of you tried to schedule date night with the other, someone or something came up and made you push date night back.

Going two weeks without any prolonged physical contact (save for hello and goodbye hugs or kisses) with your boyfriend has made you starved for him in every way your brain can fathom, which is why it isn't surprising that you end up dragging him through the park to an alcove you know isn't traveled to often. It also isn't surprising when you sit him down on the bench bracing a knee next to him, and pinning him loosely in place. He doesn't say a word, but tilts his head up slightly angled in favor of you closing the distance, daring you with those stormy grey eyes.

Your hands find their way easily to the soft ivory of his hair, delving deeper to twist and pull him in. Caught between a sigh and a moan, Umemiya Hajime is melting into you, lines blurring and nerves on fire. His hands fumble to grab the thigh closest to him as he moves you to straddle him. You haven't let up on your assault on his senses, fingers loosening their hold to rub small circles into his scalp.

Is this how you feel when he goes all out after stress starts to take it's toll on him? Now that he thinks about it he's always been the one to initiate this kind of thing, but god he would've asked you to take the lead sooner if he knew it felt this good. Heartbeat thrumming through his hands, he runs them in a soothing pattern from the top of your hip to you knee giving your legs the occasional extra squeeze.

A wave of calm shifts the clouds filling your head out as you have an idea. Parting from him briefly you start kissing and mouthing your way down to the collar of his shirt. He squeezes your thighs harder as your breath ghosts his neck and you give it a few experimental nips before cooling the spot with your tongue. He's trying to stifle a high pitched noise in the back his throat but once you hear it you latch on biting and sucking a single bright red mark. A soft breath over your work before you sit back to admire it. The mark peeks out just enough for you to see it right now but low enough that when he's wearing his furin jacket, he'll be able to hide it.

"That was-," you start, still breathless.

"Wow," he voice cracks at the same time. His eyes are a little wild but his hair is even wilder, sticking up in some directions and falling flat in others. Giving a small tap on his arm he releases the deathgrip he had on you before his eyes stick right to where he had been holding. Blue bruises are scattered over both legs where his fingers were, but they're just barely hidden once you fix your dress.

"Guess we're uh...even?" you're suddenly bashful at what was probably the same type of stare you've been giving him for a week straight now. Umemiya runs his own hands through his hair trying to catch his breath and make himself a little more presentable too.

"No way are we close to being even you little monster. After dinner I'm getting you back," and you can tell he's not bluffing.

"I'm shaking in my shoes Haji," you shot back feeling a bit more like yourself as you go to grab his hand. He moves towards you but you end up spun around and he picks you up for the second time that night, this time settled on carrying you bridal style.

"Put me down," you squeak in warning, the skirt of your dress no longer hiding the fresh bruises.

"This is part of your punishment sweetheart. Also, no one's coming after me if I carry you around like a princess right?" It was hard to argue with that logic and to be fair, despite your earlier boldness your legs ended up weak. He had probably seen the shaky steps you took towards him a second ago.

Both of you got to the restaurant in time despite the detour and the next day you were sporting a hoodie to hide the payback you took happily after.

[lostfracturess]

In the backseat? Or on the stairs?

ღ pairing satoru gojo x female reader

ღ summary you and satoru have been driving each other crazy all night with your constant teasing. just your luck, the only seat left in the car is right on his lap. with every bump and turn on the road home, you can't help grinding against him and with his moans in your ear, it's only a matter of time before something more happens right?

ღ wc 6.3 k

ღ warnings 18+ ONLY. porn without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), penetration, fingering, public sex, kinda breeding kind, praising, needy female lol, overstimulation, edging, oral (both male and female), satoru is a bit insane as always.

ღ author's note idk what to put here. not that people really care, we all know why you're here so enjoy. but pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡

Satoru Gojo's lap was absolutely the last place you expected to find yourself tonight. Yet here you are, perched on his muscular thighs, the crowded car speeding towards your place after the party.

Trying to get comfortable, you shift your weight, accidentally brushing against his crotch. Satoru sucks in a sharp breath.

"Easy there." His hand grips your waist tighter, pulling you flush against his chest. "Or are you trying to start something?"

"You wish," you fire back.

"Oh, I do wish." He smirks, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt "Been wanting to get my hands on you all night."

You merely huff, pretending indifference even as your heart races at his words, his touch. Satoru Gojo is the biggest tease on campus, and he fucking knows it.

Tonight's party was no different.

From the moment you arrived, Satoru was there, looking infuriatingly handsome in his tight shirt that clung to his every muscle, flashing that cocky grin whenever he caught you staring. Which was often.

Now, crammed in Suguru's car, the only seat left just had to be Satoru's lap. Before you could protest, Suguru hit the gas and the car lurched forward.

Satoru's arm snakes around your waist to steady you. "Careful there," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Wouldn't want you to fall."

Biting your lip, you stare out the window, trying to focus on anything but the way your bodies are molded together. Every bump, every turn presses you against him in the most maddening way.

Heat pools in your core as you fight the urge to grind down onto him. Blame it on the alcohol, but it was damn hard to think straight when you were rubbing against his rough pants.

But then a glance at Satoru nearly makes you gasp. Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted. His arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then, he dips his head, lips grazing your ear. "Keep squirming like that, love, and we're gonna have a situation." His other hand finds your thigh, fingertips dragging over your skin. "Not that I'm complaining. Grind on me all you want."

Your breath catches. Heat courses through your veins, and it's only partly from the alcohol. Maybe it's liquid courage, maybe it's weeks of pent-up frustration. But now it's payback time.

Slowly, deliberately, you roll your hips, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

Satoru shifts beneath you. Unmistakable proof of his hardening length brushes your backside, a whimper nearly escapes him.

"Fuck, you feel what you do to me?" Satoru's groan is quiet in your ear. "Been hard for you all damn night."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, I've got plenty in mind." Satoru's fingers dig into your hip. "But not sure you could handle it with an audience."

"Try me. I dare you."

"Don't tempt me. When I get you alone, you're gonna regret being such a tease."

Boldly, you rock your hips against him, teasing him just a little bit more.

His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction. His cock presses against your backside. He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Another moan falls from his lips, this one deeper, needier, muffled against your shoulder.

"Keep moving like that and I won't be able to control myself," he warns, his words hot against your shoulder. "Gonna end up taking you right here in this car, audience be damned."

And oh, how you wanted to take him up on that challenge.

You shift again, this time with clear intent. You grind down against his hardness, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate circle but subtly to avoid drawing attention from the others in the car, the flowing fabric of your skirt thankfully providing enough coverage to conceal your movements.

His fingers dig into your waist, a strangled groan escaping his throat. You feel him grow even harder beneath you, straining against the confines of his pants, his thick length digging into your backside.

Biting your lip, you reach back and palm him through his pants, squeezing gently. You can feel him throb through the layers of clothing separating you.

Satoru jolts, a high, needy whine catching in his throat. His head falls back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to maintain control.

"Shit, shit, wait," he pants, fingers circling your wrist to stop your teasing touch. "Stop that."

"What's the matter, Satoru? Can't handle a little teasing?"

"You're going to regret this," he warns, voice thin with strain. "You're in so much trouble when I get you alone."

Wetness pools between your thighs, soaking through your underwear. You've never wanted him more than in this moment.

Satoru's mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "But you know, two can play at this game, love," he rumbles against your throat. "And I play to win."

To punctuate his point, his free hand slides up your inner thigh, fingers brushing feather-light over your feverish skin. Even that small touch makes you gasp, hips pressing against his.

"Better be careful. Keep up the teasing and I might just make you come right here, audience or no."

Your breath hitches, body torn between the desire to let him do just that and the knowledge that you're very much not alone.

But Satoru seems determined to push things further. His fingers grow bolder, wandering further up your thigh, skimming over the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that have you squirming.

Higher and higher he goes, until finally, finally, he reaches your clothed core. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he traces the lacy edge of your underwear, the barest hint of a touch.

"Satoru," you whisper, half plea, half warning. You're not sure if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but it doesn't matter. He does what he wants anyway.

"Shh," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "Just keep quiet and let me make you feel good."

With that, he presses his fingers more firmly against you, rubbing slow, lazy strokes over your clothed clit. Biting your lip hard, you try to stifle the moan rising in your throat. But then his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and the first direct touch of skin against skin has you shuddering in his lap.

"So wet," Satoru marvels, fingers gliding easily through your slick folds. "All this, just from a little teasing? You're going to be drenched by the time we get home."

"Satoru," you whimper. "Please..."

"Please what, love?" His fingers circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want—" you start, only to cut off with a gasp when the car hits a pothole, causing his fingers to slip lower, teasing your entrance.

"Sorry guys," Suguru calls over his shoulder, "road's a bit bumpy."

"Yeah, no problem," Satoru replies, voice surprisingly steady for a man with his hand between your legs. "We're good."

Good is an understatement.

The way his fingers are moving against you, dipping just slightly into your entrance before sliding back up to your clit, has you seeing stars. Your hips rock against his touch, desperate for more.

He traces the very edge of your entrance, circling you with a barely-there pressure that makes you want to scream. Dipping just the tips of his fingers inside, he gathers the wetness before gliding back up to your clit.

His touch is maddening. You're desperate for more, for the thick slide of his fingers deep inside you, for the delicious stretch and fullness. But Satoru denies you, keeps his touches feather-light and fleeting, never quite giving you what you need.

"Please," you whimper, hips canting shamelessly against his hand. "Please, Satoru, I need..."

"What do you need, love?" he purrs in your ear, fingers continuing their torturous movements. "Use your words."

"Your fingers. Inside me. Please, I need you inside me."

Satoru hums, considering.

His fingers dip into your entrance again, just slightly deeper than before. Your breath hitches, walls fluttering around the teasing intrusion. But before you can grind down, before you can take him deeper, he withdraws, sliding back up to circle your clit.

"Satoru," you whine plaintively.

"Patience, love. I'll give you what you need. Eventually."

His fingers glide down again, tracing through your slick folds, teasing at your entrance without ever breaching. It's torturous, the ghosting pressure where you're empty and aching.

Up and down, up and down, never pushing inside but just hinting at the pleasure of it. Your core turns molten until you think you can't take it any longer.

You're so wet you can hear it, the obscene sound of his fingers gliding through your arousal seeming impossibly loud in the close confines of the car.

"Fuck, you're dripping. I've barely touched you and you're already this wet for me."

As if to emphasize his point, he circles your entrance again, dipping just the very tips of his fingers inside, stretching you open around him for a fleeting second before withdrawing.

"So desperate to be filled. You want it so bad, don't you, love?," he marvels, pressing just slightly deeper on the next pass. "Want my fingers buried deep inside you, want me stretching you open and fucking you until you scream."

"Yes," you sob, head thrashing against his shoulder. "Yes, please Satoru, please..."

He rewards your begging with another barely-there thrust, the very tips of his fingers breaching your entrance before retreating again. It's simultaneously too much and not enough, the fleeting fullness stoking your desperation to a fever pitch.

"Satoru, please. I can't... I need..."

"Shh, I know. I've got you, love. Going to give you what you need now."

Slowly, torturously, he sinks one long finger into you. The slide is smooth and easy, your body offering no resistance. You moan low in your throat, head tipping back in relief and pleasure as he bottoms out, buried to the knuckle.

"Fuck, you're tight," Satoru whispers, sounding almost pained. "And so wet, fuck. Can't wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock."

The thought makes you clench hard, walls rippling around his finger. Satoru groans, hips grinding up against your ass, the thick line of his cock digging into you.

Slowly, he starts to move, pumping his finger in and out of you. But it's not enough, the stretch too slight to truly satisfy the ache inside you.

"More. Please, Satoru, more."

He obeys with a second finger, the added thickness making you gasp and arch. Satoru sets a deep rhythm, fingers curling to stroke that spot inside you that make you bit down your lip.

"Fuck, Satoru. More, please, more..."

You feel his answering groan more than hear it, the vibration of it rumbling through his chest pressed against your back. "Such a greedy girl, always needin' more."

He punctuates his words with a particularly deep thrust, before you can do more than gasp, he's withdrawing, ignoring your whimper of protest. But it's only for a second, just long enough for him to add a third finger on the next plunge.

The stretch is maddening, bordering on too much. It tears a gasp from your throat before you can stop it. It's loud enough to make Suguru glance back briefly. "Everything okay back there?"

Satoru's fingers still inside you, and you bite your lip hard to keep from whimpering. Satoru keeps his expression impressively neutral, even as his other hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Yeah, we're good. Hey, can you turn up the music? I love that song."

Suguru shrugs, seemingly oblivious to what happens in the backseat. "Sure thing, man." He reaches for the volume dial, cranking up the pounding bass until it fills the car.

You've never been more grateful for loud music in your life. As the beat thrums through the vehicle, you pray it will drown out any further sounds you might make. Especially considering Choso and Kento, passed out drunk were literally sitting beside you.

Satoru bottoms out, three fingers buried as deep as they can go, stretching you impossibly full. For a moment he stays like that, let's you just feel the perfect ache of it, the way your inner walls ripple and squeeze around him.

"Oh fuck." You grind your hips down to take him even deeper. "Satoru, yes..."

"That's it, take it. Take everything I give you like a good girl."

Slowly he begins to move. It's a smooth, deep glide, his fingers stroking you from the inside with devastating precision. He curls them just right, rubbing over that sensitive spot he found as if he knew it by heart.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent moan as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

"God, the sounds you make," Satoru groans, pumping his fingers faster, harder. "Sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. Could listen to you moan for me all damn night. I wonder why he didn't do that sooner?"

Every thrust of Satoru's fingers, every glancing brush of his thumb over your clit, drags another broken whimper from your throat. Pleasure builds rapidly fast, your body climbing higher and higher, chasing the release that shimmers just out of reach.

"Satoru, please," you gasp. "I'm so close, I need... fuck, I need..."

"I know what you need," he rasps, doubling his efforts. His fingers piston in and out of you. "Need to come, don't you? Need to soak my fingers, drench my hand in your cum until it's dripping down my wrist."

"Satoru. Need you. Please."

"Shh, I've got you," he soothes, even as his thrusts grows harder, faster. "Just let go, love. I'll catch you."

Thank god for the loud music and low lighting. If not for that, everyone in the car would be clearly aware of exactly what Satoru is doing to you right now, how you're trembling and writhing in his lap.

His fingers speed up, his thump rubbing firm circles against your clit. You're close, teetering on the knife's edge of release.

"That's it. You're being so good for me, staying quiet while I make you feel good. You gonna come for me, love? Gonna soak my fingers while trying not to scream?"

His words make you clench hard around his fingers. Your thighs start to tremble. You're so close, balancing precariously on the razor's edge, body drawn tight.

Satoru feels you teetering on the brink. "That's it. Come on my fingers, love. Wanna feel you let go."

But just as you're about to tip over the edge, just as your eyes are fluttering closed, the car rolls to a stop. Satoru's fingers still deep inside you, a frustrated groan rumbling in his chest.

"We're here," Suguru announces, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

It takes a moment for the words to reach you through the haze clouding your mind. You blink dazedly, struggling to catch your breath as Satoru carefully withdraws his hand form you.

"Thanks for the ride, man," he says to Suguru, voice strained but level. "I'll make sure she gets in safe."

"You sure you don't need a ride too? I don't mind, it's on my way."

But Satoru is already shaking his head, one hand reaching for yours, lacing your fingers together. "Nah, I'm good. I'll walk or catch a cab later."

He doesn't wait for a response, practically yanking you out of the car and slamming the door shut behind you. Satoru's grip on your hand tightens as he drags you to the door of your house, impatient to get you inside.

You fumble with your keys, doesn't help that Satoru is pressed against your back, the hard length of him digging into you, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Hurry," he urges. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the heated skin. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as he sucks at your throat.

Finally, blessedly, the door swings open.

You barely have time to step inside before Satoru is on you again, kicking the door shut and pinning you against it. His mouth on yours in a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming you.

He kisses you like a starving man at a feast, consuming you, devouring you. It's all you can do to cling to his shoulders as the onslaught continues, feeling dizzy and breathless.

Large hands roam your body, pushing your skirt up around your waist, squeezing your ass. He grinds against you, the rough fabric of his pants creating delicious friction against your sensitive core.

"Satoru," you gasp as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth nipping. "Bedroom. Now."

"Takes too long." In one swift motion, he grasps your hips and lifts you up, turning to set you down on the stairs instead.

Your breath catches as your back meets the cold wooden steps. His body covers yours, his weight on you as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against you.

He braces a hand on the stair by your head, the other trailing feather-light down your side. "You've been teasing me all night. Strutting around in this tiny little outfit, bending over in front of me, brushing against me 'accidentally'. Driving me fucking crazy."

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, grinding against your core. Even through layers of clothing, the friction is delicious. Your back arches, pressing closer.

"Maybe I like driving you crazy," you manage breathlessly. Your own hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Maybe I like seeing you so desperate."

"Careful what you wish for, love."

Satoru's electric blue eyes burn into you, pupils blown wide. With a swift movement, he pushes you up against him and tugs your shirt over your head, tossed carelessly to the side.

You gasp as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. But it quickly turns into a moan when his mouth is on your chest.

"That's for teasing me all night. Need me to mark you as mine, huh? Show everyone who you belong to?"

You moan, high and breathy, as his lips wander lower, tongue swirling against your sternum. When he reaches the edge of your bra, he doesn't hesitate, dragging the cups down to free your breasts. His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently.

"Fucking perfect." His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently, thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples. Then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

His tongue laves over one nipple, lapping at the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. He sucks it deep into his mouth, the pull of his lips sending heat straight to your core.

Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft white strands as you hold him to your chest. Desperate, needy sounds spill from your lips as he works you over, every swipe of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth stoking the fire within you higher.

He lavishes the same attention on your other breast, sucking and licking and biting until you're writhing against him, hips rolling restlessly, seeking friction. Your core throbs, molten heat gathering between your thighs.

"Satoru," you gasp, arching into his touch. "Feels so good."

He hums around your nipple, the vibrations making you shudder. His free hand glides down your side, skimming over your ribs and waist, before gripping your hip possessively.

Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the wet nipple before his lips trail lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. He sucks a mark into the curve of your hip, tongue soothing the sting.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, starting to tug them down. But then he pauses, looking up at you through his lashes with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Tell me what you want, love. Tell me how you want me to pleasure you."

You swallow hard, mind hazy. "Your mouth," you manage to gasp out. "Want your mouth on me."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "As you wish."

With deliberate slowness, he drags your underwear down your legs, baring you completely to his gaze. He settles between your thighs, hands smoothing up your trembling legs to grip your hips, spreading you wider for him. Fingertips press into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises.

"Look at you. So wet for me already. Bet you've been dripping for me all night, haven't you?"

Then, he dips his head, and the first hot swipe of his tongue through your folds has you crying out, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his hair. Satoru moans at your taste, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive flesh.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck, seeking more of his tongue on you, but his hands hold you firmly in place. He teases you with slow licks, ghosting over where you need him most.

"God, Satoru, please," you whimper. "No more teasing."

"So needy."

But he obeys, diving in like a man starved, mouth hot and wet against your core, his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Before his tongue delves deep, fucking into you with lazy, wet strokes.

Your hips buck against his face, a strangled moan rips from your throat. Satoru's hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you.

"That's it, love," he encourages, pulling back just enough to speak. "Let me hear you. Want everyone in the building to know who's making you feel this good."

Your thighs tremble around his head, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on you filling the room. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core with every stroke of his tongue.

"Tell me, love. Tell me how desperate you've been for me, how soaked you've been all night thinking about my cock."

"So badly," you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair. "Needed you to touch me, to fill me up. Please, Satoru, I need you to fuck me already."

He swears under his breath.

"You can't just say things like that. Gonna fucking ruin you, you know that?"

Then suddenly, without warning, he thrusts two thick fingers deep into your dripping core. A silent scream falls from your lips at the stretch, back arching off the stairs.

Satoru sets a relentless pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you, while his tongue works on your clit. "Like this? Is this what you needed?"

"Yes, yes. More."

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Satoru growls.

He withdraws his fingers abruptly, ignoring your whine of protest. You watch through hooded eyes as he hurriedly strips off his clothes, revealing inches of toned muscle.

When Satoru finally frees himself from the confines of his pants, you mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His length is impressive, long and thick, the smooth skin flushed a deep rose color. The broad head is shiny with moisture, a bead of clear fluid leaking from the tip.

Satoru wraps a large hand around himself, giving a slow stroke from root to tip. His cock throbs in his grip, another pulse of slick pre-cum dripping from the slit. He groans low in his throat, head tipping back momentarily at the sensation after so long spent straining against his zipper.

You watch transfixed as he pumps himself lazily, putting on a show. His fist twists over the head on every upstroke, smearing the leaking liquid to ease the glide.

"See what you do to me?" Satoru rasps, blue eyes boring into yours as his hand speeds up. "See how hard I am for you, how much I'm leaking? I've been like this all fucking night."

He swipes his thumb over the weeping tip, gathering the drops of pre-cum beading there. "Been thinking about this all night. I know you wore that skirt just for me, didn't you? Wanted to rile me up, tease me until I snapped?"

Then he's bringing his thumb to your lips, painting your bottom lip with his cum, parting your lips. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eyes never leaving him. Satoru's eyes darken as he watches you lick his cum from his fingertips.

"Mm, and what if I didn't? What if I put this skirt on for Suguru, hoping he'd be the one to take me home tonight?"

"Is that so? Well, tough luck. Couse I'm gonna stuff this needy little pussy so full of cock you'll be ruined for anyone else. Gonna make it so you never forget who you belongs to."

"Oh really?" you challenge.

Licking your lips, you reach out to wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the hot, silken skin and the way he throbs against your palm. Satoru hisses through his teeth at the contact, hips canting into your fist instinctively.

"Fuck, your hand feels good." He watches intently as you start to stroke him from root to tip. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You tighten your grip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Satoru groans, low and guttural, as another pulse of slick pre-cum leaks from his slit. You smear it with your thumb. Satoru's abs clench, his cock kicking in your grip.

You lean in to drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein there from base to tip. Satoru shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you swirl your tongue around the leaking tip, lapping up the salty-bitter cum of his.

Desperate to be filled, you suck the broad head past your lips and tonguing at the sensitive underside.

Satoru's hips buck, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, relaxing your throat to take him as far as you can. Satoru's hands fly to your hair, fisting in the strands as he guides your movements. He rocks into your mouth, clearly holding back from truly fucking your face.

"So good, fuck, just like that. Taking me so well, so fucking good."

Saliva pools in your mouth, dripping down your chin as he works himself deeper into your throat. Your eyes water but you don't pull off. Just as you're starting to get lightheaded, lungs burning with the need for air, Satoru eases you off him with a groan.

A string of saliva connects your swollen lips to his cock for a heated moment before snapping. You gulp down air greedily, staring up at him with watery eyes.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," Satoru rasps, thumb swiping tenderly at the spittle on your chin. "I could spend all night fucking you and never get enough."

"Then fuck me already," you say, before giving his length a parting long lick along the underside.

"Oh, I'll fill you up alright, Gonna stuff this needy cunt so full of cock you'll feel me for days."

With that, he takes himself in hand, rubbing the thick tip through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He's not penetrating, not yet, just teasing you with the promise of it. The broad head of his cock catches on your entrance with every pass.

"Feel that, love? Feel how hard I am for you? How much I want to bury myself in this tight little cunt?"

You can only whimper in response. But Satoru holds firm, keeping his movements shallow and teasing. He drags the thick length of his shaft up through your folds, the underside rubbing against your clit.

"Satoru, please. Stop teasing. I need you inside me."

"Patience," he coos, even as his hips stutter slightly, betraying his own desperate need. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long, dreaming about having you spread out beneath me. At least let me torture you a little bit first."

He punctuates his words with another slow drag of his cock against you, the head notching into your entrance for a breathless second before sliding up to grind against your clit.

"Please," you whimper, past the point of caring how desperate you sound. "Please, I can't take it anymore. I need you, need to fuck me."

Satoru hisses through his teeth. "Fuck, the things you say," he groans, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "You have no idea what you do to me, how crazy you make me."

Despite his words, he doesn't relent, continuing his shallow thrusts, painting your folds with your combined arousal.

"I want to savor this," he breathes, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Want to feel every inch of you before I bury myself deep. Want you trembling and desperate, want you to fucking fall apart before I even get inside."

And oh, you're close, so dangerously close to doing just that.

Every slide of his cock against your clit sends sparks skittering up your spine, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Satoru, I can't... I need... oh fuck, please, please just fuck me, please."

Your desperate rambling seems to shatter the last of Satoru's restraint. He lines himself up and sinks into you in one smooth, powerful thrust, not stopping until he's buried to the hilt.

You've never felt so full, stuffed to the brim as he works himself deeper, inch by maddening inch. When he's fully seated, hips flush against yours, you both moan at the sensation. He's so deep like this, touching places inside you that have you seeing sparks.

For a moment, you just breathe together, foreheads pressed close, savoring the feeling of being connected so intimately. Then Satoru starts to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

He sets a deep, maddening rhythm, hips withdrawing nearly all the way before surging forward again. The drag of his cock inside you is intoxicating, hitting every sensitive spot, stroking the ache that's been building for what feels like hours.

Your nails rake down Satoru's back as he fucks you closer to the edge, leaving red lines in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming shorter and more focused, the sound of slapping skin echoing off the walls of the stairwell.

"Satoru," you moan, his name the only word you remember, the only one that matters. "Satoru, please, I'm so close…"

Bracing one hand against the stairs next to your head, he picks up speed, pounding into you with faster, harder. The force of his thrusts threatens to push you up the steps, your head perilously close to banging against the hard surface.

You reach up, pushing your hands against the stairs above you for leverage, using the resistance to meet Satoru's increasingly powerful strokes.

"Fuck, just like that," he pants, blue eyes wild and heated as they bore into yours. "Take it, take every inch of me. Want to feel you come on my cock, want to feel you squeezing me so fucking tight."

His filthy words, the relentless thrusts of his hips, the long drag of his shaft against your walls — it's all too much, too good. You can feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment.

"Please," you whimper. "Please, I need… I need…"

"I know what you need, love."

He snakes a hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He rubs your swollen clit in tight, focused circles, the added stimulation exactly what you need.

With one last deep thrust, the head of his cock kisses your cervix, and that's all it takes. Your body convulses around Satoru's plunging length.

Satoru works you through it, hips never faltering even as your spasming muscles threaten his control. He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding deep and rubbing your clit until you're shaking and sobbing.

Only when you collapse back against the stairs, boneless and spent, does he allow his own release to overtake him. With a last few erratic thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his thick cock pulsing as he spills deep inside you.

His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving bruises, as he rides out his orgasm, hips stuttering and jerking with each pulse of his release. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his movements slow, then still.

Satoru collapses forward, his trembling arms barely supporting his weight as he rests his forehead against yours. You both struggle to catch your breath, chests heaving

"Fuck, that was... incredible," he pants before capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he straightens up, his softening cock still buried inside you. His heated gaze drifts down to where your bodies are joined. He watches as his release begins to trickle out of you, coating his length and dripping down your thighs to pool on the stairs beneath you.

"God, that's so fucking hot."

With a shuddering exhale, he slowly pulls out of you, a low hiss escaping his lips at the drag of your walls against his oversensitive cock. His eyes remain locked on your well-used sex, watching as more of his cum leaks out of you.

"Look at you. So messy and full of my cum. So perfect."

Unable to resist, Satoru settles between your thighs once more, his broad shoulders pushing them even further apart. He takes a moment to admire the view before diving in again.

A moan spills from your lips as he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive core, lapping up the evidence of your coupling with long, indulgent strokes. He hums against your core, the vibrations making you shudder and clench around nothing.

Satoru takes his time, cleaning every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, circling your entrance before dipping inside to chase the lingering taste of your combined releases.

"Could spend hours just like this," Satoru murmurs between licks. "Would you like that, love? Like me to keep you full and sloppy and dripping all night?"

"Satoru," you whimper, thighs trembling around his head as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. "I can't... it's too much..."

"Oh, I'm sure you can take one more. Just let me take care of you. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

He works his way inward, tongue tracing teasing circles around your entrance before delving inside. He laps at your walls, coaxing his own cum from your depths only to fuck it back into you with deep, sloppy strokes.

The wet sounds of his tongue between your legs fill the room, punctuated by your needy moans and gasps. Heat coils tight in your core once more despite your exhaustion.

Satoru feels you tense. "There she is. I knew my greedy girl had one more in her. Gonna give it to me, aren't you? Gonna come all over my tongue like a good girl."

His words set your blood on fire, a broken sob escaping your lips as he seals them around your clit once more. He sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly over it as he fucks into you harder, faster.

"Ah, oh god. Satoru, please..."

Then, two thick fingers ease into you once again, curling forward to stroke that spot that makes your toes curl. He works them in tandem with his tongue, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing until you're keening his name, hips rolling mindlessly against his face.

His nose nudges against your oversensitive clit with every thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine.

"Come on, love" he praises. "Ride my tongue, fuck yourself on my fingers. Want to feel you come all over me, want to taste you."

It only takes a few more purposeful strokes of his fingers and flicks of his tongue before you're come undone once again with a wordless cry, back bowing off the stairs as your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

Satoru works you through it, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort. Only when the last aftershock fades does he ease his fingers free. Satoru presses a final, tender kiss to your oversensitive clit before crawling up your body, pressing sloppy kisses to your sweat-dampened skin as he goes.

"You did so good for me, love, coming so hard for me. So perfect," Satoru praises, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck and chest as you try to catch your breath.

When he reaches your breasts, he palms them gently, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples and making you gasp. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to your chest as he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth once more.

He laves it with his tongue, swirling his tongue around it before he lavishes the same attention on your other breast, alternating between soft licks and lazy swirls, while his hand starts to dip lower.

"Satoru? What are you doing?"

Eventually, Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, soothing the ache with a final swipe of his tongue, his hand skating over your ribs and belly with clear intent.

He grins up at you, boyish and unrepentant. "What does it look like I'm doing? Maybe you've got one more in you, hmm?"

"Absolutely not. I'm fucking done, Satoru."

He pouts playfully, fingertips still tracing feather-light patterns on your lower belly. "Aw, come on, love. Just one more? I bet if I just…"

His hand starts to dip lower, fingertips just brushing your still-tingling clit. But before he can make contact, your foot plants itself firmly in the center of his chest and pushes him slightly away. "Hands off, Satoru."

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," he concedes, hands raised in surrender. "No more orgasms for you. For now."

"You're impossible."

Satoru grins. "You love it."

"You wish."

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

[aziraphales-library]

Hiii! First of all I wanted to thank you all for the amazing work that you do. Your suggestions are always on point. Now, for the question, I was wondering if you know any fics that are similar to secondhand smoke. Maybe about Catholic guilt and/or coming out? Thank you :))

Hello! We have a #religious guilt tag you might be interest in. Here are some religious conflict/coming out fics...

Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU by Jelly_Jenkins (T)

When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.

The Day You Eat of It by K1ngB (E)

It all started as it will end... at a summer camp (with strangely religious undertones). In Aziraphale's mind, the best part of summer was those two weeks spent with the children. Just as eager to absorb new information and experiences as he was to teach the next generation same as he was at this same camp nearly ten years ago. A lot has changed since then, namely the amount of blatant proselytizing but some things always stay the same. In Crowley's mind, he gets to see the apple of his eye for two weeks every year, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of it. He sustains himself on the discreet glances, the creeping blushes, and the inevitable banter of his favorite camp counselor. He is prepared for the long game and was nailing it if he was being honest... And then he got caught wanking in the showers and it's all downhill from there. or Summer Camp Counselor AU. Crowley is a sappy pining fool and Aziraphale has no idea what's going on.

search terms by Vagabond (M)

Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed. From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

And the one you mentioned...

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

- Mod D

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 14

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, dirty talk, fingering, mention of p in v sex.

Part 14

"We can't keep doing this," Liana said as she lay on her back, breathing heavily, with Patrick in the same position beside her. "What the actual fuck are you talking about, Liana?" His disdainful voice echoed through the unfurnished apartment. "I can't hear your voice anymore. I really can't," she mumbled, turning her back to him, which made him grab her hair in a firm but not strong fist.

"You didn't have a problem hearing me while I was fucking you, Li. Kind of hypocritical, don't you think?" he sneered, pulling her closer. "Do you always have to be so crude and disgusting? Seriously, I'm askin—" He cut her off by pushing a finger into her mouth. Not too hard, he knew she would open it just enough to take exactly what he wanted to give her.

"Maybe I'm the one who can't hear you anymore, did you think of that option?" he tightened his grip on her hair, pushing the finger a bit deeper, hearing her choke lightly but not trying to resist. "Complaining all day. Something always bothers you. Never saying 'thank you' for how good I am to you," he added another finger and she turned her head for a second but steadied herself quickly.

Liana wanted to answer him but his fingers, pumping in her mouth, kept her busy. And the heat of New York in July was driving her crazy. They had just finished fucking; it didn't make sense that she was so horny again.

"Say sorry," he said in a steady voice to her ear. "If you say sorry and let me smoke a damn cigarette without fighting with me, maybe I'll push these fingers into your pussy." She shook her head no, making him chuckle. "You're such a slut, Liana. You know that if you start a fight the second after you cum, I'll want to fuck you again. Say fucking sorry." She moaned into his fingers, closing her eyes, clearly imagining them inside her soaked pussy. It wasn't clear if she was this wet from the sex they had a few minutes ago, or from the words he was saying to her now with that grip on her hair.

"Sorry," she said as his fingers tickled her throat and she choked on her own words. "Again," he didn't move an inch. Aware of her discomfort. "Sorry," she said. She could come from this situation. He knew she could come like this exactly. Without him touching her at all. "My little slut, who spends all day looking for a fight, wants to come?" he asked, amused. His dick hadn't even had a chance to get hard again and she was already so worked up. So easy for him to push her to the edge.

"Yes. Please, Patrick," into his fingers, she let out an unreasonable amount of saliva. He pulled them out and pushed them directly to where she needed him. "I don't want to hear a peep from you. The first moan and I pull them out," he said. "Is this the only way I can get some peace and quiet in this house? Only when I put something inside you, Liana?" All he heard in response was her heavy breathing. He turned her onto her back again.

"You want to make your pretty noises so badly and you can't. Such a pity you're a brat, huh, Li?" He saw the tears gathering in her eyes from the effort not to make any sound. Because she knew he would stop. He was that much of a dickhead. And all Liana wanted was to scream his name over and over and over. Patrick. Patrick. Patrick.

"You like hearing my voice now, huh?" he said, adding a third finger and feeling her tighten around him with a sigh she couldn't keep in. She never knew how to come quietly and that would always be Patrick's favorite sound. He chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of her and lay back beside her.

"Can I smoke now or are we still fighting?" he asked, rolling his eyes and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "I don't think you have any more orgasms to give me today," he stated and lit the cigarette.

"Can you at least smoke by the window?" She rolled her eyes and he sighed, mustering the last of his energy to stand by the window. Quiet again. Exactly what Patrick wanted. He wanted her to be silent sometimes so much that he hated himself for needing to just not hear her voice. Not always. Just occasionally, when he heard her too much.

"I'm going to take a shower." She mumbled and locked herself in the bathroom. Liana took a deep breath as she leaned on the sink, looking at herself in the small mirror. They had landed almost a week ago. The apartment still looked like a homeless person was squatting in it. The bathroom wall was peeling and it bothered her. Patrick said he would fix it. That's the only reason she didn't insist on seeing other apartments. She turned on the cold water, trying to cool down the heat and anger she felt. Returning to America was weighing on her, and Patrick had forgotten her birthday yesterday. That's what they had been fighting about for a day now.

"Sorry I expected my boyfriend of the past three years to remember I have a birthday. My bad," she shouted, tears in her eyes. She needed a break from all the stress of the move, job hunting, and avoiding meeting her parents. She needed one evening with Patrick at a silly restaurant to feel she could get through this period. But no, even that he couldn't give her.

"Li, you always celebrated with Ar—" he started. "That excuse doesn't work, Patrick. Think of a new one. Where were you and why was it more important than being with me today?" She crossed her arms under her chest. If she could, she would have thrown something at him. "I met up with Logan and Dave from boarding school." He lowered his head. Embarrassed. He was fully-drunk right now, Liana hadn't noticed yet.

To his defense, he felt terrible. He went out to get drunk with friends from the past on his girlfriend's birthday. It wasn't a good feeling. "I'll make it up to you, Li." He said, and she looked at him with teary eyes and a disgusted expression. "You make me sick, Patrick. I could literally throw up right now," she said. She always knew how to say the hardest things to hear in the middle of fights. Lately, they had been fighting so much that Patrick had become indifferent.

"Then you wonder why even on your birthday I don't want to be with you. With all due respect, Liana, you're unbearable." He said coldly, stepping away from her, hoping she wouldn't smell the alcohol on him. Regretting the amount he drank. But he got carried away, and he hadn't seen his friends in literally years, and he knew in another world, Art could have been there too, so they drank and enjoyed, and then he came back to the dingy apartment they rented and the girl he shared his life with, and he felt like his soul was sucked out of him in a second.

"I'm not forcing you to be with me, Patrick. You can take your shit and leave. Better yet, I'll take my shit and leave this place. I'm pretty sure there's asbestos in the walls." She rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of wine.

And then he apologized and apologized and apologized, and they fucked and fucked and fucked, and each in turn wondered aloud if this was how their whole lives would look.  And each in turn wanted to cry and shake the person in front of them, and usually, there were no turns at all, they just shouted at each other simultaneously. Who forgets their girlfriend's birthday? Their truly objectively wonderful girlfriend. The one who goes with him to tournaments. The one who listens to him after he fights with his parents. The one who lets him fuck her in the filthiest ways imaginable.

That's how they had been all day, and Liana was exhausted. She had no more strength for the shouting seminar imposed on her. She had no desire to fuck anymore, and she had no desire to forgive him for every fuck-up he made.

"I'm going to sleep." She mumbled as she came out of the shower dressed only in her underwear. "Like that?" He asked with a smile. "Yes, Patrick. You didn't bother with air conditioning in the apartment, so like this." She rolled her eyes. Again with her back to him, making him sigh.

"Are we still fighting?" He asked after fifteen minutes. He knew she wasn't asleep yet because she breathed differently when she slept. "I don't know, Patrick, are we still fighting?" Liana's voice was quiet and defeated. "Can you turn towards me?" He asked softly. It was the first time he spoke to her softly since this round of fights began. So Liana turned, and he gently moved some hair from her face, in the gentlest motion he could muster.

"I really am sorry, Li. You know I'm sorry, right?" He asked. Liana could see by the moonlight streaming through the window that his eyebrows were furrowed. "I know, Pat. I just don't understand how the fact that you're sorry helps me anymore." She sounded calm, but her sigh expressed frustration. "I'll try harder. We'll have a date night tomorrow. I'll make it up to you, Lilo." He smiled, tracing circles on her cheek. He knew he could turn things around. It's him and Liana. They had had more serious fights than her crappy birthday. Who cares about birthdays anyway?

"We really can't keep doing this, Pat..." She said what she had said to him half an hour ago, only in a different tone. "Doing what?" He knew she needed to release it. To say everything clearly and sharply, and he needed to take a deep breath and then tell her she was right and let it pass with the night. "We can't scream the worst things in the world at each other." She sighed, "You can't grab my hair and then—" "You love it when I grab your hair," they both rolled their eyes when he interrupted her. "That's not the point. You can't scream at me that I'm unbearable and then grab my hair and fuck me and think everything is fine after we cum. We're trying to build something. We just moved into this shithole, and we already can't look at each other. It's fucking scary." She concluded. "Can I?" He asked for permission to speak, and she nodded, knowing his piercing gaze could see her even in the dark. "First of all, you also say hurtful shit, Liana. I usually just respond to it. Secondly, I'll say it again—you love when I grab your hair. I won't detail how we found that out, because I remember you were there. And then you were there every time I did it again. You also kinda love it when I fuck you. Not as much as I love fucking you, but you love it." He ended with humor, making her giggle and he thinks it was the first time he heard her laugh since they moved into this apartment. Since they returned to America.

"I'm scared too. My balls are shaking most of the time." He shrugged. "But I know that no matter how bad everything is, I come home and you're here." He intertwined his fingers with hers. "And I'll fix the bathroom wall, and tomorrow we'll buy the biggest fan we can find." He said. "Your autobiography will be called 'Fights and Fucks' by Patrick Zweig," Liana said in response, moving closer to him, laying her head on his chest, and closing her eyes. "You're the muse, Amanda." They both laughed. So maybe everything would be fine, and they could actually keep doing this.

Liana stood in front of the Donaldson family home, taking a deep breath, a bit hesitant to ring the doorbell. She had video calls with Art’s parents every few months. They were interested in her and Patrick’s lives, as expected from people who raised her as if she were their own.

Now that she was back in America, she had no choice but to attend the annual family gathering for her and Art’s birthday. Art. She hadn’t spoken to Art in years. Once, she never thought she’d say such a sentence, but it was the truth. After his grandmother passed away, they both realized they needed to move on with their lives, each in their own direction. She knew Tashi had started coaching him; that’s all her dad talked about for a while. The Tashi Duncan coaching ‘our Art.’ He wasn’t theirs at all. Maybe her dad had taken ownership of him, but the connection between her and Art Donaldson was purely coincidental.

“The doorbell is right there.” She heard his voice and instinctively closed her eyes, briefly passing a hand over her nose. “I know where the doorbell is, Donaldson.” She replied, not daring to turn and look at him. “You can open the door, I live here.” She rolled her eyes at his tone, as if he had won an argument that no one was having with him.

And speaking of arguments, she and Patrick had fought again that morning. He was supposed to come with her. At the last minute, he chickened out. Said he had a training session scheduled without his knowledge. As if she didn’t know Patrick. The thought of sitting around the same table with Art made him tremble with fear, and he preferred to leave her alone. As far as she was concerned, he could shove a racket up his ass if he was desperate to come this week. She didn’t plan on touching him or sleeping in the same bed as him.

They entered the house quietly, Art still behind her, examining what he could see. His heart was beating so fast it was embarrassing. He felt like he was sixteen. It had been three years since he saw Liana, and it felt like losing a limb. Sometimes he wondered if he ever knew her at all. If he hadn’t invented this girl. His dream girl whom he got to hug for exactly two nights. But then his parents would say something about how she was doing. Or about Patrick. Or that they were living together in London now. And then the news that they were moving back to America.

Art wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was almost sure he shed a tear when he heard they were coming back. And he didn’t even know why, because they had been in a relationship for years, and he had been alone for years. But the possibility of seeing her again gave him hope. He didn’t know what kind of hope, but it was there. And it was exciting. Art couldn’t remember the last time he was excited. Maybe when Tashi agreed to coach him.

And now he was sitting next to Liana, by the pool. Like every other summer. As if nothing had changed. As if it was just Liana and him with a cake and two spoons. As if he was used to seeing her with bangs and as if her green summer dress was no different from anything he’d seen her wear throughout their lives. “Tell me something good, and I’ll let you have some of my cake.” They had been in this situation before, but now it was so loaded. “I don’t eat cakes anymore.” She said with existential seriousness, and Art raised an eyebrow. He had no way to argue with that; he didn’t know her eating habits, but he was ready to go to war for this cake. There was nothing Liana loved more than this cake his mom made every year for her.

“I’m 24 already, for two weeks now, unlike you. It's a mediocre age, don’t expect too much.” She said, not letting him sit with those thoughts for too long. She reached for the cake, and he handed her a spoon. “What’s wrong with 24?” Art asked. “You’re old, Art. No one will think it’s cool if you wear your cap backwards. And bills. Paying for electricity sucks.” She shrugged.

“I heard you guys are living in New York…” Art said after a few minutes of silence. “Yeah, we found this great apartment,” she smiled a forced smile. Who was she kidding? Art knew every one of her smiles. No matter how much time had passed. He knew Liana. “In New York.” He said again. “Yes, still there. Nothing changed in the last two seconds.” She replied with sarcasm.

“How’s Patrick?” He asked. He knew he shouldn’t have. But he also wanted to know, and the fact that he didn’t come bothered him. “Everything’s great, he had a training session today that he couldn’t move. He sends his regards.” She said. A bit too quickly. As if she had rehearsed it. Patrick didn’t send him anything. Maybe he wished he’d go to hell and hoped a truck would run him over. He didn’t send him any regards. Art appreciated the lie.

“Tell him thanks. That 24 is a good age for some changes.” Art said, taking a big bite of the cake but not taking his eyes off Liana, who started to blush while rolling her eyes.

He couldn’t believe she was sitting in front of him, blushing. So many possibilities.

Hello :) how are we feeling with that time jump? We're all grown-ups now. Back in America again.  You're more than welcome to talk to me as usual.  taglist is open as well. Hope you are still enjoying this xx 💜

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[maevelin]

The thing about friends

You know friends are wonderful. They can be one's chosen family. They share secrets, weaknesses, truths. They are there for each other.

A true friend will be supportive, will hold you when you cry, and will know your fears and aspirations. They will even know your toxic parts too and be there for your nonetheless without judgement.

Now all that IS BRILLIANT.

But when true friends FIGHT, damn they know EXACTLY where to hit to make it hurt.

Take Penelope and Eloise for example:

-An insipid wallflower

-At least a I did something, all you do is talk.

Like...oh dear...those two!

Now many times in friendships there is communication and sometimes you can have petty arguments or you can actually hurt each other and like in every other relationship honesty and communication and forgiveness is the key to move forward and actually create stronger bonds and a more mature relationship.

THEN.

You get the Friends to Lovers trope.

And all is beautiful and great BUT friends can and will FIGHT. Either for legitimate reasons or stupid reasons. So while this trope is one that is meant to be romantic and sweet and safe and fluffy there is another aspect to it.

There is the transition from friends to adding to the lovers part which requires a form of change that shakes the foundation in order to build on it something new which can create insecurity too because you are now in new territory (plus point you are doing it with your best friend, you can do it together / negative point you are doing it with your best friend, if you screw it up you can hurt your best friend or worse...lose them)

And in all of that...Friends know each other best. And if they get to a point where they are cornered and suffering and they lash out (and that happens usually to the people we love the most) THEY KNOW WHERE TO HIT TO DO THE MOST DAMAGE. Most of the times they do not but if something truly hurts it can get the best of you, even for a moment, either it is intentional or not and by the time you regret it, it is out in the open.

So you get Penelope and Colin and they know each other. They grew up together and I do not know if you have sent letters to other people as a form of communication but believe me when I say...that THEY KNOW EACH OTHER. Their friendship is SOLID.

So friends to lovers and as sweet as that can be there is also the part where:

I Know your personality is fake. It is a ploy. Do you even know it? You are not fooling anyone.

Maybe this was part of your entrapment. (my ploy, your ploy, we ploy)

Both Penelope and Colin knew each other's greatest fears and traumas and even subconsciously they know exactly where to hit. That can be part of friendship too.

Then there is the duality.

Identity and Purpose was something both had trouble with.

Colin kept running away with his travels, he was searching for his purpose, he tries to fit in and be accepted and due to past trauma he changed his whole personality and wore an armor. He literally became a rake in order to fit in but also in order to show to "others" hey, you can't demean me anymore, I can best you in your game!

Penelope created a whole other persona in Whistledown to have a voice and it was her shield while she was still searching for confidence and a way to express herself and be included. And Whistledown could not tolerate a lie but she could also be a sharp instrument to hurt others who have given Penelope hurt.

Then you have the entrapment things, second duality.

Colin has his past with Marina.

Penelope's mother accuses her that she trapped Colin.

Their I LOVE YOU literally comes from this premise, that this is not a trap. This is real. And you are the one person, my best friend, that I know will never hurt me.

Now the entrapment accusation is leading to the fact that maybe their friendship is not real, it has all been a lie and their future holds a loveless match which is their combined greatest fear.

So when those two do not communicate as they should, given how THEY ARE FRIENDS, and how they know each other deeply, sometimes it is bound to get UGLY.

And guess what. It did. Realistically speaking...it happens. Especially if you feel betrayed by your closest friend. Or if you afraid you will lose your best friend and hide things and so on.

But in end it was alright exactly because they are true friends first and foremost and that kind of bond is unique and they kind find they way back to each other, solve their issues and become stronger than before.

Would I have liked a better way of showing this in basically only two episodes left in S3? Yes. I would. More scenes would have been nice too.

BUT the did show it. And I can appreciate the thought and effort.