#Once I finally nail down the fabric ones I am going to do a proper write up tutorial of them

[mctreeleth]

I am still working on how to get consistent results for my zippered dice bags using fabric and batting but if you have a scrap of leather and 50cm of zipper laying about this is probably my actual favourite so far.

It's pocket sized but it can hold 2 sets and it opens into a little rolling tray.

Split the zip in half, double up one half, thread the zipper pull, mark the lengths along the zip from the centre side starting at the point when it is fully closed, match the marks and use those little clip things to hold the zip in place, sew about 2mm from the edge leaving a 2cm gap where the ends meet. Zip it closed to make sure it aligns right. Trim the excess zipper and use something to seal the end of it (I use LED resin).

The basic theory is the same no matter the size, so you can also use this technique to make bigger rolling bags too.

[ushiluv]

Good Little Girl 

step-daddy!atsumu x reader 

recently divorced, your mom was quick to find a new boy toy to spend her time with, but what happens when that boy toy finds interest in you? (wc: 1635)

warnings 

somnophilia (kinda?), creepy tsumu, overstimulation, age gap (reader is an adult), one (1) pussy slap and one (1) face slap, dumbification, reader has female anatomy, size kink, nipple play, breeding kinda, sex with no protection... also NOT proof read (yet)

note from the author 

this is the first smut i’ve ever published pls lmk what you think about it and what i could improve! always open to criticism 

The divorce did not take as big of a toll on your mom as you thought it would. You thought that being cheated on by her husband of 20 years would ruin her life but it didn’t, quite the contrary actually.

When you met Atsumu, you didn’t really know what to think. 28 years old and a career already secured, you wondered what he and your mother had in common. The age gap between them was big, big enough to make people’s eyes widen at the revelation of it, but neither him or your mom seemed to care.

Atsumu was quick to develop an interest in you. Who wouldn’t? You were everything he wanted and more; the thought of the woman he was dating was already far gone for him, he wanted you and what Atsumu wants, Atsumu gets. That probably explains the lingering touches on your body, the far too heavy stares on you, the weird interest in your love life. You couldn’t deny that the attention he gave you didn’t make you feel a little funny on the inside. Atsumu was a clearly attractive and successful man, but it felt wrong. Wrong, but not wrong enough for you to play with yourself at night, wishing it was his fingers instead of yours, and fantasizing about a reality where you two could be a couple.  

Little muffled moans left your mouth, it was late at night, your mom and her boyfriend already fast asleep. With a hand on your mouth and the other down your pretty baby blue panties, you started wondering how Atsumu’s hands would feel, how his calloused experienced hands would toy with you. The thought was enough to bring you to the edge and you finally released with a whimper of his name leaving your pretty lips. Too tired to move, you fell asleep in the same position, one hand on your stomach and the other on your naked chest.

Atsumu was a morning person. Getting out of the bed he shared with the woman next to him last night, he made his way to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of you before the day started. Slightly pushing your bedroom door, the sight in front of him left him breathless. Your nipples were perked due to the cold temperature of the room, your sleeping face was so peaceful and calm, Atsumu felt his boxers getting tighter. He didn’t know what pushed him to do his next move, he knew deep down it was wrong but he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He welcomed himself inside your room and quietly closed the door behind him.

“You’re so pretty” he whispered to himself as he placed a knee on your bed and leaned down. A hand of his came up to your face to push away a few strands of hair, letting him catch a better view of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “Gonna take good care of you.”

He was quick to kiss the skin of your boobs, warming them up for his hot tongue. He would look up at you once in a while, checking if his ministrations had woken you up but you were still in deep sleep. Feeling bolder, he opened his mouth and let himself suck on your left nipples, coating the little bud with his saliva. He couldn’t stop himself from biting down a bit, causing a little whimper to leave your mouth. He smirked to himself as he continued toying with your chest.

The weight on your chest began to be hard to ignore. Opening your eyes slowly, the sight in front of you almost made you believe you were still dreaming.

“T-tsumu?” your voice was quiet and sleepy, but it only made his cock twitch.

“Shh pretty girl” he kissed your jaw “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded. Taking this as a sign, Atsumu properly straddled your hips and helped you take off your shirt.

He let out a breath. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at me when your mom is away.” his voice was raspy and soft, he tried to keep it down. “You’re a dirty girl, you know that? Fantasizing about your mother’s boyfriend.” a low chuckle left his mouth as your cheeks turned a bright red colour.

He left a kiss on your forehead and lowered his hand down your body until it reached your crotch. He didn’t break eye contact with you as his hand toyed with the hem of your cotton panties. With a finger, he circled your clit and hummed as he felt the sticky wetness that slowly grew on the fabric.

“You’re soaking wet. Gonna let me ruin your pretty panties? Gonna let me make a mess out of you?”

You were about to respond but the only sound that left your mouth was a loud moan caused by how two of his fingers pinched your clit. “Please touch me.” you breathed.

“But I am touching you, baby. You gotta be more precise, use your words.”

“Please touch me properly, daddy, I’ll do anything.”

Cooing at your begging attempt, he pushed your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside of you. The tightness made him groan and the sound only made you clench around him.

“I can’t wait to destroy you” he mumbled to himself. His fingers started going in and out of you as his thumb played with your little bundle of nerve. Your little whimpers started growing louder and he wanted nothing more to hear you scream his name but he couldn’t afford getting caught either. He leaned down to press a messy open mouthed kiss on your lips, his fingers still toying with your cunt.

“If you want daddy to keep playing with you, you have to keep quiet.” he said against your lips. You slightly nodded and brought a hand to your mouth, hoping it would lower your sounds.

Feeling you get tighter around his two fingers, he let a globule of spit fall in your cunt, making everything even messier. The sight it was enough to bring you over the edge. You climaxed over his fingers with a hand on your mouth while a few praises left his mouth and traveled to your ears.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” he removed his hand from your messy hole and gave a small tap to your clit. The gesture made you flinch. “Came around daddy’s fingers with no shame.”

Seeing him bring his fingers to your mouth, you parted your lips open and invited them in. Your tongue swirled around his two digits and you could feel his hard on pressing against your thigh. Grabbing his wrist with two hands, you removed his fingers from your mouth.

“Wanna make daddy feel good now.” you said, looking up at him.

Atsumu swore he lost his mind at that moment. Without wasting any time, he lowered his boxers to his thighs and let his cock spring free. With wide eyes, you wondered if you would be able to take him. He started playing with you using the tip of his cock, sliding it through your wet folds.

“Is it gonna fit?” you asked with a small voice.

“Hm?” Atsumu was mesmerized by how tiny your cunt looked next to him. “We’ll make it fit.”

As he said those words, he pushed slightly into your hole. The tip made it past your entrance. Seeing the tears in your eyes, Atsumu smirked to himself.

“You’re doing so good, doll. Taking me so good” he pushed a bit more, “The worst is already over lemme bottom out, baby, please” he begged as he waited for any form of consent from you. When you nodded your head, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. With one swift motion, his cock was finally fully inside you. You could feel his tip kissing your cervix and that one spot even you have a hard time to reach. It’s when he started moving that you felt yourself completely lost.

“ ‘so… is so good” you breathed.

“Yeah? Princess is going stupid over her daddy’s cock?” he gave a light slap to your right cheek “Look at you drooling like a dumb puppy.” he chuckled.

He kept drilling into you, muttering a few curse words and groaning when he felt your gummy walls clench around him. He started rubbing messy circles on your clit with three fingers, all thought of waking up your mom were already forgotten, he just wanted to feel you cum around his dick no matter how loud you two were being.

“I’m almost there daddy” you said as your nails dipped into his forearms.

“Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you cream”. He groaned

A few more thrusts were enough to make you come undone around him. The clenching of your cunt had him spill his load inside you. With his cock still in your warmth, he let himself fall on you, hugging your body closer to his. None of you said anything for a few minutes, still recuperating from the shock of your orgasms. He leaned back again and slowly removed his dick from your pussy, taking a mental picture of how you clenched around nothing as some of his cum spilled out of your hole. He put his boxers back to place and replaced your panties into their original position. 

He patted your crotch.“Keep it inside you, don’t want you to waste a drop.”

You hummed, too dizzy to hold a proper conversation. Suddenly, a sense of panic took over you. “Wait daddy, I’m not on the pill.” 

“I know, baby.” he placed a kiss on your forehead and left your room as quietly as he entered it.

[the-dream-team]

hi dylan! i've seen you around a lot but never interacted with your posts before (a tragic error) so i wanted to remedy that by saying that 'July' was very beautiful and utterly perfect!

P.S. I've heard some mumblings about Shirtless James May 👀👀 here is my formal request for you to participate 😂

Oh my gosh, hi! I’ve definitely seen your username around, so it’s lovely to finally say hello :) That’s so sweet, I’m glad you liked July- it was very fun to write! And you know what else was fun to write? This ridiculous one shot for Shirtless JP May, dedicated you, @sunshine-marauders <3

Three Times Lily Evans Did NOT Want to See James Potter Shirtless and One Time She Most Certainly Did

***

“Mr. Potter, please put your trousers back on, my boy!”

“Sir, I would, but there’s just no way of telling if this potion might be poisonous, and I’d rather play it safe.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed as she shrugged off her own robes, now covered head to toe in acidic slime from the Dungbomb that had just exploded in her and Sev’s cauldron. The purple liquid smelled something foul, but there was nothing poisonous about what was once a perfectly brewed Sleeping Draught. James Potter knew that, but he’d stripped down to his pants regardless. 

“Really, Professor Slughorn, I don’t mind,” Potter continued while he sauntered back to his own workstation, bare chest puffed out as though he wasn’t practically nude in the middle of the damn classroom. His display garnered a collection of giggles from around the dungeons and a wolf whistle from Remus. “And who am I to deny my fellow third years of this view?”

Lily scoffed. She couldn’t speak for her classmates, but she knew her own view consisted of scrawny limbs, knobbly knees, and the most insufferable smirk known to wizardkind. And when he turned to her with fingers running through his hair and an infuriatingly pointed look in her direction, Lily balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms to keep herself from reaching out to smack that stupid grin and those lopsided glasses clean off his face.

***

“There’d better be a good explanation for this, Potter.”

“It kills me, Evans, because there is an excellent explanation for our current predicament- one that I think you’d find admirable and impressive- but unfortunately we’re sworn to secrecy, so you’ll just have to assign us detentions and continue on with your rounds for the night.”

Lily turned, exasperated, to Remus, whose Prefect’s badge looked awfully heavy on his robes that night. He didn’t meet her eye, instead focusing on his three naked friends standing before them in the middle of the first floor corridor. Well, mostly naked. Each of the fifth year Gryffindor boys held strategically placed Shrivelfig leaves to cover their most intimate areas, but only Peter looked as though that protection was a matter of life or death. Sirius stood as casually as he always did, completely unphased to find himself caught clothesless in the middle of the night, and James somehow looked more confident than usual (if that was even possible) with his chest on full display. He seemed to be strategically flexing every Quidditch-trained muscle as he grinned down at her with that pointed look she’d become far too familiar with. She spent every last drop of concentration keeping her eyes locked on James’ face to avoid any potential… drifting. 

“Did you have any luck?” said Remus after a moment. Lily whipped around in shocked betrayal. He couldn’t possibly approve of this behaviour?

“Not this time,” Sirius responded, “but I got bloody close. Don’t think having clothes makes a difference, but it was worth trying.”

“I’d say we should be on track to making it work before the end of the month,” added James, his crooked grin turning into a proper smile. 

Remus’ eyes sparkled. “Holy shit, that’s brilliant.”

Lily let out a frustrated grunt before turning on her heel to storm away from the disrobed boys and her fellow Prefect, upset that Remus wouldn’t take their duties seriously, but thankful to be out of sight from James’ sharp gaze, finally able to let the blush she’d been desperately fighting back escape across her cheeks.

***

“I’m sorry, Evans, but I don’t make the rules. You’ve got to lose an article of clothing or else you’ll have to forfeit.”

“That’s bollocks, Black, you literally came up with the idea for Strip Exploding Snap this evening.” 

The sixth years were circled up around the Common Room’s fireplace, loose socks and sweaters littering the floor, a half-empty bottle of stolen Firewhisky passing around from hand to hand. If it weren’t for Mary’s ridiculous crush on Sirius, Lily would never have found herself anywhere near this kind of event, but she’d decided to be a good friend, and now she was down to an undershirt and knickers. It was unclear whether her face burned red from the whiskey or the nerves. 

“Look, Evans,” Sirius continued with an air of indifference, “if you’re not going to participate, you can just put your cards back in the pile-”

“I’ll do it for her!” James nearly shouted as he jumped up from his seat, swaying slightly. His eyes as glossy as the crooked glasses falling down his nose. He reached for the collar of his white t-shirt, grabbing hold to pull it over his head, but a competitive rush propelled Lily to her feet. 

“No!” she protested before the shirt could make its way too far up James’ stomach. He froze in place, peering over the fabric at her in confusion. “You can’t just play for me, Potter, that’s not fair. I want to win on my own.”

“Really, Evans, I don’t mind,” laughed James, finally following through to remove the shirt completely. His glasses came off in the process, stuck in the fabric, and Lily nearly choked as her mouth went dry at the full sight of him, broader and fuller than she’d remembered. Had she ever seen him without his glasses before? His face as naked as his torso? She needed another drink. 

“I’m not going to let you cheat,” she said, actually stomping her foot in the process. And to prove the dedication to her claims, she stripped down to her bra and sent James her most determined, pointed stare. His glasses made their way back to his face so fast, he nearly poked his eye out. “Now, put your shirt back on, Potter, or I’ll come over there and do it myself.”

“That’s not the threat you think it is, Evans,” he breathed, nearly choking on his words. 

Lily thought her leaping heart must be horribly visible through her exposed skin.

“Do you both need the rest of us to leave?” chimed in Sirius, throwing Lily from her rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

She immediately sat back down, throwing James his shirt in the process, desperately trying to contain the butterflies threatening to escape through her throat. His shirt never made it back over his head and the rest of the night no longer passed in minutes, but instead in glances stolen from across the room.

***

“Whatever is the problem, Miss Evans, my dear?”

“Sir, I accidentally spilled an entire vial of Mermaid venom all over Potter. It’s burned straight through his robes and I’m worried it might be serious. Do you mind if I leave to take him to Madam Pomfrey’s?”

Professor Slughorn fumbled out a concerned response, granting his blessing, and Lily spared no time grabbing James by the wrist to drag him out of the classroom and through the dungeons. His eyes were wide as he studied the golden liquid eating through the fabric of his sweater. “Is this poisonous?” he asked, fingers fumbling with his deteriorating uniform. 

Lily spun around with emerald fire behind her eyes. “It is,” she responded, stopping him in his tracks as they turned a corner. “So we ought to play it safe and get these off you.”

She watched his eyes flash with sudden realization before she pulled off his sweater and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

The knowing grin that broke out across James’ face sent waves of elation through her heart, radiating out to find him again and pull him down to her. Their mouths met with smiling lips and heavy sighs, eager to reconnect after what felt like ages apart, but in reality, couldn’t have been more than an hour. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” James asked through jagged breaths as he grabbed for the door handle to the nearest broom closet, dragging Lily in after him by the waist. 

“You gave me that look,” she said, laughing slightly as she moved her hands up his warm skin to comb through his tousled hair. “That bloody pointed look you get that drives me crazy.” She kissed him and he deepened it before pausing. 

“Wait. You poisoned me because I looked at you?”

“I spilled poison on you because I wanted to get your shirt off.”

He beamed, his smile brightening the dim, crowded cupboard as he brought his hands up to hold her face. “Well, in that case, who am I to deny you this view?”

She scoffed. Then kissed him again.

[star--anon]

3 Times Wilbur Was A Lee + No That's It, That's The Post

Heyyyyyyy~! I left Tumblr for a little while, but don't worry! I'm back! And I've finally written the prompt that was sent to me over 2 months ago! Yay!

"Listen, I'm sorry, alright?" Tommy huffed out, resting his head on Wilbur's shoulder. "I didn't mean to! Honest! You're just being a big bitch about it!"

Wilbur didn't say anything back. He simply stared at the front door, waiting for Phil to come home with his fixed sweater.

While watching Tommy parade around the house in Wilbur's favorite orange sweater was, to some degree, amusing, it was not amusing when Tommy ripped the soft fabric. And although Phil had gone to get the sweater fixed, Wilbur was still incredibly upset with the seventeen-year-old idiot. He stuck a Post-It on Tommy's forehead with the words, "I am an idiot and Wilbur Soot does not talk to idiots," scrawled on the yellow paper in messy handwriting. He then resigned himself to the couch and waited for Phil to come home, ignoring Tommy's attempts at getting his attention.

It seemed like Tommy wasn't exactly on board with his idea, judging by the way he plopped himself next to Wilbur and began poking his shoulder, repeating, "...Answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me..."

It took every fiber of Wilbur's being to not whack Tommy on the back of his empty little head.

"...Answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me..."

The words, "Shut it", weighed heavily on Wilbur's tongue, and it took a massive effort to not let it slip from his lips. He had told himself that he would not talk to Tommy, and he was going to keep that promise.

"...Answer me, answer me, answer me, not gonna stop until you answer me, answer me, answer me..."

Gradually, as Wilbur remained unresponsive, Tommy's poking became quicker and more aggressive until he missed his mark. Instead of poking Wilbur's shoulder, he ended up poking his ribs. The older started and swallowed a squeak of surprise. He hoped that Tommy hadn't noticed, but that hope quickly sank when he saw him grin widely.

"I saw that jump, don't try and hide," said Tommy, poking his ribs again. As impassively as he could, Wilbur reached out and grabbed Tommy's wrists tightly. He never spoke a word and kept his eyes on the front door. He was trying to ignore the kid, after all. He squeezed Tommy's wrists and let go, hoping that the boy had gotten the message.

Don't poke me, he silently said.

Unfortunately, Tommy was never good at listening. The moment his hands were free, he immediately returned to poking at Wilbur's ribs, this time with renewed energy.

"Ahaha-!"

Wilbur cracked.

He dropped the ignoring act and squirmed away from Tommy. In his desperation, he made the mistake of falling off the couch and onto the ground, allowing Tommy to sit on top of him and poke him more.

"G-Gehehet ahahaway!"

"I knew it! I knew you were just ignoring me!"

"Tohohommy, gehehet ohoff!"

"Nah. I'm having a lot of fun."

"T-Tohohommy, Ihi'm seheherious!" Wilbur tried to flip over to throw Tommy off him, but he quickly abandoned the attempt when Tommy dug between his shoulder blades. "Juhuhust gehehet ohohoff! Plehehease!"

Although Wilbur's thin shirt was doing nothing to protect him from Tommy's poking, the blonde still decided to take it up a notch. He slipped a hand underneath the shirt and rapidly squeezed his ribcage. Wilbur just about shrieked, frantically and jerkily pushing at Tommy's chest. His arms flailed around; Wilbur was stuck between trying to push Tommy off him or covering up his red face to preserve what little dignity he could save. The younger grinned widely, easily grabbing Wilbur's hands and pinning them down high above his head.

"TOHOHOMMY, WAHAHAIT! I-IHI CAHAHAN'T BREHEHEATHE!" Wilbur was bluffing and Tommy knew it.

"Calm down, you're breathing just fine."

"GEHEHET OHOHOFF!"

"Awww, is this a bad spot?" Tommy made an exaggerated sad face. "This is a bad spot for you, huh? Your ribs are ticklish? Is that what this is? Hm?"

Wilbur whined at the teasing, turning a deep shade of red.

"TOHOHOMMY!" he complained. The squeezing and pokes to his ribs made it difficult to think, so he couldn't get out much more. Given the opportunity, he might have been able to formulate a proper and cohesive argument and rationalization to persuade Tommy into halting his petty actions.

He wasn't given the opportunity.

The laughing on his behalf and the tickling on Tommy's seemed to weaken Wilbur because he was finding it incredibly hard to do anything but lie there and take it. Take the digging nails between his ribs, the occasional raspberry on his ribs, the random squeezes and pokes and prods and wiggles and skitters and rubs on the bones and gently scratching...

"TOHOHOMMY! PLEHEHEASE, YOUHU'RE GOHOHOING TO KIHILL ME!"

"Calm down," scoffed Tommy. "I'm not going to kill you."

Still, he relented and stopped his attack, letting Wilbur (finally) take a breather.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeheheah..."

"Cool."

"Cahahan youhu get ohohoff mehe?"

Tommy blinked. This was the first time in memory that Wilbur had asked for something — and politely too.

"Hm..." For a moment, Tommy considered it. Wilbur hadn't flipped him over and taken brutal revenge yet. He had asked nicely to be let up. It looked like he was sorry for ignoring Tommy. Well, then again, it only looked like he was sorry.

"Maybe if you apologize for ignoring," offered Tommy, "I'll let you up."

Wilbur glared at him. It was obvious he was trying to gain authority and control of the situation by activating his Big-Brother mode, but it was less effective when he was at Tommy's mercy.

"Fuhuhuck youhu," Wilbur snapped. "Let me up."

Tommy just shrugged. "Your funeral," he said, scribbling his fingers over Wilbur's ribs. The brunet screeched in laughter and immediately gave in.

"OHOHOKAY! OHOKAY IHI'M SOHOHORRY! SOHOHOHORRY!"

Huh. Well, that had worked out better than expected. Tommy made a mental note about Wilbur's ribs. What? It was valuable potential blackmail for later!

"Very sorry?"

"YEHES! V-VEHEHERY SOHOHORRY!"

"And you promise that you'll never ignore me ever again?"

"YOUHU SUHUHUCK!" Wilbur whined through his laughter.

"I don't hear you saying it~"

"NOHOT SAHAHAYING SHIHIT!"

"Don't think you have a choice here, Wil," Tommy murmured. Once more, he switched tactics, going from dancing his fingers around to digging in between each of Wilbur's ribs. Every once in a while, he'd blow a raspberry and smugly grin when he heard Wil shriek. "I think you better say it."

"IHIHI PROHOHOMISE IHI'LL-" Wilbur broke off with a high-pitched squeal as Tommy blew a raspberry on a particularly ticklish rib. "AHAHA-! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"Go on," coaxed Tommy. "Say "I'll never ignore you again, Tommy", and I'll let you up."

"DA-DAHAHAMN YOUHU!

"Say it!"

"IHIH'LL NEHEVER IGNORE YOUHU AHAHAGAIN, TO-TOHOHOMMY!" Wilbur managed to babble out.

Finally, finally, Tommy stopped. This time, with no intention of starting up again. "Really?"

"Yehes," Wilbur breathily replied. His chest rose and fell as he greedily sucked in some much-needed air. "I forgive you, okay? I'll stop ignoring. I don't think you're an idiot. I don't care about my sweater." At first, Tommy thought he was just saying it so Tommy wouldn't tickle him again. But that thought quickly left when Wilbur reluctantly grumbled out, "I love you. And I'm sorry."

"Awww! Thank you!"

"Now get the fuck off of me."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

"Y'know, Tommy had a lot of fun telling me about his own tickling story with you," Philza helpfully informed, shifting slightly to better access Wilbur's underarms. He noticed that kneading circles made Wil's laughter go high-pitched, so he made sure to knead as many circles as he could. "But honestly, I think I'm having more fun than he did."

"AHAHAHA! PH-PHIHIHIL! PHIHIL IHIHI CAHAHAN'T! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHI- EEP!"

Phil grinned at Wilbur's reaction. He blew another raspberry on his neck and got the same response: a short, high-pitched shriek.

"You what? What is it, Wilbur?"

Wilbur simply shook his head, laughing too hard to be able to form coherent words. Had he not been sitting in Phil's lap, his arms held up with one hand and his underarms being tortured by a hand and a wing while another wing was running over his ribs, he might have been able to form a proper word. Phil noticed this and decided to give the musician a small break.

"...h-hehehe," Wilbur softly giggled. The tickling had stopped, but he still jerked and flinched and laughed like there were still fingers and feathers on him. "M-Mehehahaha..."

"What?"

"...mehahaha..."

"A-Are you okay?" asked Philza, starting to get worried. He hadn't taken it too far, had he?

Finally, after his breathing calms down and enough air gets into Wilbur's lungs, he whispered, "...m-mehehercy..."

"What's that?"

"H-Hahahave mehercy, Phihil." Wilbur shook his head once more, his giggles beginning to start up again. He tugged at his wrists, which were still held high above his head, and rocked side to side, almost like he was trying to evade poking fingers. The only thing was that Phil wasn't doing anything. "Cahahan't tahake ihit..."

"I'm giving you a break right now," soothed Phil. "I'm not an asshole."

"Yehes you ahahare," Wilbur cheekily said.

"Hey," said Phil. He ran his nails over Wilbur's ribs, earning a loud shriek. "I would be careful if I were you," he warned. "Don't forget, I know two of your spots now, and I fully plan on abusing my knowledge."

Wilbur squirmed in the avian's lap, his light-hearted threat forcing a whine out of him. His cheeks only got redder when he finally processed something that Phil had said earlier.

"Did he really?" he meekly asked.

"Did who really what?"

"Did Tommy really tell you about tickling me?"

Philza barked out a laugh. "You think Tommy's the type of guy to offer help in unloading the groceries?"

Wilbur flushed, his cheeks now a deep crimson. "Guess not," he grumbled. He had thought it was weird that Tommy was suddenly so eager to do a task that nobody liked doing — unloading the groceries — but he had just assumed that Tommy felt awkward around Wilbur after tickling him. He hadn't thought that... Wilbur kicked his legs as best he could and whined loudly.

"I can't believe you just stood there and willingly listened to Tommy talk about how he... how he tortured me to earn my forgiveness," he huffed.

"Torture," Phil snorted. "He didn't torture you. You make it sound like he had a knife and was drawing blood. According to him, all he did was tickle your ribs."

"W-Well, my ribs are very ticklish!"

"I noticed," Phil remarked. He dragged a single finger up Wil's ribs and smirked when Wilbur burst into sweet lil' giggles. Feeling a little evil, he added, "You know, he also told me get flustered easily~"

This, of course, flustered Wilbur. He buried his head in the crook of his arm, trying — and failing miserably — to suppress a goofy smile.

Phil took it as an invitation to continue.

"He also told me your laugh was adorable."

"Did he really-

"He told me you get all giggly when someone lightly rubs your ribs."

"Wh-What-"

"And that you get really red when someone tickle you."

"I don't-"

"You do, actually," Phil noted, eyeing the brunet's red face.

"Look," he said, booping Wilbur on the nose, "even your nose is red."

"I-"

"You look good though," Phil reassured. "Cute and a little messy, but good."

"St-Stop cutting me off!" spluttered Wilbur. The fact that Phil hadn't let him go yet probably meant that he planned on tickling him more, and Phil's constant interrupting wasn't helping Wilbur ease his nerves.

Phil's eyes widened at his outburst. "Well, there's no need to shout at your old man," he murmured. "I was just curious, that's all."

"S-Sorry..."

Phil hummed again, and the two fell into a comfortable silence — although Wilbur's nerves still didn't ease. Just as he was about to be asked if he could be let go, Phil said, "Aight, break's over. Let's start."

"Wait, what're you- AH! PHIHIHIL! NOHOHOT AHAHAGAIN!"

Phil cooed softly, drilling his wings into Wilbur's underarms while silently counting his ribs with his free hand. "I think Tommy was right; your laugh is adorable."

"FUHUHUHUCK YOUHUHU!"

Phil frowned at the vulgar language. He tugged Wilbur's arms to the side a little and began blowing raspberries on his ribs. Just as Tommy had told him, Wilbur immediately shrieked.

"AHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT! SOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEHEASE, IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!"

Phil noticed that vibrating his fingers deep into Wil's underarms made him laugh louder than when he blew raspberries on his ribs. "Hey, I think your armpits might be more ticklish than your ribs!"

"PHIHIHIL!" Wilbur whined. "YOUHUHU'RE SOHO MEHEHEHEAN!"

"Me? Mean?" Phil gasped in mock offense. He ran the tip of his wing over Wil's left underarm while drilling circles into his right. The harsh contrast between the two sides was driving Wilbur insane! "I'm hurt, Wilbur. I'm genuinely hurt."

"IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY NOHOW STOP TIHIHIHICKLING MEHE!"

"Lemme sleep on it."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

"No, that wouldn't work either," Wilbur dismissed. He leaned back in his chair (or some stairs, depending on how you wanna look at it) and gazed out the window, a half-amused smile tugging on his lips as he watched Tommy and Tubbo assemble and reassemble a large pyramid puzzle. To Technoblade, he said, "Think of something better."

"I'm trying!" Techno frustratedly snapped. "You've been rejecting every idea I've come up with! Plus, you haven't come up with a single idea yet!"

"Yeah, because good ideas take a long time to think of!"

Techno rolled his eyes. "Yeah? Good ideas take a long time to think of? Seriously? That's your excuse?"

"It's not an excuse! I'm trying to focus, but you're distracting me!"

"I'm helping."

From downstairs, Phil tiredly sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Wilbur and Techno were arguing. Again.

"What else is new," he muttered under his breath before sipping his coffee.

Sometimes, the avian questioned his decision to introduce his adopted family to Technoblade. At times, it was good to have his friend around; he was always happy to have a helping hand in organizing the family. Techno was a good big brother.

There were, however, some problems. Even though Technoblade was over a thousand years old, Nether piglins tended to live for millions of years. By piglin standards, Techno was barely a toddler. His youth — and therefore inexperience — caused some (read: a lot) of chaos and unnecessary bickering around the house.

For example, it was Tommy's birthday, and Techno and Wilbur had been assigned to give him a gift. Phil had initially thought it would be a nice team/brother bonding moment, but it just ended up being another excuse for the two to argue.

"What if we made him a giant cobblestone tower?" suggested Techno. "I have enough. We could build it all the way to the height limit. It'd probably make Tommy happy; he likes cobblestone towers of powers."

"No."

The piglin blinked at Wilbur's bluntness. He waited for an explanation. When none came, he prompted, "...Because...?"

"I just don't like the idea," Wilbur replied.

Techno threw his hands up in wordless fury. "You are impossible to work with," he stated. "Absolutely impossible."

"Think of some good ideas and maybe I'll be easier to work with."

Finally, Technoblade snapped. Wilbur had been rejecting every single one of his ideas with no satisfying explanation. It was honestly starting to get to him.

Making sure Wilbur was still distracted by something outside the window, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a book and quill. Flipping to page thirteen, he slowly trailed a finger down the paper, quickly reading all the bullets.

- A video where he's singing incredibly off-key - His secret drawer of photos of Sally - The one page in his diary where he talks about how amazing Tommy is - A video of him strumming an air-guitar like he's at a rock concert - That one time he accidentally encased himself in obsidian and I had to get him out - That time he started talking about how incredibly Tommy was before realizing I wasn't Philza

None of these help, Technoblade thought, slightly crestfallen. Usually, his book had all the blackmailing information necessary for any situation. But none of the bullets were helpful in this certain scenario. Eventually, he reached the final bullet on page thirteen, the page specifically dedicated to potential blackmail on Wilbur Soot.

- Ticklish ribs The words, "+underarms", had been hastily scrawled underneath.

Huh. Technoblade glanced up at Wilbur, who remained oblivious to his growing evil scheme.

"Alrighty then," the piglin sighed, standing up. "Villain arc time."

"Oh yeah?" Wilbur absent-mindedly murmured. "What're you gonna- AH!"

He yelped, caught off-guard, as Techno just about pounced on him and hauled him off his chair. He crashed into the piglin, sending them tumbling to the ground, each fighting for dominance. Though Techno was quite well-known for his strength and cunningness, Wilbur found it incredibly easy to wriggle his way out from his grasp.

Just as Wilbur had thought he had managed to get away, Techno "accidentally" hiked his shirt up and began squeezing at his ribcage. Wil immediately crumbled to the ground, feebly beating Techno's chest with a clenched fist.

"Ack! T-Tehehechno! Youhu cheheheater!"

"I win!" he triumphantly cried, flipping Wilbur onto back and settling down on his legs. Anytime Wil tried to resist, Techno would simply rub his top rib bones and watch (smugly) as Wilbur fell back down, giggling up a storm.

"Youhuhu cheheated!" Wilbur protested. "Thahat's not fahahair!"

"Hush," shushed Techno. Wilbur did not "hush". In fact, when Technoblade delved his fingers into his underarms, his laughter only grew louder. In mock exasperation, Techno snapped, "Pay attention, Wilbur, I'm showing you my really good idea."

"Thihihis ihis youhur idehea?!"

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Ihihit's ahabsolute shit!"

Techno's eyes widened.

"You take that back!" he demanded, not caring how childish he was being. It seemed like laughter truly was contagious, for Wilbur's loud cackling brought out a few chuckles from himself. Techno was glad that Phil had suggested for Tommy and Tubbo to go outside, because it would be very hard to explain why he, Technoblade, a deadly piglin who earned his title "Blood God", was currently sitting on top of a human and tickling him senseless, all the while wearing a large, goofy smirk.

"My ideas are great and you know it. Just admit it already."

"Fuhuhuck ohoff! Ihihi-" Whatever Wilbur was going to say was cut off by his own raucous laughter when Techno pushed his sweater up and blew a raspberry on his ribs (a trick he learned from Phil, who learned it from Tommy). "FUHUHUCK! WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT, TEHEHECHNO PLEASE! STOHOHOP!"

Technoblade did not stop. As a matter of fact, Wilbur's pleas only seemed to spur him on. Through slightly teary eyes, Wil weakly batted at Techno's shoulder as the pinkette blew raspberry after raspberry on his ribs. The hits didn't do much — Techno barely noticed — but it did throw him off a little when Wilbur missed his shoulder and whacked him in the face. Luckily, no one was hurt, but it made Techno flinch, and instead of blowing a raspberry on Wil's ribs, he blew one on his navel.

To which Wilbur screeched.

"NOHOHO! NONONONO! NO! PLEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE! ANYWHERE BUHUT THEHERE!"

Technoblade grinned. He gave Wil's underarms a little break and moved to attack his tummy instead, skittering his fingers around the soft skin, occasionally dipping into his navel to lightly scratch around.

"Oh? Is this a new spot?" asked Techno. "Is your tum-tum ticklish? Is it? Is it so tick-tick-ticklish? Hm?"

"STOHOHOHOP!" Wilbur tried to demand. His squeaky cackles weren't really helping him make a point. He pursed his lips together and attempted to put on a mean, stony face. Techno dipped a thumb into his lil' button and vibrated it around, and his facade immediately crumbled. He squirmed underneath him, frantically trying to get free. "PLEHEHEASE! CAHAHAN'T TAHAKE IHIT!"

The piglin caught the strain in Wilbur's laughter and sympathized with him. He hadn't been tickled before, but Wilbur always tried to keep a strong, impassive reputation, and Technoblade doesn't know what he would do if somebody tickles him and reduced him to a red puddle of giggles.

"Alright, alright," he murmured, decided that Wilbur had had enough. "Just wanted to have my revenge for a little while. It gets annoying when someone keeps rejecting my brilliant ideas, y'know."

He slid off of Wilbur and walked back to his chair, where he had originally been sitting before he had gotten the random idea to tickle Wil. Before he could see what Techno was doing, the piglin quickly jotted down "+belly and navel" on page thirteen of his blackmailing book. He said nothing else — no apologies, no consolation, no explanation. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. Goose eggs.

The moment Wilbur got enough air into his lungs and strength in his limbs, he staggered back onto his feet, face bright red and hair a mess. He ran a hand through his ruffled brown curls — like that would help — and sank into his chair, breathless.

"Ihi still thihink your ideas a-are shihit," he mumbled. He hugged himself around the stomach, ghost tickles still dancing on his sensitive skin. Technoblade glared at him. He had forgotten how annoying Wilbur was while he had been tickling him. He grabbed the first thing he could find — a marker — and pointed it at the brunet.

"I'll tickle you again if you're not careful," he threatened.

"I can take it," Wilbur arrogantly responded, eyeing the marker warily. His bluff was called, however, when Technoblade stood up and he squeaked. "AH! Sorry! Didn't mean it! I-I was just joking!"

Techno grinned. "You wanna admit that my ideas are good now?"

"No."

For a split second, Wilbur's stubbornness irritated the piglin. But then, after studying the marker in his hand, Techno's grin only widened, another equally wonderful idea popping into his head.

"Alright, I've got an idea I bet Tommy'll love," he said.

"And I bet it's shit."

Technoblade didn't say anything, simply grabbing Wilbur's wrists and raising them high above his head, which scared him.

"What're you doing?" he squeaked, voice high-pitched in terror. "D-Don't tickle me again! Please! I'm sorry!"

"Calm down," Techno soothed. "I'm not going to tickle you."

Wilbur relaxed a little. That is until Technoblade began pushing his sweater up, to which he shrieked, "What're you doing?!"

"I'm going to use this marker," was the pinkette's simple response.

"T-To do wha- EEP! Tehehechno! Nohohot ahagain!" whined Wil. "Plehease! Ihihi'm seherious, I cahahan't tahake it!"

"What? Seriously? You can't take a marker? Not even a marker?" teased Technoblade, more surprised than anything else.

"Ihihi'm tihihicklish!" the brunet defensively giggled.

"Well, that's good, because I won't tickle you all that much. Just stay still. I need to write something on your stomach. It'll be easier if you don't struggle."

"Ihihit tihihickles!"

"I know, but just stay still."

Wilbur tried — he really did! — but it was incredibly difficult to not laugh while Technoblade was writing something on his stomach with a black Sharpie. The soft tip of the marker was surprisingly good at tickling him, especially when it came close to the rim of his navel.

"Whahat ahahare yohuu even dohohoing?" giggled Wilbur. He couldn't exactly read whatever Techno was writing. It's hard to read upside down.

"I'm writing "TICKLE HERE" all over your stomach. And don't look at me like that," Technoblade added when the other gaped at him. "I know you're ticklish on your stomach, but I'm willing to bet Tommy doesn't~"

"Youhu wouhuhuldn't!"

"I would, actually," Techno replied. "Plus, I bet Tommy would love it. Admit it, Wilbur, it's a good idea."

Although Wilbur would continue to insist that Techno's ideas were shit, Tommy actually found Techno's birthday gift for him incredibly entertaining and enjoyed it immensely.

("Come on Wilbur, it's very rude to not sing me happy birthday~" "Ihihi'm tryhyhyhying!" "Try harder! Try to stop laughing. It might help." "Youhuhu suhuck!" "I wouldn't say that if I were in your position~" "ACK! WAHAHAIT! IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!" "Don't forget to try his navel too." "FUHUHUCK YOU BOHOTH!")

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

I don't know why this prompt took me so long to do but I'm so fucking sorry Jesus Christ ᜊࡇᜊ

Also I'd just like to mention brag that the word count is 3,909 words.

-🌟

[twisted-crumpets]

The soft Vil and kissing headcanons I'm- 😭😭😭😭😭 Could I have headcanons for NRC having a ball and MC just walks up to Riddle, Azul, Vil, Idia and Malleus (seperately ofc) being like "I've decided that you're gonna be my date for the ball 😊". I know I picked like, the 5 worst characters for this, imagine the audacity and guts you gotta have to pull that on Vil and Malleus 😂

Pff MC strolling up with guts of steel

I- Imagine like slamming down a corsage or smth and being like “you, me dance a lil, get to know each other, maybe smooch idk” to Vil 😂😂

Also, thank you very much for liking my Vil headcanons, it made me smile.

━━ Riddle Rosehearts ━━

To say that Riddle wasn’t stressed out of his mind would be a complete and utter lie.

After spending a good chunk of his time dedicated to scolding Ace and chasing Floyd the poor crimson leader was staring at his watch, panicking as the seconds tick by.

Hearing soft footsteps, he whipped his head ready to berate whoever was dawdling in the dorms and not laying out the table for the upcoming unbirthday party, but froze upon the sight of his darling.

“Oh! Love, I’m sorry you have caught me at a bit of a bad time. What is the reason for your visit?”

He was not at all prepared for his darling to demand his presence at the school ball and couldn’t help but splutter as his face slowly began to turn into a shade that could rival his hair.

“I- you... do you have any sense of decorum or poise?”

Ignoring the blush smeared across his cheeks, Riddle began to criticise the “invitation” and how it did not comply with the rules of the queen of hearts.

However, he soon quietened down when his love teasingly asked if that meant he was rejecting them, reducing the strict dorm leader into a flustered mess.

“That most certainly was not a no!... I just, I believed that we were automatically going to arrive together... I didn’t expect to be asked so abruptly.... I... let me try this again.”

Clearing his throat, Riddle knelt onto the ground, surprising the dorm members who were slowly filing into the room, sweetly holding onto his dearest’s hand.

“Darling, it would be the upmost honour of the highest degree to accompany you to the ball.”

Laying a kiss onto the back of their hand, he couldn’t hide the smirk beginning to grow onto his face as he amusedly watched their face grow as brightly as his own.

━━ Azul Ashengrotto ━━

Due to the rise in contracts during the exam season, Azul’s paperwork began to increase as well and the poor octopus could already feel every part of his back creak in protest everytime he leant down.

Opening the heavy door to his study, his darling was not surprised that he barely even looked their way before pressing his nose against his documents, scanning their contents tiredly.

Attempting to gain his focus, his darling decided to demand that he join them at the ball.

His response was lacklustre at best, not even taking his eyes off his his work to reply.

“Hm? Ah yes, of course my treasure.”

Suddenly, his quill paused in its journey across his contracts and he froze, dropping it against the pristine desk.

At first, his response was “hmmm? Ah yes of course, my treasure.”

That was until, the demand finally processed in his mind, then he just stood wide eyed and froze, dropping his quill.

He gasped at his darling, his azure eyes getting increasingly smaller in shock.

After a few minutes, his darling was finally able to call his name through their giggles, and he snapped back to life.

“Oh my angelfish~ what a tempting command. But, I can only make wishes come true if they are a request.”

Smiling coyly, he observed his darling floundering for the proper words to ask him.

Crooking a gloved finger, he beckoned them closer, mischief practically glowing in his eyes, and gently pulled them into a slow kiss.

“That is a deal I could simply not turn down. Alright, I will gladly join you, my pearl.”

━━ Vil Shoenheit ━━

As a deep lover of all things intricate and organised, this was nothing short of messy.

Fabrics ranging in colour, texture and pattern covered every inch of his room, and Vil was extremely critical of which would be worthy to be used to decorate the dorm room.

He revelled the peaceful silence that lingered in the room, which demanded complete and utter focus, until his darling came barrelling into the room.

“Ah! Fairest no! You could’ve sullied the fabrics... whatever possessed you to come stumbling in like an elephant better be of high importance.”

Returning to his work, he did not expect shaky warm hands to cup his face, and he slowly moved his gaze to their face, observing the rosey flush due to their exercise prior.

In a shocked trance, Vil watched as his darling bolted from the room, after loudly proclaiming that he was coming with her to the ball.

Snapping his manicured fingers, his poor love was dragged like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of his loyal huntsman, who overheard the events that unfolded with a wide grin.

“My dear, whilst your confession was executed rather... uniquely, I believe I must be the one to give an answer on whether or not I shall attend with you.”

With a cat-like smile, he basked in the nervous gaze of his darling which bounced around the room, whilst he pretended to find his nails exceedingly interesting, before finally accepting with sophisticated air.

Striding up to his darling briskly to tenderly cradle their face, peppering sweet kisses and giggling at the look of bewilderment and shock that graced their face.

━━ Idia Shroud ━━

Finding Idia furiously slamming his fingers into his keyboard, fully enamoured with the happenings on his computer, was not new.

Observing his hunched and focused figure, his darling decided that it was due time for him to take a break and attempted to tear his eyes away from the harsh glare of the screen.

“Oh pixel, I promise I will stop right after this round don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even press a single key when he heard his lover announce that he would be attended the ball alongside them.

Turning a blind eye to the blatant ‘game over’ on his monitor, Idia’s hair began to burn a vibrant assortment of deep reds and he muttered incomprehensible half sentences, his current state akin to a phone after being dropped into a pool.

“You... me... public... together... d..dancing..”

Like a mouse, he burrowed his way inside the cozy depths of his hoodie, squeaking out his agreement, before flinging his arms around their middle and smooshing his face into their stomach in an attempt to distract them from his vermillion hair and face.

“.. I would love that very much thank you.”

 ━━ Malleus Draconia ━━

For Malleus, midnight strolls are the highlight of his day.

From exploring the picturesque ruins of castles he might’ve known once upon a time, to marvelling at the loyal gargoyles that remain standing guard at the entrance, that frequently remind him of the two guards of his back at his dorm.

Although, he couldn’t deny that, the main reason for his enjoyment in his nightly activities was when doing so with his truest love.

On this day, instead of the usual lighthearted air between them, a nervous yet determined one replaced it, filling the horned boy with curiousity, which grew as he gazed deeply into the eyes of his love, who appeared to be summoning every ounce of courage to look back into his.

“Truest, what is ailing you?”

Nothing could quite prepare him for the explosive torrent of words that spilled from their lips that took his brain a whole series of seconds to decipher.

When it finally clicked that he had received that invitation, no one could’ve possibly smiled brighter or laughed merrier than he, as he whisked his beloved into his arms, pressing his lips against theirs passionately.

Pulling away, his chest rumbling with laughter, he cheekily beamed at the dumbfounded expression that graced his love’s features.

“My my, inviting me so suddenly, and with such a demanding tone too. Why this is an interesting declaration, and I would be a fool to not accept. Very well my truest, I accept. You best do well to not be late, I am looking forward to this.”

I’m so sorry this took so long, school said no❤️

I hope you enjoyed your meal!

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

I finally finished it!! It only took a million years but it is done so pls enjoy it cause I worked really hard on it :,)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!myungjun, gn!dom!reader, anal (could be pegging but it's gender neutral so it can be whatever you want), degradation, choking (it only happens once for a split second), spanking, dacryphilia, blindfold, bondage, edging, bulging, master kink, use of a vibrator

Looks Are Deceiving

You truly did love your boyfriend with all your heart, and on any other day you would say he was a sweet angel that could do no wrong. Today, however, was not one of those days. You thought it would be fun to take Myungjun with you to a nice restaurant that had recently opened a little ways away but when he started to give you those eyes from across the table, you knew this night would go a little differently than planned.

     "But master~ You look so good tonight, how am I supposed to not think of you like that?" Your boyfriend said with a pout. He even tried to change your mind with a flash of his infamous puppy dog eyes you could never seem to say no to. While you wanted nothing more than to jump on him and give him everything he wanted, you also didn't want to be banned from the fancy restaurant you were currently sitting in. You let out a small sigh of irritation after swallowing the fork full of food you had shoved into your mouth.

     "Baby, I would love to take care of you right now but it isn't the right setting! So finish up eating and we'll get home, but if I hear you ask for it or complain one more time I won't touch you at all." Time seemed to freeze for Myungjun as soon as the words had left your mouth. He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping open slightly as he stared at you. Not touch him? Not touch him at all? You had to be joking. But as he kept watching you peacefully eat your meal he realized you were being dead serious. Your boyfriend let out an agitated huff as he picked at his food, only eating it with a roll of his eyes when you would send a glare his way.

     To be honest you had never really realized how often you would give into Myungjun until now. You hadn't really ever had a reason to tell him no, and how could you when he would ask with those big puppy dog eyes staring up at you? How could you have possibly known that would make him such a spoiled little brat? Never in a million years would you have thought that you would need to punish him for something since he had never seemed to break any of the rules you had set. Once you got in the car to drive home, however, you realized that he was a lot brattier than you had ever known.

     Almost as soon as you had gotten in the car he was begging for your touch again, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers as he told you all the things he wanted you to do to him. After he still wasn't able to get a reaction out of you, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

     "Fine then! If you're not gonna touch me I'll just do it myself!" You weren't able to fully comprehend his words before hearing the zipper of his pants as he whipped his pretty little dick out, giving an over dramatic moan as the cold air hit his heated skin. As fate would have it the light ahead of you was red, giving you the opportunity to turn to your boyfriend and rip his hand away from himself. Before another complaint could leave his mouth you gripped his chin with your other hand, digging your nails in his cheeks and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

     "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He gulped at the anger in your eyes. "You think just because you're cute I'll give you whatever you want? Huh? You think that this-" you growled while shaking his hand that had previously been on his cock, "is the proper way to get my attention?!" 

     "I- I'm sorry mas-"

     "No! You wanted my attention, didn't you? Well now, you're gonna get it! But trust me sweetheart, this is not going to go how you think it will. Now fix yourself, I don't wanna see that thing until we get home, got it?" 

     "Y-yes master." He stuttered, squeezing his thighs together in the hopes you wouldn't notice how his dick twitched when you raised your voice.

—

     Myungjun's breath hitched in his throat when he heard the front door slam closed as you entered the house. He had been eagerly awaiting this moment, his mind creating many fantasies for him to feed into his desire the rest of the car ride home. You had given him the simple command of "Bedroom, now." and he did not need to be told twice. He was obediently sitting on the mattress once you got there, fully nude with white knuckles from how hard he was gripping his thighs. 

     "Alright sweetheart," you said, calmly walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, "we're gonna start off a little easy for you." He tilted his head as you pat your thighs, looking over at him expectantly. It finally clicked and he let out an over dramatic whine.

     "But master-" The harsh glare you sent his way was enough to shut him up, making him gulp before slowly draping himself over your thighs. You gave a small smile at the action, though it didn't reach your eyes.

     "Good boy! Now I want you to count loud and clear for every spank, alright?" He hastily nodded his head, his fingers digging into the fabric of the rug beneath him and bracing for impact. You tutted at him with disappointment, making him quickly mutter a quiet 'Yes master' to give you verbal confirmation that he understood. 

     The few quiet seconds that passed after that were almost unbearable. All Myungjun's senses were on edge, waiting for the moment he would feel the pleasant burn on his skin from where you'd hit him. When you finally landed the first blow of many, your boyfriend's jaw dropped open with a small gasp. It took him a few seconds but he finally stuttered out "O-one!" You made sure the second blow was even harder than the first, making his body lurch forward from the impact. "Two!"

     It continued like this for the next 12 spanks. You alternated between cheeks, sometimes even giving a harsh slap right where his thighs met his ass. He was panting and shaking on your legs and you were sure if you had looked there would be unshed tears glistening in his eyes. A part of you was worried you were being a little too rough with him but after landing the final hit you could feel a small spurt of pre-cum staining the dress pants you had worn. 

     "F-fifteen!" The number sounded pitiful as it fell from his lips, high-pitched and breathy as he started squirming around to subtly grind his cock into the side of your thigh. That dream was short lived, however, as you grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him up to sit next to you on the mattress. Your glare had him shivering as he struggled to keep eye contact with you. If you had noticed his pathetic attempt to get off, you didn't say anything. You simply pushed him back a little bit by his hair as you stood from the bed.

     "Back against the headboard." Myungjun didn't dare question your authority, immediately pushing back on his feet until he could feel the cool surface of the headboard against his back. While he was doing that, you walked over to the closet, digging around for a little bit before returning with your box of toys. You let him watch you with curious eyes as you pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a black, satin ribbon. Pushing him slightly down by his shoulders so his back was somewhat rested against the pillows, you clicked the cuffs in place around his wrist and secured them to the headboard. He tugged at them for a bit to test the sturdiness before you grabbed his jaw and made him face you so you could tie the ribbon carefully around his eyes. He whined at that one, pouting his lips as his vision went black.

     "Noooo! Master please, I wanna see your beautiful body as you destroy me!" He gasped as you harshly smacked his thigh.

     "You can do that after you've learned how to be a good boy. Only good boys get rewarded baby, you know this." His pout only deepened as he muttered about how unfair all this was. At the sound of you rustling through what he assumed to your toys his mouth snapped shut. There were a few moments of silence until he suddenly felt a cool object being tied against the head of his red and leaking cock. Once you seemed you had it secure, you grabbed the remote and twirled it between your fingers before letting the toy buzz to life. 

     Your boyfriend's body jolted as he felt the vibrator against the sensitive head of his dick, a waterfall of whimpers falling from his lips as he struggled to get used to the sudden pleasure. After a few minutes of you toying with the settings, his hips jutted up off the bed as he moaned helplessly. Sensing that he was close to his release, you suddenly turned off the toy. Myungjun whined in confusion as he thrusted his hips off the bed in search of friction.

     "No! Wha- master! I was so close!" He cried. You rolled your eyes as a sadistic smirk made its way to your lips.

     "Awwww, you didn't really think I'd let you cum so soon, did you? I told you baby," you said as you strutted to his side, letting your hands trace patterns around his chest before lightly resting around his throat, "only good boys get rewards." You gave a light squeeze as you finished your sentence, making him gasp and his head spin. He kept whining out complaints until you had decided he had waited long enough and started up the vibrator again. A disappointed whine left him again minutes later when you did the same exact thing again. You did it a couple more times until you could see the tears slipping past the blindfold as he begged for permission to cum.

     "Hmmmm, I don't know baby. Have you learned your lesson yet?" You hummed while teasingly running your nails up and down his chest.

     "Oh please master! I-I've been such a good- A-AH- good b-boy for you!  Please master, h-have mercy!" He whined, sobs tearing from his throat as his hips continuously bounced off the bed, desperate for a friction it wasn't going to get. You hummed, pretending to think about it before shutting off the toy again. He sobbed loudly, words indecipherable as he tried to beg for his release. You quickly untied the vibrator from his tip making him practically sob under your gaze. His cries catch in his throat as he feels the familiar head of your cock rub against his hole.

     "Now baby," you growled in his ear as you felt his hot breath coming out in short pants against your neck, "do you think you deserve to be stretched out before I fuck you open?" His lips trembled as you dug your nose into his skin, letting your lips softly follow it's trail.

     "N-no master…"

     "And why is that, huh?" He shivered as you grinded against him, letting him feel the lube you had coated it in while he was distracted by the vibrator.

     "B-because- because I decided t-to be an impatient l-little bitch and touch myself after you told me to wait until we got h-home." He whined, though you noticed how his dick twitched when he called himself a little bitch. 

     "Good boy! For giving your master such a good answer I'll take this off for you since I know you're just dying to watch me fuck you open, aren't you?" He vigorously nodded his head as he felt your tug lightly at the blindfold around his head.

     "Yes yes yes! W-wanna watch you destroy me, w-watch you punish me for being such a bad boy master!" You bit your lip with a growl, wasting no more time before ripping off the black satin cloth and thrusting the entirety of your length into him.

     Myungjun's back arched as his head snapped back into the pillows he was laying on. No noise escaped him as his jaw fell open, but after a few seconds a high pitched moan broke through the silence. His nails were digging into his palms as you started to move your hips, quickly picking up speed as the sound of slapping skin filled the room. Tears and drool were dripping down his face while his toes curled at the pleasure ripping through his body. He was trying his best to look up at you but every hit to his prostate (which you managed to find rather quickly) left his eyes rolling back in his skull so he could only watch the ceiling moving back and forth above him as every rough thrust made his body move with the impact. His task only proved harder after you lifted one of his legs over your shoulder, making you hit even deeper inside of him. 

     Finally, he managed to force his eyes to look at you. The sight of your gaze on him was enough to make him come undone, but he knew better than to do so without your permission. Your eyes were almost black with lust, a sadistic glint in them only proved to make the smirk you sported that much more intimidating. Your cheeks were slightly flushed from the energy you were exerting to make sure he would get to cum as soon as possible while a few loose hairs clung to your forehead from sweat. A shiver shot down his spine when he noticed your smirk growing wider as your gaze traveled lower, stopping at his lower stomach. The knot in his stomach felt like it was one second away from snapping as he looked down to notice the bulge of your cock against his lower stomach. All he could do was moan and cry as he blabbered about wanting to cum.

     "Oh master! P-ple- AH- please! Please please please please please! C-cum- I-I- oh god yes- wanna- I- oh please!!" You smirked down at his fucked out form, his eyes returning to rolling back in his head as his thighs shook around you. You hummed with a small smile while kissing up his thigh that was right by your head.

     "Go ahead baby, show your master how good they make you feel." The soft and caring tone of your voice strongly contrasted the filthy things you were doing to his body but it only proved to make him hornier as his entire body shuddered and he finally came. White ropes of his release covered his stomach, a little bit even ending up on his neck as you slowed the pace of your hips to ride him through it. You honestly considered making him go again but decided against it as you saw the tired expression that covered his face. 

     Slowly and carefully you set his leg down on the bed and pulled out of him, watching as he bit his lip with one last whimper. Releasing his wrists from the handcuffs you had put him in, you rubbed a cream over the red marks he had created from tugging at the material so they wouldn't bee too sore in the morning, making sure to rub it over his red bottom as well. You peppered kisses all over his face before muttering that you'd be right back and hurrying to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet washcloth to clean him up with. Once you had also gotten him a small snack and some water from your mini fridge you cleaned him off and laid down next to him, holding him close to your body and leaving light kisses over his skin.

     "How're you feeling baby? I know I went a little rougher than you're used to from me." You said with a chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his face. A lazy smile lit up his face as he snuggled closer to you.

     "Good. Sooo good." He mumbled against your neck, making you giggle and press a kiss to the top of his head. You felt his breathing start to level out against your neck as he began to drift to sleep. Staring at him like a lovesick fool, you kissed him one last time before following him to dreamland.

[ibelongtowrath]

Kitten - Satan x Reader

Warnings // 18+/NSFW, female reader, kitten play (cat ears, collar, tail), daddy kink, praise in the form of “good girl,” brat taming, spanking, vaginal sex Word Count: ~1.6k

Happy Day 9 of Obey MEmber, Satan Day! As we all know, I’m hot for Satan, so I had to write something for him for his dedicated day. Again, horny writing brain go brrr, that’s basically been the inspiration behind most of my stories lately. And again I suck at thinking of titles.

Late on the eve of a weekend night after a long, grueling week of exams, Satan reaches towards his nightstand to grab the silken emerald rope draped across the ancient wood. He places it onto the bed, still unsure of whether he’ll be using it tonight. A slight breeze sneaks in through the small crack in his window, the warm, Devildom night air caressing your face in a gentle tendril as the branches of the trees wave outside, almost knowingly, as if watching and waving in anticipation.

The demon runs his nails down the small of your back, a small shiver traveling up your spine with the motion. Grinning, he digs into your soft, delicate skin just a bit harder, leaving light scratches in their wake. He pulls you to him, pressing his chest against your back, leaning in to nip at the place where your neck and your shoulder meet, trailing a hand down your arm.

“Such a good girl you are for me, aren’t you, my sweet kitten?” Satan purrs into your ear, letting his warm breath ticklish.

You swallow, thighs pressed together. The collar adorning your neck bobs with the movement, complete with a silver bell. A soft jingle sounds as it moves, and Satan dips a finger just beneath the tight leather band, gently tugging you closer to him, until the space between your bodies is barely noticeable. Playfully, he reaches up to your hair, where your soft, fur-covered cat ears lay, matching perfectly with the color of your hair. He runs his fingers over them with another grin, admiring how natural they look on you, chuckling softly as you instinctively flick them cutely a few times at his touch.

“The spell worked perfectly,” Satan remarks. “I was able to give you only select feline qualities while keeping the rest of your body in its delectably human form. Don’t you love it, kitten?”

“I do,” you nod with a smile. This is fun.

“You do…?”

“I do… Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Kissing the top of your head, Satan strokes the ears one final time before stepping back, studying your backside.

“While I do enjoy these,” he continues, “I believe this is my favorite part.”

Satan runs a hand over the ample curve of your behind, where a fluffy cat tail lay, just above your tailbone.

“Yes, I believe I’ll have quite a bit of fun with this,” the demon says with a wolfish grin. “The spell is set to wear off in 24 hours, but I admit, the thought of keeping you this way forever is far too tempting to ignore, hm?”

“I do like the look,” you tell him, teasing him with your tail. 

He chuckles and begins massaging the base of it, savoring your soft moan as he caresses the new, albeit temporary, appendage. Pressing his free hand to the small of your back, he urges you to bend over the bed. You comply, resting your arms on the mattress and laying your head atop them.

“Open yourself to me, my sweet kitten,” he commands.

Nodding in agreement, your back arches. Gently, he pushes a knee between your thighs to part them with a deep, guttural growl, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

“Good girl.”

The sight of you spread before him ignites a primal urge within. Despite your feline features, Satan is the one that studies you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, eager to sink his teeth into your delectable flesh to satiate the hunger within. Your arousal coats your wet heat, practically dripping onto the wooden floors, shining in the low candlelit haze of his hastily-cleaned bedroom, books askew. Satan runs his fingers in a slow motion between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your core. Groaning at the feel of your abundant wet excitement, he leans over your pliant body, cock pressing against your back as he bites your shoulder, leaving a set of angry red marks behind that will surely bruise later.

“You’re so wet, kitten,” Satan growls, biting you once more. “You’re already coating my fingers. Does being my little plaything turn you on? Make you so excited to be my mindless little toy and purr for me as I wreck that pretty little pussy of yours that you can’t help but gush between your legs at the mere thought?”

His thumb circles your clit, savoring the sinfully sweet melody of your lewd moans. You bite your lip, pushing back against him, desperate to feel his cock drag between your walls, stretching your core to its limit. Chuckling darkly against the back of your neck, he hooks two fingers beneath your collar, pulling on it ever so slightly as you gasp.

“Ah, it seems as though my kitten is in heat, hm?” Satan remarks, smirking against your skin. “So hungry for my cock, ready to be filled and bred like a proper little cumslut.”

He slides two fingers into your heat, curling and pumping them skillfully. Pulling his hand from your collar, he moves it to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watches his fingers disappear into your wet, quivering pussy, practically throbbing with need.

“Now… I want you on the bed on all fours, arching your back so sweetly for me, just like this. Am I understood, kitten?” Satan asks, adding another small nibble for emphasis.

A wicked plan formulates at the forefront of your mind, and you can’t help but grin, knowing you may full well regret this very, very soon. You have not a care in the world at this moment, though, deciding to test the waters to see the Avatar of Wrath’s reaction to your open defiance. Raising your eyebrows at the demon behind you, your lips part to utter a single word.

“No.”

Satan pauses his ministrations, his brow furrowed in questioning.

“I don’t believe I stuttered, kitten,” he says slowly. His fingers move back to your collar, slipping underneath. “On the bed. Now.”

“Make me,” comes your reply, cool and confident, grinning wickedly.

Is it unwise to challenge the Avatar of Wrath? Probably. 

Is it fun? Most definitely.

A loud growl tears from Satan’s throat through clenched teeth, the sound quickly turning into an angered snarl as he tugs you forward by the collar as you let out a surprised yelp, forcing you into a standing position. He bites into your neck, harder this time, nearly breaking the skin before his hands move to your waist, picking you up and placing you onto his bed with force.

“My kitten appears to be very feisty tonight,” Satan snarls, reaching for the silken tie and unraveling it swiftly. “Perhaps she is in need of a firm reminder of exactly who is in charge here. Me.”

Grabbing your wrists roughly, the soft, cool fabric kisses your skin as the demon makes quick work of binding your arms together, laying them flat against your back. He grins at his handiwork before placing his hand onto your back and pushing down, effectively forcing it to arch high into the air, your cheek to the mattress. Your head turns to the side, studying his handsome face and the way he smirks, completely smug.

“Are you going to behave now, kitten, and be a good girl for Daddy?” Satan asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Hmm… maybe,” you retort, wondering what he will decide to do with you next.

Another growl escapes Satan as he, without warning, lifts an arm into the air; the next second, your jaw clenches, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as a hand smacks hard against the delicately soft skin of your ass cheek. He rubs the sore spot for a few moments before giving you another smack, relishing your cries as the residual cracking noise cuts through the otherwise still silence of his chambers.

“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, kitten,” he says, his voice now in a low timbre, almost sultrily, but laced with frustration and annoyance at your continued disobedience.

Deciding to tease you further, Satan moves behind you, positioning his cock between your legs. He suppresses the urge to fuck into you right then and there, your wetness coating his length, reigniting that primal desire to have his way with you and fill you with his seed. You want it, too, in the way that your hips instinctively move to push back against him, to coax him inside you, throbbing with need.

“Do you think I’m going to reward you for your bratty behavior, MC?” Satan chuckles, teasing his cock at your entrance. “Only good little girls get rewarded. Are you going to behave for me now, or do I need to fuck this attitude out of you?”

You whimper in response, then attempt to cover your mouth with a hand. Tugging at the restraints, you remember that you have no use of your arms, opting instead to shake your head. Satisfied with your reaction, he laughs once more, placing another firm smack on your ass.

“I suppose I will have to simply fuck you into submission,” Satan purrs. “It seems my pretty little kitten has forgotten who her pleasure belongs to. Who it is that makes her body bend to their will, whose name falls helplessly from her lips in screams of pleasure every time she cums.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping the skin tightly, leaving small bruises in the indentations of his fingers.

“Face in the sheets, kitten,” he instructs, voice laden with silk, “or my hips will do it for you.”

Sliding his cock into your tight, wet heat, Satan’s hips begin snapping into you mercilessly, barely gives you time to react. Your face presses into the mattress, stifling your loud, gasping, breathy moans of pleasure.

“Good girls get to feel good. Good girls get to cum,” he rasps. He groans at the sensation, the feel of you so familiarly delicious, head tipping back in pleasure for a few brief moments. Reaching for your tail, he yanks on it lightly before pressing his chest to your back to growl into your ear.

“Purr for me, my sexy little kitten, and show me that you can be a good girl.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration. Yandere Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part 2! 

Watching others has always been a hobby of yours.

There’s a lot to be learned from observing and watching how people behave and interact. Whether it be for your own simple amusement, or for the sake of gathering information. While some may find it creepy to keep such a keen eye out for others, you don’t look at it that way. Understanding human nature has an endless list of advantages, after all. 

It started as a small side project. When you’d stumble across information on the Phantom Troupe online that wasn’t at a ridiculous price, you found yourself looking more into them. Possible members, possible motivations, surface level stuff. The more you looked into the more you descended into a minor obsession. Questions plagued your mind about their goals, the theories you found too shallow for your taste. 

Through carefully studying their past hits, you came to the conclusion there were no patterns to be found. Nailing down the next possible heist felt like searching for a needle in a haystack, a part of you losing hope at the prospect of ever being in the same area as them. 

So you busied yourself in other ways. From digging through hours of forums and pricey information, you pieced together the most possible members. While they’re all unique in their own right, the apple of your eye has always been their mysterious leader. There have been no solid leads on his real name, much to your chagrin. 

But the leaked autopsies from what’s assumed to be his victims are fascinating. The cause of death was always different! For most nen users who kill, the method of death was typically similar with minor discrepancies. But for whoever this leader was, it almost felt like he had an unlimited amount of abilities. Was that even possible? 

The morality of his actions had never been a strong concern of yours. Wanting nothing more than an opportunity to learn more about him, you brainstormed all you could on how to gain any form of contact. That’s when you got the idea of posting information online yourself, but not about the Troupe. 

From guessing where they might strike next, you posted on hunter websites about information that they might find helpful. Important figures to expect at the events, bodyguard’s abilities that had been confirmed from previous employers. Whether or not the Troupe actually looked and used the information is a mystery, but the prospect of assisting them felt… thrilling. Like you were almost a part of them yourself. 

That leads you to where you are now. A mini road trip of sorts, your last exit approaching fast. 

The Troupe’s realm of possibilities stretched throughout the entire globe, but never close enough where you could investigate in person. But that all changed when rumors of some of the strongest hunters being hired popped up, for a museum exhibit that would be opening tonight. In your city, nonetheless! 

Securing an invitation to the event was a tedious matter, but the possible payoff was enough to keep you motivated. Though being in attendance for too long could be risky if they do actually strike, running surveillance throughout the area would be easier without having to sneak around bouncers. 

Checking your glove department, you find a blurry photo that serves as your hope. It had been posted on a hunter information website earlier today, a credible one at that. Even if obtaining it cost you a pretty jenny, you didn’t think much of it. In the image is what’s believed to be one of the members. A girl wearing a dark turtleneck with equally dark, short hair. 

Having driven around the back of the museum, you lean back into your chair. Stretching your aching muscles, you see why this area is such a hot spot. While the actual exhibit itself didn’t interest you much, it’s evident a lot of effort went into preparing this event. Limousines had lined the entrance, important individuals emerging in expensive outfits; waiting to be escorted inside. 

It’s quieter back here though, with no flashing cameras and chatty socialites. The silence gives you the opportunity to think through your plan once more.

‘I shouldn’t go in unless one of the bodyguards gets suspicious at my loitering. If I’m lucky, maybe, just maybe… I’ll see the Troupe tonight. And their mysterious leader.’ 

Rolling down your windows, you keep a sharp eye on your surroundings. Boredom never gets the opportunity to set in, your own rapidly beating heart never once slowing down. Having flung yourself into a possible lion’s den, the last thing you need to do is relax your concentration; it could be the death of you.

The exhibit opens at 8:00, and it’s currently 7:30. 

The exhaustion from the day starts to weigh on you against your will. All the preparation and anxiety leads to your eyelids feeling heavy, leading you to lightly slap your face. The last thing you need to do is loosen your concentration. That’s when you suddenly feel a strange sensation. 

Perking up almost immediately, your rapidly eyes dart around for the source of this ominous feeling. Only to find nothing out of the ordinary, your car is the only one in this parking lot. Checking your mirrors again, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be dark fabric. 

‘Am I just imagining things?’ 

As far as you see, you have a finite amount of options ahead of you. One, to ignore whatever it is you just saw. Two, to drive off as fast as you can. Three, activating your En to see if anyone is in your immediate area. Staying without doing anything doesn’t feel wise in the slightest, and driving away wouldn’t matter if it is indeed the Phantom Troupe. They’ll catch up to you before you can set any solid distance. 

That leaves using your En. 

It’s risky, but everything about this trip is. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you close your eyes. Activating your En, you feel nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe everything is getting to you after all? It is late, after all. There’s always the possibility that they’re out of your range, but if you were able to see it in your mirror they couldn’t have been that far away.

“So you are a nen user after all?” An unknown voice breaks any semblance of peace you have, scurrying your mind into action. 

Snapping your head to your left, your eyes widen at the sight of a stranger. Not bothering to take a second look, you immediately react by going to start your car. Before you get the opportunity, your car door is pried off by them with ease; their presence threatening. Hands twitching over your keys, you realize they’re faster than you are.

“There’s no need to be hasty,” A deep voice says next to you. “Move back, slowly. What happens to you all depends on your next actions.” 

All you can hear is a mantra of cursing within your own mind. Leaning back as you were told, you hesitantly look to see who your possible assailant is. Much to your surprise, it looks to be a young man around your own age. Wearing a long, leather coat with fur; raven black hair slicked back. 

‘Could this really be…?’

Given the tense situation, this individual doesn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. Is this the confidence a Troupe member normally exudes, if that’s who this is? You can’t help but feel a sense of admiration, that would undoubtedly be stronger if not for the dire circumstance. 

He helps himself to your glove department, rummaging through your insurance information. 

“Ah, your name is [First] then?” he inquires, finally breaking some of the tension in the air. 

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t humor him with a proper response. He studies your defensive position with analytical eyes, taking in as much information about you as you are about him. You get the feeling that in comparison to him, you’re more of an open book. 

“Do you want my wallet too?” you can’t help but inquire with sarcasm, almost immediately regretting it as his eyes widen. Why you can’t ever keep your mouth shut is beyond you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“This gives me all I need to know for the time being,” he states with minor indifference, waving your insurance paper with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.” 

Humming in response to his words, you can’t help but throw in another cheap quip. “Something tells me you’re not a police officer.” 

He laughs in good humor at your biting words. “Well, you’d be correct.” 

Before you’re given the opportunity to ask who this person is, he speaks as if he knew what you were intending to ask. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know who I am, [First]. Seeing as you’ve dedicated so much time into researching me.” With this, he places the paper back into the glove compartment with a click. Giving you his full attention, you feel like every aspect of you is being scrutinized. It takes all your will power to hold eye contact, his dark eyes unlike anything you’ve even seen before.

Mouth agape, you speak without thinking. “I take it my VPNs weren’t good enough then.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips at your comment. 

“At first they were. Shalnark had difficulty finding out your identity for a while, but everything can always be traced back to its source,” he leans closer to you, tilting his head. “You’ve been an enigma to me to say the least.” 

“I feel like I should be saying that, not you.” you mumble breathlessly, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. This is either the worst prank in existence, or you’re actually speaking face to face with a member of the Phantom Troupe. While them tracking you down was always an unfortunate possibility in the back of your mind, you never paid much attention to it. 

“You’re free to say what you like. I don’t have any intention of killing you… unless you try something stupid,” he explains to you, straightening his posture. “But you haven’t given me reason to believe you’d do that.” 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips, your attention turning from him to the fists in your lap. Everything in your body is screaming to run, to do something, but you know it’ll be for naught. While he said he wouldn’t kill you, it’s not nearly enough to comfort you. There are fates worse than death, after all. 

“Don’t you have a crown to steal or something? Why waste time with me if you’re not going to kill me?” 

He blinks at your question, before amusing you with an answer. “I’ll get to that later. I’m more interested in seeing what you’re going to do, if I’m being honest.” 

“What I’m going to do…?” you repeat his words back aloud, hoping it’ll help you process the information better.

Knitting your eyebrows together, your mind races to make sense of the implications in his words. This must be how jesters used to feel back in the day, you surmise. Is he expecting you to do something entertaining? Well, given as there’s a solid chance you’re going to be dead in five minutes, why not.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Since I’m likely dying soon, why not tell me your name? It’d be cool to know that much in the afterlife.” 

He considers your words, before responding. “Didn’t I say that as long as you don’t act foolishly I don’t intend on killing you?” 

“I figured talking this much to a Phantom Troupe member counted towards my ‘acting foolishly’ points.” 

“Maybe it does, yes. And to answer your previous question, but my name is Chrollo.” 

The name is one you’ve never heard before. Despite only having met Chrollo a few minutes prior to now, you feel that his foreign name suits him well. Practicing the pronunciation on your tongue in a low tone, you feel a sense of pride at having uncovered this newfound information. It’s more than anyone else has learned.

Chrollo looks down at his watch briefly, before returning his attention back to you. It’s uneasy being incapable of hiding your feelings as well as he does, but you still try your best. Straightening your posture, you try to think of what to say next. This situation is one you never expected to be in. If you had known this would’ve happened, you would’ve prepared some questions at least…

He’s toying with you, you know that much. But it doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent behind it. Rather, a genuine intrigue towards your motives. It could just be hopeful thinking, but you feel like Chrollo wants something from you. Though you’re unsure what. 

“Since I shared my name with you, I believe it’s only fair if I asked you a question of my own,” Chrollo insists, your heart racing for whatever comes next. “Why is it you spend so much time assisting the Spider?” 

You blink. It’s actually a question that you’ve seen before in responses to your posts. People wondering if you were just messing with others by spreading false information, or if you’re an undercover hunter trying to fool the Troupe or something. The question never really sat right with you, since you couldn’t give a good answer to it yourself.

But now that you have a captive audience, you need to think of a coherent response. Vocalizing feelings that you don’t even understand yourself, while under pressure, is certainly anxiety inducing.

Placing a finger to your chin, you articulate your response to the best of your abilities. “I don’t think I have a solid reason. I just found you guys interesting, in a way. No one really knows your motivations, for example. It just adds this mystery element.” 

Chrollo takes in your answer with a slight frown, seemingly not expecting such an unsure response. Since you have no reason to lie at this point, you assume he doesn’t think you’re being untruthful. He’ll undoubtedly call you out on it if he thought you were being dishonest.

“And what do you think our motivations are?” Chrollo continues to press, not settling until you give a satisfactory response.

‘He really isn’t letting me off the hook easily, is he?’

“Well, that’s always been a hot topic. Typically people guess that you do it to spite the rich, or to assert power. I even read one theory that you guys were under a curse and the only way to be free is to steal rare items for the person who cursed you! Weird stuff.” you let out a shaky ramble, scratching your neck with an airy laugh.

“Is that what you believe then?” 

“Not really,” comes your response with a dismissive wave. “I could be wrong, but… I’ve always thought that there isn’t a special motivation. That you do what you want, only for the sake of doing it. There doesn’t always need to be a solid reason for a person’s actions. Sometimes… people just do things.” 

Much to your surprise, Chrollo’s interest remains on you despite your long-winded rant. Why your opinion means anything in the slightest to him is still beyond you, but he seems to be taking in every word seriously.

“For the sake of doing it, huh…?” Chrollo repeats your words back to you, considering them himself. Whatever you said must've struck a chord, as he appears in deep thought by your side. A few moments of tense silence go by, causing you to frown. 

‘Hopefully I didn’t upset him. I didn’t think I said anything that bad, though.’

“You may be right,” Chrollo breaks the brief silence, causing you to jump. “You’re a very strange person, [First].” 

“S-strange? I don’t think you have room to talk,” you blurt out before you can think twice, Chrollo smiling in good nature at your curt response. “I guess you’re kinda right though. Any normal person wouldn’t have been in this situation. I think.” 

“Anyways… since we’re doing some question give and take here, I have some of my own. If that’s okay with you.” 

Amusement flickers in his eyes at your unabashed interest. “Do your worst.” 

“So, there’s always been rumors of one member that I’ve found to be the most intriguing. I’ve seen the most speculation that it’s the leader of the Troupe, but of course no one really knows for sure.” you begin to ponder aloud, Chrollo letting out a soft chuckle at the word leader. 

“Basically, the cause of death is almost always different! I’ve heard of people having a few different types of Hatsu, but never more than two or three. It’s almost like his nen is having unlimited nen abilities? I don’t know, it’s just really fascinating. That’s the only reason that could explain it.” 

“Anyways, you’re probably not too keen on sharing Troupe abilities with a stranger. But like… blink twice if I’m right. Throw me a bone here.” 

Throughout your entire explanation, you paid extra attention to picking up body language. Just anything to see if Chrollo would subconsciously give a hint or two towards your theory being correct. But his ability to control himself is unparalleled. He only looks highly entertained at everything you say. 

“You’re almost right,” Chrollo confirms, making your eyes widen in surprise. “I would know. I’m the boss of the Troupe, after all.” 

His last sentence repeats like a mantra in your mind, your jaw loosening as you realize the full impact of them. 

Not only are you speaking to a member of the Phantom Troupe, but you’re speaking to their leader? This definitely wasn’t what you were expecting when you woke up today. Had you have known you were speaking to the leader, you may have been more polite. 

‘Oh god I’m so fucked.’

“Okay, uh, Mr. Chrollo. Sir. I now just realized I’m definitely gonna be disposed of. So. I have a business proposition. I have a pet cat at home, and if I die, he’s gonna starve. If it’s not too much trouble, can you set him up with like a meal service or something? Here, let me get my venmo…” 

“I’m still not planning on killing you,” Chrollo refutes with a shake of his head at your insistence on the matter. “Though I suppose it’s understandable why you would be worried about that.” 

“So torture it is then?”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind.” 

“Oh…” 

Pursing your lips, you lean back into your seat with a deep sigh. This entire ordeal has been the most stressful time of your life, if not the most notable. The sides of your head feel like they’re pushing against your brain, a massive headache on the way. Sliding down in your seat, your eyes flicker to the time. 

7:43.

‘It’s felt like hours! Only thirteen minutes, huh? I guess time doesn’t fly when you’re speaking to a murderer.’ 

“I do believe it’s my turn to ask you a question now.” Chrollo states, leaning back into the passenger’s seat as if it were his own car. The way he speaks commands such respect, you wonder if it would be impossible for anyone to refute him. You certainly weren’t going to test your luck.

At your lack of rebuttal, he continues. “Why go through all this trouble if not for money? Or prestige?” 

‘Why is he so intent on giving me a midlife crisis?’

“If I had wanted money I would’ve posted detrimental information about you guys,” you respond with an unnatural ease. “But most of the people who do that end up dying. And prestige? Who cares what a bunch of strangers think about me. It’s not gonna do me any good at the end of the day.”

Shaking your head at the thought, you continue. “No, none of those things matter that much. I only wanted to appease my own curiosity. To learn what others tried, only to succeed where they had failed.”

Chrollo hums in response to your heartfelt words. He takes a moment to consider them himself, before leaning in closer to you. At the sudden, unexpected movement; you can’t help but flinch. 

Instead of causing you any harm, he gently places a strand of stray hair behind your ear. Your face ignites in warmth at the tender gesture, your tongue failing to form any coherent words. His cologne almost dulls your senses, overwhelming presence leaving your eyes wide as saucers.

He looks at you with a knowing smile, before retracting his hand and sitting back in the seat. Your hand shakily touches the same area he did, in wild disbelief. 

‘What just happened? Am I dreaming?’ 

“To be truthful, I’ve known about you for a while before now, [First]. I’d been intending on meeting you at some point. It just so happened that everything fell into place the way it did.” Chrollo informs you, serving only to befuddle your feelings further. 

“You’ve fascinated me in the same way I have you. Observation can serve an important purpose, but I’d longed to pick your brain in person instead. Thank you for indulging me.” 

“I-I really don’t know what to say,” you stutter out in response, swallowing thickly. “I knew spending ten dollars on a VPN wasn’t going be enough.” 

“I would’ve found you regardless.” 

‘Good god what is happening? When did breathing become so difficult?’ 

“Oh... well that’s... good to know I think?” 

Chrollo looks at his watch yet again, and you wonder if it means anything detrimental for you. Realistically speaking he probably needs to rekindle with the rest of his group before performing whatever heist they have planned. 

“It looks like our time together has almost run out,” Chrollo says, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “I hadn’t realize how much time went by.” 

Your hunch now confirmed, you once again go over your options. Should he try to do anything to you, there’s still a chance you could make it to the front of the museum in time to alert the bodyguards. If you’re crafty enough, that is. Whether or not you can think coherently in this state is up in the air, as your eyes flicker momentarily to the door handle. 

Hand twitching, you exhale shakily at the thought of your backup plan. What else is there for you to do? Although you’re afraid to test out who’s faster, since you get the feeling it isn’t you. 

Chrollo shakes his head at your obvious thoughts, reaching forward to lock the doors with a dreadful click. 

‘There goes that idea.’

“Still thinking of how to get away, hm?” he asks in a chiding tone, a blush returning to your cheeks at his words. Chrollo seems capable of reading you without even having to try, as frustrating as that is.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do exactly?” you counter, your words coming out shakier than you had hoped. The underlying sarcasm is still there, even with your waning tone. 

“You could come with me instead.” Chrollo offers, in a way that seems too genuine to make any shred of sense. 

“What?” you choke out, spluttering at the implications of his words. 

“Exactly as I said. I’m interested in you, and you know enough now to be considered dangerous,” Chrollo states as if it were obvious. “I know I phrased it like a question, but it’s not exactly a choice."

“In that case, I can’t really say no can I?” you mumble, grasping your hand to hopefully stop it from shaking. Control of your body had slipped through the cracks, leaving you in a constant state of alertness. 

“You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Chrollo looks at you in a way that shows he’s already won. “Instead, you’ll do this.”

“I already have someone monitoring you here -- so running won’t do you any good. Sit here and wait for me to come back. You can do that, can’t you?” 

Biting your lip, all you can do is nod your head. It’s better than dying, you figure. 

Chrollo seems content enough with your obedience, sliding over to leave the same way he had came in. Before he leaves you to your own thoughts, he offers a final quip.

“We’ll have a lot more discuss while we travel together, [First].”

[writingindulgence]

Painting Nails with Gojo Satoru (x reader)

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x (unspecified-gender) reader

Genre: Good friends with some mutual pining, a bit of fluff and a bit of uncertainty, reader has their mind in the gutter for a split second 

Lmao, how long can someone write about painting nails T.T 2800+ words

When you recently mentioned that you had no free time to refresh your nails due to the influx of odd jobs here and there, you didn’t think that it would lead to your long time friend, Gojo Satoru, sneaking into your room at the Tech with a bag full of nail polish.

He was in the middle of laying them out haphazardly onto the coffee table. Colours ranging from neon bright to the darkest of shades stood before your very own eyes on full display. Their shapes were as varied as the palette. Standard round, rectangle shapes, funky stars and fragile butterflies just to name a few. 

The shock of what was transpiring had yet to register in your mind, a dumbfounded look creeping onto your face.

It wasn’t even the first time that this has occurred. Once in a while you would come back from a mission in another city, ready to fall down onto your bed in the one place that you could call home, only to have this excuse for a friend barge in on your time of relaxation. Sometimes, you didn’t inform anyone when you would be back in the hopes of being left alone but he always seemed to find out the best time to annoy you. When you were tired. 

“What the actual fuck are you doing in my room Gojo-san?”, you drop your tattered bag onto the ground before closing the door. 

The feeling of his incoming whines and guaranteed pout had become something of a sixth sense to you now. You thought that maybe he would grow out of it after his teenage years but the gods weren’t as merciful as you once believed them to be. 

“(Y/n)-channnn, why are you so mean to me? I haven’t done anything for you to call me that”, he dramatically groaned out before flopping onto your bed. 

Glancing at the table, you notice that his sudden movement knocked over some of the bottles.  

You also know what he meant by that. You only ever call him ‘Gojo-san’ when he screws up or when you are both in the presence of his students. 

As much as he likes to tease you in front of important people, you aren’t that unprofessional as to disrespect him as an educator in front of the students that he teaches. The kids already make fun of him and if you were to join in at the same time then you would begin pitying the man. 

You walk over to the sprawled lamp post of a human and indicate with your hand to scoot over before proceeding to throw yourself down beside him. 

“What is this about, Toru-kun?”, your eyes lazily scan over the nail polish. Of course you know what is going on but Gojo Satoru is a man that enjoys being humoured. 

Poor Ijichi-kun ends up as the victim of a lot of his whims when you’re away. Scratch that, even when you are around the unfortunate fellow gets bullied like a kindergartner at a playground.

“So~ I’ve noticed that your nails-,”

“I mentioned it.”

“.. have been looking rather-,”

“I mentioned it.”

“..duller than usual so-”,

“I-”, 

His body flew up from the lying position and a hand suddenly came into your view. Before you could do anything, Gojo clamped it over your mouth, an unseen eye-roll definitely going off under his blindfold. 

He wasn’t really irritated but you took it as a win for all the times he irked you in the past month.

“I NOTICED YOUR NAILS LOOKING DULLER THAN USUAL SO I WENT OUT OF MY HUMBLE WAY TO BUY THESE,” he finally lets you go after finishing what he wanted to say.

The sheets under you have become disheveled, your thrashing around to get away and shut his loud mouth in case Principal Yaga hears brought about no results. There was no rule against being in the same room, you weren’t some silly teenagers and even if you were, the Tech wasn’t that strict anyway, but the thought of his disappointing gaze burning into your soul…

Your thoughts are disrupted when Gojo throws two pillows onto the floor. Knowing that there is no escaping this, you dust down your clothes and gracefully sit down. 

Who knows? This may actually turn out to be relaxing. Even if you’re wrong then spending time with friends is precious, no matter the activity. Especially in this line of work. There is no telling when one might hear the news of their comrades’ death. 

Gojo sits on the other free pillow and smiles. “Any colour pulling you in? If not then I would love to recommend, you know, I’m sort of an expert at this.”

You laugh slightly at his confidence before agreeing to his proposal. As long as it’s not too ugly then you really don’t mind what he ends up picking. 

In fact, you trust his judgement when it comes to fashion. His casual outfits always end up taking your breath away. You’re forever glad when he forces you to go along with him to the shopping district. You know your style and what you’re comfortable with but Gojo presents you with something unique every time.

“Hmmmm...then, what about this one?”, the hand that was under his chin as he was contemplating leaves its position and he quickly picks up a (f/c) nail polish. 

The container is cute too, a glass cat face. Though how did he figure out what colour this was with that blindfold? Only Gojo knows. 

You reach out for the item but he leans back and pulls it to his chest. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n)...,” he creates an X with his arms before continuing, “Bzzzt! Did you really think I would be so rude as to leave you alone with that tedious job? Who do you take me for?”. 

He grasps the fabric where his heart is located and fakely sniffles. Oh, so he wants to paint them for you. Figuring out that you may as well indulge in a little care, you extend your hand for him to hold. 

Gojo twists the nail brush open and dips it into the bottle a few times. His tongue is poking out as he tests how much of the liquid is on the brush. You don’t even question how he will paint your nails without seeing properly. Understanding his infinite capabilities has become second nature to you. 

Instead, you focus on the feeling of his hand when it grasps yours. 

It’s bigger and somewhat rougher, though not uncomfortable. Really, it feels secure to have around your own.

Jerking back at your line of thinking, you can feel the heat growing on your face by the second. Calm down there, no need to get ahead of yourself. You’ve held hands many times in the city before so that you don’t get ‘lost’, how is this any different?

“Hey now!,” Gojo grips your hand more firmly than before. 

“Sorry, sorry. I had an itch,” you come up with an excuse and double down when you scratch your shoulder with a free hand. 

He doesn’t say anything in return, there are none of his usual comebacks. That’s suspicious, he always needs to have the last word in no matter what. 

Instead he applies the first stroke of nail polish on one of your nails. 

His movements are steady, no shaking, and he doesn’t miss any spots. The process is...pleasant, being attended to by another. 

He moves on to your second finger, repeating the action from the previous one, applying just as much attention. 

Now that you are sitting still, barely breathing as you look on, his hold has become almost airy. Unless you focused purely on the skin to skin contact, it was as if your hand was levitating. 

Ah, technically he could be using ‘Infinity’ and keeping your hand away but...it made you feel weirdly unhappy. Your mouth tugged down in dissatisfaction unconsciously.

At the same moment, Gojo grasped the next finger on the list, the sudden feeling coming as a surprise. You barely held in the shocked gasp, tingles travelling up your arm. 

He didn’t say anything and continued the procedure. 

You peeked at his face to see if you could read him but there was nothing at all to go off on. No smile, smirk, pout or frown. 

Sheer concentration. 

It wasn’t unwelcome, in fact it was peaceful without the usual banter. And it wasn’t unbearably serious either. If you had to put a word on it then it felt...intimate.‘Wow, what the hell? Chill, he’s only a friend and this is simple nail painting’.

The clock in your room ticked continuously until eventually your fingernails were all finished. It took extra long because Gojo insisted that the proper way to do it was to paint two layers. So in the end you had to sit through another few minutes that honestly felt like an eternity. 

You hoped that you hadn't sweated with how warm it had gotten on your end.

“Alright! It’s your turn (Y/n)-chan,” he made finger guns and pointed them at your bewildered expression. 

“It isn’t fair if only you get this spa worthy treatment, no?”.

“Satoru, I think you overestimate my ability to paint nails. Of course, I do a fantastic job on myself but I am hopeless when it comes to others,” you explain. 

You may have over exaggerated a bit but if this goes on then your thoughts will enter dangerous territory, not that they haven’t already.

Distractions aren’t helpful when you are a jujutsu sorcerer, particularly in the romantic scene. 

Have you daydreamed about such scenarios? Yes. 

Would you like to experience them? Definitely. 

However, what you want and what you can have are at odds with each other.

“Don’t be a bore, come on, come on,” he sticks out his own hand before thinking up something and reaching towards his blindfold. “Let’s make it a challenge. I had such a difficult time so you have to suffer too”. 

He frees his eyesight and stands up. You’re about to follow but he shakes his head and kneels behind you. 

The smooth fabric covers your eyes and the pressure as he tightens the blindfold rubs against the back of your head. This feels like the beginning of a dirty situation-

A resounding smack travels in the enclosed room as you slap your cheeks simultaneously. This isn’t the time nor place.

“I’m accepting my resolve,” you throw out before Gojo can ask you why you hit yourself in the face. 

You hear him shuffle back to the pillow as well as glass tapping against glass. A nail polish bottle is shoved into your unprepared self. “I’m in your hands now,” he laughs stupidly to himself at his own pun. You can’t help cracking a small smile too.

Blindly, you fiddle around in front of you, wanting to start this. Clicking your tongue, you’re about to give out but Gojo finally decides to stop being a prick and gives you his hand. His shakes from laughter make themselves known but you ignore him. 

Unscrewing the bottle cap, you get to work. 

Only, you have to feel around for his fingernail. It’s impossible to hit the target without searching around first. 

You become overwhelmingly aware of the close proximity yet again and your heart skips a beat. The fact that you can’t see anything makes it far worse as your sense of touch becomes more sensitive. Your shaking hand dabs the point where you think the nail polish goes and you begin painting. 

Gojo’s amusement must have stopped too since you don’t hear him chuckling anymore. Is he looking at you? Or is he looking at his poor skin whenever you miss the fingernail? He doesn’t have his blindfold on so his eyes have to be focused on something. 

But what?

The silence becomes unmanageable and the constant skin against skin friction twists your insides. Is it just you? Or does he also think the same way?

“You know, you have pretty eyes. If you start an Instagram page with photos of them then you’ll get a following in no time,” you offhandedly mention to start a conversation. Knowing Gojo he’ll take the compliment, tease you a bit and move on. You shift around in the pillow before progressing onto the other hand, having speedrun the first, before he starts talking.

“That’s not a bad idea. You can do the eyeshadow and we can make some money,” he hums in agreement. The sound of extra cash nearly makes you drool but then a realisation hits you, like a truck an isekai protagonist. If you were to do the eyeshadow then you will no doubt have to be very close to his face. No way.

“On second thought, I don’t think we have the time,” you laugh it off. 

His disagreement comes soon after. 

“Haaaaaaah?! Then why did you mention it?”. His muscles tense, about to pull back to cross his arms but he remembers that you’re in the middle of painting his nails. 

After that, you both fall silent again. 

In the end, you get through the last finger and close the nail polish bottle. You tried your best, having taken your time despite it making you feel a certain way whenever you had to touch him longer than is necessary. 

You get up and reach out to unhook the blindfold but larger hands stop you in your tracks from behind. They pull yours away and drop them at your sides. 

“Allow the amazing gentleman, Gojo Satoru,” he gently takes it off as you stand unmoving. 

When light from the window hits your face, you scrunch your eyelids shut, waiting to adjust to the bright atmosphere. A hand patting down your hair makes them shoot open and you turn around to complain. 

Whatever you were going to say gets caught in your throat as you look up into his light blue eyes. His expression is serene, free of any worries but his eyes seem to be trying to speak a thousand words. 

They too look composed but you get the feeling that he’s trying to communicate something to you.

Swallowing, you clench your hand (conscious of the recently dry nail polish), and place it over your chest. “Satoru..um,” you pause, not fully comprehending what you want to say, or rather, how you want to say it.

Your eyes widen when you notice his hand traveling towards yours. 

Clumsily spinning around, you head for the pillows and shake off the dust that accumulated on them. 

“Thanks for today. I’ll have a nap, since I’m still tired from the flight.” 

You show your gratitude but hide the words your heart wanted to really express. 

You don’t turn around to see his expression. The sound of his blindfold going over his eyes is what you hear first. Then, 

“Don’t worry your sleepy head over it! Sweet dreams, (Y/n)”.

The door opens and closes gently behind you. 

Once you’re sure that he is far down the hallway, you throw yourself onto your bed, put the pillow over your face and scream. Feeling a little foolish, you stop and look over your nails. 

He really did a great job.

-Next Day-

The sun is shining brightly therefore there is no better time to take a walk. Which is why you aren’t surprised when you stumble upon Sukuna’s vessel, Itadori Yuuji. 

The teenager has a tub of ice cream with him. Maybe you should get some too? Gojo is bound to have some in his mini freezer.

“Ah! Hello, (L/n)-san,” the boy waves his hand in greeting and jogs over. 

“Itadori-kun, is it alright for you to be outside like this?,” you ask with concern. 

There are only a few people that know about his current state of being alive. When you heard that he died, you came as fast as possible to comfort Gojo. 

“It’s fine! Everyone is gone and Ijichi-san is on the lookout at the front gate. He’s meant to give me a ring you see”. He looks down.

“Oh! You’ve got some nice nails there,” he points out as he takes a bite out of the dessert. “You match with Gojo-sensei,” he adds after a second.

You pause your appreciative smile at his compliment. Excuse me? 

“Excuse me? Match?,” you prod him to elaborate.

The teenager scratches his cheek. 

“Ehh, but he said the plan was to match all along. Though they don't exactly look the same”.

Your eyes tear up in embarrassment at the turn of events. You’re matching nails? You thought for definite that he would wash them off when he gets back to his room. Not only that but putting the blindfold over your eyes must have been his sly way of making sure that you don't notice they're the same colour. 

Itadori shakes his hands in front of him before bowing. “I-I’m sorry (L/n)-san! I did not mean to insult the way you painted Gojo-sensei’s nails. They are a bit tactless compared to yours but that’s okay,” he apologises profusely, mistaking the root of your shame.

‘That dumbass Gojo Satoru’

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Welcome To The Pack: Sing My Song

Part One

Summary- 6.2k Steve Rogers x You. Having you back makes the Alpha very happy, and has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Which you don’t have any issues with that. Shuri continues her work with you, and making progress everyday, enough so Steve hopes to take you on a run through Wakanda. Bucky and his team are drawing in on Brock, but will they be able to take out the ex Alpha and his bitch for good? Warnings- Smut and Violence. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

A/N- Im breaking this into 2 parts. Its long and I feel like its just a lot to handle all to once. So next chapter will be posted soon. As always, Thank you for sticking with me and The Pack, I hope you all enjoy. As always feedback and your thoughts are encouraged, I’m always open to hearing what you all think and would like to see for them in the future. Happy Reading 🐺❤️

Chapter 8 / Pack Masterlist

You scanned over the crowd, but you still couldn’t see Steve. There were so many people passing mingling, and the room was huge, fit for a palace. You closed your eyes instead and tilted your head slightly to sort through scents, inhaling for him. It made you wish your Little Wolf was back, she would have honed right in on your Alpha. But you could do it on your own, Steve would stand out, woodsy pine and iron, it would stand out from so much of the panthers that the moment you found it, your body curved into it, craving to find the source. Your eyes slid open to look once more and that's when you saw him. His long powerful strides coming towards you, blue eyes roving all of you as if he hungered, all Alpha Male, all your Alpha Male. The white button up was stretched taut over his chest, and the black slacks, crisp, his hands were shoved in his pants pocket for now. Glancing up you could see his hair swept back from his forehead, and underneath his eyes were honed in on you as if stalking you down. In a way he was, as large as Steve was, he weaved through the people with one thing in mind. You. It was simple, and a fitting look for Steve as you felt your breath hitch a moment. His hand swept through his hair, and you could see that he still had a look of surprise on his face, as well as pleasure. Steve seemed to like you looking like this, and that alone made you bite your lip a bit shyly and glance down momentarily, but the moment he paused in front of you, his slight rumble from his chest drew your attention to his warm heated gaze all for you. 

“Little One, you look beautiful.” His hands immediately slid along your side, and stepped in closer, your head tilting up to meet him. 

“You really do like it? Natasha swore up and down that wearing blue would be the best choice.” Your fingers danced up the buttons of the white shirt while Steve circled an arm around you, there was music playing and the two of you started to barely sway while talking. Steve’s hand pressed against the small of your back, heated through the thin fabric of the dress, and you leaned in against him. 

“She was right, reminds me of sitting out on the deck under the night sky when you're wearing this blue.” He assured you and grasped your chin lightly, kissing you deeply. “Come, we must mingle with the Panthers, I know Shuri has been waiting for you.” He nuzzled you gently before tucking you into his side. Already the Alpha felt calmer, more in control having you at his side. The Wolf preened being able to show off the Little One at his side, and Steve had to agree that it did something to him to be escorting you around. 

The night proceeded, and although the function was formal, Steve couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, letting it slide from the small of your back to the curve of your ass, pulling you aside onto the open balconies to steal nipping kisses. You were sure that there was at least a red mark on your neck from where he couldn't help himself, the lash of his tongue and a touch of his teeth making you whimper excitedly while you two were just out of sight. Steve hissed in your ear. “I can't wait to get you back upstairs, make you all mine where I don't have to share you with anyone else.” 

You would tug on his shirt with a whimper, and brush your own lips against his ear. “Still have to play guest Alpha.” And you would lead him back inside, your hand swallowed in his, together getting lost in the crowd, going back to dancing with one another and being introduced to members of the king's guard and other leaders of the tribes following the King. Steve currently got caught up in proper military techniques when you split a way to go to the bar, opting to switch from the liquor they had been serving you to ice water. Tipping your head back and drinking deeply, the ice cold water cleared the parch from your throat when you heard Natasha sidle up to you. Her pale cheeks flushed red from dancing, and her lipstick slightly smudged. 

“Been having a good time Nat?” you smirk, and she winks at you. 

“Just as much as you have been. I've seen you disappearing with Steve every chance you two can get. Plus your lipstick is smudged. More than mine I'm sure.” Natasha pulled out a compact from a wrist bag and handed it over. Grabbing a napkin off the bar, you used a dab of water to clean yourself up. 

“You were right, with this dress, he can't help himself.” You admitted quietly to Natasha so no passersby were aware of their conversation. “I don't know how much longer he's going to want to stay.” 

“Then don't.” Natasha turned around to keep an eye on the crowd, Smirking as she caught the eye of someone. “Speaking of the devil, and he shall appear. Hey Rogers, looking for someone?” she grinned teasing at the Alpha as his hand slid up your back and cupped the back of your neck, his fingers massaging the column loosely. 

“Not you, but there was a panther over on the other side of the room, wondering where you disappeared to.” Steve motioned over his shoulder with his free thumb, and Natasha finished off the last of her drink at the bar. “Then I shall go, I had promised him I wouldn't be long.” She leaned over, pecking your cheek with a grin. “Enjoy your afterparty Y/N.” Before Steve could shoo her away, she disappeared from sight, and you turned towards Steve, sipping from what was left of your glass of water. “Thirsty Alpha?” you held up the glass and he groaned. 

“I am thirsty, but not for water.” He pulled away the glass from your hold and pulled you in for a deep kiss, taking your breath away. Pulling away before he got too carried away, Steve dipped his nose in against your neck, growling possessively against your pulse when you started to arch into his body, the whisk of fabric between you two reminding you both that you were not back home. 

You and Steve put in some more effort to mingle with the others, but once you nudged against Steve's shoulder about an hour later, whispering into his ear that you were tired, Steve nodded while placing a kiss against your temple “Give me a moment to excuse us.” He left you for a moment at a table to bid T’Challa a good night, and thank the queen for her hospitality. When he returned to the table, offering his arm to you, you grasped it lightly and moved to a stand. “You ready Little One to go up?”

“Yes Alpha” You stifled a bit of a yawn, that made Steve chuckle and together you headed for the elevator to the top floors. 

 Back in the room, Steve was quick to pin you up against the door once it shut behind you, his mouth heavy and demanding on your neck. It had been torture for Steve to wait to be alone with you after T’Challa brought up the idea of future children. It made him heated thinking about it, wanting to bury inside you, watching you come undone all for him. Add that dress that clung to all your curves he was becoming familiar with, well it made him left with a hard on that was driving him crazy. 

You tilted your head back to let him inhale you and leave his own scent, his beard rough against your flesh while burning a trail in that way that made your knees shake and your body want more. Your fingers nimbly tug at his shirt until buttons popped across the floor and you pressed hands against the muscular wall of his chest, and around to his bare back, digging your nails into the muscles jerking in response. “Steve, you feel so good.” you panted his name and he lifted his head up enough to look at you. “Get me out of the dress.” You flipped around so he could undo the ties and he tried. Fuck he tried. But there was just so much, and Natasha tied it so tight, his fingers wouldn't cooperate in just this moment. Giving one frustrated growl, Steve yanked hard once and the fabric ripped, making you gasp. 

“STEVE! This was Shuri’s dress.” You giggled softly, and he drew it off, his hands grasping against the globes of your ass through your panties, making him growl in a teasing manner as he pulled your ass back into him. 

“You tore off my buttons.” He hissed against the back of your neck while pressing his groin into you, clearly able to feel the outline of his cock through the fabric of his slacks, making you tilt your head to look at your Alpha over your shoulder. “I will buy her a new dress.”  

“You should probably replace the shirt as well, right? We did borrow it for tonight.” You giggled softly. Steve gave a sharp laugh, amused with your attitude and he gave a sharp nip to your neck which made you yelp with a laugh as his arm circled around you to lift you, bringing you to the bed. He let you bounce on the mattress while he worked on getting his pants and boxers off with a sense of urgency. You twisted and laid on your back, watching Steve while you pressed your hands against your breasts and arched into your hold as you teased your nipples through the fabric of your bra, saying his name again. “Mmmhh, Steve.” 

Finally ditching the last of it, he grabbed your ankles and dragged you down the bed a bit. “Little One, I don't think so. Only one allowed to touch you, is me. Only one to get you off is me.” You gave a playful pout as his shoulders parted your thighs open till you spread them. Giving a inhale against your clothed core and running his tongue over your soaking cotton panties, you wriggled as another rush of wetness filled you. “Fuck you smell so good, just like sex.” growling out as his fingers found the elastic band holding it all together and snapped it sharply, making you yelp at the sting while he peeled the wet cloth away from you.  

“We are all about destroying all the clothes today Alpha?” You lifted your head to look at him, biting on your lip as he dragged his tongue along the red mark the snap of the band had caused.  

“When you look and taste this good, you don't need them Little One.” His eyes lust blown, lips wet and bright red where he had dragged them against your skin. Your gaze followed him as his tongue buried into your folds while his hands pressed against the back of your thighs, folding you back. 

“Oh Fuck!” You cried out, feeling your body stretch tight with the way he folded you and his tongue tease your sensitive cunt while he groaned and growled just enough to vibrate through you. A tug at your clit had you snapping your back and twisting to find something to grasp and Steve angled a forearm against the back of your knees to keep you open for him. Fingers soon started to stretch you open, adding to the full sensation he was demanding from you. At first your hands sought to grip the sheets, but it wasn't useful to tug on them. Instead you pushed your fingers into his hair, pulling harshly and rocking your hips to grind yourself against his face for more. Steve’s beard burned your thighs and sensitive folds roughly, causing you to cry out once in a while. But he didn't stop till you were locking around his digits, rush of your juices escaping to coat his tongue and lower jaw. He wouldn’t stop though, if anything when you came, he doubled his efforts, his mouth and fingers working you through it to the end when you collapsed back against the mattress. 

“Steve you gotta stop for a moment.” you tugged gentler on his hair, trying to get him to lift his head. But his eyes lifted and you shuddered from his look. Steve had no plans on stopping yet. 

Fingers twisted to stroke your walls, and just the motion made you want to do just as he asked for. He nipped the back of your highs he had held back, worked down to sink his teeth in plump ass cheeks enough to leave a playful imprint before going back to tease and suck on your clit. 

The Alpha had you coming once again, locking around his fingers, and he nuzzled against you while lapping your essence with satisfaction. “So good Little One.” His beard dragged a moment along the back of your thighs, leaving a trail of yourself in its wake. It was only then that Steve let your legs fall back and his hands framed your hips to slide you up the bed, pressing kisses and gentle bites to your fluttering stomach till he had you where he wanted you. Steve pushed himself up your body to drag that soaked beard along your skin, biting just hard enough to make you jump slightly, whining his name. 

“Alpha” 

He rumbled from his chest in pleasure hearing you call him Alpha, his hands palming your breasts through your bra, and working your bra down enough to expose your breasts. “Yes Little One?” He asked before he claimed a nipple, sucking and tugging on it, pressing a finger back into your heat, spreading slick and teasing your spot only his long fingers could reach. He was bringing you high again, rather quickly as you never came back down from before. Your whine turns needy, your fingers grasping at anything, his back, his shoulders, his hair. None of them could quite save you, not when he was looking at you while swirling the tongue over your nipple until they were hard peaks, so sensitive that you were arching into it over and over “You're going to make me cum again.” 

A particular hard suck made you shudder as he smirked. “That's the goal Little One. Your not leaving till I’ve had my fill and I fuck you good. Seeing you dolled up like that made the Wolf hungry.” He promised, before switching to the other, and his weight across your body kept you in place while you came again all over his hand that was pumping and grinding your cunt. 

“Steve, oh I need a breath.” you said in a gasp, your hands fisting in your hair as you tried to drag air into your lungs. But he didnt give in yet. Sliding up the rest of your body, his lips interlaced against yours, tongue that was warm and still tasted of your taint took control, and at this point, you just hung on, trying to draw air where you could. Only when you were gasping for air against his lips did he lift away from you, taking a lingering look at you. 

Steve’s eyes were like caresses all on their own, taking his own sharp inhale to enhance the moment before his gaze fell back to yours and a smile ghosted his lips. “You look beautiful tonight, especially right now, all dazed and breathless Little One.” His hands eased along your hips and twisted you to your stomach, lifting your waist up so your ass was raised above you, his palms cupping your curved globes and letting his fingers sink in. It was no secret that Steve loved seeing you in this position, and truth be told it was one of your favorites as well. It reminded you of your heat with Steve having you this way, and you felt him for days afterwards. His marks would be left on your hips, and every time you caught sight of them in the mirror following that heat, you were excited, turned on knowing he couldn't contain himself, having sent him into a rut.  Here you took a breath, drawing it deep and humming in satisfaction when he leaned over you to place hungry kisses against the back of your neck. 

“One day when you're ready,  I'm going to give you the bite Little One, I will take away the memories of these scars. Of those hands.” His nose traced the back of your neck, dropping your head to let the sensation fill you. “These will be the only ones to trace your skin, hold your body still. The only one to love you like this.” 

How badly you wanted just what he said, curling your fingers into the pillows you were pressed against and took a dragging breath. You wanted to tell him to do it, you wanted it, you only wanted his bite to be the one that mattered on your body. But you didn't want to do it without your Little Wolf, the bond belonged to both of you. 

“You promise?” You whined, shivering wherever his hands traced you, and his mouth laid claim to the curve where your neck met your shoulder. “When the time is right?” 

“As long as you will have me Little One.” He growled as his cock pressed against your cunt, and so easily stretched you open for him, your head was thrown back and he wrapped a hand around the front of your throat while he thrusted himself in further. The stretch, it felt so good that tears formed in the corner of your eyes and you arched back to meet him, pressing yourself to accept all of him. Steve set the pace, rutting behind you with a slap of hips against your ass, and shared grunts and groans between you. You were pressing your chest into the mattress till he pulled you up to your elbows, shifting your angle and tilting his hips to grind into you, you gasped when he pressed against your spot. 

“Again Steve- fuck- right there, fuck!” 

“Such a dirty mouth on you Little One.” be licked along your neck and you whimpered when he obliged, now aiming just for that spot over and over till you were crying rather loudly in pleasure, tears streaming down your face and sobs of incoherent words falling from you. Your cunt squeezing and flexing around him for relief, to feel him spill in you. 

“Fuck, your right there.” He hissed out from clenched teeth, and his hand slipped around to press against your lower stomach to feel his cock drive into you, swelling and pulsing as he pressed down making you whimper once more at the sensation of how full you were. Steve could have came right there hearing you whimper at him like that, knowing he was taking you apart just to bring you back together. It was then he let his hands fall lower between your thighs pressing and rolling your clit, making you buck underneath him.

“Alpha, Oh-!” you cried out, and Steve just growled in response, a loud animalistic sound ripping from him.

Your nails dug into the pillows until you pressed a knuckle into your mouth, biting down. The rush, it was fast coming, those coils in your belly snapping one by one till you locked around him, flooding him and half collapsing if it wasn't for his hold on your throat. “So good Little One.” Steve grunted in your ear, and moaning softly to let him know you heard, his thrusts started to slow, groaning as he dragged his cock through your swollen cunt. His breaths heavily against the back of your neck and his chest pressed hotly against your back . 

Steve's hands grasped your hips and straightened to chase his own rush, sure to fill you with his own seed, the drive to fuck a child in you made both him and the wolf happy, and he let those images drive his hips forward till he started to tilt over the edge, with several hard thrusts that pushed you hard into the mattress beneath you, the air from your lungs escaping in a harsh gasp. Steve's release painted you with his seed, pushing it deep to the womb. “Fuck Little One, I’m never going to get enough of you.“ He groaned as he sank to drape over your back and his weight kept you pinned there for a moment as he came back to you. Nuzzling your neck, he wasn't able to move away, the knot still buried deep, but he could relieve the pressure on your back. 

“I'm gonna roll us a bit.” He huffed against your shoulder and you whined as he tipped you and him to your sides, spooning behind you now while you still were catching your breath. 

Your face was pressed into the pillow for a few moments, until you tilted your head to breath, drawing in the sex filled air, heavy with the scent of your sweaty satisfied bodies. You could feel the rasp of Steve's chest against your back, his hands pressed to your hip keeping you drawn back against him while the feeling of his knot was still holding you to him. Your hand reached back for his, weaving your fingers through his and bringing it to wrap around your midsection. 

“Alpha?” You said softly, and you could feel him nuzzle the back of your neck, scenting you as he hummed in response. 

“Are you okay Little One?” he shifted enough so that he could kiss your shoulder. Gentleness compared to his mouth before on you. 

“Yes, I am fine.” You tilted your head to look at him over your shoulder, your fingers squeezing with his just a bit. Your Little Wolf would have been so proud, and how you wished she could have been with you for this. “I love you Steve Rogers, Alpha. My Alpha” 

Steve's eyes widened, although he had felt this for you well before Pierce, or what he felt was love, it was so very different this time then it was before with his ex, he had never wanted to push you into feeling the same way. But hearing those words fall so easily from you, he knew what it was. You were quick though to press your fingers against his mouth before he could say anything. 

“Dont, you don't have to say it back. You don't have to Steve.” Your eyes flickered over his before you settled back down, Steve gave an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue pressing against the thrum of your pulse, just barely grazing his teeth against the very spot he would give you the bite once you say you were ready for it. 

“Y/N, Little One, I love you too, my Omega.” You shivered a bit hearing him call you Omega, his omega. It was a term honored for someone truly special to an Alpha. You could feel your heart almost ache hearing him. 

Steve never pulled out, you ended up drifting to sleep like that, your Alpha wrapped around you, inside you, your head cradled on his bicep. His other arm was splayed against your stomach as he held you close to him, his nose buried in your hair. Both of you are satisfied and at ease. The dreams that night, Steves Wolf continued howling for his Little Wolf, and you saw pale flashes of fur in your mind and barely audible howls back to him, or were those just his echos? 

Days turned into a week, and daily Steve would bring you to Shuri’s lab, then back to the room to rest as you would be tired. Her technology was fascinating to Steve, Him and Natasha would watch Shuri work from just outside her lab. Steve didn't want to be far from you, and Natasha was keeping an eye on her Alpha. When Shuri got to work, large images would be portrayed before her, and it didn't take long for both the wolves watching to realize that they were seeing an image of your mind, the electrical current of your thoughts and memories, your brain telling your body what to do. Shuri chased each one with intense concentration till she would isolate it, figure out what the charge was for and right the issue. Each day a little more would happen. One day at lunch with Steve and Natasha, you suddenly grasped Steve’s forearm in surprise. “I saw her, she wouldn't answer me, but I saw her.” You would say, your eyes snapping shut to seek her out. Natasha paused mid bite with her food, and Steve turned towards you. 

His hands cupped your face and a soft rumbling demand escaped. “Open your eyes.” They sprang open for him to search them, sure that the Little Wolf would make herself known to him soon. A spark of yellow, a soft howl for his Wolf. Anything, but nothing yet. “She will be back soon, a little more everyday.” Steve assured you afterwards. 

And it happened again, Steve was gentle in his love making that night. His hands clasped against yours that were pressed on either side of your head, rolling himself in and out of you as you withered beneath him with soft cries and moans. Chanting his name in that soft whisper the closer you were about to come for him like it was a way to keep yourself from falling apart beneath him. 

He flushed kisses down your neck and chest. Keeping his thrusts slow and deep, letting you feel that stretch and drag of his cock through your channel. It was an afternoon of lazy lovemaking for you both. No desire to reach an end, but enjoying the feeling of each other.  Your legs ached with tension when they locked around his hips, the rest of your body stiffening underneath him while arching your chest into his. You head tilted back into the pillows and instead of your passionate cry, you howled instead. It started out in a soft tone and rose sharply till you collapsed underneath him, your eyes opening to show hints of yellow. You were too dazed to even know what happened, and Steve didn’t say anything while you were like this. He dropped his head to yours, catching your lips to kiss you while he found his own ending, lowering himself to keep you secure between him and the mattress while you clung to him. 

Afterwards you were laying against his chest, his hand sliding up and down your back, and your breathing telling him you were asleep. Steve thought back on that intimate moment, and how you had let yourself go to your wilder side. 

<She’s close. I can smell her coming back.> The Wolf said excitedly, his muzzle lifting to smell for her. <It will be the Full Moon here soon, she will want to run.> 

Steve's head dropped against your head, inhaling deeply. Sure enough you smelled like you always did to him, soft honeysuckle and fresh ferns, but there was that other distinct scent. You. You and Your Wolf. She was coming back. 

Just a few more days. Your right. Just in time for the Full Moon. We will speak about it to T’Challa. 

When Steve did bring it up with the Panther, he was more than understanding, as his people used the Full Moon to do their own gathering. “Of course, if she is ready, You, Natasha and Y/N feel free to go anywhere in Wakanda. No one will stop you from your Run.” 

Elated with this news, Steve was sure to thank him profusely, and go tell Natasha. A knock on her door and she opened it, ushering him into her room. You were curled up on her couch, currently using a phone to talk to Sara. 

“Just here and there. Steve said he noticed her the other night. I’m hoping for it any day now. I really do miss her.” Catching Steve’s scent, and hearing him greet Natasha, you turned back to your phone call. “In fact he’s here right now. Would you like to talk to him?” You questioned while unfolding from your spot, and approaching him. His arm held out so you could tuck into him while handing him the phone. “It's Sara, she was just checking in on us.” 

Pressing the phone to his ear, he could hear his friend's sleepy voice. “Hey Alpha, Y/N tells me you all are really doing good in Wakanda.” 

“Yes, we are. I know Natasha’s been enjoying the extra sun for sure.” His gaze turning to the red wolf, who now was sporting a tan, she grinned and nodded, speaking a bit louder. “I might just stay, there's this one Panther Sara, who is just… whew!” 

Steve scowled at her while you laughed, hiding your face in his side, and Natasha had no shame in her Cheshire Grin. 

“You would fit right in here, you're basically a feline now Romanoff.” Steve replied with a shrug, feigning he wouldn't care, but both you and Nat knew better.  

Sara on the other end was howling with laughter, Sam could be heard in the background. “Go back to sleep!” A shuffle sounded, and a click of the door signaled she left the room to Sam. 

“How’s Sam liking you two being the stand ins?” Steve turned it back to the conversation. 

“Oh he grumbles and complains, but he's just fine. You know Sam. We have this place running just fine till you and Y/N come home.” 

“And Bucky, Clint, Wanda and Pietro?” Steve questioned, almost hesitant. He hadn't heard anything from Bucky since he arrived, and had hoped Sara at least had. But the sound of her voice was soft. 

“No Steve, nothing. I have left several messages. To be honest, I'm getting worried about them.” 

Steve and the Wolf didn't like that, a slight rumble brushing through the Wolf in worry for his packmates. Torn between wanting to go back to find the group, and making sure you had everything you needed to bring back your Little Wolf left him unsettled. “I don't expect to be here much longer, if you don't hear from one of them in a few days, send out a call to the packs nearby. Maybe one of them has seen the group.” 

Natasha sat on edge of the couch, near you listening intently. Once Steve hung up, she got up. 

“Let me go home. You two are fine without me now.” 

Steve hesitated and you shrugged at him softly from behind Natasha. It seemed like a good idea, as he had said before, they shouldn't be here too much longer. and the Alpha nodded. “Starks jet is still here, go and see if they are okay. If Brock did something to any of them… “ He led off in a growl and Natasha nodded, going to gather her stuff. You pushed off the couch and went to Steve, rubbing at his rumbling chest and looking up at him. 

“I'm sure they are okay Alpha.” you said, and he nodded, letting his hands ease along your back, the simple move making him relax, regain his calm.  

“I'm sure they are just busy on the trail.” 

Busy was right, Bucky watched out front of where they found Brock and Alanna, holed up. A series of trails finally led them to here, in this suburban looking area where every house looked exactly the same. The last place Brock would have thought they would look for him, seeing how he hated people as much as he did. It was exactly what Bucky suspected him to do. 

<Clint and Wanda are out back, Pietro with us. It's probably the best time to storm the place. Most of the neighborhood is at work.> The White Wolf cautious to his surroundings, as vigilant as his human counterpart. The beast craved to be more hidden, out of sight. Right now Bucky was leaning against the door of the car with a pair of binoculars, scoping the place out for any sign of movement. Any sign of Cassandra still being alive. 

I hate to go in when nobody is there, we will just blow our cover and they will be gone again. I can smell them easily, but I can't tell if anyone is inside. 

There was a slight crackle to Bucky's earpiece. “Barnes, we just had a curtain move upstairs and Alanna looked out. She’s at least there, and I doubt she would stay all alone.” Clint's voice came over. Pietro looked at Bucky expectantly, waiting for him to make the decision. 

<He’s in there. Rumlow is a son of a bitch, but he's untrusting of anyone, including a bitch he claimed as his. He won't leave Alanna alone with Cassandra. He knows Alanna is a jealous bitch.> Bucky pondered the White Wolf’s words a moment and then responded to Clint. “You and Wanda go in the back, we will go in the front. Watch yourselves.” 

Pietro and Bucky left the van, quick to go across the street. Bucky heard a loud bang of a door, and his foot also connected to the front door, ramming it in as they entered. Hoping for an element of surprise, expecting it actually. What they weren't expecting was several smoke bombs to go off, their senses overwhelmed with the burning smoke. Clint tried to get up higher, above it while rushing up the stairs, a boot connected to his chest to push him back down. A masked Rumlow leaping over the bannister and landing in front of Bucky. “Fuck, good to see you again Barnes.” He laughed muffled into his mask while he went after the White Wolf, who was still coughing and trying to catch his breath. He was able to match Brock's throws, blocking them, and giving off his own while he wheezed in more of the gas. 

From behind Alanna went for Wanda, who was trying to summon enough of a breeze to dislodge the gas, red sparks shooting around her, but a swing connected behind the woman's head before she even knew anything hit her, and Wanda was down. Pietro was doubled over coughing when he happened to notice Wanda collapse nearby and made his way to his sister. He leaned down next to her to slide his arms underneath her to bring her out of the house, when Alanna caught him unaware as well, Pietro collapsing next to Wanda. Alanna was quick to pull out two sinister looking collars from her back pockets, and latched them around each person's neck while calling out. “two out of four Brock!” 

“Get the fucking archer!” He snarled as he blocked Bucky again while the two men moved crashing around the room. Both of them tripping over living room furniture and trying to get the upper hand against the other. Bucky faltered for a second, hearing that two of his team were already taken out. Brock took that moment to send him sprawling back to crash into a bookcase, sending its contents scattering.

Alanna paid no heed to who was getting the upper hand between Brock and Bucky. She had her order from her Alpha, and that sent her scrambling to get to the staircase, and up the stairs to take care of Clint. Looking up she didn't see any sign of him, and fear of where he might be made her and her wolf hesitate in a cower for a second. She knew she wouldn't be a match for him. Not single handed.  Smirking she turned back to Wanda and Pietro, who were now collared, and starting to come around. “Sobaki.” Alanna called them dogs in Russian, and they both turned their attention to her, eyes lowered and vacant as they stared ahead, waiting for her command. 

“Ahh, that's better. Go get Clint and put this on him.” She handed Wanda another collar, and barked out. “NOW!” 

Without hesitation, both the siblings went racing up the stairs, and Alanna could turn her attention to Brock and Bucky, who were both evenly matched. But Bucky was starting to get the upper hand, placing more hits to Brock, instead of blocking. Taking advantage of his opponent getting tired, using his speed and size to back him up, leaving him no way to escape. “Where is she?” Bucky screamed his question as he started to corner Brock, his teeth bared at the ex alpha. 

Brock spit blood off to the side while dragging his forearm across his mouth. His whole demeanor changed from a scowl to a red stained grin, his face going hard and cold as he squared his shoulders, a smirk sliding in place. “Cassandra your sweet little village whore? Is that who you're talking about?” Bucky closed the gap between the two, a hand flipping a knife out from a holster at his side, and pressing the blade to Brock’s bobbing adam’s apple.

“You tell me where she is Rumlow, and I might kill you quickly.” Bucky threatened.

[hanatiny]

[1:48] Exhausted

disclaimer: pic isn’t mine, credit goes to its original owner uwu

a/n: h-hello… can’t believe the first piece of writing I post on here is a smut,,,, yet here we are. feedback is appreciated, hope you enjoy :)

genre: smut

pairing: Hongjoong x reader x Seonghwa

word count: 1356

It was nearing 2 am when Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, got back to the dorms. He was ready to just spend the night with his loving girlfriend, sharing the occasional kiss and cuddling in his bed until they both eventually fell asleep, and he knew you’d be waiting for him. What he didn’t expect to see, however, was you cuddled up to Seonghwa, seeming awfully friendly, and a spark of what he assumed to be jealousy caused his eyes to darken with a low growl as he dropped his bag and started walking towards you.

You didn’t even hear him come in, engrossed in your conversation as you were, so you jumped in your seat with a yelp when he nipped on your earlobe. “Didn’t know you were so close to my hyung, babygirl…”, he whispered. A shiver ran through you at his comment. “I… We’re not as close as you think…” “Is that so?” He pulled away from you. “Explain this, then.”, he demanded, gesturing to Seonghwa’s arm around your shoulders and his hand resting on your thigh, dangerously close to your core. “Well, um… I…”, you stuttered, unable to form a coherent answer to your lover’s question with how piercing his eyes were as he stared at you, eyebrow raised. You dropped your gaze to your lap, face flushed red.

He sighed loudly and shared a look with Seonghwa, nodding at him. You heard your boyfriend hum and looked up at him.

“Joongie…?”, you called for him, promptly being ignored as he walked around to the front of the couch you were on so he could passionately claim your lips with his, your arms wrapping around his neck with a soft moan. Your eyes flew open when you felt Seonghwa’s hand creep to in-between your legs and palm your heat through the thin fabric of your panties, and you pulled away from Hongjoong with kiss-swollen lips, just in time to catch the mischievous glint flashing through his eyes as he smirked.

A shudder went through you when he spoke, voice hardly above a whisper as his hands slid up and underneath your thin shirt while Seonghwa pulled his away. “Kitten, if you’re going to be this greedy and make it this obvious, we’ll have to make sure you’re given a proper punishment~”

He turned you around, pulling your lower half into his lap, the rest of your body colliding with Seonghwa with an “oof”.

“Well? Get to work, princess.” You couldn’t tell who gave the order, mind already hazy from arousal as you muttered a “yes sir” and unbuckled Seonghwa’s belt with shaky hands before watching him pull his pants and boxers off in one swift movement. You swallowed nervously at the size of his cock, unsure of whether you could take it entirely. Your boyfriend eagerly nudged you from where he sat, stroking your thighs affectionately, causing you to take a deep breath and take as much of Seonghwa’s length into your mouth as you possibly could, realizing with shock how big he actually is. “H-Hwa…”, you whined weakly as he ran his hand through your hair, giving an experimental thrust of his hips and making you gag slightly.

“Fuck… you should’ve told me how good her mouth is.” Hongjoong hummed at his friend, amused, as he pulled your panties off, the cold air hitting your heat causing you to shiver involuntarily.

“We’ve barely done anything to you, and you’re already dripping? I had no idea you were so hungry for cock, love…” You wiggled your hips a bit in an attempt to coax him into doing something and, to your surprise, it worked – you had no idea when he freed his dick from its confines, but you definitely weren’t complaining when you felt him teasingly press his tip against your entrance and you let a strangled yelp escape your mouth.

You were a little anxious about this whole situation initially, but you had a safeword in place and knew that neither of the guys would ever hurt you on purpose, and so you pushed yourself back onto your boyfriend’s cock while digging your nails into Seonghwa’s thighs to ground yourself.

“So willing to be ruined by us, doll, so pretty and obedient…”, the latter breathed huskily, at the same time as Hongjoong burying his cock as deep inside your pussy as he could. You keened as he leaned forward, sucking on your neck.

…And then he thrusted, hard, pushing you further down on Seonghwa’s cock and causing you to choke. As if there was a secret pact of sorts between the two men, Seonghwa gave another thrust, bottoming out inside of your throat and making a broken moan slip past your lips. What happened in the next few seconds was mostly a blur to you, mind already clouded from pleasure, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing considering who was responsible for it.

You finally lost it when both Hongjoong and Seonghwa started thrusting into you at same time, their cocks stretching both of your holes oh-so-deliciously and you couldn’t help mewling excessively loudly, the feeling being overwhelming and your jaw going slack.

When your lover then reached forward to pinch your clit, subsequently changing the angle he was pounding into you at, you just about screamed, melting into him as you sloppily continued working your tongue on the other’s length and dug your nails into said male’s strong thighs. Hongjoong moaned lowly into your ear, voice husky and seemingly an octave or two deeper than usual, as he kept on playing with your body and using it to quench his desire. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart… Such a good little slut, taking our cocks so well…”

You heard Seonghwa groan, leaning up in your drunken haze to look at him with his hand still pulling on your hair, and with how he twitched in your warm mouth, you could tell he was close, and all it took for him to release himself down your throat was a well-placed swirl of your tongue on his tip and he let out a loud moan, smirking at seeing you swallow every single, sweet drop he was giving to you with his continuously bucking hips before he eventually softened and pulled out of you, letting go of your hair as well.

Your face hit the couch cushion cheek-first once Seonghwa had moved away a bit, and you panted while Hongjoong continued drilling into your tight heat like there was no tomorrow. “P-please~ I’m gonna… gonna cum, daddy. C-can I~?”, you whimpered pathetically, desperately hoping your boyfriend would be swayed by your begging and say yes. “Hm~ With how nicely you’ve been behaving, I might as well let you. Cum on my cock, princess.”

That was the final straw for you it seemed, your walls fluttering around his throbbing dick uncontrollably, your whole body spasming as you screamed out your orgasm for the world – or neighborhood, rather – to hear. You were promptly silenced, however, when you felt a hand wrap around your throat and squeeze it gently, your eyes snapping open as your back arched underneath Hongjoong. He pushed himself to the hilt inside of you with a grunt, hitting your sweet spot just right, and painted your insides white with his cum before eventually pulling out when he had finished, watching with a chuckle when you briskly shivered as some of it spilled out of you. “I love you, and I love the way you let me fill you up every time…”

He cooed affectionately, picking you up carefully and making his way to the bathroom with you. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”, he doted on you, tilting his head back to signal Seonghwa to come with, his exposed neck too tempting not to nip on and he hummed, amused.

He did love you and he won’t lie, he really enjoyed seeing you choke on his friend’s cock so willingly. Unbeknownst to him, you had enjoyed that session more than you let on, and will definitely attempt to bring up the wish to repeat it, maybe even with switched roles…

[tk-writer]

The Great King. [Haikyuu!! - Oihina]

Hinata and Oikawa try to practice together, but someone is too starstruck by the other to focus.

Word count: 1827

~~~~

There was something about Oikawa that made Hinata more nervous than anyone else.

When the third year approached him after the last Karasuno/Aoba Johsai practice match and proposed to help him practice his quick attacks, Hinata practically jumped at the offer. Mostly to piss Kageyama off, but also because he understood how valuable this opportunity would be. A private training session with a highly skilled opponent would only help him soar to even greater heights, especially when that opponent had gifts like Oikawa.

But having the setter’s full attention was more flustering than he thought it would be.

His unbelievable talent and good looks weren’t the only thing that intimidated him. Sure, being in the presence of the Great King was enough to make his heart race and his stomach do flip flops every five seconds, but Hinata knew that his power of observation was his greatest strength. No one else in the prefecture had an eye for detail quite like him. 

Perhaps it was the way his dark brown eyes focused so intently on Karasuno’s greatest decoy, or all the comments he made about Hinata’s movements that made it clear he was concentrating on him and him alone. Just knowing that one of the best players in the prefecture was observing him so closely...

Well, it was entirely too much.

“...Earth to shorty! Are you listening to me?”

A sing-songy voice grabbed Hinata’s focus and reminded him where he was. He lifted his head and saw Oikawa looking at him expectantly while spinning a slightly deflated volleyball in his hands. Once he realized he’d zoned out again, he sputtered out a meek apology with a slight bow.

“Y, yeah! Sorry!!”

“You’ve been zoning out a lot today. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

There was no way he could actually tell him how he really felt. It was way too embarrassing. Instead, he shook his head and ignored the heat creeping up his neck, hoping Oikawa wouldn’t notice his agitation.

“Nothing! Please toss me the ball again, I’ll hit it harder this time!”

He knew Oikawa wasn’t convinced, but he shrugged it off anyway and dropped the subject for the time being, much to Hinata’s relief. 

They started talking about proper jumping forms, and Hinata did his best to listen. He met Oikawa’s intense gaze, focusing all his efforts on keeping eye contact and in turn neglected to register his words. He nodded every once in a while, but in truth it was difficult to keep listening when he was looking at him so intently.

It became impossible, however, when Oikawa started touching him. 

“... And you twist your midsection, just like this.”

Hinata tensed up as soon as he felt Oikawa’s large hands around his waist. He flinched, more noticeably than he would’ve liked, but managed to choke back a yelp. Praying Oikawa hadn’t noticed, his hopes were dashed when he saw the setter smirking in amusement.

“Relax, shorty. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

“Sorry!!” Hinata spit out.

He flinched again when Oikawa’s fingers brushed against the underside of his forearm, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever. Despite that, he obeyed when his senpai told him to lift his arms higher while he was spiking. He heard the third year chuckling under his breath, so quietly that it was almost inaudible. 

Was he doing this on purpose? 

It seemed so, with the way he always gently placed his hands on Hinata’s waist, the soft snicker he tried to hide every time Hinata twitched, the slight pressure and wriggling of his fingers against the thin fabric of his t-shirt… it couldn’t possibly be an accident.

Oikawa was onto him.

“Uh, Oikawa-san? It’s getting kind of late… shouldn’t we close up the gym now?” 

He didn’t really want to stop, but he knew he’d make a fool of himself if he stayed any longer. After he raced through his question in a panicked tone, Oikawa raised one eyebrow and gave him a peculiar look.

“What’s this? Hinata Shouyo wants to stop playing volleyball? Pigs must be flying.”

“Sorry!! It’s just that… I’m having some trouble focusing today and I don’t know why!”

“Hmm, well alright. I guess that’s enough for today.”

Hinata breathed a sigh of relief as Oikawa started making his rounds, picking up the discarded volleyballs laying uselessly around the court. He was full of confidence and self-assurance even in mundane moments like this, walking with his head held high and his chest out like a warrior. He was truly worthy of the title Great King. The first year felt warmth spread in his cheeks, thinking about how much of an honor it was that Oikawa wanted to practice with him and him alone.

Once everything was put away and the net was neatly rolled up, Oikawa put one arm around Hinata’s neck and led him to the nearest bench where the two of them plopped down. It happened so fast Hinata didn’t have a chance to protest.

“So, what’s on your mind? You can tell your senpai,” he purred in his ear, making him shudder in place. He was sitting so close to him, their thighs were practically touching, and Hinata felt his palms start to sweat. He rubbed them against his shorts while he attempted to put words to his thoughts.

“Um… well, I… uh...”

“Come on, why so jumpy? I’m not that scary, am I?” Oikawa poked his side playfully, eliciting a sharp squeal from the first year.

“-Aaaah!”

At first, Oikawa’s eyes widened. Then, his lips parted slightly before the corners of his mouth began to turn upwards. Hinata could practically see the gears turning in his head, until suddenly it was like a lightbulb had been turned on. His eyes lit up while he cracked an all-knowing grin and suddenly Hinata felt very, very nervous.

“Ohhh. You’re ticklish, aren’t you? 

“No!! I mean, yeah! I mean, wait, wait!!”

The extra emphasis on that word made Hinata fidget even more. He crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head frantically, doing a terrible job convincing the devious-looking setter who was inching closer and closer by the second. 

“I knew it. You were so squirmy every time I touched you. Do you like being tickled?”

“Whahahat?”

Oikawa poked his side again, this time a little higher near his ribs. The sensation felt like lightning and shot through his body, causing him to jump back and let out another undignified squeal. He poked him again, and again, and again, until he finally broke out into cheery little giggles that echoed loudly throughout the gymnasium.

“I don’t hear a ‘no’. Does that mean you like it?”

“Ahahahahaha! Wahahait!!”

Hinata was too flustered to do anything but laugh. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and he didn’t dare look Oikawa in the eyes. He squeezed them both shut as his senpai gave up the pokes and instead stroked the length of his sides, humming a tune while Hinata snickered and tried to twist away. Then, out of nowhere, he wrapped his hands around his kouhai’s waist like lobster claws and dug in. He alternated between harder squeezes and light scribbles, as if experimenting with different techniques to see which affected him the most. The squeezing really made him cackle, so he stuck with that method for a bit longer.

“Ehehehehee! GAHAHAHA!”

“Not gonna answer? I guess I’ll just keep going, then~...”

Hinata batted weakly at his hands, already spent after just a few seconds. In a moment of misjudgement he raised his arms to try and grab Oikawa’s wandering hands, and once the setter saw an opening, he dug his fingers into his underarms and wiggled them all around until Hinata sounded like he was going to shatter. He clamped his arms down at his sides in defense, but the setter just took hold of his wrists and held them firmly behind his back. This left his midriff wide open, and the third year took the chance to scribble his fingers across his belly. Hinata tried his best to hold back his laughter, but he exploded once Oikawa began circling his belly button with one finger. Unable to break free from his iron grip, he gave up fighting and simply writhed in place as he was tickled all over.

“Pppftblt, Oikawahahahaha!!”

“That’s my name! Wow, your arms are shaking. It’s so hard to get away when I’m holding you, isn’t it?”

Hinata shrieked in response and started to thrash even harder, still too weak to get out of his grasp. Oikawa was tickling a really sensitive spot, a squishy area right next to his belly button, and was so fllittering and soft that all he could do was giggle like a little baby.

“Oho, is this a bad spot?”

Unable to form words, Hinata just nodded as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. It was overwhelming, but it was giving him a rush like no other. He couldn’t stop smiling or laughing, and his stomach felt like a horde of butterflies were fluttering all around. Getting tickled by Oikawa was making him feel so giddy, it was so silly and ridiculous and embarrassing... and much more fun than he ever could have imagined.

“Awww, it's really bad, isn't it? Especially when I tickle it like this?”

The orange-haired player’s laughter reached a new octave when Oikawa scribbled the back of his nails on the same spot, but much more softly and at a quicker pace than he expected. It was almost more maddening than the harder tickles, which he would’ve preferred at this point over these teasy flutters. Keeping up his exploration, he hopped around from one side to the other to gauge his overall reactions. Whenever Hinata’s laughter grew in volume, he’d stay there until the spiker fell into silent laughter.

Finally, after who knows how long, he felt his senpai’s hand leave his body and release his wrists. He opened his eyes, out of breath and gasping for air, only to see Oikawa beaming down at him. His face was already flushed, and seeing that only made it redder.

“Alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll have to remember this, though!”

Oikawa handed him an ice cold bottle of water from the cooler next to the bench and waited until he finished drinking it all before speaking again. Hinata listened through his haggard breathing, now feeling a little embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

“Hey, shorty. Loosen up a little, will ya? We’re friends now, so you don't have to be so nervous around me.”

“Right!!”

Hinata felt his strong arm drape itself across his shoulder again and fought the urge to lean against his chest.

“Oh, and Hinata? I won't tell anyone, but I’m definitely going to tease you about this again.”

“What?!?”

“What.”

Oikawa smiled innocently, as if he hadn’t just tickled poor Hinata to death. He feigned ignorance for the next few minutes until Hinata finally gave up, full of steam and too fatigued to argue. He ran off to grab his backpack and athletic bag before meeting Oikawa at the exit. They shut off the lights and made their way home together, both players feeling warm and dizzy without quite understand why.

[ragingbookdragon]

I Don’t Think Now Is The Best Time!

A Haytham Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2,420 Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Death

Author’s Note: So this is kind of a prequel to the “Enemies To Lovers To Married” One-Shot I did a few days ago. Enjoy! -Thorne

“Why is it?!” she screeched as the wind and rain whipped around her, “that whenever you get involved in a mission you’re not supposed to be on, things go south?!”

Her eyes darted to his figure as he twisted, silver saber sinking into an enemy’s torso, and he countered, “There is no scientific backing to that claim, (Y/N)!”

She snorted and ducked down, narrowly avoiding the gun firing over her head as she thrust her sword out, taking her own opponent down. “Oh fuck off, Haytham! I can’t even count on twenty fingers and toes how many missions you’ve joined that’ve gone sideways!”

Before he could make a remark, a voice interrupted through the howling weather. “Less arguing! More fighting! If we don’t get back control of the ship, we’ll all be swimming with Davy Jones!” The two glanced towards the quarterdeck, watching as Shay parried a saber.

(Y/N) grinned and pulled her sword free, swinging at another assassin coming her way. “So what you’re telling me is that we’re in serious danger of dying, Shay?”

“Aye lass! Going down with the ship is a captain’s duty but I don’t aim to do it now!”

Whatever remark Haytham or she had was cut off as the assassin’s ship slammed against the port, sending her reeling, to the deck. The hit took all the breath from her lungs and she struggled to gain air as she fumbled for the saber that had fallen from her hands. Reaching out, she suddenly jerked back as an axe came down, biting into the deck, narrowly missing her hand. (Y/N) sucked in a breath and crawled backwards with her hands as she tried to avoid his swings. Her back met something hard and she took a look behind her, seeing the railing and the angry sea below her before turning her attention back to the smiling axe man.

She swallowed thickly, trying to unholster the flintlock at her side, but as he raised the axe, she realized her time had run out. Bracing for the hit, her eyes went wide as the man suddenly gasped, dropping down to his knees, and the sight of Haytham behind him almost made her cry with joy.

Shoving the man aside, he held out a hand and she took it, letting him yank her to her feet as he chastised, “Now is not the time to die, (Y/N)!”

A huff escaped her lips as he placed her sword in her hands. “It’s awfully fucking bold of you to assume I will ever die!”

He flashed her a smile, slashing downwards at a woman running his way. The two threw themselves back into the thick of fighting, but with every enemy they cut down, her hope seemed to dwindle. They appeared no closer to defeating the enemy, and the storm worsened with each passing second. Thousands of thoughts ran through her mind, and she suddenly looked to Haytham. She couldn’t claim a childhood friendship, but the year and a half that she’d served under him, through thick and thin, through hell and highwater, she’d seen him at his best just as much as she’d seen his worst, but in an instant, everything she’d ever felt for the man became clear.

(Y/N) reached out, calling, “Haytham! I need to tell you something!”

He grunted as he rolled out of the way of a sword. “It can’t wait until we’re safe?” She shook her head, thrusting her sword into the neck of an oncoming assassin. “I am extremely busy right now!”

(Y/N) slammed her boot down onto the deck, though it made little noise compared to the ruckus around them. “Haytham!” He drew his sword back and she grabbed him, yanking him to her. “I love you!” His steel eyes went wide, and she added, “I wouldn’t tell you this if I was certain I would live to see the light of day tomorrow!”

Haytham’s mouth opened and closed, floundering for words, until all he could say was, “You love me?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I know! I was shocked too!” He scowled. “How could someone as laidback as me love someone as tight-assed as you?” She looked at him. “But I do! I have since the day we met in the tavern! And whether or not you feel the same for me makes no difference!” She twirled them around, slamming the hilt of her saber into a temple before staring him in the eyes and declaring, “I would follow to the end of my days, even if today is my last.”

Haytham’s heart skipped a beat at her proclamation, and he breathed, “I love you too.”

(Y/N)’s face lit up. “Marry me!”

A laugh bubbled in her at the sight of his shocked features, and he yelled, “What?!”

“We know all there is to know about each other! Why court me and do things the proper way when we already know everything there is to know!”

“Because it’s improper! And now is not the best time!”

She huffed a laugh as they danced around one another, swords coming and going with each slash and thrust. “Now might be all we have!” (Y/N) gripped his forearm, voice raised but solemn as she said, “I’ve made my choice! What’s yours!” Steeled eyes searched hers and after a moment, he nodded. Suddenly, she turned to the quarterdeck, shouting, “Shay!” Haytham’s jaw dropped for the other man and she added, “Marry us!”

The Irish templar grunted as he stabbed a man. “I’m a little busy at the moment!”

The two glanced at each other, smiles toying their lips as they split, and Haytham slammed his sword hilt into someone’s jaw. “Cormac! Now!”

Shay growled, kicking an assassin down the steps before climbing the rails. “Fine then!” He jerked his sword down and bellowed, “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today!” A man came his way and with a well-placed kick to his chest, he went flying. “To nail your gizzards to the mast, you poxy cur!”

Haytham pulled her arm, sending her behind him as he yelled, “(Y/N) (L/N), do you take me as your husband!”

She grinned as she shoved an assassin over the rails. “I do!” She spun, pulling him backwards to slash the coming enemy. “Haytham Kenway, do you take me as your wife? In sickness and in health? With health being the less likely?”

He grinned. “I do!”

Shay, who’d been listening, offered a grin and shouted, “Then as Captain of The Morrigan, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss-” He was cut off as someone came running up the stairs, swinging wildly with their saber. Grunting, he blocked it, sending back his own strike. “You may kiss-” Still the enemy persisted, and Shay growled as he whipped out his flintlock and fired a single shot. “Just kiss damnit!”

(Y/N) felt Haytham’s grip on her arm and she let him pull her in. Their lips met and for a moment, the world around them faded, the fighting, the storm, every last nuisance dwindled into embers as they sealed their union.

She pulled away and looked at him, a smile growing across her face, as was his. “I love you, Haytham Kenway.”

He nodded, so sure of himself as he breathed, “I love you, (Y/N) Kenway.” A laugh left her, and they split once more, but this time she felt hopeful for the future.

“If the two of you are finished, there’s still the enemy ship to defeat and the storm to get out of!” The two laughed as Shay yelled at them, and they split once more, (Y/N) going starboard, Haytham to port.

They swung with a vicious precision, taking down enemy after enemy, and soon, the assassins began retreating back to their ship, but the Morrigan’s sailors were just as vicious as (Y/N) and he were, following them over.

He yanked his sword back from the gut of the assassin, grunting as leapt out of the way of another blade. It didn’t feel real, the few moments they shared, but as sure as the screech of steel against steel was, it told him they were real. They’d have to have a real ceremony once they got back to New York, and as he looked over to tell her the idea, his heart leapt into his throat at the sight.

(Y/N) cradled her abdomen with one hand, but he could see the crimson creeping through the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and anger as she raised her sword to block an axe coming her way. She gasped at the strength of the blow, sword arm taking the brute force, and dropped her blade. Haytham’s feet moved underneath him, carrying him to her, but before he could get there, the axe wielder swung his free arm, smacking her across the chest. Her jaw dropped but no sound escaped her other than a pained gasp as she hit the railing, hands clenching the ends of the each side to keep her from falling backwards through the opening.

The enemy raised his axe again and she shoved a hand out, hidden blade engaging into his chest. The axe fell and (Y/N) yanked her hand back and pulled him past her to go over the edge. Haytham appeared in her vision, and she breathed a sigh of relief despite her pain; he smiled, but it dropped when something latched onto the back of her shirt and tugged. She jerked backwards and lost her balance, feet seeming to come out from beneath her.

Her eyes went wide, and she met Haytham’s gaze. He reached for her and her him. “(Y/N)!” His fingers brushed hers, but it wasn’t enough. She sent a heartsick smile his way and fell. A scream tore through Haytham’s throat and he stood over the edge, staring into the deep where she’d gone. “(Y/N)!”

Haytham.

Her voice was in his ears.

Haytham.

She was just there.

Haytham.

How did this happen? Why couldn’t he—

Haytham!

He jolted awake, eyes wide as he sat up straight. His breath came in ragged pants, like he’d breached the surface of the water, and he felt pressure on his shoulders. Someone was holding onto them and he struggled. “Haytham, it’s okay! relax!” Hands gripped his face, turning it towards them. “Haytham, relax.”

Finally, his eyes focused on her in front of him. “(Y/N)?” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder would break whatever dream this was.

She nodded, running her thumbs across his face. “That’s the name my mother gave me when I popped out of her.” A frown crossed her lips. “You’ve been wearing it out.”

Though a fond smile crossed his lips, tears filled his eyes and a watery laugh bubbled from him. He gripped her wrists. “You’re here.”

(Y/N) felt her brows furrow. “Yeah, I’m here.” She pulled away and grabbed a rag from off the nightstand. “You were yelling for me in your sleep.” She pressed it to his forehead, dabbing the sweat. “Bad dream?”

Haytham watched her and through a pained voice, he said, “We were on the Morrigan during a battle…you…you fell over.” A sorrowful look crossed her face, and he took her hand, squeezing it. “I couldn’t get to you in time.” Tears filled his eyes once more and he looked down. “It was my fault.”

She laid the rag on the stand and gripped his chin, making him look at her. “Haytham, I’m right here.” She smiled. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think you can get rid of me that quick. I’m not going anywhere.”

He couldn’t seem to speak for a few moments, but a warm smile eventually crossed his lips. “I love you.” It seemed to come out on its own, but instead of the shock he expected, (Y/N) huffed and cupped his cheek.

“I love you too, Haytham.”

“You…you do?”

“We did get married during the last sea battle.”

His brows furrowed and he finally realized exactly where they were. “Are we…on the Morrigan?”

(Y/N) nodded. “You took a stab to the stomach during the fight and passed out.” She busied herself checking the wound. “You’ve been in and out of a fevered sleep since then.”

Haytham’s jaw went slack. So, it hadn’t been her he imagined being stabbed…it was himself.

“Some few days, maybe a week you’ve been out. We pulled into New York two days ago.” (Y/N) dipped her fingers into the wrap, listening as he hissed. “Shay didn’t think it safe enough to have you moved to a doctor’s clinic nor Fort Arsenal, so we kept you here and had a doctor see to you.” She met his eyes. “We’ve all been worried about you.”

Hundreds of thoughts spun around, but all he managed to blurt out was, “We’re married?”

(Y/N) blinked. “I don’t know if I should treat you like a patient or if I should treat you like Shay and call you a piss-ant. Yes, Haytham, we got married during the naval fight.” She watched him. “You don’t remember any dramatic confessions from both parties? Commanding a snappy captain to marry us? Him acting like a disgruntled pirate? Seriously, I’ve never heard the words, ‘poxy cur’ come out of that fuckers mouth before.” Haytham’s gaped like a fish and she sighed. “Figures I declare my love, get married, and my husband doesn’t remember.” (Y/N) looked out the window. “What the fuck did I do in my past life? Kill a holy nun?”

A bark of laughter turned her attention back to Haytham. He raised a hand to his eyes and fell to pieces. She couldn’t help but laugh with him, and when they calmed, he looked to her and took her hand. “It’ll come back to me soon enough.”

(Y/N) huffed. “It sure as shit better.” She stared into his eyes. “You look like a hot-mess.” A snort sounded from her. “Like me and Shay that time we got shit-faced in Portugal and ended up at a brothel.”

He scoffed. “That’s not very polite to say.”

“I mean this is me we’re talking about. Would you rather me go around grinning like the sun’s shining out my ass?”

Haytham met her gaze. “No.” He smiled. “Because you wouldn’t be the lovely (Y/N) Kenway if you were.”

She huffed. “Cheesy fucker.”

They drifted towards one another when the door to the captain’s cabin slammed to the wall and someone yelled, “Oi! The Grandmaster is—oh shite, sorry!”

[seeds-and-sins]

That One Woman

Pairing: Pagan Min / Reader

Rating: T (Strong language, violence, sexual undertones)

Description: Pagan Min saves you from the resistance, and you end up becoming his assistant, among other things...

    Day one was like a roller coaster for you. You distinctly remember sipping from a cup of coffee, calmly meditating to yourself, thankful to be alive; when Pagan barged into the dining room and started making demands. The first demands had almost everything to do with what you were wearing...

"Oh Darling, you need to get out of those rags immediately. I don't need my assistant looking like trash. Have you ever heard of perfume? Yes? You need it." He insisted you soak in the bath for a bit, get your hair done, nails painted, you had never felt so feminine before in your life. Of course he arranged everything, had his best designer working on your wardrobe in the meantime. Your king's kindness had no limits it seemed. All the while, he paraded you around and lectured you on taking better care of yourself, "treating yourself" as he worded it. While before you never really had the money to do so, he made every effort to ensure that you knew that whatever you wanted was given to you immediately. After the work was done and you had left your quarters feeling ever so nourished and tender, he put you to work immediately. 

"I need you to schedule a meeting with Paul for three this afternoon..." You followed closely behind him in stride, scribbling his words onto a tiny notepad he had procured for you earlier. "Make sure the kitchen cooks his favorite; steak and mushrooms, grilled onions, that special sauce-I don't fucking know what-with a side of mashed potatoes, broccoli, and biscuits..." You were already out of breath, he was a fast walker. As he spoke it was almost like he had taken you around the entirety of the mansion that was his home, before finally entering his bedroom, where his designer waited patiently for his daily fitting. "Oh, and try everything before it leaves, last time they overcooked the broccoli, and I was not pleased." You gulped, never having ever tasted for someone before, never having ever done anything like this before. In fact, you probably were the most under qualified person for this job and yet he picked you. Why?

"Yes, Sir." He made a noise of acknowledgement as his designer tugged on the sleeves of a bright yellow suit jacket over Pagan's outstretched arms.

"Also, I almost forgot, do check in with Yuma about the security issue we've been having in the west. She promised me a direct report by noon and its already ten, I do not see what's taking her so long."

"Yes, Sir." You waited another moment as he critiqued his appearance in the long sided mirror, posing, cocking his head from side to side, testing the look. You were wondering if he was going to say anything else, and when he didn't, you took that as your sign to leave and complete the tasks he had assigned to you.

"Oh, and dear?" You glanced over your shoulder curiously, he snorted. "Could you also find me a new designer..." His eyes then focused harshly down onto the poor man who had created the suit jacket. Pagan angrily started to rip the thing off, the mustard fabric floating down to the ground as the stitches were yanked out. "I am trying to look like a king, not a fucking banana!"

"Y-Yes, Sir." You stuttered out, exiting the room as swiftly as you could to avoid Pagan's wrath. 

You wondered if the same wrath would ever be afforded to you. However, as time went on, as you soon became accustomed to his temper, his demands, the routines of his nation, he never quite yelled at you. Ever. One time you had made a mistake, the whole time wondering if he would at least make your death quick. At the very most, he sent you off with a light tap on the wrist and a warning, knowing you wouldn't be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. Granted the mistake had everything to do with something as simple as how he liked his coffee, but he had killed people for far less. 

   In fact, what was once a stressful job at first, became plain fun. In the beginning, you didn't really have much of a choice but to become Pagan's assistant, but now you sat across from him, handling all of his important agenda, of your own free will. Not to mention, the gifts, he would surprise you with them almost every other day. You were practically spoiled under his supervision, sometimes even being allowed to sleep in if you had done your job well enough the day before. You didn't know why people hated your king, he was perfect in every way, you would worship the ground he walked upon if he allowed you to. Perhaps you were biased in the sense that if it hadn't been for him, your rags to riches fantasy never would have come true. 

   You had your own room, all brand new clothes, new shoes, all the food you could ever ask for, an entire library that he had dedicated to your hobby of reading, and an office that was the same size as your old shanty. Of course, with all the pearl earrings, luxurious bed spreads, the wonderful view, room service, security at every corner, why would you ever want to bite the hand that fed you? Of course, you would die for Pagan Min, because surely he had given you such a great life in comparison to your previous one, you'd gladly give your life for him. 

   And sometimes you wondered, if that was your only purpose, to make sure his affairs were in order and to make sure his food wasn't poisoned. It made sense, your undying loyalty didn't come cheap it seemed and you hadn't even realized it. These thoughts, these wonders, stemmed from the confusion that began this whole mess. Why did he pick you? A young nobody, he could have easily let you die that day. You were always too afraid to ask him the question though. You didn't want to sound ungrateful in your curiosity. You would sit across the expanse of mahogany wood as he shuffled through important papers and made signatures. Every so often sliding them across the table so you could organize them into the appropriate file.

  It was hard no to stare at him, admire everything that was Min. That fluffy blonde patch of hair that sat on his head, how the strands flickered out in front of his reading glasses. The curve of the collar on his button up, how it lead down to reveal those few undone buttons at the top of his long sleeved shirt. His sleeves rolled up, taut to the crease of his arm, slender fingers sliding between slabs of thin white paper. Every now and again, those fingers would reach up to catch the tip of his tongue, and she would find herself licking her lips with desire, imagining that tongue on her own fingers. 

"Darling?" 

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do you have that paperwork on that shipment from Rook Islands by any chance?" You steadily weeded through the files, carefully removing the proper papers. You stood to step around the table and carry them to him. He didn't lift his head as he held his hand out, accepting the papers in his grasp. You moved to go back to your seat before he stopped you with the continuation of his words. "Volker sent me a letter again, the annoying twat, something about a mistake with the merchandise. You know anything about this?" He finally met your gaze, those glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose as he considered you. You searched your mind for an answer, truly wondering if you had made a mistake, or perhaps you had missed one of Volker's mistakes. You shook your head, twiddling with your thumbs out in front of you. 

"Not that I know of, Sir." 

"Hmmm," He crowned his fingers against his lips, sitting back in his seat, elbows on the armrest. "Well, you might as well have a look for yourself, might jog your memory."

"Of course, Sir." He gestured for you to come to him, sliding his chair back to give you room. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he waved for you keep going.

"You can take a seat, if you will." You felt your breath hitch as you lowered your bottom down onto Pagan's lap. Your whole body engulfed in his warmth as he scooted forward and his arms snaked around your waist to bring forth the paper work again. His chin rested on your shoulder, the embrace extremely close, his strong cologne floating into your nostrils. His finger pointed at the discussed shipment receipts and the letter from Volker. You tried to focus on the words as you skimmed over them in your mind, but Pagan's close proximity to you and the very noticeable lump pressing against your backside was all the more distracting. 

"U-Um..." You cleared your throat, finding yourself leaning back into his chest. He shifted his legs further apart and you couldn't hide the gasp as the hard lump was a lot more accentuated against the curve of your ass in this suddenly all too short pencil skirt.

"Yes, darling?" He whispered huskily into your ear, your entire body feeling overwhelmed by everything Pagan.

"I think everything is in order, Sir." You finally were able to form a coherent sentence surprised at yourself for being capable of doing so. 

"I agree..." You inhaled sharply, his lips barely grazed the spot below your ear drum, along your throat. "I believe you deserve a reward for your hard work, right, my dear?" Yes, a reward, please. You wanted to beg on your knees, beg him for it all. The one thing he never gave you, never gifted you, praised you with. He chuckled, hands suddenly came to your waist and he scooted the chair back again. He forced you to stand with him and then he was gently turning you to face him. "I am sure you must be confused..." And you were, being Pagan's assistant meant that you knew almost everything about his life. One of those things was his overactive sexual exploits, people, men and women alike, were constantly going in and out of his room. "I swing for both teams, Darling, and I have been swinging for you for quite some time." While one hand resided on your waist still, caressing up and down over the fabric of your clothes, the other was now propped on the edge of the table and he came closer. "You must understand, this doesn't have to define our relationship if we don't want it to, but the tension is suffocating. I would like to just finally have my cake and eat it too..." His eyes centered expectantly on you, for a response, when he added. "All of it."

"B-But, S-Sir, I just don't understand." 

"Ask your questions, but my patience is thinning, and..." He almost growled the words that followed, eyes scanning you from head to toe as he pressed his crotch to yours and you gasped. "I might not be able to contain myself much longer."

"Why, me?" You didn't think you could do it, but you did. And this whole journey with Pagan has been a game of figuring out what you could do. Your confidence had surpassed the highest summit in the world, you felt like you could jump into a volcano and still come to tell the tale, like you could fly into space and catch the nearest star. It was all because of Pagan, you owed so much to the man, and all he ever did was give to you.

"You must be joking?" He giggled deeply, like there was some inside joke that you couldn't ever know, but he was going to tell you the joke anyways. "Darling, few know there was only ever one woman for me..." He cupped your cheek, and the other came to sink into the strands of your hair. "Until I met you that is."

Return to Prompts

[candychronicles]

trust // s. todoroki

A/N: this is like almost two months late because i truly suck but this is my piece of the trade fic for @burnedbyshoto​ !!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,711

WARNINGS: angst, shower sex, overwhelming emotions, mention of blood

SYNOPSIS: one simple sentence can change everything in the relationship. after days of not talking, can you two reconcile?

“i don’t know what you expect me to do. quit my job, my life as a pro-hero? nothing is more important than that, not even you.”

you didn’t know why those few words hit you so hard, but they did. you knew Shouto was dedicated to his work, dedicated to saving people, to being everything his father wasn’t and more, but it still stung, dug a hole deep into your chest and squeezed your heart until there was only pulp and mush left. 

the conversation started out as something simple. you two worked well together, like an oiled machine. this meant any issue, big or small, was usually resolved with a conversation. things got messy sometimes, like it did in any relationship, as Shouto was sometimes quick to judge and you often were clingy, but it was never enough to cause a real problem. today, however, turned into an absolute nightmare.

you had casually brought up date night, something which hadn’t been done in awhile due to busy and conflicting schedules, when things got heated. he didn’t understand why you were so concerned about going to see a movie, going to get dinner, to an amusement park, for a walk in the woods, or whatever other ridiculous idea that was thrown out of your mouth. tensions were high at work, villains were getting cocky and people’s lives were at risk. taking time off was something that just couldn’t be done at the moment.

you tried to be understanding, you really did. he was someone who was working his ass off to make the world a better place. his mental state and overall being from childhood to now was a tremendous improvement. overall, Shouto was working hard to make himself into someone he wanted to be. you also understood how important his work was to him, how hard he worked to get to where he was today and how everything from his past, such as his home life and every bad thing that happened at UA high, was a constant reminder for him to keep fighting.

sometimes, though, you can’t help feeling the way you’re feeling, and things come out of your mouth that should never be said.

“sometimes i wish you weren’t a pro hero.”

that one simple comment was meant to only convey a sense of frustration at the lack of personal time you two had together, but instead, it spiraled out of control into an issue of him acting as if you were accusing him of not caring about you and you getting increasingly frustrated over the fact that you did not want this to escalate anymore than it already had.

finally, those words were spoken, and you were left, sitting on your once shared bed as he slept on the couch, staring blankly into the darkness as you tried to wrap your head around what was going on. you wanted to speak to him, apologize for the way things had gone down and clarify your frustrations, but at the same time, you knew his mental state wouldn’t allow him to listen to you or your feelings rationally. so you sat, mulling over your words and feeling your heart continue to disintegrate.

for days, Shouto used the couch for sleep, showering and getting ready at work, eating out and coming home late. you knew he was frustrated as well over the situation, but after days of not talking, you were getting worried that there was nothing that could be said or done to fix the hole that was slowly tearing the fabric of your love apart.

it was only while you were in the middle of a shower, late at night, that things were finally resolved. you had heard the door slam and knew he was home, but didn’t think anything of it at the time. only when your bathroom door was whipped open did you get concerned, jumping at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts.

words were not spoken between the two of you, but you could feel something had shifted in him, and he was finally ready to work things out. clothes were stripped and haphazardly thrown on the floor, door gently slid open and a warm body slid behind yours. you could feel the tension and anxiety radiating off of him in waves and you continued to wait for his response, washing your hair in the process.

finally, he let out a sigh and began helping you, using his hands to lather the suds into your hair.

“i’m sorry. it took me a bit of time to understand what you were trying to say. you just want to spend time with me, and you do not actually wish that i was not a pro-hero, but rather that my job did not take up so much of my time,” he started, “i do want to spend more time with you too, so i have been working late. i was able to score the next three days off, no questions asked. we can do whatever you want.”

you opened and closed your mouth but no words were able to be formed. you instead turned around, letting the water cascade over your head and quickly scrubbed the foam out of your hair, reaching up to plant a searing kiss to your lovers lips, tasting the water mixed with the delicious flavor of him.

he responded without hesitation, understanding this strange love language more than he did words. he trusted you, trusted that when you kissed him it meant you loved him, trusted that when you showed yourself bare that you wanted him to make you feel good and wanted to make him feel good. he trusted you with every fiber in his being, and he was going to show you how much he really loved you.

there was no time to take you to the bedroom. there was no time to kiss you on every inch of your body and murmur whispers of praise in your ear. there would be time for proper worship over the next couple of days but today, right now, he needed you. he needed to feel you, needed to fill you, needed to make sure that you were here and real and still his, that nothing bad had happened while you two were avoiding each other and that he could feel a little more normal again.

he murmured a quiet command to jump against your lips, and you did, bracing yourself on his broad shoulders, his hands firmly under your ass. the coolness of the tile against your back as he pushed you against it elicited a hiss but was quickly replaced with a moan when his lips attached themselves to your neck, nipping and sucking in all the right places.

he pulled away, a look of pure desperation and need in his eyes which surely mirrored your own. you didn’t need to talk, not yet. he had already apologized, and you could spend the rest of the night showing and telling your own regrets of the situation, but in the moment, you were feeling as if your whole body was on fire despite the tile and cooling water. you had spent long enough without him, long enough thinking of what you had said and done, and none of it mattered now that you were back in his arms.

Shouto repositioned himself, bracing you in one arm as he slowly used his other hand to guide himself into your waiting hole, thoroughly wet from both the water and your own juices. he entered with little resistance, arms flexing out of sheer instinct, the feeling of your warm cavern overwhelming to his sense. a steady pace was set, his cock thrusting inside of you with need and longing.

his eyes met yours once more, foreheads leaning forward and pressing together, breathes mingling as you both lost yourselves in the feelings of one another. wet squelching sounds echoed throughout the bathroom, soft pants and moans brushing past your ears.

he continued to pound in and out of you mercilessly, and you clenched around him, fitting so nice and snug around his cock. his deft fingers brushed over your clit and then began rubbing precise yet harsh circles into it, signaling that he was close himself. you felt your own high building, a heavy burning sensation deep inside of you, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, pressing your lips to his intensely, too overwhelmed and just wanting to feel more of him.

you came with a sob, squeezing, yourself tightly around his whole body, biting down on his lip, drawing the tangy metallic liquid out and into your mouth. you felt his hips stutter and he came with his own grunt, pulling your body even more tightly to his own, feeling his dick twitch and the sticky liquid filling you up.

you both sat there, not wanting to do anything except bask in the sensation of each other. carefully, he pulled out and set you back on your feet, continuing to hold you close to his body. you placed your head directly onto his chest, hearing his heartbeat loud and strong. you were slowly returning to your senses, feeling the warm liquid flow out of your cunt and down your legs, the warmth of Shouto’s body and the now freezing water. you blindly reached out and slammed your palm against the handle, effectively shutting it off, shivering.

“let’s get you into bed, you’re freezing,” he chided, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, opening the door and stepping out, throwing a fluffy towel your way.

you stepped out after him, wrapping the fabric around your body, smiling softly.

“tomorrow, let me show you how sorry i am but tonight, lets go to sleep yeah?” you asked, opening the door and not waiting for an answer, moving towards the bed and throwing yourself on top of the sheets, utterly exhausted by the sex, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

you were sure there would be a conversation and much making up to do but you knew you two would be okay and right now, you were in love, surrounded by downy blankets and the warm body of your boyfriend pulling you tightly against him.

TAGS: @redbeanteax​ @softforshigi

[spinchip]

Love Like This

A/N: Bring Echo home please. 1.2k words.

Echo has never known love like this.

Fingers trail his jaw gently, tilting his head to the side, and Zane runs a cloth over his face in tight circles. The white towel is turning a rusty brown and fat blotches of red, like blood almost, stain the corners. He is being as soft as possible, fingertip trailing along the worst of the rust to inspect it, his mouth tightening into an unhappy line when his nails catch on patches of damage that's grown thick with neglect. Echo has rarely been treated so delicately, each touch warm and kind, and when his brother turns away to get a new cloth he rests his palm against the mechanics in his neck in a way that leaves him aching. Touch-starved his mind supplies, now that he’s connected to the internet. No one has ever loved him enough to hold him.

“You’re angry.” He observes in the cloying silence.

“Yes.” Zane says stiffly, refusing to look him in the eye, scrutinizing a stubborn patch of rust on the curve of his jaw, “I am not angry with you.”

“I know.” Echo says, and that is also a love he has never experienced- that deeply protective fury, the way Zane’s voice had cracked so sharply when his friends had revealed that they’d left him behind, how he wouldn’t even let them in the room to help repair him. “...I’ve hurt your trust in your friends.”

“No.” Blue eyes snap to meet his, and they’re brighter than the sunniest, most cloudless sky, “They hurt it themselves. They should have told me,” His expression grows darker, “You did not deserve to be left behind.”

Echo doesn’t know what to say to that, feeling suddenly too exposed. The little room they’re holed up in looks like a nurses office, maybe, and Echos sitting on this little raised cot, legs dangling over the side. Zane is sitting on a rolling stoll between his knees, all his attention focused on Echo- no one has ever looked at him like Zane looks at him, when the anger wanes- there’s the way he crinkles his eyes like Echo is the best thing since sliced bread. Little brother, Zane had called him, standing still half in the stairwell back in the lighthouse with this watery shock that left tears in his eyes. He’d held him, then, unflinching from how his imperfections left ugly streaks of pale yellow across his white uniform. He had felt small, next to him, all shiny and new.

Father had built him to fill some hole in his chest, old and lonely and missing someone, and when Echo was too unique, he’d shut him down.

Zane moves on to his hands, gently tugging them apart from where he’d had them clutched together. He passes a wire brush over the worst of it, a patch spanning a good portion of his wrist that made it lock up sometimes. Despite the tension in his shoulders and the way he blinks, as if willing away tears, Zane is never rough with him, and he never rushes. Each movement is purposeful and steady, he will take care of him if no one else will.

“What do you like to do, Echo?” Zane asks, glancing up at him before going back to his work.

He hums a little bit, “I do not know.”

Zanes hands falters for a second, pausing, “You don’t know?”

“There was not much to do, trapped in that lighthouse.” There is no need to pad the truth with pleasantries, so he says it outright, “All I could do was wait for Father to return.”

Carefully, Zane sets aside the cloth and the brush, and then he stands and hugs Echo again. As if that was what he was waiting for, Echo finds himself clinging to him, twisting his fingers in the fabric of his button up so hard he threatens to tear right through it. Zane allows him to hide his face against his chest, drawing his fingernails through the hair at the base of his neck in a soothing gesture. The temperature in the room has dropped, but he doesn’t mind.

When his brother pulls away, he cups Echos face and sweeps away tears he didn’t realize he was crying, “I’m sorry you were alone for so long.” He hugs him again, and Echo finds his wrist moves much easier now, “I would have taken you with us, If I had known.”

“I was not alone. I had Tai-D.” Echo offers weakly as Zane pulls away, and he wants to chase the contact, he wants to be held.

Zane picks up the cloth once more, sitting down he goes back to clearing away the signs of neglect, “...And Jay and Nya.” he notes, almost to himself.

“I do not remember that too well.” Echo admits, “Bits and pieces. I’m not angry with them.”

His brother purposefully stays quiet, expression twisting before he sighs deeply. Echo watches the rust vanish bit by bit, “What do you like to do, Zane?” The name felt so foreign in his mouth despite the fact it was his, too, not that long ago.

“I like to cook.” He looks at Echo with a critical eye, “Are you able to taste things?”

“Yes. but I have not tried much.” Just different kinds of teas, really.

“I will cook for you tonight. A welcome home dinner.” Zane decides with a nod, a faraway look in his eyes as he evaluates the best dinner to make.

Echo can’t think past that word, trying to wrap his head around it, “Home?” He asks finally, wincing at how quiet he’d become, how hesitant.

Zane gazes up at him, expression flashing too quickly for Echo to catch any of them. He settles on uncertainty, as he sets his tools aside once more, rubbing at his hands nervously as if worried Echo will turn him down, “...Yes, that is… if you want to stay here… You have a place.” he’s unsatisfied with that, staring at a spot on the wall and putting his words in proper order.

He reaches out and clasps Echo’s hands, looking up at him seriously, “For a long while, I had no home, and I thought I had found one at the Monastery with Sensei Wu and the others. When the Monastery burned down, I believed that I had lost the only home I had ever known… but I didn’t. My home was not burned with the fire, but preserved in my friends and family. You have a place here.” he lets go of Echos hand to thump his fist against his chest, where his heart would be, “If you choose to stay or if you choose to go, this is your home.”

The lighthouse had been no home, Echo knew that, had even reconciled that he’d never know what it felt like to belong somewhere, wholly and completely. When Zane had held him for the first time, standing on the highest floor of that prison, Echo had known truly how empty his life had been, slotting into his arm like he was made to fit there. He wanted that, to belong, more than he thought.

Echo has never known love like this. He feels like he’s been left floundering more than once during all this, unequipped with the emotional experience to bear it all, overwhelmed with how unconditional it all was. There are no expectations behind Zanes offer, there is no way for Echo to fail in his eyes, there is no catch.

“A welcome home dinner...” He says with a large smile, struggling to keep his voice even, “I would like that.”

Zane's grin matches his own.