#i see at least one collared dove almost every day what are you on about

[useless-englandfacts]

why do people in the uk who make those nostalgia bait videos act like we don’t have collared doves any more?

[levmada]

sequel to this post

[@dressycobra7 :3]

➥ c/w: gn!reader, some angst, oral (m!receiving), praise, subby Levi canonverse, established relationship, handjob, finger sucking?, turned into smut somehow

➥ wc: 1.8k

The boy appeared to you and Levi later to apologize profusely like that was the reason he'd been born. You didn't have the heart to turn him away, and filed inside the small recovery room behind him, with its half-exposed brick walls. The curtains were shut, but enough light penetrated. Levi looked too tired to stop him, and it took an arduous amount of time to get through, but his answer was short, to the effect of, If you're not court-marshaled, don't do it again. A slightly upper angle and I would've bled out. Then where would we be?

You're still thinking about that as you stock the closet with some of his clothes. Mandatory bedrest for at least a week, and after that, take it slow. Levi practically shriveled up when someone said 'wheelchair', and he preferred if hospital germs didn't get into his quarters.

You'll have his squad up there every day doing routine cleaning, "trouble" which Levi didn't need to exert his mind over. He's busy being stubborn.

You turn around when you hear porcelain clink. He's leaned over the dresser next to the bed, trying to take the tea.

"Levi," you scold.

"We don't need Hange to tell me my arms are in fine working condition," he grumbles, leaning back as you come over.

He's right, though. No one would even notice any arm wound because the bandages and plaster wrapping around his lower leg are bordering-on gaudy. It's propped up on a fat pillow, also white, the same as his soft-looking boxers and collared shirt (of which many buttons hang loose). In the glowing late afternoon, he looks ethereal, not quite of-this-world. A dove which is angry and stubborn and trapped.

"Still," you say quietly.

"I'm fine... I don't need anything."

Mikasa and Sasha had picked flowers, which you set in a watered glass jar atop the dresser. White again.

You watch him sip, and go over when he's done, laid propped up against pillows. A wooden bench at the side; you sat for hours while he slept through the day (the whole incident happened this morning). You sit on it now.

"I know... But why not want?" you repeat, quietly looking down at your hands.

"Who are we to want anything?"

You sharply look. "Why are you talking like this?"

He just watches you, shrewdly, but with a weakness not indicative of him. It might be exhaustion talking...

"We could always die. Titans could get in—"

"I'd kill them."

"Not like this..."

You said the wrong thing—the wrongest thing. His lips press into a thin line, barely-concealed contempt and clean daggers for eyes. The way he looks, like he believes if he tensed up enough, then he'd turn invisible and leave this argument in the dust.

You gesture slightly. "Because I would protect you. Even if I wasn't one of your comrades, or a soldier."

His lip twists in a unique disgust, which is the most you can see, his head turned towards the wall. Over his stomach, his hand tightens into a fist. "If you weren't, you'd die. Then I'd be dead anyway."

You swallow. You want to yell, and cry.

"I don't want that, either way. You didn't deserve to... see me like that. That seems to be why I'm talking like this."

The anger has left him. Delicately, you stand and seat yourself on the edge of the bed by his waist. "I've seen you be lots of things. 'Weak' is okay too. And I'm okay with seeing you like that as many time as I must, which is once so far."

He scoffs softly through his nose.

You lean forward more, and walk your fingers through his hair. Blacker than night, soft. There's a little piece you tuck behind his ear. His eyes flutter, letting out a deep breath. You can almost see the goosebumps.

"I know we'll die, and I know we belong to something much bigger, but can't I love you anyway?"

His breathing hitches a little, and his eyes open. It's a wonder what he's thinking, if he's even thinking about it, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Do whatever you want. I'm fine, if it's possible I can be with you."

It's your heart's turn to flutter, and just as soon, lean over awkwardly, your head resting on his chest and your arms around him (at least as much as they can be). You hear his heartbeat. The slowing, smooth rhythm of his choppy breathing carrying your upper half. His arm slips around your waist, content to rest his lips in your hair. As the time passes, he's more and more comfortable to hold you to tame the fear his anger betrayed. By that time, your arm's fallen asleep; you rub his side.

As tempting as it is to go down to the mess crowded for dinner, and contend with questions, you stay, just appreciating existing next to him.

"Your back," he mutters. You've been bent over a while.

"Mm." He's officially being ignored.

His hand slips over yours on his side, stopping you. His face doesn't give anything away, maybe purposefully so, and so you smile.

Leaning up, a fond kiss to his cheek. "You're cute when you make that face. Is your leg feeling okay?"

He clicks his tongue mildly with his head turned out, just showing you his cheek and one blue-grey eye. "'m fine," he says quietly.

Curious eyes search. Maybe he's downplaying something, but not lying. With nothing you'd rather do, you kiss down his jaw now, to the tender, pale column of his neck. His chest lifts suddenly against yours.

His question sounds like an afterthought. "What're you doing?"

"'m loving you," you lift your lips to say. (A little embarrassing to say out loud.)

"Yeah." His lips are still in your hair, but are stirring.

You remember he has your hand when he starts bringing them down. All across your upper half, you feel him breathing, and it's a little deeper.

You switch sides, putting you at an awkward angle to kiss him. He starts to move over towards the wall, but you stop him with a firm hum fast enough, and sit up. No walking, Moblit had told him firmly. What you kind of wish he'd said now is no moving his legs. For now you ignore it pushing snugly against the front of his boxers, but there's a wisp of a giggle in your chest.

You shift the pillow carefully, and he follows, until there's enough room for you there beside him. The mattress is only half-decent, but it's warm from his body.

He looks annoyed that you're smirking, if only he could come off the slightest bit intimidating blushing so hard like this. Pink warmth creeps down his neck and disappears beneath his open, rumpled collar.

"Tch." He just captures the nape of your neck and pulls your lips against his—a little slowly that comes with tiredness, but that much more passionately.

While you play with his lips, giving him away to you, your palm roams between his thighs. You pause there. Right as he shivers with his lip trapped between your teeth, you pull away and leer over him. "Don't move, baby. Move and I'll stop."

His eyes narrow in a bratty display.

"I mean it." You smile. "Even a touch" You stroke through his clothes slow and firm, immediately bringing a dreaming-like quality to his eyes. He almost can't look at you, especially as he huffs and it throbs under you.

"Baby?" You lick your thumb.

"I won't move." He huffs again, harsher this time. "Ugh, I won't fucking move, but you can't just—"

Your free hand, your thumb, falls against his jaw and stops his soft lips from flapping, so now a whole new quality of lust emerges in his expression. You're freeing his cock from his shorts as he instantly takes you in, so soft and sweet and giving. The heat that immediately consumes your thumb is melting, almost too intense to handle.

"Good boy, letting me."

His eyes flutter as you find where wetness has drooled from the tip of his stiff cock, spreading it around in your palm. It's easy to hold him, how he was made for you, and even easier to touch him to attract his hips, and the beginning of whispered whines he always always tries to suppress.

He hasn't forgotten, though. At the moment you send him a warning look, he relaxes, and his eyes are closed. You didn't notice him take hold of your wrist, holding just to hold, and gripping the front of his shirt with the other hand, since you're not close enough.

"Good boy," you murmur again. A moan vibrates round your thumb, his cock straining in your fist. "That's my good boy..."

It seems all the squirming he doesn't do has to go towards suckling and nipping your thumb instead. You watch his brows furrowed in deep focus as you build up your firm strokes. It's getting just as wet. He can't last.

You smile to yourself as your pumps rise to his tip, firm but quick flicks of your wrist. His back bows against the bed, the moan in his throat breaking apart into a whine. That aside, he stays perfectly still, so you let it slide.

"Does it feel that good when I touch you? Going to come, sweetheart?"

"Mm," his voice comes firm and tightly-wound. His eyes open into slight slits, see you watching shamelessly, and shut again. "Mm!"

Just as he throbs and tenses up. You bend over gripping down low, abruptly tearing your hand away from his mouth to sink his cock inside yours; pinning his hips, rubbing his heavy balls in your grasp.

"F-Fuck, fuckfuck!" He takes sudden, almost too-tight hold of your hair, gasping, and tearing the sheet, and shuddering. He moans all through it, broken whispers of your name, almost hummed at the top of his throat at the quietest, and always eagerly throbbing in the hot suction of your mouth. You take everything in deep swallows.

When finally, his hips are threatening to squirm to shy away and his cock softening, you pull off. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as he melts into the sheets. He has half of his bright red face hiding under his arm, catching his breath.

"Fuck, I don't know how you expected me to stay still. Come here." He lowers his arm.

"For the mess." You smile sweetly.

"Come here."

"You're not doing anything." But you do, and let him give you a kiss. He looks extremely unhappy about that, but for once, it looks like he'll listen when you say.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[skylarstark4826]

He walked out of the remains of the castle bleeding and broken, like many others. Unlike them, however, he was marked by Fenrir Greyback. The crescent shaped scar on the back of Ron's leg burned for days; and like Harry's lightning bolt, it called to its maker and connected them in a way that no one but Harry could fully understand. The man in him wondered what would have been different if he hadn't fought Fenrir with Neville, while the wolf in him knew he was better for it.

.o0o.

The first full moon after the battle Ron paced his room in the Burrow uneasily. Percy and Bill, who'd stayed in town to attend the many funerals, stood guard to keep Ron inside. Charlie took to the sky on his broom to watch for any sign of the werewolf prowling about. Everyone was sure Fenrir was going to come back for Ron, but no one knew why.

Unbeknownst to anyone, except Ron, Fenrir had found the Burrow that night. He circled the home for hours waiting for an opportunity to get to the boy. Ron felt the pull to go to the werewolf but couldn't get out of his room. Finally, at dawn, he was able to rest. The urge to leave had waned with the moon's setting and things had gone back to normal, almost.

A hot summer night, the August sun had scorched the grasses and left the ground warm hours after sunset. Ron found himself lying on the ground next to Harry. Molly and Arthur were off on a week-long holiday to see Bill and Fleur, and the firewhiskey was flowing like water.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping? Your Auror test is tomorrow, yeah?" Ron looked over to Harry. His glasses were folded and hung from his shirt collar—they slipped down his nose one too many times during a raucous game of Kings and Assholes and Harry announced that he no longer needed them—and he seemed to be straining his eyes to see the stars.

"Yes, it's tomorrow. I still don't know why you aren't taking it with me." Harry's emerald eyes turned to Ron, who was holding back a laugh at his best friend's attempt at a scornful look.

"Mate, you need to try harder if you want to intimidate me with a look," Ron scoffed and looked back to the sky. "Where do you think Ginny gets it from? My mum's been making me do things without asking for years."

They lapsed into silence, and after a moment, a few things happened simultaneously. First, Ron heard the soft snuffles that he knew to be Harry sleeping. Then, he felt his scar begin to tingle. Lastly, it was as though there was a string tied to him that pulled him into the woods at the edge of the property.

That night his world changed. He stopped being the boy who helped the boy who saved the world, and became a werewolf who endangered it.

.o0o.

It had been three years since the battle of Hogwarts has changed the wizarding world. It was a few months later when Ron's life was changed forever. Harry passed his aptitude tests at the Ministry with flying colors and began Auror training right away. The anti-werewolf legislation passed by Dolores Umbridge years ago was yet to be repealed by the slow-moving Wizengamot, which meant that Ron was not able to join his friends at the Ministry. Instead, he had gone to work with his brother to rebuild Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The world needed to laugh again, his mother said, and Ron dove headfirst into rebuilding the W3 brand. He somehow found a way to make sure the business stayed afloat while his brother George tried to move through the grief of losing his twin.

After years of transforming, Ron began to look forward to day fourteen every cycle. It was when the wolf had the least control; when he felt like himself again. It was too brief, and every month he found himself aching for the easy days of Potions class and Transfiguration essays.

Day one was the worst. There has never been one good morning that begun by waking up naked, under a layer of moldy leaves, with cold and gritty dirt in every crevice. This month, Ron woke up the morning after the full moon under a huge white pine tree with needles sticking into his skin and the remains of a fawn beneath him. As though the wolf were protecting his kill. As though any animal in the woods would try and steal something from the beast that had been known to bite through the chains that had been used in the beginning in an attempt to keep the wolf contained.

Day twenty-eight, the day he knew would end in the woods transformed into a beast, that was the second worst. But, that was something he'd worry about tomorrow.

Day thirteen was just another day for Ron and his inner wolf. That was why, after a particularly rough day at work, he found himself headed to the pub.

Walking into the pub, he avoided eye contact with everyone. Sweeping over the crowd, he found a spot near the middle of The Scarred Oak. The pub was packed and it took a few minutes for his wolf to recognize that it was a crowd and to stop seeking out someone. His wolf had been on the prowl from the beginning, but Ron could never quite figure out what he was looking for.

"Was that Firewhiskey you just 'wolfed' down, Weaselby?" the voice was familiar, but the smell was not. It was rather floral, but with an earthy base, like someone who had been working in a greenhouse all day. When Ron turned on his stool, he was surprised to see Pansy Parkinson in the same pub as him.

"I don't know, Pugsley, here's hoping it makes you disappear." He toasted her with his next shot.

"Ha! Pugsley, huh? That's a new one." She chuckled and wormed her way onto the stool next to him. Her face looked a bit drawn, and the chuckle sounded like she hadn't done it in a while.

"Why you looking so morose?"

"Morose, huh? That's a big word for you, Red."

"Yeah, well, let's just say it's the first day I've felt a little like myself in a month."

"What are you even doing here? Last I heard you were in Romania."

"Yeah, I did the dragon thing with my brother for a while, but came back about a year ago to help my other brother with the shop."

"Ah, yes. The infamous Skiving Snack Pack."

They spent the evening catching up. Although they were never friends, they lived through much of the same hell together and had some of the same scars. Most people, after knowing his history, looked at him with pity, or trepidation. Pansy Parkinson exhibited neither. She spoke with him about her latest adventure—trying to start her own herbal therapy garden—and how all she wanted to do after the war was move to France, but her mother was sick and needed help.

After about the first hour, Ron noticed a booth free-up and they took their drinks over and stayed until it was closing time.

"It was nice catching up with you, Ron," Pansy told him just outside the pub. Her hands were on her hips, and she had a look on her face that was a cross between a blush and annoyance.

"You too, Pansy." She leaned over and gave him a quick hug. Her soft body pressed against his for a second, and before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in towards her. His nose pushed her short black hair to the side and he inhaled warmth from the crook of her neck. It was just as good as he thought it would be. The soft tangy earth smell was from her skin, the flowery smell was her hair.

"Um, excuse me?" She pushed him away. "Did you seriously just sniff me like you are a dog?" She pulled her hair back down and wiped at her neck.

"I'm so sorry. Damnit. I didn't mean too. I'll go." He turned quickly to stop her from seeing his reddening face.

"Hey. It's—"

"Please don't say 'okay.' This is why I can't even go on a date. My damn wolf just takes over." He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at some invisible pebbles next to the pub.

"I wasn't going to say 'okay.' Well, maybe, but I get it. I hugged you without asking, you sniffed me. How about, if we catch a drink again tomorrow, we just ask first?" she put her hand on his shoulder and kept it there when he tried to recoil away from her.

"Tomorrow?" he asked, turning the slightest bit towards her.

"Tomorrow," she reassured. "Now, can I trust you to walk me to my flat safely without trying to sniff me the whole time?"

"I can get you there safely, and I won't try to sniff you the whole time." He reached over and grabbed her proffered hand and let her lead the way to her flat.

It was the first time he felt like he was doing better by the world, walking this woman—who didn't need protecting from anyone but his wolf—home.

[everygildedstar]

Bible Study (Optional Male Bias)

Summary: He wants to know what could be better than God’s love, and you are happy to enlighten him

Pairing: Optional Bias x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, religious corruption, blasphemy, hand jobs, blow jobs, riding, fem dom, male sub, loss of virginity, sex in a church, semi-public sex, quoting scripture during sex

A/N: It’s been a while since i wrote a smut so i’m rusty, so please be nice. Inspired by a discussion with @bigkpopstan and anon about religious corruption and Heeseung. Heeseung was in mind when I wrote this but it’s technically optional bias so have fun. ;)

“Meet me in the confession booth when everyone leaves for the barbeque,” you had messaged him. 

There had been a certain tension between the two of you for a while. He knew you weren’t the innocent “Church Girl” you pretended to be, and you knew he was curious. Curious about what could be so great as to reject what you were taught at church. What could possibly be better than God’s love? 

He had asked you as much one day, while you were waiting for your parents to stop socializing so you could go home.

“Because I like what I can understand,” you answered. “I like what makes me feel alive. I like what I can be certain of. And I am certain that there are a great number of things that are more pleasurable to me than church, and worshipping our so-called God while receiving nothing in return.”

“Like what?” he pushed.

“Maybe I could show you sometime,” you had said before walking out with your family.

He hadn’t brought it up to you again for a long time, but you could tell he thought about it. You could see it in his face every time you caught him looking at you, and every time he would look away blushing, as if he had been caught doing something sinful.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He asked you to show him. And that’s how, today, you ended up pulling him into the confession booth in the empty church.

You shut and locked the door behind you, and then there was silence. The tension was so thick, just the sound of your breaths to fill the space, only a small amount of light leaking into the tiny room.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked. “There is no going back. You will only be pretending to be the good church boy. You will be like me,” You reach out and hold his face in one hand and the nape of his neck with the other, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “a sinner.”

You feel him nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“And you are not scared?” you ask further.

“No. If it is truly a sin, and should I wish to repent, God is merciful. He will take me back,” he says. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “And if you don’t wish to repent?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. “Then I suppose hell can’t be that bad if you’ll be there, my own beautiful temptress.”

You laughed again. “So much for the good little church boy.” 

You leaned in and kissed him. It started out slow and sweet, and you tried to pour every ounce of passion and honey as you can into every movement. He seemed to follow your lead leaning into you so much you were leaning back with him. You bit his lip, and then took his gasp to press your tongue into his mouth. He moans a little, surprised at the intrusion and starts sucking on it. 

You slowly move him back until his back hits the wall of the booth, pressing yourself close to his body. You tug his hair while your other hand starts to roam, slowly feeling its way past each dip in his defined chest and abdomen. You hook a finger in his belt loop and use it to pull his hips even further against you, forcing him to break the kiss and let out a moan. You move to kiss his neck, or at least the little bit you could reach with his unbuttoned collar. He moans again, and then again even louder when your hips forward. “What is your favorite scripture?” you ask. “Recite it for me, and don’t stop or I’ll stop.”

“What-” he asks as you unbutton his pants while you attack his neck with your mouth again. He gasps when you pull down his zipper, and then you reach your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, eventually grasping his cock with only the tips of your fingers. He lets out a needy groan, rolling his hips into your touch, but you don’t move any further.

“Recite it, or I’m not going to do anything.”

He takes a second to gather his thoughts enough. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not wa-want.” He stutters when you pull his waistband down and bring his cock out, hissing at the cold air. You give it one stroke, and then stop, waiting for him to continue.

“He maketh me to lie d-down in green pastures-” You start stroking him slowly, rubbing your thumb over his slit once to gather his pre-come. You continue kissing his neck until you find a sweet spot that makes him whimper.

“-he leadeth me be-beside the still waters.” You move faster, pumping lightly with each stroke, while you pull his hair with the hand still resting there. 

“He restoreth my s-soul-” His grip on you tightens, hands grabbing fistfulls of the material of your church dress. “-he leadeth me in the p-paths of righteousness for his -ngh- name's sake.”

“Yea, though I wa-alk through the valley of the sha-hadow of death, I will f-fear no evil-” you move your kisses to the other side of his neck, and he throws his head back against the wood of the booth.

“-for thou art with m-me; thy rod and thy s-staff they co-co-comfort me- ” You then get on your knees in front of him, licking the tip of his cock, hand still stroking his length. “-Shit!”

You snicker, giving a long lick up the underside before looking up at him. “Don’t swear when you are reciting scripture, sinner.” -he moans at the nickname- “Keep going.”

He whines again before he continues, voice considerably higher. 

“Th-thou preparest a ta-able before me in the pre-esence of mine enemies-” You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly. He lets out a guttural groan.

“-thou anointest m-my head with o-oil-” your hand that isn’t preoccupied with stroking the part of his cock that is not deep in your mouth is making its way under to cup his balls. 

“-my cup ru-runneth over.” He muffles a whine with one hand while the other makes its way into your hair.

He pulls his hand away from his mouth to recite the next part. “Surely g-goodness and merc-cy shall follow me all the d-days of my life- ngh!” You are bobbing your mouth farther and farther each time, and he has to refrain from thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. 

“-and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Fuck, I’m so close-” He finishes his scripture, and you take him as far as you can and swallow, the squeezing of your throat around his cock almost sending him over the edge. You lift your mouth off of him with a pop, and he whines like a hurt puppy. “No- Please- Why?”

You stand back up and turn him, making sit on the seat to your left, before you push your skirt up around your hips and straddle him. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you?”

You grip his cock again, rubbing the tip over the wet spot on your panties. Both of you let out a moan together, pressing your foreheads together. His hands fly to your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Are you okay with this?” You ask again before you continue. 

He nods, the thin ray of light peeking into the booth in a perfect spot to show the desire in his eyes. “Yes, please. Please let me feel you. I’m not turning back.” He kisses you again, short but passionately. “Ruin me.”

You whine at his words, then you pull your soaked panties to the side and line his cock up with your entrance before you sink down on him, ever so slowly. Deep, long moans come from both of you. You kiss him again when he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Would you like for me to recite my favorite scripture for you?” you ask him, foreheads together while you adjust to his large size. “It was from a woman to her lover, and I feel like it fits the situation nicely.”

He nods, interested. “Enlighten me.”

“My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.” You start to move agonizingly slowly up and down his length. He buries his face in your neck to muffle his noises and grips your hips even harder, and you were sure you would have bruises in the shape of his hands the next day. 

“His head is as the most fine gold; his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.” You tangle your hands into his own hair and he attaches his lips to the side of your neck like you had done to him.

“His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.” You start to move faster, rolling your hips with each thrust. 

“His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers; his lips like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.” You feel his hips stutter as he struggles to keep from thrusting up into you. 

“His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl-” He loses the fight, and starts jerking his hips up as you sink down, causing him to go way deeper, hitting your sweet spot and making you moan. “-his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.”

“His legs are as pillars of marble set upon sockets of fine gold; his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.” You take one of his hands from your hips and press it between you against your clit, ripping a whine out of you.

“His mouth is most sweet-“ you move impossibly faster, even with your thighs growing tired. Your combined sounds and heavy breaths resonate within the confined box. 

“I’m close- is it ok if I…” He asked. You nod pulling him close, lips hovering only a hair away from his. 

“-yea, he is altogether lovely.” You kiss him deeply as you reach your high, hands harshly pulling his hair and gripping his shoulder. The squeezing from your release sent him over the edge, and he pulled your hips flush to his, coating your insides. 

As you come down from your orgasms, you finish the scripture. “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths.

“Holy shit-” he says, and you let out a breathy laugh as you pull off of him, both of you wincing at the sensitivity. “I see why you do this now.”

“Are you gonna regret this and never talk to me again?” You ask, standing up and fixing yourself up. 

“Hell no.” He puts himself away and zips and buttons his pants. You feel his hands rest on your hips, and you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in for another kiss.

“What do we tell our parents if they ask where we’ve been?” 

“Tell them we were doing private bible study and shared our favorite verses. And maybe ask if we can see each other more often for “bible study” sessions,” you added before stealing another kiss. 

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “That’s the only kind of bible study I’ll need from now on. If god is real and merciful, he can forgive me when the day comes. I have the only god I want to believe in right here in my arms.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Kenickie Murdoch

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You never really cared about social classes or what people chose to wear. In theory, you didn’t mind greasers; you’d actually been quite fond of them at your old school. You just didn’t like the greasers at Rydell. 

- Your family moved houses during your senior year and since Rydell was much closer than the school you’d been going to for the past three years, your parents chose to enroll you there instead. 

- Fast forward to your first day at school. Coincidentally, you ended up on the same bus as Patty Simcox, who enthusiastically took it upon herself to become your tour guide. 

- The minute you stepped foot into the schools parking lot, her eyes zeroed in on a group of boys who were stood near the front of the school. You glanced over and asked if something was wrong. Her response was to warn you about “the T-Birds” and the other greaser/delinquent groups in the school. 

- You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and assured her you would, mainly to change the subject. You hadn’t really intended to avoid the kids, well, up until you got your first real look at them. 

- Greasers started trouble at your old school, but it was always with people who either deserved it or were willing to fight back. This; you watched as the group of boys teased “Eugene”, wasn’t the same. You shook your head and made your way to your first period class, realizing that it was probably good to stay away from these delinquents. 

- But alas, that would prove to be quite difficult. Kenickie was in; at least, one of your classes; he could have been in more considering you were sure he cut half of them that day. And he seemed to take a liking to you the moment he walked in; late, to class. 

- You could feel him burning holes into the side of your head and when you finally glanced towards him, he gave you a small crooked grin. You rolled your eyes and turned away, intent on ignoring him for the rest of the period. He didn’t like that. 

- Throughout the period, which was filled with first day “fun” activities, he became increasingly bothersome with his attempts to garner your attention. Tapping his fingers, tapping his foot, dropping a textbook “on accident”, making loud jokes. You accidentally chuckled at one of them and were immediately met with a grin and wink once you snuck a glance at him. 

- The bell chimed and you picked up your things, making your way out of class quickly, hoping to leave him in the dust. You had no such luck as he seemed to be hot on your tail, matching your pace as he uttered his first words to you. 

“Haven’t seen you around here.”

“Maybe you haven’t looked hard enough.”

“Believe me, I’d remember a face like yours.” 

“Well maybe you should try and forget it.” You told him just as you entered your next class, leaving him standing in the doorway; a determined look plastered across his face. This wouldn’t be the end of it. 

- For the next few months, Kenickie would do everything he could to get you to acknowledge him. Teasing, flirting, complimenting, peacocking, playing it cool; you name it.  

- Going to hang out somewhere? He always just happens to be there, catching your eye as he enters the room. If you go to walk past him, he’ll block you with his legs, making you stop and speak to him; if only to say an exasperated excuse me, as you wait. 

- Waiting outside for someone? Well so is he. Hey, it isn’t his fault that you’re stood in a popular place that his friends always meet at …but while you’re here, why doesn’t he buy you a coke or something? 

- It’s not that you hated him. Sure, he annoyed you and could be a real jerk when he wanted to be but you didn’t hate him. A part of you even liked him and his attention, but you also knew that it probably wasn’t in your best interest to be interested in him. 

- Ever since you came to the school, all you ever heard about was how him and his friends did this or how him and his friends did that. Watch out for Kenickie. Oh can you guess who Kenickie parked with last night. Some of  it seemed exciting and he was certainly handsome, but he was also trouble and that was the last thing you needed, wasn’t it? 

- Unfortunately for you, Kenickie wasn’t keen on giving up and your resolve was beginning to break. His flirtation took a less obnoxious turn, it even started sounding sweet and soon enough you had to admit that he’d wormed his way into your heart. 

- It was after school one day, you were sat in the nearly empty courtyard, reading a book and enjoying the sun. After a while, you heard boots scraping slightly on the concrete behind you, the noise getting closer and closer until you heard your name. You immediately knew who it was. 

“Kenickie?” You asked, turning to look at him.

- He locked eyes with you for a moment, looking as though he really wanted to say something before he glanced up. His eyes scanned over the five people who were sat in the courtyard around you, his teeth nibbling anxiously at his bottom lip. 

“C’mon, I gotta talk to you.” He said, taking you by the arm and pulling you out of your seat, dragging you behind him as he walked to a totally deserted area behind the school. 

- The two of you stopped short and you watched him as he turned towards you. He was acting …strangely. Was he sick? Was he on something? You were about to say something when he finally spoke. 

“Y/n? You know how I’m always messin with ya?” He tugged at his collar, his eyes darting around, moving from the ground to your face and back to the ground again. “And how I- How I’ve, well, you know. How I’ve been messin with ya. 

- Listening to him ramble, it took you a minute but you finally realized what was going on. The Kenickie Murdoch …was nervous. 

- The thought flattered you more than anything. The tough greaser of your school was getting genuinely flustered and it was because of you. 

- His eyes landed on you for a long moment, his words coming to a stop as he seemed to mull over what he should say. Finally, he looked to his feet and spoke, his voice so low that you almost didn’t hear what he said.

“Well, I like you and I wanted to know if you, maybe, liked me too.” He gazed into your eyes once he’d finished, an uncharacteristic vulnerability lingering inside his baby blues. 

- You felt yourself begin to smile, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach as you tried to think of how to respond. Simple seemed like the way to go.

“Yeah,” You said softly, smiling up at him. “Yeah, I like you.”

- A big grin spread across his face, his nerves leaving him in an excited chuckle as he gripped your bicep and gave it a gentle push. Biting his lip as he smiled, his hand moved at his side as though he were banging it against something, before realizing he probably looked like a big goof. 

“Great,” He cleared his throat. “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

- Your first date was at the drive-in theater. You don’t know how hard it was for him to not make a move on you. If you ever noticed him suddenly stiffen, it was because he was willing himself not to reach down and touch your boob or lunge across his center console and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. You’re a lady, he can’t do that! Bad Kenickie! Bad!

- Knowing his reputation, you chose to make him wait a little and anticipate your first kiss. So the two of you kissed for the first time on your fourth date. But believe me, he tried to smooch you before then.

- The two of you had gone to Frosty’s palace for a shake and after you were finished, he drove the two of you to “makeout point”. He tried to act innocent when you gave him a look but he wasn’t fooling anyone. You rolled your eyes as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, uttering out a “come on” and smiling as he dove to connect your lips.

- Well, now that you have him, you won’t be able to get rid of him anytime soon. Not that you want to.

- Pda? All the time baby. You’re his girl and he’s gotta show it …just no goo goo ga ga stuff. He’s got a tough greaser reputation to keep up, ya know?

- His arm is wrapped around your shoulders 90% of the time.

- He likes gripping your chin and tilting you into a kiss. That lovey dovey look in your eyes as your gazing up at him gets him every time.

- Sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. He’s a serial lounger so it’s either that or he’ll just drape himself across you.

- He uses a lot of nicknames with you. Most of them are used in a sarcastic tone, unless they’re generic or the two of you are alone.

- Playful threats, sarcasm, and snide remarks.

- He will nap on you, laying his head in your lap and crossing his arms over his chest. Hope you don't mind the grease too much.

- He’ll deny it until his very last breath, but he’s a snuggler and is definitely the one to initiate cuddles 90% of the time. He complains and practically pouts whenever you pull away from him.

- The two of you usually cuddle facing each other, your arms wrapped snug around each other and your legs tangled together. He can’t help but smile whenever you sleepily tell him he smells good; which he always does.

- He insists on walking you to class, not caring about when he manages to get to his own. He’s late everyday anyway.

- Sneaking out to go see him. There’s always a smile on his face as he watches you make your way outside, though he’ll; weakly, scold you if you do anything dangerous. You just tell him that he could always stop coming to see you. He never takes you up on that offer.

- Late night drives.

- Parking in dark areas.

- Desperate makeouts. He always trails after your lips every time you pull away, moaning your name like the two of you were doing a whole lot more than kissing.

- One word: insatiable. His hormones are racing. Testosterone is pumping through his body. His pelvis is leading the way wherever he goes. He can force himself to wait until you want to do something but boy is it hard when you look so good.

- The more heated things get, the sloppier his kisses become; though you’re usually too far gone to really care.

- “Sneaky butt grabs” and blatant grinding against you.

- He definitely air humps your backside and makes grabbing hands at your butt/chest when you aren’t facing him, pretending like he wasn't doing anything when you turn to look at him.

- Hickeys. 

- Soft pushes when he makes wisecracks. He’ll knock shoulders with you and smirk or waggle his eyebrows, until you smile and roll your eyes.

- Anytime he does something; especially something big, he’ll ask what you think or look towards you for your reaction. He seeks your praise. Your opinion means a lot to him, even if he doesn’t outright say it.

- He probably got your name tattooed on him at some point. I wouldn't put it past the sucker.

- Not so deep down, he’s a softie and a pushover; especially for you. Try not to give him too much lip when he gets all goo goo eyed with you.

- As suave as he may seem. He hasn’t made it with all that many girls; at least not all the way. Sometimes, you’re gonna be genuinely shocked with some of the confessions that he makes to you because they all just make him seem so much more …cute.

- Momma’s boy. You think it’s sweet when you go over to his house and she dotes on him, usually prompting him to give an embarrassed “ma” with a mouthful of sandwich and/or reddening cheeks.

- He doesn't have a whole lot of spending money so; generally, the two of you go on fairly cheap dates, and usually go Dutch when buying things.

- Sock hops.

- Sharing and stealing food. If you can’t finish something and ask if he wants it, be prepared for him to grab it before you can even finish your sentence.

- He’s always got a beer for you if you’re into that sorta thing. He was probably the person to give you your first, amongst other firsts....

- Double; and more, dates with the couples in his gang.

- Your boyfriend is also Danny Zuko's boyfriend so expect to see the greaser a lot. He’s pretty fond of you and much sweeter than you anticipated.

- You’re only allowed to wear the jacket when it’s late at night and he catches you shivering; or when you’re completely alone. He won’t let any of the other guys see you wearing it, they can’t know that he’s gone soft.

- He’s not the best at comforting you but he’s pretty good at cheering you up and distracting you from what’s bothering you.

- Dangerous displays and daredevil antics. Whether he does them to impress or spook you is still up for debate.

- Harmless pranks, usually when you’re alone because he’d have to kick someone’s ass if they laughed you. He’s the only one allowed to tease you.

- He likes looking through your things. Your purse, your shelves, your locker; he’s a curious boy and his questions must be answered through scientific observation. He’s also looking for your compact mirror half the time so maybe just take your bag back and get it for him. 

- Sometimes, a womans gotta stand her ground and you’ll have to every now and again to make sure he doesn't walk all over you. He loves you but he can also be a jerk so give him a little hell when he’s giving you trouble. He learns that you aren’t to be toyed with or disrespected pretty quickly, and to be honest, you putting him in his place kinda turns him on.

- You once went to see a movie with him and offhandedly mentioned that one of the actors was handsome. He spent the whole night criticizing the movie and glancing at you when the actor was on screen to see your reaction. He was also extra handsy and kept trying to make a move, which prompted you to shrug him off. He was genuinely offended that you’d rather watch the guy then fool around with him.

- He can; obviously, be quite the jealous man. The only problem is that when he’s jealous, he usually tries to make you jealous too; especially if you’re fighting. It usually culminates in him failing to keep himself under control, finally just snapping and trying to beat the other guy bloody which is pretty much how all of his bouts of jealousy turn out. 

- He’s protective as all hell in all meanings of the word. He doesn’t want you getting hurt feelings, a hurt body, sick; nothing. He always jumps to your defense, immediately telling people to shut up if they even try to insult or hint at something unsatisfactory about you. Believe me, anybody who messes with you is cruisin’ for a bruisin’. 

- The two of you probably argue quite a bit but you don’t always have full blown fights. He’s usually a pretty blunt and sarcastic boy and doesn’t mince his words very often; especially when he’s angry, so things can get pretty heated whenever you do have a fight. 

- If you storm out on him, he’ll follow, even if he knows you’re about ready to kill him. He’ll take all the abuse you want to throw at him but you’re going to settle and square it right then and there, dammit!

- If you don’t wind up resolving things immediately after, then he’ll linger where he knows you’ll pass, hoping you’ll come up to him and forget everything that happened. He’s shy when apologizing but he does give you one when he’s in the wrong. 

- He shyly mumbles out a “love you” after you say it, especially when it’s in front of the guys. He’ll knock their blocks off if they even so much as smile at his expense.

- He proposes to you straight out of highschool. Some may call him crazy but he knows that you’re the one and he’s ready to spend the rest of his life with you.

[amidstsaltandsmoke]

prompt 142 👀

...anon, I promise I didn't forget about you! Life™ and writers block/doubt had me stuck for a while. Apologies that this was sent something like 5ish weeks ago? I originally had a whole other idea written for this one but didn't like it and scrapped it. Not sure how much I like this one but I hope that you do!! Someday I will learn how to write an actual drabble-sized drabble. Thank you for sending the prompt!💛 P.S. I changed the wording around a little bit, I hope you don't mind :) ________________________ Prompt: “Hold my hand so he gets jealous.” Dany was a master at these types of work events by now, but the past few weeks, especially, had been draining. That was typical for a start-up, when they were trying to garner as much outreach as possible. Traveling between two different states and another country and back in the span of 7 days was a whole other animal, however.

This affair was meant to be a little more informal, but the air was still stuffy with corporate suits slithering about. Her favorite colleague and come-to-be wonderful friend had been working with her to get the head honchos drunk the quickest, that way they would be less inclined to hover and more likely to forget the goings on entirely.

But it wasn’t any of that that had her so on edge. It was that Jon was acting particularly distant ever since they’d all arrived nearly three hours ago now, and he seemed to almost be evading her.

Jon Snow, the young visionary who co-founded the company alongside her, who developed the technology that was rapidly playing a vital role in detecting and detaining human traffickers. That was sexy all on its own, but tonight he was dressed in a crisp, slim black suit, his dark locks half pulled back behind his head, his short beard trimmed just a little more for the gala.

They'd spent many a late evening and early morning in the office and over video conference working out the kinks of their start-up, smoothing wrinkles and always doing their best to stay ahead of their goals, where seeing one another so groomed and freshened up it was almost jarring. Typically - especially by the end of their days when work ran over - they'd been too riddled with exhaustion to bother keeping up physical appearances. There were more important matters that needed tending. And plus, as magnificent as he looked now, when he was a little disheveled with his riotous curly hair strewn about his head, his black thick framed glasses, his button-down loosened at the collar...there was an odd sort of comfort she found with that, and in knowing he was comfortable enough in her presence to relax.

She devoted so much of her young life to this dream and to have found someone just as driven, reliable, and enthusiastic about it was beyond her hopes and dreams.

But it also came with some side effects.

Months of time spent together between just the two of them had, inadvertently, created a wild storm of feelings for him. She found herself thinking about him on her days off and in her time away from the office, of which she spent more there than home these days. Dinner was more frequently than not held in one of their offices, depending on how they were feeling by the end of a strenuous day - his was always cooler with the air conditioning turned so low she oftentimes wondered how he didn't get hypothermia sitting in there.

On the other hand, she cranked up the heat in hers, and she received mirroring grumbles from Jon, how his northern skin would simply melt and she'd be left scooping him up off the floor.

To her advantage, however, that meant loosened layers of clothing, sometimes less of it if she were lucky. The same went to his benefit, too; he thought she didn't notice his wandering eyes, but of course she did. Just as she felt she was smooth enough to get a study on his stacked arms when he would remote even his button-down and left himself in a snug white or black plain t-shirt. That occurrence only happened once; she possibly hadn't been as discreet about her ogling as her mind had told her. Not when the cotton fiber was stretched so perfectly over his broad, muscular chest and fit his biceps like a rubber glove.

Sometimes, in the last hour of the day when they were already working well over their regular time, they would give themselves a break and kick back. They dove into topics ranging from favorite movies to deeper subjects like their most fucked up childhood memory. It turned out they had quite a lot in common, which fed into her ever-growing "things I adore about Jon Snow" bank that she stored away in her mind.

The trouble was, workplace romance was simply not allowed. At least, not within the same departments, and it still required paperwork to be filled out with an assortment of terms and agreements to abide to. Considering they were co founders together, that made things trickier.

Neither of them spoke any of this into the atmosphere, but it was palpable, and it got more torturous as time went on. Jon was the stronger one out of the two of them, and she knew he would never act on anything if it meant she could get let go or demoted. Their CEO could be a little bit of a hardass when it came down to company policies, but Dany was convinced they could find a way to make things work.

That included doing so behind everyone's backs. In all of the time they spent together without other company, Dany could count on one hand how many times there was ever anybody else in the building besides them when they were pulling extra hours. They could easily keep their hands to themselves during the day around their colleagues. At least, she thought so. It would at least make for a very exciting night cap to the day once they were able to be alone.

Missandei and Oberyn were the only two people she could trust to confide in, and to also keep it between just the three of them. Thus far, they did nothing but root for her luck to change, that maybe one of them would just bite the bullet and finally hook up. She was quite tired of skirting around it when she was with Jon, and the tension that thickened between them was going to reach a breaking point.

If she didn’t do something soon, if not just to confirm that he had it as bad as she did, she would wind up doing something impulsive, like pouncing on him one of these days when nobody was around. Or, possibly, when they had an audience.

Dany turned around and scanned the room until she latched onto him, where he was shaking hands and chatting up other people. He was not the tallest man in the world, but his presence was demanding, despite his humbleness. Every now and again, even in conversation, he would look up and around as if seeking something or someone. A little foolishly, she hoped it was her, though even in heels she was below average height compared to most everyone else in the room and would be a little difficult to locate.

"Go get that ass, girl," Oberyn growled into her ear, whacking her bum with the back of his hand, to which she promptly slugged his arm.

"Ouch!" He hissed, rubbing at the offended area. His smugness returned soon after, lips ticking up at the corners. "You'd better save that strength, you will need it later!"

He was darting off into the crowd with a chortle before she could scold him, and it took all of her professional mind to not flip off his retreating back.

“So...how are you going to seduce the elusive Jon Snow?” Missi inquired with a sassy eyebrow raised, her nearly-empty drink clutched in her hand.

Dany sighed, trying to not be too obvious as she observed him flitting from person to person. “I’m starting to think I’d imagined the entire thing,” she muttered with some frustration.

Missi pouted. “I don’t know about that. Not only are there a lot of snitches here that are probably keeping him at arms’ length, but have you not noticed Jon only goes to these things if you’re here?”

Dany frowned, finally tearing her eyes away from Jon to gape at her friend. “What? No, he’s gone to plenty without me, I’m sure of it…”

But was she? In hindsight, now that she really thought about it, there was never a social work event that Jon ever reported to her when she couldn’t make it. She could recall a handful where she went for the both of them, because he would much rather stay lat to play catch-up than mingle with large groups of people, and whenever there was news or gossip, he was the first person she’d save it for.

“You need to make him show you that he wants you just as bad as you want him. I’m sure he has the same fantasies-”

“Missi,” Dany drawled, tilting her head back and scrunching up her face. Yes, she and Missi may have shared almost daily secret huddles in the office, most of which entailed Dany agonizing over Jon Snow haunting her dreams on a regular basis. Rather than his hands rolling up his sleeves because the air was stifling, it was him doing so and crawling over her. Instead of him crouching down near her feet to pick up the pen he’d just dropped, it was him lowering himself to lift up the hem of her skirt and situate his face between her thighs. Sometimes it was sweeter than that: his hands sweeping wisps of hair away from her face when she gave up on it at the end of the day, or he would say “fuck it” to a prticularly agitating project and would gather her up and they would hold eah other on his office couch.

Reality was reflective of the sweetness of her wandering thoughts, just much less physical. They always texted each other when they each got home safely. By now, they’d each memorized their favorite go-to take-out preferences for various restaurants. If someone was having a rougher-than-usual day, one would send the other home and stay longer to cover them (if they were both having an equally terrible day, it came down to a couple rounds of rock-paper-scissors).

All things friends would do for one another, sure, except for the unbearable pull between them that was almost a physical thing.

In recent weeks, they began texting each other regularly, and most of it did not pertain to work, unless they were poking fun at it. A handful of times, Jon snapped photos of something of interest of Dany’s, and his message screamed “this made me think of you” without the actual words. It was the subtext. Usually something along the lines of, “didn’t you mention you were looking for this for about a million years?” in regards to a really cute coffee bar that had been sold out in her favorite color, a lemon yellow, that Jon had managed to find. And reserved for her special so nobody would snatch it up.

Or the multiple times he would share photos of his beautiful snow-white dog, Ghost, in various odd positions, or making strange faces, and adding something like: “a nightcap to your shitty day?”

And Dany loved to return the favor, though it was no competition. She just genuinely adored making him smile. Sometimes it was taking the piss out of him when he was extra grumpy, which immediately put him in a lighter mood. It was also bringing in an obnoxious box of coffee to share between them during the early dawn hours when nobody should be congregating for work-related endeavors at such an ungodly time. Just last week, he had been fidgeting more than usual and was noticeably distracted. When she had inquired what the issue was, he mentioned that Ghost was probably crossing his legs at that point since Jon was running late. As Dany had another errand to run before stopping home, she’d offered to let him out since Jon had a late conference that evening, and he had been all-too-happy in handing her over his keys.

The snort from Missi that invaded Dany’s thoughts had her turning her head toward her friend, who looked doubtful. “Probably every sane person in this room has had a fantasy about you. Jon is at the very top of that list."

Dany grimaced. "Please don't say things like that when I have to look all these people in the eye tonight.”

She weighed Missi’s words, but nothing came to mind right away. Jon appeared too distracted to notice anything she did anyway, and she also didn’t want to come off as desperate, especially if it might raise suspicions amongst others in the ballroom.

Then an idea struck her when she spotted Oberyn once more. Their marketing sleuth, and someone she had grown fond of because of his warm demeanor toward everyone he met. He was the friends-with-everyone type, and he was flagging her down as if he’d read her mind, so she excused herself and weaved through the crowd until she reached him.

Oberyn pecked each of her cheeks, even though he’d just seen her a little while ago, then held her out by her arms and gave her a slow once-over as if he’d only been seeing her for the first time that night. With anyone else, she would have balked, but she knew him well enough to understand it was a platonic gesture. Once his eyes reached hers again, his dark brow lifted to his hairline. “How has the white wolf kept his paws off of you this long?”

Dany scowled, flicking his shoulder. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself for the past several months.”

“Well, what’s the hold-up?”

Sighing, Dany made a secret peek behind Oberyn where Jon was moving closer. Briefly did their eyes lock, and she turned back to Oberyn. “Hold my hand,” she said, extending her own for his.

“Why? So he gets jealous?” Oberyn drawled, snatching up her hand and taking it a step further by pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“Maybe,” she replied, straightening her spine by her boldness.

They conversed for some time, getting cozy and giggling away and eventually were joined by some of their other colleagues. When someone made a point to question why they were holding hands, Oberyn was quick on his feet in explaining that there were no rules to dating across different departments, only if two people worked in the same one. But it soured her stomach.

After she and Oberyn stayed that way for a short time, chatting about things she could barely bring herself to care much about as Jon edged past them, her shoulders slumped as she twisted about to watch him make a beeline for the bar.

“Daenerys,” Oberyn called to her sympathetically, “go to him. You’re not going to get anywhere if you keep up this silly game,” he explained and wiggled their conjoined hands, gently returning hers to her.

She swallowed and nodded, feeling childish that she even considered making such a move. Most of the guests were out on the dance floor, so it was easier to maneuver around to get to the bar where Jon had just collected his drink. Her nerves were wrecked, and this time it was the uncertainty of what reaction she may get, despite her earlier confidence.

As he was turning around, she observed him downing a quick shot before he realized she was there. He returned the glass to the counter and gave her his full attention. “Hey,” he rasped, his throat likely still burning from the liquor.

The pessimistic thoughts ate at her once more. “Hey. I didn’t think you’d show up tonight.” She tried for casual conversation, though it sounded forced even to her own ears.

Shrugging, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Figured I ought to make an appearance. You look nice, by the way.”

The tight smile he produced felt uncharacteristically forced, almost nervous. She shifted on her heeled feet, her mouth suddenly parched, her words half choked out. “Thanks. So do you,” she drew in a silent breath, and decided she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you alright?”

“Aye, just...tired,” he landed on, but she wasn’t convinced. Before she could dig a little deeper, his attention fell on something behind her. She followed his gaze and caught Oberyn heading their way. She wasn’t sure what to make of his determined expression, but something about it made her a little queasy.

“I should probably go before your boyfriend gets upset,” Jon murmured just loud enough for her to hear; he didn’t give her a chance to catch him before she realized what he’d said and disappeared on her.

Oberyn stopped just short of Dany. “What was that all about? It looked like you needed rescuing.”

Pressing her eyes closed, Dany silently cursed herself. “I’m an idiot, that’s what happened. I’ll catch you later,” she cut him an apologetic glance and squeezed his arm before trailing in the direction of where Jon slunk off to.

___________________

The damned ballroom and her petite height made it hard to see above anyone, but luckily she was able to locate him by asking around if anyone had seen him. When she was notified he had mentioned he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to take off without any commotion, her heart sank. She was a damn fool, and now she was half running in six-inch heels, the skirt of her dress hiked up so she wouldn’t land herself a concussion, hoping beyond hope he hadn’t reached the parking lot yet.

She almost passed him up when she barged her way outside, frantically searching over the lot, breathless, to spot his car. A movement to her left made her jump, her hand flying to her chest until Jon stepped beneath the dim patio light and let her breathe again.

"Bloody hells," she exhaled, observing him as he put out his cigarette with his shoe and tossed the butt into the trash.

"Sorry," he chuckled, once more sheltering his hands inside his pockets as he turned his shadowed eyes on her.

"I didn't know you smoked," she mused, still trying to calm her heart.

Jon ducked his head, and she thought she caught a smirk on him, but it was too dark to tell. "Only sometimes. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

So much for giving her heart time to settle - now it kickstarted tenfold. There was no way to be honest without the whole truth. She supposed now was as good a time as any, best as they didn't have an audience. "I was hoping to catch you before you'd left," she paused, his gaze lifting and resting hard on her. So intense that she averted hers to her feet while she sounded her admission. "Oberyn isn't my boyfriend."

After a moment of silence, she sought his reaction. He lifted a shoulder "It's not my business, Dany."

"No. It is, because…," she took a half step closer, then squeezed her eyes shut. It sounded so childish to even say it. "I'd asked him to do me a favor so that it might make you jealous."

It came out so quickly she didn't think he understood half the words. But he was frowning when she braved opening her eyes again. "And why would you want to do that, Dany?"

His voice fell an octave lower, practically purring, and it left her momentarily stunned in place even as he began to close in on her. The use of her nickname in such a manner was leaving her in a delirious state. By the time he stopped, just a hair’s breadth short of their toes touching, she was having to tilt her head up to see him. Even despite the added height of her shoes. Somehow, her voice didn't quiver with the hopeful anticipation that was setting her nerves alight.

With whatever scrap of courage she had left, she voiced it into the world. "Because I really, really, really like you, and it's been torture trying to piece together whether the feeling is mutual, or if it's a figment of my imagination."

His frown returned, deeper than before, his eyes darting between each of hers. "How could you ever think it's one-sided?" He asked gruffly, and a knot firmly wrapped around her throat. Maybe that was a good thing, to prevent her from saying anything that would break the spell. “You occupy my mind ninety percent of the time,” he said, “the other ten is me trying to figure out how to stop thinking about you for five bloody minutes so I can get work done without being distracted.”

She huffed out a breath of relief, finally allowing herself to smile. It was good that it was night time so the red sweeping over her cheeks was well hidden. Still, she ducked her head to give herself a moment to dwell on his confession. His finger gently encouraged her to come back to him though, and suddenly the air between them was thin, his breath puffing against her lips.

A raucous shriek just a little way over inside the building made them both jump apart, a group of intoxicated people bowling their way through the double doors and out onto the patio. One of them slurred their apology as they stumbled out into the parking lot, exclaiming about how they couldn’t wait to get their hands on a fat greasy burger and then throw it up later. There couldn’t have possibly been anything much better at ruining the mood than that.

Jon huffed when he looked at her, rubbing at his forehead. No doubt his heart was beating just as violently against his chest as hers was. Without a word, he snatched up Dany’s hand and tugged her into the grassy area, hidden behind the solid wall of the venue. After double checking over his shoulder, he pressed himself against the rough brick wall and pulled her flat against him while she gasped, gently sweeping away small wisps of hair that got in his way.

His hand cradling her jaw, he finally, finally, dipped his head until his lips were brushing over hers. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, overstimulated by months of need for him, her hand fisting his shirt whilst the other curled around the back of his neck. His hands cuffed her waist and kept her close, the tips of his fingers digging into the fleshy bits of her hips when she nudged open his mouth to slip her tongue into the hot confines of his.

The low groan he elicited forced one of her own from her throat, and then everything was escalating at a dizzying pace; their hands were roaming everywhere they could reach, exchanging nips and licks and everything inbetween until they were forced apart for air. Where she had wedged her thigh between his, she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal, and if it weren’t for the consequences she would have her way with him in the dirt and the grass. Thorn bushes be damned.

“We should probably take this somewhere else,” he whispered, winded, and she was happy that he wasn’t about to suggest they stop altogether.

She nodded before the last word was out. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Jon considered their surroundings carefully, then grabbed her hand.

_______

Their seatbelts were thrown off so hard, Dany was surprised they hadn’t accidentally shattered Jon’s car windows with the force. They’d snuck off into the parking lot and after a heady makeout session, Jon decided they ought to find somewhere a little more private, settling on a nearby park where the only source of light was several yards away.

The second he cut the engine they crashed together, pawing at one another until he dragged her over onto his lap. His hands molded to her ass, but the material of her dress made him growl with frustration that it didn’t allow him the access he desired, so he slid them beneath and his head smacked back against his headrest when he discovered she’d foregone panties with a groan between his teeth.

Dany moaned as his fingers kneaded her bare flesh, and she took advantage of the new exposure of skin down the column of his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses and tiny bites where the collar of his dress shirts could mask.

Jon shifted his legs and bumped into the steering wheel with a crack. “Ouch, fuck,” he grumbled, and she realized their current position wasn’t very practical if they wanted things to go any further.

“Are you okay?” Dany asked against his clammy skin, reaching behind her to smooth her hand over the offended kneecap.

“More than,” he replied, curling his fingers around to her inner, upper thighs and making her tremble. He was so close to her cunt that she could feel his heat against it, and her forehead fell against his chest, her hips rocking to seek the friction she so desperately needed. But he never gave her it; in fact, he seemed keen on doing just the opposite, skimming his fingers just at the juncture, trailing them down the length of her thighs, squeezing her ass on the way up each time.

Even when she was left a writhing mess and kissed him savagely, popped open the first couple of buttons so she could get more of him, he still refused to touch her there.

For now.

Jon pulled at her bottom lip, his voice a low, husky whisper. “We’ll have more room in the back seat.”

“What are your intentions, Jon Snow?” She inquired with feigned innocence.

With a light smack to her bum, he chewed on his bottom lip. “Get back there and I’ll show you.”

It took some finagling, but soon enough they were in the more spacious back seats, and she quickly unstrapped her heels. Jon’s shoes were next, and then he was helping her out of her dress, carefully rolling it upward until it was off of her, leaving her completely exposed for his viewing. His arms froze in the air, her dress still clutched in his hands as he took her in. The light didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough to see one another clearly.

Since he was so enlightened by her breasts, she giggled and rose onto her knees, taking her dress and letting it drop to the floor whilst she assisted him in removing his suit jacket. Once that was shed, he instantly filled his palms with her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over her pebbled nipples. He was lucky she had enough strength to not buckle under his touch, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a hasty endeavor to rid him entirely of his clothing so she could return the favor.

Then she stilled, a thought occurring to her. “Are you sure you want to do this in your car? It might get messy…,” she noted as he briefly ceased his fondling to work on shedding his pants, his dark eyes gleaming in the light.

Once he made quick work of them, his jacket was next in the pile they haphazardly tossed up front. “It’ll give me something to think about on my commute,” he rasped, and it took her a beat to understand what he meant, unable to bite back a grin. By now her cunt ached for him and they’d only just started getting things moving.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, taking his shirt with it, the play of dim light and shadows over his sculpted body making her mouth go dry and her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. Jon shifted up higher to free his arms, her fingers skimming down his chest and over the ebbs of his abdomen, eyes falling to where his cock was straining and hard in the cotton of his boxer briefs. Without anymore delay, Dany slipped her hand beneath the waistband and curled her fingers around the rigid, hot skin, twisting lightly until he was sucking sharp breaths of air through his teeth.

In a flash, he shucked off his boxer briefs and hooked an arm around her waist, ravaging her mouth. As he pressed tighter against her, his thick length nestled between her thighs, sliding along her cunt and forcing her mouth to pop open with a heady moan.

"You're soaked," Jon whispered harshly, his other hand clutched her ass cheek to keep her stationary, his breaths short puffs over her face as he slowly teased the both of them with long, slow strokes of his cock until he was thoroughly coated with her, their clammy foreheads thumping together.

Dany gripped his lats with her hands, trying to be mindful that she didn't score his skin with her nails, but barely had half a mind to care. She rolled her hips with him, her entire body quivering when he dragged his cock over her clit. The sounds erupting from her seemed to drive him mad as he echoed her.

She chanced a glimpse down between the narrow gap between them each time he pulled away, her peak so near the edge already that the sight of his wet, shiny cock disappearing between her thighs had her nearly coming just there. "I need you, Jon," she whimpered, grateful that he was as desperate as she felt. Any other time she would gladly drag it on, but she'd waited long enough to have this with him, and she was far too impatient to wait a second longer.

Carefully, she was lowered onto her back. They shared a few soft chuckles as they tried to figure out the most comfortable position for the both of them. Finally, she settled one leg off and planted the tips of her toes on the floor, the other tossed over his shoulder, while he knelt one knee on the seat and held himself up with the other on the floor.

He allowed himself some time to take her in all sprawled out for him, dragging the soft pads of his fingers down the length of her body just as she did his earlier. His hands stopped to gently massage her breasts, which were beginning to heave with anticipation, and he traced every curve of her body.

Dany swallowed, cuffing her hands around his biceps as he lowered himself to kiss her softly. Lips locked together, he nudged hers open, drawing in her upper lip and suckling on it, one hand braced near her head whilst the other made her squirm as it explored her hips, her inner thighs, until he have her exactly what she was near begging for. He barely glanced over her juices and she was moaning so loudly she was glad they'd gone somewhere more private.

Jon sucked over the soft skin just below her jaw and circled her clit with the flat of his fingers, her legs about as strong as jelly, head pressing into the seat and back arching into his touch. Jon growled at how reactive she was, his lips and tongue leaving a tinging trail down to her chest, not stopping until he pulled a nipple into his mouth and made her a wiggling mess beneath him.

His fingers added a little more pressure, gathering more of her up and ticking up his pace. Dany's mouth was dry from how harshly her lungs were begging for air, stomach sucked in and muscles going taut with the stimulation.

When he plunged a finger into her heat, she gasped sharply, and he paused all movement. "You alright?" He asked sweetly, pecking the corner of her mouth.

Dany nodded frantically, lifting her hips to get him to move again. "I'm...I'm not gonna last much longer," she practically squeaked.

A devilish smirk took over his face. "I'd better get to work then," he declared, then made her pout as he lifted to his knees and stretched himself between the front seats, searching.

It didn't take long for it to click. "I'm on birth control," she told him, and she snorted at his visible relief.

He resumed his position and his head rolled back. "Thank the gods. Pretty sure they don't equip new cars with condoms and mine are all at the house."

Dany giggled and grabbed for him, wanting him closer. "Wait, this is a new car?" Now that she actually thought about it, it did have that lingering 'new car smell', but she'd been so preoccupied with his distinct scent and getting him naked that she didn't notice at first.

"Aye," he responded, nipping her neck, "everyone says cars are the worst investment, but…,” he laved his tongue over one of her nipples and made her groan, “I beg to differ."

Dany smiled with a hum and smoothed her foot over his leg, too pleased and distracted by his attentions to think of a witty retort. Instead, she responded by canting her hips and grinding over his cock, his forehead dropping between her breasts, his curly head lifting to see her out. He took himself in hand and pumped a few times before lining up, and drove home in one slide, making stars burst between her eyes and a cry out into the night air.

Jon’s face distorted with a muffled grunt, giving them both time to adjust. He blew out a few long breaths, but she was too needy and languidly rolled her hips, stretching her arms as far down as she could and filling each hand with his marble-soft cheeks, gently encouraging him to move. She was out of her mind delirious as he set a pace that had them each panting and sweating, the mechanics of his ass under the grip of her hands and the slight burn of his cock pumping from root to tip and filling her entirely.

His responding, wolfish grunt and groans spurred her on, and she could tell he was trying to be gallant and hold back, but by the way his muscles were tensed and his movements became erratic, plus the twisting of his beautiful face, he was ready to let go and she was ready to fall with him.

Dany tilted her hips so that he was grinding over her clit, which sent her in a restless frenzy below him, whimpering and moaning and squirming with the build. "Fuck," he breathed, eyes fixed on hers, his teeth clenching and jaw muscle flexing. Dany lifted her hand above her head and braced it against the door, the other carding through his hair. She gave a soft tug to his damp locks which he seemed to enjoy, if the way his hips were snapping against her was any indication.

“Jon…,” Dany warned, he throat constricting against any more words she thought to utter, but it was enough for him to understand, the corded lines of muscle prevalent in his arms as he steadied himself and ground into her, and she broke in fragmented gasps and pleas of his name, a second wave overwhelming her already tender body as he leapt right after her.

His head fell against her shoulder with throaty grunts and groans, thrusting and then stilling as he spent inside of her. It was music to her ears. Her arms weakly found him, securing themselves over his back and easing his tired body down onto hers. He went without protest, carrying the brunt of his weight on one knee so he didn’t entirely crush her,

Part of her foggy mind wished they'd waited the extra ten minutes and taken this back to one of their houses so they could sleep right then, but the other parts of it were too thrilled by the idea of just going for it. "How am I to get through the work day without wanting to lock you up in my office?” Dany mumbled against his shoulder, pressing a kiss thereafter.

A groggy huff left him, the warmth of his breath tickling up her neck. After a moment and finally evening his breaths, he lifted his head, several damp strands of springy black curls falling over his face. “I know of a few less populated conference rooms with far less windows that we could sneak off to,” he smirked, her hands lifting to smooth away some of his hair so she could get a better look at him. Then, his expression morphed into one of mock sternness. “To go over our presentations without interruptions, I mean.”

With one brow arched and a sleepy giggle, she asked, “and how long have you been dreaming of using said rooms for these particular “work” activities?”

Jon sucked air through his teeth. “Longer than I’d ever admit,” he confessed.

“Sounds like I ought to report you for indecent thoughts,” Dany muttered, her head rising to kiss him softly.

He sighed against her and thumbed away some hairs at her temple, speaking against her lips when he needed air. “S’pose we ought to get out of here before someone finds us and we get reported for public indecency.”

Dany nodded, a tiny motion, pecking his still-swollen lips. “Okay,” she whispered. He pulled out of her with a wince and when he sat up, she bit her lip, getting a fuller view of him. Or, as much as she could in the slightly cramped backseat of his car. He was too much to resist, and she was quickly snatching his shirt out of his hands before he could pull it on over his head. “Wait,” she said, straddling his lap and easing his frown as his hands slid up her ribs. She braced her hands on his shoulders, smiling devilishly while his pupils grew dark and fat with want. “Let’s do it again.”

[intheticklecloset]

Breaking the Ice (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Come on, the title for this is so perfect! Why can’t they all be this easy? I have to be honest and say this is probably one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. I actually wrote this story before the request came in, but it’s what they asked for, so here you go! Enjoy some ticklish Icy-Hot! ^^

~

Bakugou was angry with Todoroki.

Well, okay. To be fair, Todoroki couldn’t actually tell if Bakugou was angry with him or just generally angry at everything while staring intensely at him anytime he was in eyesight…all day long. Every time they ended up sharing the same space, the blonde’s eyes would lock onto him and glare until they went their separate ways again. It started that morning, happened all through class (Aizawa had to get after Bakugou a few times for being turned around in his seat like that), during lunch, and finally free time when they were released for the day.

Todoroki’s first thought was the school festival, when he’d tickled the blonde to hysterics right out in public where anyone could have seen them. But they hadn’t – at least to his knowledge. Had someone seen and said something to Bakugou? Was that why he was so angry? The longer the day went on, the more Todoroki thought it must be. He had no other reason to be so vindictive towards him.

Finally, after dinner, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up from the table, put his dishes in the sink, and turned back to his classmate. “Bakugou, may I speak with you when you’re finished?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he left the dining room and went back to his dorm.

Five minutes later, Bakugou was opening up without permission.

“Come in,” Todoroki said dryly, sighing. “Spit it out. Are you angry with me?”

“Furious.” The explosive teen closed the door behind him, still glaring. “You’ve managed to get your hands on me and make me lose my composure twice now. Twice! But you’ve never let me get my revenge for it.”

Todoroki was surprised, but he merely quirked a brow. “You never asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now.” Bakugou’s glare finally became something else for the first time that day – a wicked smirk. “No, actually, I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’m getting revenge, Icy-Hot.”

“Wait,” Todoroki said quickly, but Bakugou was already moving, grabbing onto his shirt collar and pushing him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he was forced to sit down. “Wait, Bakugou!” The blonde grinned evilly and swung a leg over to straddle him, shoving his shoulders to the mattress. Todoroki’s mind went blank. “Wait, waitwaitwait – please don’t!”

Much to his astonishment and relief, Bakugou stopped his forward momentum and merely paused, frowning down at him. “What’s the matter? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“It’s not that.” Todoroki shuddered a little. He’d never truly been on the receiving end of this kind of look from Bakugou before; it was disconcerting to say the least. “It’s just…I don’t…my family never really…did the tickling thing. I was never tickled growing up. I…I don’t even know if I am ticklish, and if I am, how much so. I…” Todoroki gulped and glanced away. “I know you’re rough and relentless, given what Midoriya has told me. I just…I don’t know if I can…”

Bakugou groaned. “You want me to take it easy? Are you serious?”

“Please,” Todoroki said quietly. “Just…until we know if I even am ticklish.”

“You’d better be ticklish,” Bakugou snapped, grabbing onto the half-and-half hero’s sides and digging in. Gently – but still with purpose. When the boy beneath him shuddered and brought his arms down reflexively, the atomic blonde’s grin became genuine. “Heh. Looks like you are.”

“C-Cahahareful,” Todoroki pleaded, his giggling quiet and breathy.

“You’ve seriously never been tickled before?”

Todoroki found he couldn’t reply for trying to process these foreign sensations shooting up and down his entire body, making him feel electric and wildly out of control with the slightest touch. He was aware his giggling wasn’t like the kind he’d heard from his friends, but he also found that he couldn’t control it to make it sound ‘normal,’ either. It just was, coming out in little huffs and chuckles while his body tried to squirm away from Bakugou’s hold on his sides.

“Tch, all right, newbie. How about here?” Bakugou switched to digging into his stomach, but Todoroki’s reactions didn’t change in the slightest. The blonde moved up to his ribs, even trying the spot that would make him lose composure in an instant if their roles were reversed. All the way until he grabbed Todoroki’s arm and pulled it above his head, the half-and-half’s reactions were the same.

But then Bakugou scribbled in his underarm, and the floodgates burst open.

Todoroki let out a yelp before exploding with laughter, clawing desperately at Bakugou’s arm with his free hand, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as sounds he couldn’t control spilled past his lips. “PFFTAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, NOHOHOHOHOHOHO, WAIT, THAHAHAT REHEHEHEHEHEALLY TICKLES!! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA--!!” He couldn’t even get his tormentor’s name out, he was laughing too hard.

“Does it?” Bakugou smirked. “I couldn’t tell. Stop punching me.” He paused just long enough to pin his classmate’s wrists together above his head and resume tickling. “That’s more like it.”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Todoroki’s laughter was potentially the purest sound Bakugou had ever heard. It was like a babbling brook, only intensified and much louder. “WAHAIT, PLEASE, BAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Growling at himself for being so nice, Bakugou did stop, but he kept Todoroki pinned down firmly as he caught his breath. When Icy-Hot pried his eyes open, they were lighter and brighter and happier than the atomic teen had ever seen them. More joyful even than the mimicked version of him that girl from another class had shown off to all those kids. It had taken everything in him to contain his laughter then. Now he couldn’t help but stare a little, awed by the transformation a simple tickling spell had cast on his friend.

“Seems like you’re pretty ticklish to me, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou teased with a smirk, beyond satisfied when he saw Todoroki’s cheeks flush pink in response.

“It appears I am,” he replied with a shy smile. “So much for taking it easy.”

“It’s not my fault your underarms are a hot spot. You’re lucky I’m being so nice. As soon as we’re done experimenting, I fully intend to destroy you for tickling me twice already. Once in public, even.”

Todoroki actually giggled at that, then averted his eyes. “Well, get on with it then, hothead.”

Bakugou’s brows shot into his hairline. “Getting arrogant, huh? Pretty bold move for someone who doesn’t know if the lower half is worse than the upper half.” With that, Bakugou scooted back just enough to access some new areas and then resumed his experimenting.

As it turned out, Todoroki’s hips were about the same level of ticklish as his sides and stomach had been, but drilling into his thighs made him spasm and laugh much like when his underarms were tickled. His knees gave almost no reaction at all.

Finally, Bakugou turned his back to Todoroki and straddled his calves, dragging his fingers up and down his soles. He was pleased to hear yet another yelp, followed by hysterical giggling and writhing. “Hmm…give me your feet, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou teased, pulling his classmate’s socks off so he could scratch and scribble along his bare skin. “I need to practice these pressure points.”

“CRAP, NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki’s laughter reached entirely new heights now that the protection of his clothing was gone. He flailed about on the bed like a fish out of water, shrieking and begging for mercy.

Unable to hide his enthusiasm, Bakugou grabbed the toes of his left foot and dug roughly into the space below them as well as up and down his arches. “Interesting!” he exclaimed mockingly as Todoroki threw his head back and screamed with laughter. “I added more pressure, yet this still seems to—”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Todoroki begged, completely helpless and lost to his mirth at this point. He pounded the bed desperately, nearly falling off once or twice in his attempts to escape. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“Hmm. Good spot, huh?” Bakugou scribbled wildly for several more seconds, then finally stopped and climbed off of his classmate, who instantly curled into a ball of giggles, gasping for breath. The blonde smirked. “Oh, yeah. I’m going to have a lot of fun with this, Icy-Hot.”

Todoroki covered his face with his hands, but Bakugou still noticed how his blush spread to his ears as he said, “Yeah, me too.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Bakugou grabbed Todoroki’s ankle and started scribbling again. “I said, what was that?”

“GAH!! Bakugou, nohohoHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki screeched, trying to sit up enough to push him away and failing miserably.

“Better tell me what you said.”

“ME TOO!! I SAHAHAHAHAHAID ME TOO!!”

Bakugou let his foot go, but dove for his sides, pinning his legs to the bed in the process. “You looking forward to getting wrecked by me again in the future? You’re just like Deku.”

“Ehehehehehehehehehe!” Now that it wasn’t his feet being tickled, Todoroki didn’t seem to mind that he’d been thrust back into a giggling fit again. “Plehehehehehease, Bakugou!”

“Please what?”

“Dohohohohohohohon’t!”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tehehehehehehehease me like thahahahahat!”

Bakugou’s grin became pure evil. “Oh, don’t tell me teasing gets you, too? Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

Where Deku’s laugh would have either grown more frantic or gone silent entirely, Todoroki’s laughter remained the same while his attempts to escape doubled and his blush darkened about ten shades. “I see. Strong, silent Todoroki isn’t used to getting teased like this, huh? Too bad for you I’m not very merciful when it comes to fighting with words.”

“Plehehehehehehease!”

“You seem to like this a lot for someone who didn’t even know if he was ticklish five minutes ago.”

“Agh, stahahahahahahahahap!”

“I will not stop.” Bakugou chuckled at the distressed noise Todoroki made. He shoved his hands back up into his underarms, grinning at the shriek that ripped from his friend’s throat. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~ Poor, ticklish Todoroki~ Can’t get away from me now, can you?”

Todoroki squealed. “PLEASE, OH MY GOHOHOHOHOHOD!! NO MOHOHOHOHORE!! MEHEHEHEHEHERCY!!”

“If you beg real nice for me, I might consider it.”

“YOU’RE THE WOHOHOHOHOHOHORST!!”

“The worst?” Bakugou laughed outright now, leaning down so he was speaking directly into Todoroki’s ear. “You like it.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, I GIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIVE!! STOP, BAKUGOHOHOHOU, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Fine.” Bakugou relented at last, releasing his hold on Todoroki and sitting up again. “Good thing you’ve stopped when I needed you to, otherwise I wouldn’t be showing you any mercy now.”

Todoroki spent a couple of minutes catching his breath, trying to regain some kind of composure but ultimately giving up and letting out another giggle. “I really am ticklish.”

Bakugou smirked. “Yeah, you are.”

“I’m glad,” the half-and-half hero admitted, finally pushing himself into a sitting position beside his friend. “I was kind of afraid I wouldn’t be, and then I’d be the silent, stoic guy that nobody could break.”

“You want people to break you?”

“Well…I enjoy tickling people I’m friends with. It didn’t seem fair if they had no way to get back at me, or just help me cheer up and relax.”

“So, what? You want me to go tell everyone I found out you’re extremely ticklish? You know they’ll come at you like a pack of wolves.”

Todoroki’s blush returned, so red it matched the scar on his face. He struggled to hold back a smile.

Bakugou stared at him, then grinned evilly. “Oh, you do want me to? Tch, don’t have to tell me twice!” With that, he leapt off of the bed, bolted to the door, and flew down the hall. “Hey, idiots! You’ll never believe this!”

Todoroki, meanwhile, felt his heartrate kick into overdrive, and the smile he’d been hiding broke out on his face in full force. He giggled again, then slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it. He didn’t know what he’d just gotten into, but he had a feeling the next few days were going to be exciting, full of new experiences and lots and lots of laughter.

[kirietown]

With a Smile | Part II

pairing: all might x f!reader

summary: After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly so did you. It came with the wait, didn’t it?

content: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, 18+, size kink, fwb

[part one] [part two] [ao3]

word count: 3.1K

The day he was injured by All for One was a disorienting day for you. There was a weakness to his form whilst he laid on the hospital bed, his hair in disarray and bandages covering his injury. Sir Nighteye had already left hours before you came. You stood by his side and held his hand, and it was only when he opened his eyes and turned to you did you realize how they now sunk into his skull.Your Toshi was a skeleton of a man you once knew. His pretty blues obscured by the shadows of his own face.

He smiled, nonetheless.

You frowned.

“M-my powers aren’t strong enough to help this Toshi,” you said. You couldn’t help but stutter over your words— always a bad habit for you, one you thought you’d outgrown long ago. Once again, he brought out the worst in you even wrapped in bandages and in a state beyond repair.

He smiled still.

“Toshinori,” you had said softly. “How can you smile… Even like this?”

The two of you were lovers only physically, but you were damned to let it stop you from caring for him— even if you couldn’t help but feel bitterness in your heart for his selflessness.

He only looked back at you with an upward tilt of his thick brows and said the words that always managed to dig a knife deeper into your chest whether you heard it in person or through your screen.

“Because I am here,” he said— and you wished he meant it was with you.

A sick part of you hoped that his injury would mark the retirement of the symbol of hope, but he continued his work much to your contemptment.

It made you feel guilty for reasons that you’d never share with anyone.

As the next few years went by, you watched his body crumble. Once big and strong, he’d gone thinner to a point where he was practically skin and bone due to his new diet because of his (lack of a) stomach. Miraculously, he was able to create a muscle form for himself for short periods of time— much to your annoyance. The world didn’t notice any changes, but they were all you could see. His speed was just the slightest bit slower, his voice raspier, and frankly it always seemed he had to punch more in order to knock out a particularly tough villain.

Your bedroom habits didn’t change much, but you felt that he couldn’t bear to look at you without seeing his own mangled reflection in the pools of your irises. His thrusts were still slow and sensual, his breaths more ragged and his hands less adventurous. On some occasions, it was as if he were looking at you with disgust whilst he rutted his hips into your cunt.

At first— it hurt.

But it wasn’t until a few months after his accident did you realize his disgust was towards himself; it took years, however, for the two of you to address it.

Your fingers danced around his narrow collar bones in fleeting touches. Your eyes were shut knowing that if you stared into his drenched face long enough he’d turn his head, dipping it into the cusp of your shoulder. You liked knowing that he was holding himself over you, the feeling of his short breaths and whispers coming from above. It was boring at times, but you loved being encased in his arms. In fact, over the years he became an addiction to you; you prayed that he would suspect such.

A few things had changed now of course, considering his new form. He was still just as tall but tired more easily now. Though now you found yourself able to wrap your legs around his hips and bring him deeper into you— much to both your delights. His narrow hips allowed him to fit more snugly between your legs than in the past which you can admit was always an awkward issue.

You were calm, welcoming the stretch of his cock inside you until you felt him push deeper. A awfully loud moan escaped your lips in an almost surprise and his hips jutted into you harshly for a few strokes. He ceased his movements and pulled out suddenly. You shivered and clasped your legs shut as you felt the cold air reach your wet core.

“Toshi?” You asked tentatively, reaching an arm out to the hero who’d turned his back on you.

“Why?” He asked. A million answers flooded through your mind in response to his question, all under different assumptions of what he could possibly be referring to.

“Because I need you more than they do, and I’ll take you in any way I can.”

“Why what?” Your tone was playful. You moved to lay on your side, the blanket only working to shield your lower half. For a few moments he didn’t reply, instead choosing to gaze towards the window wistfully.

“I’m disgusting,” he said curtly. “I’ll make you disgusting too.”

If you had half a mind, you would’ve said: You already have .

“How can you possibly be disgusting Toshi?” You asked, feigning a miffed tone. You didn’t want to confront this, not today at least— you wanted more time.

You could feel the air stiffen as he stood up, his face obscured from view. His shirt, that he always insisted remained on, obscured his upper body but you could still see his narrow shoulders visibly tense from your question.

“Don’t play coy with me, Y/N,” he whispered. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. I’m barely even a man anymore; I don’t know why you stick around anyways.”

“Where’s this talk coming from Toshi?”

“Just s-stop avoiding it!” He snapped harshly. His tone was lower than you’d ever heard it. Toshinori still stood before you, but his obscured irises were focused only on you. For once you couldn’t tell where the disgust for himself ended and yours began.

You could feel your inner thighs slicken with wetness from his cruel eyes alone.

“What do you want me to say Toshi?” You asked. “Do you want me to mock you? Tell you that you’re no longer good in bed? Or- or would you like me to go off on a self entitled rant about how I wasted my life on a man who’s been reduced to his weakest?” Your words were harsh and perhaps he didn’t deserve it for his words today, but your anger was a build up of emotions you allowed to fester since you were just a young girl.

“Is that how you really feel?” If you had the foolishness to feel more valuable than you were, you’d kid yourself into believing that you’d broken him.

“No Toshi,” you said honestly. Your voice was quiet and soft, on a different night he would’ve compared it to honey; but you knew that the words brushed against his ears like sandpaper. You were standing now. Your breasts pressed against his shirt, hardened and straining against the rough cotton fabric. Your head moved to rest just under his shoulder, even at his lowest he still stood tall. “But that’s only because you were always weak,” and with that your hand moved to caress his stunned face. Your fingers traced over the slopes of his cheekbone and jaw before it descended to his chest, planted fondly over his heart.

Even at your most cruel, you couldn’t help but feign as his lover.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” he replied and you wanted to mock him. Your words were daggers and even when you pierced his heart with them, it was as if it was in his nature to take the pain and wonder if it healed your own.

“You’ve never fucked me once,” you whispered.

“What?”

“You always treat me like your fucking lover!” You shoved at his chest, and even in his weak form you knew that the way he stumbled back on his feet was out of respect. “After years and years, you hold yourself back— like you’re afraid of your own passions. No— that’s not it. You want to prove to yourself that you’re not just some force of destruction, and you use our time together as some form of escapism from all the destruction and carnage you choose to deal with every day.”

“I don—“

“No,” you stopped him. “Don’t act like I can’t see it in your eyes— that I can’t feel it inside me; you always held yourself back from me, to feign tenderness and weakness because your strength was your insecurity. And now that that very might is fading, you can’t help but want to prove you’re still that man who can destroy buildings with the flick of his finger.”

“You’ve always been so full of these delusions you’ve had of me, Y/N,” he said calmly but you could tell his words were strained due to the shortening of his breath. “I’m not as complex as you believe me to be… And if your words are true then if nothing is holding me back, what’s stopping me now?”

“The moment you stop the tender caresses, the loving whispers, and slow breaths is the day you admit to yourself—“ and to me “— that that man is dead.”

He left your room shortly after, and this time you were left unsure if he’d return.

His second battle with All For One left a mark on everyone. That was one of the things you had slowly begun to resent about Toshinori; you could never truly mourn him alone. His retirement announcement was what left the most of an impression on you— All Might had stepped down after decades of victories, and five harrowing years of being tormented by an injury that you could’ve dug your fingers into and truly ended his career.

His visit a few days after the victory was what truly did you in, however.

You had only opened the door when his body effortlessly dove down to press his lips to yours. In your state of surprise, you gasped allowing his tongue to push against yours. Instinctively your arms moved to circle around his shoulders. You couldn’t recall a time where his actions were this frenzied, and his shaking so feverish. You felt Toshinori’s hands squeeze your ass and shove you closer before sliding his digits under to cup your thighs. Following his hints, you leapt, your legs moved to circle around his waist, his fingers dug into the back of your bare thighs, your shorts had long since ridden up.

Questions buzzed around your head as he stumbled with carrying you— something that was never a problem for him in the past. You knew that if you spoke anything you said would sway him; you weren’t ready to lose him again. You barely noticed he had managed to hold you long enough to bring you to your dining room. A moan of pain crept out of your throat as he carelessly dropped out onto your wooden table, the thin table cloth doing nothing to protect your elbows as they made contact with the hard surface. You couldn’t help but look to his eyes, as if to check if he was bothered by your discomfort. Typically any form of pain you expressed would be enough to halt his movements; the idea of hurting you in any way was just always too much to bear.

His breaths were shallow when he finally removed his lips from yours. You couldn’t be sure if his ragged pants were from the strain of overworking himself or his rabid need; for now you didn’t care.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His large hand moved to squeeze your jaw tightly. You didn’t speak— you felt embarrassment at the way your cheeks squished under his fingers. “You just want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you?” His fingers squeezed particularly tighter, and in spite your moan of pain you could feel the familiar sensation of arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

With no regard for your comfort, the retired hero flipped you onto your stomach. Your ass and legs sticking out from the side of the table as he harshly grounded his clothed cock into you. The force caused your pelvis to painfully dig into the wood of the table. Though the pain wasn’t enough to distract you from the feeling of Toshinori pulling down your shorts. With only a shaky sigh escaping your lips, his fingers harshly groped your cheeks, spreading them roughly before shoving his fingers into your core. A gasp of pain shot out of your lips, the intrusion only making your hips to dig further into the rough wood.

You felt like a mess. You were panting uncontrollably as his large fingers fucked into your gushing cunt. To gain some control, you planted your elbows on the table, to lift your skull only for Toshinori to remove the hand that was gripping your hip. He shoved your head down without the slightest sense of hesitation. His fingers were thick around your head, his other one girthy inside your cunt, their speed quick as they dug into you whilst thrashing around in scissor motions. You could feel the familiar sensation bubbling deep inside you, but it was happening too soon, and it felt like too much all at once.

“I-it’s too much Toshi,” you managed to gasp.

Then it all stopped.

Your core was replaced with only emptiness, and all the moments where he halted because he had gone too far and ceased his movements played in your head. You wished you hadn’t opened your mou—

“A-agh!” The stuttered moan tumbled out of your lips repeatedly. You could feel the veins of his cock pulse inside you whilst your hips dug into the table.

“Is it too much now?” He mocked, and you could practically feel him harden more as he drilled himself into your wet cunt. His hips repeatedly knocked you further into the table. The wet slaps of your bodies colliding nearly obscuring the sound of the wooden legs scraping your floor. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You only moaned, his thrusts only increased in pace, and his hand only held your head down harder as his fingers curled through your hair. “I want you to say it— say that you wanted me to fuck you dirty.”

“N-no,” you managed to say before a particularly hard thrust caused an embarrassingly loud squeal to escape your throat.

“Say it!”

“I ne-needed you to f-fuck me—d-dirty,” you gasped.

“You’re disgusting, ” he raved. “Allowing yourself to be fucked by someone who looks like me… You’re so pathetic.” At his words you could feel his cock reach a particularly spongy spot inside you, tapping and tapping it repeatedly. A familiar bubbling sensation returned as continuous moans jumped out your throat. “I can feel you getting tighter— ack,” he paused in his words to rut deeper into your heat. “You’ve been chasing me fo-for years, hounding me for this, getting fucked by your washed up hero .”

You felt yourself clench, squeezing your cunt around his cock as he kept up his pace. The sensation of your pelvis rutted against the table turned numb, you could only feel him stretching your walls, and the curl of your toes as he brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“You’re more pathetic than I am.” His words were raspy, you could practically feel his tongue on your ear as he had pulled you back by your hair and lowered his lips to say the words you’d been thinking since you first laid your eyes on him. Your cunt pulsed as it squeezed around his cock, sucking him in deeper. Your moans only grew louder as you came, squirting down his balls and likely staining your panties that had only been pushed to the side.

Toshinori had only paused, and allowed for the feeling of your orgasm to clench around him before continuing his thrusts. A low groan bubbled out of his throat from the feeling of your tired cunt milking all its juices. It wasn’t long before he chased his own high, his release shot deep into you. Its warmth fluttered into your lower stomach, and suddenly you were hyper aware of the pain in your abdomen. When he finally pulled out and allowed you to stand on shaky legs, you felt the pain from the table intensify. You groaned before leaning back on the table, pulling your tank top up to inspect small bruising from the repeated slams.

Before you could even think to use your quirk to heal it, Toshinori’s hand gently caressed your lower belly tenderly before bringing you closer to his chest. Rather than shake him off and remind him of your ability, you allowed him to hold you and rub you softly. Perhaps you both shared the same comfort that came with pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His expression morphed into one of resentment, it was as if he gained clarity— or his words were simply out of obligation. “I didn’t mean to go too far… I-I hurt you… and those awful things I said… No woman should have to hear.”

“Well I wanted to hear it,” you replied. Slowly you turned, his hand resting on your hip, “I loved that side of you… Now that you’ve officially retired, perhaps I could see more of it… And of you.” Your (s/c) fingers danced over his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him down towards you.

“I-I could set more time aside in my schedule for us,” he stuttered. An adorable blush coated his cheeks as you brought him closer. His nose kissing yours whilst you only hummed in reply. “I want to make up… for all the time we should’ve spent together.” His words were now only a murmur, a ghost of the man who had just fucked you and left bruises over your thighs and stomach from his roughness.

“I would like that,” you whispered.

The words you wished to say were crushed down your throat as your lips met. Gone was the feral passion, and instead in its place were love and words that had long since turned empty for you. It took you years, but you knew, you always knew that one day you’d be the only one he could turn to when it came to little deaths.

As he caressed your waist and held you close to his heart, you couldn’t help but brush your fingers over the fabric that which covered his scar. A swirling tunnel of black and green, your fingers hovered over it for a moment before sliding up to feel his heart beat. Years of patience led to this moment, and the guilt subsided— but you knew it would always eat away at your stomach like a wound, just like his.

“Toshi,” you said. “I should be the one saying sorry,” (because I lied to you all those years ago). He only shushed you, and held you impossibly closer.

“My...” quirk... I thought you would’ve retired... “I hoped...” for it... I’m as selfish as you are selfless...

“Shush Y/N,” he cooed softly. “It doesn’t matter now, what matters is we’re here— nothing holds me back from you... I love you; I always loved you.”

“But,” you paused— you thought better on it. Stilling your ragged breathing, you inhaled his scent before rubbing your cheek into his chest. “I love you too...”

“I know...” He murmured. “I know... It’s okay...” His words caused you to pause— something shifted in your stomach and for an instance you wondered if the pain paralleled his own. A digging in your gut; one you may have deserved. No— he couldn’t have known, and if he did... it didn’t matter now. You finally had him in your arms— even for just this moment.

After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly, so did you.

It came with the wait, didn’t it?

—

send requests 🥳

[wing-ed-thing]

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part IV)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,429

Warnings/Tags: @tiktoktheclockisticking​ Bullying, Language, ANGST CITY, Alcohol, Side Iruka x Reader, Fem!Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I’m fully expecting to get messages in my inbox that range drastically in forcefulness. Perhaps a “how dare you” or two. 

You stood outside of Shushu-ya, almost as if you expected to be told to come in. A silly notion. With a heavy sigh, you clenched the warped gift in your hands, starting to regret the shoes you wore among other things. But you know you couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t miss Iruka’s birthday. Your reluctant hand grasped the door and before you could chicken out, you heaved it open.

The group was easy to spot, even in Shushu-ya’s dim lighting. Everyone gathered around the bar. A few people sat in a large, open booth. The crowd made you nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of relief. You weren’t the first one there. Iruka spotted you immediately and waved you over. You took a sharp inhale before forcing yourself across the restaurant with a smile. You were, at the very least, glad to see him.

Iruka got up from his spot at the end of the extensive, circular seating and greeted you warmly. Knowing him, he sat at the end just to see people come in the door. He extended his arms to you in a hug. You happily embraced him. It had been quite some time since you got to spend any quality time with your friend. You handed him his present.

“As usual, you’re always so thoughtful.” Iruka pursed his lips, a sentimental expression coming upon him. Even still, the corners of his lips turned upward into that classic Iruka grin. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday, Iruka. Of course I’m going to get you something nice.”

Iruka motioned for you to sit down and carefully placed your gift in the pile he had accumulated. You took a seat among two ninjas who you only knew by name. Iruka sat down next to who you were fairly sure you recognized as Kakashi of the Sharingan. The mask made it difficult to tell. You took your place next to Might Guy, the Leaf’s Green, Taijutsu Beast. You looked over to Iruka and wondered how he made such powerful friends. You supposed it was hard to not be acquainted with any famous shinobi in Konoha. Perhaps that’s what happened when you weren’t afraid to talk to people. You spied a few more of your colleagues around the bar, including your teammates from the last mission you took. They didn’t seem particularly pleased about your presence, but no one was going to impulsively make a fuss in front of Iruka.

You kept your head down and that’s where it stayed. The conversation went, for the most part, without you. You ordered a water quietly. You weren’t the type to drink, especially when you were as on edge as you were in this particular setting. The waiter set down your glass, making a sort of a sour face. You stared at the clear liquid, supposing that not many ordered water from a bar.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” You looked up into Kakashi’s intense eye. “You know you’re not on the clock, right?” He chuckled and you nervously laughed with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” Iruka rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own drink. His kind gaze found yours. “You can do whatever you want, just know that the tab is already taken care of.” He looked past you and waved towards the bar. The bartender waved back.

“No, no. I completely understand!” Guy wrapped an arm around you, holding you a bit too close for the volume of his voice. You immediately let go of your drink. Your eyes went wide as he shook you with every word. “You gotta watch out for that hangover! Very smart! I commend you!” Kakashi tsked, tilting his head towards Iruka.

“Such a bad host, letting her sit next to Guy like that.” Iruka laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess the seat was open for a reason.” Guy pouted at the discourse across the table, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Nonsense! Tease me all you like but I just know that… uh…” He turned to you with an outstretched hand and as much embarrassment as Might Guy was capable of. “What was your name again?” You took his much larger hand in yours and spoke your name, realizing that you hadn’t prior. He immediately shouted your name as if to commit it to memory, shaking you even harder than before. His shout got the attention of the rest of the booth and you suddenly your self consciousness skyrocketed. “—and we’re going to be best friends by the time the night is over! What do you think? You down for a party?” And suddenly you were expected to respond. You glanced around nervously.

“Um, yeah. Sure thing… I just think it’s really nice how everyone’s together.” Despite your response, you still felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Sweat began to bead on your brow and your palms. You crossed your legs. “I feel like everyone’s always on missions so it’s nice to be among friends. And um, I can drink to that.” You glanced around the table once more, to Guy, to Kakashi, and then Iruka. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I couldn’t say it better myself.” You raised your water weakly.

“Happy Birthday, Iruka.” Iruka raised his glass of sake and a roar went around the booth and extended to the bar. Someone hastily ordered a round of shots for the whole group. They came quickly, likely due to whatever likely large tip Iruka gave to the bartender.

One slid across the hard surface over to you. You gripped it between your fingers. The alcohol went down your throat with a steady burn. You let out a gasp with a bat of your eyes. The aftertaste of the ethanol burned your nasal cavity. Kakashi let out a deep laugh. Guy patted you hard on the back causing you to cough. Iruka smiled, ordering another round. You took another shot. People filtered in the door. And as the night went on, the three of you took to greeting Iruka’s guests along with him. The party crew quickly overtook the bar. A dull roar overtook Shushu-ya.

More words spilled from your mouth than you thought ever would in one sitting. Your three colleagues listened to you intently, jovially, and exchanged stories of their own. A small crowd gathered around your booth, members flitting from the bar and back. And for once in your life, people actually listened to you. You told your stories animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis. You took in the smiles around you, tales of missions and edgy impressions flying from your lips. Distracted, you hardly noticed the looks exchanged by your old teammates as they leaned against the low back of the booth.

“And I said, ‘You don’t need a rag, you need a towel’!” All those gathered around you burst out in hysterics. You felt the low rumble of Guy next to you. Iruka couldn’t pick his head up from the table. Kakashi yanked him up by his collar, revealing Iruka’s red, cackling expression. Kakashi snorted, dropping the cloth under his hand to cover his own face as he mocked his longtime friend. Joyful tears were still welled in your eyes when a slender hand clamped onto your shoulder.

You looked behind you only to become face to face with the kunoichi from your team. Her ever prevalent scowl remained plastered to her lips but they swiftly upturned into a sickly sweet smile.

“Hey, why don’t you tell everyone about our last mission? Or should I say, your last mission.” Your eyes widened and a chill coursed down your spine, remembering her unforgiving grasp on your hair following your meeting with the Hokage. You clenched your fists underneath the table, balling up the fabric of your clothing. What did she want from you? She crinkled her nose at you smugly. “Shy all of the sudden? That’s okay, I can tell it.” You heard Kakashi clap his hands together. You jumped.

“I’m always down for a good mission story,” He admitted eagerly. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, this one’s not very interest—” Another hard slap on your shoulder. Her nails dug into your shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think they’ll all find this very interesting.” The kunoichi settled into her spot behind you, shifting her weight as she leaned forward. With a finger, she pointed out your two other team members. “See we were assigned with this one to find a scroll in a territory suspected of being owned by Orochimaru. ‘Cause she’s a wonder at blending in, right? That’s what we were told. And of course you know how these things go. Of course we find someone. Some bitch of Orochimaru—”

And as she described it, you could remember the scene vividly. Your teammates were reckless in their fighting and overall poor choices for a stealth mission. Flashy jutsu corrupted the frame of the underground system. The walls began to crack and shake. Your enemy had been caught off guard and outnumbered. Seeming to be already injured, there was only so much he could do to fight back. That was how you met Kabuto Yakushi.

“And so she doesn’t even warn us that the tunnel is, like, about to collapse. Some freak earthquake or something. So the enemy is knocked out cold and we’re running and running to try to find a way out and—”

You dove towards him. You didn’t know what drew you towards him in the first place but that’s what you did. As your team left without you, you tried your best to save the young ninja who had to only be as old as you. You tried to drag him but either you were too frail or he was too heavy. Your second option. Your hands ignited in healing jutsu, flickering on and off. You were by no means a healer, but your only thought in your panic was to get him awake. And as the maze of tunnels imploded around you, your world went black.

“So we don’t see her for days. You know, we think she’s dead. So in the meantime, we check out the other places on our list. Nada. We’re about to completely give up and then, wouldn’t you know, this one shows up having spent almost a week in enemy territory holding the exact thing we were looking for. Zero scratches and she apparently ‘doesn’t remember’ anything about it. Don’t you think that’s funny?” The kunoichi motions to your other teammates.

“I remember it being very funny,” One huffs, arms crossed. The small surrounding crown had gone silent. You dared to look across the table. Kakashi sat with his arms on the table, wordless. Iruka pursed his lips, equally expressionless. He cleared his throat. An awkward overtone laced the atmosphere.

“Well I think that’s enough of that—”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Almost there, though, I promise.” The kunoichi held up her hand. “‘Cause wouldn’t you know it? When we got back to the village, we found out that the scroll was a fake.”

“Well,” You squeaked, “Later we did find out that it was authentic after all—”

“But that was later,” She snapped. She ruffled your hair roughly, giving your head a slight push as she finally took her hands off of you. “Still doesn’t explain where you got it from.” She leaned in towards your ear. “Traitor.”

“Okay that’s enough.” Iruka stood from his seat. He extended his arm towards the door. “You three have clearly had too much to drink. I think it’s time for you to go home.” The kunoichi scoffed.

“We haven’t had too much of anything,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes and opened her mouth to say more. Guy turned with the most serious expression you had seen from him all night.

“He’s giving you an out. I suggest you take it.” He told her and apparently, that’s all it took for them to leave.

Iruka apologized for your team’s behavior but said nothing more about it for the rest of your time present. Most of the partygoers stuck to the bar now. Everything was off and you knew it would be as long as you were there. Your friends could hardly look you in the eye properly. You remained for a little while longer, starting to feel dreadfully sober. And when you thought you wouldn’t draw too much attention, you announced that you were leaving.

“Let me walk you out.” Guilt rattled around in your chest. It was Iruka’s birthday and you ruined it, just like you thought you would. And yet, he still offered to walk you out.

You allowed it, suddenly finding yourself standing outside of Shushu-ya, Iruka by your side. Even as the door closed behind you, you could hear the sound of Konoha’s nightlife. You waited for Iruka to speak, but the weight on your shoulders became unbearable.

“I’m not leaving because of you, you know. I had a good time. I really did, so go back in there and know that, okay?” You tried to read his face. He looked conflicted and the pounding of your heart only increased.

“I just want you to know that you have a friend. Eh, friends. No matter what.” You blinked at him a few times. You didn’t like how he said that last part.

“No matter what?” You let out a nervous laugh for the umpteenth time that night. Your eyes wandered erratically. “What do you mean by that?” You were expecting some reassurance, but none came. Your mind filled in the blanks. You took a step back. He took a step forward. “No matter if I sold out the Leaf? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I-I didn’t say that.” He stammered. Suddenly frantic. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” You gripped onto your strap bag. Another step back. Another step forward.

“I don’t think you sold out the Leaf. Not on purpose.” The tail end of that sentence stung. You began to tremble. Another person who thought that you were a traitor. “Listen, I had a student once. He’s out of the Academy now but he was in your shoes once.” You couldn’t look at him. You focused on your shoes, the shoes you’ve regretted wearing. “I know how guys like that are. I know how manipulative they can be, how they can convince you into doing something that you know you don’t want to do.” Your head snapped up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t convinced to do anything wrong by anyone.”

“I know how kind you are. I know that you had a good heart. No one’s going to blame you if someone took advantage of that. I don’t care what happened. We’ve known each other forever. I’ll always be here for you.” Iruka gently placed his hands on your shoulders and his forehead against yours. You became cognisant of how violently you quaked. You didn’t even register his confession. The sharp burning between your eyes threatened to spill over into tears.

“Iruka, please stop. Just tell me that you believe me.” You gripped onto his forearm, wanting to feel a semblance of comfort. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I do believe you.” Unconvincing. You looked into his eyes, salty droplets now silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Iruka nodded against you without a word. A beat. You gulped. “And Kabuto didn’t either.”

He pulled away, trying to fight a frown from crossing his face. You could see it. The realization morphing his features. Iruka tried his best not to show any of his mixed emotions, but he was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Who? The bingo book ninja?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. He always did that when he was nervous. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. D-didn't do anything wrong.” Once again, unconvincing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. Please, uh, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t look back. You ran home.

***

When you got to your apartment, you dropped to the floor. You scrambled for a kunai to pry open the floorboard. Throwing the plank aside, you plucked out the scroll. Unraveling it, you bit your finger, smearing your blood across the summoning symbol.

You were already starting to scurry off when Kabuto appeared. You walked right through the white cloud of smoke. He felt troubled, but that wasn’t something you picked up on. Kabuto immediately pulled out a scalpel in defense, ready for an emergency fight. You didn’t even tell him to lower his weapon. You didn’t blink twice. You stormed straight to your wardrobe, yanking out a large travel bag.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going out tonight.” Kabuto asked, but you ignored him, stuffing belongings inside the bag. You skittered frantically around the room, pulling sentimental belongings from your drawers and off your shelves. Kabuto looked on helplessly as you muttered to yourself. He could hardly catch you with how erratically you darted around your small living space. With enough calculation, he caught you, grabbing you by your wrists. You struggled against him. “Hey, hey, hey slow down. Tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him, rivulets still flowing from your eyes.

“Please, Kabuto,” You begged. “Let’s run away together.”

His immediate response was to let go of you, stumbling a bit backwards.

“What?” His mouth went dry.

“I—” You couldn’t even get your thoughts straight. You just spoke, everything spilling out of you. —“Please take me away from here.” Ever-suave, Kabuto found himself panicked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people for one thing—” You met his eyes, but in your haze you missed all that they told. You saw complete and utter rejection.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me that you’re not my enemy? You’re all I have.” Betrayal. If Kabuto could name the expression that washed over your face that would be it. You wiped the wetness from your skin with your sleeve. “Please, you know I would be quiet. You could have any of my books. I don’t even care about shoes on my bed. I don’t even need a bed just please let’s go right now!”

And for all of his big talk, Kabuto was at a loss. He wanted to. More than anything he wanted to scoop you off of your feet then and there, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring you to Orochimaru. You were supposed to be here in the Leaf. You belonged here in the Leaf. This was where you could be happiest, not on the run with him. He’s caused enough damage to your life.

“I can’t.” That was all he managed to make out without his voice cracking. And as he looked into your large, wet eyes, his heart shattered.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I-I can’t. I—” He kicked himself. —“You’ll be happier here.”

“I’ll be happier with you,” You pleaded. You balled up your hands in the front of his shirt. “Please, I love you.” Kabuto diverted his eyes from yours, clenching them shut.

“No, you don’t.” He placed his hands over yours, gingerly trying to remove you from him but you stood firm. “You’re drunk. I’m sure that if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’m not drunk!” You argued, getting even more desperate than you already were. “You told me to gather up some nerve so here it is! I love you! Please let’s go, just you and me. We can start over—” And with a few quick hand signs, you fell asleep.

Kabuto’s hand hovered over your forehead. He could see your fear, feel it too. He caught you as you began to collapse and brought you over to the bed. Knowing your recovery speed, the jutsu wouldn’t last for long. Perhaps it would last a half hour, maybe less. Anyone else and he would have expected them to be out for the rest of the night. He covered you with your blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, ready to recast his spell when you began to come to for the rest of the night. He knew that if you kept talking, he would have done exactly what you asked. Kabuto buried his head in his hands and uncharacteristically, for the first time in years, began to sob.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[dreamiguess]

Day???: Coronation

A late submission for @fundyfiles FWT week. 

Summary:

Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely.

On AO3: divine rights

“I shouldn’t have found out from your father.”

No. He shouldn’t have.

“Found out what?” Fundy lies, thin as silk and half as smooth.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he answers, the ice in his voice melting. The disappointment is worse than the steel, and he feels as if he were to peel back another layer he would find nothing but raw hurt. Because it hurts, doesn’t it? For Fundy more than anyone else, maybe. Dream would come at a close second. He stares at the floor somewhere between them, not ready to face either.

“I didn’t know how.”

It’s a half answer to a question that wasn’t asked, tired and barely audible. He hadn’t known how to process it for himself either, with one sleepless night to churn the news in his head over and over again before preparations for the ceremony began. The work made it easier at least, kept him too busy to think or feel. But standing in front of the captain, his captain, in an empty hallway, there is nowhere to escape it. As the silence settles between them, he finds the courage to look up.

Dream looks vulnerable, too vulnerable to be out in the open like this. He wears only a half plate and sword belt, still more lethal than most would be in full iron but it looks unnatural for him to be patrolling the castle in anything but. It’s standard off duty garb, but it’s too fitting for him to still protect his heart at a time like this. He had pulled his mask to the side, and it’s more intimate than if he were completely naked, green eyes staring him down. They’re not angry, though, and he thinks that’s what breaks him.

“It was supposed to be Tommy.”

He’s in Dream’s embrace before the first tear can hit the ground, cries muffled in his shoulder before they can echo against the stone walls. It’s terribly improper, to be seen in the arms of a soldier, especially in such a public place. Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely. Even as the tears subsides he can’t bring himself to step back, just moves so the crown of his head is pushed into Dream’s chest instead of his face.

“It was supposed to be Tommy,” he repeats.

It was always supposed to be Tommy. On the surface level, he was a direct descendent rather than a grandson. But more than that, he was charismatic and loud, had strong opinions and voiced them frequently. He was loyal to a fault and way too sharp for his age. Most importantly, though, he wanted crown prince and, one day, the throne. Fundy wanted a street kid who climbed the ranks too swift and too violent.

With war brewing in the South, his Majesty was forced to choose the next successor far too early, and Tommy is still too young and brash for that weight to be placed upon his shoulders.

It haunts them. Laying in bed at dusk, a luxury they only allow themselves on the darkest halcyon nights, and tracing patterns down Dream’s back. He savors the moment, lets it melt in his ribcage and swallow him whole.

“What does this mean for us?” he asks, as if he wasn’t the one who should know better than anyone. They both know what he’s talking about, the glass shards lying on the floor for them in the morning.

“The end, probably.” Dream lifts his head enough to look Fundy in the eye. One would think he’d have forgotten how to hide his emotions after wearing a mask so long, but his face is as guarded as if he hadn’t taken it off at all. It’s a privilege, a blessing even, to see it at all and one he doesn’t take for granted. He venerates every scar and treasures each freckle, because he’s beautiful even if Dream himself cannot see it.

“You can’t marry below your station anymore.” He rolls to his back and sighs. “And if your uncles do not, you’ll be expected to produce an heir.”

Fundy can’t help but laugh.

“You really think they won’t?” he asks, disbelieving. It earns him a smile.

“Still. I have no noble blood.”

“Fuck the nobles.”

Like sin it follows them to the training grounds, dancing around it lest they reveal too much to the knights nearby.  The entire family is expected to be military leaders in the event of conflict, and now doubly so for Fundy. Who better to practice with than their rising combat specialist?

“I’m on duty for the coronation,” he mentions over the clash of their practice swords. Fundy wants him to use steel, to put his life in the hands of his love and trust him fully and recklessly. The captain always refuses.

“I feel infinitely safer,” Fundy replies, pulling his weapon back and aiming for a slash to his side.

“I am honored to bring you peace of mind, your highness.” He blocks the attack and catches the blade with the hilt of his sword, turning his wrist to fling the broadsword from the prince’s grip. Before Fundy can react there’s a hand in his tunic and a swift heel sweeping his right leg off the ground completely. Dream lowers him to the dirt slowly, only truly letting him fall a foot at most. He falls all the same. The tip of his sword is cold underneath Fundy’s chin, it’s wielder haloed by sunlight above him. The instinct to bare his neck is too strong and Fundy is too weak, and he doesn’t have enough shame to delight in the way Dream swallows at the action.

“I yield.”

He takes the hand that’s offered, staring into the mask’s eyes the whole time. Their hands stay clasped for far longer than necessary because they’re equally terrible, it seems.

“I’m thinking about taking the promotion.” Dream drops his hand and turns to retrieve his discarded weapon, leaving Fundy to reel in his shellshock.

“For General?” He asks mechanically, another question they both know the answer to. He’s had a lot of them lately, and this time Dream doesn’t even respond. Just strides back to their arena and extends the handle out, ungloved hand wrapped around the blade in a mirroring act of faith. They’ve put their stone sword in the hand of Themis to balance her scales on, where the head that wears the crown rests opposite the hand that bears the shield. The power to absolutely ruin, offered freely.

Fundy doesn’t take it at all.

“I hate to leave early, but I feel a bit faint after that fall. Would you escort me back to the castle?”

Dream bows his head, never one to slip from their polished act.

“Of course, your highness. I should have been more careful.” After returning their equipment and strapping his swordbelt – his real swordbelt – back into place, Dream falls into step with him out of the arena.  The October air is kind to them, leaving goosebumps where sweat had stained their skin just moments before. It’s peaceful for a few minutes, as morning doves and starlings steadily replace the ringing of steel and their gentle footsteps drown out the thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Time slowed since Dream broke the news to him, far too casual for something they had discussed for far too long, and Fundy can almost believe that the route he’s taken isn’t far too long to lead back to the castle.

“I thought you,” he starts once they’re well beyond hearing distance. “I thought you wanted to remain a captain.”

It’s difficult to phrase what he wants to say. Fundy is not Dream’s keeper and for his love’s sake if nothing else, he won’t act like one. He wants to, though, wants to hold on to him like a child and repeat every debate they’d considered since the offer was made. I thought it was too dangerous. I thought it was too much responsibility, you liked your squadron too much, hated meetings. I thought, I thought, I thought.

And of course, the drumming song beneath it all: I thought you wouldn’t leave me.

“I’ve always been a strategist,” he replies, voice too even to be genuine. A sigh escapes him, and he entwines their fingers and lets his head rest ever so slightly on Fundy’s shoulder. He’s living in the illusion, Fundy can tell, basking in the feeling of lovers talking a walk on an Autumn day. The prince can see right through him, can taste every thought he’ll never acknowledge, much less share.

“And the position needs to be filled sooner rather than later.”

This is what he means: We need to end, and I can’t stay if I can’t have you. He means to save Fundy from himself, to cut the chord so Fundy can’t try to keep him. To force Fundy to follow the rules.

“Bullshit.” He surprises himself with the outburst. “Leaving for some war won’t make me stop loving you. You don’t need to fucking protect me,” he throws their connected hands in the air and fights for words. “Protect me from-“

Dream tugs free before he can finish, unclasps his mask and throws it to the forest floor without even looking. He cups Fundy’s face in both hands, eyes shining with renegade tears.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” He sounds broken and Fundy feels it like glass. There are too many things he should say so he says nothing at all, wraps a hand into the collar of his shirt like a man possessed and pushes until Dream’s back hits the tree and he can’t get any closer. He kisses him like he’s dying, kisses him like the world is ending, like they’re already on their future battlefields and Dream is his only lifeline.

The coronation arrives all too fast. He lives in a limbo between the grand hall and his chambers, between the seamstress and the head chef. The ceremony is beautiful, with green and gold filling the room and glass sparkling in the setting sunlight. He’s reached a state of calm he hadn’t believed possible only two weeks ago, looses himself in the dull ache of kneeling and the rhythmic voice of their Sage. No matter how foreign the crown feels, he doesn’t have to lie as he repeats the oath; he loves the kingdom, can swear to benevolence, to serve the people. The promises settle deep in his bones. The responsibilities, the service, was never really his problem.

“I present to you your crown prince,” the vicar finishes, and Fundy stands to face the people. He’d practiced the ceremony, knows he’s supposed to wait for quiet to settle once more and kiss his grandmother’s hand, to bow before his Majesty and show humility. Instead, he walks straight back down the aisle in long strides to where the guards are posted at the doors. The murmurs and gasps don’t matter, have faded from his awareness completely by the time he reaches Dream. And with sure hands, he pushes the stupid mask up enough to free the bottom half of his face and buries a hand in blonde hair, and finally falls into his love. He kisses him gently, and gentler when his love unfreezes enough to return the affection. In front of his father and his father before him and anyone else who cared to show up, Fundy claims his divine right.

Fuck the nobles.

[devendrasbeard]

Promises In Silk And Lace

Prompt: Lingerie Relationship: Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert Rating: E Content warnings: smut, polyamorous relationship, M/M/M threesome, just a lot of smut, Jaskier in lingerie :> Summary:  It's Yule, so Jaskier has prepared a very special present for his Witcher boyfriends. That special present being him, of course!

Also on ao3!

"Jaskier, can you keep a secret?" Priscilla leaned to him after Jaskier sat at their table in the tavern after his evening performance.

"I don't know if I should feel offended by your assumption that I don't keep secrets or let it slide, because you got my curiosity," Jaskier replied, eyeing her with interest. "Tell me."

"I've found this incredible place," Priscilla stirred in her seat. "A seamstress works there and she makes the most otherworldly creations you've ever seen!"

"Why is her work a secret, though?" Jaskier asked, taking a sip of his mead. "Shouldn't she be famous and obscenely rich by now?"

"That's the thing," Priscilla leaned closer to him. "Her creations are... indecent to say the least," she hummed while raising a brow. "The fabrics, the way the materials work on one's body seem to be designed only for one purpose... The barons and viscounts don't want her around, lest she awaken some lewd desires in their wives and daughters..."

Jaskier slapped the table with his open hand. "Take me there first thing in the morning!"

*****

And so on the day of Yule Jaskier was lying stretched out on the bed, clad in his new set of lingerie, bought from the mysterious seamstress. She didn't use much fabric while creating the perfect ensemble for Jaskier, but it was more than enough. The silks and laces in cerulean blue were clinging to his body like second skin, providing pressure in all the right places, accentuating his curves and bringing out his more feminine features. He buzzed with excitement at the thought of showing himself to his boyfriends. Thinking about their reactions - and what they’d do to him - after seeing him like this made him aroused.

Eskel and Lambert entered their shared room and Jaskier almost jumped up from the excitement and arousal already bubbling under his skin. He got out of bed wearing a delicate long robe made out of silk in a deep dark blue color, hemmed with intricate golden lace.

"Slept in?" Lambert joked, eyeing the rather unusual piece of clothing on Jaskier.

"Au contraire," Jaskier replied and gave each of his Witchers a delicate kiss on the lips. "I went out shopping and brought you a little something," he sung, grabbing their hands and leading them to sit on the edge of their bed.

Eskel looked up at him, one brow raised. "Hope you didn't get into any trouble again?"

But Jaskier only waved him off. "Happy Yule, my boys!" Jaskier chirped, standing in the middle of the room. He took a dramatic pose and stretched out his arms. "Ta-dah! Here's your present!"

"Okay... What is it then? Or where is it?" Lambert asked, equally dumbfounded and curious.

Jaskier pointed both of his thumbs at his face with a grin. "Me! It's me, I'm the present!"

Lambert snorted and rolled his eyes. "Should've fucking expected that..."

"Now, now," Jaskier raised his hands. "Before you start grunting, I want to assure you, this is nothing like what you've seen before."

"Well then," Lambert replied with a sarcastic grin. "Surprise me."

Jaskier took a few steps forward, standing just a foot away from his boyfriends, shaking a little with excitement. He inhaled deeply and then dropped the dark blue robe to the floor in a swift motion. Eskel and Lambert watched him with eyes widened, the silence that fell in the room almost deafening. Jaskier worried his lip between his teeth as he stood in front of them, hip cocked to the side, one hand resting just under his waist. He was wearing an intricate lacey harness, frills of light blue lace fitted around his chest, cupping his pectorals perfectly. A thin strip of material going right through the middle of Jaskier's torso connected the harness with a blue silky collar wrapped around Jaskier's neck. His hips were hugged by a pair of cerulean blue frilly shorts, laced with silky ribbons all along the sides. The light pastel color of the lingerie provided a strong contrast to Jaskier's thick, dark hair adorning his chest and belly. His legs up to his thighs were hugged by delicate sheer stockings with intricate decorations on top.

The astonished look on both his Witchers' faces was reward enough for Jaskier. Eskel swallowed thickly, skimming his fingers over the thin fabric of the shorts. He didn't say a word but his eyes were already dark with arousal and he licked his lips over and over. Jaskier tipped his chin up with two fingers, his thumb caressing Eskel's plush lower lip. "I really want to celebrate tonight," Jaskier whispered, looking him deep in the eyes. "And I won't mind getting pampered a little."

"Oh, is that so?" Lambert rose to his feet, his hands immediately all over Jaskier, his lips nipping at the side of Jaskier's neck, right behind his ear. Jaskier shivered and gave in to the touch and kisses, feeling Eskel's hands still caressing his hips.

"What happens if I pull at the laces?" Eskel asked, his voice low and weirdly strained.

"That's also part of your present!" Jaskier almost jumped up like a little puppy, unable to contain his enthusiasm. He placed one of the laces in Eskel's hand, then guided Lambert's to grab at the other one. "C'mon, do it."

They pulled at the strings at the same time. Eskel watched mesmerized as the fabric of the shorts opened and dropped to the floor. Underneath Jaskier was wearing a pair of tiny light blue knickers, their fabric as thin as mist. He could see the outline of Jaskier's hardened cock through the panties, his dark hair poking out of them.

"That's it, I'm taking you to bed," Lambert's growling voice shook Eskel out of his reverence and he watched the other Witcher haul Jaskier up and throw him on his back on the bed.

Jaskier laid his back on the many pillows on the wide bed, letting his Witchers crawl over him and lay at his sides. Eskel slid one leg between Jaskier's thighs, making him throw his head back with a whimper. He then grabbed Jaskier's nape delicately but firmly and pulled him in for a heated kiss, his leg between Jaskier's thighs giving teh bard the friction he sought out so badly.

Lambert snaked a hand between their heated bodies and pulled hard at the fabric band that was connected with Jaskier's choker. He got Jaskier's attention and made him pull his lips away from Eskel, eyes already half-lidded with lust, lips red and swollen. "I need you too, honey," he whispered coarsely before slotting his lips with Jaskier. He tasted Eskel on Jaskier's mouth and the sensation made him moan with need.

As they kissed, Jaskier slid one hand down Lambert's breeches, wrapping it around his already hard cock. He felt Eskel's lips on his chest, his tongue slowly circling around his nipples. And then there was a hand on his crotch, fondling him through the paper thin fabric of his knickers.

Jaskier's hips bucked under Eskel's touch, a whine left his lips and his grip on Lambert's cock grew tighter, making his lover groan against Jaskier's mouth. Lambert's hand was at the back of Jaskier's neck, pressing him harder into Lambert's lips. "I love you so fucking much," Lambert sighed between kisses, making Jaskier whimper in reply.

Eskel's warm, strong hands were on Jaskier's thighs suddenly, parting them gently. Jaskier felt Eskel's hot breath between his legs, on his already hard cock restrained by the skin-tight knickers. When he gave Jaskier a long lick through the fabric, Jaskier shoved his hands forward and tangled them in Eskel's hair. Encouraged, Eskel sucked and lapped at Jaskier's erection through the knickers, making him arch his back with a long moan. "You're so beautiful, Jaskier," he whispered, hooking his thumbs at the seam of the panties and pulling Jaskier closer.

Lambert moved behind Jaskier, propping himself against the bed's headboard, making Jaskier lean his back on Lambert's chest. He kissed his neck and shoulders and held him through every shudder and jolt of pleasure caused by Eskel's clever mouth between Jaskier's legs. He put his chin on Jaskier's shoulder to have a better look at Eskel, who got up only for a second to quickly get rid of his clothes and dove right back in between Jaskier's legs. Lambert's cock, already fully hard, was still trapped in his clothes, so he revelled in every movement of Jaskier's back rubbing against it, giving him the pressure and friction he already needed so badly.

In a quick motion, Eskel yanked Jaskier's legs up and propped them on his shoulders, at the same time dragging his knickers down to his knees. Jaskier shot him a quick, needy look, prompting him to get down between his legs again.

And when Eskel finally took him in his mouth, without the thin panties standing in his way, Jaskier wailed. He grabbed at Lambert's neck before bucking up involuntarily into Eskel's mouth, trying to sheathe the full length of his cock inside that wet heat. Eskel only hummed around him, gazing at him and Lambert with wide eyes, his strong hands propping Jaskier's legs up.

"Fuck, Eskel, fuck me," Jaskier panted, looking down at him and still holding onto Lambert's neck, as if his life depended on it.

"We're both gonna fuck you, darling," Lambert whispered hotly in his ear and Jaskier let out another wailing sound. Lambert reached for the little flask of oil and threw it at Eskel - he grabbed it without even raising his head up. "Gotta admit, Witcher senses do come in handy here," Lambert laughed.

As Eskel's mouth worked Jaskier's cock to climax, he pushed one slick finger into Jaskier's hole. He was deliberately moving as slowly as possible, knowing all too well that Jaskier liked being played with and kept on edge. Jaskier panted heavily, eyes snapped shut, one hand hooked around Lambert's neck, the other tugging at Eskel's hair.

And when Eskel added another finger, Jaskier was lost. His hips started moving of their own volition, and he started fucking frantically into Eskel's mouth, while thrashing and moaning and panting. With a wicked grin, Lambert reached down to pinch and twist at his hardened nipples and this was enough to send Jaskier over the edge - he came with a loud groan, followed by a series of quick gasps.

Lambert tugged at the strap on his collar and pulled Jaskier into a kiss, licking at his swollen, red lips. "You did so good for Eskel, baby," he hummed. "Gonna be so good for me too?"

Jaskier nodded, unable to speak, plopping down on the cushions with his eyes closed and a blissed out expression on his face. As Lambert quickly shimmied out of his clothes, Eskel handed Jaskier a glass of water. He combed through Jaskier's hair, as he drank the whole glass at once, still panting.

"I love you, Jaskier," Eskel whispered, nuzzling at his neck, then laying beside him and pulling him in close so that Jaskier could lay down on Eskel's chest.

A quick kiss to his nape, followed by a lick down his spine, shook Jaskier out of his post orgasmic haze. Lambert was already between his legs, slowly rubbing his hands down Jaskier's back all the way to his ass. "Let me know when you're ready," he said, nipping at Jaskier's butt cheeks with his teeth.

Jaskier stretched out like a cat, propping himself up on his elbows, his hands on both sides of Eskel's head. He let out a soft purr while sticking his butt out for Lambert. "I'm always ready, darling," he hummed.

"Fuck," was all Lambert could manage, looking down at Jaskier, presented so beautifully in front of him, ready to be taken. He gave Jaskier's spine and shoulder blades a few quick kisses before placing his hands on Jaskier's hips and pulling him closer to his aching cock.

Holding Jaskier's hips in a firm grasp, Lambert slid in, his first thrust a bit too rushed, too hard. Jaskier jolted forward with a muffled hiss, landing on Eskel's chest. Eskel's strong arms wrapped around Jaskier's shoulders and head and Jaskier pressed his face to his heaving torso and let himself relax, giving in to the sensation of being so full, letting the pleasure take him.

"I've got you, I've got you," Eskel's low silky voice echoed in Jaskier's ears. Jaskier looked up at him, eyes watery and cheeks flushed and he kissed him, savouring in the softness of Eskel's lips. Lambert's thrusts pushed him towards Eskel repeatedly, making their kisses sloppy and chaotic. Jaskier moaned and whined into Eskel's mouth with every hard snap of Lambert's hips, but Eskel's arms were securely wrapped around his chest, steadying and providing him comfort.

Lambert leaned forward and pressed his chest to Jaskier's back. He reached out with one hand to grab Eskel's face and pull him into a kiss right over Jaskier's shoulder. They were so close to Jaskier's face, that he could sense their hot breaths intertwine, he could hear the sounds of their wet tongues and lips next to his ear and he panted with lust. He grabbed at Eskel's neglected cock, already slick with precome and caused him to let out a desperate groan.

Eskel threw his head back and slumped onto the pillows, breaking off the kiss, panting and moaning at the sensation of Jaskier's diligent fingers around his cock. He thrust up into Jaskier's fist with a groan, trying to get as much friction as possible. Jaskier smiled at him while biting his lips and Eskel pulled him into a heated kiss.

As Jaskier licked into Eskel's mouth, he whined, his arousal spiking and his cock getting hard again. He could taste everything on his lover's lips - the bitter taste of the ale Eskel had earlier, the familiar taste of Lambert's mouth and then his own spend - the mixture of flavours Jaskier got himself so terribly addicted to. He panted and moaned against Eskel's lips, his face held still by Eskel's big hands. He started chasing his own pleasure again - he wanted to rock back to meet Lamber's thrusts and at the same time he wanted to press his lips harder against Eskel's. The knickers were digging painfully into Jaskier's thighs but all he felt was the surging wave of his arousal. The sensation of being trapped between the heated bodies of his two lovers made him want more; to be so adored, worshipped and loved all the time, forever.

"You keep kissing like that and I will come within a second," Lambert growled behind him, his eyes dark with arousal, his hands digging painfully into Jaskier's hips.

Jaskier shot him a seductive look from behind his shoulder. "Then come," his voice was unnaturally low and thick, and he licked his lips, still looking Lambert in the eye. Eskel then hooked his thumb between Jaskier's kiss-swollen lips and pulled him in to meet his mouth again.

"Fuck... you," Lambert managed from between his gritted teeth, as he grabbed on the back of Jaskier's harness and yanked him up, pressing his chest flush to Jaskier's back. "Just... fuck you both," he panted as he came, his hips stuttering and rutting frantically into Jaskier. The waves of his climax washed over him and he pressed his mouth to Jaskier's shoulder to muffle the obscene moan that left his lips. "I fucking hate you both," he whispered before plopping onto the bed next to Eskel.

"You love us," Eskel chuckled, his hands caressing Jaskier's cheeks. Jaskier was panting, but his cock was painfully hard again and his eyes spoke of nothing but desire. Jaskier wanted. "Come into my lap," Eskel propmted, opening his arms for Jaskier.

Jaskier moved forward eagerly, quickly sliding his knickers off, not wasting any precious time, and he straddled Eskel's lap and pressed his buttocks to his cock, looking him deep in the eye. Eskel groaned and his hands were immediately on Jaskier's hips. "You want me like this, don't you?" Jaskier whispered, looking into Eskel's golden brown eyes, slowly lowering himself and taking Eskel in.

"Fuck, Jaskier," Eskel's eyes were wide and he licked his suddenly dry lips. "Do you... Aren't you tired? Want me to lay you down?" Even when lust was taking him over, he always made sure Jaskier felt good and comfortable. Jaskier whimpered.

"I know you like watching me like this," Jaskier retorted, slowly rolling his hips, spreading his legs to the sides. "Then watch."

And what a sight Jaskier was. He moved up and down Eskel's cock, spread out for him so beautifully, presenting all his gorgeous features to him. The damp brown hair, now falling into Jaskier's blue eyes, the cheeks and torso flushed a beautiful pink shade. His swollen lips, red and slick with saliva, the beads of sweat on Jaskier's forehead. That cerulean blue harness, still hugging Jaskier's chest, making the dark nubs of his nipples stand out. And then Jaskier's cock, bobbing with every move of his hips, leaking precome straight onto Eskel's belly. Eskel watched, mesmerised, as with every move of Jaskier's hips, streaks of Lambert's come left his hole and streamed down Eskel's cock and Jaskier's thighs, staining those delicate sheer stockings still wrapped around Jaskier's legs.

"You're too beautiful," Eskel whispered, the grasp on Jaskier's thighs tightening, his hips jolting up to meet Jaskier's and draw sweet moans out of his mouth. Jaskier locked eyes with him for a second and knew Eskel was close. He propped himself on Eskel's chest and started moving faster, breathing heavily, driving him over the edge. "Jaskier... oh fuck!"

"Come, darling," Jaskier whispered, not slowing down, even though his breath was hitching and his whole body was sweaty and shaking. "I'm close, too."

And then Lambert's hand grabbed Jaskier's cock from behind, his grip firm and secure, stroking him to completion. "You better come together, fuckers," he panted into Jaskier's ear.

And they did - Eskel driving one last time into Jaskier, his fingers digging painfully into Jaskier's flesh and his eyes closing shut, Jaskier letting out a long low moan and coming all over Eskel's chest and belly. They fell on the bed in one big pile of sweaty bodies, all of them panting heavily, limbs tangled and unable to move.

"Happy fucking Yule," Lambert muttered into Jaskier's damp chest, before dozing off.

Eskel wrapped an arm around Jaskier's shoulders and kissed his sweaty temple. "Happy Yule, Jaskier. We have something for you, too. I was sceptical at first but now I think you will like your present." His legs still wobbly, he slid out of bed and came back with a tiny pouch adorned with a bow.

Jaskier opened the present and let out a breathy laugh. Inside he found an intricate lacy piece of underwear, something like a bodice, made out of straps of black silk and adorned with lacy frills. "I think we know the same mysterious seamstress," Jaskier laughed, pulling Eskel into a soft kiss.

------

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[themurphyzone]

Pinky the Snowmouse Ch 1

Summary: On a lonely Christmas Eve, a lab mouse finds himself unable to concentrate on world domination. When an ACME scientist claims to own a magic silk hat, Brain initially dismisses it as superstitious nonsense, but finds that this boast could hold more truth than he could ever imagine.   

AN: So I posted this idea back in May (I know, nowhere near Christmas season) but it made for such a viable fic that I had to do it. Besides, I wanted to write a great Christmas fic since I focused more on Halloween last year. 

This fanfiction is also a tribute to all the Christmas specials we love so much every year, from the Christmas Carols to the holiday specials in our favorite cartoons to the Grinches and Rankin-Bass features.

Ch 1: That Old Silk Hat

AO3 Link

It was Christmas Eve, the day bolded and highlighted on the calendar, topped with a picture of Snoopy and his doghouse decked out in festive accessories.

Impossible to miss the overly cheerful music, the jingling bells, and the calls to be charitable to the poorer, less fortunate beings of the world.

Except humans never practiced what they preached.

No matter how much they claimed to care, Brain knew they never would. All of those charitable feelings would vanish as soon as Christmas was over, and they’d go right back to wallowing in their ignorance.

If they truly wanted to be charitable, they’d recognize Brain as the indisputable ruler over the world. But since humans always looked down on non-humans, it was an uphill battle with no end in sight.

But that was just fine with Brain. He wanted to be recognized for his merits and intelligence. He wanted to accomplish something other than achieving the lowest times on maze runs.

In time, his efforts would be rewarded. The bitter defeats would gradually transform into sweet victories.

But for now, he was unable to make headway into world domination since all the ACME employees had gathered by the main entrance, waiting for 3 pm to roll around like a class of bored schoolchildren who desperately wanted to go home.

If the higher ups were expecting all these mediocre scientists to show up for work and be productive on a snowy Christmas Eve, they were sorely mistaken. They were only here to collect their paychecks and didn’t care about scientific progress at all.

One lab tech popped a CD full of classic Christmas songs into an old stereo, and a chorus of Feliz Navidad began. Several scientists spun in their chairs, absentmindedly sucking on candy canes.

Brain was just as impatient as they were, but at least he’d be productive with his time once they all left.

“So ya got any plans, Bill?” a scientist asked.

“Go home,” Bill replied with a shake of his balding head. “Sleep because there’s no way I’m getting any shuteye with the twins bouncing off the walls for their presents tonight.”

“Kids are gonna be like that,” a lab tech spoke up. “I had to stop mine from taste-testing the cookies she wanted to leave out for Santa.”

Laughter rang out from the group, everyone taking turns to relate Christmas mishaps with their families. Soon almost every human joined in on the camereradie, except the most eccentric and inept scientist of them all.

Dr. Henry Hinkle was a man who claimed to bridge the fields of science and magic. However, he was woefully mediocre in both departments, and Brain had long ascertained the man had faked his credentials. Even Hinkle’s fashion sense was peculiar, as his gray lab coat was cut into the style of a magician’s fanciful tailcoat. With his brown handlebar mustache, he seemed more like a harried time traveler from the 19th century than a modern citizen.  

His most prized possession was a tall silk hat with a pink flower attached to the band. Hinkle often claimed it was a magic hat, one that performed wondrous and mystifying deeds far beyond human comprehension. Hinkle was attached to that hat, and nobody had ever seen him in public without it.

Hinkle stood apart from everyone else, an outsider from the science clique. He frantically paced back and forth, desperately trying to get the so-called magic hat to perform properly.

"Say, Hinkle? Didn't you have a gig at the elementary school last week? How'd that go?" Bill called, and all eyes turned to Hinkle, whose eyes nervously flicked back and forth at the sudden attention.

"Swell, very swell," Hinkle mumbled as he nervously fiddled with his hat. "Those little ankle-bi...I mean those delightful, darling angels were floored by my magic."

A woman scoffed and rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. My son was part of that class, and he thought it was the worst Christmas party he'd ever had. How embarrassing that you can't shuffle a deck of cards."

“Madam, I will have you know I can shuffle a deck with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back!” Hinkle retorted. He flicked his left sleeve, and an entire card deck slipped out and spilled onto the ground. As Hinkle bent down in a hasty attempt to get the cards back in order, a small wand, several rubber balls, and colorful scarves tumbled out his other sleeve.

Nobody bothered to help Hinkle out with his misfortune. His coworkers elbowed each other, pointed fingers, and snickered among themselves instead.

The situation was far too pathetic to be humorous.

Brain wasn’t surprised by humans anymore. Peace and goodwill toward their fellow men didn’t exist, though the holiday season claimed otherwise.

It was now 2:40 pm. Only twenty minutes left in this humiliating performance, and Brain could formulate his next plan for world domination without further interruption.  

Hinkle quickly stuffed the mess into his coat pockets. Then he straightened up, pulling on both ends of his bowtie in a vain effort to appear calm and collected once he was finished.

“If your hat really is magic, show us a few tricks!” Bill jeered, and the other employees joined in with challenges of their own.

“Oh, I will. And all of you will feel silly for doubting me after I’m through! Silly, silly, silly indeed!” Hinkle shouted. He tried to remove the hat from his head with a graceful flourish, but clumsily dropped it instead.

He chuckled nervously, a bead of sweat running down his forehead despite the chill.

“As with any exercise, a good magician always warms up with the basics,” Hinkle declared as he showed his audience a small red ball. “For my first trick, I will put this red rubber ball into my magic hat like so, and presto change-o, I have five red rubber balls to-”

He tipped the magic hat upside down. A single red ball bounced out, rolling along the floor before it hit an unimpressed lab tech’s shoe.

“-go,” Hinkle finished dejectedly. He peered into the hat, futilely shaking it as if the other four balls would pop out. Once he realized that wouldn’t be the case, his shoes scuffed the ground in shame as he picked up the single red ball and dropped it back into his hat.

“Look on the bright side, man! You produced invisible balls without trying!” someone called, garnering laughter from the rest of the audience.

Hinkle’s face turned red.

And while the scorn wasn’t directed at Brain, he thought the heckling was an unnecessary endeavor. There was little point in prolonging the man’s misery, no matter how incompetent or delusional he was at magic tricks.

“N-now, as I said before, that was just a warm up,” Hinkle said, nervously tugging at his collar. Then he pulled a small pink scarf out from his pocket, spilling several cards and dice onto the floor again. “But my second trick is sure to amaze you! Watch as I place this scarf into my hat and let the magic focus, now hocus pocus I say, and out come green, gold, and...gray?”

To nobody’s surprise, there was only a lone pink scarf in Hinkle’s hand. “There were supposed to be endless scarves attached to this…” he muttered. It fluttered out of his hand and back into the hat.

But nobody was paying attention to Hinkle anymore. The clock struck three, and the dull atmosphere changed to a holiday-induced fervor as everyone pushed and shoved their way to the front so they could card out and leave.

Brain crept to the front of his cage, one hand resting on his crooked tail as he prepared to unlock the cage and make headway into his plans as soon as they left. He was brimming with viable ideas, and they needed to be written down before he forgot them.

“EVERYBODY, WAIT!” Hinkle bellowed over the noise, and his colleagues turned to him with annoyance written all over their faces.

Brain gritted his teeth. Just let them go already! Was that really so difficult?

“I have one more trick, yes, just one more teensy trick up my sleeve! A real one, I assure you! You won’t be disappointed!” Hinkle said, rubbing his hands together frantically. He emptied his pockets, tossing props everywhere in a vain attempt to find something useful.

Then Hinkle donned a pair of white magician’s gloves, his eyes falling right on Brain. And Brain realized he was about to be conscripted as an unwilling volunteer.

Since his usual tactic of biting fingers until he was left alone wouldn’t work on gloved hands, Brain beat a hasty retreat to the back of his cage, intending to use the exercise wheel as further cover.

But he only made it halfway to the wheel when the door opened and gloved fingers pinched his tail, dragging him out of the cage and dangling him over the magic hat for everyone to see.

“Watch as I transform this ugly lab mouse into a beautiful dove!” Hinkle yelled, and just as Brain processed the insult, he was unceremoniously dropped into the hat. He fell right on top of the rubber ball, knocking the wind out of him. “Abracadabra alakazam!”

Brain pressed himself against the inside folds of the hat as he tried to catch his breath, but he was only given a moment of reprieve before he was snatched up and thrown into the air, as if Hinkle expected him to grow wings because of a nonsensical phrase.

He slammed against the window and fell to the table below, shaking his head to clear away the stars circling in his vision. Every part of his body ached, agony starting from the tip of his tail and snaking up his spine. Slowly, he sat up and checked himself over in the window.

There was a distinct lack of avian features in his reflection, as he expected. He had a new break in his tail from the rough treatment, but there weren’t any other new markings.  

Everyone stared at Brain in silence, and the only sounds were barely suppressed squeaks of disbelief from Hinkle and a chorus of Deck the Halls.

Then there was a booming laugh.

“Prettiest dove I’ve ever seen!” Bill said, to the mirth of his coworkers.  

Brain’s ears flattened, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

His fists clenched at the sound of their mockery. He never chose to be involved in this ridiculous demonstration. Or deal with their scorn and stupidity every day. Or live at ACME Labs at all, where he had to suffer through experiment after experiment on top of attempting world domination and failing every single night.

“Come back! I have trick cards! Magic 8-balls! I’ll saw something in half and put it back together, I swear!” Hinkle shouted at the scientists’ retreating figures as they all carded out and stepped into the bitter chill of winter. They shuffled through the snow-covered property and into their vehicles, not wishing to be delayed any longer.

The prized silk hat crumpled in Hinkle’s hand.

“Bah! The only thing this junk hat’s good for is the trash can!” Hinkle snarled as he hurled the hat at the wastebasket by the door, but it only hit the nearby wall instead.

Then he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Brain peered out the window, his breath forming a small patch of fog against the cold glass as he watched Hinkle trudge towards the city. He waited a minute to ensure Hinkle wasn't coming back, then rushed over to a drawer where he'd hidden a roll of blueprints and writing utensils.

He was finally, blissfully alone.

Strands of colorful Christmas lights twinkled along the walls, casting a festive hue onto the unfurled blueprints.

Solve for x. Cube the most wonderful time of the year. Multiply by pi.

Peppermints, candy canes, and chocolates were mixed together in a snowflake-patterned bowl. Brain snacked on one of the chocolates as he scribbled a preliminary design for a machine. The candy was bittersweet on his tongue.

Sodium and chloride to form an ionic bond. Three irons needed to balance the equation. Symbol H stood for the hap-happiest season of all.

Only the scratching of his pencil, the hum of a heater which barely worked, and an old, droning carol. The Christmas bells subdued, the computers shut off.

And hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. Loved ones are near. Loved ones are near...  

There was a wet spot on the blueprint, directly over where he was trying to write. Frowning, he rubbed out the excess moisture, but only succeeded in smudging his numbers. He started over in an empty space, only for the wetness to appear again. Annoyed, he flipped his pencil around and rubbed the grayed area with his eraser.

The blueprint ripped.

Though the hole was tiny and didn’t affect the rest of his work in the slightest, it seemed that his plan had failed before he’d implemented it.

And it occurred to him that he’d never considered how the machine would function or how it would help him accomplish his takeover.

His face felt strange, so he rubbed his cheeks to get rid of the sensation. His hand came away damp.

Oh.

He was crying.

It was that stupid song’s fault. He dropped his pencil and walked over to the stereo, slamming his hand against the stop button just as the song reached its end.

The sound cut off immediately.

Only the dying thrums of a malfunctioning heater now.

The silence was overwhelming.

Christmas media always said the holiday season was a joyous occasion for family and friends, a time for reflection and rebirth as the year wrapped up and began anew.

But it was just propaganda. Nothing more than lies so people would praise themselves as right and virtuous and loving when they were nothing of the sort.

Brain splashed cold water onto his face, ridding himself of the useless tears. Then he looked out the window. A light flurry had begun, the clouds low and dreary gray. The land was already blanketed in snow from the blizzard on the winter equinox, and temperatures hadn’t warmed up since.

And while there were footprints in the snow from passersby, much of the surrounding property was untouched.

Maybe that’s what he needed.

An opportunity to numb himself, to walk around in the cold and discard these useless, empty aches in his chest.

He tore up his blueprint and threw it away. He was better off starting over after his stint outside.

Then he put on his winter gear, nicked from a doll somebody had brought in as a donation to a toy drive, but now lay forgotten in the lab.

The thick white jacket was comfortable and padded with extra fluff. He threw the hood over his head and tucked in his ears, then pulled on his snow boots and gloves.

As he wound a long piece of string around the window latch, he caught sight of the silk hat that laid beside the wastebasket, considered nothing more than trash since it wouldn’t do what Hinkle wanted. The rubber ball and scarf was still inside, crumpled and forgotten.

Magic wasn’t real. It was simply the art of misdirection and illusion. Or a word the uneducated used to describe occurrences they couldn’t explain with science.

Despite his beliefs, Brain built a simple pulley system with thick yarn and an empty spool to haul the silk hat up to the counter.

He could use the hat for extra fabric. Repurpose it. Shrink it so he could have a formal hat for himself.

He opened the window, allowing the cold wind to numb the exposed fur on his face. With all the flurries, he’d probably regret this decision later, but that wasn’t anything new. Then he dropped the loose end of the string outside and tugged the knot around the latch. Once he was satisfied with the knot’s tightness, he dropped the silk hat into the snow-covered bushes below.

It was ironic, how he experimented with chemicals and complicated machinery every night, but didn’t know what he was doing with a simple hat.

Maybe that humiliating demonstration had messed with his mind, overriding all his logic and planning capabilities.

But it seemed like such a flimsy excuse, not providing a satisfactory explanation as to why he’d dragged a so-called magic hat outside on what was supposed to be a simple break.

Brain slid down the string, his boots crunching against the snow as he landed. He stuck out a gloved hand, catching several flurries.

No two snowflakes looked alike, they always said. But their crystalline structures couldn’t be seen without a microscope, so they were nothing more than white powder to the naked eye. He rolled the flurries in his palm until they formed a tiny snowball.

It gave him an idea.

But...it was childish. Stupid.

Yet he found himself rolling snow anyway.

This patch of the property was completely undisturbed, so he had a nice layer of clean, white snow untouched by human footprints to work with.

Nobody was around to see him. And it gave his hands something to do instead of remaining idle.

He quickly found that rolling snow into a spherical shape per the typical snowman wasn’t as easy as television depicted. The snow didn’t want to move in the way he wanted, and it came out as a lumpy, ovular mound that happened to be the same size as him.

He kicked aside a thin, whiplike twig that had broken off from one of the nearby bushes as he gathered more snow to form the head. Then he reconsidered and picked up the twig.

In his hands, it looked very similar to a mouse’s tail. One that wasn’t broken by mishandling.

While he didn’t have the height or the tools required for a full-sized snowman, maybe he could create a snowmouse instead.

He carefully threaded the twig into the backside of the mound, curling it around so it resembled an actual tail.

Then he brushed extra snow away from the front, smoothing out the mound until it had the snowy equivalent of legs.

The head was more difficult to sculpt, but he managed to create something that would be recognizable as a mouse’s head, with two small snowballs forming the ears and a muzzle that jutted out. He would’ve made the muzzle smaller, but the increased size was necessary to counterweight the ears. Lastly, he slid two sticks into each side of the snowmouse to serve as arms.

The snowmouse was twice Brain’s height, and while it had the proportions of a mouse, it was ultimately just a cold white body with three embedded twigs. No personality, no splashes of color.

Anyone could easily miss or step on it.

The snowmouse would be gone by next week, once the temperature rose above freezing. No trace of his handiwork would remain.

Such was life. Short and brutal, with nothing to show for it.

The faceless snowmouse seemed oddly alone, the only other thing besides Brain in this wintery courtyard. There wasn’t anything for either of them here.

“Sorry,” Brain said, unsure of why he was apologizing to something that couldn’t hold a conversation. He’d wasted far too much time here. He had to get back to his plans. “I’m going inside.” 

A chilly breeze blew, and Brain held fast to his hood so it didn’t come off. As he turned to the lab, he saw the silk hat become airborne, flying several feet until it landed by Brain and the snowmouse.

He didn’t think the breeze had been that strong.

But the strangest part was how the hat was much smaller than before. It wouldn’t fit a human anymore.

Even the red rubber ball and pink scarf shrunk. And there were several pebbles that hadn’t been there previously, though Brain guessed they could’ve just gotten inside when he’d dropped the hat.

Brain stared at the items, then back at the snowmouse.

“Just this once,” he sighed as he draped the scarf between the main body and head, then placed the rubber ball at the end of the muzzle for a nose.

Two of the pebbles became unseeing eyes, though Brain was at a loss of what he should do with the other two pebbles. He tried using them as a replacement for buttons on the body, but that didn’t seem right. And placing them on the cheeks just looked awkward.  

Brain held a pebble in each hand, stepping back to determine the placement. But he didn’t find anything satisfactory.

He was about to discard the pebbles entirely, but then he noticed that the snowmouse seemed to have an odd pair of buckteeth sticking out at the end of its muzzle with the way he held the pebbles.

Perhaps he should’ve left it as a matter of perspective. It was stupid. It was silly.

But Brain stuck the pebbles on the underside of the muzzle anyway.

The snowmouse looked ridiculous with its red rubber nose, pink scarf, and pebbles for eyes and goofy buckteeth.

Another breeze picked up, and one of the snowmouse’s stick arms waved, moving up and down like it was saying hello.

Like it was...friendly. Alive. Happy.

Slowly, Brain approached the snowmouse. He placed one hand on the snowmouse’s body, balanced on his tiptoes, and threw the silk hat on top.

For reasons Brain couldn’t explain, the hat just seemed to go with the rest of the snowmouse.

And then he caught himself.

What a ridiculous concept.

Creating a snowmouse wasn’t his worst transgression, if he’d just left it at the creation process. No, instead he had to go personifying it! Assigning qualities that shouldn’t be designated to inanimate objects!

Snow wasn’t alive. It was water. That’s all it was.

“You’re snow. You’re just a pile of frozen water!” Brain yelled, turning away from the snowmouse. Enough with these idiotic fantasies. He was going inside, back to the cruel reality of trying to take over the world. “You’re not alive, so just leave me alone! Quit toying with my perception!”

He stomped towards the window, but only made it a few steps before an odd sound gave him pause.

“Toys? Narrrrrf! That sounds like jolly good fun! Can I play with toys too?”

Brain looked over his shoulder, and promptly tripped over himself in surprise.

A pair of bright blue eyes was looking back at him. Actual eyes, not pebbles.

And the snowmouse was talking.

End AN: I feel really bad for calling Brain ugly. *sobs*

I actually kinda find writing Hinkle’s dialogue fun. A bit of a strange character to crossover with, but fun. Hocus Pocus the Rabbit won’t be making an appearance. 

Also some changes will be made from the original Frosty the Snowman cause some parts of the cartoon don’t make sense. A greenhouse at the North Pole, really?

[ushijimas-koibito]

request no. 1

request: clingy ushiwaka. the partner has the same haircut as him and is trying to get their work done.

author’s note: thank you so much @im-cold-so-gimme-your-hoodie​! i appreciate your request and will give it my best. i hope you enjoy and i look forward to hearing your feedback. 

title: toshi comes home.

warnings: suggestive behavior, kissing, nudity, cheese, fluff

listening: crush on you by elijah who; it’s finally raining again by elijah who; sincerely, yours by nohidea; my new love by elijah who; frozen by sabrina claudio; wanna know by sabrina claudio; this town by ama lou; could’ve been by H.E.R and bryson tyler; i fall in love too easily by caleb belkin; wild by dijon; goodbye, good luck by sad face; laundry day by joey pecorano; monday loop by tomppabeats; give me something by joey pecorano

5:30; his flight should land soon and he would be back in your arms. ushijima wakatoshi, your partner, was returning home today after a very long national press tour. the two of you had video chatted every night, but it wasn’t the same as having him here with you. you felt a little guilty as you wait there in the airport lobby answering emails. you thought you timed everything right. you were sure you would finish everything for work by tuesday; and you would… but today is monday. how you got the dates confused, you will never know as you are an extremely punctual, efficient, and timely person. you had to be as a project manager for a major up-and-coming tech company. you and ushijima were something of a power couple. two of the youngest but most powerful people in your respective fields. you were each a force to be reckoned with.

 you looked around the airport a moment, although mostly empty, you still managed to turn heads. you turned towards the windows looking out over the parking deck and caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection. you adjusted the collar of your shirt and curled a face framing hair around your finger to smooth out the little bit of frizz. you hoped he liked it on you. you usually kept your hair quite long, at least to your shoulders, but the notion of having to style it and losing minutes to your hair was something you couldn’t take anymore. it looked very similar to ushijima’s hair, save for your hair being a different color and texture. the slight wave of your hair annoyed you but it was one of ushijima’s favorite things. the more you thought about it the more you realized almost everything that annoyed you about yourself was something he loved. he was always picking up on your quirks and insecurities and he found a way to romanticize them. he was just that way, seeing beauty in strange things, glamor in the mundane, and depth in simplicity. you checked your watch and turned to the gate. he was landing shortly. 

you noticed a few paparazzi scuttle in and you tighten your jaw. couldn’t they leave him alone for just one day? you thought to yourself as you pulled the front hem of your blazer. you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and straighten your posture and walk closer to the gate. ushijima would be in a much better mood if you were the first to intercept him instead of the paparazzi. as you walk toward the gate you hear the sound of a shutter click and a flash go off. you whip your head towards the young cameraman who has been stopped by an older journalist, “what are you doing? that’s not him.” the cameraman looks at you a moment longer before turning away under the pressure of your icy gaze. you check your reflection in your phone, my hair isn’t exactly like his, you ponder, is it?

at that moment you get a text from ushijima, be there soon. waiting for bags. can’t wait to see you. missed you, my dear. you smile and open your emails to squeeze in some more work. you always miss wakatoshi when he leaves and you hate that your first day back together will be spent with you working. if you don’t finish the work tonight, it will cut into your time together with the few days you have before he leaves again. the sooner you both get home, the sooner you could finish your work, the sooner you could be together with no distractions. he was sure to be frustrated but understanding.

 the doors opened and there he was walking toward you. his usually serious expression faded away and a smile crept its way across his face. he walked directly up to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “hello, my dove,” he rested his forehead against yours for a moment before taking a step back, “your hair,” he said quietly. “do you like it?” you squeezed his hand a little. “of course I do.” he pushed a tendril out of your eyes and pushed up your glasses with his knuckle, not releasing your hand to do so. you took his bag in your other hand, “the car is waiting for us outside.” you walked hand in hand without a glance to the paparazzi. you handed the bags to the driver and opened the back door for ushijima. he tilted his head back against the head rest and you slid in. he reached his arm across the seats and patted his hand against his chest to gesture you to give him a cuddle. you slid across the seats and he leaned his cheek against the top of your head as you draped your arm across his torso. he let out a long breath, “it’s good to be home.” you nuzzled his cheek and pulled him closer. you enjoy this simple moment; the rise and fall of his broad chest, the warmth of his body radiating through his thin cashmere sweater, the quiet inhale and exhale of breath against your skin, “you must be tired, darling.” he shook his head, “not really. i slept a bit on the plane. i made sure to get sleep so i could spend as much time as possible with you.” you can feel him smile against your head, “about that,” you say hesitantly as you pull away to look at him, “uh oh,” he whispers with a smirk, “i’m sorry,” you begin, “I just have a few things to finish up and then i’m all yours for the next five days,” he smiles and ruffles your hair, “you’re always mine.. but I understand.” he pulls you into his strong arms and holds you tight all the way to your apartment.

just as you arrive, your phone buzzes with a call from your business partner, “hello shimizu, i just picked up ushijima from the airport and i’m about to head upstairs.” ushijima waves his hand before picking up his bag, “he says ‘hello’,” you laugh softly while you fumble with your keys and head toward the entrance. you walk in and get on the elevator as she preps you for the video meeting. you look at ushijima and whisper, “kiyoko says hello back, she’s prepping me for the meeting.” he nods, “we’ll have to have her and ryu over for dinner this week.” you nod back. you both enter the elevator and he puts his arm around you as you listen carefully to the instructions; another pang of guilt washes over you as you catch him studying your face. he always looks at you like you’re going to disappear, as if you’re going to be a figment of his imagination, or like he’s afraid that one day he might forget. “alright, shimizu, i’m almost inside. i’ll be settled soon and we can jump on to finish prepping before the meeting.” you hang up and slip your phone in your blazer pocket. you have a few floors to enjoy the quiet with wakatoshi. he leans his head against yours and kisses your cheek. he lingers a moment and then tenderly kisses just behind your ear, “your haircut makes it easier for me to kiss your neck,” he whispers, “i like it.” you blush slightly and jump when the floor bell rings. he laughs picking up his bags and walking onto your floor, “come on,” he says with a smile, “wouldn’t want you to be late for your meeting.” you hesitate letting the guilt wash over you once more before walking up the hall and unlocking the door to your pristine corner apartment. 

the apartment was very calming and soothing to be in. deep, cool colors and lots of open space with many beautiful plants. “i swear, (y/n), the orchids thrive when you take care of them.” ushijima delicately cradled the white and purple bloom in his fingers and craned down to take in it’s fragrance. the apartment always feels more like a home when he’s here. despite having floor to ceiling walls of windows, the place never fills with light until he comes home. you walk into the kitchen and turn on the kettle, “tea?” you asked, ushijima runs his hands through his hair and comes behind the counter, “i’ll make it, you go on ahead. don’t keep kiyoko waiting.” he bumps you out of the way with his hip and takes the tea bags out of your hands. you kiss his shoulder before heading towards your desk and taking off your blazer. 

you sit at your desk and prepare yourself for the meeting. shimizu is already logged on and waiting. you open your documents and sign on to the video chat, “sorry to keep you waiting, shimizu.” over the next few minutes, you put the final touches on your project proposal. ushijima comes up with two teas for you both. he comes behind the desk and hunches down to be in frame of the camera, “hello kiyoko,” he says while setting down your tea. “i’m not sure if (y/n) has offered yet, but we would love to have you and ryu over for dinner this week.” she smiles and agrees that she will have to speak to ryu and hopefully you lot can work something out. “i certainly hope so,” he says before turning to you, “let me know if it needs more sugar,” he waves to the camera and then sits in the chair in front of your desk. you feel his feet touch yours as he stretches out reading an article from his press tour in a magazine. “ushijima, please don’t feel obligated to stay in the apartment, i’d hate for you to just be bored all-,” he cuts you off, “all I want to do is spend the day with you. i can handle sitting here for awhile.” you shake your head and log into your meeting. the meeting goes on for a couple hours. during your meeting ushijima refilled your tea, played footsie with you under the desk, and drew little plants and hearts on your sticky pad. he was very sweet and you felt bad that you couldn’t give him the attention he deserved. 

after another hour of meetings and presentations passes, ushijima wonders into the kitchen and makes you both lunch. every so often, he looks up from his work and looks at you. he loves seeing you at work. he can only hope that you receive the same thrill he gets when he sees you at one of his matches. although, to be honest, he makes you nervous. you are so aware of his intense gaze and his deep eyes following your every move, that you become more aware of what you’re doing and that makes you uneasy. you’ve never been the best at handling the pressure of being observed and watched. the first half of your meeting wraps up and you all sign off to take a break for lunch. 

ushijima has set up your lunches and waves you over. it’s a simple and nutritious lunch with vegetables, rice, and fish. he was a very good cook. everything he makes is simple but delicious. it’s an easy meal to finish quickly. you take the dishes to the kitchen and hear ushijima walk up behind you. he wraps his arms around you and plants airy kisses from your ear, down your neck, and to your shoulder. he slides his hands down your sides and grabs your hips, “please tell me you’re almost done with work,” he pleads in your ear and grazes his teeth across your skin. “ju-just a little while longer, toshi," you gulp as you hear his breath shudder and he pushes against you causing you to lean against the counter. he runs his hand from your hip, down your thigh and drags his fingers up your leg digging his fingers in, “promise?” he asks. “i-i promise.” you say feeling your heart slam against your chest. you wriggle away, “but i can’t think when you do stuff like that.” he laughs softly, “like what?” he asks coyly. you wave your hand towards where you just were in the kitchen, “like that, don’t be coy.” he saunters toward you, “i don’t know what you mean.” you back up until your back hits the wall, “yes you do. we’ll have plenty of time for that sort of thing after i’m done working,” he stands in front of you and his eyes seem to undress you, “but I missed you, dove,” you turn to walk away but he places his hand against the wall blocking your path and his face is inches from yours. he places his other hand on the opposite side of you, “and i’m taking my opportunity now to show you how much,” he nudges your nose with his and rocks his hips into yours. although you are flustered, you know what you must do. you stand up straight and look into his eyes, “ushijima,” you say flatly, “i have work to do and there is no amount of kabedon tomfoolery that can distract me.” he drops his arms and takes a step back and for a moment you think you’ve finally intimidated the great ushiwaka, until he erupts into laughter. “well, well, well, have I lost my touch then?” you roll your eyes and turn to walk away but he grabs your arm and spins you into an embrace. his eyes are very intense and serious, “do i really have no effect on you?” your breath hitches in your throat, “don’t be dramatic,” you say through a slight pout, “i just need to finish my work and then we can do this all day!” you push against his chest and stumble toward your desk. he chuckles and plops down in the chair in front of your desk, “fine,” he says, “i can behave.” you start to log back on, “for now.” he smirks and flicks open the magazine. 

when ushijima gets clingy, it excites him when he can’t immediately get attention. it becomes a competition and he wants nothing more than to win. all throughout the remainder of your video meeting he was watching, sighing, stretching, and pushing his hands through his hair in the way he knows you like. you could hardly pay attention. this wasn’t the hard part. you knew he wouldn’t try too hard as long as you were on video chat, but the moment you got off and did your independent work, you knew it would be a real challenge. 

you signed off for the day and began finishing up your work before you had to reply to emails. ushijima stood up and came around the back of the desk. “i don’t know how you’re able to sit all day. i’d be far too restless,” he pushed down on your shoulders and began to massage them. he spends a little extra time on the nape of your neck, now easily accessible thanks to your new haircut. you roll your shoulders back and hear a small pop, “you’ve been working so hard, maybe you can take a little break?” you sigh as he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “i’m almost done, toshi.” he sighs and squeezes your shoulders, “let me finish this and then i don’t have to do this again until sunday.” he groans in frustration and slips his hand underneath your shirt to trace circles on your chest, “how much longer?” he asks like a child waiting to open presents on their birthday. you look at the clock, “about an hour.” he huffs and sighs again, raking his fingers across your chest, “alright.” he pulls away reluctantly and stands in front of your desk. you continue to work on your computer and watch him out of the corner of your eye. at first he plops into the chair, stands up, paces back and forth, and then repeats the cycle. after about half an hour of this, he stands and looks at the clock, “you have much left?” you nod, not looking from your work, “at least another half hour.” he mumbles under his breath and paces a few more times. “i suppose i’ll have a quick shower,” he says forlornly, “alright, dear,” you say concentrating on your last few emails. suddenly, your vision goes dark and cashmere rubs across your face, ushijima has taken off his sweater and thrown it at your head. you slowly pull it off and look at him as he folds his trousers over his arm. he smiles wryly and saunters over to you, “how clumsy of me, slipped right through my fingers.” he stands very close to you and gathers the sweater up. you look up at him, “this will only take longer if you keep tempting me.” he laughs softly and curls a finger under your chin, “at least you are tempted,” he says with a sigh and walks off to the bathroom. hopefully you can finish up. he is so distracting. how you managed this long without giving in is astonishing. 

the half hour of no distractions passes like a flash. you turn off your computer, take off your glasses, and rub the bridge of your nose. he has been awfully quiet since you heard the shower turn off. you get up from your desk and start to unbutton your shirt. you round the corner and look into your bedroom to find ushijima sleeping on the bed, hair wet, still wrapped in his towel. you smile, i knew he was more tired than he let on. you finish getting undressed and hear him snore a little. before heading to the shower you grab the blanket and go to cover him up. as you go to adjust his pillow, his eyes open with a glint and he traps you in his arms, rolling and pulling you on the bed. he peppers your face and neck with kisses as you both laugh together, rolling back and forth across the bed. “did you think i would really lose sight of my goal?” he smirks. “of course not, you’re ushijima wakatoshi,” you say seriously. you both erupt into hearty laughter before settling into each others arms. “so,” he begins, pulling you closer, “all mine now, (y/n)?” you smile and plant a sweet kiss on his lips, “i am always yours, wakatoshi.” 

[the-navistar-carol]

Intervention

Good God help me I’m back on my Garmari again. AGAIN. Class salt, but not Alya, Alix is neutral (so minor Alix salt?). Chloé redemption, but it’s not mentioned. Also, members of the new team at the end are PV Félix and his Gucci Gang

~~~

Marinette never thought she’d thank Chloé Bourgeois, of all people, for her boyfriend.

Backtrack.

A year and a half ago, their end-of-year class trip was the best one they had had or ever would. Funding, from Chloé’s father, went to a weeklong trip to San Francisco. They toured Alcatraz, the different neighborhoods, the Ghirardelli factory, and walked the Golden Gate Bridge.

None of those events even came close to the Teen Titans’ tower in San Francisco Bay. They didn’t go inside, obviously, but almost every day, in their allotted free time, she found herself at a harborside café, sketching the tower and designs that came to her from it and its team.

It was those quiet times that, incidentally, got her into contact with the team shapeshifter, Beast Boy.

Marinette had been sitting on a dock for a change, doodling idly as her legs swung from a bench — she was still too short for her feet to touch the ground at fifteen. Tikki dozed in her purse, stuffed full of chocolate.

As the sun began to make its way toward the horizon, she got up and placed the sketchbook in her backpack. Then, like the sun, she began to head home.

That journey would quickly be delayed. A man, hood up and all in dark clothes, snatched her purse and took off like a shot.

Tikki!

The Parisian girl sprinted after him, shouting for help. If she had been transformed, perhaps she would have taken him down faster.

But perhaps it was for the better. A green blur shot out of an alley and knocked into the would-be thief with a forceful missile kick, quickly apprehending the man. Marinette skidded to a halt to avoid running him over, and was caught in a pair of dark brown eyes.

Oh, hello there.

He grinned toothily, and held up her clutch purse. “Does this happen to be yours?”

“Oui!” Marinette’s hands flew to her mouth, and she couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment. “Oh! I am sorry, yes, it is.” Despite years of learning English, she couldn’t help but stammer with her accent.

The green boy fished out a pair of cuffs and locked them around the thief’s wrists, and kept a hold on them with his left hand as he held out his right. “I’m Beast Boy. Nice to meet you, though it would’ve been better under different circumstances.”

She shook his hand, and couldn’t help a sheepish smile. “Well, um, if you would like to try again,” Marinette suggested, already flushing, “I will be close to Hyde Street Pier, on the waterfront, close to three o’clock tomorrow.”

His grin only widened. “Can’t wait!” Beast Boy hauled the man to his feet, and glanced back at her. “Oh, hey, by the way — what’s your name?”

“I’m Marinette!”

“See you tomorrow, Marinette!”

That fateful encounter sparked a close friendship, which blossomed into an even closer relationship.

Marinette was grateful that the stars had aligned that day. She wouldn’t be where she was in life without him, if she was being completely honest.

She and Gar were open about their identities to each other, and when he came over on his bimonthly visit via Zeta tubes, they spent their days inside cuddling, watching movies, and playing video games.

The only thing that irked both of them was the fact that their relationship was one-hundred-percent secret from the press, as neither wanted that publicity.

Ergo, they couldn’t be seen in public together.

Therefore, they couldn’t go on dates, no matter how much they wanted to.

At least they had reached a compromise. Until Hawkmoth was defeated, on her own terms, they couldn’t be seen together. Even if her own terms, which would take more time, involved no outside help.

When Lila Rossi entered Françoise Dupont for the first time, Marinette didn’t have to be Ladybug to see through her lies. She claimed extravagant tales of meeting American superheroes on her mother’s travels — of the Teen Titans in New York City, of the Batfamily in Gotham, and of some group she had completely made up — the Gems of Justice, of all names.

Yeah, no. She didn’t have to be a superheroine to spot the bullcrap a mile away.

She tried to keep the whole situation quiet, though, she really did. Marinette didn’t want to burden Gar with class drama. After all, she was well aware that they only had so much time together.

But just like how she had tried to keep being Ladybug from him, that plan fell through in a matter of hours.

He held her when she sniffled over Lila’s threat, and let her slump back into him as she described how her classmates (sans Alya, bless her heart) were riveted by this Italian liar nobody who somehow held their attention.

She held onto the hope that they would all see reason, sometime.

That hope shattered when Alya moved away. Her parents wanted out from the living nightmare of Akumatown, as all four of their daughters had been akumatized at least once apiece.

Marinette sobbed, for the first time alone in the city of love.

It was midnight when she called him on her first night without her bestie, bawling into the phone line.

It was twenty minutes past when he showed up on her balcony, and she almost tackled them both over the railing. She let her emotions pour out onto his shoulder and he held her tight; and when she ran out of tears to cry, he held her until she fell asleep in her bed.

In the morning, he let her sleep in a little bit, and made her pancakes (with green food coloring, of course, because how else would he?). She cried again upon seeing the food, but there were thankful tears mixed among the sad ones.

Marinette left her house with her head held high.

Without her rock Alya at her side, Lila’s digs and jibes became worse. She took the mental hits, took the comments. Snide words turned into sneering faces turned into trips in the hallways, turned into destroyed work.

She resigned from the class presidency, choking down tears.

How could she have let it get this bad?

She should have stood up to it, so it could have stopped before it all began!

Oh, Alya…

Trips in the hallways turned to shoving at the steps, turned into stolen things.

Garfield, in the Titan Tower, had had a slow week. He’d only gone to visit Marinette a few days ago, but when Raven flicked his shoulder and told him he was moping, he headed off to the tubes to pay his girlfriend a surprise visit.

He emerged in Paris and immediately morphed into a bird, flying high above the city. He didn’t want the attention that came with his ability, not today.

As her school wasn’t out yet, Gar soared around Paris, taking in the sights. No matter how many times he came to the city, the views still left him amazed.

And Marinette with him, when they could go to those places, would leave him breathless.

As the hour wound closer, he headed over to Collège François Dupont, and took a perch on one of the flagpoles, content to wait for the time being.

The bell rang to let the classes out, and he shifted on his seat, eager to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend.

There!

She was one of the first out, and he readied his wings to swoop down to her and sweep Marinette off her feet. He was almost in flight when he stopped dead, dread washing over him like a tidal wave.

A tall Asian boy with an undercut and bleached hair hurried after her, his sneakered feet hitting the cement with a self-righteous purpose.

And a pack was following him.

Her classmates — a pale girl with long black hair, a dark-skinned boy with close-cropped hair, a short blonde girl, a tall blonde boy, and more — were in close pursuit.

And behind them strode a brunette, her wedged heels clicking with her own purpose. Green eyes watched all as her lips curled into a deadly, sickly smirk.

All attention was on Marinette, who hurried to go home, shoulders hunched.

He had left her alone like this.

“Hey!” the Asian boy called, and a robot whizzed in front of his girlfriend, bringing her up short.

She froze, and slowly turned to face him. Marinette was dwarfed by his massive frame, and she was terrified of what might happen next.

His hands came to rest on his hips, and he cocked his head in a leer. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with what you’ve done.”

“Huh?” Her tone was shrill, it was panicked. “Kim, I didn’t do anything!”

An ugly frown twisted his face. “Then maybe you’ll remember!”

Faster than she could react, his hand raised and descended.

But Garfield reacted faster.

In a blink, he took off like a shot and dove down at the Asian boy, then shifted back to human form midair to launch himself at the boy feet-first like a missile. His boots hit the boy in the back of the neck, and man, was he satisfied to see him fall.

“G- Beast Boy?!” Marinette’s panicked whisper told him she was only a hair away from a complete breakdown.

The classmates hurriedly backpedaled, clearing a ring for him in the crowd that was quickly forming.

Gar hauled the boy — Kim — up by his hoodie collar. Despite his scrawny figure, he was lean, and packed a punch.

“I don’t like bullies,” he hissed as his eyes narrowed to slits. Kim quaked in his grasp, catching a good look at his fangs. “And if I catch you even looking at her wrong, you’ll wish you had never met her.”

Someone in the crowd was foolish enough to step forward and speak up. It was the dark-skinned boy with glasses, and his robot had flown back to be at his side. “My calculations prove that there is a ninety-percent chance that Marinette is the one at fault.”

He felt his girlfriend shrink beside him. It was tempting to shift into a tiger and intimidate the lot of them.

But instead his lips twitched into a smile, instead he grinned. The hook in his mouth had never been so cold.

“Then I suggest you check your calculations, buddy boy.” The class flinched back from his tone alone — it flashed knives, razor-sharp and ready to cut.

“All of you better watch your backs, ‘cause I’ll be waiting for an opening.” His voice spilled from his throat in an angry growl. If he had been a tiger, his tail would have lashed.

“I’m giving you one warning. Scram.”

The class took off and scattered, one of them even darting into the street.

Gar didn’t spare them a second glance before turning back to Marinette and hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her perfume. “I should be there for you, not an ocean away.”

Her arms snaked around his sides and clutched him tight. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, so he gently rubbed her back.

“Hey, hey. Marinette, let’s get back to your room, okay?” Any trace of the snarl he had bared at her classmates was gone; his voice was gentle now, it was soothing.

She sniffled, and hiccuped once as she tried to get her breathing under control. “Okay.” Her voice was quiet, subdued. There was no trace of the sassy girl he had met who loved life fiercely with all her heart.

Anger built inside him but he dispelled it, thanking Raven for forcing him to learn meditation.

After he picked up her bag, Gar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s not that far. You can make it.”

Another subdued “okay” was all the response he got.

He led her across the street, ignoring the looks passers-by threw him and even the phone cameras.

Once she was inside the bakery, a shocked gasp let him know Sabine Cheng had seen them. She rushed out from behind the counter to hug her daughter tight, then led the two of them to their living room upstairs.

After he had set down her bag and the three of them were seated on the couch, Sabine with her arm around Marinette and Garfield holding her hand, his girlfriend finally broke down, sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to make tea?” he offered, knowing Sabine didn’t want to leave her daughter’s side.

The older woman nodded. “Please. Peony.”

He gave Marinette’s hand a squeeze and got up, finding the kettle and mugs easily. While he waited for the water to heat up, he sat back down next to her.

Sabine looked to him, gray eyes piercing. “What happened, Garfield?”

He told her everything. How he had watched her come out of the school and saw Kim go straight for Marinette on an offense she hadn’t committed.

“It’s Lila,” his girlfriend muttered, her voice muffled by her mother’s shirt. “She’s influenced them all except Alix.”

That didn’t help matters.

“But Alix didn’t defend you,” Gar told her gently. “They all, one way or another, abandoned you.”

Marinette hiccuped, finally looking up at him. A bolt of pain shot through his heart at the face looking him in the eyes — red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and a running nose.

“They abandoned me,” she repeated, her voice hollow. “I have nobody.”

“You’ve got me,” Garfield reminded her, taking her hands and squeezing them tight. “You’ve got two parents who love you more than anything in the world. And, if I called them now, you have the Teen Titans. All of them would stand for you. Every last one of them.”

The kettle whistled, and he got up to steep the tea. He heard Sabine murmur to her daughter in Cantonese, things he didn’t understand but knew the intent. He returned to the couch with three mugs balanced carefully on a tray, and set it down on the table.

“Mrs. Cheng, I don’t know if you’ve considered it, but have you thought of moving schools?”

She nodded, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I have. And I think that it would be best.”

Marinette didn’t even flinch, just numbly nodded. His heart broke to see her so lifeless, and he pulled her into a tight hug. He almost had to blink back tears of his own, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Let me help with this, Mrs. Cheng. Please.”

Sabine nodded. “I will. How long are you going to stay in Paris?”

“As long as I’m needed.”

And he did. He stayed.

Garfield was the one to march into Françoise Dupont to deliver the paperwork to Damocles, his chin up and shoulders back. Even if he was at average height — and shorter than a good half of the school — they cleared a path for him, the school yard silent enough to drop a pin.

He didn’t spare them a parting glance.

Gar was the one to walk her to her new school, where she was mobbed by Kagami, Luka, and Chloé. They thanked him, each thank-you heartfelt, and he grinned, knowing his girlfriend was in good hands.

He was there for her first week, and went back to the Tower knowing she had friends to support her there.

And when Hawkmoth was finally defeated months later, with a new team and a new Chat Noir, he pulled Marinette into a searing kiss as the rain began to wash Paris clean.

[domesticblisss]

Dark But Just a Game

Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader Rating: Mature (Minros DNI) Word Count: 1565 Warnings: Fluff, smut. Teasing, sexual tension, (semi) public shower sex. Inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song, Dark, But Just a Game. A/N: I love how Lana has at least one song on her albuns for depressed horny bitches like yours truly. This is the one from the new era, hope y’all like it.

I met Tim on a warm, end of spring night in may. It was almost 10pm when I got a call from the NXT medical team asking me to come quick, as per orders of one Mr. William Regal, because one of their superstars lost a few teeth during a Fight Pit match. Whatever that means.

When I arrived there, I was greeted by Mr. Regal, Hunter and one very disheveled and feral looking Timothy.

William introduced me to Tim, praising me. “Tim, she’s an oral surgeon, the best we know. Would you mind if she took a look?”

“Sure, go on doc.” he gave me a little nod.

“Could you please open your mouth?” I asked him as I put my gloves on. “Promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m used to it, doc.”

I took my time examining him, being careful to not cause him anymore pain.

“So, a molar, a premolar and the chipped top incisor.”

“No, not the front one. That’s my charm.” he cut me off.

“Yep, yes, it is. So, the molar and the premolar were ripped off right from their roots, that’s why you are bleeding so much. You’re going to need surgery to take whatever little pieces that are in there still and to get new ones.”

“How long is he going to stay out?” Hunter asked.

“I would give him four to six weeks. The implants take a little longer to heal. You can still use him for segments if you need, I don’t know what you guys have planned, but I would avoid having him getting his ass kicked.”

“Hey!” Tim intervened and I smiled at him.

“What do you say Tim? You good or do you want a second opinion?” Hunter asked him.

“I trust her.” he said looking straight into my eyes, giving me a toothless grin.

“I have a slow morning tomorrow,” I told him, looking at my phone’s calendar “you can come to the office at 9, is that good for you?”

He nodded.

“Great! This is my card, and my address is in the back. See you tomorrow!” I said my goodbyes smiling at him.

“Thank you for coming in such a short notice.” said Regal.

“No problem! I appreciate that you keep your men beating each other so hard that I still have a job! Bye Regal, bye hunter. Bye Tim!” ————————— Tim arrived fifteen minutes earlier then what was scheduled. He was a gentleman and very funny, always having a comeback to my jokes. I don’t know what it is about him that made that just made talking to him so easy.

“We are going to have three main appointments. Today I’ll take the x-rays to see what’s going on on that pretty little mouth and take off what is left of the teeth that broke off. This procedure usually takes three, four days to heal. We are also taking the moulds of your teeth so we can make the implants. Next week we will get the implants done and two weeks after that you come back so I can see how everything is going, okay?” I explained to him everything we were going to do.

“Sounds great, doc.”

Every appointment was the same, he would arrive at least fifteen minutes earlier, we would joke together and he would leave.

It was on the third appointment that he decided to ask me things about my life from outside the practice.

“You know, I always noticed that picture of yours. Do you still practice BJJ?” he asked.

“I do, every saturday.”

“Really?! Wow, I bet you could kick my ass.”

“Oh, trust me, I can. I’ll give it to in a silver platter too.”

“Do you wanna train with me?”

“Train with you?” he got me confused.

“Yeah, you show me some BJJ, I’ll teach you some catch wrestling. What do you say?”

“Oh, are you going to be mean to me just like you are with your students on Thatch as Thatch Can?”

“Even meaner.” he winked at me.

“Deal! You’ve got my number, if you figure out how to text, shoot me the address.”

And that’s how tuesdays and thursdays became Training Days with Timothy Thatcher. He got a friend that owned a gym and would give him the key to it so we could train in peace after its closing hours.

I have got to be honest, I was attracted to him from the first moment I saw him, and accepting to train him and with him was just an excuse to keep seeing him.

The mood between us changed right when the first move was locked in. He would still joke, but they got heavier, with double meanings, he was still very respectful, but the touches would linger a little bit longer than usual, and the tension got thicker and thicker. It felt like a game of cat and mouse, and I think I was the mouse this time.

Those days consists of us training, taking a shower on the gym’s locker room and grabbing something to eat on the diner on the corner of the gym. It didn’t just stop there, we would always ask each other out for drinks.

Sometimes with some of my friends, sometimes with some of his friends, but most of the times it was just the two of us in bars so crowded, so noisy, that we couldn’t help but have to stay extremely close each other, whispering on each other’s ears so whatever we said was heard, his hand on the small of my back in a protective manner so no one would bump into me. Those days were the worst, full of lingering stares, flirty smiles and soft touches and neither one of us made a move. Sometimes I think he knew how much he riled me up and felt pleasure on leaving me hanging.

————————— It was on a thursday when it all finally broke loose. I had had a full day on the office and was extremely tired for our sessions but didn’t want to call it out. Tim felt how tired I was and decided to turn up his teasing and his strength to 11. I wasn’t able to get out of a single one of his holds and tapped out of every submission he got me in. It was when he got me in crossface chickenwing, pressed his body closer to mine and whispered in my ear “It’s dark, but just a game.”

I tapped out and he finished the session there.

“The ladies locker room is closed, they started the renovations yesterday. You can use the male one.”

I nodded and made my way there.

I could still feel his touch on my skin and the way he pressed himself on the small of my back whenever he applied more pressure to a hold.

I heard a knock on the shower door before he started speaking.

“Hey, I’m sorry I got so hard on you today. I thought you were going to give in on the joke and cheer up a little, but I guess your day was harder than I thought. I’m sorry.”

I opened the door before he could continue, his eyes widened to the sight of my naked body in front of him

“I– I should– I–“

“Take off your shorts and get in here.” I cut him off.

He was quick and as soon as he got in the shower box with me, I pressed my lips to his.

He was eager, his hands going all over my body, squeezing my ass and slapping it.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed with this?” he asked.

“Since fight pit day?”

“Yeah.” he answered, pinching my nipple and biting my collar bone.

“Fuck, me too. You have no idea what you do to me, Tim.”

“Oh, I know, dove. Press your chest to the wall and spread your legs for me.” he asked so sweetly that made me tremble.

I did as he told and I felt him press his length inside of me, taking it slow, helping me get adjusted to how thick he is. He stopped once he was fully inside, turning my head to him, kissing my lips and asking “Ready?”

He started moving as I nodded “yes”, slow at first and gradually picking up speed, his right hand on my clit, and two fingers from the left one comfortably sitting inside my mouth, with me sucking on them as an attempt to muffle my moans.

I didn’t last long, overstimulated with the mix of his thrusts, the lazy rubs around my clit and the delicious sounds of his grunts. He came right after me, with my walls squeezing around him.

He slumped a bit behind me and I was thankful for the wall I was pressed on. It took a few seconds for him to start moving again, getting out from inside of me and snaking his arms around my waist, holding us together under the shower head.

“I meant it when I said I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” he started talking again after a moment.

“Me too.”

“So, is there any policies against dating a patient?” I could feel him smiling on the skin of my neck.

“I think I could make an exception for you.”

“Good! Wanna grab some dinner?”

“Would love to!”

[messagefromtheveins]

Snooze Button

A/N: Hi! It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry. But I’m finally back with a new fic! ... And a new obsession 🙈

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: Sebastian/Reader

Warning: smut

"Are you going to hit that snooze button another four times before you admit defeat or can we agree now that you won't go to work?" he murmured against your shoulder where he left tender kisses, the collar of the T-shirt you had stolen from him having slid off your shoulder during the night.

"You make it so hard to get out of bed," you complained, though it ended in a breathy moan as his mouth found the sensitive spot on your neck. His hands were almost sinfully exploring your back below the T-shirt, blunt nails lightly dragging along your spine that curved and arched under his touches.

Leaving tender kisses along your collar bones, he had to stop himself from smiling as he realized that you turned into putty in his hands. "Honey," he rasped in the way he knew always had you weak, not failing to notice the way you pushed even closer to him at the sound. His stubble lightly scratched your skin as he tilted his head up, teeth nibbling on your earlobe, "you make it so hard for me to let you out of bed when you look like this."

One of his hands instinctively followed the curve of your spine as you wrapped a leg over his hip, palm cupping your butt and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Like a scarecrow?" you grinned, followed by a squeak as he playfully pinched your butt.

Pulling back, he rested his head on the pillow you were sharing and looked at you with an expression in his eyes that gave you goosebumps- his hand trailing along your bare thigh certainly not making it any better. "Like the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on," he murmured, your hand that had slowly traced over his chest coming to an immediate stop. Your lips parted and he could see that despite wanting to say something playful in return, you were speechless. "I can't believe that I'm the lucky idiot who gets to see you wearing my T-shirts."

"So if I stop wearing your T-shirts to bed, you'll let me get up in the mornings?" you returned. A grin spread over his lips as he laughed, hitching your leg higher up on his waist before he rolled the two of you over.

Forearms bracing on either side of you, he kept most of his weight off you. "Unlikely," he smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. It started with a couple of tender pecks, his lips repeatedly finding yours while your hands traced over his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift under his movements. You couldn't help but smile softly as his teeth gently nibbled on your bottom lip, tugging a little until you finally parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss.

He was sporting a semi under his boxer briefs and he couldn't stop himself from rolling his hips forward as he felt your legs drawing up at his sides. The moan that you released went straight to his groin, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure for a brief moment while he repeated the motion. Your hands moved up to tangle into his hair as he pulled away from your lips, instead chasing the sensitive spots on your neck.

Head tilting back against the pillows, you bit your bottom lip and lightly tugged on his hair as he made his way down your body, his fingers toying with the hem of the T-shirt while he placed soft pecks down your body through the fabric. Though, just when he started pushing the hem up while he placed a handful of kisses below your chest the sound of your alarm filled the quiet bedroom once more, both of you groaning in annoyance.

"Can we make a deal?" he asked and rested his chin on your ribs, watching as you grabbed your phone and silenced it again. Your eyes met his, the curiosity written in them silently telling him to continue. "You turn that off for good and I'll be quick so you get to work in time."

The way your eyebrows raised made him chuckle before the words had even left your mouth. "You? Quick?" you asked, a certain kind of disbelief lingering in your voice. It was no secret that he loved to worship your body, loving to explore every inch of you to find all the spots that drove you insane, all the spots that had you saying his name in that breathy half-moan that he adored so much.

"I can be quick!" he defended himself, though your eyebrows only raised higher in return. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he sat up on his knees between your legs and grabbed your phone, quickly turning the alarm off- because you had hit that fucking snooze button once more- before he carelessly tossed it to the free side of the bed. He could see the excitement that lingered in your eyes, knowing exactly how much you loved to challenge him.

Your hips lifted off the bed as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, swiftly tugging them down your butt before your legs raised in the air, a playful grin resting on your features as he slowly peeled the piece of fabric off. He let himself get distracted for a moment as he dropped your panties aside while you placed your legs back down, spread open and curling around him.

Icy blue eyes found yours, a hand bracing beside your head as he leaned over you. Your hands reached up, palms cupping his scruffy jaw, the teasing words that lingered on your tongue vanishing in less than a heartbeat as his thumb pressed down on your clit without any warning. "Oh-" your chest arched and a quiet moan left your parted lips, barely taking note of the way his features shifted against your palms as he smirked.

He desperately wanted to take his time with you, to keep you in bed for the whole morning, to explore your body in ways that he had done so many times before and yet didn't grow tired of it. But he knew that it would be a lost battle, that he couldn't convince you to skip work today. So he figured the least he could do was to help you start your day right.

Nudging the tip of his nose against yours, he closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a soft kiss while his thumb moved in figure eights over your clit. The kiss didn't last too long as he slowly pushed a finger into you, your lips breaking away from him with a gasp. You were left breathless as you watched him shift down your body, not stopping his fingers from moving while he settled down between your legs, your thighs thrown over his shoulders as he finally dove in.

His tongue replaced his thumb, your thighs tensing as he skipped all teasing and immediately sucked and licked the bundle of nerves in all the right ways while he added a second finger. "Oh my- Seb," you whimpered, your hands in his hair again.

He was sure he'd never get tired of getting to taste you like this, to hear the sounds that left your lips when he sucked on your clit just right, to see your back arch off the bed when he crooked his fingers to find that one spot. He was achingly hard in his boxers as you tugged on his hair and gasped his name.

His fingers moved and crooked with the perfect pace that fit to his tongue rolling over and around your clit, his chin already glistening as he worked you closer and closer to your high.

Though, he was surprised just how fast he managed to throw you over the edge, his gaze shifting up to take you in as you came undone below him. Your fingers tightly held on to his hair while your chest arched, thighs trembling and breathing rapid as your walls clenched over and over around his fingers, his name falling from your lips in a broken moan.

Slumping into the mattress, you took a deep breath followed by a whine as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, his lips placing two soft tender kisses against your swollen and sensitive clit before he pushed himself up. "Told you I can be quick," he murmured with a grin and brought his hand to his face, licking your juices off his digits while his eyes trailed down your body.

Leaning over you, he placed a lingering kiss on the side of your neck- not sure if you would want to taste yourself first thing in the morning- before he climbed off the bed. "What about you?" you mumbled and forced yourself to get out of bed, too.

You wanted to climb right back into bed and drag him with you as you caught sight of him. Standing just a few steps away from you, shirtless, his hair a beautiful mess and a suggestive smirk playing on his features. One of his hands reached down to cup himself through his boxer briefs, a whimper almost escaping your throat as you watched how he gave himself a quick squeeze. "I can wait until tonight," he told you and gave you a wink.

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