#So sick of waking up to blow my nose for god knows how long

[creamsickle-writes]

Slip of the Tongue: Roronoa Zoro xF!Reader

Tags: nsfw, hate sex, dirty talk, and vaginal sex

“You should’ve let me handle it!”

You scowled as you attempted to keep up with the swordsman of your crew. His strides were long as he walked ahead of you. You two always got into fights like this. Zoro always knew just how to get under your skin.

“What? You want me to play the damsel in distress?” You scoffed, storming along in Zoro’s wake.

“That fight was dangerous, you could’ve gotten hurt!” Zoro retorted, finally stopping to turn around and face you. You stared him down, scrunching your nose as you do so. He always did this, he always underestimated your strength. So what if he was stronger than you? You were a capable fighter all on your own! You took personal offense to Zoro’s statement.

“What, do you think I can’t take them myself? Go fuck yourself.”

You two growled at each other, invading each other’s space. As you stared into each other’s eyes, neither one of you backing down, Nami got between you as she walked by.

“Oh my god, get a room already!” Nami sighed exasperatedly.

Your face and Zoro’s went red.

You and Zoro were at a loss for words at Nami’s sentiment. You both blubbered out nonsensical strings of words before you could finally piece sentences together.

“I would never fuck him!”

“And I don’t want to fuck you either!”

But she was already walking away by time you two were able to find your words.

Fucking Zoro… what kind of idiot would want to do that?

——-

The weeks went on and you two had argument after argument, spat after spat. You were getting sick and tired of dealing with Zoro’s nonsense. He was annoying, lazy, and generally an eyesore.

Yet every day you sparred with him.

Today you found yourselves on the beach, training on loose ground made for a good challenge. Everyone else on the crew was asleep in the Thousand Sunny by now.

You both fought hand to hand as Zoro humored you in your training. You two were evenly matched, attacking each other blow for blow. With every kick, he blocked. With every jab, you dodged. It went on like this for awhile.

“What’s wrong, Zoro?” You snarked, “You’re not doing so hot today!”

“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up-!”

You threw a punch at Zoro but he caught it with his hand. When you went to swing again, he caught that hand as well. You two were now at a stand still as you tried forcing your knuckles against his.

“Not fair!”

“Aw,” Zoro crowded your space, “You know, just because you’re losing doesn’t mean it’s not fair, brat.”

“Don’t call me that!” You successfully freed yourself from his fists. With that, you landed a kick clean on Zoro’s side. He hardly flinched.

“What? A brat?” He laughed, “Because that’s all you are, a sniveling little brat!”

You growled and charged at him, knocking him onto his back. He grew agitated as you held him down.

“Who’s the brat now?” You smirked, looking down at Zoro, strands of your hair falling in your face.

“Shut your mouth.” He growled out between his teeth.

“Or what, huh? What are you gonna do?”

“Don’t test me.”

“What?” You teased, “Are you gonna punish me?”

His cheeks went pink and you smirked at that reaction.

“C’mon Zoro,” you leaned forward, crowding his space, “Shut me up.”

His lips smashed against yours and your eyes shot wide open. His lips were chapped and his kiss was sloppy but for some reason, you enjoyed it.

Shit, you enjoyed it.

When he pulls away, he smirked at you, “That shut you up.”

You don’t get to think before you grab him by his jacket collar, pulling him in for another kiss. It takes him a moment but Zoro returns your kiss. The whole encounter is frenzied, intense, as if you both wanted this all along.

And perhaps you did.

As you kissed, Zoro had rolled you both over, making it so he was positioned on top of you now. As you both mashed your lips against each other, your hands ran up his chest. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t until he bit your bottom lip that you opened up for him, allowing him to explore the inside of your mouth. Your two tongues battled each other, neither one of you willing to admit defeat. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues slid against each other.

When you parted, you immediately went to pull his jacket off and he let you. Once his jacket wasoff, your eyes latched on to the long scar that spanned from his shoulder to his waist. You looked up at his face to see his brow furrowed, his golden earrings dangling from his ear.

God, he was so hot.

Your thoughts were interrupted as he ripped your shirt clean in half, the cool night air hitting your breasts. You’re about to complain but he’s immediately on your breasts, sucking and pinching at them. You moaned and grabbed his cropped hair, pulling him in even closer. He sucked harshly on your nipple, drawing out moans and groans from your throat.

As he toyed with your breasts, you reach between the two of you, going straight for his crotch. You began rubbing the growing tent in his boxers, making it pitch itself even higher. He groaned against your chest.

“Looks like you’re already hard, Zoro.” You teased, “What, did you get turned on from a fucking kiss?”

Zoro grunted and pulled your hips upwards, pressing his clothed bulge against your pussy.

“So what if I did, huh?”

“Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?” You snarked and Zoro ground his hips into you, causing you to gasp. You gripped his shoulders tight as he continued, moans spilling from your throat. Your stimulated pussy began to grow wet.

“And don’t you think it’s pathetic how you’re moaning for me just because I rubbed up against you?”

“Shut up.” You say, diving in for another kiss. It was heated and intense, your tongues immediately finding each other. They performed an elaborate dance, competing to see who ends up on top.

As your tongues fought, Zoro unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your thighs. You complied and kicked them off the rest of the way, the garment lost in the sand. But Zoro didn’t have the same type of patience with your panties. He ripped them right down the middle, exposing your puffy lips to the air.

“Shit!” You cursed, “I liked those too!”

“I’ll pay you back later.” Zoro huffed, the issue irrelevant to himself. He positioned you so that your thighs are spread wide, your pussy exposed completely to him.

He was quick to work himself out of his green haramaki and dark pants. You looked him over and your eyes instantly widened. You licked your lips, he was massive. His cock was lengthy, thick too, with a prominent vein along the underside.

The man grounded his feet in the sand, kneeling above you, before slamming in, causing you to squeal.

His pace is firm right off the bat, fucking you with the intent of making you scream. You tried to find purchase in the sand, but the loose particles simply slipped through your fingers. You moaned as his hips slammed into yours, he felt so good inside you. You gripped his back, digging your nails into his muscular back.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned, fucking into you, “All this just because I was a little rough with you. What a whore.”

“Fuck you.”

Zoro laughed as his hips slammed into you. Your body began to heat up as you felt your pleasure overwhelm you. It felt so intense, so good, as Zoro’s swollen head rammed against your cervix.

“C’mon,” Zoro growled, “You love this. Admit it.”

“Meh,” You smirked, “I bet Sanji could fuck me better.”

His hips still and suddenly you felt as though you made a mistake.

“What did you just say?”

You swallowed, your voice going shaky, “Y-You heard me! He would probably- hey-!”

Zoro took your legs and pushed them as far as possible, the tops of your thighs touching your breasts. He immediately slammed in, his cock going much deeper than it did before. You see stars when he penetrates you.

“Say that again!” Zoro growled, his hips forcibly slapping against you, “Say that stupid cook could fuck you better again!”

“I’m sorry!” You choked out, barely able to get your words out as Zoro fucked you so aggressively. Amongst the waves you could hear the slapping of skin against skin as Zoro punished you for speaking out of turn. Your eyes rolled back, it felt so incredible.

“That’s right.” He snarled, “Who’s the only one who can fuck you this good, huh?”

“Zoro!”

“Good girl-!” It comes from the back of his throat as he pumps himself inside you.

You reached for his back, dragging your nails along the exposed skin. As his hips moved, they began to grow frantic, his pace becoming uneven. As he desperately mashed his hips against yours, he pressed his forehead against your own.

“Shit, I fucking love you-!”

Your heart skipped a beat and before you can say a thing, he’s cumming deep within you. You moaned as he filled you up, your toes curling as he did so. You pant out as he pulls away, his thumb now toying with your clit as he fucks his cum into you.

You rolled your eyes back as your pleasure continued building within you. Your back arched off the sandy beach floor, the waves lapping on the shore. You came as he continued circling your clit, juices oozing out of your pussy.

You’re left panting, your hand on your chest as you attempt to catch your breath. Zoro flopped next to you, staring up at the night sky.

You both sat in silence as the realization of what you did dawned on you both. You’re the first to speak.

“So,” you smirked, “You love me, huh?”

Zoro turned bright red.

“Don’t let it go to your head, brat.”

And with that, he flicked your forehead.

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece smut #anime #fanfiction #x reader #cream's fics

[sickiesope]

Hello!! Huge fan of your work! Thanks for all the amazing stories:)

Could I request a sick Yoongi and Hoseok who came down with a sneezy cold after a photoshoot in the rain. It is autumn and both are feeling cold. They kind of take care of each other. Yoongi wakes up with a fever as Hoseok slips under his blankets. He welcomes the younger warmly.

Omgg this request is soo cute! 🥰 I'm uhhh, still not that good at writing snz but I tried my best here! 😅

Autumn night

Sickies: Yoongi and Hoseok

Caretakers: Yoongi and Hoseok

Hoseok and Yoongi stand in front of the trees with orange and yellow leaves. They're wearing all black and sporting long wool coats. They both embrace each other and the photographer loves their acting. "Yes, that's perfect! Take a few more like that!"

But Hoseok and Yoongi aren't acting; they're actually getting cold and huddling together. But if it also fits the theme of their photos, then that's a nice bonus. The rain came down more than predicted and they just did a fall themed photoshoot.

"Alright, that's a wrap! It's coming down pretty hard."

Yoongi and Hoseok both sigh in relief but also can't wait to see how the pictures turn out. It's been a long day but that's the life of an idol.

****

"Well my hair got wetter than I wanted" Yoongi sighs. "But it was still fun!"

Hoseok takes off his wool coat that's now quite damp. He's feeling cold and that wasn't helping. His voice sounds a bit funny "I think my nose is kinda stuffed." *sniffle*

"Yeah, I'm not feeling so hot either" Yoongi is also sniffling to his own dismay.

"I think we were outside for a little too long.. I can't believe we did that in the rain!"

Hoseok and Yoongi help dry each other off. Hoseok pat dries Yoongi's head with a soft fluffy towel, careful not to mess up his hair more. Yoongi gently pat dries Hobi's face. The younger kept looking up and getting rain in his eyes, which Yoongi found hilarious. After a long day outside they're both ready to hit the hay.

****

Yoongi is trying to get comfortable in bed but having great difficulty. He keeps randomly waking up and his head feels warm. He's certain that he's catching some kind of cold. He also keeps sneezing and blowing his stuffed up nose, which has been quite annoying.

Hoseok lightly knocks on Yoongi's door that's ajar. "Hyung?" he murmurs.

Yoongi gets startled at the sudden noise but once he sees it's Hoseok he relaxes his shoulders. "Hoba, you're still up too?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry hyung but I can't sleep..and I'm not feeling too well.." the younger says in a small voice.

Yoongi looks at him understanding "awwh, I know what you mean Hoba. Come lay in bed with me, I'm so cold." Yoongi lifts up the blankets and shifts over a bit. Hoseok smiles happily taking the invite. He joins Yoongi in bed and they cuddle together for warmth.

"Hyung, I think you have a slight fever" Hoseok notices. "I think--" he's cut off by a loud messy sneeze. "Ugh, oh my god" Hoseok takes several tissues, not wanting to be seen. Hoseok lost count of how much he's blown his nose. "My nose is a runny faucet. We're gonna need another box!"

When Hoseok gets up to find a new one he's tiptoeing and trying hard not to sneeze too loud. He feels another one coming and tries to muffle it hiding in his arm but doesn't go too well. Hoseok looks at his other members' doors, worried that they'll come out and scold him for making too much noise. But surprisingly no one does to his relief.

While he's up Hoseok makes them both chamomile tea. "Here, hyung" the dancer hands him his mug. "This should help warm us up."

"Ah, thank you Hoba" Yoongi murmurs, smiling cordially. He takes small sips and likes the warmth of it going down.

"I took out the extra blanket. Its fleece so it's soft and comfortable." Yoongi wraps it around Hoseok and himself and they snuggle. "I hope we didn't wake anyone with our sneezing."

#bts sickfic #sick!yoongi #sick!hoseok #caretaker!yoongi #caretaker!hoseok #request #bts snz

[lovejosephquinn]

hey hope you are good, i really like your fics, people should request you more often (: can i request joe x reader where reader (girlfriend) is sick in bed and joe does everything he can to look after her and make her feel better even if it means getting sick himself, make it so damn fluffy / smutty, whatever you want, thank you xxx

Hi lovely, thank you for your support! I think it's so good when people request things, really gets your creative flare going! Hope you're doing good too! This is lowkey so cute, yes, I will do my best to deliver. I haven't written a large amount of smut in a long time, so I hope it's okay!!

Warnings: fluff from our favourite boy and smut from our favourite boy, nothing more. under 18 DNI x

Word Count: 1.7k

I'll Look After You Joseph Quinn x Reader Short Story Request

There's always that calm before the storm. You know the night you start to feel a little bit yucky but put it down to tiredness or that you've just had a really shitty week. Then as the days go on your bones start to ache, you get the headache, sore throat, followed by the snotty nose and then chesty cough? Yeah, sick was going to be an understatement. You'd caught the god damn flu.

The majority of the night you'd had yourself propped up, sneezing and blowing your nose once every 20 minutes. You'd start to drop off and then you'd begin the vicious cycle again. Those were the worst kind of nights. Your boyfriend had since got back from a Comic Con event as was absolutely exhausted with jet lag, but he knew it wasn't your fault and refused to leave your side when you told him to go sleep in the spare bed so he could at least get a good amount.

With some form of miracle, you managed to fall asleep at some point, waking up early that morning after little to no sleep at all, you lifted yourself up and rubbed your eyes until you were seeing stars and swirls. You felt your boyfriend's hand rest upon your back as he drew little patterns around it. "You don't sound like you slept good last night, love." Joe mentioned with a low voice having just woken up himself. "No, terrible. I feel like death warmed up." Joe pulled you down into a warm embrace, you laid your head onto his chest whilst he wrapped his arm around you, and his other hand moved up to your hair, stroking his fingers through it. "Well looks like I'm going to be playing Doctor today, doesn't it?" That made you let out a slight giggle which obviously irritated your throat and made you cough. You sat back up and blew your nose for what felt the billionth time. "Ugh, how much snot does one little body part have?" Joe shook his head at you, sat up behind you, kissed the crook of your neck then snook a glance round to face you from your side. "I don't know but, my girl still looks plenty beautiful; even with tissue stuck to the end of her nose." You put your fingers to your nose to find that he was obviously letting you know what was left from blowing. Your head fell into your hands. "Wow, attractive." you earned a laugh from Joe. "Always."

Whilst you managed to get some sleep, Joe ceased the moment to get out of the apartment where he went to the shops to find you things to make you feel better. He contemplated orange juice or apple juice but got both anyway because he knew you liked them. He got you your favourite chocolate, a box of tissues and some flu medication.

Coming back in and checking on you, you were fast on - Joe snook the tissues and medication onto your bedside table. He knew it was a good time to conduct his plan further on making his one and only patient feel as good as she possibly could. He set out a tray, where he poured a glass of orange juice, put your chocolate on there. Going into the little draw full of stationary you owned, he found a little flash card notebook where he wrote a cute little message on one and made one into a coupon for you to redeem.

He walked back in the bedroom with the tray of goods as you stirred, you groggily opened your eyes to see your perfect man stood at the end of the bed holding something.

"There's tissues and meds on the side, love. And these are some treats for you." He smiled as he sat with the tray and set it down beside you. It undoubtedly made you smile with no hesitation. You sat up and lent against you pillow whilst you chuckled at the juice and chocolate. "I got you apple juice too but google said Vitamin C is better for flu." your smile grew even further.

You picked up the note folded in half and opened it.

'Hi, baby. I know you're feeling like shit, but I just want you to know that whatever you need, I'm here. I wish I could take it all away, so you didn't have to suffer. Keep fighting that nasty bug away. I love you so much Y/N. Your Joseph xxx'

You gestured for him to move the tray to his side table so you could use some energy to move. He did exactly that and you were quick to lift yourself up and wrap your arms around him. "I love you too, so, so much!" Joe returned your hug. "There's one more thing."

You released him from your mini cuddle and grabbed the second card off of the tray. 'Coupon for one free massage from the best Doctor there ever was.'

"I think I'll take that massage, right now Dr. Quinn."

Joe pulled his sleeves up ready. "Say no more, love. Onto your stomach you go."

Joe sat to the side of you for a good 20 minutes where he began to knead his knuckles into your back, he stroked up and down your spine which made you shiver, where then he massaged your shoulder blades and all the way down to the lower part of your back, rubbing around the parts you asked him too more where it felt good.

His eyes glanced further down to see that the covers were falling slightly from where your bottom half was covered before, and Joe took the golden opportunity to squeeze your bum cheek. You let out a quiet squeal when it made you jump a little. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." He planted a kiss on top of each cheek and then proceeded to kiss all the way to your lower back and up your spine till he reached your shoulders. You watched him as he got up to the top and he came and laid beside you. "Hello." you sniggered at him.

"The massage includes one more thing." Oh, you got the hint straight away. Here he was, your horny boyfriend. You loved his dark side. He pushed your shoulder lightly to indicate to lay onto your back. You say nothing and you knew you wouldn't deny Joe of what he wanted to give you, just as you knew you'd always want what he had to give. Just like that he was leaning over the top of you, giving you a quick peck on the lips, moving down to your jawline. Spending a little time onto your neck where he licked and sucked on your favourite spot, he knew you well and it made your thighs clench together at the bolt of electricity that it sent flying downward.

He began to kiss lower until he stopped at your breasts, massaging your nipples with his tongue as he slowly let them harden whilst circling around them one by one. Your whimpers only egged him on.

Kissing down to your stomach, he then rested in-between your thighs and kissed the inner part of them. Your whimpers became louder and more apparent. "Joe, please." He was interrupted by your need to beg; he knew by kissing your body for a while before would get you ready for where he needed to end up. "What do you want, love?" You were putty in his hands by this point, you made an inaudible sound and he let you off this one time because you weren't in the greatest of states. "This?" He licked a stripe straight between your folds and onto your core. You reached down to move your fingers into his hair, slightly gripping and slightly pulling letting him know exactly this is what you wanted, without words.

Opening your thighs further and shoving his tongue right to your clit, he began to rub circles and flicker over it, massaging softly, barely touching it. Your moans were electrifying to him, they were a sound which sent his mind and body soaring. Joe progressively got faster, and it had got you writhing under his touch. He moved down to tongue fuck your hole and removed one of his hands from your thighs, bringing two of his fingers to press down onto your now swollen clit to rub harshly. You were almost there, your stomach starting to gain that wonderful sensation when he stopped. No not now. He lent back up to you to kiss you, hard. Rubbing his hard erection through his clothing onto your thigh he brought his hand back down to your pussy and inserted two fingers without warning. He started to finger fuck you fast, making you arch your back; you could taste yourself on him. Not being able to breathe for obvious reasons, you pushed his chest, so he stopped kissing you, but he didn't give any hints of stopping of what he was doing down below, no he added a third finger which made you cry out. You were holding on by a thread now. His fingers curved up to hit your g-spot whilst he pressed his forehead to yours looking right down into your eyes. "Cum all over my fingers, baby. Show me how good I make you feel."

You were done for, the words he spoke finished you. If there was one thing about Joe, his communication was the sexiest thing you'd ever known. You leaked all over his fingers and a loud moan fell out of your mouth followed by his name several times. He removed his fingers and tasted them. "God I'll never get tired of that." He hummed soundly whilst you looked down to see his hard dick bulging through. "Don't worry about me love, that was all about you."

You sat up and got a couple of meds from the box, popped them into your mouth and took a sip of your juice. "That was, amazing." He then laid sat up beside you, patted down to his chest and took you back into his arms. He knew you weren't going to be cured, but he knew all of this would help you to relax. He lent his free arm up to grab your chocolate from the tray, opened it and fed you a piece. "How's my beautiful patient feeling?" you sighed in contentment more than anything.

"Surprisingly, good. Thanks to my handsome Doctor, I just hope you don't get sick."

"Don't worry about me, baby." He smiled down at you.

"If you do, I'll just have to nurse you back to full health, won't I?"

"Oh, holy shit, I'm sick all of sudden." You cackled as you sniffled your full nose. If you made it half as good for him how he did for you, he'd pretend just to get the same treatment.

#my asks #requests are open #request #short story #joe quinn fanfic #joequinn #josephquinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joe quinn x reader #joesph quinn #joseph quinn character #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x y/n #joe quinn x you #joe quinn smut #chocolate button eyes #eddie munson fandom #eddie the freak munson #eddiemunson #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[dullweapons]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (have fun my friend lol)

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬: a little assortment of sexual action prompts for rp purposes.

zelda was staying at his home in akkala for a few days to ❛ get to know each other ❜ before their wedding . probleming being ray only had a twin size bed for himself ... he decided it was best if she took the bed & he slept downstairs on the couch . it was about midnight when ray was getting himself ready to sleep & decided to check on his fiancée ⸻ tsk . the thought still soured his mood . he still was baffled that this was zelda's choice but ... if she wanted to rebuild hyrule & the royal family ray cadell was the closest thing to royalty beyond her .

he walked carefully up the stairs & slowly opened the door ( odd to be so silent entering his own room ... ) & saw her peacefully sleeping ⸻ a book open in her hands & more scattered across the bed with the candle burning low . the demon rolled his eyes ... of course , she loved her knowledge . ray appoched , picking up the books one by one & placed them on the bedside table before sliding the book out of her hands taking great care not to wake her . he placed the ribbon bookmark in it & set it with the rest . just glancing at the books he can tell all of them were old ... perhaps she's looking at history books looking for any signs of him ? moron ⸻ just ask . besides , half of it is wrong .

he stared down at her , pale skin washed out on his sheets & her hair hanging in her face . ray pulls the blanket up , making sure she is properly covered ... he stops for a moment . his head tilts to the side as he leans in closer ⸻ brushing those stray golden locks to the side as he listens to her breath ... so slowly . at peace ... how can one be so comfortable sleeping in the home of a demon . one that's screamed at you for your failure . so easily he could ... ( his hand slides down to her neck & hovers there for a moment . ) ... he could kill her . feast upon her body — when was the last time he ate a human ? gods , it's been too long . surely she would taste wonderful ; the blood of a goddess runs through her veins .

instead he pulls back & flicks her the middle finger right in her face before he blows out the candle & goes to his temporary bed in his living room .

the demon flops onto his couch , kicking off his boots & tugs the blanket over himself quickly . he just wants to sleep these days away but he knows better than to waste this ... ❛ opportunity ❜ . barely considered it a positive but he didn't exactly want this marriage to be ... horrible . he could play the part of a good husband . one faithful . one that at the very least looks happy to be with her out in public ... behind closed doors they could part ways . she could sleep with whoever she wanted & do whatever she needed to . her life would be over & done with sooner than his . he cared little for the years they would spend together ⸻ but he did need to know what she liked so he could play his part , albeit begrudgingly so .

as he grumbled to himself , finally he drifted off to sleep ...

he kissed her hand , then her wrist , then her arm ⸻ continuing up until he nestles himself in the crock of her neck & purrs into her ear . zelda giggles softly before pushing him back playfully to his side of the bed . they're supposed to sleep early tonight but how could she when he was going to act like ... like a love sick puppy !

❝ stop that ! you know that tickles ! ❞ she speaks with a smile as she tries to be firm with him but ray continues , nuzzling his nose as his hand comes to cup her check ; a place for her to rest her head as he kisses her so sweetly all over her shoulder & neck like tiny attacks .

❝ hm. i know . i like your laughter . ❞ he says between kisses . ❝ & you know that nightgown does things to me . your fault really . ❞ his hand reaches back , his fingers digging themselves into her blonde locks so carefully as he tilted her head back . but zelda was a bit of a firecracker ⸻ she can be stubborn . she can be bossy : he liked it when she took control ... & that she did . she pushes him off with enough force that he rolls onto his back & she sits on his lap , pinning his hands back . the demon is shocked for a moment before smiling up at her curious as to what his beautiful queen had planned .

❝ if this nightgown is the problem then ... perhaps i should get rid of it . ❞ zelda did not wait for a reply before slipping off the nightgown dress & tossing it off the bed . ray licked his lip as his hands came up to caress her body ; so smooth & soft again his war - hardened hands but , zelda grabbed his wrists & pinned them back above his head . ❝ now did i say you could ? ❞ ray shook his head but his eyes stared up , pleading . begging . zelda smiles at him & his heart skips a beat as she pulls of his pants & she grinds against him as his cock hardness itself between her lips . he groans out wanting more then this but he stays still : she'll go when she's ready , surly she would not tease him to death ? ah , but that smile tells him otherwise ...

his cock twitches , leaking precum as it presses against her excitedly . he moves his hips a touch aiming to get inside & she pulls back , flicking his nose . damn ⸻ he knows he told her in the bedroom she has control ( more so on their first night when she was nervous to bed a man for the first time ) but this is torture . he hates it ... he fucking loves it ! a low growl leaves him until finally zelda allows him the luxury of being inside of her : both moan out as she descends slowly , so very slowly until she has taken him completely . his head rolls back at touch as he basks in her warmth - her tightness on his cock & how he could feel her tighten ! cheeky ...

zelda leans forward , her eyes closed as she rests her hands on his chest as she begins to bounce - slowly at first but she picks up speed soon enough . he growls out , ignoring her command before to take her hips as he thrusts into her . he forces her down more & she jolts a touch ⸻ her face flushed as her eyes glazed over in pleasure .

❝ a-ah ! ray i said ⸺ ❞ he brings his thumb forward , pressing her lower abdomen & her eyes snap open at the new sensation & all words leave her as she grinds against him now more helplessly . ray loved that look on her face , so adorable ... never would he get enough of it . he pulls her down for a moment to kiss her , deeply & sweetly as he could hear the sickenly sweet slap of their bodys hitting one another ; sweat beginning to form on them . burning together in lust ⸻ no , it wasn't lust : he truly loves her .

he allows her to return up right as he holds onto her hips . as he looks up at her he cannot help but smile .

❝ thats it ⸻ thats my girl , you're perfect ... keeping going - i love you ... ❞ as he moaned out ⸻ he moaned aloud , in the waking world with his arms clasping the air where zelda's hips should be ; his own hips bucking at nothing but the blanket that hung around him & his body shivering in pleasure . finally he opened his eye ... zelda ? he looked around for his wife , confused for a moment before realizing it was a dream ... fuck .

his brows furrow & he stares at his ( now very tight fitting ) underwear with anger . whose side are you on ?! tsk ⸻ he should handle this before zelda wakes up & she will very soon . she's quite the early bird .

#regnantlight #⸻ ship : ray & zelda ( regnantlight ) ✦ i hate you i say . then i kiss her and kiss her and kiss her … ˎˊ˗ #⸻ RAY : smut ✦ we're plotting our demise of perspiration & alcohol as i introduce the bedroom brawl ˎˊ˗ #⸻ RAY : drabble ✦ its written in dead tongues ˎˊ˗ #⸻ RAY : answered ✦ i keep everything i get ˎˊ˗ #( ray @ his own dick : TRAITOR !!!!!!!! ) #spicy tw

[magicmindless]

Here’s now another fanfic I wrote a while back because of the headcanon that Duke has pollen allergies so enjoy

Disclaimer: I don’t usually censor cursing in my writing but in this it’s sort of meant as a joke because since they’re airing on live tv they have to censor swearing

Duke Got-choo

Date: March 30

Time: 8:00 am

Location: Nowtime News host room

Featuring: Duke Gotcha, Shannon, Didar, Simone

---

[The screen displays the logo of Nowtime News.]

Duke (slightly stuffy): Helloooooooo Flipverse welcome back to another breaking news by yours truly, Duke Goh…*sneezes*

[Duke unleashes a sneeze. It's loud, almost like a dad sneeze but not quite… Or it is it’s up to you.]

Shannon: Bless you sir, everything okay?

Duke (slightly stuffy): Yeah yeah I'm fine! It's just allergies, I'm not sick again, I promise.

[Duke blows his nose into a pink handkerchief. A headline appears below him: “Spring has sprung... And hayfever”.]

Duke: Spring has finally arrived after the frigid winter. Things will be getting warmer, the cherry blossoms will begin to sprout, and... Pollen season. Every year millions of people have to wake up, and go out the door to risk looking like you're crying all the time, not being able to smell, and a whole lot of sneezing. For most it’s only a-an I...

[Duke put a finger under his… nose to stop himself from sneezing and continued talking.]

Duke: An inconvenience for day-to-day life during the spring time but I nearly rammed a guy’s car... Twice. I ran out of Claritin this morning but I didn't have time so I just left. Lemme tell you, there is nothing more horrifying than sneezing on a highway. That guy was not happy... *sneezes,* ugh, bless me. In other news:

[A headline appears: Cherry Blossom Festival in full swing]

Duke (slightly stuffy): It’s a safe bet to say that one of the most beautiful aspects of spring is flowers, and cherry blossoms are no exception *under his breath* even if they cause eternal suffering.

[Didar, the cameraman, was giggling, but trying his hardest not to be heard, but he was noticed anyway.]

Duke: The festival is-*sneezes* *sniff* excuse me. Um, Didar, I can hear you behind the camera.

Didar: *giggling* Sorry.

Duke: I don’t think you’re sorry- are you laughing at me?

Didar: Heh, maybe.

Duke: Oh, you think my misery is funny?

Didar: Well, it’s amusing.

Duke: Really?

Didar: I mean, schadenfreude my guy.

Duke: What? You saying you have allergy pills or something?

Didar: Hehe, no, cause I don't have allergies.

Duke: At all?

Didar: No because I have a non-sh*bleep*ty immune system.

Duke: Wow *chuckles* you are quite a treat you know?

Didar: Oh, I know.

Duke: Anyway, the Cherry Blossom Festival is-*sneezes* my God, again? The Cherry Blossom Festival is a holiday to celebrate the friendships between the towns and to appreciate nature in all its glory. Sakura Bay is most know for their festivals. They always go all out with treats and festivities. It’s probably some of the best weather to have a picnic as well (granted that you’re not me).

Well, that’s all we have for the morning news. Until next time, Duke, Got- *sneezes* oh come on!

Didar: Cut!

Shannon: Alright everyone take five!

[The bell rang. Duke sighs in relief and walks off set, blowing his nose. Shannon is speaking to an assistant.]

Shannon: May you please go run to the pharmacy and get some Claritin?

Assistant: Okay.

[The assistant runs off. Shannon walks over to Duke.]

Shannon: Everything okay sir?

Duke: Oh, I'm wonderful.

Shannon:

Duke: *sigh* I’m so done with this season.

Shannon: I can tell, you're not as enthusiastic as you usually are.

Duke: How long until Jakkob comes back?

Shannon: It takes ten minutes to get to the pharmacy and back so you probably won’t have them in time for the next segment. Do you-

[Duke sneezes as Shannon is talking.]

Shannon: Bless you, do you think you can hold off ‘til lunch break?

Duke: Sure, I'll be okay *sniffle.*

Makeup artist: Sir, can you come with me? I need to retouch your makeup.

Duke: Okay.

[After Duke got his makeup retouched, they started setting up for the next segment. Didar was setting up the camera, Simone was testing the mic, and Duke was trying to maintain his composure.]

Shannon: And we're rolling now!

[The Nowtime News intro played on screen before Duke.]

Duke: Helloooooooo Flipverse welcome back to another breaking news by yours... *sneezes* yours truly, Duke Gotcha!

Shannon: Oh boy...

Duke: Now in today's news:

[A headline appears: Bats loose in Frostfield!]

Duke: Today in Frostfield, many citizens have been reporting seeing- *sneezes* flocks of bats… *sneeze* bless me, everywhere. It’s unknown how many there may be out there. However, citizens have been agreeing...-*sneezes* it's a bit odd, ho- *sneezes* um-

[Duke proceeds to have a sneezing fit on camera. It was so loud that Simone had to move the mic away to make the volume bearable for her.]

Shannon: Sir, are you okay?!

Duke (stuffy): I’m trying to be!

Shannon: Maybe we should take a longer break...

Duke (stuffy): Agreed.

[As Duke gets up from his desk, he feels something under the table. It felt fuzzy. He stops.]

Duke: What the...

[He stands up and reaches under the table. He pulls out a strange plant.]

Duke: What the heck is this?

Shannon: That's called ragweed sir.

[When Duke holds the weed closer to his face, he immediately sneezes into his sleeve (not something he usually did, he always did his best to keep his suit spotless). Then, Didar bursts into laughter, and it didn’t take long for Duke to put 2 and 2 together.]

Duke: What the, huh? OH, YOU SON OF A B*bleep*CH.

[Duke drops the weed and runs behind the camera. Didar is already booking it around the studio as Duke chased him.]

Shannon: This has been... Quite a morning.

[Simone is shutting off the camera.]

Simone: I regret helping Didar… my ears will never be the same after this.

[End]

---

Bonus:

Shannon: Wait, you knew he did that? During break?

Simone: Yeah, saw him do it while you guys were gone.

Shannon: Why didn't you say anything?

Simone: Mama didn't raise a snitch.

Shannon:

Simone: What, do you snitch on your friends?

Shannon: …That’s my job Simone.

Another disclaimer: I don’t headcanon Didar being this much of a dick, he’s more of a silly little guy who me who likes pulling pranks but they’re usually harmless, but even silly little guys can go a little far.

#papa louie #flipline studios #papa louie Duke Gotcha #papa Louie Shannon #papa Louie Didar #papa Louie Simone #also Jakkob isn’t really anyone it’s just a random person I thought of

[blamblambitch]

If allergies was a person, I'd fucking strangle them

#So sick of waking up to blow my nose for god knows how long #Or sneezing my ass off in the morning #How could one person have so much fucking snot #Ugh #shut up keithy

[windwheeler-aster]

take care, love

summary: on one of your latest adventures, you accidently caught something. now you’re forced to stay in bed,  leaving your loving girlfriend to take care of you. 

masterlist

pairings (separate):  amber, lisa, beidou, jean, and ninggung x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them) and pet names (love/dear/honey), reader is not traveler

word count: 1,770 words

genre: romance, fluff, comfort

format: small blurbs and headcanons

warnings: reader is sick and/or injured

a/n: like last time, songs for each character mentioned 💖 also, thank you all for the love on my last post! every like and reblog meant everything to me. 

song recommendation: LOVE UR NAME by MICHELLE

she was running up to hug you as you were entering the gates of mondstadt

but when she got closer, she saw the snot that dangled from your nose

amber does hold your hand as you are brought home

she starts a bath for you, assuring you that this was going to help you

while you’re in the bath, she’ll prepare some fisherman’s toast for dinner

when you come out of the bath, she’ll ask you how you’re feeling, if you want to go to bed, ect.

if you’re not feeling too great, she’ll bring you to bed and have you eat there, asking about your day and checking your temperate 

when you’re finished, she’ll say goodnight and go sleep on the couch 

she’ll ask jean for the next few days off to spend looking after you

but amber will be hesitant to give you kisses, so you’ll have to settle for the kisses she blows your way

until she gives in and kisses you, and then gets sick 

Amber hovered over you, gently caressing your cheek. Normally, on mornings like this, she would be waking up beside you. But since you caught that cold from adventuring...

“Baby, could I just have one kiss?” You pouted. “Please?”

“I don’t want to get sick,” Amber explained. She checked your forehead again. It wasn’t as hot as before. “I can’t stay in bed all day. You know that.”

“I’m feeling much better now...” 

“Babe.”

“Please?” You weakly asked. “I haven’t gotten a kiss for three days! How long to you expect me to last?”

Amber chuckled at your dramatics. “Fine. One kiss.”

Gently, Amber leaned down to press a long kiss on your lips. Amber pulled away when she thought you had enough.

You grinned. “See? Everything’s fine-” 

Amber felt a tickle in her nose and turned the other way. She sneezed into her elbow, paused, and sneezed into it twice more. Amber looked to you, sniffling. 

“I told you so!” Amber snickered. “Now scoot over.”

song recommendation: oh GOD by Orla Gartland

she’s finishing up her shift at the library when she sees you coming through the doors

you’re beaming, hands outstretched, and ready to hug her

normally, she’d rise from her chair and meet you halfway

but your eyes looked red, and there were heavy bags under your eyes. and now that she thought about it, you were moving sluggishly

lisa slowly met you halfway, concern very present on her face

she’ll make you sit down while she examines you

when lisa realises that you’re sick, she’ll bring you straight back home

lisa will tuck you into bed, promising that she’ll be back in an hour

she knows there’s a cure for what you have in some book at the library... she just knows it

while you’re resting, lisa will be looking for some ingredients for the medicine

so, while you’re just waking up from a lovely nap with a head and stomach ache, wondering where your lovely girlfriend is-

There was a knock on the door, waking you up. You sat up to answer.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s me, darling.” Lisa sang out.

You sighed and gave permission for her to come in, laying back down in bed. Your head hurt so much that you could feel it in your neck. The pain was awful.

Like an angel, Lisa entered the room with haste holding a vial with purple liquid. It sloshed around inside the vial as Lisa walked. She hurried over to your bedside, sitting down with you.

“Darling, can you drink this for me?” Lisa asked. “I promise you that it doesn’t taste horrible, like pumpkins or something.”

You buried yourself under the covers. “Lisa, pumpkins aren’t even that bad.”

“We’ve been over this before darling- Ugh! Never mind, just... please drink this for me.”

Poking your head from under the covers, you looked at the vial. Lisa helped your head out, making you sit up. She handed the potion to you, a hopeful look in her eyes as holds her hands.

You brought the potion to your lips and drank the whole thing. It wasn’t horrible, you’ll admit, but it had a weird aftertaste of warm butter. You handed the vial back to Lisa.

“How are you feeling? Better? Worse?” She asked.

You smiled at her. “Better, but a kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

Lisa met your lips, smiling into your kiss. When you two disconnected, she smirked.

“Welcome back, cutie.”

song recommendation: Stay With Me by Better Love

you and beidou always communicated between letters whenever you two were away from each other

she told you to wait at the docks for her, and wave at the crux to let her know you were there

when the crux came into the harbour, beidou ran straight to the railing to look for you

it was hard to find you, even when she asked some of the nearby crew to help her look

nothing. you weren’t near the harbour at all

beidou went straight home, a mixture of anger and worry controlling her

she’s always super affectionate when she comes home, and she really wanted to see you

she opened the door to your shared home, not too far from the harbour, and finally found you in the living room

snuggled in blankets with a bunch of crumpled up tissues on the coffee table

you looked so sick

“Beidou? Is that you?” You murmured. “Oh crap, I forgot to go down to the harbour.”

“Don’t stress about it.” She reassured. “Are you all right? You don’t look so hot.”

“Wow. I haven’t seen you for two weeks and that’s the first thing I hear from my girlfriend?”

“Oh my gods- you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

You chuckled. “I know, baby. I’m just a little sick, that’s all.”

“Come here.” 

Beidou hugged you, trying to kiss your face. You dogged out of her grasp and her love, whining. 

“I don’t want to make you sick!” You pleaded.

“I’ve been on the sea for most of my life, I think I can handle a cold.” Beidou argued. “Now, can I have a few kisses?”

You smiled at her, hesitation quickly leaving when you see her smile, then nodded. Beidou lunged at you, pulling you into a tight hug as she kissed all over your face. 

song recommendation: putting a spin on iris by Egg

you left this morning to confront some hilichurls that blocked the path, promising to be back tomorrow at the latest

jean just emerged from her office after being stuck in there for hours

apparently the guards at the gates saw you limping, and you were escorted to barbara safely before she was alerted

when jean found you talking with barbara her heart swelled

1) because you were safe and alright, and 2) you and barbara were getting along swimmingly

jean thanked barbara, listening to her advise on what to do with you when you got home

she brings you home, walking home with your elbows interlocked

jean kisses all of your face when you’re inside while your bath is running

she’s all soft and just holds you for a while

jean’s just glad that you’re here with her now, that’s all

Jean held you close, your head resting on her chest. She had been stroking your cheek for the last few minutes. Jean would never admit it, but even a minute without you is unbearable.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Jean hugged you tighter. “Not good. You came home hurt.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.” 

“I know. It’s just...” Jean explained. “I’m just worried, okay? Next time you’re going out, I’m coming with you.”

She held your chin, tilting your head upwards to her lips. Jean moved to your lips, putting as much love into a kiss as she can. You two break away after a moment, hugging each other.

“Okay, but try not to boss me around. I know you’re just doing what’s best, but I would prefer my own thing when we’re travelling.”

Jean chuckled. “Since when have I bossed you around?”

“Whenever we make food together!”

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have a roof over our heads.”

“Oh, forget it.” You gave her another kiss. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

song recommendation: fever dream by mxmtoon

you two had made plans to have dinner at this lovely place nearby that offered a couple’s discount

you promised each other to meet up at home after ningguang’s meeting and after your errands

while she was stuck in her meetings, you were planning to get some of ningguang’s favourite flowers that grew in the wild 

and it didn’t go exactly as you planned...

and her meetings dragged on longer than ninnguang wanted, but that’s fine. you probably needed some extra time to get ready anyway

well, she was right about one thing: you were waiting at home for her

battered and covered in bruises, but in the nicest outfit you had

ningguang was fussing over you, asking you a million questions at once

and she wouldn’t let you leave the house injured, so date night has been moved

she made you have a bath and change into something more comfortable while she began to prepare dinner

for the rest of the evening she’ll be fussing over you, so worried that her partner is hurt

ningguang just cuddles with you for the rest of the day to make up for it

You laid your head in her lap. She stared down at you, the concern that was there an hours ago still present. Was she ever going to stop worrying about you?

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Nigguang.” You groaned. “If I wasn’t, you would know.”

“How did you even get like this?” She smiled briefly. “It can’t be that bad, right?” 

“I...uh, I tried getting you some flowers and ran into some trouble on the way.” You explained. “They’re in a mason jar on the counter, look.”

Pointing her in the direction, Nigguang saw three beautiful silk flowers. Their scents weren’t strong enough to carry towards you two, nor were they put in the prettiest jar, but Nigguang seemed to love them. 

“Aw, they’re beautiful.” She leaned down and gave your temple a kiss. “You’re so sweet. How about we go flower picking together next time?”

You put your hands behind your head, relaxing comfortably. “Hmm. If I knew I would get treated like this, I would get hurt more often.”

Nigguang glared at you.

“Kidding, love.” You laughed nervously. 

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

#wheeler's works #genshin headcanons #genshin blurbs #genshin impact x reader #amber x reader #amber x reader headcanons #amber headcanons #lisa x reader #lisa x reader headcanons #lisa headcanons #beidou x reader #beidou x reader headcanons #beidou headcanons #jean x reader #jean x reader headcanons #jean headcanons #nigguang x reader #nigguang x reader headcanons #nigguang headcanons #fluff #romance #comfort #sick au #comforting au #injured au #sick reader #injured reader

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

--

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-” you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

--

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

--

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

#the gentlemen #tgm #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #vminkook smut #vmin smut #jikook smut #taekook smut #i don't even know how to tag anymore fksdfjsk

[seiyasabi]

Yamaguchi’s Awakening

(Here’s a Yandere Yamaguchi Tadashi x Female Reader story :PP I know you only mentioned a Mommy fic, but I kinda added a lil more ‘spice’ to that lol, so I hope that’s okay! If not, feel free to message me! Also, he’s known the stutter, so I made it a bit prevalent in the story. Sorry if that’s annoying.

TW: !Noncon/dubcon!, Mommy kink!, !You are p mean lol, Painslut Yama!, Masochist Yama!, You physically fight him but he loves it, practically wrestles you to the floor!, thigh fucking, creampie!, Calls himself baby boy but alternates that w ‘pig slut!’, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!) 

You woke up to Tadashi’s moans, eyes practically popping open in both terror and confusion. You’d taken a nap whilst waiting for him to come home from work, but you hadn’t expected to wake up to such a lewd sound. 

Pushing yourself up with shaky arms, your slip’s thin straps slide off of your moisturised shoulders, causing more of your cleavage to show in the skimpy garment. Tired eyes land on the green haired man’s slumped form, his long, lean body practically falling off of a plush chair on the other side of the room. His large hand is fisting his cock at an alarming pace, while his hips stutter upwards to meet his ministrations. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You frown in mild annoyance, scoffing in disgust. Is he really getting off to your sleeping form? 

“Mu-Mommy!” His face is pulled into the perfect Ahegao expression, tongue lolling out stupidly, as drool drips down his chin. Beads of sweat intermix with his perfectly scattered freckles, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tsukishima helped him kidnap you, you most likely would have found it arousing, “Puh-Please pu-punish me! I-I’m such a-a bad boy!” 

Screwing your face up in disgust, you practically spit venom at him, “Oh my God, you’re fucking disgusting. How dare you-” 

With a loud whine, he cums. His liquidy release coats his chest in large streaks, partially splashing himself in the face with his own spunk. The liquid creates a large puddle on the floor, demonstrating just how much semen he’s stored in his purple tinged balls. The sight before you has left you absolutely speechless, as Tadashi keens and whines for you to punish him. 

“Please, please, Mommy! I-I need you to-” 

“What the actual fuck did I just witness?” Your eyes never leave the puddle on your room’s wood look tile, “Oh my God, you’re such a disgusting pervert.”

At your words, the freckled man practically throws his naked body onto your lap, “Yu-you chose me! That means that you love me, right? A-and if Mommy loves me, she should punish me for being bad! Please hit me!” His previously softened cock is now standing back at attention, humping at your exposed legs. 

One of your perfectly manicured hands (thanks to Yamaguchi’s hard work) shoves his head off of your stomach, “Get the fuck off of me! Clearly, I chose wrong, because you’re just a slobbering pig!” Tears bead his large eyes, but the tall man doesn’t back down. He continues to try to rut against you, causing your shoves to become more violent, until you effectively shove him off of your bed. He lands on the hard ground with a ‘smack,’ as he moans on impact. 

“Ye-yes! Hi-hit me mu-more! I de-deserve it, your baby bu-boy deserves it!” He tries once more to crawl his way onto you, but you react far quicker than him. You use the ball of your foot to push him away by the forehead, dropping him back onto the cold floor. 

“Stay the fuck away from me! I knew I should’ve liked your asshole for a best friend, at least he wouldn’t be such a fucking weirdo!” You push yourself off of your bed, trying to escape to the bathroom, but it’s to no avail. Tadashi, in some sort of lucidity, drags you to the ground with him. His lean form tries to trap you to the floor, but your thrashing limbs and harsh elbows keep him from getting too close, “Stop it! Let go of me-”

“Du-don’t say you want someone else! Your precious piggy will do anything you want! Let your baby boy make his Mommy feel good!” You end up on your back, allowing your hands to worm their way between the two of you, and create a small distance. Taking full advantage of that, you get a single hand up by your face, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slap the dogshit out of the feral man. 

He moans breathily, as if he’s savouring the feeling of your harsh touches, “You’re fucking pathetic, Yamaguchi. No one would willingly choose you, which is why you lied and manipulated me!” You smack him multiple more times, his freckled, drooly cheeks quickly becoming bright red. You force your knees against his toned stomach, kneeing him uncomfortably in the ribs, which he just pushed more of his weight on. 

“Yes! Yes! Tell me more of the things you hate about me! Your harsh words are almost enough to make me cum!” Screwing up your face in absolute fury, you punch him in the throat, whilst simultaneously kicking him in the cock, causing him to cum immediately with a small scream, “Mu-Mommy, your piggy is cumming!” His hot, watery cum lands on your slip clad body, making you want to vomit. So, in a last ditch effort, you shove him off whilst he’s still recovering from a second intense orgasm. 

Scrambling to your feet, you make a break for the bathroom door, only to be dragged down to the floor by a firm grip on your ankle. Tadashi’s hot, wet body slots itself on top of yours, effectively pinning you down. Although he may be quite slim, his sheer size is enough to weigh you down. 

“Get off of me! You’re fucking sick!” He pants next to your ear, practically trying to mount you like a dog. His chest is firmly against your back, pushing down your lower half. His knees spread yours apart, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. 

You try to hit him, but because he’s behind you, your hits don’t land very hard. Both of his hands fumble whilst he tries to push your panties down, causing you to thrash even more than before. Growing tired of your ministrations, he rips the garment from your pussy. 

“Stop it! Yamaguchi, get off of me! Don’t do this to me!” Tears drip down your face in thick rivulets, as you sob in pure fury, “I-I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never forgive a pathetic fuck like you! I should have never become your friend- you don’t deserve any!” He lightly moans at your words, not quite listening to what you have to say, but enjoying your harsh tone. 

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Threaten me! I love how you belittle me so well!” He then tries to force his long cock inside of you, but is unsuccessful. You’d just barely moved your thighs together in time, blocking him from breaching your unprepared walls. But, that doesn’t seem to faze him, as he starts to hump your sweat slickened thighs, “Oh-oh my God, your thighs feel so good, Mommy! Your piggy slut loves them!” His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head, as multiple squirts of precum escape his cock, slicking your pussy opening inadvertently. 

You throw your elbows at his head again, but he just lets them hit him, relishing your harsh blows. If anything, your attempted hits trigger him to hump you even faster. Which, in turn, unfortunately, causes him to accidentally hook his cockhead on your cunny opening, and force his prick inside of you. Your mouth gapes in both shock and pain, as you let out a shrill scream. He slams a sweaty hand over your mouth, fortunately minding your nose, letting you breathe through it. His entire body is convulsing, as he sits inside of you, relishing your twitching walls around his cock. 

“Mu-Mommy’s piggy lu-loves Mommy’s pu-pussy!” In quick, sudden movements, he bucks his hips into yours, his breeder balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. Your pants and light moans are muffled behind his hand, as you continue to cry and try to get free. Your thrashing does nothing but seat you further on his long cock, allowing him to hit your g-spot with every movement. Your pussy gushes at his ministrations, as you fall limp, “Fu-fuck, Mommy! Mommy, I-I’m gunna cum!” 

Your slack mouth tries to deny him, but your eyes practically roll up into your skull as you cum suddenly, spraying girl cum on his cock and on the floor below your chest, practically covering your entire torso. Feeling your orgasm milking his cock, Yamaguchi cums quickly after you, filling you to the brim with his watery, overabundant cum. It was like he was trying to fill every crevice inside of you with his milk, relishing how well you take him. You practically collapse to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold yourself off of the now slick wood look tile. This, in turn, causes his still cumming cock to fall out of you, spraying your ass and thighs with his seed. 

Yamaguchi strokes himself, trying to wring out as much cum as possibly on your crumpled, fucked out form. He looks down at you with an innocent grin, before smooching you kindly on the face, “Thank you, Mommy, your baby boy feels sooo much better, now that I’ve filled your pretty cunny! Do you want a bath?” 

You say nothing, seemingly still in shock at what just transpired. Yams coos at you, trying to gain your attention, but when you don’t respond, he takes it upon himself to clean you up. 

“It’s okay, sometimes when Tsukki would experiment with me, I’d be too sore to move, too! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all pretty and clean after a long, hot bath.” 

With wobbly legs, the tall man stalks off to the bathroom, not batting an eye at your weird silence. 

#yandere yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #tadashi x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu yamaguchi

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

[hannie-dul-set]

PAIRING. huang renjun x fem! reader. GENRE. high school! au, suggestive. WARNINGS. attempted murder, mentions of blood and self injury, veryy descriptive kissing, mc has a few screws lost, swearing, depictions of unstable behavior. WORD COUNT. 1.8k GENRAL TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @leejunini @astroboy-lele @unknown5tar @yunoyeol @w0nni3wrld @charm-art @bat-shark-repellant @keemburley @deliciouslyyellow​ (pls dm me to be added/removed!)

NOTE. ah yes, the only two genres: murder and making out. inspired by the dream i mentioned earlier. different events, but same vibe HAHA. disclaimer that no matter how much you hate your academic rival, never ever turn to attempted murder! thank you and enjoy

huang renjun— with all his picture perfect smiles, prim and proper tucked in shirts, a pretty face enough to have you on your knees, and with a perfect gpa to top it all off— was someone you wanted.

wanted six feet under the ground.

“hey, congrats!”

speak of the fucking devil.

“you always do really well,” huang renjun towers over you in front of your desk as you sit down. you look up from the wrinkled certificate that have the abhorrent words second honorable mention printed on it's scented surface, only to face his fucking face instead. he beams at you with a smile. you feel convulsions wringing inside your throat. “congratulations again.”

you don't miss the first honor certificate tucked between his books in a measly attempt of concealment. it takes everything in your power to force out something of a smile.

“thanks. you too.”

with that, he quickly scurries away into his seat next to yours with red ears.

your first period teacher enters, beginning class with a greeting, but your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only midterms, you breathe out through your nose, hugging your arms above your desk while sketching out a study plan for the rest of the semester in your head. there’s enough time before graduation. the hold you had on yourself gradually becomes tighter.

still, you know that even if you worked yourself day and night until you bled cold and crimson, huang renjun would still be one step ahead. you bite down your lip, peeling off the dry skin with a sourness writhing in your gut, digging your fingers deeper into your arms. if only he were gone. you leer at the boy diligently taking his notes beside you. if only he were gone gone gone gone—

your eyes widen, ignoring the blood staining your nails.

if only he were gone.

after class, you walk up to his desk and asked if he wanted to work on the physics homework at his place tomorrow. he says yes with starry eyes in a heartbeat.

the next day, renjun couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring. you, too, couldn’t remain in your seat— albeit for a different reason. so when the ringing occurs, the both of you don’t waste a second in finally heading out of the campus.

it’s a silent walk to his place, a standard suburban neighborhood, the sky slowly turning orange in the background. every time you turn your head to look at him, he looks back with a small smile, and you can’t help your hands from twitching at your sides.

renjun unlocks the door and meekly welcomed you inside.

“you can leave your shoes here,” he says, digging his keys into the back pocket of his school slacks with dangling noises. you look at him, smiling, and with a soft hum you leave your school shoes next to his, trailing behind him into the living room.

looking around, you ask him. “are your parents home?” there was an opening that leads to the kitchen, glass doors showing the backyard. the stairs that lead to the second floor are made of sleek, dark oak. it’s a modern interior. they have a fireplace inside.

“no,” he breathes out, wetting his dry throat with a swallow before turning back to face you. “they’re out on business. i don’t think they’ll be home until the weekend.”

the both of you stop right in front of the staircase.

“i see.”

he quickly muffles a cough and leads you up to his room.

the inside of renjun’s room is neat— organized books on the shelf and sheets neatly pressed. There’s a set of candles beside his bed. you hold back a scoff. as expected from the top student.

your eyes flit over from the window above his bed to look at him, instead.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, you know,” you muse, dropping down your bag to join him on the floor. worksheets littered with numbers and constants, gravity and acceleration, all scatter on the floor. they blow with the wind knowing that they wouldn’t even be filled in, anyway.

“sorry,” renjun sputters out, loosening his striped necktie with two fingers. his vision is kept trained on the wall behind you. “i’m not— i’m not doing it on purpose.”

you adjust your legs on the floor, skirt riding. “is there a reason?”

“a reason?” he gulped.

“why you can’t look me in the eye.”

renjun thinks he sees the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

“i’ll— i’ll go open the window, it’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” scrambling to his feet, his knees sink into the navy sheets of his bed, reaching for the window in a nervous flurry to let the air in. “the news said that the temperature’s slowly gonna start rising but i didn’t think it would be—”

he bumps into you when he turned back.

there’s a click from behind him.

the wind stopped coming in.

“it’s not really that hot.”

the way your breath fanned against his lips makes his head spin in circles.

you have an arm out against the glass, your sleeve’s fabric grazing his tempered cheek when you went to shut the window down. renjun feels a ghost in the air where there’s a space in between you. “i— i guess you’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “i never expected that you’d ask to work together.”

there’s syrup at the end of your sentence. “you seemed pretty happy when i did, though.”

he isn’t sure if it’s just him or if you’re slowly getting closer. “well, that’s— that’s because i—”

“you don’t have to say it.”

your voice digs deep into his bones like chains of velvet. he can feel your chest pressing against him now, crushing the sense of rationality that he was bestowed with from birth and is replaced with a warm lush of rabid, violent waters gushing into bit of him stomach,

it comes off a whisper yet it sends him reeling.

“i know.”

renjun swallows. hard. but he’s afraid you’d hear the manifestations of a tempered restlessness that had managed to crawl its way up to the tips of his fingers— which found themselves resting onto the curve of your back. stray strands of his swair sweeps above his eyes, obscuring the closeness of your face, and he wants to ask how. how did you know that he likes you.

he never got to.

the question doesn’t even get to resurface after the first hit of your cherry flavored chapstick, his bottom lip caught in between yours, teeth grinding against the plush, pink skin. the second hit has his decorum slowly peeling away from his skin when his tongue traces over yours in a hot mess of delirium, when you settle between his legs, a coarse groan vibrating in his throat. the third has him forgetting his own name.

his eyes are hazy when you pull back with a rough smacking of the mouth. with a short-winded voice, you ask him.

“do you mind if i make a call?”

renjun looks at you in a fit of breathlessness.

an airy laugh leaves your lips that he can’t stop staring at. you press a kiss on his nose. “my parents need to know that i won’t be going home tonight.”

dazed, he answers. “y-yeah, sure.”

he blinks a few times before letting you go.

“take your time.”

you send him a smile before fishing your backpack from the floor and leaving the room.

just like that, a switch was flipped.

upon closing the door, you quickly twist the knob, locking it with the keys that you’d snatched from him earlier. it’s convenient that he has each one labelled— a belated thank you to your school’s ever organized golden boy who never fails to make you sick in the stomach.

at each wall you pass, you make sure to seal the windows shut and have all the doors closed. the contents of your bag make steady pangs against your back as you shuttled down the stairs. you lock the back door shut, close all the windows, turn on all the lights, and throw a match into their fireplace, waiting for the fire to come to full bloom. all that’s left is the kitchen.

there’s no time wasted in turning everything on— the microwave, oven, and the stove until you can't crank them any further. embers fly into the air. it’s getting hotter. you duck down to the compartment under the stove to reveal a white painted propane tank, taking out a cordless soldering iron to seal the safety relief valve close. you place a rag over the opening valve and twist it halfway through. a hissing sound whizzes through the air.

with that, you leave through the front door, locking it for good measure. his keys disappear into the bush nearest to their porch.

it’s only a matter of time until huang renjun ceases to be a pest anymore. if not for good, then at least lethally injured.

you head home to finish your physics worksheets that were due tomorrow.

for the first time in god knows how long, you wake up and head to school with a well rested air.

you take your things out of your backpack, humming a soft tune right before the bell rings for your first class. your other seatmate— donghyuck— notices your unusual cheery demeanor, and inquires about its oddities. you simply answer him with an allusion to finally being free. he laughs it off and turns his head to the chalkboard.

five minutes before eight. the doors creak open. you’re ready to stand and greet your teacher until you realize that it isn’t her.

it’s not.

it’s not.

it’s not.

something nauseating knocks into your lungs and stifles your throat, eyes wide and stinging. it squeezes your neck with poison prickling the surface.

huang renjun enters the classroom with his usual nods and smiles to everyone he passes.

“holy shit, dude. you look like hell.”

“i didn’t get any sleep last night,” he laughs, lightheartedly. “guess i’ll have to sleep through recess.”

your teeth grind against your lips, supple skin turning redder at each nip. your nails leave scratches on the desk as you rattle in your seat, thinking, thinking, panicking. each breath feels like choking on pulverized copper in sulfuric air. there’s a ringing in your ears and you hear nothing except your own voice screaming why is he here why is he here why is he here?

he doesn’t go to his desk. he’s standing right in front of you.

“you look well.”

it sears your fingerprints off your skin.

you don’t answer, don’t even look at him. he breaks into a small smile and leans forward, one hand pressed against your desk and the other reaching for a lock of your hair as he nears and nears and nears. “there’s something here,” he says.

there isn’t.

“you left my window unlocked, baby.”

his hot breath hits your cold cheek, tucking a strand behind with a smile. to everyone else, it would look sweet— heart fluttering. to you it was a death sentence. renjun breathes out a contained chuckle into your ear before letting his hand fall on your shoulder, a tight grip at the last second.

“better luck next time.”

© HANNIE-DUL-SET. 2021.

#NCT-WRITERS #cznnet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #huang renjun x reader #renjun x reader #huang renjun x you #renjun x you #nct x reader #nct x you #huang renjun scenarios #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #huang renjun smut #nct smut

[nightwishesworld]

Food Poisoning

What’s that? I should be working on the 12+ asks in my inbox instead of doing my own stuff??? Whoopsie

In all fairness I’m not super proud of this anyway, so I guess it balances itself out

“It must have been quite the night for Daniela to be sleeping in this late,” you say over your morning coffee.

“Was it?” Cassandra, ever the lady, asked while a mouthful of breakfast. “I didn’t realize she went out to hunt.”

Bela nodded as she sipped her tea. “She looked a little worse for wear after dinner, don’t you think, Mother?”

“I noticed that as well, yes. I hope she’s not falling ill.”

“Wait, can vampires even get sick?”

“Not if they’re careful enough. But in short, yes, my dear, it is very possible. If our food is less than healthy when ingested we will get sick. Nothing major, rather similar to food poisoning in fact.”

“Ok, well should we go check your stocks? Maybe she ate something rancid.”

Alcina shook her head. “I’m sure she’s fine, y/n. It’s probably just one of those days for her. Besides, if she were ill that means all of us would be as well, and I don’t know about you girls, but I feel perfectly fine this morning.”

Both Cassandra and Bela nodded along.

“Unless she ate that weird guy she abducted from the bar. Maybe he wasn’t just drunk? He could have been sick. Also, I hate how blasé I’ve become to you guys eating people. You’ve officially numbed me.”

Alcina rolled her eyes at your dramatics while the girls giggled. “What are the odds of that, though? Consuming the only subject in the entire basement that hasn’t been thoroughly tested.”

You share a look with Bela and Cassandra. “You remember who we’re talking about, right Alcina?”

She exhales slowly, blowing tiny ripples on the surface of her wine. “Goddammit, I suppose I should go check on her.”

You already stood from your seat. “No, no you just sat down; I’ll go. What are the odds, anyway? Daniela is smarter than that.”

It was a short walk to Daniela’s chambers once you made it upstairs. You know you’re going to find her ill in bed, you just know it. The thrill of the kill makes her reckless even in the best of times. You know for a fact she devoured that weird old man the very night she dragged him home. Now your only hope is she’s not cursed with anything more than a stomach ache.

The putrid smell of stomach acid reeked even outside Daniela’s closed door. On instinct you wanted to rush in there and help her, but who’s to say she isn’t asleep? The smell could have been from last night and she was just too exhausted to clean it up before passing out. Not that that made you feel any better. Poor Daniela sicker than a dog all by herself with no one to hold her hair up or rub her back.

You steadied yourself enough to knock a couple of times before opening the door a crack. Just enough to be able to peek through.

“Daniela?” No answer.

It doesn’t look like she’s in bed either. Then you heard the retching. You wasted no time rushing in to find her hunched over a wastebasket on the floor. You gathered her hair away from her face, kneeled down next to her, and tried desperately to ignore the smell. The last thing needed is both of you throwing up.

“Are you alright, darling?”

It was a stupid question, but the words left your mouth before you could censor yourself. That didn’t stop the redhead from glaring up at you. Her eyes were glossy and red, probably from lack of sleep.

You waited a few minutes while her breathing steadied before letting go of her. “Will you be ok while I go get your mother?”

She gave a single nod.

You rush out of the room and head for the stairs. You consider rushing down and risk tripping over yourself but ultimately decide to tell for her.

“ALCINA!”

She was heading up the stairs almost immediately after you called like she was waiting for you to do so. “She’s retching on the floor.” Alcina sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I was really hoping you were wrong.” “Me too. What should we do?” Alcina opened the door to her daughter’s bedroom and immediately rushed to her side. “My poor darling, what happened?” All Daniela could bring herself to do was shake her head. Alcina kissed her temple. “I think that old drunk expired and no one told him.” That got a smile on Daniela’s lips. Alcina proceeded to wipe the dribbles of bile off her daughter’s lips with her dress. You entered the room but kept your distance from the pair. Both because you wanted to give them space and because the smell was making you nauseous. If it's making you feel sick then you can't imagine how crummy Daniela is feeling. "Why don't you bring her to our room and I'll clean this mess up."

"Don't worry about that, y/n. I'll deal with it later. Right now I need you to go tell Bela and Cassandra to ready themselves for a trip down to the village. I need the old witch to brew a few tonics for Daniela." You nodded quickly and start hurrying out of the room. "Make sure Bela brings her glass vials!"

The girls departed for the village with haste. They said it's been decades since any of them fell ill and any herbs or tonics they had laying around the castle would have lost their effect years ago. You panicked a bit when Cassandra asked what she should be asking the witch for cause you had absolutely no idea. Before you gave yourself a panic attack trig to figure it out, Bela reassured you she knew what to do. Some items could only be obtained from the witch's hut, which is where Cassandra was being sent, while others could be purchased in the village shops.

As soon as you saw them off you busied yourself with cleaning Daniela's room. It took a while, way longer than it should have, but it got done and that's all that matters. The smell was putrid enough standing in the doorway so being right in the middle of it made you really nauseous. Scrubbing the smell out of the wooden floorboards took up most of your morning, but making Daniela happy and comfortable was well worth the effort.

You rewarded yourself with a hot shower for your valiancy though. After you freshened up you found everyone curled up together in the library. Daniela was laying on her back, with her head resting on her mother's lap as she read a book. Bela was curled up in a ball next to Alcina while Cassandra laid stretched out on the floor with her chin resting on Alcina's knee. It was probably the cutest thing you've ever seen. Not wanting to ruin such a wholesome family interaction you quietly exited the library before any of them noticed you were there.

The next few days passed like this. Alcina was driving herself to exhaustion making sure Daniela was as comfortable as possible and you did the same to her in turn. The easiest way to get the matriarch to relax was by giving her a back massage. You straddled her bare back and slowly kneaded away at her aching muscles. Her occasional sounds of pleasure encourage your ministrations.

"How can one woman have so many knots?"

"I don't know; stress, work, lack of sleep, posture?"

You laugh. "Wasn't actually looking for an answer, Al. And don't try to tell me you haven't been sleeping. I haven't been sleeping because your snoring keeps waking me up."

Alcina turned to give you a look of disgust. "I do not snore."

"You do when you're stressed. Weirdest thing, by the way."

She opened her mouth to respond but only let out a pained hiss as you moved down to her shoulder blades.

"Too much?"

"No, just sore. You can keep going."

"Yeah, I can see that. I'm just trying to get your muscles to relax, nothing crazy."

Alcina sighs and relaxes back into the pillows.

"I'm gonna start going a little harder, ok? It's getting better, but try to not hold your breath if you can help it."

Alcina lets out a long exhale in submission. She hadn't even realized she was holding it in. The way you were moving your hands down her body made her cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Sorry, Love."

"Don't worry about it, just keep going."

A comfortable silence passes between the two of you. Your mind wanders back to Daniela. It was surreal to see her moping around the castle.

"Do you think Daniela would like a backrub? I heard her say her body aches earlier."

"That's sweet though, my love, but let's just leave her be for now. I think she finally succumbed to the tonics."

"Ah, I understand. Is she feeling any better?"

Alcina shakes her head into the pillow. "Not yet, but the tonics are helping keep her stomach calm."

You feel the weight of an anvil release from your chest. "Thank the gods, I really don't want to clean up any more sick."

"No one told you to in the first place."

"I know. I just thought she would want to be comfy in her own room."

"I appreciate everything you're doing for her, y/n. Daniela does too, she's just not great at vocalizing it."

"She doesn't have to. I'll gladly take care of my family."

One night you come home from the village really late at night and come home to find Daniela snuggling with Alcina in bed. It’s the sweetest sight.

Alcina’s got an arm wrapped around Daniela’s middle, holding her close but not suffocatingly so. Daniela’s head is tucked under her mother’s chin, face buried in her neck.

You take in the sight before moving to give Alcina a kiss on the cheek (you would Daniela too but don’t want to wake her. She needs all the sleep she can get.) and move to leave for a guest bedroom just down the hall.

Alcina stirs and you apologize for waking her.

“I was only dozing,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. Mihaela was accepting drinks left and right, I had to make sure she got home safe.”

“How noble of you.” Alcina lets out a lion’s yawn.

“Go back to bed, Love. I’ll check on you both in the morning.”

“Daniela was waiting for you to come back, but fell asleep.” Alcina turned her attention back to her youngest daughter and kissed her sweaty temple.

“She feeling any better?”

“Her fever did go down a bit, so we’re on the road to recovery. A slow and winding road, but going in the right direction nonetheless.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god. She was starting to really scare me. Do you think we should call that old bat up here to take a look at her? What if she doesn’t get better soon, then what?”

“But she is, darling. I just told you her fever is down. She still has a little bit of a fever, but progress is progress. In a few day's time, she will be much better.”

“You’re probably right,” you lean over Alcina and brush loose strands of hair out of Daniela’s face. “I just wish I could do more. I’d rather it be me instead of poor Daniela.”

“I’d rather it be neither of you,” Alcina mumbled.

“It’s just so scary to see her like this; so vulnerable and weak...”

“I’m not weak.” A groggy mumbling came from Alcina’s chest.

“Hey, Daniela, how are you feeling? Any better?”

The redhead nodded into her mother’s neck. “A little.”

“Good,” you smile. “You go back to sleep now, ok? I’ll come to check on you in the morning.”

“Wher’re you goin?”

“I’m gonna go sleep in a guest room so you can be with your mother.”

The hand wrapped around Alcina’s waist comes to grab your wrist. She said something but you couldn’t make it out. All you heard was muffled groaning.

“Don’t worry, Dani. This way you can have the whole side of the bed to yourself. I’ll come to check on you in the morning.”

She didn’t let go.

“Don’t you wanna be alone with your mother? I really don’t mind, Daniela, honestly.”

Daniela buried herself deeper under the covers. “You don’t understand. I-I want...both.”

“Both what?”

Daniela didn’t say anything. She only cuddled into Alcina’s chest.

Oh....OH!

You clamped a hand down on Alcina’s arm, unknowingly digging your nails into her skin.

“Are...are you sure, Dani?”

The redhead nodded into her mother, who then answered for her.

Your stomach fluttered with the wings of a thousand butterflies. Daniela never referred to you as a parental figure before, let alone call you her mother. “Alright then. If you’re sure that’s what you want.” You move to your side of the bed and crawled in, careful not to press against her too much.

Daniela lets put an irritated groan and reaches behind her to grab your arm and wrap it around herself. Yanking you against her along the way. She must be really sick. Since when did Daniela Dimitrescu demand cuddles? Especially from you. The only thing she ever demanded of you was to help her sharpen weapons or make up with Alcina after an argument.

She wriggled away from Alcina just enough to feel you behind her. She was still sandwiched pretty tight between the two of you, but if this is what she wants you aren’t complaining. She brought your hand up towards her chest so as to keep it away from her cramping stomach.

Her head was tucked in under your chin because you didn't want to breathe all over the back of her neck. Daniela was beyond glad you were still holding onto her, even though she would never say it out loud.

You made sure to tell her you would let go of her if cuddling got too hot, or cold, or stifling for her. The redhead groaned a response and nodded into Alcina’s chest.

Rather than having your arms wrapped around her, (that implied a certain amount of pressure) your arm was laying over her side and bent to her form without any sort of pressure so Daniela wouldn't feel trapped or constricted. Really more draped over her than wrapped around her.

But she was holding onto your forearm tight to keep you there even if she shifted somewhat frequently because she wanted you to stay.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like this, Daniela. I hope you start to feel better.” You threw caution to the wind and kissed the top of her head. To your surprise, Daniela cuddled further into you. It absolutely melted you.

You pepper her head with kisses. “My poor darling. I wish I could make it all go away.”

Alcina smiles warmly at the display as she repositions herself comfortably against the pillows. She leans forward to kiss the top of Daniela's head. "Promise me you'll wake us if you need anything?"

Daniela nods into her chest.

"Or if you can't fall asleep," you add.

Alcina leaned forward to kiss you goodnight, accidentally smothering her daughter in her chest. "Goodnight, my loves. Sleep well."

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8

[noritoshiikamo]

reality vs fantasy 

bonus part 3.5 of the noritoshi kamo story; im just spoiling u brats enjoy [passes holy water] thread lightly, sexual content ahead

tagging: @unabashednightmarepizza @sassyeahhhh @dok-ja @sukirichi [bold means i cant tag u idky :( lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] directory: read the first part | second part | third part | bonus

fantasy

“does that feel good?”

he asked as his lips traced her sharp jaws, spreading kisses as his hands steadied her hips. she took a sharp breath, nodding in pleasure as moans escaped her parted lips as she lowered herself down back on his hard dick. through his opened eyes, he watched pleasurably as her tight cunt swallowed his dick inch by inch so easily, like she was moulded to fit him and only him. her long hair covered half of her face, as she flipped it to the side, sweats dripping down her chest glistening her swollen breasts. 

she looked so ethereal riding him. 

her pace was slow, and his hands were roaming all over her body. 

he whispered encouragements, how beautiful she looked sucking in his fingers hungrily, her perky titties and the way she hugged around his length made him feels so good made her roll her eyes back to her skull. feeding her kink so well. pulling her against him, her back resting on his chest, she let him take over the pace, loud moans fillers the room as the sound of her skin slapping against his with wet squelching sound echoed their bedroom. 

“you’re so needy, my wife.”

she was beyond needy, she was desperate for release only he could give, “fuck me, please, just fuck my brain out.” grabbing her chin, he smiled pleasingly as he kissed her lips so passionately. his rough hand palmed her breast, nipple swollen and hard it made her legs bucked.

“you want me to fuck you?” he teased.

she nodded vigorously, trying to move her hips to meet his pace. his other hand moved lowered below her slightly bulging abdomen, finding her swollen clit immediately. 

“please just fuck every inch of me,” she cried out, tongue lolling out, her eyes stared deep into his eyes, “i’ll be very good, i promise.” with every bat of her eyes, he couldn’t decide whether she looks adorably innocent or just a devil in disguise. 

but when he had her pressed on all four, begging for all holes to be filled, he couldn’t deny his wife’s wishes.

reality

she panted. sweaty and sticky, she looked down on the pillow tucked between her thighs. her face flushed red as guilt washed over her. the effect of the orgasm had left her legs shaking and she cursed.

noritoshi had not returned to their house for almost three days. 

she missed him dearly and she was losing her mind slowly. 3 days alone to heal from the mess from the attack at the stadium and to deal with the fact that she’s growing their child inside her reduced her to nothing but a mess. she fell on her side, pushing her sweaty hair up as she kicked the pillow soaked with her fluid to the floor. she fixed herself, not that it helped with anything; she lowered his shirt down her chest back. she has been wearing it for 3 days straight. 

enveloped by everything that reminds her of him but not able to have him physically hurt her chest. he hadn’t call, text, or even send her a letter. she was alone. 

whenever she missed him, she hid in their walk-in closet, nose buried in whatever that belong to him that her eyes caught first. when she has enough energy, she would brew the tea just as he likes it, sat at the balcony, and just not even drink it. she isn’t even a tea person; she prefers coffee but holding a cup of warm tea during the cold night makes it feel like he’s around.

she’s an addict but the drug is gone.

she felt tears prickling the corner of her eyes and before she knew it, she was sobbing on his side of the bed. she remained there, beating herself for being stubborn, blaming herself, blaming him even every single god that existed in the world for fucking her life up. she missed him; his smile, his voice, his touch, his kiss, she missed everything about him. 

shoko explained that she was 7 weeks pregnant, and her baby is as big as a blueberry. 

“i think the period you are describing last month might have been implantation bleeding, something normal that might be mistaken for period. you need to listen to me. your body is adjusting, you should stay home and rest. don’t stress yourself out.”

she felt wave of nausea bubbling in her belly triggering her gag reflex. kicking herself off the bed, she made it to their bathroom, throwing her head into the toilet and she quickly emptied her stomach out. they should rename morning sickness because the sickness haunted every single hour of her day. she spent more time in the bathroom, head in the toilet than the other part of her house. she stared through her teary eyes at the content of the bowl, clear disgust on her face when she realised it was nothing but the liquid she’d been having. she has been struggling with food, only able to tolerate porridge and juices and she was growing tired. 

weak, her mind mocked. 

she unlocked her phone and dialled gojo’s number. she waited for him to pick up, breaking into sob as she felt so exhausted, she couldn’t even move. 

“gojo, i’m in the toilet, i just can’t get up anymore i feel horrible i want to eat but i can’t i want to get out of here please-”

“y/n?”

she startled.

-

there was a lot of cum.

noritoshi was glad that he chose to release his pent-up stress in the bathroom, feeling the water showered down all over his body. all cooped up in their room back at the kamo estate for almost three days, he didn’t expect to feel a sudden wave of horniness crashing over him when he accidentally turned over to her side. 

it’s not like he wasn’t already thinking of her. she was literally all he could think about. 

her scent overwhelmed him even when he tried to push the thought of her away; but she’s still his beautiful stubborn wife and his heart ached when he thought of her. he always has a good control of himself, he believed that sexual urges should just be solved by a traditional fucking but for tonight, it was just him and his left fist. 

the way she smiles, the way her body moves, the way she ties his bangs or the way she always makes sure he wakes up with a cup of tea waiting by the bed; she missed every single thing she does. the way she teases him and the way she begs for more and more always reduced him down into a simpleton. 

he wished nothing but to run back into her arms. 

he quickly washed up, removing traces of him from the floor and exited the shower immediately. his phone suddenly blowed up. without thinking, he pressed the green button and what greeted him surprised him. 

“-the toilet, i just can’t get up anymore i feel horrible i want to eat but i can’t i want to get out of here please-”

his breath hitched and he stood there. “y/n?” he called, and he could feel the slight tension in the air. she had realised her mistake. 

“m’sorry, i-i want to call satoru. i didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“are you okay?”

he sat on the edge of the bed; phone pressed hard against his ear. talk to me, their hearts screamed. she let out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the sniffles, “i-i’m okay. i’m sorry for disturbing you. i thought you were gojo.”

gojo had been telling him how he has been taking care of her. told him that she was more than weak, could barely hold her food in without gagging. 

“she’s miserable. she’s 7 weeks pregnant. we suspected that the reason her body didn’t fully succumbed to the poison that cursed spirit had infected her with was because of the the baby. the higher up thinks that it’s carrying the same inherited technique as you. the fact that it was able to protect its host; your wife is impressive.”

he rubbed his forehead, nervousness overwhelmed him, and he felt like a child about to ask his crush out.

“you’re not disturbing me. you don’t need to call gojo, i can come over,” holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he immediately slipped on his pants, “do you need anything? are you hurt?”

“i’m just stuck on the bathroom floor. i can’t get my ass back up and out of this bathroom.”

“you called gojo for this?”

her face reddened, “i get overwhelmed easily. i’m sorry,” she rambled, “you know what? forget i called. bye,” she ended the call immediately. she slummed her head back against the wall, groaning at the discomfort of her abdomen pressing on her bladder whenever she sat wrongly. she closed her eyes, covering it with her arm before soft snore escaped her lips. she’d pass out on the floor of her bathroom. it felt like hours until she heard soft pitter patter of feet on the cold cement, arms around her body lifting it up off the floor. she was too tired to open her eyes, soft noise coming out of her lips as the arms laid her on the soft bed. she sighed in relief; the cold bathroom floor was giving her back ache. 

she opened her eyes and she let a nervous laugh. her shaky hand reached out to touch his cheek, it felt soft to touch, too realistic. no, he’s gone, he won’t come home, you’re not real, she reminded herself. “my hallucination is getting realistic nowadays” she stifled a yawn. 

he smiled, his finger brushing her stray hair back, revealing her watery eyes, “you think of me often?” 

“don’t you?”

she gasped when his warm hand cupped her cheek, another touched her neck as he straddled her. boldly, she tugged on his leather jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders, confused when the jacket fell on the floor with a loud thud. this sounds too real. the feeling of his breath tickling her cold skin, his lips tracing kisses after another, she was drowsy. 

“i’ll take care of you,” he whispered, “i promise, i’m here.”

“nori,” she called out eagerly.

“yes, my wife?”

the hair on her body stood, shivers caused her back and toes to curl in pleasure. she couldn’t differentiate if it’s just fantasy or reality; not with his hands roaming all over her bare skin. 

#okay imma stop this for now maybe gonna work on other character pls im just spamming nori content rn dnnsjsjkhfjfjcdks #noritoshi kamo #kamo noritoshi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk drabbles #noritoshi smut #noritoshi drabbles #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #noritoshi x reader #writing: fics

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ]  Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here. 

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

 Can we talk for a sec?

 He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you. 

 “Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

 Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?” 

 Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

 You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

 “Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

 The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

 It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

 “Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been. 

 Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

 Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

 “I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do. 

 “It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

 “No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

 Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

 “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

 Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you. 

 “I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble. 

 “You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

 You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken. 

 “Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

 “Good.”

 You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

 “Thanks.”

 “See you in a few days.”

 “Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

 You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress. 

 He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

 So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

 Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. 

 Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable. 

 *

 Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them. 

 Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

 What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

 Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former. 

 Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

 The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

 Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

 Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

 He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

 “You’re bothering me.”

 “Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away. 

 It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

 “Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

 Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

 “Shut. The fuck up.”

 The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

 “We’ll see.”

 This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

 Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

 So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere. 

 Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong. 

 But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship. 

 Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t. 

 *

 Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

 It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

 “I missed you, Zacharias.”

 He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

 He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it. 

 “How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

 “They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew. 

 “Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

 “Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

 “No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

 “There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

 “Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke  that you’re still anxious around him?

 The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

 “Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

 Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

 “Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

 He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike. 

 His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight. 

 The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch. 

 When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice. 

 Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?” 

 Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

 “Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

 The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

 Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground. 

 But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would  be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

 *

 The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there. 

 He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.” 

 He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

 It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone. 

 The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

 And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

 Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture. 

 He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

 Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

 Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors. 

 It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

 Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

 He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides. 

 “Hey, stranger," you greet.

 Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

 “So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around. 

 You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

 Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

 “Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

 He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding. 

 “One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

 You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away. 

 “Rude,” you utter.

 He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

 “You know I’m smart.”

 Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

 He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't. 

 "I still don't get it."

 So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his. 

 "Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page. 

 Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen. 

 "Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head. 

 You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not. 

 But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles. 

 It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. 

 "God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us." 

 You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt. 

 He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin. 

 Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to. 

 “You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit. 

 You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours. 

 Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

 "Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers. 

 He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

 After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on. 

 *

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?" 

 You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question. 

 "Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

 Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured. 

 If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.  

 "Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?" 

 You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

 "Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you. 

 It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else. 

 You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him. 

 It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more. 

 You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc. 

 Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked. 

 You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?" 

 He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders. 

 The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

 When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see. 

 It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you. 

 Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him. 

 You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off. 

 You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest. 

 Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be. 

 You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

 Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip. 

 "Zeke," you breathe, body trembling. 

 "What is it, baby?" He coos. 

 "I—"

 He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand. 

 Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

 You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there. 

 Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good. 

 You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

 "Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time. 

 "It's getting late."

 Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration. 

 But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

 The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though. 

 Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them. 

 Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place. 

 After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car. 

 “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

 “Okay, yeah.” 

 He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

 Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car. 

 Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year. 

 The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort. 

 The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds. 

 You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much. 

 You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him. 

 It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend. 

 Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way. 

 He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you. 

 You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did. 

 "Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear. 

 He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear." 

 "Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say." 

 You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights. 

 It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups. 

 "Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no. 

 The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

 "'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine. 

 You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with. 

 "You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

 "I promise I'll behave."

 That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged. 

 So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea. 

 "Miche," you protest, drawing his name out. 

 "Just think about it."

 He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party. 

 As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen. 

 Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes. 

 "Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

 You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

 "We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

 "And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

 Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is. 

 There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before. 

 "Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward. 

 You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean it's weird and dramat—"

 "No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

 You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up. 

 "We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

 "Are you serious?" 

 You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm. 

 "As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life." 

 You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have. 

 He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on. 

 "His loss."

 "Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

 Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

 "Shut up."

 "I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

 "Excuse the fuck outta me?" 

 "In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

 This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it. 

 "We should change the subject."

 Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be. 

 "Why? Gettin' all worked up."

 "You are literally the worst."

 You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

 "Uh huh."

 He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him. 

 You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend. 

 Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else. 

 Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it. 

 It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong. 

 Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny. 

 "Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff. 

 "Why not?" 

 "'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

 He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

 "Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

 "I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

 Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

 "I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

 "So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

 You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now. 

 You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?" 

 Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

 "It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

 "Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

 "Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything." 

 He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

 But, he would never. 

 You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

 Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

 "I haven't seen your new apartment yet." 

 You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through? 

 "You sure?" He questions. 

 "Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

 "Are you sure?" 

 He must feel terrible. You can relate.

 "If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort. 

 "No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

 "Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

 You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help. 

 "Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader

[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Funny, Crack and Humour Fics (Part 1)

I’ve been reading your johnlock fan fic recs for quite sometimes and it had been amazing!!

Can you suggest me some fics which are funny and smutty?or just fun to read?

(submitted by @eclecticcolordreamhairdo)

——

jonlokfe asked: Hi Steph, do you have a fan fiction Johnlock humor? O partys with scotland yard?

——–

Hi Lovelies!

Ahh, I’ve gotten a lot of requests lately for funny fics, and I’ve decided to finally just update it. I did a list a LONG time ago, but just never updated it since then. So I guess that’s what I’m doing this time around!

Because I have SO MANY FICS that all the links disappeared, I’m going to release this list in 2 Parts: First half is today, and next weekend I’ll post up the other half of the list <3

So enjoy this week’s list: the shorter fics :)

FUNNY, CRACK, and HUMOUR FICS (Part 1)

See also: Funny and Fluffy Stories

This Kiss by suitesamba (T, 731 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drunkenness, Angst, Stag Night) – Stag Night - back at 221B - in a world where Mrs. Hudson doesn’t interrupt the guessing game with the client. Part 1 of The “This” Series

Reunited by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 753 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Reunion) – Everything is falling right back into place, but it’s just a little too quick for John. One-shot, drabble, non-slash.

Cigarettes and Shampoo by laura0506 (T, 783 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John goes to the shops to meet someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Concussions And Good Old Fashioned Awkwardness by Belldere (K+, 894 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Hospitals, Mild John Whump, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationship, Concussions, Not-Gay John, Possessive Sherlock) – When John lands himself in hospital… again, all he wants is to just get out of there as soon as possible, too bad his doctor has other ideas about where John may be getting his injuries. Good thing concussions make everything strangely funnier.

A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (G, 934 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance) – As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened.

Tidying Up by mattsloved1 (K+, 951 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John comes home to a thoroughly cleaned flat. Or so it seems.

Realisation by Susie.Donym (K+, 957 w., 1 Ch. || Sally POV, Pre-Slash / Friendship, Humour) – It takes her a while but Sally finally makes a huge realisation.

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

My Unfortunately Average Sized Cranium by Haelia (K+, 996 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Headache, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Drug Use, Doctor John) – In which Sherlock has a migraine. ALMOST Johnlock. Not quite.

Secrets by 796116311389 (G, 1,084 w., 1 Ch. || Drunk Sherlock, Drunk Confessions, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pining Sherlock) – “He is the best person in the world and sometimes I get sad because I’m not. Not his best person.”

Mizzle by MrsNoggin (K, 1,233 w., 1 Ch || Friendship, Fluff, Platonic Johnlock, Humour, Slice of Life) – John can’t decide if it’s raining or not. Sherlock doesn’t understand.

Hallucinations can’t open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

God Save The Queen by Alice Day (K+, 1,398 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Mystery, Friendship) – Sherlock has a new case. John is petrified. The Queen is amused.

Out on da pull by I-O-U-a-picture (T, 1,375 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John going ‘out on da pull’ and getting so close to getting digits so many times but Sherlock just conveniently keeps turning up prattling on about eyeballs in the microwave…

Three Ways Sherlock Conformed to His Stereotype by Jennistar1 (K+, 1,445 w.,  1 Ch. || Humour, Cranky Sherlock) – “It’s a hat.” / Urge to roll eyes, quashed. “Yes. I can see that.” / “It’s called a deerstalker.”

You Should Have Let Me Sleep! by theraggedypond (T, 1,542 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Sleepy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Domestics) – After a three day case with no sleep and hardly any food, Sherlock is recovering from it by playing comatose. John finds out what happens when you wake up London’s favorite consulting detective.

Happy Birthday John by Starlight05 (K, 1,580 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, John’s Birthday, Shopping, 3rd Person POV John) – When an important date comes up, Sherlock finds himself doing something he never has before - shopping! But will he succeed and manage to get his best friend a present?

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, 1,662 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Est. Rel. Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he’s ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it…

You Can Imagine The Christmas Dinners by johnsarmylady (T, 1,780 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Introspection, Fluff, Post-ASIP) – Set the morning after a Study in Pink, John sits and contemplates Mycroft’s words.

In Which John is a BAMFy MoFo, OMG! by Kantayra (T, 1,835 w., 1 Ch. || Humour) – John’s BAMFness and Sherlock’s damsel-in-distress act are caught forever on camera. So Scotland Yard can mock. A lot.

The Video Footage by bitchinblackframedglasses (K, 1,894 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Fluff, ASiB Missing Scene) – What exactly DID Lestrade film Sherlock doing in A Scandal in Belgravia? Sherlock wants to know, and John tells him.

The Adventure of the Mysterious Appearance of Tissues by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 1,910 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Sick John, Caring Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort) – In which there is a case, John has caught a cold and is not interested in investigating, Mrs Hudson is away and Sherlock does the shopping.

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1,921 w., 1 Ch. || THoB, Friendship, Humor, Bed Sharing, Missing Scenes, Cranky John, Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Gen, but can be preslash.

Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed  (K+, 1,937 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Cards by Caighlee (K+, 1,954 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Games) – Sherlock has been without a case for a few days and Molly’s suggested experiment - something with a pig head (ew) - is losing it’s appeal. Can John come up with something that’ll distract Sherlock for a bit longer? And how did John pull off that card trick? Sherlock’ll never know because a magician never tells a secret. Except maybe when faced with a smiling Consulting Detective.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

They’re Taking My Wisdom by whitchry9 (K+, 1,939 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Drugging, Dentists, Friendship, Anxious Sherlock, Humour) – Sherlock goes to the dentist. Of course, being Sherlock, things have to be complicated. Oh and drugs. They’re always fun.

Foresight by niffler09 (K, 2,015 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Holmes Brother Bickering) – It’s raining and neither John nor Sherlock have an umbrella so they huddle under Sherlock’s coat. And then Mycroft walks past and makes smartass remarks.

Caught in the Act – by Mycroft by ShirleyCarlton (E, 2,040 w., 1 Ch. || Unintended Voyeurism, Mycroft’s POV, Blow Job, Humour) – Mycroft had only planted the camera for Sherlock’s own good, simply to keep an eye on his little brother and make sure he was alright. He hadn’t quite meant to see his brother this content, however… Part 4 of Caught In The Act

Never Have I Ever by Hannelore-Grace (T, 2,073 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drinking Games) – In which the Yarders, Sherlock, and John play the time-honored drinking game.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John’s favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

At Least Make It Interesting by amythedork (K, 2,140 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Angst) – “You’ve reached Sherlock Holmes. For the love of God, if you’re going to leave a message, at least make it an interesting one. If this is Mycroft, then piss off.” / A series of voicemails John left Sherlock throughout their time together.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Spilt Milk by Erin Giles (K+, 2,222 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – John comes back from a trip to the supermarket only to take a trip up the stairs. Both shopping and blood are spilled leaving Sherlock to play the role of Doctor.

A Study in Lace by KarlyAnne (E, 2,320 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Crafty Sherlock, Tiny Lace Panties / Lingerie, Domestics, Experiments, Oral, Masturbation) – “Why do you suppose he was doing that?” “Why do I suppose who was doing what?” “The room. The lace. The secrecy. He was playing with fire in everything he did, and didn’t care one bit. But he had a secret chamber, carefully concealed, solely for the purpose of making lace lingerie. Obviously for personal use. Why?“ Part 1 of The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes

Reunions, Rowdiness and Phone Calls by Jennistar1 (T, 2,348 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk John, Low-Key Pining Sherlock) – John goes on a school reunion and gets drunk. Sherlock solves some crimes and gets some interesting phone calls.

Work On Your Balance by speculate (K+, 2,448 w., 1 Ch. || Embarrassed Sherlock, “For A Case”, Skating, Fluff, Friendship, Humour) – In which John is actually pretty good at ice skating, Sherlock’s not and insists it’s all for a case , and Lestrade is pretty amused by it all.

Wintery Hell by Belldere (K+, 2,457 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship & Humour, Christmas) – With Sherlock being roped into spending Christmas with his family, John had his own Christmas all planned out with his other friends and family… That is until he’s extended a forceful invitation from Mycroft and an assumption from Sherlock who, once again, failed to notice John wasn’t in the room when he 'asked’.

Manipulation by sixbynine (K+, 2,566 w., 1 Ch. || Experimenting John, Reverse Psychology) – John Watson is not as unobservant as Sherlock thinks, nor is he above using what he knows. Even if it is just to make sure Sherlock eats and sleeps.

Not Rocket Science by Nitrospira (T, 2,571 w., 1 Ch. || Drama, Humour) – Sherlock and John Watson are handcuffed to a bed while investigating a double homicide on the International Space Station. But Sherlock isn’t sure which is more tedious: a killer on the loose or John’s endless complaints.

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John’s bedroom is now a research library. It’s not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They’re friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it’s not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It’ll be fine.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It’s because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

John’s Drawers by JezebelGoldstone (T, 2,646 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, First Kiss, Romance, Humour) – Sherlock snoops through John’s drawers and finds something… unexpected.

BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company’ by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It’s a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

Your love it feels so good by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 2,843 w., 1 Ch. || Gay Club / Gay Bar, Lingerie, Stripping, Anal, Crossdressing, Strip Tease, First Time) – Sherlock is last at a quiz night and is forced by Anderson to perform in a gay stripclub. John must be with him, because he will have to record the performance. Sherlock takes the task very seriously. Part 20 of The English job

Tipsy by katkin (T, 2,781 w., 2 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk Sherlock) – "I love everyone in this room,” he announced proudly.“I know you do, buddy,” John replied “Which is why you’re going to clean this carpet in the morning. Because you’re a good friend.” “I am a good friend!” Sherlock agreed.

All in a Day by chappysmom (K+, 2,920 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Sherlock POV,  Humour, Light Angst, BAMF John) – Oddly enough, it seemed like this time, Sherlock had been kidnapped for no other reason than to pressure John. In other words, this had nothing to do with him. Really, this on top of the blow to the head was enough to make him dizzy.

33 by Indigo Blue.x (K+, 2,936 w., 1 Ch. || Humour) – “I haven’t made a zombie,” Sherlock says scathingly, which would be more convincing if there were not a zombie in the flat.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 3,089 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss/Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, PWP, Friends to Lovers, Come as Lube, Come Marking) – …ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

How to Court Your Blogger by PipMer (K+, 3,124 w., 1 Ch.  || Romance, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock Holmes sets out to court his flatmate. Things might progress more rapidly if he would inform said flatmate of his intentions.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Confessions, Physics, Texting, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Holidays) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Twas The Night by xox-hattii-xox (K+, 3,356 w., 1 Ch. || Humour & Friendship, Christmas, Domestics, Fluff) – Twas the night before Christmas…and Sherlock has had just about enough of the whole thing! 'Really, John, a Santa Hat’ Christmas in 221b, and Sherlock just wants it over with.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics by entanglednow (T, 3,614 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Sharing Body Heat) – In which there’s no heating and there’s a dead owl in Sherlock’s bed. Part 1 of Thermodynamics

Doesn’t Follow Me Everywhere by Janec Shannon (T, 3,784 w., 1 Ch. || Humour and Friendship) – “He doesn’t follow me everywhere, you know.” Silly John, of course he does what with your penchant for getting kidnapped.

Paranoia by Ewebie (M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E,  3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, 3,897 w.,1 Ch. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Anal/Oral, Seduction, John in Charge, Pining Sherlock, John’s Penis, Bottomlock) – Sherlock is putting together an elaborate plan of seducing John. John grows tired of waiting and takes matters into his own hands.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

Tree Topper by May_Shepard (E, 4,017 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Tree, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John are celebrating Christmas the best way they know how–alone together, with booze. They’ve almost finished decorating their tree, but John is determined to find the best way to top it.

The Oolong Disaster by unicornpoe (T, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Beard, Fluff, Humour, Frustrated Sherlock, John Takes Care of Sherlock, Case Fic-ish, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Possessive Sherlock) – John has a beard. Sherlock has a panic attack.

Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Piercing by Lorelei_Lee (E, 4,130 w., 1 Ch. || Travelling, Sherlock is Loud, Secrets, Genital Piercing, First Time, Licking, Coming Nearly Untouched) – John discovers by chance that Sherlock has a piercing. To his surprise John can’t stop thinking about it…

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It’s John and Sherlock’s first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J’s Tumblr Ficlet Collection

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, 4,553 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Friendship, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Light Humour/Teasing, Alternating POV, Cranky Sherlock) – If he hadn’t been so focused on holding the bastard still, John would have laughed aloud. This maniac really thought John was the pet in this dynamic?

Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb (E, 4,578 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Cuddles, Kissing, First Kiss, Requited Love, Pining Sherlock) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he’s pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.

Carry On by Mazarin221b (M, 4,647 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, H/C, Afghanistan, Frottage, Hand Jobs, First Time, Drunk John, Hospitals, Humour, Soft Sex) – Five times John didn’t want to be carried, and one time he did.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing… rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same…

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #funny fics #crack fics #my fic recs #submission #send me things #long post