#i know they probably just mean it as in perching but it's incorrect to me

[genshin-impact-updates]

"In this era of fair winds and gentle rains, one needs not marshal the winds to deliver the rainclouds." — "Passerine Herald" Xianyun

Hello, Travelers! The character we are introducing today is Xianyun! She is one of the Mighty and Illuminated Adepti of Jueyun, known as "Cloud Retainer." Expert in all kinds of mechanical contraptions, her heart now turns towards the affairs of the mortal world, through which she walks under the name "Xianyun."

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #genshin impact news #official #xianyun #her title bothers me because. cranes aren't passerine lol #passerines are like songbirds and crows and that sort of thing #i know they probably just mean it as in perching but it's incorrect to me

[celtic-crossbow]

For You, I'd Bleed Myself Dry

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early-ish Alexandria

Warnings: Suggestive (extremely mild); hangover

Summary: You're hung over and don't really remember how you got to Rosita's house the night before. Or what you had said on the way there.

A/N: Just a fun little drabble born of this incorrect quote. Suggested by @marvelcasey05

You didn’t expect to find Daryl still home when you wandered in the next morning. He was always an early riser, and though everyone else still slept, he would usually be long gone and outside the gates. So, when you tip-toed through the door and into the kitchen, your heels in your hand, he nearly scared the life out of you. You flipped the lightswitch and:

“Mornin’.”

“Jesus Christ, Daryl!”

The archer chuckled behind his coffee mug before tilting it the least bit more to take a sip. “Rollin’ in awful late.”

You shrugged “Or early, depending on how you look at it. Any left?” You nodded toward the cup. He gave a quiet mhm and got up to make you a mug. Your head was throbbing. You knew your makeup was a mess and your hair a disaster. You had slept in your dress at Rosita’s, so it was wrinkled and you were almost certain that it was only partially zipped in the back.The party hadn’t been that fun but the liquor had been flowing. That was why you went. Things in Alexandria had been stressful. Your group had been there a while. Long enough for so many problems to come along and be handled. The past week had been particularly eventful. Still, it had been handled and there had been some time to cut loose. 

So, you did.

You sat your heels on the counter and muttered a thank you when he slid the mug across the surface, narrowing your eyes across the rim as you readied for a drink. “Do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Guess you’ll need to take a drink an’ find out, won’tcha?” He was perching himself back on the island stool when you realized that Daryl Dixon was barefoot, wearing flannel pajama pants, and a faded Led Zepplin t-shirt. 

“You’re wearing people clothes.” You blinked, still holding the mug close to your mouth. 

Daryl smirked from behind his own cup. “M’a person, contrary to popular belief.” He took another sip, prompting you to take one of your own. He did know how you liked your coffee. Interesting. 

An ache in your left foot reminded you that you wanted nothing more than to go to your room and fall into a coma for a few hours. “I should probably take some—”

“S’behind ya. Got ‘em out earlier. Water too.”

There were two tablets on the countertop by the fridge, along with a glass of water. You warily picked them up, almost as if they would come alive and bite you. “Thank you?”

“Mhm.” 

Quickly swallowing them, you downed the water because coffee wasn’t the best tool for rehydrating, but you’d be damned if you’d give up that mug for anything. Collecting your heels and your coffee, you started walking backwards out of the kitchen. “Listen, I’m gonna head upstairs and get off my—”

“Perfectly good chair right here.” 

“What?” Now you were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. There were no other chairs in the kitchen. Carol had the only other stool piled full of kitchen junk she had yet to put away. “Are you sure you’re awake?”

“M’wide awake. How’d ya get to Rosita’s last night?” 

Wait. Was Daryl blushing? “She helped—” No, that wasn’t right. Rosita and Tara came back long after you did. You distinctly remembered grumbling at them to turn off the lights. “How did I get there?” You said aloud, though softly.

“I took ya.”

Your shoes hitting the floor echoed through the quiet house, causing both you and Daryl to flinch. After a moment, no baby cried and no adults yelled. You walked forward and placed your mug back on the counter. “What do you mean you took me? You weren’t at the party.”

Cause Daryl’s home. He doesn’t like parties.

He shrugged but the pink tint to his cheeks was now traveling a route up to his ears. “Was workin’ on the bike. Saw ya stumblin’ ‘round in the dark. Didn’t wantcha to get hurt.”

“Did I—did I say anything stupid?”

And if I see him right now, I'm gonna ask to use his face as a chair.

“Nope.” The archer was staring at his coffee cup, rolling the smooth sides between his hands. He absolutely knew what you had said but he was giving you an out. Goddamn that man. He had to be beautiful, rough edged, and chivalrous at the same time? 

“Good.” You nodded. “Good. Thanks for the coffee.” You turned to walk out, leaving the coffee mug behind. “And for—you know, getting me there safely last night.” 

He nodded with a small, tight smile but didn’t say anything else. Maybe he was just teasing you. No, Daryl wasn’t the type. Well, he was but not with things that were at his expense. He was definitely going out of his comfort zone if the red tint on his face was any indication. Did he want to do that with you? You certainly wouldn’t mind. You’d wanted Daryl for as long as you could remember. Even before he started treating the group more like friends than survival buddies. There was always just something about him that called to you, pulled you in like a magnet, but there was this invisible line that didn’t feel safe to cross. Was he toeing that line with you now?

You might never get the chance again if you were to shut him down.

“Hey, Daryl.” You called from the stairs, barely looking over your shoulder. Your heart was racing.

“Yeah?”

“There’s—there’s no chair in my—what’re you—hey!” You were over his shoulder and being hauled down toward his room in the basement before you could do much more than laugh.

“Weren’t no way ya could make any line ‘bout a chair work.”

“Got a bed, right?”

“Got a mattress.”

“That’ll do, Dixon. That’ll do.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #Spotify

[prosperdemeter2]

Teaser Tuesday- collision

“You don’t usually call us,” Philip said just an hour later, Buck’s feet scuffing every other step on the paved path he traveled five minutes away from Durand. He had about another hour until Christopher got out of school, and driving home, when the traffic would be all kinds of messy, just didn’t seem to make sense. Plus, Doctor Krikorian had told him that it was a good idea to use his legs, rather than stay seated on them for long periods of time, and Buck had always been a pacer when he was talking on the phone. “Especially not so late in the afternoon.”

Buck frowned as he mind did the quick math - two in the afternoon meant that it was five in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t exactly late. “Sorry.” He mumbled anyway and kicked his toe against a pebble. 

“Is everything okay with Maddie?” His father asked around a hum, his voice dipping into a familiar concern. 

Buck wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t very often that his parents would first ask about how he was doing, even if they had been the ones to reach out to him. They were even less inclined when he was the one to reach out - it was fair, he supposed. Buck didn’t usually call them unless Maddie was in trouble. “Yeah,” Buck cleared his throat. “Yeah, Maddie’s fine. She’s settling in really well at dispatch. Her coworkers love her.” 

He was pretty sure Chim did too, but Buck didn’t know exactly how much their parents knew about Maddie’s romantic life and he wasn’t about to make things awkward by telling them about it. “That’s good,” his father always had a tone that he used whenever he was working. Buck could picture him, surrounded by the mahogany of his office, the plush red carpet and leather chairs. He would be bent over his laptop, or maybe a printed client file, and he wouldn’t look up until Buck was too silent to be normal. Dress shirt and slacks, glasses perched low on his nose. “What’s going on, Evan?” 

A part of him wanted to bristle at the implication that Buck wouldn’t call if nothing was going on but he knew it wasn’t exactly an incorrect assumption. He wouldn’t call if he didn’t feel like he had no other choice. “I was hoping you could help me out.” 

A paper rustled on the other end of the call. His father had shut his file and was, in turn, giving Buck his undivided, weighted attention. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” 

“I haven’t gotten myself into anything.” Buck defended with a glower down at the pavement. “Listen, I just need some advice -.” 

“How much do you need?” 

“How much advice?” Buck wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a lot -.” 

“Money, Evan. How much money do you need this time.” 

His bank statement flashed behind his eyes. Buck had more than enough to pay for Christopher to go whatever college he dreamed of, regardless of cost and still have some left over. He didn’t need money. “I don’t need any money.” Buck grumbled, his blood pressure spiking with the beating of his heart. “I just… do you have any friends that work in custody law?” 

“Custody law?” Philip echoed. “Evan, you didn’t get some girl pregnant.” 

“I didn’t get anyone pregnant, oh my god.” 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Philip laughed, as though his assumption had been a perfectly normal one to have (if it had been a few years ago maybe it was, but Buck had always practiced safe sex and he had always made sure his partners had done the same thing. It wasn’t like it was possible, with Eddie at least, for either of them to get pregnant, anyway.). “Why else would you be talking about custody law?” 

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Buck knew his parents didn’t care all that much who he was romantically with, they’d look at Eddie and his divorce with Shannon as messy and would, probably, try and paint Buck as their savior or whatever. But they didn’t know that Buck had been in a committed relationship with a man who had a child, and Buck was screwed if they found out that he had been in a relationship with Eddie while he was still married. They wouldn’t have cared about the logistics behind it - Eddie had had a responsibility and marriage vows and he should have, at least, been in the process of being an honest man before Buck had started sleeping with him (nevermind if Buck pointed out how hypocritical that belief was from the two of them - considering that Philip had dated his secretary when Buck was in high school (he only knew about that because the woman had been four years older than him and her brother had gone to school with him).). “Eddie, my friend -.” 

“Your partner.” Philip corrected, his tone tilting into interest. “Your sister mentioned you were in a committed relationship.”

“Right,” Buck bristled at the idea of Maddie telling their parents anything but, well, Buck had been in and out of the hospital quite a bit during the last year. It only made sense that Eddie had come up in conversation. “Eddie’s ex-wife -.” 

“Your mother and I were a bit shocked,” his father cut him off again with a belly laugh. “We didn’t think you’d ever want to settle down.” 

“I’m just full of surprises.” 

“You know what I mean, Evan.” Philip scolded. “You always made it seem like you wanted to… to travel the world. Be a bachelor forever.” 

“I’ve lived in LA for four years.”

“And before that you barely settled in a town for longer than six months.” Philip laughed again and it stuck to Buck’s skin. “Margaret and I were just shocked. That doesn’t mean anything bad.” 

Didn’t it? 

Buck didn’t know. 

He’d have to break down the entire conversation with Doctor Ocampo during their next session. Figure out why it made him feel like bugs were crawling all over his skin. “Okay,” Buck hated talking to his parents for this exact reason. He wanted to punch himself in the face. Maybe take off like a shot on this path and screw up his leg more than it would eternally be screwed up. “Eddie’s ex-wife is suing him for custody. I don’t think she has a case, but I’m not a lawyer.” 

“Does Eddie have a full name?” 

“I don’t see why that matters.” 

Philip sighed like he was tired of listening to Buck speak already. His seat creaked when he leaned back in it. “How old is their child?” 

“Chris is eight.” 

“Was a custody agreement signed when they got divorced?” 

“Yeah. Eddie has full custody.” Buck wracked his brain for the exacts of it all. “Shannon has visitation, but only as he sees fit. They-they wrote in the paperwork that he could rescind it whenever he saw fit.” 

“I’m assuming he rescinded that visitation.” 

“Yeah.” Buck agreed softly and shifted his shoulders away from a group of passing college students. “She.. she abandoned them a few years ago. Like, full on, no contact. I know that means that in California she has no legal claim to Chris but, but, I don’t know what it means if she’s been in contact with them for the past one? And Eddie already has a lawyer but so does Shannon, and she’s like…” Like mom, he almost said and caught himself at the last second, cheeks burning. “She’ll do whatever she can do to break him down.” 

“Slow down, Evan.” Philip chided. “You know I can’t follow you when you ramble.” 

Right. 

“I have an old law school friend that works out in Ventura. He’s the perfect guy for cases like these.” 

“Eddie already has a lawyer.” 

“A divorce lawyer,” Philip clicked his tongue. “I’m sure she’ll be able to suggest a colleague as well, but I want you to have all of your options.” 

“Oh, uhm… okay.” 

“Of course, Chase is expensive, but if you tell him who you are I’m sure he’ll give you a discount.” Philip continued. “He usually works in employment law, but he has a good history of custody and family law as it’s needed. Does your partner’s ex-wife pay child support?” 

“No. Eddie’s never asked her for a cent.”

“Good,” Philip drummed his fingers on his desk in the background. “I’m taking your mother out for dinner, I’ll start the introduction to Chase when we get back. You’ll have his information in your inbox by tomorrow.” 

#teaser tuesday #rewrite #collision

[xxxrubytuesdayxxx]

“What are you doing in my bed?”

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Fluffy angst and a bit of smut towards the end

Word Count: 7,294

Concept: Kim Hongjoong doesn’t want to be a virgin anymore and he’s determined to get his way, even if it involves sneaking into your bedroom between tasks. 

Credits to a few prompt-lists I found trawling the internet, but I lost the links, I’m sorry :( If you recognise any, please let me know and I will do proper credits x

Masterlist

“This was a terrible, terrible idea,” you think to yourself, as you survey the ‘damage’ in the dorm. Oh there’s nothing wrong with the state of the rooms - it’s the state of the boys themselves. Because of course what the company set up as a cooking and eating game for a V Live descended into a drinking game the minute the main staff left. Yet it’s actually surprisingly easy to chase the younger ones off to bed. Which just leaves the eldest two: long-legged, sweet but slightly tipsy Seonghwa and their petite, treacherously-pretty but definitely-plastered leader Hong-Joong. Sizing up the levels of intoxication and seniority, You decide to tackle the slightly younger leader first. 

“Bed, Hong-Joong!” you attempt, mustering up what you hope is a convincing ‘eomma’ vibe. Apparently you’re not very convincing though because he just squeals and bats you away.

“Ani! I’m leader! No bed!” he objects. “Anyway, I’m want to annoy Seonghwa first,” he announces, in endearingly grammatically-incorrect English, complete with a mischievous smile, before darting out of your reach and perching himself on the arm of the couch to watch his hyung record a ‘cute’ wake-up message for ATINY.

“I will show you the cute version,” Seonghwa tells his leader dutifully, cue card in hand, before turning towards the one waiting camera.

“Ani, I don’t want to see!!” wails Hong-Joong dramatically, collapsing off the arm of the couch onto the seat itself in apparent agony, with his eyes squeezed shut. “Argh! Jebal!” he yells, clearly determined to be a massive brat about poor Seonghwa’s task. He then proceeds to make ridiculous high-pitched noises while Seonghwa reads his message out, until Seonghwa cuts him off with a soft reprimand, knowing only he can use banmal with his leader: “Ah, keep quiet.” Hong-Joong obediently stops making noises, but then smirks unrepentantly when the older boy laughs at himself and stops the reading before screaming in frustration, himself, at the difficulty of his recording, making the now-quiet Hong-Joong snicker. 

“Argh! I can’t do this!” Seonghwa laments. Noting that Hong-Joong has calmed down, he decides to ask him for some feedback on the instructions:

“What’s the difference between sexy and sensuous?” This gets Hong-Joong’s attention. 

“Sexy? Ah, you don’t know?” he replies, springing up off the couch with drunken bravado, ready to show his hyung how it’s done. He staggers over to a very confused Seonghwa, who looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or worry.

“Sexy is...just...you see it…” he babbles meaninglessly. “This is sexy, this is sexy. If it’s sensuous...when you see it…” then gives him a somewhat-mystifying rendition of ‘sexy’ and mumbles "that's what I mean" before drifting out of the room and towards the stairs to their bedrooms, singing to himself. Seonghwa just stares after him, at a loss, then returns to his recording in peace. You give the older boy an encouraging smile, figuring he’s probably still sober enough to get himself up to bed, and then venture up to check on Hong-Joong. Only he’s not in his bedroom. 

Sighing to yourself, you check the other boys’ rooms but then have to conclude that he’s in the bathroom, and there’s not much you can do there, except knock and call out to him if he’s still not out in ten minutes. So you head to your room, intending to get changed and prepare for bed. Only when you swing the door open, Hong-Joong is sprawled on his back, still fully dressed, in your bed - under the covers. You clear your throat pointedly.

“Excuse me, Hong-Joong? What are you doing in my bed?” you ask him, exasperatedly.

“I will try to seduce you, noona,” he tells you, in his adorably-accented, slightly off-kilter English, lovely long eyelashes fluttering coyly, as he sits up.

“Wha-I mean what…?” you stammer, assuming he’s just got his words tangled again. “Seduce?” You’re desperately trying to think of a plausible alternative, but your mind is drawing a blank from panic. Admittedly nothing innocent fits this scenario.

“Eung - yuhokhaeyo,” he affirms, nodding cutely. 

“Um...you’re drunk, sweetheart,” you tell him, sitting tentatively by his side and patting his shoulder soothingly. You want to have misinterpreted him nearly as much as you want to take him up on his offer, but, despite his avowed attempt to ‘tempt’ you, in Korean parlance, you resist. He pouts a little and flings himself back onto his back, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Chwihaji anassoyo~~” [I’m not drunk] he whines, before switching back to English, frustrated at being misunderstood, as he sees it. “I just want...have sex with someone," he tries. 

“Probably not the best time to have sex, really,” you point out, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as you don’t want to embarrass him or indeed give yourself away. He sits up suddenly, opens his eyes and fixes you with an intense stare. You falter, blush and lower your own eyes, but he puts a finger under your chin and gently lifts your face to look in your eyes.

“Will you...reconsider...if I am...sober?” he asks you, carefully, still in English.

“I don’t...I mean it’s probably not a great idea, tiger,” you caution him. “Wait though...are you...what are you saying...exactly?” you correct yourself, suddenly noticing that his cheeks are flushed almost the same shade as his strawberry-bangs and his eyes are avidly studying your duvet. He hums nervously, smoothing the duvet with his hand, but doesn’t answer or even look up at you. The realization hits you as all the pieces come together. “Chyeonyo-ye-yo?” [Are you a virgin?] you ask him softly, not wanting to embarrass him either way. He nods shyly, keeping his head and eyes down and pulling at a loose thread on the duvet as his cheeks flush even hotter.

“Wow...I mean...wow,” you falter. “I’m sorry honey, I really didn’t know,” you reassure him, slipping your hand under his, on the cover, with your palm facing up. After a moment, his fingers curl tentatively around your hand and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. “Well...um...maybe we can wait until you’ve sobered up and then we can try and find you...I mean find a way to help you get...um...erm...laid,” you finish awkwardly, feeling like his innocence is being violated by the very thought of it. But then you remember he was the one who asked, so perhaps he’s not that innocent - at least of lustful thoughts.

“Laid?” he asks you now, reigniting your reluctance to contact one of the professionals the company usually engages for this kind of service.

“Er...laid is a slang term for...for um…” you stall.

“Sex?” Hong-Joong chirps brightly, looking pleased with himself and finally catching your eye, now that he feels he has something to be pleased with himself about - his English ability.

“Yeah, sex,” you admit reluctantly. “Look, Joong, are you sure about this?” you ask him.

“Ne,” he whispers, leaning towards you expectantly and closing his eyes again.

“Wow! No, no, no!” you deter him, hurriedly, gently moving him back against the headboard of your bed. “No, I meant are you sure you want me to find someone to have sex with you?” He pouts and opens his eyes - this time holding your gaze.

“I want,” he hesitates, checking your eyes, “to...to?” You nod, assuming he’s just checking his grammar. “I want to have sex with you, noona. Right now,” he tells you firmly, nodding for emphasis. You’re already shaking your head, but you stand up and pull him up with you to add some weight to your refusal of this proposal.

“No. You’re not losing your virginity when you’ve been drinking and might regret it tomorrow - or possibly not even remember it, from the looks of you,” you tease him gently. “C’mon - come back to your room and get some sleep.” He shakes his head vehemently, tossing his hair petulantly and stamps his foot.

“Kiseu-haejwo~~” [Kiss me] he whines, stubbornly refusing to move when you tug at his arm.

“It’s not happening, honey,” you sigh.

“But you call me honey,” he persists, tossing his hair away from his eyes to wink at you provocatively, and sticking his tongue out for good measure.

“Yeah. I did,” you admit, sighing again at his persistence. “But it’s just a general term of endearment, like...sweetheart.”

“Call me jagiya,” he flirts, deliberately fluttering his amazing eyelashes at you.

“Kim Hong-Joong!” you warn him in a furious whisper. He ignores you, quickly grabs your chin in both of his hands and presses his lips to yours before you can stop him. Startled, you just let him kiss you, until he teases your lips open and slips his tongue into your mouth.

“No-no-no-no-no! Bad, bad, boy!” you tell him firmly, pushing him away with both hands. He just giggles and tries again, but this time you’re ready for him and put your hand against his chest to keep him back. “Right. Bed! Right now...go!” you stammer, fumbling your words as you try to stop yourself from shaking...or wanting to feel his lips on yours again. He smirks, grabs you around the waist this time and slams you up against the wall to kiss you again. This time with no prelude, just straight up making out. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then push him away again.

He stops but only to lick his own lip experimentally. “Mm...you taste like fucking candy,” he teases you, with another wink, moving back in for the kill.

“What are you doing?!” you demand, stopping him again. “Behave! You’ll get me fired!”

“I won’t!” he pouts.

“You most certainly will,” you correct him. “If there was a camera in my room, I’d be packing my bags already.”

“Really?” he asks, looking genuinely worried this time. You nod fervently. “Staff have to sign contracts as well, you know,” you explain. “I’m sorry, honey. Look, let’s get you back to your room before the others start looking for you to finish that mission, okay?  He gives you a resentful, sulky look, but obediently exits your room, where you hear his dainty footsteps padding across to his bedroom and his door open and close, just before Seonghwa comes up the stairs looking for him. Trying not to panic at how close that was, you peel your clothes off and start to prepare for bed. 

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

So you really shouldn’t be surprised when he endeavours to make your job incredibly difficult the next day. Seems, contrary to the saying, hell hath no fury like a kpop idol scorned. Worse, you already have to explain the day’s schedule to eight boys in various stages of hangover hell. Fortunately, in most cases it’s more a matter of keeping them awake and attentive, but Hong-Joong’s idea of revenge is yelling things and making distracting noises throughout the entire meeting. By the time you’re on the last round of explanations and he starts to object, you throw caution to the wind and slap your hand straight over his pretty mouth.

“If you interrupt me one more time, Hong-Joong, so help me God...” you warn him, through clenched teeth. He watches you fake-innocently over your hand, while the others come around long enough to snicker conspiratorially at the sight of their leader being chastised. You remove your hand, but continue giving him a warning look, then finish explaining the schedule and shoo them all into hair and makeup, overriding their pleading cries of ‘feeling sick’ and ‘wanting to go back to bed’ with the reminder that they got themselves into this mess, and that tomorrow is a free day, so they only need to keep it together for the rest of today before they’ll win a break. 

They’re filing dutifully out of the cars, having had the luxury of a camera-less ride to the studio, Hong-Joong looking very pleased with his freshly-dyed bright blue bangs, when San and Wooyoung decide to accost you.

“What is it, Wooyoung?” you ask, eyeing a grinning San off suspiciously.

“Hong-Joong-hyung is want to have sex with you, noona” the younger boy informs you smugly, in halting English. San nods sagely, confirming this apparently hot tip. You close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly, trying not to show them that either a) you know this or b) you’re equally problematically attracted to their leader.

“Okay even if he did...which I doubt,” you begin, keeping your voice calm with difficulty. “Why on earth would he tell you two that?” you ask.

“He tell all members,” San updates you gleefully, before reverting to Korean to elaborate: “We were sharing TMI facts for games.”

“Great. That’s great,” you tell them sarcastically. “And on what planet does he think that information would be an appropriate TMI to share?”

“Oh he doesn’t...he was just really intoxicated by then,” Wooyoung giggles.

“This just gets better and better,” you marvel.

“Are you going to yell at him again, noona?” Wooyoung asks you, trying to contain his obvious glee. San watches seemingly impassively, but you can see the anticipation in his eyes. You narrow your own.

“So how do I know you two aren’t just making this up for a prank? Or to get your leader in more trouble?” you ask, pretending to be suspicious.

“Ask the others,” San shrugs. “Or ask him.” This throws you and they can sense it, which understandably deepens their curiosity and makes you panic.

"Fine. Tell him to come see me once you're done with the radio slot," you tell them, attempting to call their bluff. 

It doesn't quite go according to plan though. You’re just thinking you've maybe impressed the gravity of the situation on Ateez's leader when he interrupts you with characteristic sass, but careful to stick to jondaemal: “Noona, jebal geuman malhago kiseuhae julraeyo?” [Noona, would you please stop talking and kiss me?]. Thank God you were prescient enough to talk to him alone. You stare at him open-mouthed.

“You...what...did you hear anything I just said!?” you demand. He nods, cutely, swinging his shoulders with his hands clasped together in front of him to complete the innocent look, and shoots you a come-hither look, through his eyelashes.

“So um...if you heard me, did you understand me?” you check, wishing your Korean was more fluent for situations like this.

“Yes, I understand,” he murmurs in English, his voice husky. 

“So why…” you try, with another sigh. “Why did you still ask for a kiss?” He shrugs, pouts, pushes the toe of his boot into the leg of the couch he’s standing beside then flops heavily into it with a deeply wounded sigh. You follow suit, seating yourself on the other couch. Hong-Joong keeps his head lowered and stays silent, occasionally adjusting his eyelashes with his pointer finger until you have to ask, against your better judgment, but you feel bad for rejecting him:

“Gwaenchanaeyo, Joong?” 

He sniffs disconsolately, plays with his eyelashes again, and shakes his head with a little hiccoughing sob. Well now you feel really bad, but this is a no-win situation.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart,” you try, softening your voice. He nods, quickly, acknowledging your words, but swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. You hold back a sigh of exasperation, and move to sit by him on his couch, tentatively placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Joong - don’t be like that,” you plead. “These aren’t my rules. But even if there weren’t rules...you’re so young. Don’t you want your first time to be with someone else your age. Who maybe can share the...the experience with you?” You try not to picture how it will more likely go if you arrange something for him, but push the thought away, pretending to yourself that the company can somehow make it romantic for him.

“Ani,” he sulks, head still lowered and blueberry bubblegum bangs spilling over his face. “I want you to kiss me.” He finally lifts his head and fixes you with his big, dark eyes. “Jebal,” he begs, voice breaking a little. “Only once, then I stop asking,” he bargains, in English, picking up on the subtle change in your expression. You sigh, close your eyes, and put your head in your hands, steeling yourself. You can feel Hong-Joong’s eyes on you. You can almost feel his heart thumping in his chest as he waits nervously for an answer.

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly, knowing in your heart of hearts that, despite his words, it won’t stop here. “On one condition. You are not to tell anybody ever.” He nods obediently, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Okay then...Where am I kissing you?” 

He is already facing you in anticipation, his hands neatly on his thighs and his eyes shut so you can see those glorious eyelashes resting on his cheeks. The tiniest tracks of his tears stain his pretty face, and his lips are parted, ready for his requested kiss. But he opens his eyes at the question, confused.

“Right here,” he tells you, cocking his head to the side. You laugh softly.

“No. Where on yourself do you want to be kissed?” you amend.

“Oh…” he is a little flustered by the question. “On…” he touches his lips. “On my mouth,” he requests. You smile at his innocence. 

“Okay. Close your eyes again,” you tell him. He does so obediently and you lean across to kiss him softly, but sensuously, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, and tangle it with yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you twine yours around his neck, turning your head on the side to allow him to sate his appetite on you. You only stop him, gently, when his hands sneak around towards your chest.

“There you go,” you murmur, extricating yourself reluctantly from his embrace. “Happy?” 

“Yes,” he breathes, but he looks distinctly the opposite. “Noona? I...I have to go,” he tells you. You’re a bit taken aback, but you nod to him and let him up and he darts out of the room without a backwards glance. ‘Oh boy - this is gonna be fun’ you think to yourself, before leaving the little studio lounge to go round the other boys up.

You leave Hong-Joong until last, to give him some privacy to sort out his presumably mixed emotions, but it gets to the point that you really need them all in the cars, so you have to resort to checking the private recording booths, though you can’t imagine why he would be in one of them without booking it, and of course the bathrooms - which you plan to leave until absolute last. You ask the others if they’ve seen him, but they all shrug at you innocently. Finally Yeosang remembers that he saw their leader go upstairs to the sleeping pods. Thanking him exasperatedly, you jog up the stairs and then enter the space quietly, knowing that idols use it to recuperate between scheduled events. Most of the pods seem to be empty though, and it’s only when your ears adjust that you hear Hong-Joong’s voice and feel your cheeks flush. 

At least he’s not sleeping, you reason, so you won’t have to wake him, but the sharp little intakes of breath and the quiet moans you hear make you think waking him would be infinitely less trouble. Still...if he’s with someone, at least now you won’t have to find him a date. You slide the door across, preparing yourself to chastise him at least a little, for form’s sake, but he’s alone. And boy, does he look guilty when he catches your eye. After a brief deer-caught-in-headlights moment, he freaks out completely, squeals loudly and throws himself commando-style off the further side of the little camp-bed, re-emerging adorably with the top of his face peeping over the mattress at you. 

“Hong-Joong?! Are you alright?" you laugh.  He nods and gives you cute v-fingers over his eyes and a mischievous smile. "Erm, good...what were you...wait were you just getting yourself off?” you ask him, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop yourself and wishing he didn’t look quite so delectable - kneeling up on his shins, chest heaving, with his hair dishevelled, lips just parted and eyes at half-mast and his arms awkwardly crossed across his crotch.

“U-uh...no...I was just…” he stammers, deeply unconvincingly, despite the tinkling sound of the buckle of his jeans belt dangling against the side of his leg.

“Okay, so the second car is leaving and you need to get yourself down there quick smart before it leaves without you,” you tell him, choosing to leave the subject.

“Or…?” he asks you, a little panicked. You hesitate, not wanting to give him any ideas. But it’s going to be just as awkward if you make him come downstairs with you right now. 

"Or we'll have to arrange another way to get you home," you concede. "Look, just...fix yourself up. I'll work something out and come back for you. "

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

So this is the series of racy events that leads to you finding yourself in the back of a taxicab on the way back to the dorm from Hongdae, slightly the worse for the soju, with an endearingly tipsy Hong-Joong’s pretty head in your lap, using all your self-control to ignore the tantalizing effect of the incredibly illicit kisses that he is bestowing on your stockinged thighs whilst he’s meant to be ‘resting’.

“Joong, stop it! I’m warning you,” you chastise him for probably the twelfth time since you’ve clambered into this cab together. “I cannot believe you talked the staff into having me chaperone you for a night out on the town.” You don’t add that neither you nor they would have gone along with this if they’d had any idea whatsoever of his intentions. But lucky for him, you obviously weren’t going to tell on him and you gather the other boys had his back as well. Now however, you’re not entirely sure the scope for gossip won’t kill them.

Thank God, the taxi makes it back to the dorm before he can test you any further, and you jump out of the backseat to pay the driver, before helping Hong-Joong out and guiding him inside and up to his bedroom, where he spins around in a sort of pirouette before flinging himself onto his bed with a cute giggle.

“I look pretty today, don’t I, noona?” he checks with you, preening a little. 

“Very pretty,” you assure him, careful to keep the tone of your voice neutral. 

“No, you’re teasing me, noona~~” he whines. “Say it properly that I look pretty.” He shakes his head, making his long, silver earrings dance and jump.

“You look pretty, Hong-Joong-oppa~,” you tell him, with an aegyo flourish, before rolling your eyes teasingly at him and he laughs, loudly, with his hand in front of his mouth, then hits you playfully, in that adorable fashion he has. You give up on any pretence that he’s not dangerously close to getting his way, what with your guard being down and the soju still buzzing through you.

“Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” you ask him, wryly. His eyes go wide, unsure if he’s just understood you correctly.

“Mwo?” he chirrups.

“You heard me,” you purr, leaning forward to kiss him lingeringly. He responds immediately, arms coming around you to pull you against him and lips moving against yours eagerly, before you feel his tongue searching for yours. You kiss for a while, but when he lays down and pulls you over on top of him, you stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh. “I think we need to stop now, before someone gets hurt.” You stand up reluctantly, and give him what you plan to be one last kiss, tugging at his bottom lip gently with your teeth, before you pull away. He clings to you, kissing your jawline and then your neck, but you extricate yourself and stand up, making his face fall and his pretty smile merge into a pout.

“Wae, noona~?” he sulks, cute.

“Did you honestly think your devious little plot would work?” you tease him. “Whatever happened to ‘I won’t ask anymore once I get one kiss,’ hmm? You’ve had way more than one kiss, Joong...it’s time to move on back to reality now,” you tell him, sadly, turning to go. He sighs his defeat, letting his shoulders sink and making you wish fervently that you could just hold him and make him feel all better. You honestly can’t think of a reason that one of the professionals the company can hire for him will make him feel any more of a man than you could right now. And just as you’re mulling it over, reluctant to take your final leave, he lets his gaze rake you from head to foot, winks provocatively, and then bites his lip with a little ‘c'mere’ tilt of his chin.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” you ask him, rhetorically.  “‘Cause, you know what? If you did, then, fuck the rules. We’re having sex. Right now.” This time he manages not to give himself away completely, but his eyebrows go up and he swallows hard. He rearranges himself nervously on the bed as you check his door, making sure it’s locked. When you turn your attention back to Hong-Joong, you almost have second thoughts. He has arranged himself carefully, so that his shirt is open half-way to his waist, exposing most of his chest but artfully concealing his nipples, and he's leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him to give you the best possible view. His head is tilted, eyes lowered, and his slender neck looks impossibly delicate, wrapped in a black silk choker. He smiles bewitchingly and dares a look up through his lashes when you walk over to him and sit on the edge of his bed. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Hong-ssi?” you ask him softly.

“Yes!” he tells you firmly.

“Really?” you confirm. “Because you seem...maybe a little shy?” you try gently, putting your hand on his to try and help him relax.

“I have a little...little nervous,” he explains, bravely, in English, showing you with his fingers pinched together how ‘little’ the little bit of nervousness is.

“Oh - ginjanghaessoyo?” you check, in Korean. He nods quickly, blushing. You put your hand on his cheek and give him a light kiss. “Well, you don’t need to be. I promise I’ll look after you. And I’m sure you’ll do great for your first time. Still good?” Another nod. “Now, remember just tell me anytime if you want to stop, okay?” you instruct him. “I won’t be annoyed.”

“Okay,” he says with a bright smile.

“And you don’t need to be shy about making noise either, okay? If it feels good, you let me know and I will do the same. It makes it more fun,” you add, with a wink. He giggles, bites his lip and then nods again. “Now c’mere, you sexy little thing,” you tell him, hooking your arm around his waist to pull him closer, and kissing him lingeringly. He moans softly into your mouth and you reward him by deepening the kiss and letting your other hand stray inside his open shirt to play with one of his nipples. He gasps and then moans again, his lips still attached to yours and his tongue exploring your mouth with swiftly-growing passion. You keep kissing him, but press him back onto the bed properly, so that you can straddle his thighs. 

“Where do you want me to kiss you next?” you ask him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and pulling it open, so that you can stroke his naked chest.

“Odiena,” [everywhere] he begs, writhing impatiently under your touch and tossing his head on the pillows in an agony of anticipation. You laugh softly.

“I can’t kiss you everywhere at once,” you object. “Give me a clue...” You let one hand stray back to his nipples, making him arc his back, then you let your other hand deliberately brush the front of his pants, making him buck his hips up to press himself against your fingers.

“Seems like you’re having trouble deciding,” you tease him, letting your lower hand run the length of his still-clothed erection but bending your head towards his chest. You don’t let him get away with it that easily though, swerving at the last second to whisper into his ear:

“Why don’t you show me what you were doing in that booth upstairs this afternoon?”

“I...I wasn’t…” he stammers, blushing and nervously playing with his eyelashes.

“You were though, weren’t you?” you say. “That’s why you ran off when I kissed you. Do you have any idea how much catching you like that turned me on?”

“Oh jinjja?” he asks, surprised, but clearly flattered.

“Mmhm,” you assure him. “C’mon...let me see your jaji...I mean it feels pretty sexy,” you tell him, curling your fingers around the outline of it through his jeans. “Besides, do you honestly think I’ve been able to concentrate on anything all day while you’ve been teasing me while looking like a whole snack with this new hair?” you ask him, undoing his belt and jeans as you speak. He giggles, then self-consciously pushes his bangs back from his face and gives you another of his very pretty smiles but then hisses through his teeth and moans softly as you release his erection from his boxer-briefs and start to stroke him.

“But it’s you who tease me now, noona,” he complains, kissing you until you’re frantic for him. “You make fun by saying me all this things,” he elaborates, his breath getting more and more shallow as you speed up your strokes and his hips follow along by instinct, a thin trickle of precum leaking from his tip and making him groan helplessly.

“I’m not teasing you, babe,” you reassure him. “Every time you’ve caught my eye today, every time you’ve shown off these lovely assets of yours,” you stop caressing his cock to run your fingers longingly over his lips, then along his clavicle and then down over his hip, making him arc into your touch again… “I’ve wanted you more and more. But I’ve known that despite every inch of me aching for you, I’m not allowed to have you. You got teased by the others for saying you look pretty today? Well I think that you look not just pretty but also hot and very sexy. But I’m not supposed to tell you that. I’m not even supposed to think that,” you murmur, running your tongue over his bottom lip and eliciting a needy whine from deep in his throat. “But I don’t care anymore, Hong-Joong-ah...I want you so badly.” You kiss him again and he responds eagerly, but chastely, making you melt at his angelic sweetness. 

After a moment, you reach for his cock again and start to pump your hand up and down it, but he flinches, so you pull back straight away, noting that his cheeks are aflame with blushes.

“Would you like to stop?” you check with him, keeping your voice soft and gentle.

“Ani, ani,” he stammers, waving his hand to show he just needs to catch his breath. “I just worry that I...will make a mess everywhere...too soon,” he attempts to explain.

“Oh! You’re worried you’re going to cum soon?” you check. He nods, embarrassed. “That’s okay, jagi…” you tell him. “We can slow down for a little while if you like?” He nods again, quickly this time, smiling at you sweetly when you deliberately use the term he had asked you for earlier. You let him fix himself up and then curl into your arms against the pillows with his head on your chest. You lay together quietly for a little while, kissing occasionally, as you play idly with his blueberry-bangs. 

You’re just starting to count your blessings, thinking he’s actually drifting off to sleep after all and you can escape, leaving both his pride and his virginity intact, as his limbs start to feel heavier and his breathing slows towards sleeping pace. But then, just as you begin to gently disentangle yourself, he hooks your leg with his to stop you escaping, rolls over to press his hips against yours and then kisses you rather too passionately. You give in straight away this time, kissing him back with a ferocity to rival his own, and wrapping your legs up around his waist.

He pulls away a little, clearly unsure how to proceed, and kneels up between your legs to watch you, biting his lip again, but this time with a truly unconscious innocence of how sexy he looks. He tilts his head on the side, and then cautiously runs his hands up your sides, apparently not daring to do more. You smile at him and nod discreetly, but he just blushes again and clears his throat nervously.

“It’s okay, Hong-ssi,” you reassure him. “I won’t bite, and I’m not going to stop you anymore tonight. Just follow your instincts. You look like you maybe want to undress me?” you suggest. “Go on then, go ahead.” You smile again, trying to put him at ease, then raise your hand to his cheek and sit up to kiss him messily. You feel him smile and then his hands come up to peel the straps of your top off your shoulders and down your arms.

“Mmm…” you murmur against his lips, shifting to allow him to undo the front of your top, then wriggling a little to help him remove the whole thing, so that you’re kissing him in only your bra and skirt. “Mmff...keep going, jagiya,” you encourage him, lifting his hand back up to your bra straps. You let him struggle with your bra while you get to work on removing his shirt properly and undoing his jeans again. You know you could help him, but you kind of sense it’s better to let him make any mistakes that he’s going to make now, while he’s in a safe environment where he won’t be judged if he’s not perfect at everything. He makes a cute little frustrated noise as he tries to figure out the clasp, but then another pleased noise when he manages to get your bra off, but you pretend not to notice and just let him have his moment, sliding the garment off, then pulling you into his arms again, against his naked chest. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, then tease his jeans carefully off his hips and down his thighs, letting him kick and yank them the rest of the way off until he’s kneeling on his bed in front of you, blushing but eager, in only his boxer briefs. You lean across and start to tease kisses from his knee, working your way up his thigh towards his thinly-veiled erection.

“Oh, jebal~,” he begs you, trying to move his leg so that you will come higher. 

“Jebal? Mwo, jebal?” you murmur, wanting him to say it. “What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss...kiss,” he breathes, still in a pleading voice.

“Kiss? I’m already kissing…” you tease him, tickling his skin with your tongue now, and allowing your lips to dance ever nearer to the bottom leg-line of his panties. He moans, much louder now, and you let your other hand dip into his waistband to just barely skim the silky head of his cock. His moans intensify and he slams his head inadvertently back against the headboard of his bed, startling you a little, but not as much as he startles himself. He winces then rubs the back of his head with his hand and gives you a slightly hurt look.

“Yah, noona~” he whines. “You know what I’m mean. I want you to please...put my...my [he gives up and opts for the Korean when he can’t think of the English] je jaji...into your mouth,” he explains in a pouting almost-aegyo tone. You kinda want to tease him a little longer, but frankly you can never resist him when he talks in pout, even when the stakes are this high. And, judging by his sparkling eyes, he knows it too.

Trying not to hurt him, you pull his boxer-briefs carefully away from his erection and lick his shaft from balls to tip like an icecream. He shudders and another long, low moan escapes his body as his hands clutch his bedsheets. You raise your head to take him in your mouth, gently moving one of his hands to place it on the back of your head and indicating he should let you know how fast he needs you to go. Arcing into you, he presses his hand against the back of your head, needing you to speed up, which you do, using your free hand to hold him steady and being careful to keep your teeth behind your lips. After an interval of his pretty moans and your jaw starting to feel it, his hips dance, and he swears under his breath, in Korean.

“Wait-stop-stop!” he yelps, trying to pull away, but it’s too late and his voice trembles into another prolonged groan as you taste his warm jizz flooding your tongue. “Oh, shibal, mianhamnida,” [fuck, sorry] he stammers, mortified. You ignore his sweet objections and lick him clean, then pull him down by your side and let him cuddle shyly into you with his face turned into the crook of your neck.

“Noona?” he asks, squeezing your waist with his arm.

“What is it, Joong?” you murmur sleepily, the soju finally settling in your veins.

“Please stay here with me?” he requests. You sigh, afraid to tell him.

“No, no - that’s too much, doll,” you try to cushion the blow with a finger under his chin and a soft kiss on his lips. “I have to go back to my room, now that the damage is done.”

“But you say...well...we are going to have sex,” he pouts.

“And we did, you little minx,” you tell him, but he is already shaking his head, cheeky.

“Ani. I still am...virgin,” he corrects you defiantly, pleased with himself for remembering the English word. 

“You’re still? Wow...you’re really going to go for the literal definition, are you?,” you laugh quietly at his sass. “Well, you may find you need to recharge a little first,” you sigh, giving in. He veritably purrs at this update and you see a devilish grin slip across his lips, though he keeps his eyes tightly squeezed shut, making you marvel anew at his beautiful eyelashes, by this stage of the evening innocent of eyelash-curlers or mascara, yet still works of art in themselves. 

You cuddle up together for another small interval, but this time you realize that you must have drifted off to sleep yourself, when you open your eyes to find the sun peeking over the horizon outside. You smile to yourself when you notice Hong-Joong slumbering sweetly, completely naked in your arms, but you’re not sure how to disentangle yourself without waking him again. You manage to edge yourself out of his embrace, get your top back on and locate your bra but when you turn to give him one last longing look, he is propped up on one arm, eyes blearily open and watching you resentfully. He opens his mouth to say something and you swiftly close the distance between the two of you, to put a finger to his lips.

“You trick me,” he whispers fiercely. You try not to laugh at his indignant tone.

“I didn't, sweetheart! I fell asleep, same as you,” you defend yourself.

“So we have sex now?” he asks you, yawning and covering his mouth politely. You shake your head at him with amused incredulity.

“We can’t now,” you tell him. “There’s no way people won’t find out. It’s morning.” He just shrugs and tries to pull your skirt off.

“I don’t care,” he informs you cheekily, switching to an attempt to remove your top when you intervene with his attempt to remove your skirt. “If we are...balli-balli...[quickly - if you go fast] then we not wake members,” he bargains.

“Okay, okay! My gosh, you’re persistent,” you marvel, drawing him into your arms and kissing him. He deepens the kiss, tugging at your lip with his teeth in the sweetest punishment as his hands work quickly to remove the rest of your clothes.

“Hey - where’s that shy boy from last night?” you tease him, but he just sticks his tongue out at you and taps your legs, making you spread them so that he can climb between them. He’s all masterful confidence until you feel his erection tickling the inside of your thighs and he pauses, on his hands and knees, looking at you nervously. You run your hands along his body and down onto his hips and pull him forward.

“Ah - there’s our shy boy! It’s okay, jagi,” you reassure him, wrapping your legs up around him and lifting your hips to meet him. He kisses you under the jawline, and lets his hands stray towards your chest, so you drop your hand down to guide his cock to rest against your already-wet folds, then give your hips a little thrust so that he slips in. He gasps and thrusts his own hips instinctively, then you grab them and pull him the rest of the way forward, simultaneously eliciting a jagged moan from his lips and sighing with relief yourself, as he slides right up inside you, making you call out his name. He moans your name back to you, then finally starts to rock his hips back and forward, his breath coming hotter and faster against your neck as his moans get louder and more urgent.

“Aigoh! Ai-ai-yuh...uh! Aiohhohh!” he vocalizes shamelessly as he gets more and more caught up in your lovemaking, until he appears to have forgotten his surroundings. You surrender to him completely, kissing and caressing every part of him that you can reach.

“Oh-uh...pokbalhaga naol got gatayo~” [I feel like I’m going to explode] he confesses as his hips start to reach jackhammer speed.

“Oh, jinjja?” you gasp. He moans in the affirmative into your neck. “Do it, jagi. Cum inside me!” you gasp. His hands force you to speed up to his pace and his lovely voice climbs high enough to definitely have caught the attention of the other members. 

“Oh shib!” he groans, his lips parted and his eyes at half-mast in a perfect mask of sexual gratification. “Oh...oh ne...oh fuck...Do you think…” he pants out “they can...hear us?”

“Yes we can!” hollers WooYoung from behind the wall, his voice indicating that he’s been wanting to object since the beginning of this latest tryst. “Please stop already! We’re happy for you hyung but honestly, we’re trying to sleep too, you know?!” he elaborates. Shaking your head at WooYoung’s lack of tact, you grab Hong-Joong’s sexy, taut ass in your hands, kiss him fiercely on the lips and lift your hips to a higher angle, letting him penetrate you even further. His hips do a final dance and you feel him cum up inside you, before collapsing next to you on his back, chest heaving and one arm flung across his face, while the other pulls you close.

“Better?” you ask him, cuddling against his side.

“Mmm....ne...much better,” he affirms, sighing contentedly. 

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #hongjoong smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

but it is sunlight

Fandom: Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Gaim, Kamen Rider Ghost Characters: Tsugami Shouichi, Hikawa Makoto, Tendou Souji, Kagami Arata, Kazuraba Kouta, Kureshima Takatora, Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto, Alain Song: "Sunlight," Hozier (playlist here) Warning: Mildly NSFW--not especially explicit, but people do have sex in this story

a buried and a burning flame – i

A shared day off is rare, but it does happen sometimes, and today the weather is so warm and perfect that Makoto is content to sit on the step drinking a lemonade and watching Shouichi garden.

Their garden space here isn’t as big as the one Shouichi got used to at Professor Misugi’s house, but it’s been expanded upwards with poles and frames and other contraptions that Makoto isn’t quite clear on. Really, they’re lucky to have a plot at all—the restaurant has its own rooftop space, so it’s not like Shouichi’s hurting for plant contact, but he needs it for himself as well. Makoto’s not sure he’ll ever understand the way Shouichi craves the presence of growing things. But then, he’s just happy to see Shouichi enjoying himself.

He glances around the garden briefly as Shouichi’s murmuring over a cucumber plant and frowns. “Aren’t sunflowers always supposed to face the sun?”

“Generally, sure.” Shouichi smiles but doesn’t look up from his work. “Why?”

“Well, if they don’t then doesn’t that mean they might be sick? The sun’s south of us right now, but your flowers are facing west.”

“Our.”

“Mm?”

“It’s your garden too.”

“Well, sure, but I mean it’s really—”

“Anyway, don’t worry, if they were sick I’d know. They’re probably just a little slow today.”

Makoto’s dubious, but he nods, and Shouichi beams at him for a moment and then goes back to fussing with the cucumbers. Once he finishes with them, he does something with a tomato plant nearby, and then hurries over to a small patch of green onions on the other side of the garden.

The faces of the sunflowers move to follow him as he walks. Makoto almost misses it, catches their motion out of the corner of his eye as he, too, is turning, and then freezes as they continue to shift. “Do—did you just see that?”

Shouichi frowns. “See what?”

“Ah…no, never mind.” Makoto settles forward, elbows on his knees, watching in soft fascination as Shouichi continues to work. “It’s not that important, I probably imagined it.”

---

the icarus to your certainty – i

Tendou doesn’t make demands most of the time, but he doesn’t make suggestions either. He makes statements and then continues on in the calm assumption that they’re true.

When he gets back from his trip abroad, for example, the first conversation Arata has with him ends with, “We’ll see you for dinner at six.” It’s not an invitation, or a request, or a question. It’s just a statement of fact, its truth etched into the fabric of the universe, and so Arata gets to the house at six precisely.

There are other statements that follow, of course. Like, “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow,” and, “Other people address me by surname, not you,” and, “It’s late, you’ll stay the night.” The thing is, Arata wants to bristle at this casual certainty, but he can’t manage it, because so far Tendou—Souji—hasn’t said anything incorrect. When he makes these statements, Arata wants them to be true, and so they becometrue by default. He shows up at the same time the next day. He says, “Souji,” instead of, “Tendou,” and is shaken by the faint, surprised smile he gets in response. He stays the night.

Tonight Souji’s making some kind of crab risotto thing, and Arata is helping, which is to say making a salad. This is already strange, since it used to be that he was barely even allowed in the kitchen. Hiyori, visiting for the evening, is sitting on the couch with Juka while Juka talks about one of her classes at Jounan University. It’s very domestic.

He finishes slicing cucumbers and is reaching for the lettuce when Souji turns to him holding a small spoon and says, “Taste this.”

On automatic, and because his hands are busy, Arata just leans forward and eats the spoonful of risotto, letting it spread out creamily over his tongue. “Mm.”

Souji is looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think—wait, you’re actually asking me for my opinion?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You just…don’t usually ask for opinions.”

“Not from other people, no, but other people aren’t you.”

Arata laughs in warm surprise. “Really? What makes me so different?”

He’s not really expecting an answer, but Souji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “If all of humanity were alchemically distilled into one specimen exhibiting only its finest qualities, that specimen would be you.”

Arata stares at him. “I. You. Are…is this a quotation, are you quoting something?”

Another one of the faint, surprised smiles he’s gotten to like seeing. “No. But perhaps someday, someone else will quote me, and rest assured, the recipient of the quotation will not deserve it nearly as much as you.” And, before Arata can really process that, “I would appreciate your opinion on the risotto now.”

“I…it’s really delicious, but. Maybe it could use a pinch more salt?”

Souji nods firmly. “I’d suspected as much. Thank you.”

He returns to his cooking, reaching for one of the little pots of salt next to the stove, and leaves Arata to cut up lettuce and try to figure out what just happened.

---

i had been lost to you – i

Kouta’s visits are infrequent, inconsistent, and never announced. The most warning Takatora ever gets is a sudden, powerful waft of flowers and fruit, moments before a zipper opens in the air in front of him. He’s gotten used to it, as much as one can get used to something like that.

(Kouta always comes to him. His house has more privacy than most other spots Kouta knows in Zawame, and anyway, according to him, “You’re always easy for me to find.”

Sometimes those visits are for “work,” as Kouta calls it, and he stays only for a brief moment before rushing off to whatever world-ending crisis has caught his attention. More often, though, the reason is nothing more than, “Things are aligned correctly right now, and I missed Zawame.”

He’s sitting in the park now, on a bench under a camellia tree. A casual observer wouldn’t look at him and see a god, just a smiling young man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, shoes kicked off so that he can curl his bare toes in the grass. Maybe he’s waiting to meet a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; maybe he’s just enjoying the good weather. As Takatora watches, though, a squirrel runs down the trunk of the camellia tree and leaps onto Kouta’s shoulder, and he turns and beams at it, apparently listening intently to its chattering. A jay is perched on his knee. Two stray cats are sprawled on the grass flanking him like indolent sentries, and a dog with a collar, probably lost, is curled up against his hip on the bench.

He lifts a hand, cupped, and Takatora knows without being able to see it that his palm is filling with seeds, manifesting as if from his skin. He’s done it before. The squirrel runs downs his arm and begins to stuff itself, the jay hopping from his knee to his fingertips to do the same. With his other hand he reaches up absently to catch a gleaming red apple that drops down from the camellia tree and begins to eat. Only the plants nearby lean away from him, which seems strange until Takatora realizes that they’re not really leaning, they’re growing, extending outward from his presence like an aura, the grass increasingly tall around his ankles.

How strange to see him at peace. And what an astonishing thing, that he should turn his face even for a moment from the new world he guides and his cosmically-designated beloved to walk once more in the city that treated him so poorly.

(She doesn’t visit. She can’t set foot outside of her hallowed forest now. But Takatora did get to speak to her, once, and he knelt and begged her forgiveness for all that he allowed to happen and received in return a kiss so gentle and yet searing in its benediction that even now he can feel it on his skin, and sometimes has to look in the mirror to see if she left a mark on his forehead.)

“Hey!” Kouta is waving to him with the hand holding the apple core. “Takatora! Are you done with your meeting thing? Come on over, I want to hear everything that’s happened since the last time I was here.”

Takatora blinks and nods, shocked out of his reverie, and heads over to the camellia tree. The stray cats scatter as he approaches, but none of the other animals move, so after barely a moment’s hesitation he sits down in the grass at Kouta’s feet, unmindful of his suit, and says, “Well, reconstruction work is nearly finished, we’ve only got two or three more buildings left to repair. Did I tell you about the dance classes at the new community center?”

“The ones that Zack and Peko are running? I think you mentioned them a little last time, did those finally start?”

Camellias bloom out of season over their heads. “Yes, only a few weeks ago. There may be a few other Beat Riders assisting as well, possibly by running additional courses, apparently enrollment was well past what anyone had anticipated.” Takatora leans against Kouta’s shin as the grass slowly creeps up past his knees, comforted by his radiant warmth. “And Mitsuzane’s continuing to enjoy university, he’s going to be working for one of his professors next semester as a teaching assistant…”

---

love and its decisive pain – i

Being around Takeru is a strange experience now, because by simply existing he exerts a spiritual pressure unlike anything else Alain’s ever encountered. The pressure isn’t negative, but it is constant, the weight of a higher reality radiating from his skin. Or, not a higherreality—Alain isn’t sure what it is, but Takeru’s certainly of the human world.

Alain isn’t sure if people who aren’t from the Ganma World even notice it. Certainly he’s seen Javert twitch minutely when handing Takeru something, he’s seen how Igor goes tense around him, even Alia’s been known to flinch away from the intensity of his proximity. Are they unusually sensitive, or are the people of the human world just numb to it?

Perhaps it’s nothing new, and he’s just always been like that and that’s why people don’t notice. Makoto would know—he’s of the Ganma World now, even if he came to it late. “Has Takeru always had such…presence?”

Makoto glances at him, and then over at Takeru, who’s crouching to offer a rice ball to a child sniffling on the temple steps. The child takes it, hand brushing Takeru’s, and relaxes in the same way that Igor might tense at the same contact, perceptibly basking in that unseen but powerfully felt aura.

“No,” Makoto says. “No, this is new. He wasn’t like this before. Or at least he wasn’t like this when we were young.”

Somehow this answer isn’t reassuring at all. “I see. That’s…it’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

That’s the point at which Takeru hears them and looks up, face transformed by delight at the sight of them. “Makoto! Alain! When did you get here?” Behind him, Narita comes forward to walk the sniffling child over to a quieter corner, asking her as they go whether she knows either of her parents’ phone numbers. Takeru waves goodbye to her, beaming, and then hurries across the room to crash into Makoto’s arms, and Alain can see Makoto being overtaken by that benevolent pressure. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Nothing’s going on, right? Everything’s ok? Who’s taking care of things in the Ganma World?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makoto says into Takeru’s hair. “Alia’s got everything under control.”

“This is a social call,” Alain adds, and is favored with an embrace of his own, knees almost buckling under the warmth of Takeru’s presence. “We just missed you.”

“I missed you both too. I hope you’ll be here for a couple of days, at least?” The weight of his joyful expectation is so much that Alain can only nod. “Wonderful! Here, come on, you’re both probably hungry, let’s go get takoyaki.”

He’s human, Alain realizes as Takeru’s fingers wrap around his and he feels that shiver run through him again. That’s all it is, and also everything that it is. More than anyone else in this realm, he is human.

What an extraordinary thing.

“I’d like that,” Alain says out loud, and Takeru is already grabbing Makoto’s hand as well. “It’s been a while since we shared a meal.”

“It has, hasn’t it? Let’s go, you two can tell me all the news while we’re eating.”

---

a buried and a burning flame – ii

For the most part Shouichi doesn’t initiate. It’s not that he’s not enthusiastic about sex, he’s just an awful tease. Little gestures, bumps and brushes, obvious double entendre that he then winkingly denies; he’d rather drive Makoto to distraction and pretend innocence until Makoto finally loses patience and backs him up against the nearest wall. He even admitted to it once, in an unguarded moment of drowsiness. “I like when you do that, it’s fun. And it’s not like I can just ask you to.”

“You could, though,” Makoto had said, but Shouichi had already drifted off.

They’ve been together all day, but Makoto can barely remember any of it clearly except Shouichi. Everything else fades into the background when faced with the vividness of his smile.

Makoto’s shirt is somewhere back in the living room, he thinks maybe on the couch. They’ve been trying to get Shouichi’s shirt off, but that’s been a tougher prospect, because it’s a pullover. Finally, though, it comes off over his head and lands on the floor, and Makoto presses him to the wall again. And now, even more vivid than his smile is the feeling of his skin, burn-hot against Makoto’s lips and hands and chest, his fingers like a brand curling around the back of Makoto’s neck as Makoto kisses his throat.

They barely make it to the bedroom.

The heat of him is extraordinary, feverish, it would be frightening if Makoto wasn’t used to it. He is, though, they’ve been together for years now, so instead his own thoughts can melt away in the face of Shouichi and his pleasure, the taste of him, the sound of his breathless cries, Shouichi arching up against him. Sure, he gets off somewhere in there too, but the important thing is Shouichi, climaxing underneath him with a gasp of, “Makoto,” and a kiss that Makoto would be willing to end the world for.

Afterwards, they lie wrapped around each other in a state of abstracted bliss until Shouichi mumbles something about being thirsty, at which point Makoto extricates himself despite the attendant sleepy protests and heads to the kitchen with a blanket around his waist to get drinks. Passing the bathroom on the way back, he pauses, frowning, at the sliver of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It hadn’t been sunny enough today to get a real sunburn, but there’s a sunburn on the back of his neck nevertheless, bright red although not painful. He sets down one of the glasses, reaches up and covers it almost perfectly.

When he realizes what it is—although Shouichi’s palm is slightly broader than his, Shouichi’s fingers slightly shorter—he blushes and picks up the glass again, heading for the bedroom, hoping that his hair is long enough that no one at work asks about the handprint burned into his skin.

---

the icarus to your certainty – ii

It’s not always so precipitous.

Normally they have to be quiet, because normally there’s at least one other person in the house. And in any case, Souji dislikes rush—he’ll approach anything and everything with a plan in mind, sex included.

Tonight, though, after dinner finished, Juka distributed a round of cheek kisses and then gathered up her bag and headed out, to meet up with a university friend she’s doing a project with. Hiyori left shortly after that. (She rarely stays the night anyway, she doesn’t like to leave her parakeet alone.) They’re alone in the house unless the Zecters are around somewhere, and they mostly keep to themselves, they’re hardly company in the same way.

But.

Precipitous.

They do dishes together, in comfortable silence, and once that’s done and his washing gloves are off Souji turns to make one of those true statements. Except that Arata decides he doesn’t feel like hearing one right now, so before Souji’s even gotten through one word Arata takes a step forward and kisses him, bracketing him against the edge of the counter with both arms. Souji makes one of those little surprised noises and drapes his arms over Arata’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and a couple of minutes later Arata’s hands shift down to lift and Souji’s legs wrap around his waist, and.

It’s good that they have the house to themselves.

They can’t stay at the kitchen counter, because it’s a bad height and also that’s not sanitary, and the dinner table won’t support their weight, which is a lesson they learned the hard way. The couch is an option, though, and it’s not easy to get over there with another person wrapped around him, but it is doable. He sits, or more lands, with a thump, Souji in his lap, Souji’s hands on the sides of his face tilting his chin up, and for some while lets himself be overwhelmed by having all of Souji’s considerable attention focused on him.

A pause for breath, for the removal of at least some clothing (and if Souji fumbles Arata’s shirt buttons, Arata’s going to save the memory for himself and certainly never mention it), for—“Are you all right?”

For Souji looking down at him, dizzy-eyed, and saying, slowly, “Your depths are such that I think I could drown in you.”

Arata reaches up, takes hold of his wrists, thumbs rubbing gently across the pulse points. “I mean, I can’t get poetic about it like you can,” more quietly than warranted given that they’re alone, “but you’re so much that sometimes I feel I could burn up, so that seems like a fair trade.”

He’s expecting that surprised look, but it doesn’t come, because what he gets instead is a kiss that would definitely have him on his ass in seconds if he wasn’t already sitting down. “More than fair.”

---

i had been lost to you – ii

Even before his apotheosis Kouta was a man built for pleasure. It must have been a glorious accident of his birth, Takatora thinks, that on his mouth smiles are so natural, that his body responds to any rhythm with grace, that he laughs so easily. Takatora has lived his entire life on the far other end of that spectrum—at best, he might call himself austere—but he can’t bring himself to be jealous of such an infectious and in-born joy. He can only hope to increase it, in whatever way he can.

So he kneels.

It isn’t worship, because Kouta will not accept his worship. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, he may be a god but he refuses to be treated like one. But love, as a great man once said, is a sacrament best taken kneeling, and while there are many points Kouta will argue, Takatora’s esteem and affection for him are not one of them.

Really, though, Kouta isn’t saying anything especially coherent right now.

His unnecessary but habitual breathing is coming short, and his hair flickers from deep brown to unearthly gold as his concentration disintegrates. If his eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they, too, would be flickering. His fingers, curled on the edge of the bed, have flowers blooming between them. And Takatora, the indirect cause of this riotous growth and rendered speechless for more immediately physical reasons, continues until his lips are numb and Kouta is pulling him up and flattening him to the bed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to stop me, you know I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No,” and a kiss, “no, we don’t know if it could—” and another kiss, “so no, even though you know I, you know—Takatora, I—” and the dissolution of coherence once again, now for both of them, as Takatora dizzily allows himself to be subsumed by Kouta’s passion and enthusiasm.

The first few times he was able to visit, afterglow involved actual glowing on Kouta’s part, which was the cause of some mutual hysteria—Takatora doesn’t want to call it giggling, but that’s really the accurate term. The glow’s under control now, and Kouta lies against him, asleep, and does not look more divine than any other beautiful man in repose.

There are still flowers blooming on the edge of the bed, red and orange against the plain bedspread. They’ll be scolded away later, but for the moment they are bright and strong and vivid. Takatora, drowsy himself, drifts off gazing at them, Kouta’s arms tight around his waist.

---

love and its decisive pain – ii

They are devoted partners, and thus Takeru’s anger is their anger, Takeru’s sorrow is their sorrow, Takeru’s joy is their joy, and, most crucially in this moment, with the dawn not arrived and the day yet to start and make them all busy, Takeru’s pleasure is their pleasure. And because he is who he is, because he feels everything with such strength and fervency that it radiates from him like sunlight, it is such pleasure. On his back, hands above his head, eyes bound, he has given himself over to their loving mercy and yet the weight of his existence is still enough to envelope them both.

Alain leans down to kiss the smiling mouth below the blindfold and say, softly, “Is there something you want?”

“Isn’t the point of this that you two are making the decisions?” Takeru sounds like he might laugh.

Alain glances over Takeru’s chest at Makoto, who is already looking over at him, and who raises an eyebrow before saying, “Is that a serious question or are you just being difficult?”

It’s definitely suppressed laughter. “A little of both, really. I want you to do what you want. I trust you.”

So they do what they want, which, gloriously weighed down by Takeru’s unconditional trust, is what he wants too. And what they want is to kiss, to touch, to take their pleasure in ways that render him arch-backed and breathless and crying out as they take their turns on him. They take their pleasure until he’s coming in an unexpected avalanche of laughter which, like all avalanches, overtakes them as well.

Dawn is breaking, light spilling in through the open window for Takeru to flinch against as they uncover his eyes. He buries his face against Makoto’s chest as soon as his arms are free and he can move, mumbling, “It’s too bright, I’m going back to sleep, you both have to keep me company since you’re the ones who wore me out.”

“Right,” Makoto says drily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Alain is draping himself over Takeru’s back, “humans need sleep, I forget that sometimes.”

He can feel Takeru’s smile like a separate presence in the room, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, like you’re so inhuman.”

Alain presses his face to the back of Takeru’s neck and finds that, at least for the moment, the pressure of his reality is not so much a weight as it is an embrace, enfolding the three of them as they lie together drowsing. “It’s not that we are less, perhaps.” A yawn against Takeru’s warm skin, occasioning a ticklish wriggle. “It’s just that you’re so much.”

#tsugami shouichi #hikawa makoto #tendou souji #kagami arata #kazuraba kouta #kureshima takatora #tenkuuji takeru #fukami makoto #ganma alain #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge #god this took so long

[redpandaramblings]

Sweet Treats  Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!!  Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:-  Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic.  I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant.  “Come on, this place is too fancy.  Pro heroes eat here!  There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door.  “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday.  Two, we do have a reservation!  It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in.  Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out!  Now come on!  Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest.  She really had wanted to go here.  They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports.  The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms.  Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room.  A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did.  Drinks were served and food orders were placed.  Laughter and conversation bubbled around.  Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts.  The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door.  A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake.  They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion.  “This doesn’t look like what we ordered…  It’s way too big.” They murmured.  “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…”  They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward.  Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view.  Shapely arms pose into a flexing position.  A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top…  fifty….”  His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level.  A man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake.  Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh.  Yep, it hurt.  Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream.  She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. 

“That was…  The knocks were the cue…  I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.   

“Mi vida se acabó.  Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora.  Puedo ver los titulares.  El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were.  Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own.  She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright.  Promise.  Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth.  He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty.  “Gracias.  Lo siento.  I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”  

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down.  “Want us to get some staff or find your friends?  I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment.  “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here?  He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!”  One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want.  Make it all an equal playing field.”  Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned.  “I’m going to murder you all.  No court would convict me.  Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”  For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room.  Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners.  Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room.  Some presents were piled in one corner.  “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday.  My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.”  Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes.  “Unexpected for sure.  You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had.  Will be telling the story for years.  The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows.  “Not gonna mention the pro hero part?  Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head.  “No way!  I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that!  You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image.  I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement.  “Yeah dude.  Honest mistake.  We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room.  Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter.  Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed.  “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!”  Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor.  “Happy birthday, nice to meet you!  Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!”  Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet.  Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs.  “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger.  You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.”  Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe.  “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point.  Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har.  Didn’t realize this was comedy hour.  Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake.  “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro.  You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  Sero sighed.  “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!”  Mina laughed.  “Or at least not right away.  First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?”  Sero groaned.

“Absolutely!  We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed!  I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that.  Personal mementos only!  Scout’s honour!”  y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots.  And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains.  They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed.  It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of.  They wheeled out the other cake as they left.  After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said,  “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now?  Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face.  “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!”  Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table.  Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past.  Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident.  Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling.  It had taken his family half an hour to find him.  Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another.  And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves.  Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon.  We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up.  “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!”  Denki headed to the door.  “Later, gators!  Had an awesome night!  Should do it again sometime.  And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night!  And congrats on cracking the top fifty!”  Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door.  Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out.  Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night.  But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine”  Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore. 

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut!  Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued.  “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch.  She’s been a mega fan for years.  Total simp.  That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow.  Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned.  “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head.  “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened.  One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck.  “Really, it was just an honest mistake!  No big deal!”  She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa.  So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!”  Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow.  Some exclusive merch.  Tickets to an event…  A date perhaps?”  Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled.  Her friends were quick to jump in.  “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what?  No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?”  Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No!  I mean…”  Y/n drew a deep shaking breath.  “I’d… I’d like that.  If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n.  “Absolutely.  Just put in your number and I’ll text you.  No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad.  Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in.  “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room.  “Hey slick!  Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing.  “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back.  “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope!  I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa.  But for now, hasta luego.”  Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends.  Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends.  Soon enough, everything was taken care of.  Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out.  She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket.  When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.  Happy Birthday,  Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you.  I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures?  Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

#reinawritesbnha #happy birthday #i'm blessed to have you as a friend #birthday fic #sero x reader #hanta x reader #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #cellophane x reader #sero reader insert #hanta reader insert #reader insert #bnha reader insert #misuse of cake #aged up characters

[the-angriestpineapple]

caught // bakugou x fem reader

18+, aged up, last semester at UA. A male reader here.

Your last semester at UA was really really difficult, if you were being honest. It made sense for it to be, UA was one of the most prestigious schools. All the hero course students were basically studying together as one big clusterfuck – there were specific tables at the library that had all but been roped off for your classes whenever you needed it. Hero students would show up, sit at the tables and study with whomever was there. Usually you got a good mix of 1-A and 1-B students. Iida, Kendou, and Yaoyorozu were there a lot trying to help in any way they could. Kaminari, Tetsutetsu, and Sero were usually there trying to understand multiple subjects. When you got there that afternoon on a Sunday though, the tables were empty. That wasn’t the worst thing, you mostly understood the subject you came to study. It was near silent for a good twenty minutes and you were so in the zone that a stack of books being dropped on the table next to you made you nearly fling yourself from your chair. You look up with irritation, ready to tear into whom you are assuming is one of your friends playing a prank, and are met with angry red eyes. Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can really think about it, and he raises his eyebrow. Of all the people you thought you would see at the group study table, Bakugou was not one of them. He was so reclusive. “Promised Shitty Hair. Why, you got a problem with me or something, princess?” He drops down into the table next to you and stares at you with those intimidating red eyes. You try to bristle, to not look like his intense glare is shaking you to your core. “No, you just aren’t one to help people study. Or at all.” It’s a low jab, saying that to a future pro Hero – and a damn good one, you’ll admit – but you can’t help it. His eyes narrow. “I help people plenty,” he growls. You just turn to look back at your notes. Prickly, asshole attitude or not, you had the biggest crush on Bakugou Katsuki. He was so fucking beautiful to look at, even when scowling. His drive and ambition and domineering presence were all so attractive to you, and more than a few times you’d gotten off to fantasies of what he would be like in the bedroom. You’re not sure you’d exactly call yourself submissive, you certainly had a mouth and plenty of sass. However, the thought of Bakugou and his angry red eyes staring down at you as you take him into your mouth… But you can’t focus on that right now, you need to study. There’s a few moments of near silence, the only sound in the room being your pencil scratching at paper as you take notes, before you register Bakugou opening his book next to you. You wonder how long it’s gonna take Kirishima to get here. You aren’t super close with him, or any of 1-A really, but you know he’s really good at keeping Bakugou in check. And bantering with everyone around him. And being a distraction from the ridiculously chiseled body currently sprawled over the chair next to yours. You glance quickly at him out of the corner of your eye, focusing on his face. He’s staring down at his book, neutral faced while he reads. He’s even handsome when he has no expression, fuck. You don’t want to get caught looking at him so you look right back down at your notes. Yes, Calculus. That was definitely a thing you needed to know right now. You carefully write down the next problem without bothering to check the last one. “It’s wrong.” You pause, then turn to look to your left. Bakugou has one of his arms thrown over the back of his chair, legs spread, and he’s looking right at you. You are just staring at him, so he rolls his eyes and gestures to your notebook. “Your last problem. You did it wrong.” What? No you didn’t. You look down at the problem with a frown glancing over your work. “No, it’s right.” Bakugou gives another exasperated sigh and snatches your pencil from you. “Look, you idiot. It’d be right if you hadn’t copied the problem wrong in the first place.” He shoves his way into your spaces, your senses overcome by the subtle scent of caramel. He circles the figure you had incorrect, then jabs at it with your eraser in the book. “See? Maybe learn to fucking read.” He drops your pencil on your book. Your face flushes and you take the pencil back with slightly shaky hands. Fuck. It only takes a couple of seconds to know that you are going to need to excuse yourself. He was too close, too mean. You drop your pencil on the book again and abruptly rise, taking off for the bathrooms. You don’t see, but Bakugou frowns as he watches you go. Luckily the library is nearly empty so you don’t run into anyone on your way to the bathroom. You push into the women’s room and immediately beeline to the first stall, shoving your way into it and slamming the door behind you. Fuck. Him calling you an idiot and insulting your reading level shouldn’t be hot. That’s fucking ridiculous. But it didn’t change the fact that you were soaked. You waste no time, not even bothering to take off your panties as you perch on the edge of the toilet seat. You just push them to the side and start to circle your clit, whimpering at the contact. You were already so close, your whimpers getting a little higher as your hips start to rock… You gasp as your orgasm hits you, letting out a small moan that you’re hoping won’t attract any attention, unable to help his name falling from your lips. Katsuki. Always Katsuki, never Bakugou. You take in a big gulp of air as you come down from your high, not wanting to get back up and go out there. But you have to, all of your stuff is out there. And you do still need to study. You clean yourself up and rise to head out to the sink, making sure you wash your hands thoroughly. You’re in a little better mood now, calmer. Sure you can handle whatever it is Bakugou is going to throw at you when you come back. You open the door and step out directly into a solid chest. You squeak in surprise and take a step back. Your eyes widen in horror. Standing there, fists clenched, was the man whose name you just cried out. “Bakugou, I-” “Don’t.” Shit. You want to fall through the floor. If you thought the expression on his face was intense before, it’s nothing compared to the look he’s giving you now. He brings his hand up and you half expect him to punch you, and honestly you probably deserve it, but instead he’s pushing you into the bathroom. Ah, doesn’t want people to see him beating you up, you guess. He shoves you into a wall, slamming his hands on either side of your head. He crowds in close and caramel fills your senses again. “Were you just fucking yourself?” You swallow as you look up at him, unable to answer. It’s pretty obvious that you were. His eyes narrow at the blush that fills your cheeks. “You get off on being talked to like that? I thought you were in here crying, I came to fucking say sorry, and here you are with your fingers jammed up into your cunt and moaning my name like a goddamn slut.” He was coming to apologize? Kirishima must really be rubbing off on him. You still don’t know what to say to him though, and just drop your eyes. “Get on your knees.” You jerk your head back so fast you nearly slam it into the tile wall. “U-uh, excuse me?” you manage to stammer out. Did you hear him wrong? His scowl slowly turns into a smirk though, and your heart stops as he leans in. “I said… get on your knees.” You swallow hard before sinking down. The way he has you pushed up against the wall makes you have to spread your knees apart to make room for his legs. Your eyes flick to the door. This is a public restroom, there’s no way to lock it from the inside. “Don’t look at the fucking door. Look at me.” Your eyes are drawn back up to look at Bakugou, and they widen as he reaches for the buckle of his belt. “Such a dirty bitch. You even had the audacity to call me by my given name.” The tone he’s using is sending a chill down your spine, biting your lip as he unbuttons his pants and reveals a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His pants are usually pretty baggy, but you can’t help but think how miraculous it is that they were able to hide the solid length you’re faced with now. He chuckles and wraps his hand around his hard cock. “I bet this’ll feel so much better than your fingers.” Fuck. It will, you know it will. And you want it so badly.

“Open your mouth, princess.” You do, eagerly sticking out your tongue. You’re dying to know what he tastes like. He smirks at your enthusiasm and pulls at his boxer briefs until they are low enough to bare his cock to your face. It’s bigger than average, a fact that you just know Bakugou is proud of. He grabs his dick by the base and levels the head with your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. He tastes salty, only the tiniest hint of sweet, but that might be because his hands are so close to your face. “I’m assuming you want me to be rough with you,” he says lowly. You nod as best as you can with an open mouth and a cock on your tongue. He grunts, starting to rock his hips gently and letting the head of his dic drag along your tongue. “Good. We use a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop. If you can’t talk, pinch me twice. If you call red or pinch me, we stop. No questions asked. Got it?” You’re a little surprised, but you nod again. Bakugou drops his free hand to your head, and your eyes flutter closed as his calloused hand strokes through your hair. Fingers tangling into the strands. “Close your mouth.” You look up at him, finally getting your wish of seeing how his face darkens when you wrap your lips around his hard cock. Then his fist tightens in your hair and his hips jerk forward. He starts a hard pace, the plush head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. He grunts as he fucks into your mouth, head rolling back for a second. You’re pleased to know that he finds your mouth to be that good. When he rolls his head back forward to look at you his eyes are somehow even darker. “Yeah, fuck, you take that cock so well. Look at you. You’re so fucking turned on by this. I bet you’re dying to touch yourself again, to get off while you’re choking on my cock.” Your eyes flutter and you moan around his length, which only causes him to pick up the pace. After a few thrusts he pulls out of your mouth, your eyes shifting to look at his face in confusion. He leans forward and spits directly into your open mouth, then straightens and rams his cock back in. You moan at the treatment, willing your throat to relax so that his next thrust slips into it. He growls out, yanking harder onto your hair before pulling out again. He uses your hair as leverage to pull you to your feet, then yanks you by the arm over to the sink before bending you over the counter. One of his hands presses hard into the middle of your back to keep you bent over. The other rubs at your dripping folds. The sudden contact makes you let out a mewl and arch your back, desperate for more. “Needy slut,” he mutters, deft fingers moving your panties to the side and plunging two fingers deep into your core. You cry out and immediately push your hips back into his hand. He curses and starts to curl his fingers inside you, alternating between stroking your walls and scissoring you open. He’s doing this to prepare to take him, and you know it. It doesn’t matter that it feels amazing to you, he has a goal in mind. He works you open with a single minded ferocity, stretching your walls until he’s sure you can take him. From this vantage point if you look up, you can see the reflection of Bakugou biting his lip as he watches your pussy sucking in his fingers. Your already completely fucked-out face, and he hasn’t even  gotten to the main event yet. You whimper as he pulls his fingers from your aching sex, but your eyes widen when he lewdly licks your fluids off of them. “Goddamn delicious,” he rumbles, meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wraps his hand around his cock again, rubbing his tip against your entrance. You make a high pitched noise in your throat and try to push back, but his hand keeps you where you are. “Color, princess.” You look at him through the mirror, confused for a moment until you foggily recall his speech. “G-green,” you gasp out, speaking for the first time since you started. “Fuck, Katsuki, green, please, please just fuck me.” You cry out as a sharp slap blooms pain across your ass accompanied by the familiar crackle of Bakugou’s quirk. “I didn’t say you could call me that,” he snarls out. “I’m sorry Sir,” you say timidly. You don’t miss the way his pupils dilate. Perfect, exactly what you hoped would happen. He slams into you with one hard thrust, pushing your hips into the counter top edge. You cry out loudly, sure by this point that if anyone was anywhere near the bathrooms they would hear you. You weren’t being anywhere near quiet, and Bakugou’s delicious mix of growls, grunts, and moans were not entirely quiet either. His hands roughly grab your hips and he pulls you back into him. He thrusts his hips forward and pulls you back with each thrust, fucking into you as hard as you hoped he would. Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. “Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ mess. You love this.” One of his hands releases your hip and he slaps it across your ass once more. This time no quirk, which was disappointing, but he was otherwise occupied. You moan at his words. Yes, you want to be good. You want him to want to do this again. The coil of heat is winding tighter in your belly with every thrust, and Bakugou can tell. He can feel your walls tightening around his length. He leans forward, as close as he can to your ear without losing his momentum. “That’s it princess, cum on my cock.” The words do you in and you cry out as the coil snaps, your walls clamping down on him. He slams into you one more time and releases as well, moaning as his head rolls back. He stays there for a few moments, pulsating as your walls flutter around him. “Fuck.” He sighs as he pulls out of you, leaving you bent over the counter. He shifts to the sink and cleans himself up quickly with some damp paper towels. You aren’t sure that you can move yet, your legs too shaky. He grabs more paper towels and dampening them, then walks back to you and starts to clean you up. “W-what-” “I’m not that big an asshole.” He sounds slightly annoyed, and your face flushes. Well how were you supposed to know that he’d be so tender after he just fucked the soul out of you? He shifts your panties back over to cover your sex, and flips your uniform skirt back down. “I’ll head back to the table first. You come after.” That made sense. You straighten up, still a little wobbly, and look at him. You nod your agreement. He stares at you for a few beats, then steps forward and gently takes your chin in his fingers. He brushes a soft kiss to your mouth, a surprised noise coming from your throat. He gives you a smug grin, then slips to the door. You lean against the counter, your fingertips brushing your lips. How… how had he just flipped your world upside down so easily? You take a few moments to compose yourself, straightening your uniform and fixing your hair, before you step back out in the library. “Hey, Y/N!” You blink at the sunshine smile of Kirishima Eijirou. “I thought these were your notes! You gonna study with us? Bakubro is great at Calculus!” Your eyes flick to the blonde, who is almost giving you a smile. “I’m great at a lot of things.” You have to say that you agree.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #mha imagine #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha imagine #dom bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dom!bakugou #my writing

[fernsplaysthings]

Another continuation of my YW x Crow fluff from here.

Definitely suggestive this time.

By the time Kestral had reached street level they were beginning to wonder if Roost was right and that this was an ill thought out idea. Yes, the conversation with the other two members of Fireteam Mayhem (and their nosey Ghosts) had been somewhat emotionally charged and had opened the floodgates on a rush of feelings that they weren’t exactly ready to approach in a measured way but they still felt the need to try and…

Kestral didn’t even know what they were going to say to him when they eventually found themself at the H.E.L.M. Not even just what words to use. They hadn’t exactly worked out what they were trying to convey. What needed addressing. Everything was fine as it was, right? They hadn’t felt as connected with another person as they did with Crow. Not since Artemis and Salome and that was lifetimes ago. He tugged on their heartstrings in all the best ways. They cared for him in ways that made their chest ache, their stomach flutter, and their brain go fuzzy.

Again, Roost wasn’t exactly incorrect when he’d suggested that perhaps those feelings ran a little deeper and in a different direction to how Kestral expressed them out loud but they couldn’t see themself throwing out the ‘L word’ on a whim either.

With enough drink they knew it could be a possibility that it’d just slip out by accident and ruin a perfectly good thing, but that could be avoided.

Did that mean it was true if they were more likely to say it while drunk?

Realising they’d now walked several times around the block to burn off their nervous butterflies and straighten out their thoughts Kestral stopped, hating the direction their mind had headed, and looked up towards the Tower. There would never be a good reason to keep guessing and speculating on these things while the solution was right there. Even if some of the fear was because somewhere deep down they were afraid of rejection. Even if a lot of the fear was because they knew that there’d always be the possibility they could hurt Crow in so many ways without even meaning to.

A little voice in the back of their head reminded them that they could trust the other Hunter with anything, this included, and that was exactly what they needed to get their feet working again to push them towards the Tower.

-----

Without their armour and weapons to hand, Kestral felt out of place in the H.E.L.M. It was a weird sense of vulnerability to walk through a place dedicated to battle, survival and strategy as a civilian when they’d usually be one of the larger presences at the wartable. Vulnerability was exactly why they were here though, and while admittedly of a different kind it did seem appropriate in a round and about way.

As expected Crow was in his shadowed alcove at the back of the main hall, perched on the bench nearby with Glint at his side chattering away brightly.

The sight brought a goofy grin to Kestral’s face as they approached, widening even more as the other Hunter looked up at the sound of footsteps and cleared the space between them in a couple of strides. Although he tried to hold back, to seem cool and collected as he stood before them, the softest look of adoration made itself clear on his face when he noted the other’s smile.

“You’re in a good mood,” chirped Glint, popping himself between the pair and looking from one to the other.

Crow pushed back his hood and rubbed at his neck, taming his expression enough that Glint probably wouldn’t tease him about it later, “It’s...nice to see you smiling.”

Their heart did something messy and fluffy at his awkwardness and for a moment that fuzzy feeling took over their thoughts enough to give them pause and cause Glint to take a longer, more concerned look at them.

“Sorry, just wanted to swing by and see you guys.”

“We’re glad you did! Aren’t we Crow?”

He’d gathered himself enough to nod, “Actually I was going to talk to you later anyway. Zavala’s got me doing some recon stuff.”

The fuzzy feeling subsided rapidly and their heart dropped, “Oh. Anything interesting?”

He shrugged, “I’m not really allowed to share the details. I’ll be off-world for a while though.”

It really shouldn’t have bothered them as much as it did. They were off on other planets and moons all the time and it’d never bothered them before. Not that they didn’t miss him before they got back or think about him during the quieter times but still…

“That’ll be Zavala’s way of looking out for you,” they sighed, that vulnerability seeping in deeper, making them want to tug their hoodie around them and hide, “It’ll be some good experience. Doing a bit of field work for the Vanguard and all that.”

Something about their body language had obviously given away their unease to the other Hunter even though they’d thought they’d hidden it particularly well. His gloved knuckles brushed over their cheek, pushing back the stray hair beside their face, fingertips running down their neck to rest his palm against their shoulder.

Despite the heaviness in their chest, the gesture still sparked a shiver across their skin.

“I didn’t want to head off without letting you know,” he added softly, “I know you do this all the time so it’s probably no big deal and...am I being stupid?”

Kestral’s chuckle was one of relief. It didn’t make up for the time they’d be apart - ugh, when did they get this sentimental? - but it was reassuring to know he felt similarly. They moved closer, looped their arms around his waist and looked up to meet him face to face. Crow rested his own arms over their shoulders, around their neck, instinctively returning the hold so he could lean down and press a chaste kiss to their lips.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

They laughed more confidently this time, “You’re not being stupid. I’ll miss you too. Always do.”

A mingling of concern and affection crossed his features and he pulled them in again to plant a firmer kiss against their forehead, only to tuck their head beneath his chin so he could rest his lips against their hair. It was sappy but there was something about being wrapped up in Crow, warm and safe, that put them at ease in a way they never thought they’d feel. It wasn’t often that the fabled Young Wolf felt protected, vulnerability be damned.

“Maybe we can spend some time together before you go?”

Eyes meeting again, Crow smiled, “You have something in mind?”

Kestral hesitated. No. No they didn’t. How did this work? What if it wasn’t fancy enough. What if it was too impersonal? Did they need to impress him?

“Wanna get takeout and spend an evening at mine watching movies?”

Oh no that was the worst idea. He was definitely going to…

“A quiet evening in, hm? I’d love to. I’ll bring snacks.”

Perhaps it was the heat that had engulfed their face or they way their heart was now light and fluttering but without thinking they stumbled over their tongue, words falling out, “You could stay the night too if you wanted…”

“Ooh.”

Glint’s teasing sound startled the pair, both realising that the Ghost hadn’t actually gone anywhere and the poor guy was front and centre to their awkward sappiness. Kestral’s opinion changed from ‘poor guy’ to ‘almost as bad as Roost’ when his shell flickered and his holographic eye morphed from smug to a cheeky wink. Crow didn’t seem to think too much of it, probably used to his Ghost by now, and rolled his eyes before settling his sights back on the Hunter in his arms.

“I’ll bring some snacks and a toothbrush then.”

-----

A movie and a half in Kestral started to wonder why they’d been so nervous about spending some time alone with Crow. Their takeout, a very large, very cheesy pizza, had arrived just as they’d started their first movie and Crow had made short work of scarfing back a healthy number of slices while immersed in some equally cheesy action flick Kestral had pulled out. They’d eventually settled back into each other, Crow reclined across the sofa with the smaller Hunter, their back to his chest, comfortably laid back between his legs. 

Somewhere during the second movie, something slower and a little more sappy, his hand had come to rest on Kestral’s bare stomach. A warm weight on warm skin but they’d still shivered when his fingers found the raised silvery line of a scar and traced it idly until Kestral eventually placed their hand over his to still it.

“Ok, that tickles.”

He laughed under his breath, sliding his palm upwards and feeling for other scars, “Do they all tickle? Or is this one just...new?”

“Not gunna lie, I don’t really remember. You get so many scars by being a Guardian.”

“Can I see them?”

Kestral paused, eyebrows raised in amusement, turning just enough to catch a glimpse of Crow’s face, “Excuse you. Are you asking me to undress?”

A deep purple flush rapidly covered the Awoken’s face even on noticing the playful smirk that the other Hunter was wearing openly. They’d turned further in his lap, lying chest to chest and looking up at him expectantly.

“I…” he swallowed hard, “I mean yes. I guess I am...If you want to.”

Kestral’s smirk turned shy, “You know you can’t unsee this if I do?”

“The only reason…” he leaned down, pressed a sweet lingering kiss to their lips, “That I’d want to unsee anything about you…” Kestral pressed up closer, deepening the kiss between his words, “Is so that I could see it again for the first time.”

He’d barely finished his sentence when Kestral had let out a soft breath, a slight hint of a whine, and snaked their arms up around his neck to tangle their hands in his hair, to kiss him with all the affection and warmth that his ridiculously romantic sentiment had sparked in them. Crow briefly forgot all about the scars and undressing and the shy awkwardness, and focused on not becoming completely overwhelmed by the flood of sensations. Heated lips, the gentle tug on his hair, sharing breath, the long line of contact between their bodies…

Gently cupping Kestral’s face he pulled back reluctantly, “Sec…”

“Was that OK?”

He grinned dreamily, running his thumbs over their reddened cheeks taking in the sight of saliva wet lips and eyes that seemed darker with their dilated pupils, “Yeah. ‘OK’ doesn’t cover it, actually. It was great. Really great, and we should definitely continue but…” he shuffled to sit up straighter across the sofa noticing Kestral’s attention drop downwards and a wolfish grin spring across their features when it returned to him, “That. And I’m not sure if I’ve done - I don’t remember if I’ve done this before and I’m not sure if that’s going to make it weird for you…”

“It’s not weird for me,” they replied quickly, “Crow it’s been ages since someone’s seen me as something other than a ferocious god slayer and too legendary for something as human as...as…” their mind reeled with words, the one they refused to say, ones too impersonal, some that just weren’t enough, “...as connection. As emotional and physical affection. Even before that. This though. I like this, even with all the weird bits. Especially the weird bits. I like you too. Kind of a lot.”

The Awoken simply stared at them with the most open look of adoration they were pretty sure they’d ever seen, completely silent.

“Shit. Too sappy?”

His response was to move his hands down around their waist, tug them to straddle his lap and kiss softly from their lips to their neck, smiling against their collarbone.

“It was very sappy. And I think, if we’re on the same train of thought, we should think about relocating to uh…” he looked up to see Kestral’s barely restrained smile, “To somewhere with a bit more space.”

“Bed?”

The second they said it, Crow lifted them, their legs wrapped around his waist, “I wasn’t going to say that but since you’ve suggested it…”

“Crow, you ass.”

“Bed it is.”

-----

Lola had seen some shit in her life but walking in to her friend’s apartment to see said friend, half naked in a shirt that did not belong to them, perched on the kitchen counter with a man that looked remarkably like the Prince of the Reef - not him anymore, it was Crow now - also half naked between their legs having an intimate conversation…

Well, it topped the list of things that made her lost for words.

It was only when the front door slammed behind her that the couple looked up, Kestral like a deer in headlights and Crow looking very proud of himself, that they noticed they had an unexpected visitor.

It took Lazarus launching himself into the side of Salome’s head to snap her back into the present, dazing himself in the process.

“Uh. Shit, Lola this is Crow. Crow, this is Salome, a good friend and part of my fireteam. This is a bad time, maybe you can…”

“Am I gunna have to start knocking?”

Kestral blinked a few times, “I...would like that. Yes, please do.”

“I cannot believe this is being turned into an actual love nest. Last thing I need seared into my brain is the image of my fireteam leader getting railed on the sofa.”

“Lola!”

“It wasn’t the sofa.”

Kestral’s head snapped back to Crow, face cheeks and ears all a deep red and slowly creeping onto their chest, “Don’t.”

Lola’s cackle drew their attention back again, “Ok, he can stay. I’ll catch up with you both when you’re not all loved up and shit.”

“Might be waiting a while,” muttered Crow, turning his gaze back to the other Hunter and running his knuckles lightly over their cheek.

Lola loudly faked some retching sounds as she left, slamming the door behind her.

#young wolf x crow #guardian x crow #kestral //

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 15

Day 15 - It is impossible to lie to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic Loceit, Romantic Prinxiety, Romantic Intruality

TWs: swearing [like, twice at most]

--

Logan found himself in a bit of a conundrum. 

He watched the other sides bicker and argue among themselves - what else was new? - while Thomas tried to calm things down. In truth, Logan had no idea why Thomas had bought the damn trinket, it was likely a scam anyway.

The item in queston was a small, relatively unobtrusive enamel pin that, according to the informative leaflet that came with it, emitted a ‘subtle aura’ that would prevent the wearer from lying to their soulmate. Logan was skeptical to say the least, but Roman, ever the romantic, had insisted Thomas buy it in order to weed out the lucky prince of his dreams. Of course, the pin had no effect in reality, but because Thomas believed it so, the effect on his sides was interesting.

“I can’t believe you wasted ten dollars on that garbage.”, Virgil scoffed, perched on the stairs as always. 

“Oh, come on Virge!”, Thomas tapped the pin fondly, “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s a cute design, right?”

“Wow. A red heart. Yes. Totally original. I can feel the no doubt months of work that went into designing it.”

“....Sarcasm really isn’t a great look on you, y’know.“ Thomas muttered, feeling dejected.

Roman piped up to his defense, “It’s a classic design, Bring Me The Depression! Sure, it may be a little plain, but classics are classics for a reason!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever, you just like it because you’re a sentimental dork.”

“And what if I am?! Better than being such a Robert Downer Jr!!”, Roman huffed, “You are one killjoy who should make far less noise.”

Before Patton or Thomas could butt in, Virgil murmured, “God, I love it when you make those references just for me-”

The anxious side slapped a hand over his mouth instantly. His eyes widened in horror at what he’d just said as the others all turned to stare at him. Roman especially.

“.... You do?”, the Prince bashfully inquired. 

Virgil uncovered his mouth, clearly about to try and cover his tracks when, “Of course I do, I love that you put so much thought into it for my sake!”

Once again, he clapped a hand back over his mouth.

Logan wasn’t sure how to take the topic away from this whole soulmates mess to spare his fellow left brain boy further embarrassment; they were aspects of Thomas’ mind, they didn’t even HAVE souls, not that Logan believed they existed. Power of suggestion is an uncanny force it seems. The logical conclusion was that they were merely acting upon feelings already harboured. 

The logical side had to admit, he really hadn’t seen this coming.

“.... Virgil,”, Roman began nervously, Logan realising he must’ve come to the same conclusion somehow, “What colour is my sash?”

The emo squinted at him curiously, “Red? Duh.”

“What color is the sky?”

“Depends on the time of day.”

“Best soda flavour?”

“Grape-”

“How much do you like me?”

“With all my heart-”

Virgil hauled his hood over his head and eyes, “Thomas turn that goddamn thing off RIGHT now-!!”

“No, no, this is way too much fun-!”, Roman began.

Virgil glared at him, his tempest tongue echoing with the weight of his anxiety, “Do you have a death wish, Princey!?”

“Yes if it means you’ll keep yelling at me in that tone of voice-”

Now it was Roman’s turn to look mortified. His eyes nervously darted from Thomas and Patton’s looks of excited adoration, and Logan’s look of sheer and utter “I am so done with this”. The prince swallowed anxiously, looking to Virgil who seemed to be just as nervous as he finally took the chance to sink out.

“Wait, Virgil! Don’t- Aw shoot! Just as you two were finally telling each other how you feel!!”, Patton lamented.

“Padre, you traitor!”, Roman huffed, crossing his arms as he sunk out. Logan theorised it was just an excuse to go after Virgil. Just then, a cackling voice erupted from behind the TV,

“Who knew Emo In Grouchland was so sweet on Roman? Shit taste!”, Remus snickered, vaulting over the TV and taking his spot with glee. Thomas sighed, “How long have you been listening in, Remus?”.

The duke grinned, “Oh, I’ve been here the whole time! I was waiting for a good moment to skewer Roman with this little gift I got him, but the conversation got soooooo juicy I couldn’t resist listening in!”. He brandished a serrated edged sword that looked positively lethal and extremely painful. Patton and Thomas both winced while Logan readied himself to step in should he be needed.

“On that note, Pattycakes, how come you keep losing the gifts I send you?!”, Remus piped up disappointedly, “I put so much work into them, but all you ever tell me when I ask you is that you ever get them!”

Thomas and Logan met Patton with immediate looks of intrigue while the father figure figment looked figuratively flushed. He avoided answering Remus directly, lying to Thomas, “I-! I dunno what he’s talking about, kiddo-”

“What is it our dear brainiac says?”, came a familiar smooth voice, “Ah yes. Deception!”

Logan shuffled to the side to let Janus have some room, “Actually, it’s Falsehood.”

“Whatever, sure.”, Janus waved a hand dismissively. He was more focused on the source that summoned him, tsk-ing at Patton, “All this truth being spouted and yet the one lying hard enough to summon me is our dear Morality. Colour me surprised.”

Patton avoided meeting Janus’ gaze, “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Patton, did you just try to lie to my face?”, Janus chided, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

The moral side bit his lip nervously, pointedly avoiding Remus. Unfortunately, Remus wasn’t about to let that slide,

“Yeah, Pat, what the fuck!”

“I’m nervous, obviously-!”, Pat cupped his hands in front of his mouth, inadvertently letting Remus know he wasn’t able to lie to him. 

“So where DO my gifts go off to, Pattycakes?”, he asked expecting the garbage or a wood chipper.

“I keep them, obviously!”, Patton blurted, his embarrassment growing.

Remus clearly hadn’t expected that, asking before he even had the chance to reconsider; “Why?”

The moral side figured he might as well come clean considering their current situation,

“Because I love them! They’re gross and a little scary sometimes, but they make me feel wanted around here whenever I’m sad!”, he admitted, tugging on his cardigan sleeves, “They make me feel….loved...”

Remus looked just as stunned as the others, but that expression melted into a toothy grin quickly enough as Remus scooped Patton into his arms in a bridal style hold, “See you nerds later, I have the cutest bitch in the mindscape to sloppily make out with!”

Before anyone could stop him, not that they probably wanted to, Remus sunk out with Patton clinging to him tightly.

“..... On that interesting note, I think I’m gonna go grab a snack.”, Thomas mused, already headed to the kitchen when Janus sighed, “I do hope this insufferable truth telling ends. I enjoy illuminating the lies you all spout but if there’s none to highlight, then I’ll be out of a job.”

Logan shook his head, “That’s incorrect, you also embody Thomas’ self preservation meaning you handle far more than lies, but more importantly, if you were ‘out of a job’ then you would simply cease to exist, which would not be beneficial to Thomas’ safety and wellbeing.”

Janus rolled his eyes and leant against the arm of the L sofa. “Are you always this sweet when you’re correcting someone’s use of hyperbole?”

“I was not being sweet, I fail to see how-”

“I was just teasing you, Logan.”, Janus smirked, getting comfy, “But if I’m being honest, which I very much am, it’s nice to be appreciated around here.”

Logan furrowed his brow, “Do you generally feel unappreciated Janus?”

Even Janus wasn’t immune to the effects of the psyche either, “Yes-”

He caught himself and cast a worried look toward Logan. Thankfully, the logical side may be intelligent, but he sure wasn’t smart enough to read Janus’ gesture properly.

“Are you alright, Janus?”

“No.”, Janus uttered, unable to suppress the truth.

A flash of concern that etched itself into Logan’s face gave Janus some hope that perhaps his feelings might be returned; it was always harder to read Logan, about all Janus knew was that he did in fact have feelings despite his protests. But those exact feelings? He’d be damned if he could figure any of them out.

“May I be of some assistance then?”, Logan offered, sitting on the sofa seat that placed him next to Janus while the latter remained on the arm of the sofa.

“... I’m not sure.”, the lying side hated how uncertain the truth tasted, “But I would like to try something, if I may, Logan?”

Logan frowned in uncertainty, “...As long as it will bring no bodily harm, I am willing to try anything.”

Oh god, is he really doing this? Yes, apparently. Janus brought his left hand to gently ghost over Logan’s cheek, 

“May I kiss you, Logan?”

Ugh, Deceit loathed the crack in his voice, but before he could apologise and let Logan off the hook, the logical side replied, 

“Please do.”, Logan’s eyes remained locked on Janus’.

The serpentine side didn’t need to be told twice. Janus softly tilted Logan’s face towards him, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. It was soft, fleeting but with an obvious taste of longing. They both let out a content sigh n unison as Janus pulled back, 

“I’ve already asked too much but-”

Logan cut him off, already giving a fond smirk, “It’s alright. I will have Thomas ‘lose’ the pin in the garbage. Your work will be unimpeded, Janus.”

“Perfect. I believe you deserve a reward.”, Janus chuckled as the two went in to kiss once more..

----

Short ‘n’ sweet this time!

Just some gay disaster sides who can’t lie, ehe.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom

#loceit #intruality #prinxiety #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my fics #soulmate september #roman #virgil #logan #patton #janus #remus #thomas

[bisluthq]

Joshlie in California, 2012

She’s been worried about this ever since she agreed to the trip. Not because she isn’t ready - look she’s been ready for the last two or so years, really, there just hasn’t been anyone - but because she’s worried she’s going to do it wrong somehow. She spent most of the day before they left on the phone with Jourdan, trying to get her best tips and advice, and Jourdan just kept drawling, “Doll, you’ll be fine, he’s just going to be happy he’s finally getting any.”

“What do you mean finally, do you think he’s upset about how long we’ve taken?” she’d asked.

“No, doll, I mean that he’s just going to be happy he’s getting ass.”

“I… do have a nice ass.”

“You do.”

“But you’re sure there’s nothing I’m going to do wrong?”

And this type of conversation had gone round in circles until Jourdan had told her she’s busy. Karlie wasn’t sure that Jourdan was, in fact, busy at all - it was probably just a way to brush her off - but by that stage there was little more she could do.

And then he was picking her up, and then they were on the plane, and everything was charming and easy like it always is with him. And then were going out to Kevin’s house. And Kevin was lovely, really welcoming. So kind. Karlie offered to help in the kitchen, and listened politely as the boys talked tech, and made a few jokes which she thought they’d liked.

But now they’re in their room. Their shared room. And she’s worried, and realising that the worry from the last few days never evaporated, it had just been buried by all the chatting and eating and whatnot.

“You okay?” he asks, emerging from the bathroom.

She realises she’s been seated on the edge of the bed, staring into her little travel bag, recounting to herself the story of the Jourdan phone calls and her social successes with Kevin, and looks up. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you like Kevin?”

“He’s lovely.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“Why wouldn’t he, baby, you’re amazing.”

He perches down next to her and leans in for a kiss, and she almost loses sight of the worries, but then she remembers again and blurts out, “I think we should have sex.”

Josh is quiet for a second and then says, “I mean I’d hoped we would, you know, with this trip-”

“I haven’t done it before. That’s why I’ve been so… so like this. I haven’t done it before.”

“What?”

She scrunches up her eyes tightly and wills herself to disappear, but she knows that won’t happen so she repeats, lamely, “I haven’t done it before, Joshua.”

He lets out a sigh and chuckles, “So that’s why you didn’t want to come round to mine at all for the last… two months?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were playing some kind of game with me, babe, like trying to make sure I’m not just into you for your body.”

“Well Derek told me not to sleep with you on the first three dates,” she admits, and then scrunches up here eyes again, “And then I didn’t know how to tell you so I’ve just sort of put it off.”

“You really have babe,” he chuckles again, and she feels herself blushing.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing at how much time I’ve wasted analysing your behaviour with the incorrect fucking data points entered.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean if I’d known you were just worried about it I wouldn’t have like… thought what was missing was a big cross-coastal trip and a romantic view of the ocean.”

“The ocean is nice.”

“Well, obviously, but my apartment is also very nice.”

“We can go there when we’re back home.”

“We can.”

“Are you okay with this?” she asks, looking up at him, “I’m… I should’ve said something, but I didn’t know how to, and I think people just assume I have and I don’t-”

“Of course I’m okay with it.”

“Really?”

“Look, I won’t lie, it’s unexpected,” he reaches for her hand, “But it’s not like I was under the false impression you had an army of ex-boyfriends at your door, so it’s not like… an issue.”

“I’ve kissed before, so that wasn’t that bad.”

“That bad?” “I mean you weren’t my first kiss, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Karlie, I’m not worried about anything about this.” He pauses and, realising that she’s not feeling as lighthearted as he is, adds, “You weren’t my first kiss either.”

“I know that.”

He leans in to kiss her again, “But you’re the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t mean that,” she says, but she hopes he does and it pleases her.

“Absolutely do mean that,” he kisses her again and she giggles against his mouth.

“Well you’re the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

“I’m also about to be the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

“Josh!” she giggles again, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I promise you I’m not trying to, I just… I honestly haven’t done it in this setup since I was like fifteen, so as much as I’m not worried I’m sort of regressing to my camp self.”

“You lost your virginity at camp?”

“Yeah, the boys’ camp and the girls’ camps were separated but there was a hole in the fence and we used to go meet up. This girl Malka was… very advanced.”

“You lost your virginity to go a girl called Malka?”

“Malka Eichenberger, from Whippany.”

“Was she pretty?”

“No.”

“Josh!” “She really wasn’t, though. That wasn’t the appeal of Malka. The appeal of Malka was that she was a year older than me and had lost her virginity the previous year. So the demand for Malka’s attention that summer was pretty high because she supposedly knew what she was doing.”

“And you started dating her?”

“Fuck no, but I was super tall so she was down to meet up with me and one thing lead to another.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“She’s married now. I think she’s super frum and has like four kids. Which, now that I think about it, isn’t actually that surprising because she clearly loved sex a lot.”

“Josh!” He chuckles, “Don’t Josh me! It’s true! It’s how babies are made.”

“It’s just a nasty thing to say.”

“What, that Malka Eichenberger - or whatever the frummy husband’s name is - from Whippany loves dick and that’s how she’s produced four kids well before the age of thirty?”

“Maybe she loves her husband and just wants to have lots of kids.” “Sure, but again, knowing Malka it’s probably also the activities that lead to the creation of the kids.”

“You don’t know Malka, you only knew her when you were kids.”

“You think she’s gotten less horny? The four kids beg to differ.”

“I don’t know,” she giggles, “I just know I’d hate to have someone discussing me like this ten years later.”

“Well did you sleep with like five boys at summer camp?”

“I didn't go to summer camp, really, I was working pretty nonstop since I was thirteen.”

“Then nobody’s discussing you this way.”

“Did she actually know what she was doing?”

“Malka?”

“Yes.”

“In hindsight no, but she was very committed to the whole thing and used to take her retainer out for blowjobs.”

“She wore a retainer?”

“Karlie, I told you she wasn’t hot.”

She chuckles again, and looks up a little coquettishly, “Do you think I am?”

“You know you are.”

“But do you think I am?”

“I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever been with.”

“If we’re comparing me to girls who have to take their retainers out to blow you that’s not a high bar.”

“Okay, then you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever sustained a conversation with.”

She kisses him, fully, her hand running through his hair, “I’ll accept that.”

He kisses back, softly at first and then with increasing intensity, his tongue finding its way into her mouth. Then, softly, he pushes her back onto the bed, kicking his shoes off as he does so. She’s wearing a long sundress and no bra, he’d noticed that earlier in the day, and a surge of excitement works through him as he imagines putting one of her tits in his mouth. No one has done it before, he thinks, and he hates himself for how excited that makes him. He’s not being gross, he thinks - he didn’t know this about her. He maybe wouldn’t have asked her out if he’d known. But he’s here now, and she’s gorgeous and funny and smart and so kind and sweet and… fucking his.

His hand slides under the dress, roaming along her firm thighs towards the thin fabric of her panties. He pushes them to the side slightly, lips still connecting with hers, and begins to look for her clit, fingers traversing her slick slit. She lets out a little gasp as he finds it, and he begins a small circular motion. “Do you like this?” he asks, craving the fucking validation the way he always does when he’s with a new woman but… more, he realises, because he really wants to make sure she thinks this is perfect.

“I do,” she murmurs, hands tangled in his hair, lips looking for his, “I really do.”

He continues the motion, as his other hand slides further under the dress and to her tit, pinching her nipple softly. She gasps again. Circles, then up and down, then circles again. He’s speeding up now as she gets closer, her hand locking around his arm, her lips finally leaving his and teeth biting down on her lower lip. “Josh…” she mutters, the heat building in her stomach, and as she cums she lets out a little sigh of satisfaction.

He climbs off her and pulls his shirt off, then removes his pants and socks, while she fumbles to get her dress and panties onto the floor. “Have you ever done that before?” he asks, even though the way she’d responded to his touch tells him the answer.

“No,” she replies, and smiles shyly, “But I’d like to do it again sometime.”

He’s fucking hard as he puts the condom on, and it’s as he’s doing so that her eyes widen slightly, “You’re really… big.”

“I wouldn’t say really, but I’ve never gotten complaints.”

“I mean I’ve seen some at work and you’re… big.”

He pauses before getting back on the bed, “If you’d rather not I-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I want to.”

She lies back onto the pillows, parting her legs for him. He kisses her again, runs his fingers over her cunt, and then, slowly pushes in. She flinches, and he pauses again, “Baby we don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine,” she says, kissing him once more, “It’s fine, I want to.”

He pushes in further and almost groans at the tightness. Her legs wrap around him as he starts slowly thrusting. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, and she nods tightly in response. Slowly, in and out, trying as far as he can not to hurt her. She responds to him, he notes, her hands once more burrowing into his hair, her long toned legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “Hang on a second,” he says, pulling a few of the pillows over to place under her ass, propping her up towards him for a better angle. She moans a little when he enters her again, and he grins. “You like this?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you baby,” he says, and he speeds up a little. She gasps again, and he has the urge to fuck her harder, if those are the kinds of noises she’s going to make, but he stops himself and keeps the speed steady. Her hands leave his hair and work their way down his back, finally settling on his ass, and she arches her back slightly, mumbling something again as he finally explodes.

“I love you too,” she says, as he slides out of her and lies down alongside, “You said it first and I want you to know I love you too.”

“Did you like that?” he asks, too caught up in needing that to focus on what she’s saying.

“Joshua, I just told you I love you. Of course I liked that.”

He smiles, pleased with the response, and offers up, “You should go pee baby, otherwise you can get a UTI.”

“Joshua!”

“No, it’s true, I had this ex-girlfriend who was dead set against peeing after sex because she thought it was unsexy or something and we could basically never fuck because she was always struggling with a UTI, so-”

“I don’t know why you’ve chosen tonight of all nights to keep telling me about the other women you’ve had.”

“I’m trying to offer helpful advice, baby.”

“I know about UTIs, I was a virgin, not an idiot.”

“I never said you’re an idiot, I’m just trying to offer sage wisdom I learned from my exes.”

“I don’t need advice from your exes, Josh.”

He gets up, removing the condom and tying it up before disposing of it and putting his boxers on. She’s still on the bed, naked, when he returns. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Karlie, I really was just trying to give a tip.”

“It didn’t feel that way. You’ve brought up two ex-girlfriends out of nowhere tonight, and I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking about you and your cool Jewish East Coast girls.”

“I wouldn’t call Malka Eichnberger cool, Kar.”

“You know exactly what I mean. I don’t like thinking about how very much not your type I apparently am.”

“Karlie, you’re exactly my type.”

“How?” she sits up and frowns, “I’m not Jewish, my family doesn’t have money, I’m not in college, and I’m not even a good lay.”

“Where did you get that last idea?”

“So you’re not disputing anything else?”

“Well you’re… not Jewish, and you’re not in college, and as I understand it your family aren’t poor but they’re not, um, whatever. What I’m struggling to understand is where you’re getting that you’re a poor lay.”

“You didn’t seem to enjoy it.”

“What?”

“I mean, I just expected you to enjoy it more.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Sure, but I thought you’d like it more.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “I liked it a lot.”

“You didn’t really make any noises or anything,” she replies. “Like if you were enjoying it I’d assume you’d make more noises.”

“Are you basing this off like a porno or what?”

“I’m just saying it’s not how I imagined it.”

“Do you want to go again?”

She looks a bit taken aback at that, “Right now?”

Josh nods, “I mean if the issue is I wasn’t enjoying myself enough I’m willing to go again, and I’m willing to be fucking rougher if that’s what you want.”

“Rougher?”

“I mean if you want me to be grunting and shit then I’m going to have to properly fuck you.”

A blush is followed by a giggle, and then she meets his gaze, “Fine. Do it.”

“Come here.”

She frowns, “I’m on the bed, Josh.”

“Yeah, come here.”

Karlie gets off the bed and moves towards him, somewhat laconically. His arm wraps around her waist and he pulls her closer, lips hard on hers, his mouth then traveling along her neck, nibbling as he does so. His hand seeks out her cunt, still wet, and he slides two fingers in, and then a third, pulling her closer as he does so, moving his hand roughly. She moans a little, and her hands tug at his boxers, pulling them down again. Her fingers wrap around his cock, and she clumsily moves her hand up and down in what he has to admit is the worst hand job he’s ever received (including Rachel Silver from the year after Malka Eichenberger, and Rachel Silver fully came out as a lesbian a short while after so her half hearted attempts at pleasing him weren’t exactly out of character in hindsight). “Don’t do that,” he says, in part to get himself to stop thinking about Rachel Silver who - to be fair - he wishes nothing but the best for. And look, she was very fucking pretty, he thinks, and then decides that’s a terrible thought to have had near Karlie considering their earlier conversation and berates himself for it briefly.

“Why not?” she asks.

Unable to explain to her that she’s… bad at what she’s doing and therefore reminding him of Rachel Silver’s very pretty but deeply gay ass, he responds in action. He pushes her towards the desk moving aside his own laptop and the artsy junk Kevin decorated this guest bedroom with, and propping her onto the desk.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks.

“No.”

“Hang on a second.” He finds another condom and rolls it on, and then he's thrusting into her again, harder this time, moving quickly, his hands roaming her body, pinching her nipples again, teeth grazing at her neck. He moves his hands under her ass to get an even deeper angle, pushing her over as he does so and she grabs for the desk edges. The sound of their bodies moving and their respective moans fill the room, and then he’s done and she’s looking up at him with fucking exultation in her eyes.

“Now that time I could see you enjoyed it,” she says, pushing him away, “I’m gonna go pee, or whatever it is your ex-girlfriends think I should do.”

#nat talks joshlie #nat shares her ~creative writing #nat shares her ~creative writing~ #there you go you weirdos

[miraculous-mare]

Firsts - Maribat March Day 1

I know I’m super late but this month is a mess for me. I’m doing my best to catch up, promise. This is a cute yet slightly angsty Marinette x Conner fit based on a text post by @incorrect-maribat. Friends to lovers and a ton of mutual pining.  I’ll link the post in the morning as I can’t find it now. 

@maribat-archive @maribat-march2020 

Warning: Alcohol consumption

***

It is statistically proven that, if one was to rank people’s attractiveness on an integer-based, numerical scale, the average score Marinette Dupain Cheng would receive from everyone on Planet Earth (and other planets, in both this and other dimensions), would be a 1000. Out of ten. 

Of course, this number is heavily skewed: Marinette, who considers herself to be a zero, is an outlier and should not be counted. 

Unfortunately (that is, for all real life applications of this metaphor) Marinette’s opinion of Marinette is the only one that does count. 

Which, Conner thinks, is why she is currently sitting on his kitchen counter after another failed date, clutching a near-empty bottle of wine in her hand and explaining to him, in great and undoubtedly false detail, exactly how unloveable she is. 

“But Mari,” he whines, not for the first time that night. “You can’t actually believe any of that crap. You’re gorgeous, incredibly talented, and I’ve seen you yeet super-powered aliens straight into walls! What’s not to love?”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s just…” she frowns and taps her fingers on the counter, as if trying to find the words. Conner notes that as the night goes on, and the bottle in her hand empties, her ramblings become less self-deprecating and more amusing. He wonders when the ladybug instincts will knock her out and he’ll have to carry her to bed, and thinks about having to sleep on the couch again.

Suddenly, Marinette sits straight up, almost knocking her head into the cabinet behind her. She brings her empty hand in front of her and waves it erratically, as of grasping for something invisible. 

“I got it! See, it’s like this.” Her sentences are heavily punctuated, and she fixes Conner with a heavy stare. “Objectively, I’m not that bad, it’s just that no one is into me. It’s like, I’m a snack, but no one is hungry!” At that last declaration she sits back, a wide smile lighting up her face. Conner can’t help but think of how beautiful she looks, perched wine-drunk in his apartment in the dead of night acting like she’d just dispensed priceless wisdom upon him. 

“Well, I for one am fucking starving,” he whispers under his breath, then quickly clamps a hand over his mouth. She can’t have heard that, he thinks, feeling his cheeks turning bright red. But when he dares to look up at her he sees her staring back at him, brows furrowed and face scrunched up. “No- Mari, I’m sorry, I was just kidding— hey, are you crying?”

She shook her head and took another swig from her wine bottle, but he could see the tears streaming down her face. In a flash, he was standing in front of her, pulling the bottle away from her face and cradling her arms in his. Shit. Conner hated watching Marinette cry, hated to see her reduced to a blubbering mess of blotched cheeks tears, hated to be responsible for it. “I’m so sorry Mari, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I- please tell me how to make it better.” 

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she closes her eyes, trying to regain control. Conner can feel her body shake under his hands and has to resist the urge to pull her into a hug. She probably hates you right now, he thinks. What were you thinking? You can’t just hit on a girl when she’s vulnerable like that! He is about to launch into a fresh tirade of I’m sorry’s when she finally looks up, blue eyes watery. He expects her to yell at him. To pull him away from her and storm out of his apartment. He does not expect her to pull her arm back and slap him harshly on the chest. Superboy, invulnerable as he is, still flinches at the sudden contact.

“You can’t just say stuff like that Conner! It-it’s not fair.” She is sobbing again, her hand grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and her face buried in his chest. He stood frozen, stuck with his arms on either side of her, desperately wanting to wrap them around her but afraid she wouldn’t want him to. “Look, it’s just, I can never tell if you're kidding or not. One moment it’s like, you might actually be into me and the next you’re calling me your best friend again. And I know I’m  gonna wake up tomorrow and be super embarrassed for having this conversation with you but you know what? I really like you! And I… I really like this wine. This is really good wine.” At that, she pulls him closer and collapses into him, her body slumping into his. Slowly, Conner lets his arms find their way to her waist and wrap around her.

“Hey, Mari. I like you too, yeah? We-we can talk about this in the morning, okay? Let’s get you to bed.” He got nothing but a soft grumble in return, and he pulls her off the counter and carries her into his room. She clings to him like a koala, arms and legs wound tightly around his torso, and he tries not to let the overwhelming smell of cinnamon body wash and strawberry shampoo and Marinette Dupain Cheng overwhelm him. She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk, he thinks over and over, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Still, as he lays her down on his bed and pulls the covers over her, Conner can’t  help but hope they’ve unlocked something, can’t help but pray things might change between them.

He wishes her goodnight, still hovered over her half asleep form, and resolves to get her a glass of water and an Advil before he sets up the couch-bed. Yet, when he moves to stand, her hand grabs his arm and she holds him in place above her.

“Conner,” she whispers, her voice muffled by sleep and the covers. The dim light from the kitchen dances across her face, and Conner can’t help but stare at her glowing freckles. “Can you sleep here tonight?”

He’s caught off guard by her question. He’d always slept on the couch when she came over, no questions asked. “Are you sure, Mari? I don’t want to bother you, not when you’re alr—“

She doesn’t let him finish speaking, tugging on his arm to pull him down next to her. He doesn’t stop her. 

It’s only once they’ve pulled the covers over each other, and Marinette has wrapped Conner’s body around hers, that he lets himself hope she was serious. 

#maribat #maribat march #Marinette Dupain Cheng x Conner kent #mlb x dc

[greenbriar-j]

in which i said ANGST

Finley Schultz doesn’t often have bad days. When every day is a repeat of the last, is there such a thing as days that are worse than the others?

Today is a bad day. Everything he tried to do at work was - apparently - fundamentally incorrect. Did you even get a degree? Or did your daddy pay for it? No one dared say as much out loud, but he knew they were thinking it. 

Every time he opens his phone to text his girlfriend, he refrains. She’s busy too, busy being much more successful than he is. She probably wouldn’t mind, but just last night, she’d told him to give her a bit of space to study for her exams. It’s times like this that she often lashes out, but it’s times like this when he needs her closest to him.

Today is a bad day. He calls Emerson because it’s barely possible for him to feel any worse about himself or his life. This will either make him feel much better or a little worse, and he’s prepared for both consequences when she opens the door to her apartment.

She pulls him onto the couch wordlessly, dragging his head to rest on her shoulder. “Don’t say a word,” she demands while he adjusts to be comfortable. “Do not be a nuisance.”

“Mkay.”

Eyes flitting between the laptop on her lap and the notebook perched on the arm of the couch, Emerson writes furiously. Every few minutes, she sighs and Finley jumps. She’s mad at you. She thinks you’re an idiot. You are an idiot, since you came at a time like this.

And then he can’t take it anymore. Plucking the pen out of her hand and ignoring her incredulous, flabbergasted look, he says, “Baby, can we hang out?”

Emerson’s eyes harden, taking the pen back from between his fingers. “Hang out? Finley, this exam is tomorrow, and you know I can’t afford to fail it. And you want me to hang out with you?”

“Love, you haven’t hung out with me in a month.”

“And? I’m busy and don’t even have time to sleep.”

Today is a bad day, and Finley made the wrong choice coming here. He’s not really sure why he says it or how seriously he means it, but his voice hardens defensively as well. “Then maybe you should rethink this relationship. It’s not supposed to be one-sided, but it is. Call me when you want to officially break up; I’ll leave you to it.”

“Finley.” 

“What.” Snapping at Emerson Cao seems to be a foolish endeavor, but he can’t let her walk all over him like this. Not when he loves her like he does. “Love, it was our anniversary last weekend, did you know that?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

The realization is crashing in behind her eyes, and Finley understands exactly where they stand. “I invited you over, said I’d cooked all day for you, and you said, I have to go to my friends’ place to work on this project. Which, if I recall, isn’t even due at this point in time. How are you so good at remembering dates so long as they have nothing to do with me? Even our Tuesdays have gone out the window.”

“I-”

“I didn’t want to say it right before your exam, but I thought if no one else wanted my presence today, then perhaps you would. I see I was wrong. I accept defeat. Good luck on your exam.”

-

The exam is much easier than Emerson anticipated. The minute it’s over, she calls Finley.

“Are we breaking up?” he asks immediately, and she feels a thousand knives bury themselves in her heart. It’s the way he asks it that makes her wonder what she’s been doing this whole time. He doesn’t sound anything other than resigned, and she hates that she’s done this to him.

“No. Please, don’t. I’m sorry about last night and last week and the several other times I’ve fucked up and you didn’t say anything.”

“You can’t keep stringing me along.”

“I know. I know, and I’ve reflected on it.”

“You’re going to have to do more than reflect.”

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” She cries. “Be mad at me, Finley! Don’t hide your emotions from me!”

“If I gave you my emotions, would you take them? Or would they be a nuisance? I’m not going to yell at you, love, because we need to talk this out rationally.”

So they talked. They talked and they worked and they fumbled until things were some semblance of right again. 

Finley Schultz doesn’t often have bad days. Once in a while, he even has a good day. Once in a while, Emerson Cao smiles at him a little bit more than the day before, and he thinks that they’ll be perfectly alright.

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

Hell

Yannoe that incorrect quote that’s like, I would f//ck a demon cuz of status, when your stroll into hell and everyone else is panicking but your sugar daddy’s just there?

Well that’s what this fic is lmao 

Hitoshi Shinso x reader

Demon!Shinso who doesn’t go to UA

Genre : fluff, comedy possibly  

Warnings : swearing, hell(?)

Words : 2,316

Masterlist

A/N : it’s a very stereotypical hell, apologies lmao 

this is also a very ooc shinso cuz i’ve never written for him b4

Hope you enjoy!

The events following your classes’ arrival to the rescue centre were certainly a mess. One moment Thirteen had been explaining about them self and their quirk, and the next a vast mass of villains had shown up. A mass of purple clouds had swallowed all of you up whole and scattered you across the centre, leaving you with the weaker villains. 

Well that was what was supposed to happen. Instead, you had drop onto a one way staircase of marble, surrounded by rivers and waterfalls of lava.

“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?” someone curses out. You turn to see Bakugou taking off a piece of his costume, sweat already dripping down the side of his face. 

“Are we still in the rescue centre?” a certain red hair asks, deactivating his quirk that he had unconsciously started using when he was sucked into the warp.  

Before you can even get a word in, a small, cute imp pops up out of nowhere, a small trident in it’s hands. “Welcome to hell!” it cheers, a large grin on it’s face as it’s wings beat the hot air around, turning around to look at you. “Welcome back Lady Y/N, it’s been a while since we last saw you.” 

You hum in response, booping the small creature. “I must say I didn’t recognise it here, must’ve changed a lot.”

“It knows you?” Kirishima asks. You nod, not bothering to elaborate more as the imp answers your question.

“Not at all mistress.” it responds, flying around before settling on Kirishima’s shoulder, the said boy tensing up almost immediately before softly rubbing the imp’s cheek. “You simply hadn’t seen the outside of the castle.”

“Sorry to break up your little reunion.” Bakuogu snorts, stomping up to Kirishima and grabbing the imp by it’s tail. “but how the fuck can we get out of this shit hole?” 

“Well that’s not very nice.” it chides, stabbing him in the hand with the point of the tail before flying to settle on your head. “You can leave if master allows it.” it continues, ignoring Bakugou’s hisses and threats towards it.

“Well shall we go then?” Kirishima suggests, to which you agree. “Come on Bakubro, stop being a wimp.” 

“Who the fuck are you calling a wimp huh?” 

You ignore the boys, beginning to climb the stairs. The stair case seems endless, one step followed by a thousand more. 

“Why the fuck are there so many stairs?” Bakugou shouts, rubbing his forehead with his arm.

“Because it’s long and tortuous.” the imp laughs, sticking it’s tongue out at Bakugou to which he responds with another curse. 

“Would you like me to teleport you mistress?” it asks.

“Does that offer include the boys?” you ask, not bothering to turn around and look at them.

“No it doesn’t”

“What why not?” Kirishima asks. “That’s not very fair.” 

You can hear the pout in his voice. “Then I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

“Y/N you bitch, don’t you dare leave us- HEY! Come back here now!”

By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already gone.

“Bro she just left us.” Kirishima complains, but he’s drowned out by Bakugou’s ear piecing screams of anger. 

He sighs and shakes his head, continuing the steps up.

After what seems to feel like hours, they finally reach a massive gateway, It opens up to another set of stairs, this time the temperature much cooler than before and the stairs seem to be made out of pure gold, decorated with velvet trails of red. 

“This way!” the imp calls out, reappearing in mid air.

“You little shit-” Bakugou calls out, leaping into the air to grab it, but it simply flies away, leaving him to fall clumsily onto his feet. 

Kirishima follows along, pulling Bakugou by the arm, making sure he didn’t stomp off like a child. 

After a few twisty corridors, then find themselves in a massive hall, the ceiling held up with columns of red and gold, a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the centre. Painting and tapestry littered the baroque architecture and near the back of the hall sat a massive throne, one that could probably fit at least a dozen people.

The boys look to see you sat across someone’s lap, you head against their shoulder as they fed you grapes. 

“Oh, look who finally made it.” you smile, giving Bakugou a wink as you see literal steam emitting from his ears.

He starts scowling at you but Kirishima simply laughs. “So Y/N are you gonna explain anything or?”

“This is Hitoshi!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smiles adoringly at you. “He’s the demon king of hell.” you nod approvingly at your introduction, whereas it only brought more questions to his friends.  

“And you know him because...” Kirishima starts, trying to get you to continue explaining your story. 

“Oh, he’s like... hmm.” You pause, trying to look for a good term to label your relationship as. You had accidentally stumbled across summoning the demon when you tried to combine your quirk which witchcraft, which led the latter to become infatuated with you, the first human who had even summoned him in his thousands of years alive. 

Your room had began to fill with smoke and now matter your use of quirk or fanning air through the window, the wouldn’t seem to disappear. That’s when you realised the mass of black forming in the centre of the smoke. 

You shrieked and climbed out of the window, jumping down rather ungracefully before sprinting down the road. Your parents were at work so there was no point in staying in the house. 

As you turned the corner, you bumped into someone, falling backwards. They stepped forward and caught you by the waist, lifting you up to meet a gorgeous purple haired man with deep sunken eyes and a Cheshire grin.

“Um thanks.” you quickly said, stepping away and getting ready to run away again when he spoke.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

“I think there’s someone in my house.” you said, your adrenaline now leaving you with the fear. 

“Oh that was me.” he replied curtly, giving you a grin as he watched your face morph into fear, and then quickly anger. 

You raised you leg, kicking him directly in the nuts. 

“Bro I could’ve been changing on something.” you threw your hands up in the air. “Who gave you the right to just waltz into my house.”

“Um you actually.” he spluttered, squatting down on the floor as he struggled to regain his composure. He was the demon king for fuck’s sake and not only had some mere human ran away after summoning him but then they proceeded to kick him in the balls. The audacity!

“What?”

“You summoned me.” he glared.

You pursed your lips. “How?”

“How am I supposed to know?” he retorted. “No one’s done that before.”

You stared down at him, inching your face closer and studying his features. “Can I return you?”

“What the fuck?” He raised his head abruptly, head butting you as you stumbled back a few steps.

“What?” you shouted, rubbing your sore forehead as he stood up again. “I didn’t try and summon you, it was an accident.”

“Well I can’t go back until you make a deal with me.” the man sighed, placing his arms on his hips. 

“Yeah no.” you replied almost instantly, turning on your heel and leaving. If he was telling the truth and was indeed the one in your room, then you could go home with no worry. 

“Hey, don’t ignore me you human!” he shouted, catching up with you and walking next to you.

“Can’t you like, I don’t know, leave me alone?” you asked desperately. 

“No. You have to make a contract with any demon that you summon within 7 days or your soul will be taken.”

“Uh huh.” you nodded. “Can I make a deal with you to leave me alone?”

“Technically yes, but you’ll also need to pay a price.”

“Oh my fucking god.” you screamed, banging you head against your front door. “What’s the price then?”

“Hmm I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one spewing this nonsense about a contract.”

“Oh, it’s just I get to choose the price. I’m not too sure what I want from you yet.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to underneath your window before boosting yourself up with you quirk, perching on the window sill as you stared down at him.

“You’re cute. But also fucking insane bro.” you commented, stepping into your room and closing the window.

“Well that wasn’t very nice.” he said, reappearing in your room. 

You screeched, jumping back. “Bro please leave me alone.” you begged, sitting down defeated on your bed with your head in your hands. 

“Nope. I’ve decided.”

“What will it be?” you asked uninterested, deciding that you’re fate had been sealed already. You were going to die anyways, why not go by a hot demon.

“You’ll be my friend.” 

“What the fuck no.”

“I do admit that I’m rather a lonesome person, I could perhaps do with some of your...” he looked you up and down before finishing, “presence.”

You snorted. “Don’t you have any demon friends?”

“The king has no friends.” he replied simply.

“And you’re like the king?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“No darling, I am the king.” 

“He’s like my friend?” you question, looking at Shinso for an answer. He simply shrugs with a smile before holding up another grape for you. 

“Friends?” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t see you cuddling up to all of your friends in the dorms.”

“Humph fine.” you pout. “Like sugar daddy? I don’t know, but you do give me a lot of things.”

“That’s simply because I like you.” Shinso replies, a soft smile on his lips. 

You respond with a large grin, sitting up to give me a kiss on the cheek whilst you hear Bakugou cough “Disgusting.” underneath his breath. 

“Can’t you like, keep Bakugou here and torture him endlessly?”

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules.”

“Or you could recruit him, since he’s a literal demon himself.”

Kirishima laughs at your comment, before asking “So how can we go back? Our friends might be in danger so we need to go back as soon as possible.” 

“Alrighty Hitoshi, can you teleport us back?” 

He responds with a hum before you find yourselves back in the centre. 

You look around to see Kirishima and Bakugou getting up from the floor, Bakugou shouting about how he didn’t need to have dropped them from such a high place. He stops when he sees the Nomu, it’s foot perched upon your teacher’s head. You start to run to him when you realise Shinso is flying mid air, still holding you in his arms. 

“Hey, how strong are you?” you ask.

“Pretty strong I’d say. Why?”

“Do you think you could blow that muscle bird away. It’s kinda ugly.” you comment, pointing at the Nomu. “But like, keep the human underneath it, I kinda need him stil alive.”

“Your wish is my command.” he replies, before he flicks his wrist, the nomu being lifted high into the air and tossed to the side of the centre. 

“Holy shit.” a male voice shouts. “That bird is invincible, how did someone do that?”

You turn to see Mineta shouting by the side of the water zone, your lips curling in digust. “Ew gross.”

“Would you like me to get rid of him?”

“Maybe another day.” you reply. 

The doors suddenly burst open to reveal All Might, standing there in all of his muscly glory. 

He begins to fight with the Nomu as you lean back in Shinso’s chest. 

“So like, could you get his body off the playing field?” you ask, pointing at Aizawa.

Shinso hums in response, lifting Aizawa’s body and following it toward the exit of the centre. 

“Hey Tsuyu, could you take him?” you shout and she nods quickly, wrapping her tongue around his and pulling him towards the ambulances outside. 

“Alrighty, how about we wrap things up.”

Shinso hands you a magical gun and you enhance it with your quirk. With one beat of his wings, you two gets proceeding closer to the nomu, before you shoot it’s expose brain. It halts momentarily, unable to regenerate too quickly, and the perfect opening in created, All Might landing a punch and sending it flying off, out of the centre’s roof. 

“Well that was fun.”

“I don’t think we can say the same for your friends.”

You look over to see a few of your classmates very ruffled up, buts and bruises littering them. “Oof.”

“Should I put you down?” 

“Nah, you’re comfy.”

Bonus : 

“Y/N, are you going to see your demon boyfriend any time soon?” Kirishima calls out in the living room of the dooms.

“Demon boyfriend?” Uraraka pipes up, catching the interest of many classmates. 

“Hmm?” you hum in response, looking up from your phone. “Maybe when I feel like it, why?”

“Well I heard there’s a special type of crocodile skin in the demon realm where it’s unbreakable and I was wondering if I could reference it for my quirk or costume?”

You nod in response. “Sure thing, I can give him a call.”

“Um no you won’t.” Uraraka cuts in. “You are going to tell him to come here because I want to see your boyfriend.”

“Um why though?”

“Because we’re best friends and you didn’t even think to tell me you were dating someone?” she pouts and you instantly feel bad. 

“Sorry sorry Ochako. Sure.” you quickly reply. 

“No you are not inviting that bastard over.” Bakugou shouts from the kitchen. 

“Well more of a reason to invite him I guess.” you laugh. 

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #bnha imagine #mha #mha imagine #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #aizawa shouta #shinsou x y/n #shinso #shinsō hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinso x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader fluff #kirishima eijirou #bnha incorrect quotes

[gettin-a-lil-hanse]

Take Care of You

Pairing: Kihyun x Nonbinary Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1.6k

Tags: Lovemaking, Unprotected Sex, Soft Smut, Some Dirty Talk

Warnings: None (If you feel like there should be, please let me know!)

Summary: You’ve had a rough day at work and Kihyun hates to see you like this. He makes it his job to wipe away your troubles and replace them with pleasure.

A/N: This is a piece for a very special someone. I wanted to write something for them because I want them to feel just as special as they make me feel. This is my first time writing for the transgender community and please, by all means, if you have any feedback (i.e., incorrect terms) DON'T HESITATE TO LET ME KNOW!! If I make a mistake I want to learn and understand.

Kihyun was laid out on the couch, sitting up against the armrest as he read a book quietly, glasses perched on his nose. There was a comfortable silence in the room until the front door swung open and your tense figure emerged from the dark of the evening. He lifted his head in confusion, watching you storm through the living room.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t quit that job? I hate it, I hate my manager, my coworkers, I don’t even like what I do so why the fuck am I still working there?”

Kihyun let out a chuckle and stood up, walking over to wrap his arms around your frame. He pushed a strand of hair from your face, mentally noting that it probably fell during your raging.

“I take it today was another bad day at work, my love?”

“That’s an understatement. I literally wanted to claw my fucking eyes out.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rested all your weight onto him, relaxing a bit as he ran his hand through your hair.

“Well, you’re home now, so let me take care of you.”

You felt his hands drift down to your waist, resting there for a moment, thumbs rubbing over them before moving his hands down to your thighs to lift you. He lifted you as if you weighed as much as a feather, carrying you to your shared bedroom and laying you down gently at the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side. 

Unbuttoning your shirt from the bottom up, he placed soft kisses on your stomach along the way, lips lingering more each time the higher up your chest he got. He went slow, taking his time as his lips worked their way up to the junction between your neck and collarbone, making sure to leave faint love bites as he went. 

You lifted a hand, sliding under his shirt and only making it up to the middle of his abdomen before he grabbed your wrist to stop it, lips hovering above your ear.

“Let me do the work, baby. Just relax and enjoy.”

Kihyun pressed a kiss to your ear and pulled your hand from under his shirt before straightening himself from hovering over your form. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your work pants, rubbing the skin on your hips before bringing his hands together to undo the clasp and gently pull them down along with your underwear, leaving kisses over your hips and thighs. 

You lifted your head enough to see what he was doing, face flushing at the soft look on his face as he adorned your lower half with kisses until he looked up to meet your gaze, instinctively pushing your legs together.

“The point of this is for you to be relaxed baby. Is something wrong? I can stop if you want.”

You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you look for words.

“No, you don’t have to stop. I’m just… you know I get shy…”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you never have to be shy when you’re with me?”

You couldn’t help the way your head hung in embarrassment, prompting Kihyun to take his two fingers and lift it.

“Hey, I mean it. Why are you so shy, my love?”

“You know how I get about my body sometimes…”

Kihyun didn’t miss the way your arms subtly wrapped around yourself and he pulled your face closer.

“Your body does not define you. I understand that it may be important to you but to me, you are what is important. Whether you have a nice, tight pussy for me to slide into or a nice cock for me to play with, it does not matter. I still love you either way and nothing is going to change that. Ever.”

A smile made its way onto your face as he leaned in, lips brushing against yours and eyes set on your face.

“Will you let me show you how much you mean to me?”

You could only nod before his lips were pressed against yours in a soft but passionate kiss, his hands caressing your body as delicately as he would a fragile flower. When they reached your hips, he pressed his fingers into them, massaging them slowly as his lips moved in time with yours. Neither of you moved from that position for some time - only when he pulled away to undress. 

Kihyun made a show of pulling his shirt over his head, his toned abdomen a sight for sore eyes. He spent less time removing his sweats - feeling the need to be freed from the restraining cloth - before climbing back onto the bed, straddling your thighs as he leaned over to the bedside dresser to grab the bottle of lube that he kept on the top drawer. He tapped your thighs before nudging them apart lightly.

“We’ll take it slow unless you tell me otherwise, okay baby? But I need you to open your legs for me to do anything. Do you trust me? I need to hear you say it.”

You wondered how he could be so tender and careful, so calm in moments like this. It really did blow your mind. Nevertheless, it made you smile as you nodded confidently.

“I trust you, Kihyun.”

He smiled softly as he lubed up his two fingers and pushed them into you carefully, watching for any signs of discomfort as he slowly worked his fingers, stretching your entrance. His smile grew when he saw your face contort in pleasure and he leaned down to place soft kisses on your stomach. 

“Do you think you’re ready now, sweetheart?”

“I’m ready. Please… I need you.”

Your hips began to move against his hand until the feeling was gone and a whine left your lips. When you opened your eyes again, you were met by a delicious sight: Kihyun was spreading lube over his cock, the look on his face enough to tell you that he had been holding it in for some time. In fact, you thought you might have seen a slight bulge in his sweats in the midst of your raging. Had he really been holding back for you?

When he had finished lubing himself up, he slotted himself between your legs and guided his cock to your entrance, teasing it with the tip as he looked down at you.

“You’re in charge, okay? Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”

Kihyun pushed in slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort with one hand resting on your hip, thumb massaging it gently. When he was fully seated inside of you, he ran his hands up your sides, pausing only to flick his thumbs over your nipples before continuing.

“Please move, I’m ready I promise.”

His eyebrow quirked only slightly and he smirked, nodding and pushing his hands up into yours, lacing your fingers together. He leaned down and kissed you firmly as he began to thrust into you at a slow, steady pace. 

He always knew how to angle his hips just right, not needing time to find the spot that had you writhing in pleasure. But this time he purposely avoided it, wanting to draw out your pleasure. There was something so intimate about the closeness of it all - bodies pressed so close that you could feel the flex of his abdominal muscles each time he pushed into you, the way his breathing tickled your jaw as he pressed heated kisses to your neck. When you arched your back, your nipples brushed against his skin just enough to send a warmth down to your core. 

He loved your breathy moans and cries for more. He would swear that every sound that passed through your lips made his cock harder, but he would hold back from fucking into you. Even when you cried for him to go faster, he’d only speed up his thrust little by little. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was making love to you, showing you how much he loved you through him worshiping your body, murmuring praises into your ear.

“Only you could fit me so well, baby. Don’t you see? You were made for me to love, and I’ll love you every day if that’s what it takes for you to remember.”

Finally, Kihyun angled his hips to hit that spot that had you seeing stars, face buried into the crook of your neck. His moans made you shiver, clenching around him and making him hiss. 

“Cum for me, baby. I won’t cum until you do.”

After that, it took you but a few seconds for your orgasm to overtake your body, eyes screwed shut as you squeezed his hands. His orgasm followed immediately after yours, the room filled only by the sounds of the both of you catching your breaths as you come down from your highs. 

The two of you laid there, Kihyun nuzzling his face into your neck as you calmed down. He finally slipped himself out of you and rolled to lay beside you, arms pulling you into his chest. A lazy smile was plastered on his face, eyes closed as he buried his nose into your hair.

“How about we order something special for dinner and take a nice, hot bath together while we wait hmm? I’ll even pour you a glass of your favorite wine.”

A chuckle left your lips and you buried your face further into his chest. 

“I would absolutely love that.”

#Chye’s Writing #kihyun fic #kihyun smut #monsta x fic #monsta x smut #kpop fic #kpop smut

[anthropologicalhands]

r/n - i've been working on my backwards walk / there's nowhere else for me to go / except back to you just one last time / say yes before i change my mind

As Rebecca tries to be sanguine about nearing forty, seeing it as a peak rather than a slide into decay (a Naomi-fostered distortion that has proven remarkably difficult to shake), one thing that has comforted Rebecca over the last decade is that with experience, she’s learned how to handle all matter of situations with grace, simply because she’s seen them before.

Revisiting this particular situation, however, is not what she expected.

It starts with an invitation delivered to Rebecca’s house to Hebby’s fifth grade graduation. There wouldn’t be anything strange about such a thing, even after she gets over the orange-and-turquoise astronaut theme (Hebby was going through a bit of a NASA phase), were it not for the fact the invitation was also addressed to Nathaniel.

Rebecca and Nathaniel, specifically.

Still frowning and trying to ignore the weird ringing that just went through her head at the jolt of seeing hers and Nathaniel’s names juxtaposed across a piece of lurid cardstock—like they’re a unit, or something—Rebecca credits herself with just pulling her phone out and calling Darryl directly instead of diving headfirst into a panic spiral.

“Rebecca!” Darryl’s voice booms from the other end of the line, and Rebecca can’t help the reflexive grin—Darryl’s unflagging enthusiasm while raising four daughters remains nothing short than a scientific marvel. “What a surprise. How is my favorite pretzel singer?”

“Hey, Darryl. Quick question for you. I got your card—”

“Isn’t it great? Hebby picked out the colors specially.”

“I’ll bet she did. But that’s not why I was calling, actually. I was wondering if, perchance, you might have had a shortage of such eye-popping invitations?”

“What do you mean?”

“My invitation was addressed to me and Nathaniel, which, I can definitely send him the deets, no problem, but wouldn’t an email be easier?”

“Oh?” She can hear Darryl’s mustache frown from the other end of the phone. “You mean you and Nathaniel aren’t…”

“Well, he doesn’t live here,” snaps Rebecca, a little flustered. “Why would you think that? Why did you think—did he—”

“Hang on,” says Darryl, and she can hear him calling for April, leaving her stuttered rejection hanging.

Are her and Nathaniel—

How is that even a question anymore?

It’s been a decade, and everyone involved with that event has definitively moved forward with their lives. Her and Josh were a definitive ‘no’ from that fateful Valentine’s Day onwards, remaining dear friends instead, and she was very much the ‘cool aunt’ among his own children. Her and Greg had wavered briefly for a bit afterwards, ran into some seriously uncomfortable friction, and it took them the better part of two years to find a good balance. It probably helped that she accidentally connected him to the woman who would become his wife, but that was a story for another day.

And it was a similar story with Nathaniel. He went to Guatemala for two years, came back and split his time between helping at MountainTop and working with some volunteer legal capacity with the local zoos and her and him—

Ah. Well.

Okay, so it wasn’t quite as clearly defined with Nathaniel, beyond the general fact that she wanted him to be happy, and he wanted her to be happy, and generally their relationship since his return had been checking in on each other, making fun of their weird hobbies and still showing up to events that were important to each other. It was all very adult and friendly and open. Their friendship had appropriate limits and boundaries and they supported each other in the respective relationships they had tried over the years, and it was very platonic…

Well. Except when it wasn’t. There hadn’t been a repeat of the Mona incident ever, and Rebecca could honestly say that she really liked a couple of the long-term girlfriends he’d introduced to them since then, and was genuinely regretful when those relationships ended. Especially for Sylvia, the LA Zoo curator who had to move for her career. Not that the regret wasn’t complicated by other factors, like when Nathaniel had admitted privately to Rebecca later that as much as he liked Sylvia, he just couldn’t see himself leaving California again.

She didn’t get butterflies at that, exactly, because but there had been a comfort in knowing that Nathaniel was content to remain in her orbit.

Again, not entirely uncomplicated. But it was nothing beyond the usual messy spectrum of human emotion internally, and never acted on externally.

She’s dated on and off as suited her libido and her schedule and her desire to find a life partner. She’s had relationships that got serious enough to talk about the future on and off, but they’ve all ended too for reasons inherent to those dynamics themselves. Nathaniel had been a good friend while they were going on, and a shoulder to cry on after, and well, okay, they might have fallen back into bed together a few times over the years, but they never pretended that it was either more than it was or that it was some forbidden thing that wouldn’t happen again. It was what it was.

Well. And they hung out, sometimes. And occasionally were each other’s plus-ones to public events. And friends’ weddings. And quite possibly—

Hm.

It really, really doesn’t help her case that she’s going to see him tonight, either.

“Rebecca?” Darryl tears her out of her thoughts. “Sorry about that! I think there was just a mistake at the stationary shop and they put your cards in together. What are the odds? I might need to call the other parents on the list, just to make sure that they got theirs all right. Could you take that one to Nathaniel? I don’t know if it’s out of your way—”

“Not at all!” says Rebecca, smiling with all of her teeth even though Darryl can’t see her, her cheeks aching. “Not even remotely.”

“Good,” says Darryl, and she can hear him beaming from the other side of the line.

~

“So, a funny thing happened on the way to your apartment…”

“That’s ominous,” comments Nathaniel, taking the bag of groceries she shoves at him without complaint as he closes the door behind her. Rebecca kicks off her shoes and toes them out of the walkway, abiding by Nathaniel’s still oft-repeated entreaties to not leave her personal belongings strewn entirely across his apartment.

“It’s not ominous so much as luminous,” says Rebecca, reaching into her purse and withdrawing Hebby’s invitation with a little flourish of the wrist. “Well, fluorescent.”

“Oh my god.”

Nathaniel accepts the card and flicks it open, scanning through the cheerful, only slightly grammatically incorrect message, and cannot quite suppress an amused huff of laughter. Rebecca hides her own smile as she turns away to set her purse on the very useful hook Nathaniel installed for her own use. Like herself, Nathaniel has a soft spot for Hebby, despite his continued awkwardness around children.

“Right? She gets that from Darryl for sure.”

“I don’t know, I remember someone showing up in some pink and purple eyesore into a law firm the very first day I met her.”

“You just didn’t know fun when you saw it,” says Rebecca instead, perching on the edge of the couch. “But it was funny. I was worried for a second that he thought that we were a couple or something. How weird is that?”

She is completely, totally casual in her delivery of that line, she knows. A decade in community theater and singing gigs have certainly finetuned her ability to turn a phrase, if nothing else. But something must be slightly offkey, because Nathaniel snaps up from marveling at the card to eye her suspiciously.

“Very weird,” he says, after a slightly-too-long pause. “Do we seem like a couple? Why would we seem like a couple when we aren’t a couple?”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” She punches him companionably on the arm; apparently too hard, if the way he winces and rubs at his bicep is any consideration.

(She’s been taking workout classes with Valencia—she deserves something for all that pain.)

“But it’s probably nothing,” she adds, determined to address this weird little misstep directly, because they are both too old to be having any kinds of weird misunderstandings anymore. “We’re close. We have our own rhythm, our own special two step. No wonder Darryl got confused.”

“He’s getting old,” says Nathaniel.

“Dude, c’mon.”

“What? It’s true.”

“What about you, Mister Gray?” Rebecca challenges. Nathaniel pulls a face in response, clearly fighting the urge to brush his hand through the aforementioned silvering at his temples.

(He wasn’t quite vain enough to dye his hair yet, though Rebecca credits his restraint to the fact that she would never let him hear the end of it.)

“It’s just a couple of hairs,” he says inconsequentially, as though it hasn’t been long established that between the two of them, he’s the one with the greater fear of aging, and therefore in far more danger of aging gracelessly.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Rebecca hops off the couch and grabs him by the elbow. “Now c’mon, let’s make sure make these sweet potatoes are not oh-sweet-pies-don’t!”

~

Heading over to Nathaniel’s place had left Rebecca feeling on edge, not quite sure how to process the idea of someone, anyone, considering her and Nathaniel as a potential couple this late in the game.

Nothing is more grounding, however, than seeing Nathaniel being clearly so off kilter, missing steps in what should be a well-worn dance of theirs by now. Dancing has always been their thing—where they once threw each other off at every possible moment, shaking up their convictions about life and happiness and how that concept could exist within their previously compartmentalized existences. Now, they were familiar with each other. Comfortable. Predictable.

They knew each other’s moves now, which means that she could see Nathaniel’s as clear as water.

He’s unfocused during dinner, a little erratic in his answers, jittery, as if he’s had too much coffee. It’s putting her off her rhythm, and while she knows that not everything in life needs to be a big song and dance production, there does need to be some kind of continuity.

This evening was supposed to be easygoing and relaxing. And, yes, probably beneficial in that very particular friends-with-benefits way. But since that clearly wasn’t going to happen, they needed to execute a sharp left turn and get this all settled.

“Nathaniel?” she repeats, for the third time.

“Hm?”

“Are you getting hard of hearing in your old age?” He scowls deeply at her in response. “Yeah, yeah, I had to ask. So, what’s bugging you?”

He’s silent for a long minute. “Just something ridiculous.”

“Yeah?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t need to go through it again. It’s just spinning in circles around the same old subject.”

“Try a jazz square then.”

That startles a laugh out of him, much to Rebecca’s satisfaction. Good to know that she still has some capacity for surprise with him. She continues, “You know that move, right? Don’t tell me you forgot about Connie.”

“Are you kidding? I still have nightmares about her scarf strangling me to death.”

“Dark.”

“She was terrifying.”

“Yeah.” They sit in companionable silence. Then Nathaniel sighs.

“Sorry I’m being weird. I just…hearing that from you, I always thought it would just be a good laugh. You know, ridiculous to even think about romance again. But it made me feel weird instead, so now I’m acting slightly weird.”

“I wouldn’t say slightly,” teases Rebecca, unable to resist. Nathaniel doesn’t return her smile.

“Rebecca, I like where we are. I like that our relationship isn’t a big production anymore.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I love drama on the stage, but that’s definitely where it should stay.” She drums her fingers on her thigh, subconsciously tapping out a tune that’s been giving her trouble these last few weeks. “We can learn new steps, you know. Old dogs, new tricks? That doesn’t only apply to the bedroom.”

Nathaniel (again, predictably) groans.

“Aren’t you getting too old to have such a dirty mind?” But he’s smiling, now.

“Nah. I fully intend to be a filthy old woman. But seriously,” she adds, moving to sit besides him on the couch. “If just the thought of other people thinking that we’re a couple again is enough to send us both off balance, we need to center ourselves. Maybe it’s something worth talking about. What do you say?”

She reaches out and grabs his hand, and starts to tap a rhythm against his large palm—one of the first she ever composed, the first one her friends ever danced to. After a moment, he taps back, completing it.

“Yes.”

#writing meme reply #rebecca x nathaniel #crazy ex girlfriend #ellie writes fic #I'm not sure how happy i am with the denouement of this one #and it spun away a bit from the prompt #but i like enough of it #it's been forever since i've written fic #notbang

[moccahobi]

It’s Raining Sharks Part 1 [TaeGi]

Summary: A sharknado! They’re real! Follow surfer Tae, badboy Yoongi, drunk Jimin, and intelligent Namjoon as they try to survive!

Genre: Sharknado AU, Horror (if you count sharknado as a horror movie), action, angst, 

Warnings: Gore, Excess alcohol use, grossly incorrect use of sharks, smoking, cussing, blood, a few sharks eat people, sharknado, guns, major character death

WC: 3.7k

A/N: This is for @thebtswritersclub​‘s monthly prompt! This month is monsters! And... @aroseforyoongi​ wanted a sharknado au! So... BOOM! And I am activly working on a part 2! And is also my submission for the Taegi square for @btsholidaybingo​!

Happy screams filled the cloudy skies as adults and children alike were running and playing along the soft sand. Frothing white waves crashed in the surf, people riding on top of them with concentrated faces. Despite the cloudy skies, it was a clear day and the lifeguards on duty were spread out on their perches, relaxing and taking the job easy. 

One of them, a caramel skinned man with deep purple hair and classic red lifeguard swim trunks on was even reading instead of doing his job. A slender finger pushed his round (and very dirty) spectacles back to a secure spot on his nose, the pair seeming to slide down endlessly in the heat of summer. Every once in a while, he raised his eyes and looked around the beach slowly to make sure that everything was ok and when everything was ok (as it always was), he went back to reading. 

Next to the reading lifeguard was a good looking brunette with sharp eyes and strong brows sprawled out on a rainbow beach towel, his other supplies sitting in the sand next to him. He’d been training for the past hour, his small speedo gently cupping and accentuating his body while allowing him to tan almost every part of him. Once he felt like he had been tanning for long enough, he got up and started to apply more low spf sunscreen. Through thick brows, the brunette checked out the lifeguard, his pink tongue momentarily peeking out and running across his lips, a small mustache and goatee framing them. The lifeguard didn’t notice or didnt care. 

Once the sunscreen had dried, the brunette took out a wetsuit from his duffle bag and got suited up, his board resting just a little ways away. Once suited, he picked up his board and ran off to the water. Silently, he looked back at the lifeguard to see if he was watching. His eyes were glued to whatever book he brought with him. 

In reality though, the water wasn’t nearly as safe as everyone thought it was. Rough skinned, mangled fanged sharks on their migration path south were passing by the beach. Blood thirsty and hungry, they could easily mistake a swimmer or surfer for a tasty snack. Yet as long as they didn’t breach, no one seemed to pay notice of the stalking swimmers as they leisurely patrolled from below, looking for a quick meal. One of the sharks wasn’t too stealthy though. It breached the surface of the water and its fin caught the attention of one of the working lifeguards. Very quickly after the fin was spotted, lifeguards were blowing their whistles, putting up a red danger flag and helping to get people out of the water. None of the sharks even had a nibble before the waters were cleared of people.  

Shortly after that, the purple haired lifeguard was back to reading his book and counting down the minutes until he could clock out and drink at the nearest bar. He had forty five minutes left. At the parking lot was the brunette, now in an unbuttoned hawaiian shirt (his chest was on display for all to see) and blue board shorts. He’d begrudgingly trekked back to his car after the red flags were raised, upset at only catching one good wave. The only thing that could have made his day worse was if it rained. That would completely ruin his plans of drinking a smoothie and relaxing in the sun. 

The sour stench of cigarette smoke drew his eyes up to a somber looking man in dark blue skinny jeans and a black leather jacket, his lips loosely puckered around a cigarette. He took one last drawl before throwing it on the ground and snuffing it out under chunky black boots, a wink shot at the surfer as he did so. 

Slowly he licked his lips and gave the brunette a once over, “I’m Yoongi.”

“I’m Taehyung.”

“Would you want to have a drink with me?”

“Sure.”

“Now?”

“Sure.”

“Well then… sure.”

Yoongi started to walk towards the closest bar as Taehyung quickly locked his car and ran to catch up with the gloomy man that he felt an attraction to. The two of them walked to the bar in silence, Yoongi focused on getting a drink in him and Taehyung struggled to find something to talk about. Once seated at the bar, Yoongi ordered two scotches.

“Oh. I don’t drink. I’ll have a sprite though!” Taehyung told the bartender.

Yoongi grunted, “How come?”

“I don’t like feeling drunk. Plus I don’t find most alcohol tasty.” 

“Makes sense. Alcohol is an acquired taste. I remember not liking it when I first had it.”

“And you like it now?” 

Yoongi snorted, “Yeah. Otherwise I wouldn’t drink it. Getting drunk is fun and all but I want to enjoy what I drink as well.”

While the two continued to talk (after finally finding something to talk about), the purple haired lifeguard came in, finally done with his shift, the man making a b-line to one of the bars regulars and a long time friend: Jimin. He had pastel pink hair that made him stick out like a sore thumb in the bar and always reeked of vodka… even when he wasn’t at the bar.

“They say a hoard of sharks are coming this way. Should we be scared, Doc Namjoon?” His words were slurred and he looked over at Namjoon with hooded eyes as he downed another shot of vodka. 

Namjoon snorted and rolled his eyes, “Of course not, Jimin. What the hell kind of conspiracy theories do you watch? Most sharks are completely harmless to humans. Some even really enjoy human interaction.”

“I watch really really…” Jimin smacked his lips, “Good things. Like three am documentaries on the… science channel.” 

“Wow. You must be so smart!” 

“I am! Like… I read one about… WOAHHH! You wouldn’t believe it,” Jimin giggled and grew animated, “A fucking tornado that… it… it sucked up sea life and took it allllll on land! It was… insane!”

“Sounds like a conspiracy theory. Or someone who doesn’t understand how nature works.”

“It’s true though! I promise!”

Namjoon snorted and gently patted Jimin’s shoulder, “Sure, buddy, and the movie The Meg is written about a real live event. Megalodons are totally real.”

“Well now you’re just being mean. Who's to say that sharks can’t be sucked into a tornado and survive?”

“Logic.” 

The two of them settled into a comfortable quiet, Jimin watching the nearest tv and Namjoon reading his book. The bar animated and alive as people celebrated a good day and relaxed after a hard day. Occasionally one could hear the loud laughs of a good conversation from Taehuyng and Yoongi, the two seeming to have hit it off well. The life in the bar suddenly stopped when the walls around them started to creak and groan, high winds pushing against them angrily. The only noise that one could hear was the newscaster on the tv talking about a tornado warning in the area.

Namjoon sighed and shook his head, turning to Jimin and speaking, “Whelp, you can’t drive and we should get somewhere safer than the beach so… come on up, Jimin.”

“What?! Namjoon, we have had so many tornadoes, why would this one possibly be different?” Jimin complained, grabbing the bar stool he sat on nonetheless and following behind Namjoon. 

“The fact that you haven’t been hunkering down is alarming.” Namjoon sighed and shook his head, not even paying mind to Jimin trying to steal the bar stool.

Before they even made it halfway across the bar, something heavy hit against one of the bar walls and shook the whole establishment. Everyone stilled as Yoongi slowly got up and looked out the window but aside from the grey skies of an approaching tornado, there wasn’t anything they could see.

WHAM!

Yoongi ducked down quickly, narrowly avoiding a whole shark as it came flying through the window, its tempered glass shattering into millions of small cubes. The thing flopped around angrily biting at anything and everything it possibly could. People anxiously jumped out of the way and ran towards the exit, even the bartender abandoned his post to leave the building. Yoongi was the first of the four left in the bar to reach, him grabbing one of the stools and jabbing it furiously at the shark with an angry yell. One of the dull legs of the seat punctured the sharks rough skin as blood spurted out from around it. 

Yoongi stabbed the shark a few more times, a grunt leaving him as he did so before the shark eventually stopped snapping at its surroundings. 

“WHAT THE FUCK! THAT WAS A FUCKING GREAT WHITE THAT-” Namjoon couldn’t believe what he just saw. 

A great white shark was flung through the bar’s window by a tornado.

“A SHARKNADO! I TOLD YOU IT COULD HAPPEN!” Jimin yelled happily, climbing over the bar to grab the entire bottle of tequila.

“Wha… what the hell?” Taehyung muttered, anxiously looking at the shark as if it was about to come alive again and kill him.

“It’s ok Taehyung. I will protect you. You have a big car right? I don’t think it would be safe for me to ride my motorcycle home.” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to Taehyung and trying to comfort the shocked man.

Taehyung could only focus on the blood splatter on Yoongi’s face as he silently nodded, opening and closing his mouth anxiously as he tried to formulate more words. 

“E-excuse me?” Namjoon spoke up suddenly, interrupting the tender moment between Yoongi and Taehyung and blushing as he did so, “Y-y-you probably don’t know me but I see you around a lot and I drank too much to be able to drive right now and,” He looked over at Jimin who was cuddling his chair as he nursed the bottle of tequila, “My friend is not in a state to drive… could you drive us to a safe place too? I promise we aren’t bad people!”

Yoongi coughed and gave Namjoon a once over, clearly not liking the idea.

“Namjoon, right? We’ve talked a few times. You’re the lifeguard who never actually works.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Sure… you can… just please make sure your friend doesn’t vomit in my car.” 

At that the four of them cautiously exited the bar before making a run (well as fast of a run as possible with Jimin) as people around them panicked and sharks were crashing into various objects. Namjoon even watched in horror as a large goblin shark crashed into his beloved lifeguard tower and started to eat the wood! Goblin sharks never got this close to shore, let alone on it! What type of craziness was this?!

By the time that the four of them had managed to get into Taehyung’s car, a fucking megamouth shark plowed through the bar. A gnarled brick and wood pile laying where the bar once was. 

“WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! THIS ISN’T LOGICALLY POSSIBLE! TWO DEEP FUCKING SEA SHARKS JUST… WHAT THE FUCK!” Namjoon was yelling, tightly holding onto Jimin in fear as he looked out as flying sharked swallowed people whole.

 “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, DUDE?! DON’T LEAVE- HE’S LEAVING THE CAR WHY IS HE LEAVING THE CAR?!” Namjoon continued to yell as Yoongi ran to his motorcycle and grabbed his concealed gun. 

“Woah. Yoongi, I don’t know about having a gun in here.” Taehyung said quietly as he cautiously eyed the gun that Yoongi clasped tightly. 

“Taehyung, how else are we going to fight these sharks? We don’t have another stool… other than… What’s your name?” Yoongi leaned back and looked at Jimin who scoffed and said his name. 

Taehyung sighed and shook his head before he started driving, quickly trying to drive away and avoid the flying sharks. Before their car could even get a mile, a large wave crashed over them and pushed Taehyung’s car almost half a mile away from where they had started. It shook the car violently and they could hear some sort of things hitting his car with loud THUMPS and THWAKS as water rushed by them. For the four of them, it felt like the moment was going to last a lifetime (and possibly be their last), but it only lasted half a minute before they had stopped moving, maybe an inch of water coating the ground now. 

When the waves finally did stop, the car was dead silent, Yoongi having instinctively grabbed Taehyung’s hand and Namjoon fearfully holding onto Jimin as he looked anxiously out at the car. 

Taehyung looked down at Yoongi’s hand and blushed, gently intertwining their hands before he looked around. He couldn’t be sure from the sharks squirming around the land and biting at everything in their path, but he was fairly positive that at least one of the things that hit their car was not a shark. Carefully he surveyed the road now in front of him. There didn’t seem to be any real dangerous things in the road that could pop one of their tires and with that in mind he once again started to drive, the car silent and tense. 

Of course none of them were prepared for what was to come. No one in the entire city would ever be prepared for the monster that the tornados had seemed to conjure up. The tornado seemed to suck up a beast that was more ferocious and scary than any of the other ones combined. And it was angry. Very angry.

Above the water, a water filled tornado had already made its way on land, spewing sharks every which direction that were causing mass destruction. From the tornado itself consuming whole buildings and leaving rubble behind to sharks flying angrily through the air and consuming anything that got in their paths before eventually dying from a lack of air, nothing and no one seemed to be safe. 

“All I am saying is that you often see these waves come in bouts of three… the last of which is always the strongest. If you really want us to get to safety, you need to put the pedal to the medal, Taehyung. I don’t want to be around water by the time the third wave comes.”

“I get that, I really do, Namjoon… but the cops here are ruthless. I don’t want a ticket. Natural disaster or not, I don’t want my record being tainted.”

Namjoon scoffed as Yoongi shook his head with a light smile, “Don’t worry, Namjoon. I’ll protect us.” 

“With your gun?! Are you crazy dude!? There are literal fucking sharks eating people whole and the water tornados! You really think a gun will do shit?”

“Totally. Plus, we can always stop somewhere and get extra stuff. I am pretty handy. I’ve dealt with sharks a ton in the past.” A distant look crossed Yoongi’s face, his mind clearly off in a distant land.

“Hey Namjoon?” Jimin mumbled from Namjoon’s embrace (who was still using the poor drunk like a stress ball), “Do you think that we’re going to die?”

“What? No, no. We won’t die, Jimin. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. We’re going to survive.”  Namjoon punctuated what he said with another squeeze of Jimin before he finally let go and seemed to grow his composure.

“We probably want to actually think about where we are going… instead of just generally going inland.”

“Hmm… I was thinking that we could go to the inland. Like the part of town.” Taehyung said, anxiously tapping his steering wheel as he maneuvered around sharks.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?” 

“The inland isn’t actually inland… you know that, right? It’s literally half a mile from the beach! Just slightly north!” Namjoon started shouting angrily.

He opened his mouth to keep yelling at Taehyung, another harsh wave crashed into the side of the car. From the force alone, the windows shattered and from Taehyung’s reflexes with driving, the car suddenly stopped. Jimin, who forgot to put his seatbelt on, went flying forwards and roughly hit his head against Yoongi’s seat before falling limply in his own lap. Namjoon on the other hand, was once again screaming, salty water filling his open mouth as he looked into the mouth of a large bull shark excitedly swimming into the now broken passenger window. In the rush of the wave continuing to pass through the car, a new, redder liquid started to merge. By the time the car passed, everything (and everyone) was coated in a faint pink color. 

Once the wave had passed the car, Taehyung and Yoongi were left staring back in horror at the bloody and half eaten body of Namjoon, their minds rushing to process what had happened. When Taehyung’s mind finally caught up, he immediately rushed to leave the car, his fingers stumbling to unbuckle himself and unlock the door before leaving the car with a strangled cry and budding tears. By the time Yoongi had left the car and reached Taehyung, the man was hyperventilating and crying. He hadn’t known Namjoon well but the two of them talked every once in a while and he never wanted him to die. Hell before he met Yoongi (and if things with Yoongi didn’t work out), Taehyung was still playing with the idea of asking Namjoon out. 

Yoongi shushed Taehyung quietly and gently wrapped Taehyung in a hug, the soft gesture seemingly uncommon for the stiff man. The two stayed there for an unknown amount of time before a scream from the car changed their attention. Jimin was clambering out of the broken car window, his eyes wide with fear before they landed on Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Were you fuckers going to just leave me in there?!” Jimin yelled angrily, walking over to them and wiping the fresh tears off his face. 

“Sorry, Jimin.” Taehyung looked down sadly, “I was shocked too… I… Fuck. This is such a scary time. I don’t know what to do.” 

“We need to go to a gun store. That is what we need to do.” Yoongi said calmly.

“What?”

“A gun store. We need to go get more guns. The wave ruined the only gun I had.” 

“We need to get to safety! That is what we need to do.” Jimin yelled again, “Namjoon said so!”

“And how can we get to safety without a gun?! We can’t use your fucking barstool to keep sharks at bay.”

“You used a stool before.”

“Guys…” Taehyung’s weak voice interrupted them with an uncertain wobble, “Can we please get a move on and not fight? We can find a store that sells guns and some other things… I don’t want to be here here or without something somewhat protecting us from any more waves.”

Yoongi looked over at Jimin as if to ask if that was ok before the three of them started walking along the road, neither of their electronics working. They were forced to walk along the road and take the first exit. At one point the three of them climbed up a tree at the edge of the road and waited for another wave to pass as wind dangerously whipped at their faces, hoards of sharks rushing past. They didn’t risk climbing down until all the sharks that were left in the area by the wave had passed. In the sky, they could see a tornado angrily throwing sharks left and right almost 100 miles ahead of them. None of them smart enough to notice that they couldn’t see its position change… which meant that it was on a path right to them… none of them observant enough to notice one specific, ancient looking shark that was angrily twisting and turning in the tornado. Somehow they managed to make it to an almost completely abandoned parking lot in front of a run down Hilton Hotel, one large, lone truck. 

Yoongi stopped and eyed it, Jimin distractedly meandering ahead and Taehyung waiting for Yoongi to say something, “We should steal it.”

“The… the car?”

“Yeah. We won’t make good headway on foot and we can’t easily guess when another wave will come. It would be safer.” 

“It’s illegal, Yoongi.”

“It would save us time and protect us from another wave, Jimin.”

“The last car didn’t protect Namjoon.”

“This one has larger wheels though. And it protected us during the first wave.” 

Before Jimin had any chance of arguing more, Yoongi tried opening one of the doors before grabbing a rock nearby and smashing one of the rear windows open to unlock one of the doors. 

“Well now that one of the windows is broken how will it protect us!” Jimin yelled angrily before going off on a rant as Yoongi worked on hot wiring the car and Taehyung floundered between the two. 

He had no idea what to do or what was better but as he anxiously looked at the still tornado, he knew he didn’t want to be outside for much longer and quickly climbed into the shotgun of the car. With a breath of relief from Yoongi, the car reved to life and Yoongi buckled in. 

“Well?” Yoongi looked over at Jimin who was angrily standing a solid ten feet away and gripping his barstool tightly, “Are you going to get in or is this where we part ways?” 

“I will not take part in illegal activities. A natural disaster or not. If you’re smart, Taehyung, you’d join me.”

Taehyung anxiously looked between Jimin and Yoongi, both of which were looking at him and waiting for his decision. What was he supposed to do? This was a matter of life and death… surely it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he did a few illegal things to stay alive… but did he want that hanging on his conscious? 

With one anxious look back at the tornado… which… somehow… seemed to look a little close, he resolutely closed the door and buckled in a small “Sorry.” leaving his mouth before Yoongi drove off, leaving Jimin in the dust, his frame getting smaller the farther they went. 

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