#so do I need my head to be borderline exploding so I can be satisfied with what I come up with

[lowkeyorloki]

Glass Warrior

You’re so beautiful, and so breakable. Loki could never forgive himself if he hurt you.

( smut ! 18+ only please, and tbh, that goes for my whole blog )

~

Want is ebbing away at your core.

Loki’s mouth is over yours, robbing you of all your breath in a searing kiss. You’re completely wrapped up in him, fingers tangled in his black hair and eyes closed so you can meet him in the dark. 

The room is heavy with lust, your back pressed against the armrest of your couch. Loki leans over you, and his body is heavy, and all you can think is, good. If you’re going to go out in any way, you want it to be hot and grandiose and because someone just loved you that much.

Neither you or Loki have shirts on, and his bare stomach and chest against yours feels so good it makes you dizzy, but it isn’t enough. Your hands slide from Loki’s shoulder blades, all the way down his muscled back until they reach the curve of his ass. You take note of every curve and divot under your palm, because you know time like this is limited. You have to make the most of it, commit any and everything to memory.

Your fingers have barely teased the hem of Loki’s pants when he sits up.

“Darling,” he says. Loki’s words are sweet, but his voice is sinful. It’s strained, and when you get a good look at Loki, you take in his reddened lips and lidded eyes. You probably don’t look much better, with all the attention hehey’’s been giving your neck. “We have to stop.”

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach, and you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Loki sees this, and a look of horror passes over his face.

“No.” he unlaces your arms, pulls you back to him, and presses a chaste kiss on the top of your head. You’re confused, and hurt, but you can’t resist Loki. You accept his embrace, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. “You’re beautiful.” he whispers in your ear.

“So then why don’t you want to...” you trail off, avoiding eye contact.

Loki runs his finger up and down your spine, his breath returning to a steady place. He sighs.

“I can’t risk you.”

“I don’t understand.” you unlace yourself from Loki’s arms. “I’m an adult, Loki.”

“But you aren’t like me.” you bite your lip. Loki’s words are like knives, lodging themselves deep in your heart. “Your body... we aren’t built the same.”

You reach forward, and when Loki doesn’t move away, you trace the definition of Loki’s chest. Abs. You run your finger over each rib, promising both yourself and Loki you won’t miss a single part of him.

Despite his recent protests, Loki’s eyes slide shut. 

“You don’t seem so different to me.” you murmur. “You never did.”

Loki takes your hand. “I have to protect you, pet. Even against myself.”

“Protection isn’t paranoia.” you say. Loki looks... crestfallen. Like he’s fighting a war with himself. “You’re strong, Loki, but I can handle myself.” you lean in to kiss the base of Loki’s neck. A sound of pleasure escapes from his lips. You rake your teeth up Loki’s throat, and he cranes his head to give you more access. You can tell Loki wants this- the evidence is pressed against your leg, driving you damn near insane. And besides, he’s admitted under the cover of late nights and hushed tones what he fantasized about doing to you. 

With you.

“You ask me all the time to trust you,” you say next to Loki’s ear. “So, just once, can you trust me?”

Loki pushes you back, but keeps a hold on you. His grip on your waist is tight, almost uncomfortable, but you don’t move. Loki brings your forehead to his.

“I can’t lose you.” he says, his lips brushing your own. You bring a hand up, running your thumb over Loki’s sharp cheekbone.

“You aren’t going to. We’re past that. We’re so far past that.” Loki looks at you with worried eyes, but there’s hunger there too, a thousand years’ worth. Loki looks down, then back up again, and suddenly all worry and stress is gone from his face. 

He’s ravenous.

“Tell me to kiss you.” Loki’s tone is borderline abrasive after being so concerned. It catches you off guard, and your breath hitches. Loki attaches his lips to your sternum, sucking lightly and then biting down. You yelp, the action sending waves of arousal throughout your body. His lips travel to your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple. You hunch over him, your fingers returning to his hair and pulling. Loki groans.

“Tell me.” Loki's hands trace your back until they dip under the hem of your jeans. He cups your ass, your head falling back. 

You pull yourself together for just long enough to do what Loki wants. You hold his chin, keeping his eyes trained on his own. The next words you say, you pour your desire, your reassurance, your desperation into.

“Kiss me.” the words come out between pants. “Please, Loki. Kiss me.”

Loki knocks you off balance, so you’re lying completely on the couch. It’s small, almost too small for this, and Loki looms over you, a hand on either side of your head, so close all you can see is him.

It’s a wonderful sight, but sight isn’t enough.

You bring your palm towards the tent in Loki’s pants, brushing it experimentally. He hums, pressing himself into your hand. He’s hard, and you whimper upon the realization it’s because of you. Loki is a god. A literal god, and he’s here with you, aching just as much as you are.

Loki catches your lips in a deep kiss, one that muffles any sound you might make. He reaches between the two of you, under your panties and towards your aching core. You’re wet, ready for his fingers as they slip between your folds. Loki’s thumb circles your clit, and you yelp, biting down on his shoulder to lessen the noise. Loki chuckles, pulling away.

“No hiding, sweet girl.” he tells you, his voice deeper than usual. “Let it out.”

Loki enters you with a finger, barely giving you time to adjust before he adds another. It feels electric, and you rake your nails down his biceps. You feel the best you ever have before, thighs trembling and needing less but wanting more. Loki touches you in steady, planned out strokes. He curls a finger inside you, hitting your g-spot, and you feel yourself nearing the edge-

Loki pulls away, leaving you shaking as release is stolen from you. He puts his palm flat against your stomach, caressing you in a soothing way. It does nothing to ease your arousal.

With a wave of Loki’s hand, both of your bottom layers are gone, leaving the two of you completely exposed. It’s slighter colder, but the feeling soon fades as Loki begins peppering kisses to the insides of your thighs. He backs off every time he nears your heat, causing you tremble under each and every touch.

“Loki.” you pant. He looks at you with blown-out eyes. You feel like you might explode. “Loki, I...”

“What is it?” his tongue flicks out against your lips, and your hips jolt. Loki looks pleased, smirking. You clench your fists.

“Take me, Loki.” you say. You look at Loki, all of him, and see his erection. Loki’s cock is throbbing, red with precum. Your mouth waters. “Please.”

Pure emotion flickers across Loki’s face, and he reaches forward to brush a strand of hair from your forehead.

He lowers himself between your legs, his head teasing your entrance. You grip Loki’s shoulders, leaving little impressions of half-moons on his skin. You hope they last, your chest filling with pride over the idea of leaving any type of mark on Loki. 

Loki places soft kisses on the curve of your breast, murmuring against your skin. You can’t tell what he’s saying, but you respond to the light touch, goosebumps forming all over your body. Your heart hammers against your chest in anticipation as Loki teases you.

He thrusts his hips forward, entering you in one quick motion. You gasp, your back arching off the cushions. Loki takes the opportunity to wrap his arm under you, allowing for him to reach even deeper inside you.

Loki is unlike anyone else. You feel full, satisfied as your walls clench around Loki’s member. He occupies your whole being, moving in and out of you so gracefully one would think the two of you had done this many times before. Your sweat-sheened bodies seem to fit perfectly together, completely in sync and euphoric. Your vision blurs, and you see stars even though you swear your eyes are open.

The sounds of sex grow louder as the coils wound deep inside you and Loki threaten to snap. It’s you who orgasms first, brought on by Loki timing nips on your breasts with the movement of his hips. You come with a shout, clutching Loki while feeling too hot and cold at once.

Loki quickly follows suit, his body tensing and then going slack against you. He hides his face in your shoulder as he groans, spilling his seed inside you as you whisper praises in his ear.

Loki lays on top of you for a moment before he eases out of you. You feel hollow at his absence, but you can’t focus on the feeling long as aftershocks consume you.

Loki gathers you in his arms, coaxing you through them and pressing kisses into your hair, telling you how amazing you felt. You want to return the compliments, but Loki shushes you, tracing unknown shapes into your spine. 

You let your eyes rest and breaths stabilize, but it doesn’t take you long to crave Loki’s attention once more. You bump your nose against his, earning a laugh.

“I told you.” you say, but there’s no conviction in your voice. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the corners of Loki’s mouth forming a smile. 

“Yes,” he says. “Perhaps I did underestimate you.” the air stills. “But...” Loki’s nimble fingers creep down your figure. “It may be better if we make sure this wasn’t a single occurrence.”

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki smut #loki fluff #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson angst #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers smut #the avengers #the avengers x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel smut #smut #fluff #angst

[lemontwst]

— anonymous asked: Can we get uhhhh male mc topping azul, with a side of breeding kink and extra slutty azul? I just want that octo man begging for nut. Thank you in advance uwu

content warning: m!reader  |  mpreg, heat cycle, (light) degradation, mentions of voyeurism, azul being a needy bitch.

It's funny how some people are so disgustingly stubborn, clinging to their past with bleeding fingers even as the iron grows hotter and hotter under their touch and the chasm stretches deeper under their dangling feet.

Funny how, even as his heat renders him a mindless wreck, panting and shaking with anticipation as you finger his asshole, the only thing Azul can think of is that he won the game.

"Ah….(y/n)......" he quietly calls out to you, clinging to the edges of the table with nervous hands as he feels your long fingers slide in and out.

“That’s enough, I’m ready...” Azul spreads his ass for you in an uncharacteristic display of impatience. Fuck, he just wants you inside him already. He’s waited so long and fought so hard to be the one you fucked through this heat cycle—not Floyd, not Jade, but him, that having his prize so close and yet so far is driving him to the brink of insanity. 

You give his ass a little pinch and he squeals, embarrassment flashing scarlet across his cheeks. He has some nerve giving you orders when he’s the one laying on a table in the middle of his prized bar with his ass spread and his dick leaking. 

He was so impatient he didn’t even let you take him to the bedroom.

“Don’t come crying to me if this hurts, little idiot.” You stare at his cute little hole with mild disinterest on your face. It is stretched, and wet with his saliva, but it doesn’t look like it’s good enough, and you don’t really care about hearing an endless string of whines and complaints once Azul’s crazed brain comes off of whatever high his heat has sent it into and he realizes his ass hurts.

“I won’t, I promise, just—please…!” Azul is on the verge of tears, frustration almost taking his breath away as he struggles to keep himself from drooling like bitch in heat while you slowly take that cock he reveres like it’s a saintly relic out of your pants. You can be so cruel sometimes. So completely heartless in front of his desperate pleas and so enchantingly mean...

“Well…” you’re suddenly hovering over him, your hands on either side of his face and Azul stops breathing entirely. 

“...since you asked so nicely.” 

…

It’s too much. Your handsome smirk and that velvet-like voice, your eyes that burn with nothing but malice and a lust for destroying everything in your path... Azul is so in love, and he knows Jade and Floyd are too, which makes the way your cock teases his entrance that much more satisfying. 

And then you push inside with a single thrust and the pain that suddenly tears him apart is so mind-numbing Azul almost cums on the spot, eyes squeezing shut as he wraps his arms around your neck and locks his ankles behind you, pulling you closer to him until he can feel your strong heartbeat on his.

There’s something to be sad about the way you go slowly at first, like maybe you’re not all bad. Maybe you care about your lover’s well being, and maybe you want to ease him into a sweet, romantic rhythm fit for the kind of sex you’re having, the kind that leads to children being conceived.

But Azul knows better.

He can feel it in the way your hips slooowly pull back until you’re almost out of him, and the way your dick scrapes against his prostate when you slide back inside just as slowly. It’s agonizing. He’s in heat and you’re torturing him, planning to drag this out for as long as you can if it means getting Azul more addicted to you than he already is.

Fuck, he’s in love.

“Ah... please…" he places needy kisses on your ear, cheek and jaw, his slender legs pulling you closer to him but it's still not close enough—he doesn't have enough limbs to hug you properly so he greedily tries to keep you in place while he savors the hardness of your cock, "Harder-- do me harder (y/n), please…" 

You chuckle against his pulse point and Azul gasps loudly, frantically arching his body into yours, "Really, Azul? Even when I'm giving you my children?"

Shame pools in his stomach and it's delicious. Not like when he was bullied—no, this is something stronger, more vicious and intimate and it makes Azul blush all over with need.

"I'm—ah! So—sorry I'm a…" he pulls away, shaking so bad he has trouble moving, and looks into your eyes, glasses crooked and eyes blown with lust, "I'm a...useless octopus—slut!" His tongue lolls out when your hips snap back into his hard, his eyes dart to your lips and you know he wants you to kiss him so fucking badly, "I'm your—empty-headed—octopus bitch! Please hurt me more, master! Fuck me harder—please!"

... He's gotten so good at saying it just like you taught him. To think he was so shy at first! With how desperately his dick is throbbing and leaking at his own dirty talk you'd think Azul was born to say stupid, perverted shit like this.

His good behavior is aptly rewarded when you grab his arms hard enough to bruise and slam him down against the table, your thrusts picking up a ruthless rhythm that leaves Azul delirious.

He's a drooling, whimpering mess under you. The mixture of pain and pleasure shatters his consciousness into millions of pieces. It's not seeing stars, it's more. It's feeling everything at once at maximum sensitivity—your powerful, commanding scent, your sweat that drips on him and makes him want to lick it off like a pig, your hard cock that throbs with every heartbeat, lodged so deep in his ass he can feel it hit that special place that needs to be fertilized over and over again...

He's being bred like he was meant to. And it's you. You, you... you you youyouyouyou—

Azul cums with a high pitched whine that echoes across the lounge, loud enough to be heard from outside the room. His body stiffens and arches into you, elated at being pinned down in such a submissive position. His cum splatters against your abdomen and his, the action completely useless to his mother-like biology. His body is not made to give eggs, not even this inferior human shell he carries around.

It's meant to take them.

Azul slumps down, completely boneless. His eyes dazedly find the ceiling as he enjoys the feeling of coming down his high while still being fucked like a whore.

Tiny, delighted moans leave him as you continue to rail him, his tongue sweeps his lower lip as if he's tasting you in his mouth and he does his best to respond to your movements even though he's so utterly exhausted.

"Aah...it's.....coming…..." his eyes go down to where you two are connected and he sighs dreamily, "Shoot it all—inside me… ple—ahn! …..please make me your wife! I'll give you...ah….the best children…way better than Jade or...Floyd's…." He smiles a lewd smile, hearts in his eyes as his body jolts and recoils from the force your thrusts.

It's coming... it's coming….comingcomingcomingcoming—

Azul throws his head back and goes cross-eyed when you finally explode inside him, filling his tight passage to the brim with hot semen. His hole clenches around you instinctively and his entire body shakes with a dry orgasm as the foreign sensation of being impregnated pushes him over the edge again.

Finally...finally—

Azul chokes back a sob, feeling like he just touched the gates of heaven after a grueling climb up purgatory. Tears stream down his face as he shakily touches your forearms, hoping to be blessed with one of your hugs.

And he is blessed today—or maybe a part of you just took pity on him—when you roll your eyes and envelope him in your arms, laying on top of him in that way that makes Azul's submissive body tingle with delight and his legs spread to accommodate you.

...

“... I don’t think...once is enough…” his hug is borderline demanding as he keeps you inside him, making sure not to spill a single drop of your precious genetic material. “We have to...make sure…” he chuckles, the sound airy with exhaustion even as he tries to convince you to fuck him again.

“What if Floyd and Jade walk in?” You smirk against his neck, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next.

“Then let them watch. I won’t let anyone interrupt us.”

... He sounds so pompous and so incredibly possessive you can’t help but laugh.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #citrus #scenario #m!reader #hmmMMMM guess who's home babies!!!! #/smooches the blog/ i missed this silly place so much

[reptile-ruler]

The Great Assigning

Rapr week day 6: ROLESWAP.

Invaders Red and Purple are assigned their first mission by the delusional Almighty Tallest Zim.

Read on AO3.

The murmuring of the crowd sent flutters through Invader Red’s entire body. From the stage of the main hall on Conventia, the audience looked like a writhing ocean of swarming Irken soldiers. Thousands upon thousands of eyes watching them… and why? This event had come so suddenly, and he, among with his fellow Invader trainees, found themselves about to receive their first mission months before they even graduated.

It wasn’t his place to ask questions. The Almighty Tallest worked in mysterious ways. 

“Did you see the curly fries they had at the cafeteria?” Purple leaned in to ask, “I hope the Assigning goes fast because those fries smelled delicious.”

Maybe all the attention from the bustling crowd had dampened his appetite, or maybe it was just the nerves, but he couldn’t imagine wanting curly fries right at this moment. “We’re about to be assigned the mission of our lifetime, and you’re thinking about food?”

“Every moment without fries in my mouth is a moment lost, Red!”

He didn’t get much of a chance to argue, because at that moment the Announcer announced the arrival of the Almighty Tallest. They both straightened back into attention. All Invaders, and the crowd behind them, wiggled their antennae as pillars of flame exploded upwards, reaching the high ceiling, the heat feeling like a punch to Red’s cheeks.

A loud, grating laughter filled the hall long before he caught a glimpse of the Tallest. It originated from a platform descending from the ceiling and there he was. His armor was the same shade of pink as the Invader uniform (a signal of the empire he dreamed to build, perhaps, or maybe it just matched his eyes?) and both arms raised, his face split by the eye-crinkling grin that he carried.

“I think the flamethrowers are a bit much”, Purple whispered.

The Almighty Tallest overall was... a bit much. But they didn’t get to have an opinion about that. “Shush!”

“Just sayin’.”

Red shushed again, more violently, just as the platform reached the ground. The Tallest, of course, didn’t, floating in place high above his subjects. As he should, being the All-knowing and All-powerful, Almighty Tallest.

“My Invaders!” he spoke. “We finally meet. Be amazed by my tallness!”

They stood taught under his gaze as it wandered between them. Being the Elite of the Elite was one thing, but none of them were as superior as the Almighty Tallest. Not even Purple or he, who towered over their peers and were the Best of the Elite of the Elite. The Tallest wore a satisfied smirk, as though what he saw was to his liking. Red really hoped so–he’d worked his entire life to get here!

“As you may know you’re all here to be assigned your first enemy planet”, the Tallest said. That much was obvious. They were Invaders, it was their job! Or… should be, if they had finished training. “This shall mark the first step of Operation Impending Doom Two! My most brilliant plan yet! HAHAHAHA-”

Impending Doom… Two? Red had never heard of an Impending Doom One.

Purple must have had the same thought, because he couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “What happened to the first one?”

“Oh, I had to cancel Operation Impending Doom One”, the Tallest waved his hand around. “The Invaders weren’t good enough. Bunch of old squeedgers to the blarbsnortch, yup. Lame. They died from just one stomp with my Megadoomer.”

“What?” Red said, and immediately realized his mistake. 

“I had to stomp ‘em!” his Tallest said, looking more annoyed than anything. “Not good enough! But you… yes, you will not disappoint your Tallest Zim, will you?” A grin, one which made Red feel like he was prey being stared at by a predator, spread across his Tallest’s face. “No, you will not. I won’t allow it!”

Red glanced to his side to see how his co-Invaders reacted to this. He saw Purple’s throat bob as he swallowed, but even he seemed threatened enough to keep his big mouth shut. Of course, it wasn’t their place to question the Almighty Tallest, but…

He’d decided to personally kill the previous batch of Invaders. The world spun as Red searched his mind for reasons that they could have been dispatched. They couldn’t have been that much worse than the class currently standing on the stage of the Main Hall. In fact, those guys had actually graduated! 

While Red’s entire class had suddenly been rushed out of school to attend this Assigning… filling up the vacant slots. It all started to make sense now. 

The screen behind the Tallest lit up into a map, showing all known constellations and planets which were inhabitable or inhabited. Red recognized it immediately–he’d studied it every resting cycle for weeks to try to memorize which planets were marked for conquest and which ones weren’t. That was a test he was happy to not have to take. 

“THIS is how the Assigning is going to work!” the Tallest exclaimed. A table rose from the floor, and he picked up a small object from it. “I am going to throw this dart on the map, and wherever it hits, one of you is sent to conquer. Ingenious, right? Yes, it is, because your brilliant Almighty Tallest came up with it!”

No one argued, but Red could feel the desperation spreading across his classmates. This was ridiculous. 

Purple cleared this throat.

“My Tallest”, he began, head low and voice respectfully quiet, “I don’t mean to disrespect you, but can I ask why?”

A short beat of silence. It was enough for Red's brain to roar up with worst-case scenarios. The kinds of punishments Purple might endure for speaking up. What would he do if the only person he cared for got thrown into the depth of space? 

“Because I think it’ll be neat!” the Tallest grinned.

Purple didn’t press further. The Almighty Tallest’s smile softened for a bit, satisfied at getting his point across. 

“Step forward Invader Larb!”

And so Red watched the Invaders get assigned to enemy planets. Larb could barely hold back tears when he was assigned to Meekrob, despite having studied specifically the skills necessary to Invade Blorch or Vort. Skoodge was assigned to a sun, and when he pointed out that suns couldn’t really be invaded, the Tallest kicked him off the stage and laughed. Invader Tenn took it in stride when the dart landed on a planet that they actually had a peace treaty with. 

“Invader Purple!”

“Hoo boy”, Purple sighed as he stepped forward, leaving Red alone as the last unassigned Invader. 

The Tallest picked up a fittingly purple colored dart and inspected it, as though the dart itself held all the knowledge of the universe. Then he looked down at Purple and ficked it away. Not even looking at the map.

The dart hit the furthermost corner of the screen. Nothing existed even in the vicinity of that area. Purple stared at it. 

“There’s nothing there, my Tallest”, he said.

“Hm?” Zim looked over. “Oh, right. Well! Go there and conquer the nothing!”

“... How, sir?”

“Eh? Not my problem!”

Red felt nothing but sympathy as Purple nodded and stepped back. So it was his turn. His Tallest called for him and he stepped forward. Up close the height difference felt much more pronounced. He craned his neck upwards to salute, and forced himself to not avert his eyes as his Tallest judged him, looked him up and down like a megadonut on display at Plumpin’ Donuts on Foodcourtia. 

The Tallest reached for the table, but paused. “What? Where is my last dart?”

The table was empty, all darts apparently used, wedged into the digital map and no doubt ruining the screen. 

“Hey! Who planned this?” The Tallest looked around as though one of them were to blame. “Someone miscalculated how many darts I would need!”

The Invaders all shuffled. No one dared to answer, and, of course, none of them had been involved in counting enough darts anyway. 

The Almighty Tallest huffed. “Ugh. Useless. No matter! You!” He pointed at Red. ”Just go with the previous guy. Duo-mission. Yes. Crisis solved. By ZIM!”

Red blinked. Oh. He’d get to go with Purple. “Yes, my Tallest.” Before this Assigning, that would have felt wrong, but all things considered… it could have been worse. 

He could have been told to conquer a sun. 

His gaze wandered to the purple dart, placed right in a spot of dead space, with nothing for lightyears around it. At least he wouldn’t be alone. 

The Almighty Tallest concluded the Assigning with a few inspirational (or maybe delusional) words to the Invaders, and then to the soldiers in the audience. They were dismissed, and Red hurried up to Purple’s side as they walked straight to the curly fries stand.

“What a shipwreck!” Purple said. For once Red didn’t scold him for the borderline critique of their Tallest’s decisions. He just hummed.

Faced with the prospect of having to travel to the corner of known space, allegedly to ‘conquer’ it, while not having had the chance to even properly graduate… Red didn’t want to think about it. Hopefully the guy who sold fries sold drinks too, because he was going to need it, by Irk. 

Purple’s gloved fingers brushed past him, and he looked up. Ah yeah. That was the only upside, wasn’t it?

He’d have someone by his side.

@almightytallestevents

#invader zim #raprweek2021 #my writing #I wanted to make this scene for months!! and suddenly i was prompted to do so yayyy

[axther]

every second i get

in which Midoriya is forced to deal with his friends trying to get him and his crush together. 

for @patt-writes-stuff

Midoriya tried not to make regrets. 

This might’ve sounded strange, maybe obvious. But he took chances when he had them. He took the leap, hurtled off edges that others might’ve been worried about because he was finally able to do what he always wanted to. He put a thousand percent into everything he did. 

But this? This was some bullshit. 

Recently, as an example of goodwill, U.A. took in several exchange students from other countries. They were all valuable and magnificent in their own right, with talents that Midoriya could only awe at. One had the ability to rewind time under a full moon. Another could breathe underwater. 

But most of all, one could read minds. 

YN LN rarely used it, but it was said that there was a villain attack back at her own school, and she defeated them by only spamming their mind with cringy, outdated Ugandan Knuckles memes. It was funny, of course, but also incredibly powerful. Some mentioned that she was in the same boat as Shinsou, but she seemed to take it much better than he did. 

Oh, and she was cute. Really cute. 

Midoriya would catch peeks of her in the hallways, waltzing to her class with her books close to her and her eyes shining in the afternoon light. She always seemed to have someone at her side, talking softly with them, or maybe laughing loudly. But she was popular, kind, and strong.

Everything that Midoriya felt he wasn’t. 

Of course, he had friends. His quirk was certainly useful, though it had it’s drawbacks. But she was gentle and sweet. Even Bakugou tolerated her and didn’t give her a nasty nickname, which was definitely new. 

So when Mina waltzed up to him with a sneaky grin, he was worried. 

“Heyyyyy, Deku!” She tittiered, leaning on him in a way that was more than friendly but less than flirting. “You like YN, right?” 

“H-huh?!” Midoriya flushed bright red, flailing his arms comically as if to fend off the accusation. “N-no! I mean, she’s really nice b-but I totally don’t have a crush on her and I don’t want-er, really need to dater her, I mean if she asked I would say yes but I don’t have a crush and it’s really not-!” “We get the idea, loverboy.” Mina cut Midoriya off before he could ramble any more, and turned him around to see Sero talking with Denki and Todoroki. “Sero’s gonna have a party tonight. And guess who’s gonna be there~?” “Y-YN?” Midoriya’s flush went down, but barely. 

“You got it! All the transfer are going to be there, and we’re going to rope her into a game of truth or dare!” Mina cheered, but Midoriya recoiled. 

“Wait! What?!” “Yeah! And you’ll get to find out if she has a crush on you!” “What?!” Midoriya leapt away from her, bright red again, and gasping. “That’s-!” “We’re fuckin tired of seeing you pine, asshole.” Bakugou bit from his seat. “Either get your shit broken or date her. I don’t give a fuck.” “Oh, don’t lie like that!” Mina chastised him and swatted at his head, making him growl in response. “He does care! It was his idea!” “Shut the fuck up!” 

Midoriya felt nervousness crawl up his spine, a chill settling in his heart. What if he got publicly rejected? Oh god! What if she said she liked him? How would he react? Would he hug her? Thank her and bow? Kiss her, even? Oh my god! Kiss her?! What kind of response is that?! 

His mind was on overdrive, thinking in all caps and screaming at the top of his proverbial lungs. All sorts of scenarios played through his head, most of which were not meant for public consumption. It was pure chaos until he realised he was being shaken by Tsuyu grabbing his shoulders. It made his head roll around until he came to. “O-oh! Tsu! Sorry!” “It’s okay, kero.” She let go, pointing at her chin. “If this is how you act now, I wanna see how you act with YN in the same room.” “S-same...room…” “Shit, it’s happening again! Someone! Stop him!” 

Midoriya was a foot away from her. 

They were sitting on the couch together, with Denki between the two of them. The room felt like it was filled with lava; bubbling, hot, and too full. Every other second was spent glancing at YN, who was preoccupied with a game of twister that Jirou and Bakugou were fully absorbed in. They were practically doing aerobatics, growling at each other in a refusal to step down. The tension was climbing until one of Jirou’s ear jacks conveniently got under Bakugou’s hand and made him slip. It was almost artistic how she still stood where he fell, but in the end, Bakugou lost, and most of the class was willing to overlook the foul. 

And then came the dreaded truth or dare. 

For whatever reason, Sero brought a bottle, but spin the bottle was quickly shut down once everyone realised they would have to tape Mineta to the upside of the ceiling. They chose to tape him anyway, which led to some confusion on what they were going to play, but it remained truth or dare. 

The first to go was Ochako, who dared Tsuyu to smack Kirishima with her tongue. She did so and almost knocked him out, but he assured her he was fine and the game went on. Late into the night, borderline dangerous dares (“Hey, Bakugou, can you explode in your mouth?”) and embarrassing truths (like the time Todoroki froze over his own underwear and used Midoriya’s All Might underwear, which Midoriya found more mortifying than Todoroki did) were traded around, until it landed on YN for the first time all night. 

“Eh, YN.” Ochako murmured past the thirteen marshmallows in her mouth. “Do you hath a cruth on nnieeone?” “Huh?” YN tilted her head, crossing her legs with a bit of sass. “Now, isn’t that a bit…?” “Nobe!” Ochako chirped, her face splitting into a grin. “Anthwer!” “Ocha…” YN extended her hand, sighing. “I, well…” “You tho! You tho!” Ochako cheered. Midoriya didn’t realise he was on the edge of his seat until he almost fell off. “Thay it!” “Well, maybe…” She pursed his lips. “I can tell you he’s in this room.” Midoriya’s heart skyrocketed. In this room!? There was only him, and Bakugou, and Todoroki, Sero, Denki, Mineta, and Shoki and Tokoyami, Aoyama, Iida, Ojirou, Kirishima, Koda, Sato… Midoriya’s hopes plummetted. It didn’t narrow it down by a lot. 

“Yeah?! Who?! Who?!” “He has...a darker palette?” YN tapped a finger to her chin, trying to dance around the question. It cancelled out Denki, Bakugou, Todoroki, Sato, Ojirou, Aoyama, Koda, and kind of Kirishima if Midoriya squinted. 

“And he’s really smart, and does really well in class.” That definitely outs Kirishima and Sero. Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Aoyama, and Shoji weren’t exceptional in class, either. So all that was left was…

Midoriya’s brain stopped. It stopped fully in its tracks. 

All it left was him. 

It was like he did a mental stutter, the couch feeling like a rock and his hands feeling far too sweaty for his liking. He wiped them on his jeans, but they seemed to be just as sweaty as before. He swallowed. He slicked back his hair a bit. His eyes wandered. Every second felt far too long. 

“That’s not enough, YN.” Mina whined, tipping back so she was laying on the floor. “You have to tell tell us!” “Nah.” She reclined into her hand with a soft smile, blinking slowly. She seemed satisfied, despite the other girl’s begging for more information. Midoriya coughed into his fist, trying to regain his sensibility before slowly rising. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna head to bed!” “Whaaaatttt?” Mina crooned, leaning forward. “Why? Not even Bakugou has gone to bed yet.” 

“Shut up!” “I’m just tired,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, trying to edge away. Before he could, though, YN rose up and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to bed, too.” She smiled, nodding her head. “We need to get sleep while we can, right?” “Ughhhhhh,” Ochako groaned, finally swallowing the marshmallows. “Fine. But it won’t be the same!” 

“That sounds like a you problem.” YN sassed before walking past Midoriya, glancing at him when she passed. It was as intimidating and romantic as eye contact could be, and made his knees grow weak. 

“R-right.” Midoriya said, though no one asked him anything. “Sure.” “Huh? Dude, are you okay?” Kirishima leans over, but Midoriya just shakes his head as he watches YN walk away. “Y-Yeah!” He juts his thumb towards the hallway, wondering how long leaving was going to take. “I’m just...gonna go.” Before anyone else could say anything, he booked it until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He was panting, but less out of the running than it was nervousness. He kept looking behind him, like he was expecting one of his classmates to come barrelling at him. He turned a second corner, only to bump directly into YN. She had been standing, waiting there for him, with a deep stare. “Hey, Izuku.” 

Midoriya jumped, nearly hopping out of his skin at her gentle, quiet tone. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were bearing into him. 

“O-Oh! YN! Hi! Hey! I mean, uh, I thought you were going to bed.” He started backing away slowly until his back hit the wall. “Yeah. But I wanted to talk to you.” YN brought her arms up and promptly slammed them on either side of Midoriya’s shoulders, effectively trapping him between her and the wall. “You’re bright red.” “R-really?!” His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere, speeding around until they landed on her. Her brow was furrowed and her nose was scrunched. 

“Yeah. Say...do you have a crush on anyone?” She leaned in, eyes glancing down onto his lips before flickering back up. 

“M-maybe!” He squeaked, desperately trying to figure out how he should respond. Everything about this was something out of a manga, not real life. 

“You know…” YN leaned in again, this time not only looking at his lips but keeping her eyes on them. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you."

Midoriya felt his face flush again, then go cold, then flush redder than before. It was a constant rapture that seized him, lifting him up higher than he could ever consider. 

“What?!” He yelped once his mind caught up with what was going on. “Shh!” She hissed, putting a finger over her lips, which looked very cute. “You don’t want the whole dorm knowing, do you?” 

“Oh…” Midoriya wasn’t sure if he did want everyone to know, but YN kabedonning him made his brain keep on stuttering like a broken record. 

“Hey…” For a second, there was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you like me? All the girls say you do, but still…” 

“Yes!” Midoriya nearly shouted, jumping and almost bonking heads with YN. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Wait, really?” YN leaned back, surprise on her face. “I thought I was going to scare you off, or something.” 

“Not at all!” Midoriya started waving his hands, a happy flush growing on his face. 

“Then...do you wanna date?” “Yeah. “ He sighed softly. His eyes were wide and his heart felt like it had soared to the moon. The moment was pure ecstasy, and he couldn’t come down from this high.

“I would love that.” 

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha event #kabedon #shorter reader #pumping these mfs out even if it kills me

[hq-cuties-pls]

THE LOVE SCRATCHES SCENARIO WITH TSUKKI, SUGA, KAGEYAMA, IWAZUMI, AND AKAASHI? PLEASE AND THANK

We have decided to combine these two asks because there is a lot of overlap. Please enjoy the final hours before Haikyuu’s Return!~The Admins 

—–

Tsukishima: 

“Tsukki…” Yamaguchi shot him a wry smile from the other side of the club room. He nodded at Tsukishima’s back, indicating the mirror with a flicker of his eyes. 

“Oh, shit…” Tsukishima ran his hands over the deep, vivid scratches on his back. 

“You and ___ have a good time last night?” Yamaguchi shot him a wry look out the corner of his eye. His smile was borderline smug, and the way he ruffled his short bangs in the mirror was definitely an attempt to bait him. 

It worked. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he growled, yanking his practice shirt on with perhaps a little too much force. 

“Mm-hm.” Yamaguchi shrugged, taking a seat to wrap his sprained ankle. “Whatever you say.”

 Tsukishima had never been more thankful for getting in the habit to show up first for practice, because he didn’t even want to think about what Kageyama or Hinata would say about all this. He’d talked to you about it, but in the moment, when you were under him and arching beautifully and blissed out and delirious, well… let’s just say he was a little distracted. 

“When did you turn into such a shit?” Tsukishima tugged his shirt down as if in effort to further conceal his back, smoothing carefully over the tender bits. 

“Once I was made Captain. I never knew why Daichi-san and Ennoshita-san were the way they were. Now I know it’s less a sports team and more a colony of feral cats. But I’m getting used to it.” 

“That’s good.”

“Just like I’m getting used to you and ____ and evidence of you two getting frisky.” Yamaguchi kicked at his hip with his good leg. “Seriously, you need to cut it out. What if the children saw? What if Yacchan saw?” 

“If Yachi-san is in here, then that means someone has had a stroke and no one is paying attention to my sex scratches.” Tsukishima neatly dodged Yamaguchi’s attack. “Seriously, Yamaguchi, you need to stop with the protective Dad schtick. You’re worse than Sawamura-san.” 

Yamaguchi scowled; “Just for that, I’m encouraging Hinata to slap your back later. As hard as he can. And you’ll deserve it.” 

Suga: 

“BWAH! Su-suga-senpai! What… what happened?!” 

Suga absently followed Hinata’s gaze, reminded of the evidence of your weekend alone with him on his back. He shrugged, trying to pass off the minor wince of pain as one of his shit-eating grins; “Oh, nothing. A Kitten got to me, is all.” 

“A kitten?” Kageyama poked his head out of his sweater, looking almost comically innocent. Suga hated to ruin it… almost. “Did you get a cat, senpai?”

Suga shrugged, his smile sharpening as he fought the ugly cackles that threatened to come out; “You could say that…”

Daichi groaned; “Oh, my god, Suga, Kitten is ____’s pet name, isn’t it. Don’t you fucking lie to me, you pervert.” 

“Such language, Daichi!” Suga put his hand over his (bare) chest in a pretense of scandal. “And in front of the children!”

“Says the guy who came into practice with SEX SCRATCHES? Suga, we talked about this–no marks in front of the kouhai!”

Asahi chose that moment to chime in, rubbing at his eyes like he had a migraine coming in; “And there goes all pretense of plausible deniability.” 

Suga packed up his neatly-folded school uniform, zipping into his team jacket with a definitive and sharp movement; “Bold of you to assume I ever had deniability. Besides, I said nothing. Daichi’s the one who outed me as a deviant.” 

“You are a deviant.” Daichi shot a narrow look at him, even if whatever rage may or may not be coming from him was basically nonexistent. “Why are you like this?” 

“Have to maintain my status as the pretty one, don’t I?” Suga ran a hand through his bangs, checking the tiny mirror on the wall before sauntering out. 

“How did anyone ever think you were Karasuno’s angel?” Daichi called after him.

Suga answered with a shrug, followed by a wince–you’d really done a number on him, regardless of how satisfying it was to aggravate Daichi’s Housewife Instincts.

Kageyama: 

“Hey, Kageyama! Nice sex scratches!”

“Hm?” Kageyama peeked over his shoulder at the long, bright red scratches running down his back. He scowled. “Those aren’t sex scratches. They’re cat scratches.” 

“Oh wow, that was a weak excuse, even for you, King,” Tsukishima said, pushing his dumb sports glasses higher up his face. “Sure those are cat scratches, and Tanaka-senpai is top of his class.” 

“Oi!” It was Tanaka-senpai’s turn to scowl. “That sounded like disrespect, Tsukishima.” 

“It was disrespect, Tanaka, keep up,” Ennoshita-senpai added. 

“RIP Ryuu,” Noya said with a smirk. “Don’t mind, don’t mind.”

“I feel like we’re getting off topic,” Kinnoshita said. “Suga-senpai is going to be heartbroken he missed this.” 

“The baby is growing up.” Narita wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “Kageyama went and got himself laid all on his own.” 

“What…” Kageyama blinked, unsure why the conversation was steering in this direction. ‘Laid?’ Like… laid down? Like a nap? “I don’t… yeah, I laid down at ____’s house and that’s how Tama got me.”

“Tama?” Hinata tilted his head, looking a bit like Tama when you opened a can of tuna fish. “Is Tama your weird pervy nickname for ____?” 

“No! He’s ____’s cat, you idiot!” 

“Ah.” Yamaguchi shrugged. “Seems he’s sticking with the cat scratches story.” 

“They are cat scratches!” 

“Sure, sure.” Yamaguchi patted his back, which just hurt… like a lot. “Come on, Kageyama. Get dressed. We won’t bother you about your…ah… “cat scratches” again.”

Kageyama scowled as he watched his teammates file out of the club room. Why did no one believe him about his cat scratches!? He’d have to ask you about it later…maybe you understood why everyone was laughing about it.

Iwaizumi: 

He should have known better.

He really, really should have known better. 

He’d even thought about it last night–he’d made sure you didn’t leave any marks that would show above the neck of a t-shirt, and he’d made a mental note not to change with the rest of the team.

A mental note that he completely forgot about until he’d gotten his shirt of and Oikawa let out a shriek.

“I-IWA-CHAN! MY EYES!”He dramatically slapped a hand over his eyes, covering them. “My poor, virginal eyes! How could you–no, how dare you besmirch this sacred space with your sex scratches!”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, heaving a sigh and resigning himself to wait until Oikawa got it out of his system.

“Wait, sex scratches? For real?” Hanamaki said, and Iwaizumi groaned. Of course. Of course it wouldn’t be enough for Oikawa to see. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were like hounds on the scent, and once they got wind of it, they were never going to drop it. 

“Niiiice, vice-captain,” Matsukawa drawled. “She really got you good. Never took you for the kinky type, Iwaizumi.”

“MAKKI! MATTSUN! How dare you encourage this–this perversion in our sacred club room!”

“Ah, yes,” Hanamaki said, “The baked-in smell of sweat and dust. The pinnacle of sacredness, I’m sure.”

“The disrespect,” Oikawa said with a dramatic flair of his hand. “What about our kouhai, Iwaizumi? What kind of example are you setting for them?”

“D-don’t worry about us, captain!” Kindaichi said, though his cheeks and ears were bright, flaming red. “I mean, what Iwaizumi-senpai and ___-chan do in their spare time is none of our business, right?” 

“EXACTLY!” Oikawa shrieked. “None of our business. So he shouldn’t–shouldn’t make it our business by coming in here with his… his sex scratches!”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” Matsukawa said with a wicked grin.

“I–WHAT?! Mattsun, how dare you imply–I would never–I… you… GAH!” 

Oikawa, now red-faced himself, pulled his t-shirt forcefully over his head and stalked out of the room in a huff. As he left, he shouted over his shoulder–

“ANYONE NOT DRESSED AND ON THE COURT IN THE NEXT MINUTE IS DOING DIVING DRILLS!” 

Akaashi:

“Wow, Akaashi, your cat got you really good!” Bokuto said, staring wide-eyed at Akaashi’s bare back. 

Akaashi blinked twice, looking to the side and clutching his shirt in his hands. 

“Wait…”  Bokuto said, frowning. “You don’t have a cat. Did you get a cat?”

“N-no, Bokuto-san, I–”

“Oh! Does ___ have a cat?”

“No, she–”

“AKAASHI, WAS IT A STRAY?” Bokuto asked, grabbing Akaashi’s arms. “That’s really bad, you should go to the doctor! What if it had rabies?”

“Rabies was eliminated in Japan, like, 30 years ago,” Komi said, biting down a delighted smirk. “Don’t worry, Bokuto, I’m sure Akaashi is being safe. Right, Akaashi?”

“Y-yes!” Akaashi said, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh, so you went to the doctor?” Bokuto said.

Komi snorted into his fist, and Konoha slapped his hand against his forehead. 

“No,” Akaashi said, scrubbing a hand over his forehead. “Bokuto-san, there was no cat.”

“I–wha?”

“You see, captain,” Komi said, slapping a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, “when two people love each other very much…”

“It was ____, Bokuto-san. _____ left the scratches, okay?” Akaashi said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Now, if it’s alright, I suggest we start practice.”

Bokuto stared blankly for long enough that it became genuinely concerning. Akaashi could almost hear that weird, scratchy dial-up sound.

Konoha laughed; “I didn’t realize it was possible for a human being to Blue Screen, but wow, Bokuto continues to surprise.” 

A solid 15 or 20 seconds later, Bokuto exploded into the most brilliant blush ever seen in nature, sputtering dramatically as he tried to shove his head through the arm hole of his t-shirt. 

“Ah…” Komi said with a shrug. “And there he is. Really, Akaashi-kun, you should do something to protect his innocence. He isn’t ready for that.”

“My apologies,” Akaashi replied with a small smirk. “I’ll try to get ____ to be less…affectionate next time.”

Semi:

“I see you have been enjoying your… extracurricular activities, Semi,” Ushijima said in his usual near-monotone.

Semi stared back at him, his brow creasing. “I–I’m not in any other extracurriculars, though? Just volleyball. I mean–I am enjoying that, I guess?” He blinked in confusion, but Ushijima’s ever-stoic face gave nothing away.

“Eita-kuuun,” Tendou crowed, popping up over Semi’s shoulder. “I think Wakatoshi-kun was making a joke.” A catlike smirk spread across his face, and then one of his long fingers jabbed directly into the largest gouge you’d left in Semi’s back. Semi jumped, wincing at the pain, and then his eyes went wide.

“Oh–fuck.” Semi groaned, the memory of last night flooding back into his brain.

“Ahaha, there it is! Good for you, Semisemi. Make sure you put some ointment on those though, yeesh. Maybe tell ____ to trim their nails next time!” Tendou said before he pranced off to finish changing. 

Semi stared at Ushijima, who was–if he wasn’t very much mistaken–smirking. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi was smirking. 

“I keep antibiotic ointment in my bag, if you would like to borrow some,” Ushijima said simply, an almost-imperceptible twitch to his eyebrow the only indication he wasn’t utterly earnest. 

Oikawa: 

A low wolf whistle interrupted the typical chatter in the club room, causing everyone to fall silent. Matsukawa was leaning against the door wearing a wide, lecherous grin. 

“Wow, Captain, color me impressed. I really thought you were all talk, but you and ____-chan have been busy, haven’t you?”

It was clear what Matsukawa was talking about–Oikawa’s bare, pale back was ravaged, the bright pink of the scratch marks all the more stark against his fair skin. Oikawa blinked twice, his eyes going wide as saucers before he abruptly spun around, putting his back to the lockers.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mattsun–”

“Well, Captain,” Hanamaki interrupted, “it would seem ____-chan has left some rather impressive marks…”

“THERE ARE NO MARKS,” Oikawa screeched, his face going as pink as the scratch marks curving over his shoulders.

“Come on, Captain,” Matsukawa drawled, “just yesterday you were bragging about you and ____’s escapades.”

“A gentleman doesn’t tell, Mattsun,” Oikawa said, his voice wavering as he sidled awkwardly along the wall. 

“Funny, because they say a picture’s worth a thousand words,” Hanamaki interrupted with a devilish grin, brandishing his phone. “And this one’s got plenty to say.”

“MAKKI!” Oikawa shrieked. Hanamaki darted out of the club room, and Oikawa lunged after him–still dressed only in his track pants. 

“Three… two… one…” Iwaizumi counted down under his breath, and right on cue a chorus of girlish screams broke out outside the club room, followed by Oikawa dashing back inside and slamming the door behind him. He fell forward against the wall, his head hitting the locker with a metallic thunk. 

“My life is over,” he moaned dramatically. 

“There, there,” Iwaizumi said, patting him firmly on the back right where the scratches were worst. “At least you had pants on.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #suggestive content #tsukishima kei #kageyama tobio #iwaizumi hajime #akaashi keiji #semi eita #oikawa tooru #sugawara koushi #sfw

[snesdudes]

28 dates with Unit Bravo

Day 2: INTERRUPTION

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Alice Santos)

Warnings: +18!! This gets filthy, minors dni. Basically pure smut. Alice wants to test Mason's patience. Needy, messy Mason.

Words: ~1.3k

☾ 一一一一一一一一一 ☽

It had started when Alice had assured she had a plan in the middle of a mission and Mason chose to rush and attack instead of fucking listen to her. He had of course managed to neutralize the rogue supernatural in a couple of minutes, throwing a smirk at her through his long strands of hair.

But Alice was not happy.

Now, he followed her movements from his place in the bed, wrists handcuffed to the headboard, completely exposed to her. He still looked wolfish, as if he was the predator instead of the prey, for once.

"You gonna come over here, sweetheart?" He asked, his ragged breathing making her grin widen, her back to him as she lit a candle. She had wanted to blindfold him as well, but he had a point when he said his senses were already sharp enough as they were. And he could know where she was without seeing her anyway.

"See, that's exactly what we're working on here." Alice replied with a click of her tongue, throwing him a glance over her shoulder. "Your patience."

"I think my patience has been tested enough already." He grumbled, eyes falling to his own erection, which had been there, practically untouched, for half an hour. She had kissed him mercilessly, she had bit and licked almost every inch of him, she had occasionally brushed a hand between his legs.

And she had ridden his face for at least ten minutes, before lapping away the signs of her arousal from his mouth and chin.

He was about to fucking explode.

Alice shrugged, her naked body approaching him with the candle on her hand, and fuck he had never wanted anything more than he wanted her in that exact moment. She rolled her lips together, watching his eyes traveling up and down her body, and saw him twitch against his stomach. The smile she gave him was borderline sadistic before she slowly gave him a twirl, showing herself to him, getting a growl from him.

"I'm gonna fucking break your handcuffs."

"Oh, please do." She chuckled, straddling his waist, making sure she was not touching his stiff length with any part of her body. "But if you do, the only one touching your dick is gonna be your hand."

He threw his head back in frustration, hips pushing upwards unconsciously, a groan falling from his lips.

"You want me to beg? Is that what you want, dimples?"

She shook her head, red hair tousled and eyes bright with lust. "No need, freckles." She smirked down at him, starting to tip the candle to his chest.

He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the burning sensation, but when the liquid hit his chest it was… warm. Nice. He raised an eyebrow at her. "It's not wax. Just massage oil." She explained, leaving the candle on the nightstand before her hands found his chest.

He was shaking his head with a chuckle. "You can't be mean even when you're trying to get all domme on me."

She huffed, raking her nails down his chest softly, relishing in the way he groaned out loud, back arching away from the mattress. "I'm not getting all domme on you. I'm just checking you're actually capable of being patient."

"C'mon, it all ended alright." He argued. "You have to-ooohhh…" She had lowered her hips against his, rubbing herself against him in a torturous slow motion. "Fuck, fuck, keep doing that, keep…"

But she had raised her hips again, focusing on massaging his shoulders, chest, down his abdomen. The smell of vanilla invaded his nostrils and if she wasn't there it would have been too strong.

"You were saying? I have to what exactly?"

"Do that again."

"Oh, now you're giving orders?"

She pulled back, sliding down his body and he could have screamed when her breasts came to rest over his crotch. "Just stay there. Stay there." And his hips started rocking against her heavy boobs, once, twice, three times, and she pulled back. He swore out loud, throwing her a venomous stare. "You're gonna pay for this, you know that, right?"

Her smile was almost sweet. "I'm counting on it, sunshine." Her hands were on his hip bones, massaging gently, deft fingers travelling then to his thighs, up and down and to the tender skin inside them.

"You will… fuck… you will be a fucking mess when I'm finished with you."

"Just like you are now?"

He growled and for a moment she thought he was going to break the handcuffs. He was a vision - long hair spread around his face on the pillow, some strands sticking to his neck and forehead where a sheet of sweat had formed. His chest was heaving, his tan skin shiny with the oil and flushed under his endless freckles, his arousal heavy against his abdomen. It was testing her own patience as well.

A fingertip started moving up his thigh and his breath hitched, stormy eyes following the motion. She caressed up and down his sensitive skin, from hilt to tip.

"Alright, al-god-right!" He surrendered, staring at her half angry, half impressed. "Next time I'll let you speak, we'll do it your way."

She licked his lips and Mason almost whimpered - whimpering, him. This woman was a menace. "Thank you, baby."

When her tongue made contact with his length he moaned so loud he was sure the whole fucking building had heard him. But he didn't care, her lips were wrapped around him and her head was bobbing and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his spine arched towards her glorious mouth.

She felt his fingers threading through her hair and she looked up to discover he had broken the handcuffs, apparently not even realizing, his other hand wiping the sweat out his upper lip as he stared at her, entranced as she worked her magic.

"Fuck, Allie, you are - ah, shit - you are so fucking good at that." She released him with a wet sound and looked up at him when he pulled her hair. "Come up here. Come closer."

The desperate tone of his voice was the most erotic thing she had ever heard, followed close by the throaty moan he breathed against her mouth when he pinned her to the bed and entered her in one swift thrust.

"See?" She gasped, his body covering hers as he pounded into her, his tongue tasting the salty sweat of her neck, teeth biting down, her nails digging into his shoulders as her hips raised to meet his relentless pace. "Patience… can be… oh, fuck… rewarding."

He chuckled against her neck before his lips found hers in a sloppy kiss. "I can't believe I let you torture me like that."

She laughed as well, pushing his shoulders so they rolled together and she was on top, slowing down the pace as she rode him, her curvy body undulating on top of him. "What you can't believe is that you liked it that mu- oh!"

His thumb was pressing against her core and she shuddered, palms flat against his chest, and he memorized the look on her face, her flushed skin, wild curls, lip trapped under her teeth…

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

The two of them froze, just in time for Mason to hear someone clearing their throat at the outside of the front door of her apartment. And a steady heartbeat he recognized instantly.

"It's Agent Santos." He panted, hands on her hips.

"My mother?!" She exclaimed, certainly the kind of words she didn't want to say with someone inside her. The knocking sounded again, this time louder. "Fuck, okay." She cursed under her breath as she got up and hurried to put on her discarded panties and an oversized t-shirt, trying to brush her hair down with her fingers. "I'll go get rid of her."

Mason watched her with an amused smile, his naked body stretching luxuriously on her sheets. The broken handcuffs tinkled as he crossed his arms behind his head.

"I'll wait for you here. I know how to be patient, after all."

She had to go back to place a quick peck on his lips. "That's my good boy."

She hurried away, giggling at the satisfied smirk on his face.

#well well #so this happened #and let me tell you #needy mason being a mess might be a new kink of mine #28dwub #28dateswithunitbravo #28 dates with unit bravo #mason x mc #agent mason #mason x detective #twc mason #twc m #twc #m x mc #m x detective #mason x alice #the wayhaven chronicles #detective alice santos #wayhaven detective #agent m

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Heyo! Can we have the nsfw hc's for Daigo's bfs? :3€ thank you in advance!!

Of course you can, my dear c: Apologies in advance for my very strong bias for my fav boy Mine, but I’ll try to be fair to everyone ^^; 

Ryuji Goda: 

Ryuji and Daigo have that classic enemies-to-lovers friction. That gloating victory, that simmering hatred melted away into physical attraction. So, at first, they’re all rough touch, biting and snapping and grabbing. No tenderness, no gentleness. But over time, this would cool to lazy ego-stroking and pampering. A knowing fondle, a smug tease. 

Ryuji is the world’s laziest dom. I’m sorry, but he’s got a little too much of that “I’m king god and I know it” going on to put in effort most of the time. Oh, he’s happy to order you around and have you worship him, but he’s not going to make your job easier or even praise you too much for doing it, unless it’s to mock you. This isn’t to say that Ryuji’s mean, necessarily, just that he’s smug and everything’s about him. 

If he ever gets around to actually fucking you and not insisting that you get him off in a way that does nothing for you, he will put in effort doing that. After all, he’d be unworthy of his exalted status if he couldn’t actually back up his claims. So he makes a point of fucking people good and hard, in a way they’ll remember. And he even makes it a point of personal pride that you enjoy it, even if that means he has to be gentle. Being strong enough to be gentle is still strength, after all. And you’ll hate him just a little bit more for the fact that he can make you feel nice and you like it. 

Daigo certainly hates his smug face about it. 

But the real trick is if you can get Ryuji on his back. He’s a whimpery baby when it comes to bottoming. He’s inexperienced taking it, but does enjoy it, which puts him in an awkward position, having to listen to someone else for a change. Suddenly it’s “Oh, be gentle with me!” and “Wait, slow down!” and not quite knowing what he wants anymore. It takes patience to get that far with him, but Daigo certainly think it’s worth it. Ryuji’s got an ass that won’t quit and driving into that self-congratulating asshole, no pun intended, is delightful. 

Daigo prefers a more generous environment than Ryuji, but Ryuji’s stuck-up pride is appealing as a target to launch yourself at. And it is flattering that Ryuji won’t fight with you in the first place if he doesn’t think you’re worthy. It is a little warming in itself to have his attention. 

In a long-established relationship, Ryuji’s pride would lose its edge, he wouldn’t feel quite so desperate to prove himself. So his teasing would be more fond and soft, less biting. Daigo would grow in confidence, able to rebuff Ryuji a bit better and lead him around if need be. Daigo sparks under Ryuji’s overbearing dominance, but only when Daigo’s trying to be dominant. Daigo’s happy to receive most of the time. It’s more the way Ryuji comports himself that is the issue. But Daigo would relax over time too, seeing Ryuji soften and open up. They could learn to be tender with each other, rather than only mock and sneer.

Mine Yoshitaka: 

Fucking Mine is like driving a brand new Ferrari. It’s very sharp, very fast, very expensive. It’s beautifully designed. But it wants to be doing everything at 200 mph when most of your life is, at best, at the 60 mph speed range. And you know it’s going to break. You don’t know when, you don’t know where, but the thing is so fucking temperamental and insistent about going 200 mph that it’s just going to break, there’s nothing you can do about it, and you’ll have to get it repaired. That’s what fucking Mine is like. 

Mine is an entire goddamn disaster. He’s SO hot and SO fucking on fire. 

There is absolutely no way on earth Mine had ever fucked anyone before Daigo. Come on. Think about it. He’s very pretty but... psychotic. And also convinced that other people are, I don’t know, dust mites. Is fucking you going to get Mine power? No? Then why the fuck are we still talking? 

So no, Mine never fucked anyone, may not have even been interested in sex at all before Daigo. 

But he’s... oh god, he’s gotta be The Best at Everything. You can see where this is going. 

Mine’s SO DESPERATE to prove how good he is at sex, how willing, how flexible, but he’s instantly overwhelmed by everything and we have to scale back his insane plans to... how ‘bout we hold hands in bed for awhile, okay? Maybe your blood pressure will go down some. 

Daigo has to, somehow, contain Mine’s insane need to please and be The Best while also convincing him that it’s okay to take things one step at a time and slow down sometimes. He has to hold his hand through everything and show him, literally, all of the steps. Just kissing might paralyze Mine for a day, to say nothing of removing clothes or touching each other. 

That’s okay, Daigo can be patient. Apoplectically insane doesn’t do it for everyone, but... there’s something charming, for Daigo, in the way that Mine will absolutely break if you’re cute to him, if you’re nice to him. It’s so little effort for Daigo to be nice, and he gets SUCH a response in return. That alone is satisfying. It’s okay that Mine needs to move inches at a time or he’ll explode. It’s okay that every little thing sets Mine off, it’s kinda adorable. As long as you can be patient and don’t have to look after him every second, it’s actually pretty functional. 

After a lot of coaching and patience, their first time is... still a total disaster. But no one had to go to the hospital and Mine only wound up crying for an hour, so Daigo’s taking this as a good sign. 

Slowly, after a lot of therapy and socializing him with other people, Mine calms down. Over time, Mine can become functional and even very skilled. As Mine would never accept “adequate” for anything. And Daigo can’t fault him for his ambition and discipline even if it is... terrifying to watch how fast he develops. 

After the initial volcano of embarrassment and feelings of panic and unworthiness, once he finally fucking calms down, Mine becomes flawlessly competent. Daigo’s actually little worried that Mine could get him off in three strokes if put to it. He’s careful to absolutely never under any circumstances ask Mine to demonstrate. 

And Mine’s own desires grow apace with his skills. Mine’s main kink is endurance. He’s sort of similar to Majima’s exhaustion and over-stimulation gambit, but it’s a little different. Majima wants to be fucked until he can’t think anymore. Mine wants to prove his stamina, he wants to be the greatest physical specimen possible. So marathons are truly his thing. Daigo struggles to keep up. 

Fortunately, Mine is an absolutely mewling bottom, hungry for any attention. He wants to be stretched to his limits whenever possible, pushed to the utmost, but he’d never forgive himself if Daigo isn’t also enjoying himself. He learns to balance the two, to make sure Daigo is having a good time and not ask... more than is humanly possible. 

Even so, fisting is not out of the question for him and Daigo has, on occasion, worn a cock sheath. Mine’s a bit of a size queen. Again, the stamina thing. He’s... he’s insatiable in almost all possible ways. 

Mine will also gladly fuck Daigo! He has never refused a request from his one and only beloved and he never will. But Mine has no impulse to dominate. He doesn’t need to prove anything, he already knows he is the best there is, and he doesn’t need to serve to derive his sense of purpose and meaning. He will serve, but it is only to make Daigo happy. His pride is taken from how happy he can make Daigo, rather than anything about the act itself. His intense attention is borderline unbearable, but Daigo has gently coached him into where to direct his attention and how much intensity is needed. Mine is a ready and willing student, trying hard to be the right amount of too much, rather than monstrously too much. So he’s always excited to be ordered by Daigo and do what he likes. Daigo, for his part, has never been disappointed. 

Daigo, despite the incredible emotional and physical exhaustion of fucking Mine, does enjoy it. Mine does push him to his limits and asks for so much, but... the loopy, satisfied smile on Mine’s drained face when he finally lays back, when he’s at last loose and pliable... it fills Daigo with such a sense of satisfaction and pride and love. Whenever Daigo doubts himself, whenever he’s unsure, he remembers that the most perfectionist man on earth is head-over-heels in love with him and begs to be fucked every night... nothing comes close to being that kind of ego trip. And Mine is even genuinely reassuring when Daigo needs that too. 

It’s a disastrous beginning and it’s rough and rocky for awhile, but... in time, their dynamic becomes a smooth beat-counterbeat of lust and confidence, doubt and reassurance. They support each other in their weak spots and they love each other for it. 

Shinada Tatsuo: 

Shinada is like a breath of fresh air after the work of those last two. He is neither on fire nor selfish. A welcome relief for Daigo, if he fucked the last two. Finally someone he doesn’t have to put in all the work for. 

Shinada is the definition of easy going. Whatever you want to do, he’s up for it. And with his predilection for sex workers, safe to say he’s not a virgin by any means. No awkward hand holding with him. 

Shinada is not much of a dom, way too lackadaisical to take charge, but he is very warm and giving. So if Daigo just wanted to be taken care of today, he’d do his best to comply. He doesn’t have Mine’s intensity or stamina nor Ryuji’s forceful personality, but he’s sincere and generous and that goes a long way. 

Shinada is far more willing to be acted upon though. He’s lazy in the exact opposite way of Ryuji. Shinada would love to be fingered and fucked and taken care of, while putting in very little effort to achieve this. He’s happy to receive your energy and fierce determination. And at this point in Daigo’s life, sometimes he needs to take charge, just for the sense of control over something. Shinada’s got no problem with that and it’s reassuring and satisfying to know that Shinada’s happy with whatever you have to give him. Not having to put in a major effort or think about what will make him happiest makes Daigo’s job a lot easier. 

Not to say that Daigo wants to just use Shinada and leave him. Daigo’s very kind and cuddly with Shinada, eager to appreciate him simply because he’s so low effort. Shinada thinks it’s cute the way Daigo tries to pamper him. 

Daigo does sometimes push Shinada for more, ask him to go harder, to be rougher, but it isn’t really in Shinada’s make up to be forceful and intense. He’s up for anything so he never blinks if Daigo asks for something a little unusual or wants to experiment with something new, but at the same time, there’s no drive in him for any particular thing. 

Shinada’s main kink is hands, using his hands or hands being used on him. Hands are still his best method of communication, still dexterous and tactile, even if he’s out of practice these days. Also toys, strangely. He loves self-service toys or partner toys. They take some of the effort off of any one person to perform a certain way while still making sure everyone’s satisfied. No much ruffles him, but he will get a little blushy if you praise him a lot.

Daigo... loves to be taken care of. But also likes to fuck people into whimpery piles. He’s just so tired at this point. Sometimes he misses Ryuji’s demands or Mine’s intensity. But right now, he likes taking it easy with a sweet, pretty boy who like to lay in the sun and do nothing. He’s easy to pamper and his eyes go wide for just a little love and care. Daigo likes making someone happy and not having the fear that it will all go horribly wrong all too soon. 

Shinada sees him get sad sometimes and hugs him close, murmurs gently and keeps their hands close. He doesn’t mind that Daigo’s hurt and has been through a lot. He’s happy to be with him now and to make him happy in whatever ways he can. 

#Ryuji Goda #Mine Yoshitaka #Shinada Tatsuo #Dojima Daigo #Daigo's boyfriends #Yakuza #ask Lemon #Anonymous

[soldatbarnes]

Just Pretend

Summary: You wake in the night, desperate for your ex. You tend to your needs, not knowing he was just as desperate next door. 

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1466

Warnings: Smutty. Female and Male masturbation. Vaginal sex. Voyeuristic? Angst

A/N: Hello! It’s been a long long time. And this isn’t even new! I found this old smut fic, when looking through my files and thought that I may as well post it! (This is inspired by the song Just Pretend by Emily Kinney, but is NOT a song fic) 

You woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, body feeling tingly from lack of sleep. Your dream was so vivid. It was of HIM. It was quick, it was sloppy, and it was hot. Even though it was a dream you could still feel the way his fingertips felt grazing over your body, his lips ghosting over yours, never actually touching. The nightshirt you were wearing clung to your body from sweat, and you could feel the wetness that pooled between your legs. 

You shook your limbs out, knowing that you had an early morning the next day, and attempted to fall asleep. You felt frustrated and awake. You knew that You wouldn’t be able to find rest until your body was satisfied. It was the same when he would lie next to you, only this time you were alone. 

Pressing your thighs together you tried to relieve some of the ache, knowing that it wouldn’t work. It had been so long since he had touched you, and with him gone, you hadn’t felt like this in months. His leaving was enough to tear your drive away. You sighed falling onto your back. 

Thinking back to the dream, you guided your hands up and down your body the way that he used to. Fingertips grazing over your thighs, down towards your core. You slipped a finger through your folds, adding a slight pressure to your clit before continuing your hands’ path upwards.

You lightly touched the sides of your breasts, the peaks hardening in anticipation. You cupped them both of them in your hands, squeezing before tugging gently on your nipples. You let out a moan as you remembered what his mouth felt like. The way he would lick, suck and nibble. Always gentle. Your left hand stayed, while you brought your right one back down to your pussy. You dipped back down to once again add pressure to your clit while you thought back to the dream. 

You had just climbed into  bed when you heard a knock on the door. You shouted for them to come in and you looked up to see Bucky closing the door quietly behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. He hadn’t spoken with you in a few weeks. Not since he ended things. 

“Doll, don’t start.” he huffed out, walking further into the room. 

“What do you mean ‘don’t start’!” you yelled, picking up a pillow from your bed and throwing it at him. “YOU left me!! YOU called things off! You can’t just come in here. And you REALLY can’t tell me what to do!! So I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here??” 

“You really want know??” His expression was serious, borderline angry. There was something underlying that you couldn’t read.

“Bucky just spit it out so you can leave and I can try and get some damn sleep.” you grumbled. 

He had broken up with you a few weeks before. You were fighting all of the time, him being nonchalant about everything, and you caring “too much”. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get things figured out. You thought it was probably for the better because you were the only one actually trying. He avoided confrontation like his life depended on it. 

“I’m horny.” You stared at him in shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me?? You came here because you’re horny? I can’t fucking believe you.” You rolled your eyes, and whipped the other pillow at him. 

“No, I’m not fucking kidding. You’ve been walking around in practically nothin’ for days and it’s making me crazy.” 

“It’s none of your business Buck. Go the fuck back to your own room and rub one out.” You stomped over to him and pinched his arm, causing him to tense and make it easier to shove him towards the door. He must have realized what you were doing because he suddenly stopped, standing up to his full height. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He turned to face you, his chest pressing up against yours. He reached a hand out, and lightly grazed his fingertips across and up your arm, causing goosebumps. You shivered at the touch. 

He placed your hands on his lower abdomen, before reaching up to grab your face. You glared at him the best you could, but you missed him. Desperately. Although you would never tell him. His scent was intoxicating, a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla filling your senses. His body wash. You closed your eyes at the thought of the last time you saw him in the shower. 

You thought about the water dripping down his neck from his hair, settling into the grooves of his abdomen. 

You bit your lip, trying not to moan, as you ran your hands up and over his chest, before bringing them to his neck. Opening your eyes, you saw his staring back at you, pupils blown. Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you pulled him into a heated kiss. Nobody could work your body like Bucky could, and you felt like you would be a fool to deny him. 

Nothing about the kiss was innocent and within seconds his hands were all over your body. He touched you like he was trying to memorize every curve. After a few minutes he threw you onto the bed, before climbing on top of you.

 He settled between your legs, both of you still fully clothed, and ground his hips into yours. Wrapping your legs around him, you found yourself shamelessly grinding yours back. The feeling of how hard he is enough to practically get you off, especially with how long it’s been. 

Wasting almost no time, you quickly helped one another shed your clothes, tossing them anywhere in the room. He placed wet kisses down your neck and chest, further setting your body on fire. He moved down to your breasts, taking the left one in his mouth, licking and sucking, before moving to the right one. Where his mouth wasn’t his hands were, running over your stomach, down to your dripping core. 

You jolted when his metal digits came in contact with your swollen clit. It took everything in you not to cry out already. It wouldn’t take long, for either one of you. He sat back on his knees, looking over your body, and you glanced down at his thick member. Pre-cum was leaking from the tip, and you watched as he ran his hand up and down a few times. 

“James.” You croaked. He didn’t need to be told twice, flipping your body over roughly. Seconds later he entered you, without hesitation and pushed all the way in. 

You groaned at the fullness. He waited no more than a minute before he began to move. He let out a growl, before his thrusts became faster, pushing you down into the mattress. You moved your body the best you could in time with his thrusts. The room was silent except for moans, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. 

“I feel you clenching.” he breathed, and he was right. You were so close. By now you were so wet you were surprised that he could even stay in. He reached forward, his hand once again playing with your clit. He timed his movements together, and you felt as if you were going to explode. 

You were bucking your hips up off the bed, the fingers of your right hand hitting your sweet spot with every move, the fingers of your left working against your clit. Thinking about what it felt like to have Bucky deep inside you soon had you going over the edge, his name falling from your lips. 

Bucky grunted, as he listened to you from his side of the wall. He had just got back from the gym when he had heard your small moans, knowing exactly what you were doing between the sheets. He was listening to you bring yourself closer to release, every sound spurring him on as he began to work his cock with his hand, trying to go along with the pace you were setting for yourself. 

He was beyond ready to go in there and beg for forgiveness. He would think about that again another time. He could hear your voice getting pitchier, and he focussed on the way you would feel, all tight and wet, and he almost blew right there. 

He finally felt himself go when he heard his name, over and over. The thought of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him making him cum all over the place. He sighed deeply, throwing his head back. He wasn’t worried about it. He just wanted to go to you. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

[tonks32]

Prompt “I Swear to the Maker”

Aiden Trevelyan x Cassandra

  Raised voices had Dorian stopping along the walkway that connected to the outer walls and frowning. Once again, the Seeker and Inquisitor were in another heated argument. The occupants of the Keep were all stopped, watching eagerly as the pair traded barbs while the space between them began to shrink with each passing moment.

    “I swear to the Maker, Trevelyan,” Cassandra snarled at the rogue. “If Corypheus doesn’t end up killing you in the end, I just might.”

    Dorian watched as Aiden snatched the Seeker by the arm, dragging her until their faces were mere inches apart. Merthin, the ever-faithful hound, pranced alongside them not sure who to protect. The mage leaned against the parapets wondering if this would be the moment that the heat radiating between them would catch fire and they would finally realize that the constant bickering was a by-product of their denied attraction. Much to Dorian’s dismay, Aiden worked his jaw, fighting against the words that were surely burning in the man’s throat before allowing Cassandra to jerk from his grasp and stalked away towards to forge. Merthin looked up at the rogue than to the Seeker before the hound decided Cassandra needed him most and trotted after her. The gathered crowd was equally disappointed as they continued with their day.

     Swaying in the middle of the courtyard, Aiden clenched and unclenched his hand. A fire surged in his veins, one that he couldn’t name or truly understand. The Seeker always found a way to get under his skin, driving to the brink of madness with frustration. They never could seem to have a civil conversation, even after a season and a half of constant battles and travels. They fought seamlessly on the battlefield, saved each other’s lives countless times, but a simple conversation would always turn heated until it was borderline hostile. The only time they had been completely civil to one another was when he went through withdrawals from stopping his drug habit after the destruction of Haven.

    What was it about Cassandra that constantly pushed his buttons?

    Dorian watched Aiden a moment and could almost see the question swirling in his head. “Another squabble with our feisty Seeker, I see.”

    Aiden’s glowing blue eyes snapped to the mage. “It seems that your eyes and ears are working perfectly, Dorian.”

 “Trevelyan.” Dorian stepped in the Inquisitor’s path. “Do you honestly not know what causes you two to quarrel so much?”

    “She finds fault in my leadership.” Aiden crossed his arms over his chest, scarred face filled with anger once again. “Or at least that is was this reason this time.”

    The mage shook his head and did his best to remind himself that Aiden’s upbringing made him sheltered than most. Used for the pleasures of other and discarded like a used toy left the man severely lacking in most social situations. “I assure you that is not it, my friend.”

    “What are you getting at?”

    “It’s quite obvious that you two are attracted to each other.” Dorian watched the Inquisitor jolt as if he was just bashed over the head. Patients, Dorian reminded himself as he took a step back for good measure. “There is a heat between you that burns whenever you are within eyesight of each other until it explodes pulling you two together.”

    Shaking his head, Aiden tried to understand what Dorian was saying.

    “Everyone can see it,” Dorian pressed on hoping to breakthrough. “Everyone, but you and the Seeker. It’s more than just heat that is coursing through you. It’s lust, desire. Need.”

    “No,” Aiden argued, heart racing in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   “I can’t imagine you do know personally what I am talking about but trust me I am speaking the truth as I’ve experienced it many times in my life.”

    Stunned, Aiden mulled over the mage’s words as he thought back to the very first meeting with the Seeker. He remembered there was an ache, a yearning while she snarled and snapped at him demanding an answer about the explosion at the Conclave. Something that he had never truly felt before given the circumstances of his past. Over time that yearning turned into a gnawing, a hunger that could never seem to be satisfied.  “But… That’s… I don’t know…” Was he capable of being attracted to someone? To want them for pleasure? Outside of his years of slavery, he’d only engaged in sexual acts to prove to himself that the monsters didn’t completely destroy him. That he still had control over his body. There hadn’t been much of this heat that Dorian was speaking of. It was purely mechanical. “I don’t think I am capable.”

    Dorian’s heart ached knowing that the horrors of Aiden’s past scarred more than just his body. “Tell me and be honest. What do you feel when you’re around her?’

    “I feel…” Aiden thought for a moment and found he didn’t have the words.

    So, Dorian spoke for him, “You feel revied up. Heart pumping and jittery. You find yourself wanting to be in her presence even though most of the time it ends in bickering.” He saw the recognition in the rogue’s glowing blue eyes. “There is an ache in your stomach but it’s not for food. You thirst in you but not for water. You burn from just the mere thought of her.”

    Working his lip between his teeth, Aiden turned, shoved a hand through his thick mane of hair and let it all sink in. Even if this was all true, that he could be attracted to someone, could he capable of acting on it? The physical aspect of touching someone left a sour taste in his mouth. Yet, now, thinking of touching Cassandra made his heart pound. Aiden found himself curling his hands into a fist to ease the ache the thought provoked. “What… What do I do?”

    “Go to her.”

    “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

    “Why?”

    “Look at me.” Aiden gestured to his scarred face. “How can anyone look at me and be attracted?”

    “There is more to a person then how they look,” Dorian explained. “Believe me, that woman is just as attracted to you as you are to her.”

    “No,” Aiden argued.

    “You know the Seeker, Aiden. She would’ve written you off long ago if she didn’t have feelings for you.”

    “Feelings?”

    “Go to her.”

    “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

    “Go to her and you’ll see that I am right.”

    Aiden found his feet carrying him towards the forge before he could sort out exactly what his mind wanted to do. Part of him wanted to ignore all what Dorian said. To bury all of it and not disturb the way things were. That was predictable and safe. After a life of turmoil, Aiden liked normal. But, as his mind focused on Cassandra, a part of him wanted to know what this heat was leading to. He wanted to experience pleasure in the way everyone else had. He wanted so much when it came to the Seeker.

     Slipping inside the building, he locked the door when he found the bottom floor empty. If they were interrupted, then he would lose all confidence and bolt. Merthin laid curled up on the top stair while Cassandra paced back and forth around the area she claimed as a bed chamber. Aiden stopped to scratch the hound’s head before signaling to keep watch. He knew the moment she sensed him as her shoulders stiffened and her head snapped up. When her dark eyes shifted to him, he felt the punch of desire that spurred him forward. Taking hold of the edge of her breastplate, he had a moment to register to shock before he slammed his mouth to hers.

   He expected to feel disgust. Expected his stomach to churn with nerves. Expected his body to reject the action and shove her away. Aiden didn’t expect the warmth of pleasure to course through him as his lips moved over her. Didn’t expect to find himself craving more. Didn’t expect to be left breathless by a single kiss. Didn’t expect himself to yearn to have her hands on him.

    The force of the kiss had Aiden stumbling back until he fell back against the table. Working on instinct, he gripped her by the shoulders, tugging until there wasn’t a breath between them. The want, the need left him breathless and aching. There was a fire burning as her fingers trailed over cheeks, down his throat until she found purchase in his hair. Her lips were bruising and frantic as they drank from one another.

     Wrenching away, Cassandra stared at him, eyes blown wide with desire. She gripped the lapels of his hunting coat, pulling him closer. “I still think you’re an insufferable arsehole.”

    The corner of his mouth lifted. “And I still think you’re the most frustrating, maddening woman in Thedas.”

    “Glad we’re finally on the same page.” She smiled before diving back in.

#dragon age #writing #dragon age prompt #cassandra pentaghast #Trevelyan #Aiden Trevelyan #mine

[katsukikitten]

Princess 8

Blood splatters on the dirt floor as Kirishima wipes blood from his face.

"Are you fucking serious?" His voice comes out rough, a growl even, "Why did you provoke her like that?"

Bakugou sends a seering glare his way, surprised by his right hand man's sudden and often hard to provoke rage.

"She was testing me, besides I needed to know if your rumor was true."

"You didn't believe me!" Ruby eyes narrow on his friend, "You think I would lie about that? More over you've fucked yourself!"

"I needed to know why she hadn't just obliterated her Father." He yells, explosions dancing around him.

"Why?!" Kirishima shouts, wiping more blood from his face, "You know why! I don't think you intended to get that reaction. I think you were just angry that she hurt your pride!"

Silence stretches between the two but neither lets their gaze waver.

"You know that deep down she doesn't want to be like her Father. She doesn't want to rule with total fear. She wants respect. She wants to be loved by her people especially after having a taste of it here."

Bakugou clenches and unclenches his first to try to calm himself. An image of you pops in his head, your hands hesitate to receive a flower crown from a woman and her daughter. Something he receives all the time.

He sucks his teeth but Kirishima continues his lecture.

"You had someone who was loyal to you, who took care of your people who was accepted by Ryu of all things! A powerful ally that you just pissed away and for what? Ego? Pride? Sure the King I know is prideful, egotistical, hell even arrogant but never stupid."

"Watch. It."

"You must trust her to some extent but if you aren't going to pursue her as your Queen, lover, or ally then I will." He walks past his King stopping by his shoulder for just a moment, "Because at the end of the day I'd rather have a fiercely strong woman like her watching my back on the battle field than a man with weak resolve."

Eijirou leaves Bakugou with a heavier weight than he'd like on his mind.

You fight the tears as you near the cliff, something deep on the horizon pulls you but you cannot tell what it is.

Is it the storm that is brewing? Is it Ryu hunting? Could it be...you swallow down your tears. Now is not the time for crying.

Now is the time to focus!

You are unsure but you know it somehow feels familiar. You stand on the edge of the cliff standing beside the only tree for what feels like miles, the ocean reaches towards you begging to be used. Wind whips salty air tangling your unbraided hair as you focus.

"Princess!" Your concentration is broken and you suppress your growl. You watch the broad shouldered figure climb to the high point that over looks the jagged ocean below and the dunes to your beach to the left.

"I..." He starts catching his breath but not from exertion, "I was hoping to find you."

"It seems your search was fruitful." You say dryly, leaning against the tree as you give up on concentrating on the swirling power at sea.

You chalk it up to a storm when thunder rumbles overhead and Kirishima steps closer.

Ever closer until you're almost pinned against the gnarled wood.

"I'm sorry about the King." He soothes, and you stare looking for a lie you cannot find, "I just want to say that I believe in your ability. I've heard the stories."

You stare and he steps closer, wearing a wide tooth smile as reaches for your hand.

Lacing his fingers with yours, you think to pull away until he kisses each knuckle. You feel his blood pounding, the quicken beat of his heart as he adores your hand. Though his face gives nothing away.

"The power and prowess you posses is astounding and only a fool would hesitate to make you their partner on the battle field and in life." He let's go of your hand and leans closer to your face.

Capturing your chin with his hands gently, tilting your face to see your scar. He traces the off colored skin gently causing a shudder to run down your spine from the ghostly feeling of his thumb. Skin barely detecting his touch but sure as fuck flooding your memories of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair dancing in the wild candle light.

You give King Kirishima the benefit of the doubt with his intentions until his knee is separating your legs as he leans closer.

Lips hovering over yours, mere breaths separating your cupid's bow from his.

You glare at him in warning but he seems to be drowning in the depths of your eyes. You think it over for a moment should you shove him from you now or will a good fuck ease your rapidly racing mind and help you to forget someone else who has been running through it.

"I mean every word I say princess." He whispers softly, eyes admiring your features, "I will care for you, protect you bust most importantly believe in you."

He presses his lips to you then, losing himself by fisting your hair and grabbing onto your hip. Giving a tight squeeze that brings about dejavu

The familiar squeeze does nothing but flash images of another man into your mind, reminding you of who's deadly hands you want exploring your body and pressing you agaisnt this tree.

You try to kiss him back to help you forget, tongue fighting his but he loses. Giving you the upper hand was a mistake, just as you're about to break the kiss and end his feelings for you before they can grow further an explosion strikes the dying tree beneath you, splintering the wood into thousands of pieces.

Instinctively Kirishima pulls you behind him and you fight to roll your eyes. Katsuki has an odd look burning in his scarlet orbs furthered by the dancing pops of his exploding palms.

Another explosion is sent Kiri's way. He takes the brunt of the force head on, hardening his forearms to soften the blow.

Katsuki glares with piercing accuracy as he sends another explosion, this time Kirishima's hardened forearm begins to crack.

"What the fuck are you doing with the *Princess*?" It comes out as a feral growl as his eyes seem to glow in the setting sun.

"You won't make her yours so I will. I told you I would and you know I never go back on my word." Kirishima shouts lunging for his King, "I'll fight for her since you will not."

The ash blonde does not hold back, meeting the ruby haired man's face with a clenched first backed with an explosion. His cheek cracks from the force and he slides a good few feet away.

You stare angrily as Kirishima takes yet another point blank explosion in a matter of seconds, hardened skin splinters from his forearms, crimson begins to soak the grass. Kiri surpresses a hiss as you snarl.

"Enough!" You wick the sweat from Katsuki's skin holding it in the air and hardening it to sharp point aimed at him as you step in front of the mountain King.

"First things first I am no one's to fight over." You snarl so darkly that Kirshima flinches but Bakugou just stares you down. You watch the blonde's chest heave as he fights to keep his composure, scarlet eyes blistering your skin. Your eyes drink in the sight of his rage.

"Second *Bakugou*, I am not your wife nor your lover, you've made that apparent with the lack of engagement jewelry or announcement. So should I wish I could fuck Kirishima any time I'd like." You slide a finger down the mountain king's chiseled chest, careful to go slowly. You hear Katsuki's teeth grind even five feet away.

"We shared sheets, we shared bath water." He says so lowly and you feel the pull of his blood rushing with unsated wrath, you cannot help but smirk as you speak.

"And yet nothing came of it, not even a kiss. I am repulsive remember?" You lean your head onto a broad shoulder, still tracing lazy circles on his chest, "Besides I'm sure your performance would be lacking considering Kirishima would be able to have me screaming for hours what with his hardening quirk and all."

Kirishima smiles darkly in your direction before Katsuki ignites the sweat you trapped causing a diversion as he slips past you and slams his fist into a soft cheek. Kirshima flies backward, landing hard on his shoulder before sliding almost over the edge of the cliff. Leaving a deep ditch in his wake, he does not move vexing you into a borderline black out episode of rage.

You turn to the king furiously before you slam your first into his handsome face, relishing the satisfying crack that sings from the impact.

He counters with a hard punch to your gut before slamming his left fist onto your sliced cheek. The force causes the last two stitches to burst as you're sent backward, you flip in the air to land on your feet, spitting blood.

Now you were going to raise hell. You lunge, careful to avoid a close range explosion as you hold onto his wrist. You smile as you see the bruise bloom beneath his eye although unspoken emotion pulls at your gut. You pull him forward but he opens his palm and erupts a large scale explosion, you dodge last second finding new footing.

You ignore that weight in your gut as you deliver a barrage of fists before following it up with a swift kick to the face. He flies and lands hard onto his back to which you pounce onto his hardened body to pin him, leaning close to his face.

"Am I nothing but a possession to you?!" Your scream is loud enough to echo off the far off mountain as the King's eyes widen. He makes quick work of flipping you, pinning you by your throat into the creator of your own making.

"A POSSESSION?!" He screams in your face. His eyes flickering between yours searching for something, he leans closer to your face. Lips almost touching as he collects himself with a few deep breathes, your body heats on it's own accord as his grip tightens. He snarls before he presses his lips to your ear as he whispers darkly in your ear.

"If you were my possession I would have you branded. I wouldn't even bother fucking you in my chambers let alone let you taint my fucking sheets or bathwater. No you would be lucky to take my cock in any decent bed and you would be denied my seed everytime." His husky tone has you twisting beneath his tight palm, he digs his burning fingers further as you gasp out, "Maybe I should brand you. Break you."

His palm begins to burn against your throat a manic smile plastered on his lips. The heat he is radiating has dried the air and grass around the two of you making an instantaneous counter attack impossible. You could pull on his blood, it would be easy quick. You're already so familiar with it, it would be as if you were commanding your own body.

But your fingers will not cooperate, as much as your own power begs you to bend him to your will, your body fights against you.

Your heart will not allow you to manipulate him in such a way, pushing images of his softened eyes and gentle fingers caring for your cheek to the forefront of your mind.

All the while he is savoring the moment of your powerlessness even as you pull on his sweat, he must feel your attempts as every time you pull he ignites, exposing you to point blank explosions. Something other than anger flashes in his eyes causing his grip to become ever tighter.

You pull the blood from your reopened cheek sharpening it to hardened points. Just as you're about to let the droplets find purchase in his tender flesh the ground shakes beneath you. A deafening roar is belted out before sharp teeth grab onto the King, gentle enough to keep skin intact but hard enough to slam him into the Earth. His body bounces once from the force of the impact before your vision is blocked by an iridescent red wing.

"Ryu what the fuck?!" He snarls and the dragon lets out another roar.

Angry, hurt are the emotions you feel the dragon emitting. It makes your skin sing as you feel the might if his blood and power level.

Ryu's blood is normally in perfect sync with Katsuki but currently it is a beat ahead. A low rumble drones from deep with in his thick red neck.

*"Remember how you really feel."* A hiss is echoed through your head and you stare at the dragon, a golden eye slides to you before refocusing on the king before him.

A massive series of pops comes from behind the wing, the air is filled with the smell of burning grass and the sickening sweet smell of burnt sugar.

"Whatever." He snarls and sucks his teeth as you feel him walk past Ryu. You hear him grunt from the weight of what must be Kirishima before his power fades in the direction of the village.

The adrenaline leaves you shaking behind the protection of Ryu's shining wing before your eyes begin to sting.

Watering of their own accord as you fall to your knees, fat tears finally slipping past long lashes as you reflect on all that has happened, on all that has changed. You're fine with the fact that you uprooted yourself from your meaningless life at home but the hate reflected in those scarlet eyes earlier has a sob racking through your body.

Damning yourself for your hesitation to bend his blood, for allowing him the upper hand and for trusting him to never harm you, even if it was subconscious.

Your fingers fly to your throat and you are thankful to not feel a burn developing and now you are unsure if you will even bruise as the ghost of his fingers are felt again.

You check your skin through bleary eyes noting that there isn't a single burn mark or threatened flesh. Your only wound your reopened cheek and your memory is flooded with Kirishima's cracked stone skin.

Had he held back on you?

And yet hours before that fight you were ready to wipe his existence from the face of the Earth.

A heavy wind brings clouds rolling in quickly off of the ocean and thunder roars out overhead. Clouds that came too late to assist or maybe it was coming on time. You would have drowned him at the very least, your sharpened droplets were aimed for those gorgeous, burning scarlet eyes.

Ryu pulls you closer to his warm body, his wing shielding you from the ran as you curl into his sun heated scales. Giving into your exhaustion, the warmth and comfort coming from Ryu has you succumb to sleep faster than you'd like.

You do not stir for hours even as the moon rests high in the sky. At least not until something lifts you but you do not bother to open your eyes, having not slept that hard in weeks. You snuggle into the muscular chest and neck filling your nostrils with sweet spices of that damn white fur.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima #princess #bnha kaachan #bakugou katsuki au #bnha au

[daemongal]

To Silence a Devil

So this was my piece for the @invictuszine, a zine lovingly put together by a group of wonderful contributors and the amazing @copper-wasp who made the whole thing a reality. To anyone who ordered the zine, thank you very much and I hope it makes it to you safely (super soft cover and all if you ordered the physical one!) and if not, I hope you enjoy this piece and all of the others that are being posted! 

***

“Hey Dante, is everything ok? You haven’t been out since we came back from the Temen-Ni-Gru.” Lady walked solemnly towards where Dante was seated, concern clear on her features.  

Humans, the deep, bestial voice echoed once again in his mind, so weak. She would look so much more delicious with her skin torn open. It would be so easy for us, Dante.  

“Piss off!” he screamed in a voice barely his own, smashing his fist against the desk which splintered under the impact. “Just leave me alone!”  

Lady stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide, sucking in a heavy gasp of air as her expression dropped along with her jaw. Body tense, she reached towards her gun reflexively, taking a slow step back, eyes unblinking as she watched his shoulders slump and head hang heavy.  

“Fine,” she lowered her gun, posture still stiff, “if that’s what you really want, I’ll leave you to your self-pity.” She stepped back towards the door, throwing a piece of card to the floor in her wake. “I only came here to help... I’ll still be here when you decide you need it.” Barely holding her voice together, she slammed the door, leaving Dante alone once more.  

“I hope you know those words were meant for you, demon.” A deep laugh reverberated through his mind.  

“I am more than aware, Dante. We are one, after all, you and I. I hope you realise, there is nowhere for me to ‘piss off’ to. Just embrace me, let me in. You do not understand the power we hold together if you would just allow it.”  

His heartbeat was racing at the creature’s words as he looked towards the palm of his left hand, at the cut through the glove that was made by the brother that ‘embraced’ his demon. The one whose strong sense of pride led to becoming the very thing Dante has fought against all this time and eventually, what lead to his undoing. His hand turned into a tight fist as he slammed against the desk again.  

“Never. I’ll never become like him!”  

“Oh, Dante; we could be so much more than that.”       

***  

Silence hung heavy in the room, punctuated by the low hum of beaten air from the ceiling fan and the occasional uninhibited growl rising from the depths of Dante’s chest. He hated this, hated it; being alone with his own thoughts, with his own mind.  

But what choice did he really have? What options did he have to choose from with the hand he’d been dealt? 

Days had passed since the incident with Lady. Her contact card remained seemingly glued to the floor where it had been left, and Dante remained mostly rooted to the same spot. He had tried to sleep, to get a break, but his dreams only turned into nightmares haunted by the physical manifestation of the demon that plagues his thoughts in his waking hours. 

He had tried to eat, but his disobedient body rejected most of what he consumed. During a final fit of hope, he called for a pizza, praying that his love for the crispy bread crust and melted cheese would be enough to overcome his body’s denial, a pleasant twinge of excitement igniting in his chest for the first time in days.

The smell of warm food filled his nostrils as a knock echoed through the room. Rising from his chair he choked back a groan, a sudden wave of nausea spreading through him as he took in deep breaths, the air filled suddenly with the heavy scent of something different, surrounding him until it felt as though he could swim through it.

He gripped the edges of the desk, keeping himself grounded as thoughts and images flashed through his mind, of how little he now cared about the steaming box of food and how suddenly he was craving the one that held it, of how wonderful his sharp teeth would feel digging into their soft-- he threw a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat.

“This is so messed up. Just let me have this, stop filling my mind with your sick fantasies!” After a further knock on the door followed by a polite “hello?”, Dante’s nails were digging into the wood of the desk, raking lines across it in an attempt to ground himself.  

“Why do you deny us? Your body is crying out for what it needs, you can end this pointless suffering now if you would just indulge us.”  

His fingers became sharp, inhumanly clawed as the lines dug deeper and deeper until, with a dismissive “whatever”, the presence left the doorway and his senses began to calm. The edges of the desk cracked under his grip as he reclined in his chair, sighing once his head cleared of depraved thoughts.  

It was becoming difficult to fight back; the demon stood proudly on the borderline of his consciousness, a few mere moments away from taking over during a moment of weakness. He was exhausted, watching his hands slowly reverting back to human skin, shuddering at the thought of how unnatural the soft flesh appeared through his eyes.

“I’m not indulging you with anything, ya hear me.”

Confident that the human was now well out of reach, Dante rose from his chair and wandered towards the door, each footstep feeling heavier than the last.

Within seconds, his whole body tensed, senses screaming out as the scent of a demon caught his overly sensitive nostrils. He dove back towards the desk, swiftly grabbing Ebony and Ivory just as the sound of smashing glass filled the room, as time seemed to slow.

His body was in hyperdrive, eyes flickering between the multiple Hell Prides that fell alongside the shattered shards of glass. He raised his twin guns to point and shoot at the two furthest away, landing a shot clean between their eyes, dissolving them to dust before they had reached the floor.

“Pathetic.” 

The voice boomed in his head. For once Dante agreed, opening his mouth to acknowledge the statement before being abruptly cut off.

“Not them; you.” 

His mouth hung open, wordless breaths being all he could form. He’d been called a lot over the past week, but no words had been spoken with such malice. The question hung on the tip of his tongue before it was answered for him.

“You hold your pathetic weapons as if they offer you some kind of comfort. You are a demon, Dante; act like it”

His guns dropped to the floor as he watched the scales envelop his hands once more, spreading up his arms, the heat invigorating him with a newfound energy as his breaths became hot and laboured.

He felt the warmth spreading up his spine, his heartbeat speeding up uncomfortably, the sound of blood rushing in his ears blocking out all surrounding sounds as he watched the glass silently hit the floor through suddenly too focussed eyes.

His hands balled into fists at his side as anger spread through him, a rage only comparable to when he triggered for the first time atop the tower. A sudden understanding spread through him as he smiled; smiled for the first time in days. A hellish grin full of sharp teeth and malicious intent followed by a deep laughter that threatened to explode from his chest.

“Yessss…” he spoke in a voice he didn’t recognise as his own, “I’ll tear them apart.”

His body lunged forward, newly formed wings spread wide, grabbing and pinning one of the hell prides by the throat. He felt a faint sensation in his arm as he glanced to see the scythe buried into his flesh. 

He laughed; deep, demonic, from the depths of his chest as he inhaled the scent of fear that suddenly enveloped his senses.

“Cower, weakling.” His fist tightened, revelling as the demon squirmed under his grasp momentarily before his claws met crushing it as it turned to dust. A satisfied growl left his throat as he turned, leaping towards another.

He clawed, essentially tearing the demon in two, adrenaline and heat coursing through him in quantities he had never experienced before. 

The demons continued to flood into the room as Dante continued his carnage, ripping demons apart, gutting the larger demons that followed, turning his shop into a bloody mess. 

Joy; it was the only word he could use to describe how he--or the demon-- felt, looking on at the slaughter he had caused with his bare hands, his mind the clearest it had been since before the tower. 

His body slowly began to sober, his trigger fading as his body returned to its own, the pleased lull of the satisfied demon floating at the back of his mind. His stomach grumbled as he walked single-mindedly towards the door, snatching up the pizza resting on the doorstep. 

Throwing it onto his desk, he grabbed a slice, sucking in a breath tentatively as he took the first bite. He almost shed a tear over how amazing it tasted, his stomach gladly accepting the gift.

“So,” Dante spoke between greedy mouthfuls, “this enough for ya?” He pointed his crust around the room. “Not quite as human as you imagined, I’m sure, but they bleed all the same.”

“As long as they are weak, and you are strong. As long as they cower before us and accept our power, it will be enough to keep me sated.”

Dante hummed, eyes scanning the floor as he wandered, kicking aside dust and remains.

“Well if that’s the case then, we’re gonna have to set a few basic ground rules. And,” he leaned over, picking up the now off-white card, “we’re gonna need a whole lotta demons.” He chucked himself back into his chair, revelling in the quiet before sneering.

“Looks like I’m gonna have my work cut out for me.”

#devil may cry #dmc #dante #zine #fanfiction #Invictus zine #my fic #has also been posted to AO3 ^^ #can't wait until the physical copy arrives!!! #I wanna touch the cover i've heard so much about!

[master-sass-blast]

The Literal Crack Fic

Whoooo boy, this one’s a doozy.

Summary: You wind up overdosing after falling into a vat of cocaine and inadvertently inhaling too much of it.

The fic makes more sense than the summary, I promise.

Rating: M for accidental drug usage, seizures, drug-induced psychosis and hallucinations, drug overdose, drug withdrawal, cocaine, and hospitalization.

Like I said, this one’s a doozy.

Massive thank you to @leo-writer for proofing this fic for me and making sure my tired brain Englished properly! <3

Taglist: @chromecutie, @marvel-is-perfection, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

Also, to anyone who is struggling with drug addiction, who knows someone struggling with drug addiction, or has struggled with drug addiction: you are a beautiful human battling a dangerous and difficult beast. Your beauty and value are not and will never be diminished by the beast or the fight, I promise. <3

I thought it best to find a few resources to help those struggling with drug addiction. Obviously, I’m one person, so I can possibly cover every country. If someone knows the hotline for their country --or thinks of one I didn’t mention for a country I have listed--please include it in a reblog or a comment!

US:

-https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

-http://drughelpline.org/cocaine-hotline/

UK:

-https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/healthy-body/cocaine-get-help/

Australia:

-https://au.reachout.com/articles/cocaine

-https://adf.org.au/help-support/

You watch, satisfied, as your fiancé hauls off a group of mutant drug runners towards the X-Jet.

Charles had gotten the call a couple weeks ago; a team of mutants was using their abilities to run drugs through New York, and had gotten too dangerous for the regular authorities to handle. The X-Men had been asked to take in the mutants, and Charles had handed off the task of tracking the group’s hideout down to Nate and Wade.

Earlier today, the two had called the other members of the X-Force with the news that they’d found the drug runners. Within fifteen minutes, the X-Jet had been in the air and on its way towards upstate New York.

And, well, everything had gone pretty smoothly from there.

Wade groans as he stretches. “Fuck, I should’ve stretched my hammies more. I’m gonna be sore for like… another two minutes.”

“You’ll forget how you hurt yourself before the two minutes are up,” Ellie snarks.

“Yes, but until they are, I’m gonna be in agony!” Wade gripes. “Dammit! Why do my hamstrings hurt so bad?”

“Ellie, why don’t you and Yukio go help out Piotr,” you say, nodding at the jet. “Wade, Nate, Neena, and I will try to track down the runners’ stash so we can hand it off to the proper authorities.”

“Minus a serious chunk!” Wade adds as he starts skipping towards the warehouse the runners had been holed up in. “Because daddy needs a restock!”

“Absolutely not,” you fire back as you trail after him.

“Since when did you start sounding like Colossus?”

“Since we can’t afford to look like we’re skimming drugs, dorkus. What were they running?”

“Cocaine,” Nathan answers as he stops Wade from fiddling with various lab equipment on set of tables stationed on the far wall of the warehouse. “Decent grade stuff, and a lot of it from the looks of our recon.”

“I’m guessing there isn’t going to be a big sign with flashing neon lights that says ‘we hid our drugs here?’” you quip as you scan the warehouse for any clues about the drug stash’s whereabouts.

Nathan smirks. “Probably not, no.”

“We’ll find it,” Neena says confidently as she pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. “I’m feeling… two minutes and fifty seconds.”

“Still lazy writing,” Wade says as he turns a Bunsen burner on and off until Nate slaps his hand away.

You chuckle, then start walking the perimeter of the warehouse. The flooring’s wooden and somewhat rotted, so you have to watch your step in a couple places.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m an expert!” Wade protests mid-argument with Nate. “I’m just saying I’ve hidden cocaine before, and we should absolutely be looking for a hollowed-out statue of Betty Boop firing a machine gun into Stalin!”

“You’re the only person on the face of the earth who even has that statue.”

“Not true! The artist on Etsy made three.”

You snort and continue walking the perimeter, scanning the floor for any sign of where the drugs might be hidden –hello.

In the far-right corner of the warehouse is an area where a square has been cut through the floor.

You pry it up and peer down in the cavity beneath it –and, sure enough, there’s several slabs of cocaine at the bottom.

You pop up just as Neena’s phone timer goes off. “Over here!”

Neena cheers. “How about that!”

You jump up and down as you cheer with her—

Then shriek as you land on the hidey-hole panel and plummet through the floor.

You land on the slabs of cocaine –which, admittedly, aren’t too shabby for breaking a fall—and send up a veritable mushroom cloud of the drug into the warehouse. You cough, wheeze, and sneeze as you try to fan the coke away from your face.

And then, from the floor above you, comes the most horrified, blood-curdling shriek you’ve heard in your life. There’s a rush of footsteps on the floor, then Wade practically dives in with you because he can’t stop in time. He manages to catch himself on the lip of the floor, repositions himself so he’s laying down on his stomach, partially hanging over the ledge, then hauls you out by your collar, all while screaming “Get out of there! Get out of there! Get out of there!”

You hack and swipe at your face as you plop onto the floor of the warehouse. “Oh, fuck. That’s worse than the time I dropped that ten-pound bag of powdered sugar.”

Wade seems to be too busy having a nervous breakdown to notice your quip, though. “Oh, fuck! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! Fucking monkeys on a stick! Oh, sweet balls have mercy, no!”

“Relax,” you say as you stand and brush yourself off. “I didn’t hit my head; I’m fine.”

“I will not fucking relax!” Wade snaps at you. “I think I fucking shit my pants when you fell down in there, so no! No relaxing! No relaxes ever again! This is the worst possible situation to have ever happened in the history of the universe, including the invention of polyester boxers! Holy shit, Colossus is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Wade, take a breath,” Neena interjects firmly. “Colossus isn’t going to kill anyone. It was an accident. You didn’t even do anything.”

“He most certainly will if his precious fiancée dies, which is exactly what’s gonna happen to her!”

“Wade, calm down,” Nathan says. “Y/N’s not going to die.”

“Yes, she is, you fucking imbecile!” Wade snarls –and his tone, combined with the fact he’s snapping at Nathan, really settles that he’s being completely serious. “She’s on antidepressants! You can’t mix those with cocaine! Even I don’t mix those with cocaine! Fuck, we need to get her to a hospital. We needed to get her to a hospital five minutes ago! Fuck, why are we still standing here?”

“You’ve been monologuing,” Neena offers.

“Dammit! Not the time! Bad me!” He slaps himself. “Ow!”

“I can just fly myself there,” you say, voice thready with anxiety because you’re starting to get the picture of just how fucked you might be.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Wade clasps your shoulders in a way that would’ve been gentle if he hadn’t been death-gripping them due to being so worked up. “No, nobody’s flying anywhere except in the jet. You need to keep your heart rate as slow as possible. Just stay calm. Everybody’s cool, everybody’s fine, this is totally chill, nobody’s shit their pants and nobody’s going to die, except for maybe you –fuck! Where is Piotr?”

“He’s handing off the criminals to the authorities,” Nate supplies, peering out the warehouse door. “They’ve got some kind of court case they need the guys for.”

“Dammit! This is no time for the boy scout act!”

“Come on.” Neena takes your arm and starts walking you towards the door. “We need to at least get her on the jet.”

 ***

 So, as it turns out, cocaine feels pretty fucking great.

You’re borderline vibrating when Piotr all but sprints onto the jet, followed closely by Wade. “Hi, babe!” you chirp, words coming out in rush. “How’re you? Are you good? I’m really good. I’m super buzzy. Are you super buzzy? Did you eat any bees?”

“How did this happen?” Piotr asks as he kneels in front of you, looking you over with a distraught expression.

“She fell through the floor, I swear to Cthulhu,” Wade says as he frantically strips you out of your jacket. “How’s she doing?”

“Temperature and heart rate are elevated, but other than that she’s been okay,” Neena says.

“We need to get her to a hospital,” Wade insists.

“Already called McCoy,” Nathan calls from the cockpit as he goes through the stages of lift off. “He called the hospital that works with the Institute; they’re already waiting for her.”

You press your sweaty forehead against Piotr’s shoulder, relishing in the cool temperature of his armor. “You feel good, baby. Just like your dick does when you fuck me.”

Piotr hugs you gently. “Just stay calm, dorogoy. Focus on breathing.”

“Oh, I can do that. I am so focused right now. I am the most focused I’ve ever been.”

“Very good. Try to stop talking and just focusing on breathing, pozhaluysta.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to talk, even though it’s really easy right now. It’s like I’ve got entire dictionaries in my head all at once, and they’re all pouring words into my brain, and I have to make sure I let the words out so my head doesn’t explode. Wait, am I still talking?”

“How much longer to hospital?” Piotr asks.

“Ten minutes,” Nathan replies from the cockpit.

Piotr shifts so he’s sitting in the seat and holding you in his lap. “Deep breaths, dorogaya moya. Focus on breathing.”

You’re too focused on tracing the ridges on his forearms with your fingers to really do that, but you are staying calm. Honestly, you feel really good. You’re alert, your brain feels like it’s going a billion miles an hour, and you feel really happy.

Granted, you could do without your chest feeling so tight, but you can’t have everything. You cough a little, then go back to tracing Piotr’s arm ridges with your fingers.

“Alright, Y/N.” Neena squats in front of you. “We have to do some tests to see where your cognitive function is at, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, drawing out the ‘a,’ while you continue to trace Piotr’s arm ridges. Wait, didn’t I just do his wrist?

“Good. Can you tell me your name?”

You let out another burst of coughing before answer. “Y/N M/N L/N.”

“Okay. What’s today’s date?”

“Uh…” You cough again, harder this time, then rattle off the date.

“Good. Can you tell me your date of birth?”

“Uh… uh… oh, it’s—” Before you can answer, you start coughing again, hard and long enough to make you start wheezing.

“Are you okay?” Neena asks as you double over. “Do you need some oxygen?”

You start crying, out of breath and more than a little disoriented. “I can’t breathe. My chest’s too tight, I can’t breathe.”

“Let’s get you some oxygen,” Neena decides, walking away to get a tank and mask.

Piotr rubs your back and helps you stay steady as you keep wheezing. “Try to stay calm. I know you are scared, but we are almost to hospital. Everything will be better soon.”

You weep against his shoulder—

Then suck in a harsh breath when you see your mother standing across the plane’s interior, glaring at you.

“What is it?” Piotr asks when you scream. “Moya lyubov’, what’s wrong?”

“My mom!” you hack out between bouts of coughing and wheezing. “Get her away from me!”

“Myshka… your mother is not here.”

Neena curses up a blue streak as she sets an oxygen canister next to your fiancé. “Wade! Get in here! She’s hallucinating!”

There’s the sounds of general panic and chaos from the cockpit, then Wade bursts into the main area of the jet. “Fuck—”

Everything goes black after that.

 ***

 Beep… beep… beep…

You wish someone would turn your alarm clock off. It’s hard enough to sleep with something stuck to your face, but the continuous beeping in your ear makes it borderline impossible.

Beep… beep… beep…

Maybe it’s one of those alarms that keeps going until you solve some sort of puzzle or something. You tried installing one of those on your phone at one point, but Piotr had to keep solving them to turn the alarm off because you’d sleep through the damn thing anyway, which kind of defeated the purpose of getting a special alarm to begin with.

Beep… beep… beep…

No…

Beep… beep… beep…

No, wait…

Beep… beep… beep…

That’s a pulse monitor.

Aw, shit.

You open your eyes with a slight snort and peer up into blinding whiteness.

You’re in a hospital room. Fucking fantastic.

“Easy, easy,” someone says –it’s Piotr, you recognize his voice even if you can’t see him—while you shield your eyes against the lights. “Hold still. I will turn lights down.”

You relax as the lights dim down to a more respectable level, then start trying to look around for your boyfriend –except you can’t really move; every single movement –even down to the twitch of your fingers—feels like you’re swimming through molasses.

Then there’s the sensation of the bed dipping on your left side, and Piotr’s face appears in your field of vision.

He cups your face gently in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with the utmost delicacy. He’s smiling, but his baby blue eyes are watering with unshed tears. “Privet, myshka. How are you feeling?”

You try to reply, but you can feel the thing on your face somewhat impeding the movement of your face. You try to reach towards it to move it away, but you have all the limb coordination of a newborn giraffe at the moment.

“Careful, careful,” Piotr cautions, taking your hand in his. “Oxygen mask. You were having difficulty breathing.”

Well. That explains that.

“Where… am I?” you rasp as you try to get your bearings.

“Hospital,” Piotr says. “You… you had seizure from cocaine. They had to give you some drugs to calm you down.”

You frown as you try to piece together what he’s saying. “I… can’t remember…”

“It is okay. Doctors said that might happen. Speaking of which—” he picks up the little remote attached to your bed “—I need to call your nurse so she can check on you.”

***

 The full story is such: you inhaled enough cocaine to cause an overdose, and that combined with the interaction between the coke and your meds caused you to experience psychosis before you started seizing. You blacked out when the seizure started, then lost consciousness when you started convulsing. Fortunately, the convulsions only started when you were two minutes away from the hospital. The team there was able to treat you almost immediately –with bendodiazepines, which is a fun word to say—and put you in a room for observations once they were able to stop the effects of the seizure and the overdose.

You don’t remember anything that happened on the jet, and barely anything from the mission itself or the incident in the warehouse –which, all things considered, might be for the best. You’ve got enough traumatic memories to deal with as is.

All in all, you’re tired. Between the mission, the overdose, the seizure, and the drugs they gave you to calm your body down, you feel like you’ve been awake for a week straight. You manage to stay conscious while the nurse checks you over and ascertains your memory recall –average, considering what you went through—but once she leaves, you’re out like a light.

You wake up a couple other times –once to go to the bathroom, once because Piotr sneezes—but otherwise you remain konked out well into the evening, when you wake up to a quiet cacophony of voices in your room.

At first, you almost right it off as having some sort of strange dream or semi-conscious auditory hallucination –except you pick up on that the voices are speaking Russian, and hey!

You open your eyes, and sure enough the rest of the Rasputin family is in your room, greeting Piotr and speaking to him and hushed, worried Russian.

Illyana, unsurprisingly, notices you’re awake first. “Hey.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Privet, sleepyhead. How are you?”

“Really hungry,” you say, which is punctuated by your stomach gurgling. “Can I eat something?”

He kisses your forehead again before standing. “I will go ask nurse.”

Alexandra takes his spot as he strides out of the room, clasping your hand in hers and rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “How are you, malen'kaya ptitsa?”

“Drugged as fuck,” you answer with a tiny smile. “I can’t… can’t remember most of what happened.”

“That is what medvezhonok said. He sounded very panicked over the phone.”

“It was pretty bad, apparently,” you say.

Mikhail grunts in agreement. “Uppers and antidepressants do not mix.” He holds up his hands defensively when Alexandra and Nikolai pin him with sharp looks. “Not speaking from experience! Just saying.”

You chuckle tiredly, then refocus on Alexandra. “Why are you guys here? I thought you were in Russia.”

“We were,” Nikolai pipes up. “We get call, then we come.”

You frown as you try to do the math. “But… the flight…”

“We teleport in emergencies,” Alex says with a conspiratorial wink. “Medvezhonok needs us. As do you. We are here to help until you’re back on your feet.”

You smile at them, chest swelling with appreciation and love. “Thank you.”

Alex just shakes her head and pats your hand. “We are family. It’s what we do.”

***

 The doctor on rotation comes in while you’re eating dinner. He checks your chart, asks you and Piotr a few questions about your medical history, then delivers what just might be the worst news of your life.

“I’m going to be here for a week?”

Okay, maybe ‘worst news of your life’ is a touch dramatic, but still.

“It’s standard practice with seizure patients,” he explains. “We need to make sure you’re stable, especially since it’ll take time for the cocaine to leave your system and you’re on antidepressants. Speaking of which, how familiar are you with drug withdrawal?”

You frown. “I mean… I’ve had painkillers after surgeries before.”

He quirks his mouth to one side, then shakes his head. “Not quite what I mean. You might experienced some minor side effects with that, but cocaine withdrawal is an entirely different beast. Even with your advanced constitution, you’re going to be in a world of hurt for a while.”

“What are we looking at?” Piotr asks.

“Well, typically, cocaine crash happens within the first week after taking the dose. Users who crash often go through various psychological side effects –increased anxiety, irritability and depressive symptoms—along with physical ones –chills, impaired coordination, exhaustion, and so on. Weeks one through four usually constitute the withdrawal part of the process. Again, there’s more of the symptoms I just mentioned, but also an uptick in nightmares, muscle and nerve pain, and difficulty concentrating. She’s basically going to need intensive care from her support system during the withdrawal process; there’s a reason why most centers that help people get clean are live-in facilities.”

“But I’ve never even done anything recreational before,” you insist. “I barely even drink.”

“And that’s definitely in your favor. The fact that you don’t have any preexisting habits puts you ahead of the game. But drug withdrawals severely impact brain chemistry,” the doctor explains patiently. “You’re not going to be yourself or think like you usually do. Your brain will be going through a depletion of endorphins, especially dopamine, and it’s going to drive you to possibly do some incredibly risky things to get more.”

“How do we keep her safe?” Piotr asks, expression concerned.

“Close supervision, for one. Making sure she’s comfortable, that she has the assistance she needs, and that she’s not isolated are going to be key. Keeping her closely in touch with her therapist or someone who specializes with helping addicts with be important, too.”

“But I’m not an addict,” you argue.

“You’re not, but specialists have more experience addressing the problems you’ll be facing. The goal is to help you as effectively as possible. Also, make a point to limit any other substances she could have access to –alcohol, prescription drugs, even over the counter stuff. People who do cocaine often try to get another hit by switching over to a different drug, and we don’t want to risk further complications. Do you live with her?”

Piotr nods.

“Good. You need to be in control of her medication until she’s completely recovered. I know it sounds ridiculous,” he adds when you make a noise of protest, “but this is a deathly serious situation. The odds of you overdosing via trying to get another high are exponentially higher right now. This is about keeping you safe.”

“But I don’t need to get another high!” you insist. “I’m fine!”

The doctor sighs and braces his forearms against his knees. “You inhaled a lot of cocaine when you fell into that vat. Between that and the benzodiazepines we gave you to stop the overdose seizure, you’re still high right now. You aren’t feeling any withdrawal symptoms because your body still has a lot of drugs in its system. Believe me, when they do hit, you will feel them and want to do anything to make them stop.” He favors you with a sympathetic smile. “This isn’t about you being a bad person, or an addict, or anything like that. The situation was an accident, and your intentions are good, but cocaine is a serious drug. All of this is for your safety, I promise you.”

You sigh –and reach for Piotr’s hand because all of this is more than a little terrifying—and nod. “Okay. What happens when I go back home?”

“I’ve instructed Dr. McCoy to keep you in observation for another three days, just to make sure your antidepressants are still interacting properly with your system. If all of that goes well, you’ll be free to resume normal life –under supervision, of course.”

You do your best not to pout. It’s for my own safety. “How long do I have to be supervised for?”

“Cocaine stays in the system for a long time. While withdrawal symptoms usually stop around the fourth week, the elimination stage –which is where the drug starts fully leaving your system and the risk of relapsing gets progressively smaller—can take up to five weeks on its own. Given that you have a slight healing factor and that you don’t have any other substance abuse problems, I would wager you might shave a week off of that cumulative total, but not much more than that.”

You grimace. “Ten weeks? I have to be supervised for ten weeks?”

“The supervision can be less restrictive as you progress through the weeks of the elimination phase, but yes, essentially. I’d advise setting rewards and goals for yourself at each milestone to help things progress better. The hospital staff will be providing you with some information about drug withdrawal and treatment before you leave; it should have suggestions for some good milestones to implement.”

You sigh, then look over at Piotr. “Here’s hoping you don’t get sick of me in that time.”

He smiles fondly at you and kisses your cheek. “Never.”

 ***

 Withdrawal hits like a bitch.

You’re cold. Downright freezing. No matter how many blankets you shiver under, you can’t get warm.

The monitor you’re hooked up to, however, says that your temperature is staying at a healthy level, the lying little bitch.

“I swear to Danny Devito that thing is mocking me,” you grumble as you eye the readout of the traitorous device. “There’s no way my temperature’s normal.”

“Give it time, myshka,” Piotr says as he loads up a spoon with more ‘berry blast’ yogurt; your coordination is still completely tanked, so he’s taken to feeding you for the time being like the absolute angel he is. “You will feel better eventually.”

You groan and grudgingly eat more yogurt. “I just want to feel better now.”

“I know, moya lyubov’. I know.”

***

 The anxiety is worse.

Even though you’re still on your anti-depressants –score one to the latent healing factor and overall hardiness mutation there, if you’d had to go off those too you might’ve lost your mind—the crash and slow withdrawals from the coke you’d accidentally taken is enough to put you on a knife blade’s edge. You feel like you’re continually one split second away from a panic attack, no matter how much deep breathing or meditating you do.

Fortunately for you, though, Piotr is a dedicated partner and fiancé who knows just about every trick in the books to help you relax. He has Ellie –who has her license now, which is kind of hard to believe, you swear she just turned sixteen yesterday—bring your favorite movies from the house and generally helps you stay distracted. When you do tip over into a panic attack, he’s right by your side and stays there until you ride it out.

You’re not sure where you’d be without him –here, and in life in general.

 ***

 The exhaustion, however, is what really kills it.

You can’t remember a time where you’ve ever been more tired. Missions, flying out to your uncles, your various escape attempts, flying to the X-Mansion for the first time, escaping kidnapping attempts, that one time you decided to stay awake for three days because Piotr was off on a mission and it sounded like fun and then he came back home to you being borderline delirious and attempting to cook Bagel Bites in the toaster (sorry, Piotr)…

It goes past being just “tired.” You’re exhausted all the way down to your bones, to the point where you can barely move or eat or do anything, and no amount of sleeping makes it better.

Worse still is that Piotr seems determined to keep you on a somewhat normal sleep cycle –which, okay, you need to be on one for the sake of your mental health, but you’re so damn tired that it almost seems pointless.

You sob when he rouses you from yet another nap. “Please,” you beg, “please, baby, I’m so tired, just let me sleep…”

Piotr wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead gently. “I know, moya lyubov’, but it is not good to sleep all day. Besides, it is time to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” you weep. “I just want to sleep, please just let me sleep!”

He hugs you gently, careful not to disrupt the hookup to the heart monitor, and presses his lips to the top of your head. “I know, but you need to take medication. Besides, I brought your favorite.”

You pry your eyes open, sniffling –and sure enough, he’s brought a food container from home stuffed with chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, the works. “Can I sleep after I eat?”

“After a bit. You should try to stay awake for little bit.”

You whimper and try to turn away from him. “No—”

“I know, I know.” He smooths your hair away from your face in a soothing fashion. “And I am so sorry, moya lyubov’, but you know it’s best for you.”

You sniff inelegantly, then turn back towards him and take the box. “Fine. But I’m not sharing my bacon.”

Piotr chuckles and kisses your temple. “Whatever helps you get through it, myshka.”

(You wind up sharing your bacon anyway.)

 ***

 Despite your misery, the week passes quickly enough –which probably has to do with your general disorientation regarding the passage of time, what with your exhaustion and all, which only adds to your suffering.

The Rasputin family takes various turns watching over you and keeping you company while Piotr gets sleep or attends to his duties as an X-Men and general overseeing adult at the Institute. Mikhail and Alexandra teach you the finer points of playing Poker without losing like a scrub, Nikolai tells various stories about growing up in Russia and his kids’ early lives, and Illyana pops in from time to time to just keep you company –more often than not, with Kitty in tow as well.

Ellie even drives Russell and Yukio over and figures out how to hookup her Wii to the TV in your room so the four of you can play. Your skills at Mario Kart are none too improved by your impaired coordination –but, considering you were pretty shit at it to begin with, not too much of your game play is changed overall.

Conspicuously absent, however, are Nate and Wade. You’ve gathered that Wade is still pretty freaked out by the whole thing and is generally avoiding Piotr and his family at all rational –and irrational, because Wade—costs, and that Nate is babysitting him to make sure he doesn’t go on a reign of panic-induced destruction, if the texts he sent to Piotr are to be believed.

Which, honestly, is probably the best thing for Nathan to be doing right now. Wade gets extremely unpredictable when he’s stressed out; having Nate around is basically the only way to ensure he doesn’t attempt to “liberate” the zoo again –or, worse, do something hurt himself.

Either way, after one week of observation, you’re discharged with a few hefty bills, a thick pamphlet of information about recovering from withdrawals and what to look out for, and strict instructions to take it easy and for other adults to keep a close eye on you.

And then you’re taken home and veritably shunted into another hospital bed for another three days of observation.

Honestly, fuck your life.

 ***

 Granted, things could be worse. You’re surrounded by your friends and family, you can afford the bills you’ve accrued from this whole shitshow, you’ve got medical staff used to dealing with the special conditions that come attached with your mutant status, and you don’t have a past addiction to deal with on top of all this.

And gratitude is good, as is perspective, but sometimes suffering is suffering –constantly making sure your attitude is justified is exhausting and nigh impossible.

Plus, you’ve hit a second wave of side effects: freakish nightmares and full body pain! Fantastic!

(To be read as: not fantastic.)

Piotr’s by your side when you wake up with a whimper. “What’s wrong, moya dusha?”

“Nightmare,” you groan, waving your hand dismissively. “Just… weird.” You blink a few times, then peer at him, confused. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Not quite,” he says. “Mikhail will switch off with me soon.” He smoothes your hair back, then kisses your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” You wince, then try to reposition yourself as aches run through your body –not to any particular avail, since the pain seems to run straight through your bones and out the other side.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

He tsks quietly –a habit you’ve learned he picked up from Nikolai—and starts rubbing your hands and forearms.

And it does help you feel better, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tiredly.

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Just… you have to deal with all this. It’s so much. You don’t deserve that.”

“And you don’t deserve to be dealing with withdrawals or any of it. Besides—” he kisses the bridge of your nose “—we are going to be married soon. That means ‘for better or worse, in sickness and health.’”

“I’m pretty sure whoever created those vows didn’t have ‘accidentally falling into a giant vat of cocaine’ in mind when they wrote them,” you mutter.

Piotr snorts, quietly. “Perhaps not, but principle is same. Besides, I love you. This is no burden.”

“There is an objective level of burden here, Piotr. Even if you don’t mind it, you’re still dealing with a lot.”

Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then concedes with a nod and small smile. “Fair enough –but as you said, I do not mind. You are my fiancée and love of my life. I would sacrifice much more for you than what I have to do with this.”

You lean towards him –even though it sends stabs of pain all over your body, but you can’t be assed to care right now—and kiss his shoulder. “Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to.”

***

 Your uncle shows up on the second day of observation at the X-Mansion.

He practically tumbles into the room you’re staying in, hair wet and t-shirt somewhat askew, but otherwise in one piece. “What the fuck happened?”

You stare at him, agape. “What are you doing here? Why are you wet?”

“Alex called me. Said you were in the hospital. I flew out as soon as I finished my most recent mission,” he explains in a rush. “Showered first. I figured you guys would appreciate that.”

“Uh, yeah. Probably.” You frown when you notice him swaying a little on his feet. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate anything?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that hopeless. It was…” His voice trails off as he starts ticking off numbers on his fingers, which stops shortly after as his face goes blank, which in turn is punctuated by a simultaneous yawn and shockingly loud gurgle from his stomach.

Piotr bites back a snort –Mikhail doesn’t bother—and stands. “I can—”

“Nyet, nyet,” Nikolai interjects as he stands. He says something else in Russian, nodding to you with a smile, kisses Alex on the forehead, then clasps your uncle’s shoulder as he walks out of the room.

“What’d he say?” you ask Piotr as he sits back down in the seat next to your bed.

“Just that I should stay with you.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

“Right. Okay.” Your uncle plops haphazardly into a seat provided by Mikhail, scrubs his face with his hands, then gives you a slightly crazed look that you suspect is mostly fueled by exhaustion-induced delirium. “What happened?”

You look at Piotr, then shrug. “Uh… I accidentally fell into a vat of cocaine and overdosed.”

“…What?”

***

 Wade finally shows up three days after Dr. McCoy releases you into Piotr’s –along with his family’s and your uncle’s—care.

Which isn’t to say that he necessarily shows up of his own volition.

“Nate! Put me down you time traveling, infinity scarf wearing, fuck-boi haircut sporting bastard! I’m fucking serious! I’ll chop off my testicles and hide them under your pillow –again!”

“Like you said, wouldn’t be the first time!”

“Nathan Charles Elizabeth Craigory Sam-becca Summers, so fucking help me—”

You and Piotr watch –along with Mikhail, who’s basically on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter at this point—as Nathan forcibly carries Wade into your room –and, in a moment of predictable and yet somehow unpredictable desperation, Wade tries to brace himself against the doorframe like a dog who doesn’t want to get into the bath and is doing everything they can to avoid getting wet.

“You fucking cheater!” Wade gasps when Nathan uses his telekinesis to force Wade’s arms and legs forward. “You can’t just do that!”

“Can and did, sweetheart.” Nathan grunts as he sets Wade on the floor, facing your bed –which is where you currently are, propped up on a bunch of pillows. “Time to face the music, darling.”

“Absolutely not. Ryan Reynolds couldn’t make me face my emotions, and neither can you.”

“Wade,” Piotr says softly. “Talk to us. What is wrong?”

Wade looks pointedly at the ceiling and groans. “Ugh, why does he have to be so gentle? So caring? He’s like if the Pillsbury Doughboy and modern therapy conventions had a lovechild.”

Mikhail blinks slowly as he tries to process the sentence. “Pills-berry… what?”

You just shake your head at him.

“Wade,” Piotr says, a little more serious this time. “Please. This is serious matter.”

Nathan takes Wade’s hand and squeezes it gently when the other man looks pointedly at the floor. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I fucked up,” Wade says after a moment. “It’s… it’s my fault.”

A mildly pained expression crosses Piotr’s face. “What did you break? Did –Wade, if you had another run in with soap dispensers—”

“No! Although, I do need to refill mine back at home; thanks for reminding me.”

“I refilled our soap dispenser yesterday. With actual soap,” Nathan retorts in the tone of someone who is deeply in love but also deeply annoyed. “And stick to the point, sweetheart.”

Wade fidgets for a moment, then looks to Nate for reassurance, then sighs when the gray-haired man nods. “What happened with Y/N. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even had her in the warehouse. I know the ins and outs of coke, I know it’s dangerous to people who take antidepressants, I should’ve sent her out with you—”

“Wade,” Piotr says gently, cutting the scarred man off before he can dive too deeply into guilt. “What happened was an accident. I know that, Y/N knows that, we all know that. In fact, if you had not been there, she probably would have been in much worse danger. By all accounts, you helped save her life –so, thank you.”

Wade purses his lips, but manages a small nod before looking at you. “Can I talk to you for a minute? If you’re feeling up to it?”

You nod, then pat Piotr’s shoulder. “I’ll be alright.”

Piotr kisses your forehead, then stands and motions for Mikhail to follow him out –which the eldest Rasputin does without question or complaint.

Nate kisses Wade on the temple, then follows the two brothers into the hall.

You pat an open spot on the bed. “Come sit.”

Wade does, sighing heavily and curling forward so his forehead is resting against your shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I never wanted anything like this to happen to you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hugging him. “You took good care of me afterwards –and, like Piotr said, it’s not your fault.”

Wade laughs thinly. “Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure he was going to kill me when Nate dragged me over here.”

“Nathan would never let that happen,” you chuckle. “And Piotr wouldn’t do that, either. You drive him a little crazy, but he knows when you’ve instigated something and when you haven’t.”

“I’m always instigating something.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Wade concedes with a sigh. He sits up and gives you a half-hearted smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you groan. “Withdrawals are a bitch. Cravings, too.”

“Yeah,” Wade says with a chuckle. “Those go away a lot faster when you have a healing factor.”

“Lucky you.” You latch onto his hand. “I didn’t think I’d even get cravings. I’ve never even done drugs before.”

Wade shrugs. “It’s not necessarily about coke; it’s about the dopamine and serotonin. It just becomes a coke thing because of how much gets unleashed on the brain when you take coke.”

“And here you say you aren’t smart,” you tease him.

“I snorted six kilos of cocaine in three minutes after ‘Nessa died,” Wade grumbles. “If that didn’t teach me anything about coke and the brain, nothing would.”

You grimace slightly. “That’s not healthy.”

“Yeah, well, Nathan made me get rid of my stash, so don’t worry. Can’t do anything anymore.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Says who?”

“Scientists and doctors everywhere. And also Nathan.”

Wade huffs, though there’s no real anger behind the noise. “Well, I know who I’m listening to.” He pauses, then smiles and checks you gently with his shoulder. “Love you, sis.”

You grin and check him back –well, as much as you can in your state. “Love you, too, bro.”

***

Here are the resources I used when writing this fic:

Cocaine:

-https://www.drugfreeworld.org/drugfacts/cocaine/effects-of-cocaine.html

-https://drugabuse.com/cocaine/effects-use/

-https://drug.addictionblog.org/how-long-does-cocaine-last/

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/withdrawal-detox/#gref

-https://www.thefix.com/content/ask-expert-which-street-drugs-dont-mix-antidepressants

-https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/drugs-recreational-drugs-alcohol/recreational-drugs-medication/#.XTWlDOhKjIU

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/cocaine-overdose/#gref

-https://www.mentalhelp.net/substance-abuse/cocaine/overdose/

-https://deserthopetreatment.com/drug-overdose/how-much-cocaine/

Drug-induced seizures:

-https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4767205/

Epilepsy (for general understanding on seizures):

-https://www.epilepsy.com/start-here/about-epilepsy-basics/what-happens-during-seizure

-http://wwwp.medtronic.com/Newsroom/LinkedItemDetails.do?itemId=1160041417054&itemType=fact_sheet&lang=en_IN

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #cablepool #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #tw: drug overdose #tw: seizure #tw:drugs #tw: cocaine #tw: hospital #this is an angst fic #make no mistake #angst angst angst #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

[attemptsatwriting-exe-blog]

Tease (Lotor x Reader)

This is an x reader posted from my previous account, @whysleepwhenyoucanwrite. It can also be found on my AO3.

Prompt: Guess who xD Cannnn I have a LotorxReader with the prompt, "How have you made it this long without someone throwing you out an airlock or something?" Because that sounds funny

A/N: Absolutely NO idea who this is XD Sorry this took so long! I’m gonna try and get my other prompts out soon aha. Sorry if you’ve been waiting for ages! I promise I’m working on your request (or will be soon). Anywho, thank you for requesting, ‘anon’!

Tease (Lotor x Reader)

Lotor had switched sides. That was what he claimed, anyway, after saving all of you and having a “discussion” with the team. He’d been a constant presence in the castle for the past few days; none of you trusted him, especially Keith and Allura, but as Shiro had pointed out, he didn’t have much reason to lie now he had been declared a traitor to the Empire, and you could keep a better watch on him if he remained in your vicinity.

So, the nine of you (if you included Matt, your newest arrival) had a tenth addition to the castle.

Which was all well and good, except he was so annoying.

It wasn’t as if there was any specific act he had committed that infuriated you; it was just his general attitude. The way he walked around as if he owned the place, that stupid smirk on his face and his fucking hair -

Another thing; he was unfairly attractive. Unfairly. Lance would be the first to agree with you - you’d caught him trying to enter Lotor’s room one time, claiming that “I need to find out what hair products he uses! It’s not fair!”

He also decided that the chair next to you was the one he sat in at every meal, making mealtimes awkward as hell. One time you’d been happily eating your food goo (or, well, as happily as you could be, considering it was food goo) when you’d turned to see Lotor staring directly at you. When you’d raised an eyebrow, he’d simply placed his spoon into his mouth, and winked. To your utter horror, your face had heated up, and you’d looked away to see Keith staring.

From that point on, you’d firmly decided to stay far away from Lotor as much as possible.

But he made it so hard.

At training he’d insist you be his sparring partner, and despite your constant glares at Shiro, he’d agreed. When you were all relaxing, he’d somehow find an excuse to sit next to you. Even when you were hanging out in the kitchen with Hunk - your safe haven - he’d miraculously appear, claiming he smelled something good - then sending you a smirk.

It was weird, and borderline creepy - scratch that, just creepy. You hated it.

“Do you have an obsession with me or something?” you’d suddenly blurted out one time in the corridor, when the purple pointy-eared bastard had shown up at your side again. Lotor simply gave you a side-eye, then smirked.

“So you have noticed my interest in you.” Not even glancing your way, Lotor huffed in amusement. “I wouldn’t call it an obsession. It’s simply more pleasing for my eyes to be around the best looking person in this castle.”

With that, he’d continued on his merry way, boots clacking against the floor as you stood stock still, sputtering in shock.

“What do you mean he called you the best looking person in the castle?!” Lance shrieked, the hairbrush he had been calmly passing through your hair jerking and probably pulling out fifty strands with it. You yelped, and Lance hurriedly apologised, going back to brushing smoothly. “I thought that was me,” he whined.

“Aw, Lance,” you giggled. “It is you.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” he replied indignantly. “Otherwise there isn’t much else going for me,” he added, voice low enough you almost couldn’t hear.

“Excuse me, what?” you exclaimed, turning around abruptly. “What do you mean, not much else going for you?!”

Lance had frozen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Well, I mean, uh…”

“You’re our sharpshooter!” you practically yelled, your face barely inches away from Lance’s. “And you’re the one that boosts morale, that glues the team together… not just that, you’re smart, you’re protective of your friends, and you’re the best damn shot I’ve ever seen. The team wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Lance smiled, eyes glassy, and you reached around for the mirror behind you, then held it up to his face.

“Now, repeat after me; “you is smart, you is kind, you is important”.”

Lance chuckled a little, but did as you instructed, speaking into his reflection. “You is smart, you is kind, you is important.”

“Hell yes you are!” you shouted, and wrapped your friend in a hug. “Now keep brushing my hair, I like it.”

It was one thing receiving glances and vague gestures. Now he was being forthright about it.

When you were sparring, he’d lean in and whisper “you always look your best like this,” then flip you over his shoulder while you were still stood in shock. Then, while you were pinned down:

“I must admit I’ve already imagined you below me, although it was in quite a different context to this.” You shoved his smirking face away from you.

That was the first straw.

The second straw came when Allura and Shiro were explaining bayards to Lotor in depth, per his request. When Lance demonstrated how a Paladin could switch the form of their bayard, switching from his blaster to a rifle, Lotor leant down and whispered “You’ve already unlocked my bayard,” his breath hot on your neck.

Through your frustration, the soft ‘oof’ that came from the Prince as your elbow made contact with his midsection was quite satisfying.

After the group had disbanded, you approached Allura, figuring she’d at least have some idea of how to deal with unwarranted flirting.

“Princess.”

Allura turned to you, blue eyes questioning. “Yes, Y/N?”

You’d planned to be quite calm and collected when you approached the Princess about this; after all, she clearly appreciated maturity, and you wanted her full attention on this.

Instead, your voice cracked as you managed a desperate “help me.”

The last straw came at dinner, after a brief respite period with no random invasions of privacy, no pick up lines, and no flirting. In retrospect, you should have known it was coming.

He’d been silent next to you for the entire meal, which should have been a warning sign in itself. Right when you were least expecting it, the uncomfortably familiar sensation of whispering in your ear was present again, paired with the words “While this food goo does prove itself satisfactory, I’d much prefer to… how you Earthlings might say… eat out.”

That was it.

Within a second, Lotor was blinking at you through the food goo that dripped down his face and hair, looking ultimately displeased. Before anyone could open their mouth, you beat them to it.

“How have you made it this long without someone throwing you out an airlock or something?” you exploded, standing up for emphasis. “Do you treat everyone like this, you fucking dickass?”

“Language,” Shiro chided, and you turned to him hoping your eyes were screaming murder as much as your brain was, because really?

A tense silence descended upon the table, with you staring daggers at Shiro, and Lotor glaring at you through food goo, before it was broken with an indignant cry.

“His hair!”

Of course, Lance.

“Don’t you understand how much effort goes into having hair like that? The - all that work - gone to waste -”

“It was FUCKING WARRANTED TRUST ME,” Pidge spoke through gritted teeth, staring at the table with wide eyes. Matt sent her a confused glance, before turning to Lotor.

“What did you just say to traumatise my little sister?”

A heavy weight dropped in your stomach as you realised - “Oh GOD you heard that.”

Pidge nodded, still not looking anywhere but directly in front of her. Even Lotor had the decency to look relatively ashamed. Allura narrowed her eyes at the prince, crossing her arms, while Keith’s eyes darted rapidly around the room with confusion.

The room became instantly more uncomfortable, and you felt a hot flush creep up your neck. Any minute now -

“So, uh… what did he say, exactly?” Keith asked, eyebrows raised.

“You don’t want to FUCKING KNOW,” Pidge groaned, leaning forwards to whack her head on the table. At this, Shiro frowned at Lotor too, shoulders rising. The half-Galran looked around the room; Lance appearing conflicted, Keith, Hunk and Coran confused, Matt and Shiro intimidating, Pidge mortified, and Allura murderous. Evaluating his choices, he appeared to come to a smart conclusion, because the prince mumbled an apology in your direction before leaving the room in a hurry.

As you were getting ready for bed that evening, you were disturbed by a knock at the door. Opening it to see Lotor, looking sheepish, you tensed, back straightening.

After waiting for him to say something, and instead meeting an awkward silence, you cleared your throat.

“What do you want?”

Cheeks flushing a slightly darker shade of purple, Lotor refused to meet your eyes as he spoke.

“It has been brought to my attention that my behaviour towards you has been… extremely inappropriate.”

“You can say that again,” you snorted, and received a harsh glare. Unfazed, you smirked in return. “Just telling it like it is, Prince L’Oreal.”

“It was not in my intention to make you uncomfortable.” Still looking anywhere but at your face, Lotor continued. “I wish to apologise for my behaviour.”

Analysing the man in front of you, you considered your options. You could refuse his apology, and either he’d stay away from you… or he’d keep the comments coming with a vengeance. That, or you could accept his apology and see how things went.

“You’ll stop with the unwanted comments?” “Of course.”

You fixed Lotor with a suspicious stare, scrutinising him with your gaze. While he still didn’t meet your eyes, he did appear sincere.

“Fine.”

He looked up at that, blue eyes gazing directly into yours. “… ‘fine’?”

“Fine.”

Appearing satisfied, the prince turned and walked away. Just as you made to return to the safety of your room, he swivelled on one foot and appeared in your doorway again. Your eyelids lowered in exasperation.

“What now?”

Once again, he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“The Princess, ah… advised… that if I really desired you the way I do, I should court you.”

You blinked.

“Court me?”

“Yes.” Gaining confidence, Lotor extended a hand to you. “Spend time with you. Buy you gifts. Make you happy.”

Courting. No one on Earth did that anymore; romance had mainly descended to ‘send nudes’ and the occasional date. It sounded… old-fashioned, sure, but kinda nice.

The only thing you were doubtful of was the person you’d be courting.

You began to evaluate the decision in your head. First and foremost, Lotor was certainly not lacking in the looks department, that was for sure. However, you’d been fighting against him for months, and still weren’t necessarily able to trust him. Also, he’d been a dick similar to the fuckboys you’d encountered back home. Ew.

Still, he seemed sincere in his apology, and his intent. Besides, you could easily end the process whenever you wanted to - with the knowledge that Allura would kick his ass if he did anything to hurt you.

Well…

“You know what? Sure.”

Before Lotor could speak, you uttered one last sentence before closing the door in his face. “But I expect flowers, bitch.”

#my writing #fanfiction #x reader #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #prince lotor #lotor #vld lotor #prince lotor x reader #lotor x reader

[nashucks]

let me ease that headache for u

Koo Junhoe (iKON) [JunhoeXReader] | SMUT, i tried doing pwp but i failed | WC: 2.3k words 

request: im in NO way forcing u to write one for me btw.. but if i have to i like reading shower/rough sexc scene or him eating out a puthee THAT BEING SAID im so sry @ god 

a/n: this was a request from an irl, bestie on twt soo!!!!! we tried... it’s been a while so we’re kinda rusty. sorry! 

Enough is enough.

You slam your pen down and push yourself off the desk, sending your chair rolling to the middle of the room. One more second with this headache and you might break something.

Standing with a satisfying stretch, you make your way to the bathroom door down the hall, where you can hear the shower running.

“Junhoe?” You rap your knuckles lightly on the hardwood.

“What’s up, babes?”

You smile to yourself at the nickname. “I have to check the medicine cabinet, can I come in?”

“Come on in.”

The heat and steam that hits you as you open the door is somewhat soothing. You find exactly what you’re looking for, the Tiger Balm hiding on the top shelf behind the bathroom mirror. “Oh, thank god,” you mumble.

“You okay?” Junhoe’s back is turned to you. Your eyes have a hard time not following the soap suds that trail down his toned shoulders, the dip of his spine, his perky cheeks.

You swallow thickly, blush climbing up your cheeks. “Uh, I—uh headache. I’ve got a headache.”

He must’ve picked up on your fumbled words. His grin is smug when he looks over his shoulder at you, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “You look ready to eat me up, Y/N.”

You give a little shrug as you reach for the door handle, “I mean, I would, but I have to finish my assignment.” You gesture in the direction of the study.

“You’re sure?” Junhoe’s tone suggests mischief.

“Yes,” you insist.

“And,” he draws the word out as he turns to face you, raising an elbow to lean against the shower wall and placing his other hand on his hip. “You’re sure there’s no way I can change your mind?” He looks you dead in the eye, but he’s clearly resisting the urge to laugh. It takes you half a second to realize he’s rock hard.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but it does nothing to stop the scoff of shocked laughter. In the same instant, something swoops to the bottom of your belly and pools there. Junhoe’s just asking for it now.

“Fuck you, Junhoe,” You groan before whipping your t-shirt off and tossing it to the floor along with the Tiger Balm in your hands. “You really love making me suffer.”

You’re treated to a laugh. As you push your leggings down your thighs, Junhoe wraps a hand around his cock, stroking firmly as he watches you with eyes now dark with want. It’s ridiculously sexy and you feel yourself pulsing between your legs. Once you’re fully stripped, Junhoe steps away from the spray of the shower to pull you in. He reaches for the hair tie holding your loose bun in place as he claims your lips in a hungry kiss. His mouth is hot and slick, as is his wet skin against your own—you run your hands down his chest to rest on his hips. When your hair falls down your back, his fingers tangle themselves in it, only to tug your face gently away from his.

Junhoe’s face is deeply flushed, a lopsided smile lifting the corner of his lips. “Let’s get you wet.”

“I already am,” you grin, before he pulls you backwards into the stream of hot water. It barely has time to hit your face before Junhoe covers your mouth with his own, his tongue demanding entrance. You give in immediately as his hands, squeezes, pinches and soothes, finding their way to your breasts. Between you, his erection brushes against your stomach, and you shiver before reaching for it responsively.

With nothing but your fingertips, you stroke him gently from base to tip and back again. The feel of delicate skin, every vein and ridge, and the heat and hardness of him drives you mad. You want nothing more than to drop to your knees. But for now, you bask in the noises the touch provokes, the jerk of his hips into your hand.

“Such a fucking tease,” he hisses into your mouth. His thumbs ghost small circles over your hard nipples, and you gasp, fingers wavering in their slow path.

“You want this, yes?” He asks against your lips.

“Yes, please,” you breathe.

Junhoe breaks the kiss, and you have to blink water out of your eyes to meet his heavy gaze. His hand glides down your body to push your thighs apart, and you suck in a sharp breath as he runs two fingers through the slick of you, just barely grazing your clit and only teasing your entrance before he takes them away again.

You choke at the loss of his skillful fingers, but then they’re at your lips, and Junhoe’s watching you with dark, expectant eyes, so you take them into your mouth greedily. You don’t look away, your eyes fluttering closed briefly as you taste yourself. In your still hand, Junhoe’s cock twitches, so you suck a little harder and run your tongue along the underside of his digits, and he twitches again, this time with a soft moan.

With a pop, he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. “So fucking good,” he purrs as you coax him down by a fist full of his hair to kiss him again.

Junhoe wastes no time in slipping his hand between your legs, this time with full intention of depriving you of your ability to stand. You give a little hum as his fingers find their way to your clit. The smooth, soft pressure of his fingers is borderline euphoric, until it becomes maddening, and your hips start to jerk at each careful stroke. Your hands move from his hair to squeezing his broad shoulders. “Fucking—oh—Junhoe,” you moan between laboured breaths, words faltering when his fingers press just a little harder.

With no warning other than a low chuckle, Junhoe leans down to slide two fingers into the heat of you. You moan, deep and drawn out, and tip your head back into the spray of the shower at the satisfaction. When you look back at him, he’s watching you with hungry eyes, a smirk at the corner of his lips. You want to wipe it away with a kiss, but the hand working in you moves faster, harder, and you have to brace yourself on his shoulders as your knees buckle.

With a crook of his fingers in the perfect place, they give in again, and there’s the indecipherable string of moans and curses now leaving your mouth that you can’t stop. You glance at Junhoe as his brows are knit in concentration, the muscles in his arm and shoulder beneath your hand taut with effort. As some thought about perfection manages to register in the back of your mind, he looks up at you with a large shit-eating grin. He shifts slightly, his palm now grazing your clit with every pump of his hand, his fingers inside you working quickly, exactly where you need them.

He suddenly removes his fingers and you’re one second away from exploding before the sight of him getting down on his knees stop you, his head placed between your legs as he nibbles on your inner thighs and breathes intensely against your heat. The water drums on his back as he looks up to meet your eyes.

“Junhoe, please,” you beg.

“Please… what?”

“Your tongue. I want your tongue, please.”

Junhoe smirks and dips his head down as you feel his tongue swipe across your entrance. You lay your head back as he sucks on your clit and his tongue darting in and out of your pussy. Junhoe was already accustomed to your g-spot, flicking his tongue repeatedly and you’re trying your best to not slip in the shower. He lifts your left leg to rest on his shoulder so that he’s exposed to more access of your pussy as he continues his work with his mouth—his sinful tongue, and fuck, his plump lips. Your hands run to the ends of his hair and his neck while you try to maintain your balance and you find yourself pressing him deeper, further and forward as he drives you to another orgasm. Release begins to bloom, and his name joins the nonsense you’re spouting until it’s all you can say, louder and higher each time. Junhoe’s pace becomes vigorous, and it’s your undoing.

You come hard. The ecstasy that rips through your body deprives you of breath and balance—and Junhoe catches you in his arms when you stumble forwards, trembling, your thighs clamped around his finger that slipped in to your clit, slowly helping you near the edge of your climax. Hips bucking with the last waves of your release, you press your forehead to the crook of his neck as he holds you close as you come down. Junhoe presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“How’s that headache of yours?”

You tip your head back to smile up at him. “What headache?” you tease softly.

He laughs and shakes his head as he brings his lips to yours.

It’s gentle at first, Junhoe’s kiss, until he slides his hands down your back to grab your ass and coaxes your tongue into his mouth with his own. There’s an urgency about it, and you’re aware again of his erection pressed between your bodies.

“Proud of yourself?” He didn’t answer, only kept grinning, cocking his head to the side modestly.

Smug bastard.

“You’re still hard,” you noted, grabbing the body wash and lathering your hands with it, running them over his chest, the soapy water making it a tantalizingly slick glide. Your hands roam down to his sturdy thighs and around to his muscular ass, as your fingernails bite into the skin there. Back over his hip to his girth, swinging back and forth like an almost vertical baton as you stroked it in your hands.

And he was pulling you even closer—if that was even possible—pulling your legs so they were wrapped around him, as he effortlessly held your body in his arms, taking all of your weight as if you weighed nothing, restraining you with one arm while the other reached down and guided his cock against you—into you.

You let out a shout as he hitched his hips before driving himself into you, up until the thick hilt. Junhoe paused, not trusting himself for a moment as the both of you panted, the tip of his nose hidden in the crook of your neck. You felt him inside you, so tense, so hard, his pulse hot and throbbing. And then he moved, bouncing you against him, pushing into you over and over again. Your wet mouths met, swallowing the wails and whimpers escaping your throat, the growls of pleasure coming from him and the approaching fulfillment of both.

Junhoe pushed you up against the pipe of the showerhead that sat atop, one of your hands reaching up to cling onto it, to gain leverage to hitch your hips to meet his thrusts. You angled your body so your clit brushed against his furry groin, pushing deeper into you.

That moment, that perfect moment, lasted, and lasted, his big hands gripping your ass, confirmed to leave marks later but you didn’t care as his cock plunged into your clinging velvet lips over and over again, deeper, harder, until you felt his tip against your deepest insides, and that was enough for you to come once more. He followed right after, the first explosion of his cum surging into you so strongly that you were seeing black dots, the climax so intense as he pulled out and gushed in hot streams just inside your soft lips, against the wall, and against your marked thighs.

“Wow,” you panted, your brow furrowed, your small hands reaching up to touch his face, urging him to open his eyes he’d screwed shut in bliss. “Baby.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, holding your tremulous body to his.

He leans his backside against the countertop and pulls you with him, grinning cheekily at you. “What?” you asked with practiced, confrontational innocence. “I’m acting out because I have a famous boyfriend and he’s rarely home.” He chuckled and bobbed his head, acknowledging the point.

Junhoe wraps an arm around your shoulders and cradles you to his chest. His other hand cups your face, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone as he brings his lips to yours. Sweet and soft, you kiss him back and melt into his touch. When he pulls away, his eyes are warm and glassy, and full of something that gives you butterflies.

“I know. But I love you, and I’ll give you everything if I could,” he breathes.

Your heart is as full of tenderness as your stomach is of butterflies. “I love you, too, Junhoe,” you croak. The crack in your voice takes you by surprise and you cough into his chest.

“Are you okay?” He massages little circles onto your back.

“Never better, just a bit sore,” you pout.

His arm encircling your shoulders gives a small squeeze and he presses a kiss to your forehead. His voice is low in your ear, his smirk practically audible. “If it makes you feel better, I’m all yours for the rest of the week. Still sore?” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“It’s gonna be one hell of a week, huh?” You can feel a soft, stupid, dopey smile on your face, not unlike the one on Junhoe’s lips. “You wanna go take a nap first?”

“What about your work?”

“I’m over it,” you sigh, defeated.

Junhoe leans around you to shut off the shower that has long since run cold. “Then a nap sounds fantastic.”

#junhoe #koo junhoe #ikon smut #ikon scenarios #ikon requests #ikon junhoe #ikon net? #i've never written for ikon before wheW #ikon fluff #junhoe smut #junhoe scenarios #junhoe requests #nashwrites

[nagatsukinura119]

Ramble and thoughts on V route

[A bit of (or maybe huge) spoiler alert for those who haven’t played/finished the route]

I just finished V’s route and got the Normal Ending. I have to say that I have so many thoughts and feelings that leave me like an empty shell. 

Okay, I already knew from the start that Zen wasn’t gonna be involved too deep with the story besides sharing what he feels or thinks about the current situation in chat rooms (and babysitting Yoosung). But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t disappointed that he, Yoosung and Jaehee were practically thrown aside. Technically Jaehee was still kept close because of her position as Jumin’s assistant, but nevertheless I still feel that the Casual Story members were regarded very little in V’s route. But it can’t really be helped because I knew from the start that Zen’s involvement with RFA was a bit too “eeeh”. Sure, he’s indebted to V for saving his life during a motorcycle accident and that’s why he joined RFA, but I still felt like he was a bit off from the rest of the group. I mean, the next member I’d say is a bit of “eeeh” within the group is Yoosung. He might be in the group because he’s Rika’s cousin and that she feels comfortable for a family to be a part of what she loves to do. And perhaps they needed someone who’s familiar with a group of people of his age and class to know what they think about charity fundraising parties (I don’t know what I’m rambling about here). But what can Zen do to help RFA since he was just a mediocre musical actor? I guess like Yoosung, all he could do was just tell his (hopefully rich) co-workers about the parties. I’m guessing they were just satisfied to get as many hands to help as possible. And then I recalled in V’s route that Yoosung said that so far, they’ve conducted 2 parties, and the latest one would be the previous year. So I wondered how successful was RFA, really, if not including their small charity events?

Sorry, that was getting off the topic that I intended to talk about.

Back to V’s Normal Ending and some parts of the story, I’m just gonna say that although it’s generally a happy ending for MC since we’re shown that 2 years after the incident with Rika, her exploded apartment as well as Mint Eye’s fall, MC and V are living together, and as V said, they’re in love. It’s all happy for V and MC in the end, but I can’t say that I am happy. At least not wholly because, hey, the man deserved happiness after all the shit he went through.

First of all, I’ve got so many questions stuck in my head up until now. Like, if V’s route was set 1 year before the current story (I’m guessing the Deep Story since it’s been theorized as the True Story if you’re in Seven’s route), then, the events happened in Seven’s route where V was shot and died, did that happen in a parallel world or something? I think I’ve missed and skipped a lot of info that I needed to answer these questions (I avoided Tumblr and any place that could give me spoilers while I played the game). However! The disappearance of Ray and the appearance of Unknown (Saeran) implied that because MC decided to shag with V, Ray lost the person whom he claimed to really care, and apparently fell in love with. Because of this, as well as Rika’s changes of plans that involved the MC, pushed Ray so hard that his dangerous split persona resurfaced, and I believe this Unknown is the Unknown that we got introduced to in the Casual and Deep Story, which makes me believe that the Normal Ending is somewhat still connected to the world that we know. But, here’s the catch, if the Normal Ending leads to the current story, then what happened to V, who appeared to get his happy ending with MC and with perfectly good eyes? Then what happened to the MC in his route? Did she get kidnapped, or died in an accident that involved him which led to his eyesight getting messed up? Is that why he was so persistent to not get any treatment? Because he felt so guilt ridden by MC’s death? And where does that leave us? Are we playing two different MC’s, one from V’s route and another from Casual/Deep Story? Because of this I actually believe that there are 2 MC’s in Mystic Messenger universe.

From the beginning, I never really thought Rika as the antagonist, at least not on purpose. In Day 10′s chat room, Rika was pleading so hard towards V and MC to let her stay with them (I’m not sure if she meant stay, as in just in the chat room, or physically). She was literally begging like a child. She said she would be a good girl, sit quietly in her room, listen to what MC and V tell her, she won’t cry, never throw a fit, won’t express her feelings, she would eat little without complaint, and basically won’t talk to other people and stay locked in the house. She would live lifelessly like a paper doll. Hell, she would even allow MC to end up with V!

Sure, this might be one of her tricks and guilt cards to make MC and V fall into her trap, like her constant plea towards MC to stay with her (though the situation felt almost too intense to be platonic). But I can’t help but feel that her pleas and cry for help is real. Think about it; she started of groveling for help and pleas not to leave her, and then a switch went off and her raging side came out and started telling MC and V and to give her sun back (I’m guessing the sun would be V), and even threatened them that she would exact her revenge on MC who stole V from her. BUT instantly she went back to begging like the beginning of this chat. What’s more is that, this time she even apologized for everything she had done. The emotional transition between her anguish and angry sides was just a bit too real for someone to be faking around. 

My theory: And speaking of her revenge on MC, I’m starting to think that the current MC (MC(A)) might be dead by Rika’s hands somewhere in the future (because we know Rika didn’t die in the explosion in order for her to still be alive in Deep Story) and that is also an act of revenge towards V who left her (hence explaining why she despised him in this story). This feels like too far-fetched but isn’t that what fan theories are all about? But if this theory is plausible, how would this explain the apartment that the MC from Casual/Deep Story (MC(B)) would be staying in, as well as no one’s memories of Rika being the antagonist or MC(A)’s existence? Also, the timeline wouldn’t make sense, because in Casual/Deep Story, Rika’s death was supposed to happen a year and a half before MC was introduced to RFA. And if at this point V was dating with MC(A) then why didn’t anyone mention this to MC(B)? So… theory debunked?

Now, I did say that I never see Rika as the bad guy, but I’m not saying that we can just forgive her and let bygones be bygone, but I’m not saying that she deserved all the stuff that happened to her either. Everyone in the game deserved to be happy.

I think she was just awfully lonely and needed love. We never know if she had genuine friends before meeting V. Then we learned that Rika had a good relationship with V for some time and she struck a friendship with Jumin along the way. We know that she is a fan of Zen (as she claimed) and it seems like she was a normal person. But turns out she had serious mental issues and this should remind us that some things that she did were things out of her control, especially when her mad and delusional side controlled her most of the time. What I see here is that she’s just a victim of mental issues and she needed help and shouldn’t be antagonized entirely. Her extreme acts should be blamed, but not her.

Playing this game while dealing with so many deadlines can be very emotionally draining and honestly sometimes I question my sanity like am I thinking about and caring for the characters in the game too much? What if the game is actually based on real people? What if we’re in the same situation like MC in V’s route, who was lured into this game by someone? These questions tend to keep me bedridden and feeling empty at times.

See what I mean? I was never considered having any mental problems or something like that, but here I am, questioning all these questions like a mad person. Maybe it’s because of the stress from my daily life? Who knows, but one thing for sure is that if I’m affected like this by just something so trivial like a game, imagine how Rika must have dealt with her legit health issues. And as for her withdrawing herself from V, I can only think that she was so used to having darkness (or to put simply, dark thoughts) within her and the belief that nobody wanted her must have been permanently scarred her mind and she believed that being unwanted makes up what she was. So, when V came in, she was really happy to be loved but later on the feeling was strange and unnatural for her, to the point that she thought the more she was loved, the more she was losing herself. Hence explaining why she chose to separate from V and embrace her ‘darkness’ which is basically herself. But at the same time, I think she was conflicted with her decision to either choose herself or being with V, because clearly she was also very in love with him. I think her fit of rage in Day 10 might be a possibility of her having Borderline Personality Disorder.

I’ll be honest that I wasn’t giving my 100% focus in the game and sometimes I’d just skim through at whatever popped in the chat rooms (the chats can be too long for my liking). That’s why I’m thinking to re-play the game and give it more focus and analyze V’s route with deeper thoughts so that I can actually accept the aftermath of his and Rika’s relationship. I’m also very curious to what the other endings would show us. Hell, if the Normal Ending is THIS happy and satisfying, I can just imagine what the actual Good Ending would offer (I’m still avoiding spoilers here).

Though to be honest I never wanted to play as an MC who would have a romantic relationship or story with V because I’ve come to believe that he was so blindly (pun intended) in love with Rika that it feels like it’s impossible for him to fall for a stranger within 11 days (but then again, this IS Mystic Messenger, where people get to fall in love quickly, even though you barely seeing each other). I’m not saying that he doesn’t have the right to love again, because he DOES. But personally, I just don’t think I have that capabilities to help him nor that I have so much maternal instincts to save him. That’s also why I never see or want Saeran in a romantic way. I just want to help them to be happy again as a platonic friend. Although V’s relationship with Rika was unhealthy, it can’t be denied that they WERE happy and shit just started and broke them apart. Being a helpless romantic, I always believed that there was still some hope for them to be happy together, and I actually hoped V’s route involved helping them to mend their relationship, if not just help to resolve their conflict. 

And also, let’s not forget about Ray, Unknown’s gentler side personality. It can’t be helped that I also felt the need to save the sweet guy, and at the same time it was pretty worrying if I were to really fall for him I might actually have Stockholm Syndrome. Sure, MC wasn’t really kidnapped by force per say, but it can’t be denied that she was locked up in some unknown place that she was brought to with a blindfold. That alone was quite disturbing but then again, I DID play Shall We Date’s Blood in Roses and chose to shag with Rupert which eventually made me realize that maybe some MC’s in otome games need to have Stockholm Syndrome just to pull the player’s heartstring for the sake of what is called ‘romance’… Anyways, I wasn’t really sure what really happened to him in the end of Normal Ending. First, Rika apparently died in the explosion of her apartment, and so did Mint Eye’s building so where does that leave Ray (at this point Unknown)? Did he also supposedly get blown into bits? If so that is more depressing than what I actually expected because poor Seven would never know the truth about his brother.

#mystic messenger #mm #v route #v #jihyun kim #rambles and thoughts #i think i'm just overthinking #fan theory

[spinach-productions]

Baby Spinach, chapter 1

Summary: an important man finds something in a bush.  Hot drinks are made.

Word count: 2623

199x: a monster child quietly eases a door closed behind him.  Once he’s satisfied he hasn’t raised any alarms, he walks across the dark room to a crib in the far corner.

The skeletal baby inside watches him with interest.

Sans leans over the railing and picks at his non-existent fingernails.  “I figured it out,” he says smugly, “We don’t need you anymore.  You’ll be back where you came from as soon as I figure out how to take you apart.”

The baby kicks off his blankets and makes a cooing noise.

“Shh,” Sans hisses.  He pokes the baby’s stomach to quiet it down.

The baby giggles and grabs the finger with both tiny hands.  He inspects it carefully from several different angles.  Sans, feeling magnanimous, allows this; when he doesn’t pull back, the baby stuffs the finger into his mouth.

Sans makes a face.  “Gross.  Stop.”

The baby doesn’t let go.  It takes a minute of gentle wrestling for Sans to get his hand back, and it’s covered in baby drool.  The baby seems to think this is absolutely hilarious and laughs uproariously.

“Shh,” Sans says again, drawing the blanket over the baby’s shoulders in an attempt to calm it.

“Sss,” the baby repeats back at him.

-

W.D. Gaster’s current form is five-foot-eleven and weighs approximately forty pounds, depending on whether or not he’s remember to eat recently.  He likes wearing turtlenecks and lab coats, even when they’re not appropriate or seasonal, because he doesn’t have the time or inclination to figure out another form of dress.  He has a hairline crack running down one side of his face that he’s been meaning to repair for some time, and keeps misplacing his hands when he’s focused on something else.  Once he’s realized they’re missing, it’s easy enough to send out tendrils of magic to reattach them, but he likes to keep a few extra pairs in his desk for when he doesn’t have time to find them.

He is head of the royal laboratory, hired by the King himself, where he specializes in energy conservation and storage.  Gaster likes to personally sign off on all reports about technology and magic (and read a few of his colleagues' papers before they're sent for publication, just for fun), which is why he has a stack of papers held at eye-level as he walks home on a darkened evening.  He takes the route home that requires the least amount of attention for this exact reason.

“Careful, doctor,” his assistant had said teasingly as he prepared to go home for the day, handing him the bag of papers and leftovers he'd almost left behind, “You're going to get hurt if you don't pay attention to where you’re going.  Make sure you watch out for the construction on Fourth.”

Gaster waves him off.  He knows every step of the path forwards and backwards, just like he knows exactly who uses this route at this time of day.  He knows when to when to speed up to avoid getting stuck at the Main and Market crosswalk and when take a step to the side so a delivery person can go by.  Everything is perfectly avoidable, and he can predict everything that will happen because he's seen all these things before.

Unfortunately, some things can't be predicted.  Like construction on Fourth street leaving behind small particles of debris for Gaster to trip over.  He staggers over the curb and straight into the decorative bushes lining the road.

And finds a pair of startled blue eyes staring at him from between the branches.

And is violently jettisoned back out of the bush?

That, Gaster thinks as he sails through the air back into the street, is not what he was expecting.  He takes a moment to review this new information as he crashes into the asphalt and his various papers explode out of his arms and the streetlight buzzes in the presence of a magic surge strong enough to interrupt the illumination, and a small figure bursts out of the hedge.

“Wait,” Gaster calls, “Look out for—” 

The figure trips over the same rock. 

He manages to spin mid-air to land on his back and skid gracelessly into the same circle of light Gaster is currently occupying, giving him a good look at the unexpected powerful monster he just found in a bush.  He tilts his head to one side, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.  The only things he can definitely say about the monster are that they're short and dirty; they're wearing several layers of clothes all stained in shades of mud.  Beyond that, they seem to be some sort of skeletal monster, but Gaster hasn't seen a bone structure like this before.  Bipedal, two arms, unusually articulated hands clutching a bundle of blankets to their skeletal chest.  He's seen hands like those before.  After a moment of thought, he calls his own hands back from where they’ve skittered across the pavement.  The joints seem to match in number and placement.  Gaster feels his stomach drop.

These hands were modeled after human hands.  How did this short, dirty skeleton get a pair of human hands?

Speculation will have to wait.  The skeleton is already lurching to his feet, clearly trying to put as much distance between himself and Gaster as possible.

“Wait,” Gaster says again.

This time, he's interrupted by an unhappy noise.  The skeleton's eye flick briefly to the knot of fabric in their arms, and to Gaster's amazement, two more eyes light up from inside the bundle.

“No, shh,” the skeleton says in an extremely young voice.

“You're a child!”  Gaster exclaims, because that explains the height but why the skeleton had enough magic to throw him from a bush or why he may have been modeled after humans.

The bundle makes a quiet, high-pitched noise, then starts to wail.

“No, not now,” the skeleton child whines, desperately bouncing the crying thing in the bundle without taking his eyes off Gaster, “Please not now.”

“Excuse me,” Gaster says, brushing a few papers off his coat, “If I may—”

“Don't you come any closer,” the skeleton child says.  Both his eyes light from the inside, and the streetlamp begins to flicker again.

Gaster plows on anyway.  “I realize it's none of my business, but I've cataloged more than thirty varieties of infant noises, and that sounds like a cry of hunger with undertones of fatigue.”

“No shit, genius,” the child hisses.  He’s given the infant their free hand to gnaw on, which seems to have stopped the crying for now.

“Several studies have proven that it isn't wise to allow an adolescent to go without adequate nutrition for an extended period of time, particularly young infants like you've got there, but I'd be grossly remiss if I didn't point out that you are also probably a young child and therefore require an intake of somewhere between 1000 to 1400 calories per day.”

“Shut up,” the child growls.

The light bursts, leaving the skeleton child's eyes as the only source of illumination.  Gaster feels the same blue magic from earlier cascade over his skin.  His papers a thrown upwards and set in some kind of suspension in the air, and Gaster himself is lifted several feet off the ground.

He keeps talking.  “You seem to be acting as guardian for the loud one, so I’m willing to guess that if you don't have enough resources for them, you probably haven't had a decent meal for a while yourself, and while you lack the usual indicators a traditional monster might give, I suspect you're probably also suffering the effects of malnutrition, possibly borderline starvation given that you seem to have been living in a hedge.  Did you know that prolonged lack of nutrients can have lasting effects on physical development?  You seem to be slightly behind the average, but with proper nutrition you may experience an increased velocity of growth in the next few years, which could be upwards of fifteen to twenty percent of your final height and mass.  I believe I have a report on something to that effect here...”  Gaster begins shuffling through the papers hovering around him, collecting things that look like they pertain to nutrition or child rearing.

The skeleton child watches him.  He looks confused and slightly dazed, which is something Gaster often sees when he starts explaining something.

“Hmm, I seem to have packed this one into my bag.  Could you hand it to me?”

The child cocks an eyebrow at him, but the bag floats in Gaster's direction.  He catches it out of the air and riffles through the contents.

“Ah, here we are!  I believe you'll find Mister Colorata's work to be most informative.  Also, here's half a sandwich.  I'd offer you an entire sandwich, but it was my lunch this afternoon and I didn't know we'd be crossing paths today.”

The report and sandwich leave Gaster's hands.  The skeleton child glances over the top page.  “...thanks, I guess.”

“You're welcome to any of the reports I've brought with me, if you don't mind them being slightly out of order,” he says, gesturing to the papers scattered across the area.  “Do you have any particular interests?  I'm currently editing papers on magic containment, advances in communication technology, the latest findings in the field of underground agriculture, the one on adolescent nutrition you're holding there, and a few wacky ideas on number theory that I'm saving for when I need a laugh.”

The child looks at the mess he made.  His eyes are still glowing strongly, but he’s no longer exhibiting aggressive behavior.  “Shouldn't this be classified or something?”

Gaster shrugs and makes an I-don't-know noise.

He seems to think this over for a long moment, tucking the sandwich and the report on nutrition into their largest coat while the infant settles again.  “Do you have anything on the different types of magic?”

Gaster sifts through the papers.  “I don't believe so, but if you're going to be in the area for a while I do have some books I could lend you.”  He runs his own words back and listens to them again.  “A better idea would probably be to invite you to stay on my couch, so you don't have to read them on the street.  I find reading usually requires some kind of light source and you seem to burn out streetlamps.”

The child looks utterly perplexed.   He glances at the streetlight when Gaster gestures towards it.  “What?”

“If you could set me down and help me gather my things, we can move on.”

The child studies Gaster for a long time.  Gaster takes the opportunity to collect the papers he can reach and attempts to reassemble them.  The child watches this.

“Do you have more sandwiches?”  He finally asks.

Gaster thinks this over as he tries to organize a set of unnumbered pages. “I probably could make some more.” 

-

The loud thing in the blanket also seems to be some version of a miniaturized human skeleton.  Gaster assumes that this is what young human bone structure looks like, but has nothing to compare it to since he’s never seen a non-adult human.  He also he no idea why two human skeletons have animated and begun hiding in bushes in the Underground, but these questions get pushed aside when his limited knowledge of hosting kicks in.

“Would you like a hot drink?”  He asks, hanging up his coat and dropping his bag on the couch.

The skeleton child doesn’t answer immediately.  Gaster looks back to find them standing next to the coat rack, taking in the details of his modest apartment.  It has a sitting room, a kitchen, and two bedrooms, one of which is currently used as an office.

“Children like cocoa, don’t they?”  He prompts.

“I don’t know what that is,” the child replies, now examining the loan coat hanging on the rack.

“I’ll make some, and you can decide if you like it.”  Gaster lights the stove sets a pot to boil, then pauses as he remembers one of his guests is probably an infant.  “What do babies eat?”

“I’ve been feeding Paps cat food.  Anything soft will work.”

Gaster remembers reading that babies have exacting dietary needs, and he’s fairly certain cat food won’t meet them.  More than that, feeding a guest cat food is probably rude.  The cupboards are almost bare, but some rummaging in the back of the fridge reveals a cup of applesauce that hasn’t passed its sell-by date.  “Is applesauce good for babies?”

The skeleton child wanders into the kitchen.  “Probably.  Let me see.”  He takes the container in one hand, the other still occupied with the baby.

“Do you want me to hold—”

The light over the sink explodes and Gaster is thrown to the other side of the kitchen.  He doesn’t lose his footing this time, but does have to grab the counter on his way past to keep from slamming into the wall.

“No,” says a pair of glowing blue eyes that hover where the child was standing.

Glass shards clink and catch the light of the stove as they rain down into his sink.  Gaster watches them with a frown.  He knows this is a significant development, but since he doesn’t know how what to do with this information, he instead focuses the other problem in the room.  “These lightbulbs are clearly sub-standard.  What’s your output?  I may write a letter of complaint to the company.”

The glow fades.  “Uh.”

“Hold on, let me find something more durable before I clean up.  I think I have a reinforced flashlight somewhere…”

Gaster shoos the child away from the broken glass, then starts rummaging around the kitchen drawers for emergency lighting and a dustpan.  A short cleanup and one pot of boiling water later, he dumps a packet of instant hot chocolate into a mug and finishes it off with a straw.

The child stares at it.

“So you can drink it one handed,” Gaster explains.

He takes the cup.  The baby watches as their guardian takes a tentative sip.

“It’s hot,” the child says.

“It’s a hot drink,” Gaster agrees.

He takes another sip.  “I like it.”

Gaster beams.  “Very good.  Now we have food for you and the loud one.”

“Papyrus,” the child says offhandedly.

“Now we have… Papyrus for you and the loud one?”

The child snorts.  He then coughs a few times and wipes his nose with an arm.  “No, his name is Papyrus.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.”  Gaster says to the smaller skeleton child.  “Tell him I said it’s nice to meet him.”

“He can’t talk yet,” the child says, taking a seat at one of the mismatched kitchen chairs.  He settles the baby in his lap and attacks the applesauce container’s freshness seal.

Papyrus grabs the spoon as soon as it’s close enough.  He shoves it into his mouth and chews on the end.

“Is he teething?”  Gaster asks.  “Do skeletons teeth?”  He amends.

The child shrugs.  “I don’t know what that is.”

“Teething is when an infant’s deciduous teeth begin to erupt through the gums.  Since neither you nor Papyrus seem to have gums, I have to assume there’s an alternative to the teething process.”

The child coaxes the spoon away from Papyrus.  He looks at it for a moment, then picks up the applesauce.  “…my name is Sans,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” Gaster says.  “Did you teethe?”

“I don’t remember,” Sans replies, feeding another Papyrus another spoonful of applesauce.

Gaster mulls this over.  “I suspect you didn’t, but I didn’t either.  I supposed we’re both outside the normal maturation process.”

Sans shrugs.  “I don’t know what the normal maturation process is.”

“I’ve read reports on the subject, but I must admit that I haven’t seen the maturation process first hand.  It’s my understanding that there’s more of an average than  should probably consult a specialist further.”  Gaster makes a mental note to talk with his coworkers who have children and for more information.  “Shall I set you up for the night?”

-

Gaster digs up every spare piece of bedding he owns and piles them all on his bed.  “Will that be enough?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” says the child buried in the mountain of pillows and towels and blankets. 

With a short bid goodnight, Gaster leaves them to their own devices and leaves for his office research on what children like to eat for breakfast.

Author’s note: so I was supposed to finish this up today, but my office closed early and I have to work on THIS OLD MAC THAT I HATE.  So I’ll clean this up in the morning.  GOODNIGHT EVERYONE.

- Baby Spinach - Part 1

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#baby spinach #undertale gaster #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #undertale fanfic #fanfic