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yunggoblin · 10 months

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Always Working - Simon 'Ghost' Riley (18+)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Stripper!Female!Reader

Summary: Simon works as a bouncer at a strip club you perform at and a customer gets a bit handsy.

Warnings: 18+ Blog, Oral (Female Receiving), Cussing, Smut, Riding, Slight Breeding King, PTSD Episode, MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 4,202

If someone were to ask Ghost what he’d do after being in the military he’d most likely just laugh and expect to be dead during battle. Ghost never saw himself in the retirement stage, he lived for the battlefield and he saw himself dying there. But that all changed when Price forced retirement early on Ghost.

Ghost wasn’t the only one, Soap also was forced to retire and a bunch of other men. Price stated there was a younger, fresher batch of men coming into the military and taking over Task Force 141. Ghost didn’t care that he was being replaced, he cared about not working anymore, especially for his country or maybe it was the fact he was scared shitless going back into the community. He didn’t know how he’d act upon regular civilians. The real world wasn’t like his missions he’s been on.

He’s been prepared on how to take an ambush from the enemy but wasn’t ready to speak to an elderly woman who needed help crossing the street or a small child staring at him with his mask over his face. That’s when Ghost realized he was a night person, less innocent people out and about staring at him whereas it seems like barely anyone during the darkness even paid attention to him.

So, what was Ghost doing after being released?

“Ghost.” Someone called out to Ghost who was leaning against the brick wall outside the building, looking towards the indoor bouncer who had a worried look on his face he informed what was going on. “We have a problem with that same guy towards Y/N.”

Ghost nodded, flicking the lit cigarette he was smoking and pushed himself off the wall and switched places with the indoor bouncer so he could check ID’s before anyone enters the strip club. That’s right, Ghost was an overnight bouncer for a strip club. The military retirement settlement checks were pretty damn good, a few hundred thousand a month to cover his bills, food and whatever the hell he wanted to buy, but Ghost was a working man. He couldn’t sit around at home doing nothing all day.

The very first night Ghost was a retired man he walked into this strip club for a drink only to toss out a man who was getting too handsy with a dancer. The owner was slightly intimidated towards Ghost at first only to smile and say; “How would you like a job?” Ever since then Ghost has been working here, that was nearly four months ago.

Ghost knew who the bouncer was talking about, there was an older man named Gary who liked to hit the club right when it opens and toss singles to the girls. Usually he’s on his best behavior for the first few hours but after a few drinks he starts to get handsy and loud towards the women, that’s when Ghosts steps in.

Since the club has been open for a few hours, Ghost knew exactly where Gary was. Ghost past booths full of rowdy men who soon fell quiet towards his presents. The knew not to fuck with Ghost and respect the women if they still wanted to enjoy the entertainment. As the booths were now behind him he could hear the men speak up and cheer once more towards the talent.

Making his way towards the back of the building, Ghost passed by private rooms that were being occupied by private dances. He made his way toward room five only to stop the bartender that was about to walk in there and serve Gary more drinks. “Hold on Daisy, I think Gary here has had enough for the night.”

The small brunette woman nodded and parted ways from Ghost, heading back to the bar to make more drinks for other customers. Ghost pushed past the long black curtains, the room was slightly dimmed with red lights from the corner of the room, music was coming from the speaker while Gary was leaning against the black cushioned leather chair enjoying the view in front of him.

Ghost also was enjoying the show. There you stood in the middle of the room, spinning and twirling around on the silver pole connected front the ceiling to the floor board. The way your half naked body moved swiftly with the music, your hair perfectly falling over your shoulders and the look in your eyes that made Ghost smirk knowing you were in the moment of the dance. Ghost glanced down at Gary, surprisingly shocked that he was well behaving for you, so what Ghost didn’t understand was why did the other bouncer say Gary was being handsy?

The loud echo of the harsh slap rang through Ghost’s ears as his eyes widened with anger. A large red hand print was forming on your bare ass cheek as Gary spanked you hard. You yelped loudly, grabbing the pole and straightening yourself up after bending over to give him a slight view of what your lacy thong was hiding. “Well don’t stop now darling! I have a full chub here!” Gary yelled.

You looked at Ghost, behind Gary who didn’t seem to notice the large bouncer. Ghost’s hand came down, clamping Gary by the back of his neck and lifted him up from the chair. “Shows over.” Ghost snarled.

“H- Hey!” Gary squirmed against Ghost’s strength. “I paid for two hours with her Ghost, you can’t just rob me like that!” Gary tried to fight against Ghost, even digging his heels into the carpet of the floor. Ghost kept moving towards the exit, basically dragging the smaller man. Approaching the door that had the red exit sign Ghost slammed the smaller male against the wall next to the door.

“If I ever see you in here again I’ll fucking gut you myself, do you understand?” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he stared down at the man.

Gary’s frightened features showed Ghost that he wasn’t going to be coming around here anymore. Nodding, Gary swore he wouldn’t come back here. “Good. Now go.” Ghost pushed him towards the exit door and shut it behind him, automatically locking the ex-customer so he wouldn’t come back in. Ghost exhaled through his nostrils, making his black balaclava damp, his tense shoulders slumped as he tried to calm his beating heart.

He felt stares and glances towards him. Slowly turning around to face the people and dancers, everyone was staring at Ghost. “Go back to having a good time. Men, reminder do NOT touch the talent or you will be kicked out!”

All the men murmured and nodded their heads, agreeing with Ghost’s rules and went back to watching the women as they started to dance again. Ghost fixed his mask over his face, clearing his throat as he made sure his appearance was decent once more before seeing you.

Walking down the long hallway towards the back rooms, Ghost stopped at room number five and knocked on the side of the wall before entering. “Come in, Ghost.”

Ghost pulled back the black curtains and entered, watching you pick up the scattered money laid all over the floor, his eyes traced the curve of your ass as you moved around. The small attire you wore gave him very little imagination needed when he could see how hard your nipples were in the bra. “You alright?” His English accent was thicker as he was still slightly angry at the customer for touching you.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You sighed out, combing your fingers through your messy locks. “You know, it feels like we’re robbing the guy.” You chuckled as Ghost squinted at you, confused.

“How so?” Ghost crossed his tattooed covered arms over his large muscular chest.

“Man comes here on a daily basis, always pays well and gets a two hour private lap dance only to not finish it because he can’t keep his hands to himself.” You counted the money in your hands.

“Seems to me someone should follow the rules and he could finish for what he paid for.” Ghost gruffed out.

“Easy big dog, I’m not complaining.” You pulled five twenties out of the pile you had.

“You’re not complaining that he spanked you?” Ghost narrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at you while you walked up to him.

You smiled at how protective Ghost was towards you, even if he didn’t mean to be, but the man was just doing his job. “No, not that. I’m not complaining that he pays nearly three hundred dollars for a two hour private dance only to be kicked out halfway through it and not refunded.” You pushed the one-hundred dollars into Ghost’s black gloved hand. “Besides, I’d rather have someone else’s hand print on my ass than his.” You looked up at Ghost as he stared down at you.

You couldn’t help but to smirk as you love to flirt with the large security bouncer. “Thanks for protecting me, you do more than what Tyler does.” You rolled your eyes knowing the other security guard just ran to Ghost after hearing about the problem.

“Yeah, anything for my favorite girl.” Ghost’s chuckled, he could feel his face heating up underneath his balaclava as he got the hint that you wished it was his hand on your ass. “You know, you really should keep this money. It was you who got assaulted.” Ghost tried to give you back the money but you shoved his hand right back into his chest.

“I know Dale doesn’t pay you shit, keep it.” You encouraged him, patting his hand.

You weren’t wrong, the pay was shit and the hours were long, but Ghost didn’t give a shit about the money or the long shifts as long as he knew you were safe. “Fine, but I’ll be thinking of you when I spend it.”

“I know you think of me a lot, I bet.” You teased him.

Ghost swallowed thickly, shifting his weight on each foot as you laughed at him. “I knew it. I’ll even give you an extra job, walk me to my car after we close so you know I’ll get to it safely?” You pouted up at him, your hand still cupping his that held onto the money.

“I suppose I can put in the overtime.” The outline of his lips twitched upwards as he smirked at you.

“You know what time I get off.” As you slipped past Ghost you gave his ass a light tap in his black tactical pants.

Ghost jumped slightly, watching you leave the small private room. His eyes were on your bare ass as you swayed your hips with each step you took, teasing him. “Little minx.” Ghost grunted, grabbing the inner thigh of his pants and adjusting them so no one could see the lining of his hard cock.

The teasing between you and Ghost started the first week he was employed. At first it was just talking at the bar taking a few shots. Alcohol for him to ease his nerves about being around people, alcohol for you to loosen up and dance in front of strangers. Ghost thought he’d be an alcoholic, it seemed that alcohol helped him and his nerves but he was wrong, it was you who helped him through his anxiety and PTSD moments.

“Ghost, Ghost I need you to breathe.” You said as you pulled Ghost into a closet, shutting and locking the door to have more privacy.

His lungs, it felt like they were collapsing as his throat tightened up and his brain throbbed. Memories, awful memories of his teammates going into battle flashed behind his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” Ghost roared, his hand collided against the wall making a loud ‘thud’ sound. Ghost nearly killed someone.

The man demanded more alcohol and tossed a shot glass towards the bartender Daisy, making it shatter against the wall. The loud sound of glass shattering got Ghost on edge making him flinch from the hectic sound. Grabbing the man by the throat, Ghost pulled out his knife from his hidden tactical pants pocket and held it to his throat. Everyone was scared and shocked by Ghost’s actions but not you.

Your soft hands were on his shoulders and your small voice in his ear telling him to drop the knife and let the man go. He wasn’t going to at first until he felt your soft hands apply pressure to his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. This was a strip club, not the battlefield. Not an abandoned building that he and his squad was clearing out. Ghost stepped away from the man who ran out of the club crying that he was going to call the police.

“If the cops come, Ghost isn’t here. No one of that name works here.” You tol Daisy as you grabbed Ghost’s arm and pulled him towards the closet.

“Talk to me big man.” Your voice was soothing Ghost as he was finally breathing normally.

“Fuck.” Ghost sighed out as the episode he had was out of his system. “I- I guess I just had a PTSD moment.” Ghost scratched the back of his head, the mask he wore was damp with sweat. Ghost looked at your confused expression. “I was in the military, high up.” Ghost explained. “Seen some shit people will kill themselves to not live within their head.”

You nodded, cupping his jaw as you stared up at him. The circles of his eyes smeared in black paint. “If you ever have these episodes, you come to me. I’ll be here for you.” You leaned up towards him and pressed your lips against his skull cheek. “Let's hope we see more of those, you with a knife is pretty hot.”

“Behave yourself, Y/N.” Ghost chuckled as you laughed with him.

“Never heard the word before.” You teased, pulling out an old chair. “Here, chill in here for a bit. If anyone asks about you, not a word about you. If we really need you, we’ll come get you. You just relax.” You patted the top of his head and walked back out to do your job.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Ghost said after you closed the door, not to be used to hospitality.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked Ghost who was waiting by the front door. You tossed on your sweatshirt. After clocking out you changed into your regular street clothes and stuffed your entertainment clothing into your gym bag.

Ghost nodded, opening the door for you. “Bye Y/N, bye Ghost.” Daisy waved from the bar she was cleaning up and refilling bottles after serving customers throughout the night.

“Night Daisy!” You and Ghost said at the same time. The cool late night wind hit you in the face making you shiver, it was a nice night for summer, almost too nice. “It feels like fall time.” You crossed your arms around your body, walking next to Ghost towards your car.

“Hey, I love fall time.”

“Of course you do Ghost boy.” You laughed at him, hinting at his balaclava. “Thanks for walking me to my- what the fuck!” You yelled, noticing your driver side tires were flat. Rushing towards the other side the passenger side tires were also flat, a deep slash visible showing that the tires were no longer compatible to hold air. “Fucking Gary.” You huffed, grazing your tongue over your teeth before you gritted them.

Ghost looked around at the building, seeing a surveillance camera pointing towards the parking lot. “I’ll have Tyler look over the tape and see if it was Gary, we’ll call the cops first thing tomorrow's shift. Luckily we have the bastards file throughout membership. But first,” Ghost pulled out his keys to his car. “Let's get you home.”

You walked with Ghost towards his car. “Oh look at you, protecting me during my shift and driving me home. How will I ever repay you, Ghost?” Jumping into the lifted jeep you shut the door after you sat down in the passenger side.

“I can think of a few ways you can repay me but let’s just get you home first.” Ghost placed his keys into the ignition and drove off to your place.

Arriving at your apartment, Ghost followed you up the stairs stopping at your door. “You want to come inside so I can repay you?” You wiggled the keys into the holder, pushing your door open.

“Yes please.” Ghost followed you inside the apartment, he didn’t really have time to soak in the photos you had hanging up or the books you had placed on the shelves. Ghost grunted lowly as you shoved him down onto the sofa. “You practice at home?” Ghost grinned, seeing the long stripper pole in front of him, standing tall in the middle of the living room.

“Maybe just a little, practice makes perfect.” You said clicking play on the remote having music play from the speakers. You grabbed onto the pole, twirling around on it. As you twisted on the silver cold pole, you stripped bits of clothing here and there all the way down to your bra and panties.

“Practice does indeed lead to perfection.” Ghost hummed, his dark eyes watching you grind against the post. His teeth sinked into his bottom lip as he spread his legs, trying to adjust in his now tight pants.

You couldn’t help but to smirk at Ghost, noticing the large bulge in his black pants. “Awe.” You coo, leaving the post you got on all fours and started to crawl towards Ghost, making sure to give him a perfect view of your breasts peeking out from your bra. Reaching his legs you placed your hands upon his knees, moving them inwards on his inner thighs. “Is my poor Ghost boy hard?”

Ghost’s breath hitched in his throat as your soft hands grazed against his hard cock underneath his pants. “Hmm, fuck.” He groaned, trying not to buck his hips against your touch but it was no use. “So fucking hard, Y/N. I’ve been hard since I saw you dancing tonight.” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he watched your fingers dance along the button of his pants.

“Well then, let me help you.” You purred, dipping your fingers into the hem of his pants and tugging them down. Your mouth watered at the outline of his cock through his boxers. His large dick making a big tent points up from the fabric. Grabbing the elastic waistband, you pulled his boxers over his veiny cock. Ghost let out a throaty moan as the cool air hit the tip of his cock making it twitch.

Swallowing the large pool of saliva in your mouth, moaning as your hand wrapped around his large thick heavy dick. “Oh fuck.” Ghost tossed his head back. “Please, please, fuck, Y/N.” Ghost’s voice was soft as he begged for whatever you had planned for him.

“Poor Ghost boy, so hard.” You leaned forward, placing soft kisses against the head of his pre-come oozing cock. Kissing down his long shaft your tongue darted out and gave his heavy sac some kitten licks. Placing your flat tongue at the bottom of his shaft you slowly licked upwards and engulfed the tip of his cock into your mouth, slowly swallowing him down.

“S- Shit! Y/N.” Ghost moaned, his hand grabbing your hair as he slowly rolled his hips into your mouth. “Good girl, fuck such a good girl.” Ghost moaned, his cock twitching in your mouth as you kept suckling him further down your throat.

The way his cock twitched deep in your throat had your cunt dripping, you could feel the juices slowly drip down your thigh. You moaned around his aching cock as your cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be full already.

Bobbing your head up and down fiercely on his cock, you moan once more around his cock sending vibrations down his shaft to his balls. The taste of him had you craving more and more each time you pushed yourself further. “Y/N- I’m- Fuck, I’m going to come.” Ghost choked out.

Swirling your tongue around his cock one last time you slowly pulled yourself away from his saliva covered dick. You moaned, licking your swollen red lips. “Oh you fucking brat.” Ghost snarled, his orgasm backing off. “I was going to shoot my fucking load down that tight throat.” Ghost grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap. “But I guess I’ll just fucking fill this pussy with my come.”

Straddling Ghost’s lap you gasped loudly as his two thick fingers plunged inside of your pussy. “G- Ghost!” You sobbed as you rolled your hips against his touch.

“Fuck, this sweet cunt is so creamy all over my fingers.” Ghost hummed, his fingers diving in and out of your sloppy pussy. “That’s it my sweet girl.” Ghost praised as he watched the pleasure wash over your face as you tried to ride his digits faster.

“Ghost, fuck yes. Please.” You begged, gripping onto his shoulders you kept slamming yourself down his thick fingers only to cry out loudly as he added another. “Christ!” You sobbed.

Ghost chuckled lowly at how you plead for him. He could feel that you were getting close to your orgasm as your cunt fluttered tightly around his fingers. As you were about to push yourself down on his digits his fingers left your soaking pussy. “Ghost!” You sobbed out as your buzzing body was slowly coming down from your high.

“Not so fun when it happens to you, huh?”

“Please, just fuck me.” You begged, your head resting upon his forehead. You looked into his dark eyes, panting. You could feel the tip of his leaking cock press against your entrance but not pushing inside. Your hands danced along the black mask, slowly pushing it upwards.

“Mask stays on, love.” Ghost grunted out, his accent oozed thickly.

Stopping your movements, the black fabric rested upon the tip of his nose, showing his plump lips and slightly stubble beard. Leaning forward, you crashed your lips against his, moaning at the sweet taste of whatever alcohol he drank earlier from tonight. You squealed against his mouth as his cock entered you. “Oh god, Ghost.” You gasped against his lips. The feeling of his large cock impaling your tight cunt had you shivering for more.

“Simon.” Ghost grunted which made you pull away and look at him. “Names Simon, call me Simon.” Simon’s lips twisted into a smirk, showing somewhat of his white perfect teeth.

“Simon.” You let out a breathy moan. “Oh, Simon.” You moaned louder as you started to rock your hips faster on his cock. “Right there, Simon. Right there.” You sobbed out as the tip of his cock grazed in an area you’ve never reached.

Your nails dug into his dark shirt as you held on tight to him, holding yourself close to him. The sound of his thick cock pushing into your wet cunt was a sinful yet wonderful noise, it had your stomach twisting tightly along with hearing Simon moan lowly each time you raise yourself to the tip of his cock and slam down.

“Fuck, little girl.” Ghost snarled, his large glove hands gripped your waist as he guided you down his fat cock. You could feel the ridges of his cock each time he entered you. “I’m going to fucking come in this little pussy and fill you with my seed.” Simon’s voice was deeper as he fucked himself up into you. “Going to watch you grow round with my child and watch you perform.” Simon hissed.

The thought of performing with Simon’s child growing inside of you had your cunt clenching around his cock. Simon chuckled deeply as he noticed the sudden tightness. “That what you want lovie? You want me to fuck you sideways and get you pregnant with my kid?” Simon’s thrusts became more sloppier as his twitching cock pushed further inside of you. “Fuck, watch your tits get big and round full of milk.”

You were lost for words as you leaned against Simon’s shoulder, moaning as you were now a fuck doll for Simon, your movements stopped as you became paralyze from pleasure. Your clit grinds against Simon’s lower abs from each thrust. “Come with me little girl, I can feel your sweet puss squeezing me.” Simon’s large hands grabbed the flesh of your ass, marking it.

Your vision blurred as Simon’s cock kept drilling against your g-spot. “Oh- Oh yes! Simon!” You sobbed loudly, slamming back down on his cock as he pushed himself inside of you, pausing his movements as his come erupted inside of you. You both cried out loud as his long ropes of come spit inside of your spazzing cunt. “S- Simon, oh fuck Simon.” You shivered at the feeling of his warm liquid flowing inside of you.

“Shh, good girl.” Simon cooed as he rubbed your back, you both staying there for a while. “Well, it might not be my handprint on your ass but it will be my come dripping out of your cunt.” Simon noted.

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sometimesijustfeellikescreaming · 1 month

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In your arms (I think I might survive)

Rated E - Word Count: 11.5k

Read on Ao3

SUMMARY:

5 times Bucky is compromised while sharing a bunk with one Gale Cleven

+ 1 time Gale climbs into Bucky’s bunk because he might also be damned by his feelings for the man

“Gale is a fire, and Bucky would be glad to burn for five eternities if being here in Buck’s arms for even another moment is the reward for the dangerous inferno of this man's embrace.”

— 1 —

The first time it happens is the first heavy snowfall of the year. It’s the second week in November and several of the other men — especially the ones who have been there longer, whose clothes fall off of them from the weight they’ve lost in their months in the camp —have already started sharing bunks weeks ago when the first of the chill settled in. Tonight is unbearably cold. John can see the way Gale is curled in on himself, an echo of his own position. Their bunks are so close Bucky could reach out and touch the blond, but instead, he hesitates for nearly an hour. Gale is in a fitful sleep, barely holding onto a thread of unconsciousness from the cold. Bucky wants to climb in beside him, steal the other man’s warmth, give him his own warmth.

Create warmth between them.

And therein lies the danger. Therein lies Bucky’s hesitation.

Because as much as he wants this to be an innocent act of helping to warm himself and his friend in the cold of winter, even the thought of pulling Gale flush against his body makes his heart race and his blood boil.

Oh, the things he’s imagined doing to his friend.

The things he would do if he knew Buck would let him.

The things he’s not sure he could stop himself from doing if he climbed into that bunk and slotted himself against the firm lines of the object of his hidden affections.

So instead of going to Gale's bunk instantly on the coldest night to date, Bucky stays in his own and suffers, shivering until his teeth start to clatter. But after an hour of agonizing with himself between the frigid air and the consequences of being so close to Gale, Bucky can’t take it anymore. He’s lost feeling in his right hand and half of his toes. Gale can’t be faring any better than he is if the way Bucky can see the other man’s shoulders shake from time to time is any indication. This is more than just a desire.

This is a need.

Bucky climbs out of his bunk and takes the single step to bridge the gap between his and Gale’s bunks. Bucky brings his blanket with him, but the cold jumps up to meet him, colder than any Wisconsin night he can remember. The distance is the shortest he has ever crossed in the night — it takes less than a breath, but his heart is racing — so many beats pass before Bucky launches his thread-bare blanket over Buck and places a hand down on the sorry excuse the Germans call a mattress. Then, as easily as falling into his own bed at night, as if this wasn’t something John has been agonizing about for the past hour, wanted to do for days, weeks — maybe since he met the other man — Bucky is wedging his body into the bunk beside Gale.

Buck is facing the wall, away from the room, and curled in on himself to preserve as much heat as possible. It’s the most effortless thing John has done in his life to wrap his arms around the man and press his chest along the length of his back. He molds their bodies to each other from chest to knee, needing the warmth as much as relishing in the touch.

“Damn, Buck, you’re freezing,” Bucky whispers, gruff and low, into Buck’s ear, his tone having absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s suddenly flooded with warmth at his abrupt closeness to Gale. He’s also lying, really, that Gale is freezing. As far as Bucky can tell the man he’s wrapped himself around is a human heater.

Buck instantly leans back into his touch, letting out a relieved breath, as if the cold he’s been holding in for the past several hours is released on that single exhale. Bucky feels ankles hitting his shins and he recognizes that Buck is uncurling from his fetal position as he relaxes into Bucky behind him.

Bucky lets out a breath in response and relaxes further into Gale in turn, the stress of the last hour’s debating easing from his shoulders in a moment. Bucky is drawn in instantly to the open skin of Buck’s neck. He can’t help himself in his cold-addled state as he presses his face into the exposed skin there. Despite the extreme cold, the skin is warmer than his own face and Bucky is instantly warmed.

Gale hisses audibly and tenses in Bucky’s grip. “Not as frozen as you are,” his voice comes low and husky in the dark, barely there in the stillness. Buck turns his head just enough to meet Bucky’s eyes in the darkness.

Bucky is distracted by the way his lips, still pressed into the soft skin of Gale’s neck, drag just slightly with the motion. He pulls back just far enough to meet Gale’s gaze even though every thought currently running through his mind is some variation of how he wants to press his lips to the exposed flesh of Buck's neck.

Soft kisses. Gentle kisses. Wet kisses. Biting kisses. Harsh kisses. Lingering kisses. Kisses that would leave marks for days. Little nips to tease as he makes a journey across to new skin to explore further. Kisses that would have Buck writhing and making all sorts of noises that Bucky would have to move to silence so nobody would know what they're doing in the night while they're cuddled together for warmth.

Gale’s eyes are searching when they meet his and Bucky wonders what he sees in Bucky’s eyes. Are his eyes glossed over in obvious desire the way he feels? Or does he have more control than he feels? Does the cold have more of an effect than he thinks to the point where all that shows through of the way being here, Buck finally in his arms, the press of his body sending golden rushes of electricity through his whole system is dulled to nothing more than his normal gaze? Or maybe It’s all there for Gale to see. But does he see it? Does he know? Is he oblivious? Does he know what it means when he sees that look in Bucky’s eyes aimed toward him?

Whatever Gale is searching for with his scrutinizing look that’s so magnetic it makes Bucky hold his breath, he seems to find it because the line in his forehead smooths at last. Something in his gaze lightens and he gets that glint in his eye he does sometimes when he talks to Bucky. It’s the one that drives Bucky wild, the one that encourages bad behavior and dares him to act recklessly, especially when he knows he shouldn’t but really wants to.

“What took you so long?” Gale grumbles, his smirk tugging wider at the edges. “Halfway to ice,” Gale murmurs as he turns his head back the other way again and — that’s an eye roll if Bucky has ever seen one from Buck Cleven. Bucky knows he must be grinning in response and shakes his head just so. He almost stops when it brings his lips into contact with Gale’s neck again because that’s exactly where he wants his lips to stay. He has to force himself away after a moment too long, settling his forehead and nose against Buck’s head instead, his lips a safe — but agonizing — distance from the man’s skin.

Before Bucky can properly process what is happening, the hand that is wrapped around Buck’s torso is suddenly divested of its glove, but instead of being met by the numbing sting of the open air of the cabin, feeling starts to reenter his fingers in a startling buzz of unexpected warmth and Bucky has to suppress a wonton groan of arousal because—

Gale has not only taken the glove off of Bucky’s hand, but he has taken said hand and guided it under all the layers of his own clothing to rest it against the white-hot skin of his lower stomach, and Bucky— Bucky cannot think anymore.

Bucky doesn’t trust his voice, and even if he did, Gale’s question seems like a distant dream. He makes a non-committal noise somewhere in the back of his throat, unable to do much more than that. “You seem to be doing okay.”

Gale is a fire, and Bucky would be glad to burn for five eternities if being here in Buck’s arms for even another moment is the reward for the dangerous inferno of this man's embrace.

“Better now,” and really Buck shouldn’t say things like that because Bucky is pressed right against the man and those words are doing things to him that he cannot explain if Gale notices. It takes every ounce of self-control not to allow himself to fall into the pleasure of being close to Gale, but he is not making it easy. He is, however, encouraged by those two words, so he presses in a little closer, slotting a knee between each of Gale’s so they’re wedged even tighter together in the small bunk. Gale makes the quietest sound of appreciation at the movement, even shifting with him to support the action, relaxing into it and helping the spooning along.

And God.

Bucky has heard a hundred women pant and moan and scream in bed before, but the sound Gale just made is the single most sensual sound he has ever heard in his life. He feels it in his gut, deep and aching and he’s not sure how he’s going to survive this night touching Gale but only touching.

“Give me your other hand,” he almost doesn’t hear the words because of how scattered his mind is. When he finally processes them, Bucky maneuvers so he can give Gale his other hand. It’s a little awkward with the way they’re arranged, but Gale makes it simple and somehow Bucky ends up cradling Gale against his chest with both arms around him, two bare hands against Gale’s naked stomach under his clothes, Bucky's hands warming against the blond’s smooth, toned skin as if everything they’re doing is perfectly normal.

And the thing is, Bucky feels normal. His nose is pressed into the soft hairs at the base of Gale’s neck and the warm skin there, lips a breath away from tender skin and he’s never felt more content in his life. The cold around him feels like a distant memory despite the fact he can still feel it along various parts of his body. Being with Gale, lying in the darkness, their breathing synched in a way he didn't even know was possible for two people — it feels like he's found something he's been looking for all along. Like he's found himself even as they're lost in the middle of Germany, in the middle of this war. For the first time in his life, it's like Bucky doesn't have to pretend about anything and it's all because of Gale Cleven.

Gale is in his arms, relaxed in the early stages of falling asleep, and Bucky is struck by a feeling, one that makes his chest tight like he can't breathe at the very idea in how much it terrifies him — that Gale is burrowed deep into his very soul. Sure, John Egan may climb out of this bed the next morning and Gale Cleven may no longer be in his arms, but the man he's holding will never leave his soul, and that is something John has never been more sure of than in this moment. It scares him more than anything else that he feels nothing but blissful contentment acknowledging the fact.

Bucky knows without a doubt that tonight will be the best night of sleep he’s had since he came to Europe.

— 2 —

After that first night, it's not that things change between Gale and Bucky in the daylight, but they do end up sharing Gale's bunk in an unspoken agreement from then on. It's just too damn cold to sleep alone anymore.

The nights pass more or less the same as the first one, some combination of Bucky climbing in after Gale and wrapping himself shamelessly around the man, clinging desperately, drunk on the skin beneath him like he hasn't been on liquor in too long now, but to a similar effect, nonetheless. If anyone told Bucky that he could honest to God get drunk on being close to a person, he would have laughed at them—

Yet here he is.

And the evidence is damning, he's drunk as many nights on Gale Cleven now as he used to be back on Base with a good whiskey in hand.

Bucky thought that maybe after a few days of sharing a bunk with Gale, he would get used to the weight of the man in his arms and that his desires would be easier to control over time since he would be used to having Gale there. Bucky was so, so very wrong. The more nights Bucky spends with Gale in his embrace the worse things get. Bucky has never been a patient man, and his impulse control is shoddy at the best of times when it comes to the simple pleasures of life.

That being said, Gale himself is certainly not helping the matter of Bucky’s tentative control. Every night, Gale seems to relax further into Bucky’s arms. Like when he pressed his own face into the warm flesh of Bucky’s neck the fourth night like Bucky had done the first night, allowing them to press together, chest to chest so that Bucky was lying nearly on top of the other man, every part of them touching in a way they never had before.

Bucky nearly lost himself that night; he nearly gave into every hidden desire that whispers in the back of his mind constantly when he’s around Gale but somehow he kept his hands from wandering too much, only slipping them under Gales shirt like the first night and warming them against his back and — admittedly — pressing the blond tighter against him.

In short, Bucky is losing his goddamn mind in the best possible way and it’s all Gale Cleven’s fault.

And it’s hardly been a week.

At this rate, winter looms long ahead of Bucky.

Bucky is already lying in his bunk tonight. Their whole cabin is tense with thoughts of the war. Gale spent hours with the radio receiver pressed to his ear, rattling back every piece of news as it came across the channels. Bucky is wound tight with it all, itching under his skin at his inability to do anything about their circumstances in the war camp. He knows that it bothers Gale just as much, but true to the nature of the quieter man, he keeps it all to himself, carrying everything alone.

As the hour draws later more of the men climb into their bunk. Lights out is called and with a heavy sigh of resignation, Bucky takes slow steps toward Gale’s bunk. He wonders if Gale will welcome him again tonight — If he still wants him here with how tense he must be after the day everyone has had and emotions running high. Would Gale want space tonight? Bucky casts his eyes back toward his own bunk which still lay empty mere feet away, ready to take him back should he need it. Then he thinks of the past week, especially the past few nights and the way the blond had unabashedly returned Bucky’s embrace the moment he’d crawled into the bunk. If Gale doesn’t want him there tonight, he’ll tell him.

With newfound resolve, Bucky pulls himself into the bunk. He’s gentle about the way he approaches Gale in the too-small bed. The other man is pressed nearly nose to the wall, facing away from the room and Bucky. It makes Bucky wonder if he’s even asleep, but he thinks he must be awake, deep in thought, by the way his shoulders are so tense and his breathing is too shallow to be restful. Bucky turns on his hip so he’s facing Gale, scant inches between them on the narrow mattress.

He reaches out a hand, resting it on the broad shoulder of the other man. It’s a test more than anything else. Is this okay? Are you okay? He wants to ask, but somehow, the question seems taboo, too close to saying something that shouldn’t be said. It feels revealing, even in the darkness of the quarters and the small space of the bunk they’ve been sharing night after night.

Bucky’s hand acts without his conscious mind, responding to the tense form of Gale’s shoulders, acting on instinct and from practice with nervous and anxious women in the past. It’s not on purpose, but it is Bucky’s desire to comfort Gale after the day they’ve all had, so he really shouldn’t be surprised by the way he trails his hand down from the shoulder down Gale’s arm, grip sure and present, testing for tension, searching for where he might be able to relieve physical stress with practiced hands.

Gale lets out a long, tired sigh, his shoulders drooping just so, head relaxing into the bed more. It makes something unclench in Bucky in response. This is fine. He and Gale are fine.

Emboldened by the unspoken permission to touch, Bucky releases his grip on the other man’s arm and moves it over to his back again. There’s not really enough space on the tiny bunk to do this, not at this angle. Bucky’s elbow is squished against his chest as he runs a firm hand down the tense line of Gale’s back, looking for points of tension. There are several. He stops at one near his left shoulder blade and digs his gloved hand through all the layers of clothing in the hopes of relieving the tension there. He’s not sure it’s making any difference, except then Gale lets out a breathy sound of satisfaction.

“Feels good,” he says after another moment of Bucky’s attention. “It’s been a pretty shit day.”

Bucky makes a noise of agreement and moves his hand to another point of tension along Gale’s back. After another moment, his hand stills as he contemplates their position. An idea comes to his mind, unbidden and like lightning of Gale beneath him on his stomach, Bucky sitting on top of him so he has full access to the other man to rub him down and bring out more of those breathy sounds. In his mind’s eye, there are no clothes and they are far away from here in a warm place, the war long forgotten and over, and Bucky is free to do much more than the kind of touching he is doing now. His pulse picks up in his chest and his breathing catches suddenly in his throat.

Gale shifts so he can look back at Bucky, his gaze questioning and filled with concern in the barely-there light of the quarters. Bucky has to say something, but he can barely form a coherent thought, lust flooding his system. This is a bad idea. Yet, he wants to help Buck… a change in position is technically the best option. It doesn’t have to mean anything. And Bucky can control his desires. He can control his thoughts. This doesn’t have to be dangerous.

Bucky licks his too-dry lips before speaking, looking Gale in the eyes. “Let me help you, we’re too close like this.” Bucky presses both his hands against Gale to emphasize his point, scant inches separating them.

Gale only gives him a dubious look as if to say what the hell are we supposed to do? There’s nowhere to go, dumbass.

Bucky gives him a shit-eating grin in response, pleased that Gale is going along with another one of his impulsive ideas. He starts to move as if to get off the bunk entirely, propping himself up on one knee, then leans back down so his face is near Gale’s in the quiet of the room. “Lay on your stomach and I’ll go over you, be able to reach better that way.” Bucky can feel his pulse thudding in his ears. He’s terrified this is the end. Gale will say no, or simply shove him off the bunk, as precariously propped in the frame as he is now. He’ll be disgusted by the thought of Bucky above him in such a way — repulsed — and never want to speak to him again.

Nothing like that happens.

Gale simply shuffles over, positioning himself face-down, his face pillowed on his arms. He takes up the middle space of the bed, which isn't saying much since his broad shoulders barely fit across the width of the bunk on his own, let alone with two people trying to fit into the space. Bucky closes his eyes briefly and lets out a shaky breath of relief and anticipation.

Once Gale has settled, Bucky arranges himself above him, bringing his hovering knee down on the mattress to straddle Buck’s thighs. The cold is jarring like this, must be for Gale too since they’ve moved the blankets aside for the whole thing. The chill helps clear Bucky’s mind of his racing thoughts.

In the quiet that fills his mind, all he can hear is his own breath and the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. He leans down over Buck and places both his hands on his back just inside the lines of his shoulder blades, pressing in with his thumbs all along either side of his spine - the palms and fingers of his hands ghosting along his back in tandem with the action.

Gale relaxes into the mattress with a deep exhale and Bucky smiles, can feel the way his eyes crinkle at Gale's obvious pleasure. Bucky fists his knuckles and presses them into Gales's back with points of pressure as he meanders up his back again, finding knots of tension near his shoulders.

“You’re so tight, Buck,” He murmurs into Gale’s ear, leaning down so his lips are close enough to feel the heat coming off the skin of Gale’s neck.

Gale lets out the quietest moan as Bucky lets back up, releasing the tension from one of the knots in Gale’s back. The man is putty below him and Bucky can feel a rush in his head at the sounds Gale is making.

“Gotta be quiet, Buck,” Bucky chastises him, once again close to his ear, now on the other side, applying pressure to another knot he’s found in Gale’s back. “Take a deep breath,” Bucky instructs quietly. Gale complies immediately, chest expanding under Bucky’s hands and his obedience is intoxicating in a way Bucky has never experienced before. It makes his blood boil and run south dangerously. Bucky takes a stabilizing breath, willing himself to stay calm and focused only on the task at hand. “Breathe out.” On Gale’s exhale, Bucky presses harder into the knot in his back and Gale lets out another barely audible moan and Bucky has to close his eyes to keep himself sane against the sound. He’s touched himself to memories of women and the sounds they make in bed in the past, but the sounds Gale is making right now are downright sinful. Bucky lets up the pressure after a moment and like that the knot releases in Gale’s back.

“Just like that,” Bucky says, though he’s not sure that his voice doesn’t sound wrecked. He certainly feels like he may be drooling with arousal.

“Damn magic hands,” Gale says in a voice that would sound drunk if Bucky didn’t know any better. The words send an electric feeling through him straight to his gut and he has to hold back a moan and curb his desire to flip the man over and lean into him in earnest to show him just how magic his hands can be.

Instead, he leans in close again, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips and he demurs in Buck’s ear, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told that.”

Gale huffs out a laugh. “You son of a bitch.”

Bucky runs his hands up and down Gale’s back a few more times, searching for any more points of tension, but he’s too riled up to do much more, so he ends up mostly rubbing soothingly for a few minutes, Buck humming occasionally in satisfaction, much to Bucky’s tormented delight.

Finally, he pats the other man’s shoulder when Bucky’s sure he’s gotten ahold of his arousal enough to lay down beside Gale and sleep without causing a scene.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that. Scoot over— I’m cold.”

“Your own fault,” Gale gripes back but turns onto his side to make room for Bucky to press in beside him. Bucky loops an arm around the blond and curls around him like he’s grown far too comfortable doing the past week. They pull the blankets over the two of them and fall into a content silence. Gale lets out a deep breath then and leans back against Bucky and he has the thought that as far away as he is from everything he’s ever known, he’s never felt more at home than in this moment.

— 3 —

The nights continue to get colder in Germany and it seems like everyone is sharing bunks now. An odd man out in winter is a frozen man, after all. Night after night, Bucky continues to climb into Gale’s bunk. Sometimes he even climbs in before the blond does and it’s Buck who comes to greet Bucky in his own bed. However it starts, they always end up wrapped together for the sake of warmth, doing anything they can to conserve heat as the nights become more and more unbearable.

Tonight, snow is falling outside the windows and it’s taking more time than usual for Gale to get comfortable against Bucky. Most of the time they lay so that Gale has his back to Bucky, sometimes it’s the other way around, and on rare occasions, Gale likes to burrow into Bucky’s neck, the two of them facing each other. Tonight Bucky climbs in after Gale so that he is pressed against Gale’s back like they so often are, but Gale is restless, maybe too cold, maybe just on edge for whatever reason. Gale turns his head and catches Bucky’s eye. Bucky squeezes Gale reassuringly at his waist where he has an arm slung around him then releases the grip, pulling back and moving his body away in question.

“What is it?” Bucky asks quietly.

Gale starts to shift, turning his body to face Bucky. “Turn over.” Once Gale has shifted enough to face him, he places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to indicate he should turn over too, and Bucky's smile crinkles his eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” As much as Bucky likes to be the big spoon, there’s something about being held by Gale that Bucky really doesn’t mind.

Even when they settle down, though, Gale’s breathing still doesn’t even out and deepen in the restful patterns of sleep. He continues to shift every few minutes as if there’s something on his mind. The arm wrapped around Bucky’s torso tenses and relaxes at seemingly random intervals.

Bucky has no idea what’s bothering Gale tonight, but it’s obvious the man is nowhere close to sleep. He huffs out a breath and shifts back around to try something else.

“Relax, Buck. You’re thinkin’ too much,” Bucky huffs into the quiet as he finishes shifting to face Gale. He pulls him close, trying to arrange them so Buck can calm down enough to sleep.

Their fumbling for a comfortable position this way takes another moment and when Bucky shifts his head, Gale is right there — so much closer than Bucky meant, and his nose traces along his face accidentally, bumps against the bridge of the other man’s slender nose. Bucky’s eyes are nearly crossed looking into Gale’s, their breathing intermingled. Bucky has never wanted to lean in and kiss anyone more in his entire life.

But this— he doesn’t want to ruin everything with Gale. Neither of them are drunk. Anything he does now could ruin everything he’s ever had with Gale forever. He has to tread carefully, but he desperately can’t think for the way that he wants this and he wants it so badly.

The thought comes to him then.

His eyes are torn from Gale’s lips where they were caught and up to his eyes in an instant.

“Buck—“ Gale’s eyes are drawn to his immediately at the quiet urgency in Bucky’s voice— where they’d been focused before, Bucky is too distracted to consider. “I want to try something, but you just have to—“ Bucky licks his lips, nerves getting the better of him suddenly. He glances away and then back again, pushing through with renewed determination. “Just imagine I’m Marge, okay?”

Gale’s eyebrows draw together in the slightest show of confusion, but before he can say anything, Bucky leans the rest of the way forward and presses his lips to Gale’s, just a touch. He holds there for a few heartbeats waiting for the inevitable rejection, for Gale to push him away in horror and say he never wants to see him again. When he pulls back, Gale’s eyes flutter open and his lips part as he takes in a shuddering breath.

There’s a sinking feeling in Bucky’s gut and he goes to draw away, thinking that all is lost. There’s a hand at the back of his neck stopping his retreat when he tries, though.

“Little tame for Marge,” Buck’s eyes are bright with mirth and something distinctly else and before Bucky can properly process anything, Gale’s mouth is on his in a filthy kiss. It’s all lips and teeth, Gale sucking Bucky’s bottom lip into his mouth only to tug on it mercilessly with his teeth. The sensation has Bucky gasping against his mouth and Gale slips his tongue in as if that was his plan all along, tasting and teasing against Bucky’s and—

This is more than kissing, this is devouring. It’s needy and sensual. Gale is kissing him like a man who’s been waiting for this kiss his whole life and like tomorrow will be too late. Bucky has no idea what to do with it except kiss back in kind. He’s kissed women with this sort of fervor before, with this sort of manic energy, but it never felt this way. It never meant anything when he did it with them. He’s never kissed anyone who’s meant anything to him until now. It’s thrilling —terrifying —electrifying. All too soon he has to pull back to breathe.

He and Gale are both panting quietly when they pull apart and though he’s short of breath, Bucky can’t help that he can’t quite pull away as they separate, stealing a few more short kisses from Gale’s lips before he fully comes away to catch his breath. Gale leans his forehead against Bucky’s, his eyes closed as his breathing starts to even out.

There’s a tense moment where the silence starts to overwhelm Bucky and he thinks, even after all of that, Gale will reject him and call him crazy, but then he opens his eyes and smiles one of the most sincere smiles Bucky has ever seen, crinkles in the corners and all and tugs him closer into a more relaxed position like they would if they were cozying up to sleep, though their faces are still much too close for that.

Gale’s smile shifts into an intensely serious face as he gazes directly into Bucky’s eyes. “I think that was our best kiss, Marge,” he grumbles, deep, low, and sensual, kissing at Bucky’s jaw before dragging his lips up to Bucky’s again for a few short kisses. Bucky responds in a daze, unsure what exactly is happening. He said Marge, and, yes, Bucky told him to, but the way he stared into Bucky’s eyes tells him a different story. Bucky has learned to read Gale Cleven over the time they’ve known each other and if that man hadn’t said Marge’s name just now, he would have no doubts that every kiss against his lips in this moment is absolutely for him. Even so, the kisses feel like promises, they feel like they’re for him. The words Gale said feel like a message saying that their kisses are better than Gale’s kisses with Marge, and that’s a dangerous thought.

Bucky doesn’t know what to think, but really it’s hard to think with Gale’s lips against his anyway, so he lets it rest for the time being and just lets himself exist in this moment. He would rather have Gale like this in the illusion of love in the name of the woman he’s writing home to than not at all anyway. If this is all it can be, then Bucky can live with that. He may be haunted by the touch of Gale Cleven for the rest of his life, but when he finally does lay to rest in the day he dies, he’ll die knowing he’s tasted the lips of Gale Cleven and that’s all he can ask for at this point. He’ll die a happy man.

Tonight Bucky falls asleep wrapped in Gale’s arms with a smile on his face.

— 4 —

The weeks of December pass sluggishly. What should be a time of cheer and celebration is dulled by the fact that they’re prisoners in the war camp. The mere mention of the holidays becomes a taboo of sorts, effectually bringing a gloom to any room instead of its usual cheer. Many of the men also fall sick despite their best efforts to stay warm and healthy. The conditions of the camp are not good.

In the long days, Bucky notices Gale watching him more. It’s not that Gale never watched him before. They were always friends, and they always kept an eye out for each other. It wasn’t even necessarily that he had his eyes on Bucky more moments of the day. It’s just that when he catches Gale watching him now, sometimes there is a look in his eyes that he can’t quite read. Doesn’t always know what he means anymore. He used to think he knew all of Gales's looks, but now he’s not so sure he does.

At night, when Bucky climbs into the bunk with Gale, it’s all Bucky can do not to act like a starved man and desperately kiss Gale again the way they did before. Instead, he settles for allowing his hands to wander more, to blur the lines of what should be appropriate under the guise of getting comfortable. Some nights he presses his face against Gale’s neck for a moment too long, his lips resting against open skin in what might be considered a kiss if they were anyone else. He’ll mumble words there, his lips brushing the skin in the most addictive way. Gale will shudder under him but say nothing about it. They dance around it for a few nights.

Then Gale seems to cotton on to what Bucky is doing, that he is holding back. Seems to understand that he wants to kiss Gale but won’t.

They’re lying together, Bucky pressed against Gale’s back, Bucky mumbling something into Gale’s neck about a transmission they overheard that day when Gale cuts him off apropos of nothing.

“Like it when you do that,” Gale says, voice husky and affected, arching his neck in a way that makes it unmistakable what he’s referring to. “Damn tease, though.”

Bucky freezes, whatever words had been on his lips stopping immediately. He feels his heart stutter in his chest. This is new territory and feels dangerous. Gale is encouraging him, and it feels exciting, nonetheless.

“Maybe I like teasing you,” Bucky ventures against the skin of Gale’s neck just like before, finally daring to place a real kiss against the skin there before letting his lips drag the distance to Gale’s ear, letting them part just enough that his teeth skim the skin enough to make Gale shudder beneath him. When he reaches his destination, he nips at the delicate flesh of Gale’s earlobe, tugging it intentionally before releasing. “Don’t you get it? I like getting a reaction out of you.”

Gale’s already turning in the bunk to face him, words ready on his lips.

“Don’t count on it.” There’s a flicker of fire in Gale’s eyes that invites Bucky in, that says do your worst, Bucky Egan— do whatever you want.

Bucky takes that as a challenge and that’s when things start to shift between them in earnest.

Bucky reaches out to run his fingers through the man’s hair, stopping to tug at the strands. He trails sucking, wet kisses from Gale’s ear down to his jaw and then finally brings their lips together again for the first time in days, with no hesitation this time. The kiss is passionate and both of them are absorbed in an obvious battle of wills as they move against one another. This is both nothing like the kiss they shared the other night and glaringly similar. It holds all the same tenants of passion and adoration that Bucky had noticed before — but this kiss, it’s filled with future and longing. It’s the kiss of two people beginning something. Discovery, excitement, wonder.

Bucky doesn’t want it to end.

And, honestly? It doesn’t for a long while. Gale’s hands wander across Bucky’s body—his back, his hips, his hair, his face— exploring while they kiss for a long time. The actions mirror Bucky’s own interested touching. They eventually stop only when their kisses grow slow and it’s obvious the night has grown late enough for them to get sleepy. Gale’s eyes droop as he tries to hold Bucky’s gaze.

“Hi,” Bucky says, a dopy grin on his face.

Gale brushes his thumb across Bucky’s bottom lip in response and stares meaningfully into Bucky’s eyes. Gale’s rough fingertips make their way into Bucky’s hair, dragging their way along his scalp soothingly and pulling him close again to connect their lips in a slow, lazy kiss. It feels like time stops and the moment goes on for years and an eternity yet only a second at the same time.

When Buck pulls back, he moves to kiss Bucky’s cheek then down to his jaw and the hollow of his neck, and finally rests his head against Bucky’s chest like that’s that. Like it’s all that simple. Like they didn’t just make out for the past hour with no pretext. Just like last time, he doesn’t know if it means anything.

Bucky rubs soothing circles into Gale’s back until they both fall asleep and tries not to think about it.

The thing is, as the nights continue in the slow of December, it keeps happening. Bucky will be doing or saying something, Gale will make a comment and suddenly they’ll be kissing and touching. Bucky’s not sure how his daytime life is such a nightmare in the war camp when every night he lays down beside the man of his dreams. He tries not to think about the fact that Gale has Marge waiting for him after the war, especially when mail comes and there are letters for Buck and not for himself.

The reality is Bucky is here now and at night Gale is in his arms. It’s Bucky’s lips against Gale’s not Marge’s despite what game Bucky might have started this all with. He thinks on that sometimes — thinks about how Gale probably just imagines he’s Marge every time they kiss. He hopes it’s not true, but he wouldn’t blame Gale if it was.

It’s hard to believe Gale is thinking of anyone but Bucky when he kisses him the way he does, though. It’s Christmas Eve when Bucky really starts to wonder if Gale thinks about Marge when they kiss. It’s Christmas Eve when Bucky notices Gale may be interested in their kissing a little more than Bucky realized.

He’s not sure why it took so long. If they both have the self-control of Saints or Bucky just hasn’t been paying enough attention, but Gale pulls back from their heated kiss, eyes closed as he leans his forehead against Bucky’s. He shifts his hips in what could be discomfort when Bucky feels something brush against him and —

Oh.

Feeling Gale’s erection against him sends a flash of heat through Bucky and suddenly, he’s not thinking clearly. He takes a centering breath through the haze.

“You good?”

“Just tired.” Gale’s voice is strained

It’s a lie, Bucky knows what’s going on here, but he lets it go. If Gale doesn’t want to keep going he’ll respect that.

“Okay. You wanna go to sleep now?” He asks it sincerely, but Bucky can’t help that he has a hand on Gale’s hip and it acts on its own, squeezing comfortingly, encouragingly, daringly. Gale’s eyes open, meeting his instantly. They’re hooded with lust and Bucky has to swallow and force himself not to look away. He licks his lips unconsciously. If Gale wants to stop, he’s looking at Bucky the wrong way. He would spend a thousand lifetimes at this camp if it meant being on the receiving end of that look from Gale Cleven every night.

He’s thinking about all the things he’s willing to do to Gale. All the things he would offer— would beg to do if only Gale would let him. He wonders if Gale would let him. The air between them is charged, and Gale seems to be trying to find the words to say. Maybe he does want this. Maybe he’s grappling with finding the way to ask considering the fact that Bucky isn’t Marge. Bucky should give him an out, help him. But a part of him bristles at the thought. Why should he have to make excuses for Gale and his hangups with a woman back home?

Bucky huffs and turns his face away, his eyes going hard suddenly. “You know what, you’re right. I’m getting tired too. We should just sleep.” Gale doesn’t say anything as Bucky shifts in the tiny bunk to turn his back to his body, just wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist, presses his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck, and breathes him in deeply. It feels like an apology when Gale’s fingers soothe circles into his stomach through the layers of fabric there. The last of the tension leaves Bucky with a deep exhale, his sudden spike of jealousy for Marge slipping away when Gale places soft kisses at the base of his neck before resting his forehead there. His breathing relaxes in that familiar pattern of sleep Bucky has grown to rely on more the past month more than he’d like to admit.

In the morning, Christmas dawns as a mix of emotions for all the prisoners in the camp. They want it to be a day they can celebrate, but the whole experience is sullied and muddied by the fact that they are prisoners. Even the most religious among them is struggling with faith and is broken and beaten down by the war. Far from home and family, stuck in an impossible, hopeless situation with only those also stuck in an equally impossible situation by their side, it’s hard to have any sort of Christmas spirit in the war camp.

Some of the prisoners are ignoring the holiday altogether, better to pretend it’s just another day than be disappointed by all that they are missing and be torn apart by the aching loss of all that could be in that moment. For others, the loss is felt so deeply it results in a heavy moping around the barracks all day. In others, it’s an edge in their eyes— anger at the Nazis for taking everything from them, and aggression tightens the lines of their bodies.

Even those who don’t celebrate the holiday find themselves affected by the tensions running high.

Bucky’s never been particularly religious, but the itch in his skin is turned up to eleven by the time night falls. He hates the way this camp and this war have stolen everything from the lives of everyone around him. It’s the reason he joined before the States became involved in the war, to begin with. He couldn’t stand the fact that so many were suffering everywhere. Bucky is nothing if not a man of action for what is right. It’s one of the biggest reasons he hates being stuck in the prisoner of war camp too. He can’t do anything for anyone from in here. He’s useless.

Today reminds him of that more than anything and he wishes there was something he could do to change it all.

When he climbs into the bunk with Gale tonight, they’re both morose. For a long while they just lay there quietly facing one another, neither one saying anything, neither one moving to hold the other despite the cold.

“You ever think about what it would’ve been like if we never went down? If we never came here?”

“I try not to dwell on it. Find the parts that aren’t so bad.”

Bucky scoffs at that. “You would look for the silver lining, wouldn’t you? Why are you so goddamn perfect all the goddamn time, Gale Cleven? You never think about it at all? We could’ve hit twenty-five missions by now! Doesn’t it ever make you think of all the possibilities? Instead, we’re here. Just— wasting away.” Bucky’s hands are clenched between them, his eyes downcast to hide the wetness shining in them. John Egan does not cry. If his voice is wavering, it has nothing to do with it, either.

“We’ll make it out, Bucky.” There’s so much conviction in Gale’s voice that Bucky has to look up, but he still can’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me.” He can’t. He tries, a breath shudders through him, but he can’t look Gale in the eyes, not when Gale’s so sure and right now Bucky’s so weak. He should be more sure too. “Look at me, John.”

His eyes snap up to Gale’s then and warm fingers tangle his own hands between them.

“We’ll make it out of here— and every day until then it’s you and me against everyone who stands in the way.” Bucky cracks a smile at that, a low chuckle leaving his lips, and if a tear tracks down his cheeks, well the only person that would ever know is Gale Cleven and he would never tell another soul.

It’s Gale’s birthday two days after Christmas and with the way things have been in the camp the last few days, and between the two of them especially, Bucky just wants to do something for the other man. Their somber conversation from Christmas night lays heavy between them throughout the next day. Even the slightly lighter mood of Gale’s birthday is tinged by the knowledge that it’s a day marked and marred by this place.

Buck hides it well just like he does every other day, but Bucky can see that he is affected today more than other days being stuck here. It’s in the way he throws himself more intently into listening to transmissions and talking about strategies and anything related to the war. He even spends some of his time that day in the camp library reading who knows what for several hours.

It all reads like avoidance to Bucky, not that he’s paying attention. He tries to be a steady presence for Buck, but he’s shit at being steady even for himself in life if he’s being honest, so he’s not sure it works out. He does drag Gale away from the library before he can hole up there all day, though, and bring him back to the barracks for some good-natured bonding in the evening. They may not have anything to get drunk on, but they all pass around birthday stories and their best tales from home, and for a few hours it feels a little less like a prisoner of war camp and just a little more like being back on base.

When they call lights out and Gale and Bucky crawl into their bunk, Bucky feels lighter than he has in a long time. He pulls Gale into his arms right away as they settle into the tiny bunk, Buck is facing him and that gives him plenty of access to his neck and jaw. Gale has a slow smile on his lips as Bucky noses along the sensitive flesh there.

“Somebody’s in a good mood today,” Gale rumbles quietly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Hey, my best friend is catching up to my age, what’s not to celebrate.” Bucky quips back. Gale gives him an exasperated look.

“We both know that’s not how birthdays work.”

“It is until I have mine again,” Bucky argues. Gale seems to take that as enough of an answer and inclines his head just so, encouraging the exploration Bucky is making of the skin there.

Bucky’s been thinking of a present for Gale, but now that it’s the moment for it, he’s suddenly wary of what Gale’s reaction might be. His reactions to Bucky’s attentions so far are a good sign, though, so Bucky travels one of his hands across Gale’s chest in a casual exploration. It’s not something he’s let himself do much of in the past, maybe occasionally while they’re kissing heavily, but not while they’re doing something more casual like this.

“Hey, Buck?” Bucky’s voice is rough when he speaks, and he can’t bring himself to meet the other man’s eyes quite yet. He rests his hand on the material only a few inches above the waist of Gale’s pants.

“Yeah?” Gale doesn’t sound much better than Bucky, voice gravelly.

“I was thinking, there’s not much I can get you for your birthday this year,” Bucky licks his lips and finally meets Gale’s eyes, sure his own are blown wide with arousal. “But, uh, there’s something I was hoping you’d let me do for you.” Bucky watches Gale’s eyes for any sign he should stop as he slides his hand lower. He’s surprised to find Gale already half-hard in his pants when his hand comes to rest there.

“Let me help you feel good.”

Gale takes in a deep breath, his eyes dark with lust and Bucky knows he’s made the right choice this time. He always knew there was something animal in Buck if he could only draw it out of the other man. He feels a slow smile start to tug across his face. Gale doesn’t say anything, but keeps his gaze locked with Bucky’s as he brings his hand down over Bucky’s own in encouragement— and if that isn’t one of the hottest things Bucky has ever experienced.

“Don’t stop,” Gale says in that husky voice and Bucky kicks into gear, smile widening.

With the green light, Bucky moves to unbutton Gale’s pants. It makes his heart race. He’s only been with a man one other time before and it was a very drunken encounter. He wonders how it will be now, touching Gale.

He wants to watch the other man fall apart in pleasure— always so controlled and put together, it’s one of the things Bucky always finds himself fantasizing about Gale. He’s nearly high on the thought of being allowed to touch him in a way that will bring those dreams to reality.

Bucky watches Gale’s face closely as he peels his gloves off and finally takes the blond in hand.

Gale swallows heavily and his eyes flicker closed.

Watching Gale as he touches is its own experience. Fast then slow, harder, dragging out his pleasure and making it as good as he can. Kisses along his neck, words of encouragement and praise. Bucky does it all for Gale and watches in rapture as Gale falls apart in his arms.

It’s everything Bucky could have hoped for tonight and the lazy kisses afterward mean almost as much to him because it still feels normal, like even with this new layer things between them haven’t changed too much and Bucky is grateful for that.

— 5 —

They don’t talk about it after it happens. They continue to share the bunk as the nights continue to be cold enough to freeze a man to death alone. There’s a new energy in the air between them now, something in the way Gale’s eyes follow Bucky around even in the daylight. When Bucky crawls into the bunk at night, Gale’s hands find his body with more ease, seeking him out rather than waiting for Bucky to press in first.

There’s a simplicity to the way they lay together, to the way Gale is sometimes the one to hook his leg easily over Bucky’s hips and pull him in closer now. It’s like any of the reservations that he used to have crumbled and Bucky is left reeling at the implications. They don’t talk about it, it’s not something to risk even in the dead of night on the most silent of whispers — despite what they’ve done in the dead of night hidden only by the thin cloak of darkness, their bodies sometimes threatening to give them away by their heavy breathing in the stillness of the night.

And if those sorts of activities don’t stop either, if Gale’s newfound comfortability in initiating cuddling and spooning at night has led to Bucky being more comfortable grazing his lips against any skin of Gale’s he can find whenever he feels like it while they’re pressed tight against each other, then it’s not really a surprise, is it?

He catches more of those rare Cleven smiles when he presses casual kisses to the underside of the man’s jaw, nips at his earlobe, and if his lips wander to the other man's more nights than not, who’s to blame Bucky? Gale doesn’t complain. As the weeks wear on Bucky learns the contour of his lips and the taste of his tongue better than anyone else he’s ever known. Their shared breaths warm him more than the layers of jackets or the thread-bare blankets ever could on those late winter nights.

More often now, Gale’s lips have begun to wander across Bucky’s own skin. It’s a sinful feeling that has Bucky hard against Gale, and he’s sure Gale must notice. He’d have to have with the way Bucky’s pressed against Gale’s leg. Gale bites a sensitive section of skin on Bucky’s neck and it sends a spike of pleasure down to his growing erection. He lets out a hiss and can’t help but tilt his hips against Gale’s leg, seeking friction— anything.

Gale lets out an exhale of a laugh against Bucky’s skin, his eyes glancing up to meet Bucky’s, a glint of something wicked in them. It’s not a look Bucky is familiar with seeing in Gale’s eyes. There’s a sudden pressure right where Bucky needs it and —

Fuck—

Oh fuck—

That’s Gale’s hand. Over the layers and with a glove, but he’s moved it down between them to lay it over the line of Bucky’s straining cock. Bucky’s head is swimming in the sensation. There’s nothing coherent in his mind, his mouth has fallen open in pure shock, his pupils are blown wide with heady arousal. Yes, he’s touched Gale this way now, but he never really believed that Gale would ever want to touch him like that back — let alone that it would ever happen.

“Let me help you feel good,” his voice is vulnerable, sensual, and all the things Bucky never suspected, nearly a whisper in his ear, followed by a gentle tug on his earlobe with his teeth and —God— that feels good too. Bucky is absolutely speechless for the space of several heartbeats. He has to swallow past the lump of arousal in his throat before he can speak. He wants to scream yes, but something holds him back— is Buck only doing this because of what Bucky has done for him these past weeks? Does he feel pressured somehow? It was all one thing with the snuggling and kissing, even when Bucky helped get him off, Gale could imagine someone else, could think of Marge. It was just a kiss, just a body, a hand on him, after all. This, though — Bucky is not a woman. If Gale does this, he won’t be pretending he’s with someone else anymore. He can’t. He has to know that. Has to know what he is doing.

“Buck— you don’t have to, Marge—“

“Bucky—“ Gale tries to cut him off, his voice insistent, but Bucky isn’t having any of it.

“No, really Gale, you don’t have to if you don’t want to—“ lips meet his suddenly, cutting him off. Rough fingertips drag through his hair and down the side of his face, stopping at the corner of his lips. Gale pulls back and this time his eyes are filled with resolve and sincerity.

“John— you’re an idiot,” is all Gale says before his lips are on his again, slow and sure this time, reassuring and calming. The hand on his face is gone then, moving down his body, a trail of fire even through the layers of clothing necessary in the cold winter night. Gale presses his thigh against Bucky’s hardness, reminding him why he’s an idiot in the first place.

Then Gale’s hand is back to where it was before Bucky panicked and Bucky gasps when Gale squeezes him through the fabric with his ungloved hand. It’s been so long since he’s been touched by another person, and for that person to be Gale— it’s almost more than he can take.

Gale takes advantage of his gasp to deepen their kiss, licking into his mouth easily, a dance they’ve done so many times now. Gale uses the kissing to keep Bucky quiet as he runs his hand along the length of his cock through the too-many layers of fabric that separate their skin.

Gale’s hands make quick work of Bucky’s buttons and before he’s able to really fully process that this is really happening — that Gale Cleven is actually willingly—

Oh—

Gale’s hand is surprisingly warm for the night being as cold as it is. Buck lets out a low groan when touches Bucky at last, flesh on flesh. Bucky rocks his hips involuntarily, stifling his own sounds of pleasure as best he can. That sets them both into motion.

It’s frantic after that. Bucky forgets himself in the sensation of Gale’s warm fingers wrapped around him. It’s rushed and clumsy and dry but Gale’s more confident than Bucky expects in the way he pumps Bucky quick and sure, stroking his cock deliberately. Bucky wonders how many times he’s done this to himself. If he’s using that as a blueprint for the way he’s pulling the pleasure from Bucky’s body now. The image of Buck alone and touching himself sparks his arousal further and more heat floods his body. Bucky can feel how close he is now.

He’s not sure how much longer he’ll last, especially with how long it’s been since he’s been touched. Gale’s lips trail down his jaw as he drags his thumb over the tip of Bucky’s cock and it’s all Bucky can do not to come right then. He lets out a strangled breath, aware of the fact that they are very much not alone in the room.

For some reason, that thought sends a shiver of electricity up Bucky’s spine. He’s nearly incoherent with pleasure at this point, chasing his pleasure from Gale’s touch, but knowing they have to keep quiet and stay hidden is a heady thought that lights him up.

“C’mon, Gale. I’m almost there.”

Gale’s hand pauses.

Bucky’s head snaps to look at Gale desperately to see why he stopped. Did he do something wrong?

Gale has a wicked smirk on his face. “Don’t forget your manners, Major,” Gale whispers in the most rugged voice Bucky has ever heard from Gale’s lips in his life, and Bucky’s brain absolutely short circuits. He almost comes just from the way Gale calls him Major in that voice with his hand still on his cock, but somehow he keeps his composure.

Then, Gale squeezes him lightly in his grasp as if to remind him of his manners—

God this man is going to be the death of him. Bucky clears his throat past his arousal and manages a weak, “Please, Major.” And God now he’s begging, too.

Gale’s eyes darken in lust, and his hand immediately resumes its ministrations, more insistently than before. Gale’s lips find his in a harsh kiss as well, like any part of them that isn’t touching will waste away. And then it’s all too much and Bucky can’t hold back anymore—he comes in a blaze of heat, his moan caught in the kiss on Gale’s mouth.

Gale kisses down his neck as Bucky rides out his pleasure.

Bucky knows they should clean up their mess, but Gale just zips him back up, pulls him close, and holds him in his post-orgasmic haze. They drift off to sleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms and content.

Happy. Safe. Home.

Three things that have nothing to do with where Bucky is and everything to do with who Bucky is with.

— +1 —

It’s February but Bucky’s not really paying attention to the date until mail comes in. Gale and several of the other men get letters and somehow, miraculously, by some divine intervention of God (but more likely they just held back the mail until today for some kind and cruel reason) it’s Valentine’s Day and several men are getting letters from their sweethearts.

Bucky is jealous.

He tries not to be, he really does, but he is. He’s self-aware enough to admit to the fact at this point.

He blames the jealousy for the way that he tugs his blanket that has long been shared between himself and Gale off of the bunk he’s started to think of as theirs a few hours before lights out is called while Gale is stepped out and distracted. He climbs into his own bunk a few feet away. It’s sat cold and lonely for months now, and Bucky knows he’ll be cold and lonely laying in it tonight, but he’s mad. He doesn’t want to lay beside Gale tonight. Not when he still has Marge. Not when everything they’re doing means nothing to Gale.

Bucky fights against the empty feeling in his chest — the way his breathing feels too thin and his body feels far away from himself. He’s fine.

He lays on his back staring at the bunk above him, though he doesn’t see anything.

He’s distantly aware of movement in the room around him — of voices as time passes. It all washes over him.

Finally, the lights turn off and Bucky knows he should be feeling the cold right now— alone as he is— but he just feels numb. He’s purposefully not thinking about anything and he thinks that should help him fall asleep, but it doesn’t.

Instead, he’s more awake than he’s been in months.

Like a ghost, Gale appears at the foot of his bunk, hitting his booted feet to get his attention. It jolts Bucky’s awareness back into himself if only slightly.

“Benny says you’ve been moping all evening.”

“Yeah? Benny’s an asshole.” Gale gives him an unimpressed look.

“There a reason you’re over here trying to freeze to death?”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Everyone in here is sharing a bunk, John. It’s winter.”

“And what about after winter?”

There’s a beat of silence

“Is that what this is about?”

“You got another letter from Marge today.”

Gale climbs into the bunk. Bucky tries to back away, toward the far side, away so they’re not touching, but Gale doesn’t let him. He drags him back to the middle and pins him down, straddling his hips and pinning every inch of himself down with every part of himself. He grabs Bucky’s wrists and holds them down on either side of his head.

Gale brings his face close enough that Bucky has no choice but to stare into Gale’s piercing gaze.

“John Egan, you listen to me right now.” His words are biting and low— they demand to be heard. But he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, his eyes soften as he keeps staring into Bucky’s eyes. The fingers wrapped tight around Bucky’s wrists loosen so they can soothe circles into the skin there. After a moment Gale laces the fingers of one hand with his while the other hand reaches up to graze the skin of Bucky’s face.

Bucky can’t look away, can’t breathe. He’s mesmerized and terrified. He feels bare and naked before this man. He feels seen in a way he’s not sure he’s ever been seen before. This is a level of tenderness and adoration he’s never experienced before and he’s not sure he can handle it.

“Gale… “ He can hardly get the word out. He wants to kiss the man, but Gale is moving again, his lips traveling across Bucky’s face touching every inch of his skin.

“Shut up, John, I’m talking.”

Bucky actually laughs then. It bubbles up from the warm full feeling that has begun to fill his chest since Gale came to stand beside his bunk. Leave it to Gale to think that this is talking. No wonder their communication is so bad. Bucky reaches his free hand up to push Gale’s face away gently.

“Gale… you’re really not.” At Gale’s grumpy look, Bucky continues. “Use your words. I’m— I’m still confused. What about Marge?”

“What about her?”

“Gale—“ Bucky is flustered, he’s angry on Marge’s behalf, “You’ve been writing to her this whole time— I— you’re in love with her! Every time you’re with me you’re thinking of her! I’m just a fill-in that you’ve taken pity on a few times. What do you mean, what about her? What about me?” Bucky props himself up on one elbow so that he doesn’t have to have this conversation lying down. He’s breathing hard despite the way the words are only a harsh whisper in the quiet of the bunk.

Gale moves with Bucky, letting them sit up in the bed as much as they can with how close the bunk above them is., but he doesn’t move from straddling Bucky’s hips. He has a contemplative look on his face as if assessing everything Bucky just said. Bucky isn’t sure what to make of that. He expected Gale to instantly agree with everything he said and leave him be after that.

“You’re right about one thing. I am writing to Marge. I’ve known her forever. But you’re wrong about everything else… first of all, I never took pity on you. Second of all, you are not a fill-in. Lastly, I’m not in love with Marge the way you think, and I certainly never, ever think of her when I’m with you.” His eyes are clear and sure, holding Bucky’s gaze unwaveringly.

Bucky is at a loss, he almost can’t speak.

“Never?”

Gale runs a hand through Bucky’s hair, tender and full of so much more meaning after that confession.

“Never.”

Bucky’s mind is reeling. How can this be real? This means that every time— every touch— every kiss—

“What about the first time?”

Gale gives Bucky the softest smile, the kind that lives in his eyes and touches the edges of his lips. “I’ve wanted you since before we shipped off to England, Bucky. I figured if you needed something to justify making that first move I wasn’t going to argue with you. I was just happy to kiss you like I always wanted to.”

Bucky is speechless.

“If you wanted me all the way back then, then why were you with Marge that night? Why agree to write to her?”

“What would you say if I told you she knows how I feel about you?”

That makes Bucky stop altogether.

“What?”

“She doesn’t mind. Sometimes I tell her about you. She’s glad that you make me happy. She wants to get to know you better after the war, too. I care about her, but since I met you— John I never felt so strongly about someone before I met you.”

Bucky searches Gale’s eyes. There’s only one thing that look could possibly mean. He’s afraid of it, but more afraid of never hearing it said, so he licks his lips, voice vulnerable in the quiet of the night, putting everything on the line for the possibility of those three words.

“You love me?”

“Shit, I— yeah, I do,” Gale says, caressing Bucky’s cheek gently. “I love you, John.”

“Fuck, I love you too, Gale.”

The kiss they share then is one Bucky will never forget. The first one where he knows with one hundred percent certainty that it’s him that Gale loves and adores and wants. Lips have never felt so right on his than Gale Cleven’s.

Bucky’s not entirely sure what the war will bring them next, but he’s known for a long time that it’d be him and Buck, and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon.

Gale Cleven is his forever.

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artemiseamoon · 10 months

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Draft release: Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey

Agent Cognac (Bria Asare) x Agent Jack Whiskey

✨Draft release! ✨

💕Summary: Working at the Statesmen medical department, Bria started her career with aspirations of being an agent. Years after starting, it seems like that dream is never going to come true. Days after her 38th birthday, one of the senior agents gets gravely injured and she’s soon tasked with his care and recovery.

But there’s one issue, she can’t stand Agent Whiskey. As the weeks pass, and he starts to heal, the two form a bond and grow closer. As Jack’s health improves, he realizes the extent of his growing feelings for Bria as she comes to terms with her feelings for him too. 💕

Words:3,983

One shot for Arte’s Year of Whump for @yearofcreation2023 |I’m months behind , so making this the May one 😬| | Year of Whump + fluff /comfort masterlist

💫Below is a preview | read in full here on A03💫

An: still on a mini writing break, just occasionally releasing some drafts. My folder is way too full and taking up space on my phone. 💕this one is more fluff /comfort leaning.

Warnings: light on whump, recovery after injury, misogyny mentioned.

Bria always had two things she imagined for herself, being able to help people and work in the medical science field and being a world-traveling spy.

Growing up she was always glued to the screen for any shows about spies, secret agents, and detectives. It was something she wanted to do before she realized her draw to the medical field in high school.

The dream of being an agent was her first, and still her biggest one. And though she was in the right place for it, she still wasn’t an agent.

She was head of her department and got to work with tech and science, both things she liked, but she still wasn’t an agent. But this was a problem for more than one person at the office, namely Ginger who was also qualified but shot down whenever her name came up.

For all the perks and benefits of working there, the place was still deeply misogynistic in several ways, both from within the system and due to some of the men involved. And though there were women agents, the percentage was far less than that of the men.

Some offices were more progressive, like the New York office. Sometimes Bria wondered if a transfer there would be worth it, and maybe then she could finally have her wish come true. There was also the fact that aside from her job and friends being here, there wasn’t much keeping Bria in Kentucky. Maybe, New York was her future.

After a few days off for her birthday, Bria returned to the office. Upon arrival, she was surprised to find a new patient in her center. Agents get hurt, but that wasn’t the surprising part, what shocked her was who it was.

Some people had a shit ton of luck, and somehow barely got a scratch on them, Agent Whiskey was one of them and he was cocky about it too. The man was damn near indispensable, it was impressive but also fed his massive ego.

This place had many big heads and egos walking around, and Jack was one of them. While many women in the office, and men, fell for his charms and ate out of his palm, Bria wasn't one of them. No matter how physically attractive the man was, and really easy on the eyes, his attitude and ego were a major turn-off for her.

Thankfully she had limited contact with him, but the few times they did circle each other just reaffirmed what she felt about him. Nice to look at but stay away. And though she turned him down a few times, he’d still hit on her now and then. But she never took it too personally, he hit on everyone he liked the look of, it was hard to tell if his interests were genuine sometimes, or if he was just doing it to do it.

Read in full on A03

More Whiskey on my Masterlist

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#agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #kingsmen golden circle #Jack whiskey x ofc #artes year of whump (plus fluff and comfort)#Agent Whiskey x Agent Cognac

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error-dream-was-found · 8 months

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I would love to see more from Enderchest torture ngl

Don't worry, I've got you covered!

I'm not really sure what to talk about so lets talk about the inside of the enderchest and how it might affect blob!

To cover this quickly ... the inside of the chest is nothing. Like, nothing. Empty. Void. No light, no sound, nothing but you and eternal nothingness. Sensory deprivation box 10 000. You do not wanna get stuck in this. On the bright side, the chest's magic prevents Dream from dying of thirst or starvation, in fact time passes differently there, slower than in the world outside. I'm not decided on what exactly the ratio is but the 5 years that passed weren't 5 years for Dream (I have no idea what 5 years of complete sensory deprivation would do to him so I'm backing off from that) still it was damn long (I'd say between a few months and a year cuz I really have no idea)

I struggle to decide how this will affect Dream. Currently I'm kinda working with stuff like sensitivity to light and noise, dissociation, memory loss (he already struggled with this in prison, mostly he doesn't remember stuff from before prison) and of course serious lasting damage from torture.

When he's finally released from the chest, he has no recognition of Sapnap or Karl. He only vaguely recognizes Quackity. Even then he only associates him with rules, pain and the box (as he calls the enderchest). He also developed a pretty serious self-harming habit.

In the chest he couldn't see or hear anything (not even himself when he spoke, after being out he struggles differing between his thoughts (not that there were many, most of the time he just kinda dissociates) and what he said out loud). The pain soon became a comfort, it proved that he still exists, that somewhere in that dark is a body. That he is in fact still alive.

For the longest time he is overly sensitive to any sound or light. It's overwhelming for him no matter how soft it is (even the sound of his own voice sometimes bothers him, he's not used to hearing it). This makes taking care of him quite difficult for the fiancees (now husbands as you might've noticed)

Snippet:

Sapnap entered the room slowly, trying his hardest to make as little noise as possible. He thought he was doing a decent job, the sob from the bed told him he didn't.

Dream sat curled on the sheets, keeping his head hidden in his knees. A first sign that today is a very bad day. Still the blaze tried, approaching carefully, keeping his voice barely audible.

"Dream?"

The blonde shook his head, as if he was trying to deny the whole situation. His hands clapped over his ears firmly, making the ravenette sigh. He wanted to help his friend but how could he when even talking seem to make things worse? On most days he'd just leave and give Dream time to calm down, or dissociate, but today he couldn't. It's been 2 days since Dream last drunk and even longer since his last meal. That might've been the most frustrating part, Dream completely ignored his body's needs. They didn't know much about what the inside of the chest was like but given that Dream was still alive and not a starved corpse it was very likely that he didn't need to eat or drink in there. That probably explained why he always forgot to do it now. The first few tries that got him to throw up immediately didn't help either.

But he had to eat! He- he had to ... if he won't ... Sapnap wasn't ready to lose him again. He had to make sure Dream lives, if not for his own sake than for Quackity's. The duck hybrid was devastated after he realized what he's done. He was just coming to peace with what happened in the prison, what he did in search of power. This- this hit him hard. If Dream died now Q would forever blame himself.

"Dream, please, you need to eat."

The blonde only shook his head again. Whenever it was a response to Sapnap's words or just an attempt to block out his voice was unclear. The blaze felt tears weight in his eyes but he ignored them in favour of looking around the room to ensure the blinds were closed properly. On good days Dream could handle dim light the curtain let in without trouble but direct sunlight was something he could take just yet, not even with blindfold on. Speaking of ... Sapnap's eyes caught on the strip of fabric discarded on the bed next to Dream. He must've became overwhelmed by it again.

At this point tears fell freely of blaze's amber eyes. For 5 years he thought that his best friend is death. And despite everything he missed him. Even after more than 6 years he'd sometimes looked over his shoulder, Dream's name on his lips with some lewd joke, only to meet an empty space where his friend should be. There was a hole in his heart no amount of laughing with his husbands could fill. He never stopped regretting the last words he told Dream. The goddamn promise! His best friend died thinking that he hates him. He'd do anything to be able to speak to Dream one more time, to apologize and-

Now after all those years his wish came true. Dream was alive ... and Sapnap almost wished he wasn't.

@bleue-flora you might like to check this out?

#if you have more questions feel free to ask :)#ask #dreamwastaken #dream smp au #dream au #dream smp

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bigmac-macready · 2 years

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Post Movie MacReady x Reader Headcannons

Really excited to post these because I'm hoping to post a fic related to them soon. Also cuz it'll be a year this Monday since I've been head over heels for this man (tw: mention of eating disorder and alcoholism)

Even though you are of course also affected with frostbite, not nearly as bad as Mac (seeing as he tried his best to protect you from the cold) so even though you are released a few weeks before him you still stay with him

You decide after that to share an apartment seeing as he needs time to heal and you still want to be with him

Since you don't have any previous trauma like Mac does, you are only put on partial disability, and decide to pick up a small job

For the first few months after he's out of the hospital it doesn't even feel like you're living with anyone, Mac is practically silent. Day in and day out all he does is watch TV and drink.

But with your help he pulls out of it a little, but not by much. When he does begin to speak with you his patience is thin and his temper is on edge. He sometimes gets upset because you take care of him. Either he feels that you shouldn't feel obligated to stay, or that he can take care of himself (he can't.)

You typically sleep separate unless one has a horrible nightmare, which Mac's are more frequent.

If you have a nightmare and he hears he'll check on you and stay with you, but unless his are so bad they keep you awake, he hates to be comforted.

However when they are that bad, he'll allow you to hold him and let him cry no matter how weak it makes him feel. Sometimes he'll even slip into bed with you and and try his best to fall back asleep.

Typically though, these happen when he's drank more than usual and passed out. The night of he allows himself to be vulnerable because he's frightened, but the morning after when he's hungover he tends to snap. Especially when you suggest that his drinking makes his nightmares worse.

And unfortunately besides those times, Mac tends to shy away from your affection.

It's not because he's fallen out of love- but even before everything happened he's never felt worthy of you, now even more.

He mostly hates the fact that you take care of him more than anything, he feels he's restricting you.

And he thinks his scars make him ugly, though after awhile they fade, some only making bare patches in his beard and a few across his cheeks.

He also hates his body more than anything, but what he doesn't understand is that when he starves himself it scares you. So you try and convince him that being a bit heavier than before is alright, he doesn't realize how much he's been through.

On a lighter note, there are good days.

After a while you manage to get him to help you cook, and it's slow work but it's good for him to learn to do things again. (Tbh probably for the first time he is a typical man.)

Sometimes you'll walk together to get some fresh air, or even go out grocery shopping together, it's the little things.

The days that are bittersweet is when he constantly remembers everything you do.

Some days when you are helping Mac get things ready for dinner and he's frustrated with himself, trying to convince him he's still so handsome, comforting him even when he's grumpy, or even just coming home from work, he realizes over and over again how much you mean to him.

It upsets him so much and it hurts to see him this way, but when this happens he holds you tight and you feel like crying because everytime it's "I love you so much...but I wish I knew it more."

#rj macready headcannons #rj macready x reader #rj macready #the thing 1982 #audria scribbles #angsty man rip

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newmusickarl · 1 year

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youtube

Top 50 Albums of 2022

9. Life In Miniature by Low Island

We're finally into the single digits now and I couldn't think of a better way to start than with the brilliant second album from huge blog favourites, Low Island.

Much like The Amazons, the Oxford-based electro-pop outfit are another band I've followed from their early days, first discovering them off the back of their incredible early single That Kind of Love. It was love at first listen as they say and since then, I've enjoyed watching the quartet further finesse and elevate their sound with each new project. Last year's debut was exceptional, storming its way into my Top 20 Albums of 2021 and you may remember their Just Another Dreamer EP landed in my Top 5 EPs of the year earlier in the countdown too. However as great as those two projects are, Life In Miniature is for me their best release to date.

A hugely inspiring response to a painful and difficult period marked by grief and change, Life In Miniature is a tightly-produced whirlwind of electronic flourishes and hooky pop melodies, securely anchored in heartfelt, beautifully written lyrics. Here is what I said about the album in my original review for Gigwise at the start of November:

“The thing that makes Low Island’s output so impressive is the fact that they are truly an independent outfit. Self-financed and self-produced, their work is released on their own Emotional Interference record label and incredibly their debut album was not even recorded in a professional music studio. In fact, the vocals were recorded in a bedroom cupboard of all places! It is this DIY nature that has brought a rawness and an authenticity to Low Island’s music that has helped to set them apart from some of their peers. Now, just over 18 months after delivering one of the best debuts of 2021, Low Island have returned with their excellent sophomore outing – Life In Miniature.

As the name of the record suggests, it is a snapshot of the last two years in which frontman Carlos Posada seemed to encounter all of life’s blessings and curses during one quite intense period. From love and loss to happiness and grief, to sad endings and new beginnings, here Low Island present a beautiful tapestry of treasured memories that, although personal, impactfully resonate out of the audio through lyrical gut-punches and life-affirming sonic uplifts.

The emotional heart of the record then lies in the two songs which both pay tribute to Carlos Posada’s late grandfather, Robin, who sadly passed away earlier this year just days before the release of their Just Another Dreamer EP. The first ‘Forever Is Too Long’ initially bares a slight resemblance to Radiohead’s ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’, until Posada’s gorgeous falsetto gracefully guides the listener into a bright, heartening chorus, the words of which echo those of a poem his grandfather once wrote for him: “Always know, I’ll see you through, life’s ups and downs, my love is true.”

After using his grandfather’s words, Posada then cleverly incorporates samples of old family recordings and his grandfather’s piano into the touchingly titled Robin, which once again pulls hard on the heartstrings thanks to lyrics like “cling to the thought of you, can’t quite believe it’s done, I miss all of your stories, every single one.” The sincerity in the songwriting really shines through on both tracks and you’ll really struggle to not be deeply moved.

With Life In Miniature, Low Island have successfully built on last year’s debut with another strong collection of songs that simply radiate with electronic majesty whilst also frequently moving you to your core. The songwriting really is the star of the show this time, gifting a beautiful reflection on life, love, death and memory that is just stunningly poetic in its blend of joy and melancholy. This may be Life In Miniature but the lasting impact is closer to the max.”

Read the full review for Gigwise here

Best tracks: Forever Is Too Long, Robin, Kid Gloves

Listen here

#new music #best new music #album recommendation #albums of the year #album of the year #best of 2022 #best of the year #aoty #aoty 2022 #albums of 2022 #best albums of 2022 #low island #robin #life in miniature #Youtube

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Note

when you start writing for ushijima >>>>>>>>>>>>>

can you tell im begging?

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

inevitable | u. wakatoshi

➳ tags ;; fluff n smut, getting together, first times together, unprotected sex, intentional lower case 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.9k (WHAT THE FUCK)

➳ a/n ;; ask n u shall recieve (i had rlly bad brainrot tn actually)

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

if you had to describe ushijima wakatoshi in one word, you think the word you would chose is inevitable.

in·ev·i·ta·ble | /inˈevidəb(ə)l/ adjective certain to happen; unavoidable

of all the ways you could describe a person, it's probably not the best word. you could think of a laundry list of other ones to describe - really. hard-working, dependable, strong-willed, mindful, cautious. he's a lot of things and you think that's why he's so good at what he does. he's powerful but he he's brilliant at where he uses that power.

you would also use words like that to describe him, if you had too. if you had to give someone the run-down of wakatoshi - you could probably give them a whole speech about his accolades. he's probably the kindest person you know and he does that mostly on accident. he helps little old ladies carry groceries and lets your niece climb his arms like monkey bars with the most plain look on his face.

he's a lot of things - funny on accident, charming on purpose. but of all the things he is - to you, the thing he is most, is inevitable.

it's not hard for you to admit that you weren't exactly.. welcoming to ushijima when you first met him. you were a barista and he was well.. a big, pro-athlete who came to buy straight dark coffee every morning. after his work-outs (or what you figured was workouts since he always looked pretty sweaty) he bought himself precisely one pastry and a bottle of water and went about his day.

and it went like that for months. obviously you found him handsome - the way you could basically autopilot your shifts but completely broke down when he was there was evidence of that. he was tall, broad, handsome and nice. the kind of man who meets your grandmother, you think.

he always asked about you and you gave him short answers. too nervous to elaborate but he made you anyways, somehow and some way. and he comes back to you every week with details of your life you'd only mention in passing. he'd chuckle - a soft little smile at the way your eyes went wide. for someone so dense, he wasn't all that out of touch when it came to you. one morning your hands trembling just a little more than normal when you hand him back his change

(he tells you later he paid in cash just to see you stumble)

and he asks you with a plain look. observant.

"do i make you nervous?"

that's when you knew, really. you stood no chance against the all-consuming force that was and is ushijima wakatoshi. the subtlety and nuance in all of his actions left you worse for wear and any suspicions you had about how he might be treating you were to be confirmed much later down that line.

he's dense in the same way avocadoes are fruit. it's true, technically - but in a lot of ways and functionally it's just not the same. you think that the better word to use for him is selectively intelligent - like he doesn't bother thinking about anything that doesn't interest him for more than two minutes. but on the rare occasion it does interest him, i.e how you interest him - he becomes some kind of expert.

you've always been a little stubborn when it came to love. heartbreak does that to you - and you were overly cautious with ushijima. you let your heart walk on eggshells. you didn't let his gestures or touches or glances mean anything to you. you didn't let yourself be swayed by the smell of his cologne - sweet and woodsy on the back of your throat. not by the way he placed his hand on your lower back to walk past you on days off.

and when he took you out, to see the movies and stargaze, you told yourself it isn't a date. you tried your best really. because there is something really unbelievable about ushijima wakatoshi liking you - beyond the fact that he's some pro-athlete.

there's something about him that's a little unreal. not that he's perfect, but that all of his flaws make him more attractive. it almost bothers you but he doesn't seem to understand when you give him those lengthy explanations. hands making all types of gestures, flustered as he smiles. he doesn't take anything from your little lecture that day, just gives you a once over as he drives you home.

"oh, so you find me attractive?"

you didn't stand a chance. he was, and is, inevitable. everything about him has this powerful but subtlety all-consuming nature to him. you think the best way to think of it is like letting yourself float. the way you release the weigh in your body and inevitable give into letting it hold you. even if waves came - you'd probably stay in that state.

ushijima is like that. a constant presence and overwhelming force. you get swayed without even thinking. he could probably become president, if he really wanted. lucky for everyone else, he just wants to play volleyball. you think that it's a shame in equal parts that it's a gift but you digress.

the point is that you could never really be away from ushijima. and as hard as you tried to avoid the growing affection - you find that ushijima is always a few steps ahead. always reaching far beyond you with big, strong hands.

you try so hard, to avoid the inevitable. you do it with your whole soul. you're honestly just.. intimated. you've never felt something like him before - not once in your whole life. you're afraid of what'll happen when you succumb to the waves so you dodge the deep sea for weeks and weeks.

he found you after your shift one day after 3 weeks of dry texting and avoided phone calls. wearing a suit and a purple shirt and a nice watch, he has flowers too. and you're in.. a barista uniform with tousled everything and smudged mascara.

inevitable is really the only word. as you stop dead in your tracks, and as ushijima pulls you aside with the mostly gentlemanly smile. you kind of wanna cry when you look at him.

"i've waited a long time but i don't think i can much longer,"― he shifts a little. he almost looks nervous - it's the first time you've ever seen him look anything but overwhelmingly confident ― "i like you and i'd like to be with you,"

he doesn't really offer you much other than a confession and his hands. the frustrating thing is that he doesn't need to. it's the first time he's seen you cry but he handles you well, does it easily like he does everything else. like somehow he's just good at it, soothes you while you sob into his chest and melt into his presence and let yourself fall underwater.

in a probably not so surprising turn of events, you find that ushijima fucks with the same approach that he does most other things.

with careful consideration that seems effortlessly. it makes you feel a little hopeless that he feels good at everything. even at comforting you.

the first time you have sex, you take off his shirt for him. and he takes your hand and puts it up to his chest. gives you the most gentle look. his heart-beat is rapid.

"you make me .. nervous too. just so you know,"

the one thing about ushijima is that everything about him is big and wide and broad. he kisses you like he's trying to circle the solar system - there's a slowness to it. a vastness as he has you seated in his lap with his hands exploring up your body. his hands are everywhere. he's good with them. not too gentle but not too rough as the spread your thighs open.

he cups your pussy and it fits in his whole palm. his middle finger teases your slit as his kisses travel south, down your jaw and onto your neck. they latch onto your chest with a little breathless sigh - like he can't even breathe. it makes you clench when he talks to you - raspy.

"you're.... beautiful,"

he makes you shy. so shy as you lean forward a little and rock into his hand - a burning need nipping at you. and his eyes widen and his cock stiffens and his breath hitches and you think this is the first time you've caught him off-guard before. you wanna bask in it but you're too desperately so you latch onto his lips again.

ushijima does everything right. with knowledge in it. he kisses you and sucks on your tits and plays with your clit with this.. knowing. he likes seeing you fall apart he thinks. he likes how you get when he takes it much slower than he needs too - how he drags you through one orgasm to another with this lithe. he lets you lean over his shoulder when he fingers you - and his two fingers stretch you out like four of your own.

his cock is big. bigger than you think any person could ever take. you stare at it for a long while, gaping at it. your hands barely fit around it and that image burns itself into ushijimas brain like a permanent memory. your mouth falls open and your eyes look hazy and ushijima thinks that he's never wanted to be inside of something so bad before.

"it's so big," ― you whisper, hoarse ― "i-it won't fit,"

"i'll make it fit," ― is his only reply, kissing the crown of your head ― "sit tight,"

he does, by the way. make it fit. he makes it fit good - makes it stretch your pussy out but you don't feel like you'll break. there's a little pressure inside, and your clit swells with desire and blood - but it fits. and his eyes are glued to the way your cute little cunt seems to be swallowing him like it's nothing. it's enough to make him lose his mind.

"c-can i move?"

you nod and he does. slow at first. he draws the noise from you - a slow and soft moan leaving your lips as he drags his cock in and out of you. but it gets faster, goes much faster than you thought it could.

eventually he has you bouncing in his lap, on his cock, with such force that you feel like you can't breathe. it feels unbelievable, sets off a supernova in your gut like at any moment you could come undone. you feel like you're breaking and ushijima doesn't help, soft grunts and whispered affections.

"you're so beautiful," and "im so happy" that make you feel dizzy. you'd probably give him anything he asks for. he bounces you on his cock and lets his thumb just rest on your clit and you're so close you can almost taste it.

"cum for me," ― like he's begging ― "please,"

what choice do you have anyways? you cum on his cock with a silent scream, like your voice is tearing a blackhole into space and you shudder while he holds you in place. he finishes only seconds afterwards.

"did it feel good?"

you give him a wide-eyed look. he's dense at times. you don't know how to hate him for it so you just sigh and nod, cozying to him.

"y..yeah,"

he kisses your forehead, sweaty and tired.

"good,"

yeah. you were right.

you never had a single chance of winning against him.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#WHY DID THIS GET SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK #return to sender #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #prettyboy.thirsts #formal #writing tag #IM GONNA BE SICK HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut

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titan-fodder · 2 years

Text

You’ll Change Your Mind [Reiner Braun x Reader]

Rating: M (mature)

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, hurt/comfort, pregnancy talk, family pressures, mentions of mental health issues, mention of reader being epileptic

A/N: this is a soft and quite personal little thing I couldn’t get out of my head cause I’ve been feeling a little isolated after a conversation with new coworkers and also friends having babies/baby fever and straight up not relating eesh~

You’re quiet on the ride home, staring out the window at the passing cars and barely even blinking. Typically, you skip at least five songs during any trip, always searching for the right one, but currently you don’t seem to care, so Reiner knows you’re upset.

He also knows exactly why.

“Baby–”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, but your voice is nothing more than a murmur.

He knows not to press the issue. You’re processing, gathering your thoughts, and Reiner has a feeling you’ll let him know everything on your mind sooner rather than later, probably with cracking words and tearful eyes.

He doesn’t understand why his mom can’t drop the fucking subject. She’s gotten a little better at keeping her mouth shut, but every once in a while, she just can’t help herself.

“Well, when you two have a baby…”

“I saw the cutest little boy, and I couldn’t help but think of you.”

“You’ll make such good parents.”

And, when you both respond the same way– “We don’t want kids,” Reiner’s mother just gives you—as in you specifically—that patronizing look and tells you, “It’s different when it’s your own,” or, even worse, “You’ll change your mind one day.”

It is infuriating. Reiner tries to mediate, reminds his mom about the validity of not wanting children, but she just doesn’t get it.

She may not be outright shaming either of you, but there is definitely manipulation present, and every time she does this, Reiner watches the way you try to laugh it off, try to smile and be polite, try to hide your genuine remorse for disappointing her.

The first thing you tell him when you get back to the house is, “I’m gonna hop in the shower,” which is code for I’m gonna go cry it out. Before you can get away from him, though, Reiner takes your hand and pulls you close, giving you a short but meaningful kiss then releasing you to your own devices.

For a few seconds, he just stands there at the threshold, sighing and massaging his forehead, then when he hears the shower turn on, he plops himself down on the couch, grabs one of the throw pillows, and uses it to muffle his loud groan of frustration.

You’re letting this eat you alive, and knowing that is eating him alive.

When Reiner was young and would think about his future, he usually saw a child in the mix, but the older he got, the more he realized he only envisioned that because it was what society expected of couples. He watched the world begin to crumble, witnessed hate and tragedy every day, and when he met you and you told him you weren’t interested in having kids, he found that he was relieved—like he was able to let out a breath he’d been holding for years.

Truthfully, he has no fucking place raising a kid–can’t imagine the type of issues he’d pass on. His family’s medical history is no joke, and Reiner isn’t the most stable either. The fact that you put up with him is still hard to believe even after years of dating and a few months of marriage, but you’re an adult. You can understand him better than he can understand himself most of the time.

A kid, though? A kid won’t be able to grasp why daddy is pacing back and forth in the hallway with his hands on his head, won’t recognize his “low-power” days for what they are, where all he can do is lay in bed and hope tomorrow is better. A kid won’t understand the pills or the appointments. A kid won’t understand that the ‘no guns in the house’ rule isn’t entirely for their safety but for Reiner’s.

And, those are just his issues. You have them too. Fuck, Reiner loves you, but you… you are just as neurotic as he is. You rip your hair out and bite your nails until they bleed. You check the doors throughout the day and night, every electrical outlet, every knob on the stove, and then you check them again. You cuddle blankets, plushies, and Reiner, and you rock yourself back and forth on the couch or in bed.

How are the two of you supposed to take care of a child when you struggle to take care of yourselves?

It’s hard to explain all of that to your parents, though, hard to show them how difficult it gets sometimes, and you thought you had an ace up your sleeve with the whole epilepsy thing—it’s what made reality come crashing down on your mother at least—but Reiner’s still doesn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation.

“It would be dangerous. For her and a baby. She’d have to come off her medicine–”

“Honey, there are other medications that could help. There are plenty of women with disorders who still get pregnant.”

“She has seizures, mom! Like, hardcore, convulsive fucking seizures! She could fall and hurt herself. She could fall on her stomach–”

“I’m sure the doctors would keep a close eye on her.”

It’s like talking to a wall, and the more his mom does this shit, the less Reiner wants to see her. He definitely doesn’t want you to have to deal with her, that’s for sure.

It just baffles him that her desire for grandchildren outweighs her desire to keep you safe and happy. You. The person who helped her own son out of the bleak pit of depression, who took care of him and scheduled appointments when he didn’t have the drive to do so. You saved him.

So, how the fuck is she okay with putting you in harm’s way? Doesn’t she know she would lose Reiner if he lost you?

When you appear again, you’re in your comfy clothes—a big shirt and a pair of Reiner’s boxers. Your eyes are puffy, and as you sit down next to him, he can feel the heat from your shower still radiating from your skin.

Reiner doesn’t say anything, but he does put his arm around you and tug you against him. You let him, leaning into his chest and clutching his t-shirt as the silence drags on until—

“It just feels like… something is wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Reiner is quick to assure you, resting his cheek on your head. “Or, like…” he thinks for a second and amends, “There are some things, but not wanting kids isn’t one of them.”

You let out something between a snicker and a hiccup, then swallow loudly, and Reiner can tell you’re teetering over your edge again.

“Mom is just simple-minded,” he continues. “It’s not a justification or anything, just… you know. She doesn’t understand.”

“‘Cause how could any woman not want kids, right?” you scoff, voice getting thicker with every word. “It’s supposed to be the most natural thing in the world. Like… what women were made for or… whatever.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“I do, I just—it’s like everywhere I turn. My coworkers ask about it, and my brother has his son now, and, like, all my friends have baby fever, and I just feel like—“

You sniff, shoulders growing tense, and then you’re burying your whole face in his chest and shaking.

“I feel like I’m—like I’m just w-watching from the sidelines. Everyone is part of this—part of this fucking c-club, and I didn’t get the fucking invite as a kid.”

Reiner rubs your back, his heart thumping heavily in his chest because this is different. He’s held you while you’ve cried about disappointing his mom, but he’s never heard this particular confession.

“I know a ton of w-women don’t wanna have kids, but I just—” you pause to suck in a shuddering breath then sob “—I feel alone.”

“I’m here, though,” Reiner reminds you softly, petting your hair with one hand while tightening his grip around you with the other. “I’m right here, baby.”

“I know,” you nod, “I know, and I love you so much, Reiner. It’s just like… I don’t even know how to explain it. Like people see me as wrong or stupid or naïve or something for not wanting them, but I can’t help it! I just d-don’t! And like, does that make me selfish? Does that—does that make me bad?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he says before he can think better of it, and when your fingers tighten in the material of his shirt, Reiner squeezes his eyes shut and backtracks. “Sorry, I just mean…”

He moves slowly, pulling your face away from his body then guiding you to look at him, and he hates how your eyes are so red where they should be white, hates the wet tracks down your cheeks because, “You are so good. In so many ways. If you wanted to, I know you’d be a great mom. You’ve taken care of me for years, so…”

You snort, though it turns into a cough, then wipe your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“But, you don’t want kids, and that’s okay. You shouldn’t be expected to. I know that, like, some aspects of the world still mirror history where women were only seen as child-bearers and housewives, but that’s fucked up.” As if you aren’t already well aware of that. “And, it’s not what I’m looking for in someone.”

“You don’t feel like you’re missin’ out or anything?”

Reiner wipes away another tear with his thumb and shakes his head.

“Not one bit. You know how much fucking money we can save without kids?”

You laugh at that. Really laugh. So he keeps going.

“You know how much time and resources we’ll have freed up to adopt dogs?”

Some of the light returns to your face, so Reiner feels better about pressing his lips to yours, unbothered by the salty taste.

“Never have to fuckin’ worry about a kid walking in on us in the middle of doin’ the do.”

“No emotional scarring,” you huff with a smile.

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

Reiner maneuvers you into his lap, and you let him, draping your arms over his shoulders and leaning against his chest as you nuzzle into his neck. He relaxes into the couch, keeps stroking up and down your spine, enjoying your weight on top of him.

“We can stop visiting Mom if you want.” It hurts to make the offer, but it hurts more to know that the recurring conversation makes you feel like this. And, it’s not like he can’t just go alone.

“I love your mom,” you argue, breath spilling over his throat and making Reiner shift on the cushion. “And, I know she means well. I don’t wanna just stop seeing her.”

“Do you wanna maybe sit down and have a real talk with her then? Like, we can really map everything out for her?”

You grunt in a way that indicates discomfort and ask, “You mean like… dining room table, us sitting across from her—”

“Box of Kleenex right in the middle ‘cause both of you will cry.”

You mutter a, “Shut up,” that Reiner is positive is paired with an eye roll, then bite his neck as if that’s some kind of punishment.

“I’m just saying! You’re—baby, I’m trying to be mostly serious, and you’re kinda turning me on, so—”

He feels you smile before you let go, and Reiner takes a deep breath as he lets that sizzle in his stomach settle again.

“Mom’s a cryer, and you’re a cryer, and honestly, I kind of am too, so…”

“Fine, I get it, box of tissues is a must.”

“Unless you just wanna leave it alone entirely,” he adds. “If you just wanna ignore her and keep going like we are, that’s also fine.”

You shrug, wiggling a little when he stops rubbing your back so that he’ll pick the movement up where he left off, then go boneless again.

“I’ll think about it. Feel like sitting down and setting the record straight would be like… telling a kid they’ll never go to Disney World or something. Like, it’d just be crushing her dreams.”

“She’ll live,” Reiner promises.

“Yeah, but what if…”

You go quiet again, but Reiner just waits, knows you’re getting lost in your head again. Maybe he should have let you keep biting him, given you a distraction.

“What if they’re all right?” you question meekly. “What if I end up regretting it?”

Your bottom lip is pushed out as it begins to quiver, and Reiner can’t help but run a finger over it as he asks, “You know what’d be worse than not having kids and regretting it?”

“Hm?”

“Having a kid you don’t want.”

Your next exhale is slow and steady, a small sniffle following closely behind, and then you murmur, “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be really shitty. Like, my nightmare.”

“I know,” he tells you, nosing into your hair. “Fuck what my mom and your coworkers and everyone else think. We’ll do what’s best for us—for you. Like, we could be parents if we wanted to, but we don’t. And, that doesn’t make us lesser fucking people. I think it makes us pretty self-aware, honestly.”

“How impressive of us,” you hum.

“Really is.”

Neither of you speak for a while, simply sitting and digesting. Reiner gets lost in the feeling of your heartbeat, waiting for your breath to stop shaking before he tries, “Feel a little better?”

“Think so,” you answer. “Head hurts, though.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, baby. Here—”

Reiner scoots you off of his lap and stands up, making his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He takes a couple sips himself, his body still a little tense from the conversation, but then he walks back to the den and hands you the cup, smiling fondly as you gulp it down.

Empty glass placed on the coffee table, Reiner sits back down next to you, grabbing your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You are strong… and, you are beautiful… and there is nothing wrong with what you want or don’t want for yourself,” he says seriously, eyes locked with yours. “Moms are great. Chicks who want kids are cool. Gotta have ‘em, you know?”

You laugh, and Reiner smiles before kissing the tip of your index finger.

“But, your choices are valid too. And, if anyone tells you you’re wrong or stupid or whatever, just let me know, and I’ll beat ‘em up or… something like that.”

Your little giggle is like music to his ears, and you fall into his lap once again, arms snaking behind his back to wrap around him.

Reiner kisses your temple, voice low when he asks, “You know I love you, right?” Because he does. He loves you so much he sometimes can’t stand it.

“I know,” you nod. “And, I love you too.”

Another longer kiss is shared, and Reiner thinks to himself, if he can just keep doing this forever—with you—everything will be okay.

No one else has to understand you because he does, and he always will.

#reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfic #tw:pregnancy

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baeshijima · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫!𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐲/𝐧

MASTERLIST

now, childe as a general streamer,,, he’s a whale in every sense of the word

…

poggers—

so childe as a streamer in general would be one word ;

✨chaotic✨

he would definitely be a variety streamer, but more so for games !!

especially pvp and/or pve games

competitive meta mf—

probably plays LoL, overwatch, apex legends, valorant and minecraft

don’t question the minecraft

he likes mining but has a personal vendetta against the creepers bc once they blew up his mansion

yes, a mansion

ask any of his community and they’ll tell u he spent a full-blown month and a half playing just minecraft to build it, only for it to go down just like that ;-;

his chat loved it tho <//3

he’s played honkai too !! mainly for the pve and grinding bc he’s a whale but uh,,, shhh

his community,,, his community are just a bunch of trolls at this point i cant even lie

they just KEKW, SADGE & COPIUM spam everything and the newer viewers get intimidated until they realise he deserves them all HJGKJHF

especially when he starts getting annoyed by the game,,, his reactions are too good to pass up on gn

typically when he does mario kart streams 👩‍🦯 that shit’s wild when it happens oh my

when he falls in rainbow road 🤡

and especially bc he has his webcam on, his viewers just see him internally dying or wanting to scream

also gets passive aggressive

shit talks everything and everyone when in that mood <//3

for what’s left of his dignity i won’t disclose what happens

definitely gets jebaited a lot too <//3 unfortunately he’s too easy for his chat ;-;

another mf with a massive community except he has a lot of friends (sorry not sorry albedo)

ppl have a love-hate relationship with him tbh; u either love him or hate him

no inbetween

unless u show ur love through bullying him then go off ig

his discord server, twt + yt are also really big too !! also verified on insta

also !!

he has lots of plushies :(( esp whale plushies from his community bc he’s the biggest whale they know <//3

but if u look at his setup, there’s a mini whale plushie on the top of his main monitor (he has 3), one big one (like,,, up to his chin) behind him, a smol on the top of his chair so u can see it above his head, and just more off screen HKJSDHL

they asked for a room tour once and half of it was just whale plushies

the rest were LED lights + shelves of merch & gifts from his community !!

he even has some fanmail (actual wholesome ones that aren’t cursed) pinned on a board too 🥺

also has an ensuite—

when he was eating on stream one time, his chat was sent into an absolute outrage

u know why?

bc he was eating noodles with a fork

bby ;-;

so sometimes he’ll get sent those beginner chopsticks with the finger guides to help him 👩‍🦯

he’s actually made sure to eat with them on stream tho bc he was sent one with a narwhal on top and he thinks it’s cute JHGJKH

nOW ONTO THIS MAN BEING WHIPPED FOR U AS A GENSHIN STREAMER !!!!

herkekle

now, his (also) AR56 ass has been playing since genshin first came out

an og if u will

this man,,, he’s been in love with u even before the game’s official release 🐥

not only were u in the promotional art and trailers, but he was also one of the beta testers so he got to try out ur character first hand in the early stages !!

and when i say he fell hard for u,

i mean it

when the game wasn’t released publicly yet, he wasn’t allowed to disclose any information and ngl, it killed him that he couldn’t talk abt u :((

so all he could do was say this upcoming was really nice so far and subtly brag abt u to everyone JHGKJSDFHLK

when the official ads & promotional art were finally released 🥺🥺 when i tell u he immediately went live talking abt the game and u HKGJHFDK

he didn’t care that he streamed at an ungodly hour bc he’s been waiting for the reveal for so long he needs to let everyone know </3

he retweeted everything from their official twt straightaway, made a yt video based off his spontaneous stream promoting the game + pinged his entire server abt it

yes

his nearly 200k server all got pinged abt this one game bc he’s in love with a character from it

and he has no regrets abt it <33

the day the game was available for download, he stREAMED THE ENTIRE DOWNLOAD PROCESS

while he and his chat were waiting, they decided to watch the trailers and character showcases to get a feel for the game, and played some mario kart to pass the time !!

as soon as the game loaded, he threw mario kart behind him and went on 🐥

he typed his name (ajax) for the when he chose aether and literally everyone was appreciating the aesthetics HKJFS

but childe,,, he was waiting for it to be over so he could see u ;-;

he appreciated the aesthetics, fighting mechanics & voice acting a lot tho !!

now he had gotten through all the tutorials, got all the chests he could he was finally in mond

and there u were 🥺 after the dvalin encounter u arrived before kaeya did

and boy did he show u off sm to his viewers HKJHKLF

they knew he was down bad before but now?? they know it’s hopeless to save him and if he ever falls out of love that’s when the world ends

luckily that’ll never happen tho <33

but he took !! so many !! screenshots !!

oh, and did i mention he changed his wallpapers to u? and his twt + discord pfps are also some very aesthetic screenshots of u from that first scene ;-;

he just appreciates u sm okay 🥺

he even clutched his chest where his heart is and sunk down his chair when he heard u speak 😩

his chat just spammed his downbad + y/nlove + SHRIMP emotes and he accepted them all with grace <33

now when he unlocks the wishing feature,,, u already know he’s wishing for u as soon as possible

ur in the standard banner so ur always there which he appreciates but he would’ve wanted u to be limited so he can rub it in ppl’s faces ;-;

and since it was the first release rewards, he had tons of wishes right off the bat !!

he was gonna roll for venti after he gets u bc,,, well does he need a reason??

also he doesn’t do well with archer characters in general ;;; but if ur an archer then ur obv an exception sooo

bUT he got a 5 star in his first 20 pulls !!

tho it was diluc 👩‍🦯

while he was happy bc he got an incredibly meta character right off the bat,

he wasn’t interested in diluc,,, (even now his diluc is barely looked after, and only used for spiral abyss, *sweats*)

the next 5 star he got was around the 60 mark, and he got a weapon,,,

i mean,,, he got the weapon that was most suited for u so that’s smth at least (ˉ▽ˉ；)

after he used all his remaining primos and fates, he finally got u 🥺

he just went “fuck the storyline” and immediately put u in his party and just

admired u as a whole

went through all the voice lines available, ur character story, ur idle animations (he had a heart attack from u and his chat clipped it) and took many, many screenshots

his favourite voice lines would have to be the night + about us + (y/n)’s hobbies

and then he equipped u with ur weapon and damnnn did u look so good with it 😩

he changed u to be his avatar, with his signature as :

“(y/n)’s whale <3”

and now the whaling process begins 👩‍🦯

after at least £2k, he got u to c6, along with at least 1 copy of all the standard 5 stars,,

then he went for venti’s banner—

his chat were just too focused on how he’s gonna play u to even think of anything else tbh HKJAH

with ur kit, u were honestly seen to be a dps or even a sub dps if ppl don’t want u on the field all the time

so definitely a perfect character for mr meta strimmer tartaglia (his twitch name btw ;;; childe is just smth he prefers his community to call him as but they also call him ajax too HKJSD) here

so he went through the archon quests with u as his carry and i won’t lie, ur name card is smth he has printed and framed behind him after he got it 🥺

he later finds out ur part of the fatui in the liyue archon quest tho and has to fight u with,,,

well, u ;;;

he finds it hot tho so it’s okay—

i won’t lie tho, his zhongli after he got him is his second strongest after u

he just builds all his characters in the most broken way he can so he can show his viewers that everyone can be a dps in their own right, not just the ones meant to be since there’s no right or wrong in this game !!

but now ur weapon is r5, ur lvl 90 and u have lvl 20 5 star artifacts that make u the most broken (y/n) seen

ppl who co op with him are honestly baffled,,, especially when the feature of them being able to view other players’ character stats become available,,,

u with ur nearly 3k atk,,,

he’s hit over 600k with u tho and he’ll always flex that

no one can top him as a (y/n) main and that’s honestly just a fact at this point 😩

when he saw that the dating sim hangouts was official, his immediate and iconic response was simply ;

“so when will (y/n) become a dateable, huh 🤨”

to this day he’s still waiting to be able to date u in-game <//3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #childe headcanons #childe scenarios #childe fluff #hsdkjfhklsdfs childe pls come hom on main ;-;#streaming dreams

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blipblooopp · 3 years

Text

Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

#ateez smut #ateez angst #choi san #san #san x reader #kim hoongjoong #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #choi jongho #song mingi #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #yunho #yeosang #hoongjoong #seonghwa

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amethystpath-writes · 2 years

Text

Stay Awake

(no one dies- I promise)

NOT A PR0MPT

A request if I may, though you are more than welcome to ignore this. I just really like the thought of ice and fire power hero x villain cuddles. Also make sure you have something to drink and eat!! Self care is important!

Thank you anon! Take care of yourself, too, mmkay?! I am going to put the rest of this request after the story so that it doesn’t take up a bunch of room at the beginning.

******

"Look, I know you guys are like...rivals, or whatever other childish thing you call yourselves, but she has a fever, and I can’t be around her like this."

On the other end of the line, Villain scoffed. "A fever?" She was literally over one-thousand degrees fahrenheit at times, and Friend was trying to tell him she had a fever? “No shit. I have a scar because she pushed me with her bare hands while mad. Most people-”

“No, I mean-”

“-touch me and get frostbite. She melted my skin right off. Truly a force to be reckoned with. You ever think her hair is actually red and she just dyes it, so she doesn’t fit the stereotype of a redheaded redhead?”

“Can you shut up for five seconds! God, you’re annoying.” The breath they released into the speaker nearly broke Villain’s eardrum. “She’s hotter than usual.”

“Oh, then maybe I should go see her. Last time I was around, she was trying to dip a barely functional spoon into a quart of melted cookie dough ice cream because she boiled her last boyfriend.” What a sentence. What a mess. Hero was scarred for months- wouldn’t step foot out of the house.

Friend grunted her irritation. “Well, there you go. If the only way you’ll take care of her is through a flirtatious joke, then here it is again. Hero is hot; she needs your help.”

He reached towards a bug, which had stupidly meandered into his winter home. “Why should I? We’re polar-” The bug froze at his touch, dropping with a solid thunk to the floor.

“Opposites?” Villain wouldn’t admit it, Friend knew, but he’d like to be warm just as much as Hero wanted to feel cold. “Get your ass over here. I’m about to burn to death and I haven’t even stepped inside.”

“Then how do you know she has a-”

They didn’t wait for Villain’s response to come to a close before hanging up on their call. Enough was said. Villain was taking care of Hero whether he thought he wanted to or not.

---

Not bothering to knock, Villain opened the door. “Hero? Hero, I-” He froze- though not literally. In fact, it was quite the opposite of freezing. Villain felt...well, his skin wasn’t sticky, and it wasn’t so dry that it was flaking off...it just was. His skin simply existed for once in his cold life.

Walking further in the room, Villain almost felt panicked. This feeling, it was too new to him. Sure, he’d been burnt by Hero before, but it was just that. Burning, not warmth. Many times, Villain tried taking a hot, or even warm shower, only to feel the same burning sensation which he felt when touching Hero. Extreme cold, extreme heat- the two didn’t mix. Yet, here Villain was, standing in a warm- so warm- home, whilst being an icebox himself. Warmth, what an odd concept.

“Hey, I- Friend told me you needed- Hero?” Villain nearly dropped his keys as he walked into the living room, as Hero was seemingly passed out on the couch. “Hero? Hero, hey!” Without a thought, he rushed across the room, and placed a hand on her bare shoulder. This earned a groan.

Hero felt hot, but not hot like she would burn a stove, like she typically could. She was hot in the way Villain was told someone with a fever might have felt.

Villain shook his head, satisfied knowing that Hero wasn’t dead, but not satisfied realizing Hero’s home was hotter than her own skin. He called Friend.

“Did you feel her forehead?”

“Did I- I thought you were just annoying, not dumb, too.”

Oh, how Villain resented Friend and all their obnoxious comments. “Her skin is colder than the room.”

“As I’d have thought. She’s sick- overheating. I told you she has a fever, right?”

“The room,” Villain reiterated with a crooked jaw- Friend isn’t listening, dammit, “is hotter than she is.” If Villain didn’t know better, he’d have thought he was sweating. “She’s losing heat, not gaining it.”

Finally, it clicked. “What? But that doesn’t make-”

“I think she’s exerting so much heat that it’s leaving her to fill the room.” Hero’s home was designed to accommodate for her...abilities- or disabilities. Who knew what to call it? Regardless, Hero’s room was colder than the average person’s; it had to be or else she’d burn the whole house down. Most people kept their homes at seventy degrees. Hero’s was below freezing. Even still, it was hotter than her now. “I don’t know why it wouldn’t just circulate back into her being, but...you know what? I’ll call you back.”

The A.C., or whatever the design for Hero was called, Villain figured, was probably broken. “Hero, where’s your Air Conditioning unit at?”

No response. Dammit, what if she actually was passed out this time? “Hero, hey.” He smacked her shoulder- maybe his hand was too cold for her at this moment. Lessening the amount of time the two had direct contact might not be a bad idea. It had never been like this. All this time, Hero had been Villain’s enemy, not the other way around. She was the one able to kill him- not at this time. Hero was hotter than Villain was cold.

Villain found the nearest window and opened it as he searched for the A.C.. He kept talking, hoping that if Hero was dying, then listening to a voice- even if it were his- would prolong that death, and give Villain enough time to correct it.

“I need you to stay awake, alright? Just so that I know you’re okay. I don’t necessarily know what I would or wouldn’t do without you, but- okay, look. I’m just here because friend sent me”- he increased his volume as he walked into another room- “so that doesn’t mean I want to be here. I’m not saying I don’t want to be here, but-”

He stopped when he heard a voice. “Are you still cold?”

“Uh, I- I feel kind of warm actually.”

“Then come here.”

Using a cough to change the tone, Villain said, “You know, there’s a nicer way of-”

“I’m cold- freezing- and I need you to warm me up.”

As he walked back into the room, he saw Hero staring directly at him from behind the couch. Villain took one deep breath. “Hero, I don’t think-”

“Please. Are you scared for yourself or for me- because you couldn’t make up your mind earlier, and right now, I am deliberately asking you to make up your mind?”

She was never so direct as this. Usually, it was Villain who was poking fun, teasing, or making fun of, making demands, and generally being a stoic ass. Hero was being forward- not an ass, but still, this was new.

“Okay, okay. But if I’m too cold then-”

“You are warmer than me right now. We established this. Right now,” Hero said, “you are a conductor and all the heat I’ve radiated has gone to the room since it was colder. You were colder than the room which means you’ve absorbed the heat. So- god I can’t believe I’m about to ask this.”

Villain smiled. “You need me to lay with you, don’t you?”

Closing her eyes, Hero nodded. She didn’t want to see the smug look on Villain’s face after asking something so vulnerable and- and stupid.

“Okay.” Villain nodded, squinting at the couch which Hero still laid on. “But two would fit better in bed.”

******

And here was the full request:

a villain and a hero, one with ice powers and the other with fire powers. Basically I kinda wanted cuddling. Who has what power is up to you, one reason(for cuddles) I thought of was the one with fire is sick, due to side effects of not using there ability(or over using them), so a friend is really worried calls the one with ice. normally neither of them can touch people as when they touch metal it melts(for the fire one), and freezes (for the one with ice) things completely. So the fire one is overheating and there powers are trying to compensate by moving the heat outwards and broke the AC, the ice one was originally supposed to just keep the temperature really low so the fire one could cool down, they end up keeping getting closer to each other wanting to be warmer/colder cause they couldn't really feel the other end of their spectrum naturally but were afraid to burn/freeze the other. I just kinda wanted them to end up cuddling in the end.

Thank you again, nonny!

#not a pr0mpt #request fill #fire and ice #🥵🥶#hero x villain #hero x villain story #hero x villain snippet #hero x villain drabble #hero #villain #villain caretaker #hero whumpee #heroes and villains #word count unknown but it's longer than my last few snippets so there's your comparison I reckon #I love the trope of heroes and villains having opposite powers #I am completely blanking on my usual tags but hopefully you guys see this #All the love!

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bubbledumbbinch · 3 years

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Hi, there! I'm new here! Can I get the dorm leaders' (including Jamil's) reaction to their fem! s/o who suddenly passes out due to stress and when she wakes up, she tearfully confesses that she was traumatized by their Overblots. What can they do to comfort her? Fluff/angst combo. Please and thanks!

Yes yes! I will only be including the people who have overblotted so far so no Ignihyde or Diasomnia yet!

I also am sorry I just didn’t want to make s/o faint in all scenarios? I did in most tho!! Sorry >< I hope this is okay!!

Also also, sorry I haven’t posted in SO long!! I just came back from 2 vacations including a week long trip to Disney world!!

Warnings: angst, spoilers for everyone’s chapters I guess?

Riddle Rosehearts

In the following weeks of Riddle’s overblot, he was working to try to be a better leader to Heartslabyul. However, old habits don’t die very easily. You saw Riddle’s wrath once again when he scolded some students who had gotten into a fight and had promptly used his unique magic.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!” His voice resounded off the walls and the harshness of his voice brought awful flashbacks into your mind. Then, everything went black.

When you wake, Riddle is over your body, his large grey eyes were scanning over you panicked. When he asked what happened, you broke down and told him that you remembered his overblot and fainted.

Riddle’s guilt would skyrocket. He never intended to hurt so many people including one of his closest friends Trey and especially not you. Even after a few weeks he didn’t realize it would weigh so much on so many others.

Riddle would turn red from shame while hiding his face in the crook of your neck. As he starts to chant “I’m sorry”s over and over, he starts to sob shakily, also making you start to release the tears that were in your eyes.

Riddle takes care of you personally - brings you to bed, attempts to cooks for you, studies with you, anything he can do to gain your trust back.

“I- I’ll be better. A better person. For you, for everybody in Heartslabyul, for me.” Riddle was hiccuping from crying. You kissed Riddle’s cheek and stroked it, trying to wipe his tears from his face. “I know, Riddle. I can see you trying every day and you’re getting better and better.” It was true. You personally saw him interacting with students and knew his relationship with everyone was improving. With time, things will get a lot easier to process emotions and the feelings from that eventful day.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s practice session for Magift wasn’t going as planned. You noticed he was getting angrier and angrier with his poor plays while sitting on the sidelines.

When he finally had enough he grabbed the disc and turned it into sand, growling in anger. He shouted at his teammates and physically threatened them.

You felt your heart stop as your boyfriend continued to scream. The last thing you saw before falling was Epel’s shocked face as you hit the ground.

When you woke up, the team members were all circled around you, only to be scared away by Leona’s growling.

When you admitted you had PTSD from his overblot, he looked away in shame. The beastman didn’t say much - it’s not like he COULD say anything. He knew he was wrong at that moment but he was only frustrated at the game.

Leona tries to spend more time with you by pulling you into his arms when he naps. He mumbles softly about being sorry and telling you he loves you. You know that it’s a lot for him to even do that, so it means a lot to you.

As Leona held you in his arms, you couldn’t help but tighten your arm’s grip on his. “My little herbivore… I’m sorry..” It was a whisper. Almost quiet enough to the point of you not hearing it. Soon after, the soft rise and fall of his chest indicated he was asleep. Leona’s pride was high. He never expressed his feelings through words - but feeling his arms embrace you protectively, you knew how sorry he was and how regretful he was to make you feel so upset.

Azul Ashengrotto

It had been a few months since you’d seen Azul overblot. You figured everything had gone back to normal - you were dating steadily, which was going well, and Azul treated you well.

One day though, he lost his control. Under his own stress and when his business affairs weren’t going as well as planned, he blew up and you heard him scream at someone from the outside the VIP room - all too familiar to the yelling he did when he overblotted.

You felt stuck - your feet were planted outside of his office and your nerves got the better of your motor functions. You knew you loved Azul but that moment when you saw his insecurities and too much power getting a hold of him, you were truly scared. You barely remember registering any memories as things started to fade.

“Shrimpy wake up!!” You were suddenly being shaken about, earning a gasp from you. Azul sighed next to Floyd and Jade. He asked you what had happened - he found you outside his office in a daze.

Once you truthfully told him about your memories of his overblot his expression fell. Azul was emotional and his feelings of rejection would flare up. You would need to tell him you still love him because something in him will tell him you don’t.

Azul spoils you a bit and makes sure you are not present or in the area, working in the lounge only when he isn’t dealing with complicated contracts.

Azul is also happy you weren’t traumatized due to the fact you saw his octopus form - he was very worried about that possibility.

“Angelfish, tell me, what is it you want? Anything, I’ll give it to you, please just forgive me…” Azul tearfully grasped your hands in his, glasses fogging up. It was seldom at times you saw Azul break his smile. “A-Azul, you can’t just give me something to make me forget. I need to process this and I wouldn’t be surprised if other people need to, as well. Just… be there for me.” You spoke, rubbing his cheek with your thumb as your hand cupped his face. Azul freely let his tears run down his face. “Of course, angelfish. I promise.”

Jamil Viper

You were simply looking over at the view of the desert sand from the common room of Scarabia. It wasn’t long after Jamil’s overblot.

Things have changed in the dynamic of the dorm - him and Kalim were closer now that suppressed feelings could be free, Jamil gained the trust back from most if not all the members, and you both started dating.

The more you stared into the distance, the more it reminded you of that fateful day. Visions of the dark red stormy sky invaded your thoughts while you swore you could hear Jamil’s sinister laughter growing louder and louder.

Memories being hurled from the dorm to the cold desert sand invaded your senses as you fell to the ground.

When you opened your eyes, you flinched back when you saw Jamil so close to you, making his eyes look hurt. Jamil would surround you with soft pillows and a silk sheet he must have borrowed from Kalim.

Once he finally pries your feelings out of you after you don’t want to tell him the truth, Jamil looks pained. He didn’t want to hurt you.

Jamil would give you time to think, knowing how much alone time is valued. Whether you want him to give you space or spend time with him is up to you.

“I’m, I’m sorry, y/n…” his eyes dropped to look at the floor, ashamed. “I’ll give you some time alone to think about our relationship, if that’s what you want.” The weight he added to the bed was lifted as the raven haired boy started to walk away. “No, Jamil, please stay with me.” Your voice seemed to shock him. He turned and looked at you, surprised. “I like you for you. I know you were having a hard time, and it was scary for you too. We can get stronger together! So please… don’t leave me.” You pleaded, cursing your voice for sounding weaker than you intended. Jamil’s brown eyes softened and a smile, a genuine one at that, made its way to his face.

Vil Schoenheit

Surprise surprise, Vil was checking the internet search results to see who the most beautiful one of all was. Vil had recently shot a movie and the trailer had come out an hour prior.

When the phone had still said the name he dreaded, he threw his phone down in frustration, making you flinch. He didn’t even know you were in the vicinity, you were in the hallway looking into his room as his back faced you in his room.

When you spoke his name softly, he replied callously in his response, making you freeze. His demeanor was mean to say the least, his eyes looked tired and he just looked angry.

It reminded you all too much of his overblot, which happened a few weeks back. You slowly backed into a wall and started to whimper.

Vil would realize his errors quickly and come running to your aid. He coos and strokes your hair, telling you he was sorry for lashing out. When you tell him it reminded you of his overblot, guilt racks through him.

Vil hugs you tightly and apologizes over and over. He would definitely be one to spend an entire day devoted to spoiling you, taking you to your favorite restaurant, giving you personalized facials, and shopping with you.

Vil knows this won’t resolve the issue, but he’s going to let you know how much you mean to him and how sorry he is, over time.

Vil looked over your shaking form with trembling hands. His soft, slender hands came to grasp your own. “Y/N, Y/N please answer me..!” You could only look away. “Vil, it reminded me of your… your overblot! I’m sorry…” your tears flowed freely now, staining your cheeks. You always thought you looked ugly when you cried so this only felt like salt in the wound. When Vil looked at you now, his eyes were looking into yours, deeper into you than what you physically offered. “I… that must have been scary for you, Y/N. I’m truly, so sorry. You had to see an ugly side of me that I never want to come out again.”

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #twst x you #overblot #twst dorm leaders

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

Text

On the Job pt. 2

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, fuck or die sex pollen (which means there are noncon/dubcon elements), reader is a sex worker, masturbation, face fucking, temperature play, (light) pain play, biting

pairing: todoroki x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

summary: Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just the things of porn and fantasy–they’re actually quite common and too often fall into the wrong hands. Heroes, of course, do the best that they can, but when they get hit, they must be taken off the line of duty and someone needs to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be? Obviously, you.

a/n: Half of me didn’t actually think that I would follow up part one, but I feel a heavy obligation towards my fanfic promises so...this is a weight off my shoulders, lol.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You’d gotten the call early today.

Not early in the day—truth be told, you’d hardly known what time it was before picking up the phone. No, you got the call early. As in not last minute. The call saying that your client would have to be transported to the agency from on site and they could tell you the details in the meantime.

The call saying you’d better drive to the agency, because you had to service a hero in an hour.

Now, patience wasn’t usually your virtue of choice—actually you didn’t often tend towards virtues in general. Save perhaps for kindness, which you preferred to deal out on your knees or your back, augmented by praise and the generosity of offering all three of your holes for your clients’ needs. But you were happy to cultivate it today, because an early call meant one thing.

You knew who was coming today.

Your pants were already off and you shirt was pushed up over your breasts as you leisurely played with yourself. You’d licked the tips of your fingers and gotten them started with slow passes over your clit, the other hand pinching your nipple, just a little too hard in prep for a hero who’d probably give it to you rough.

Maybe your reaction wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t kind of you to be so relaxed—relaxed and eager, actually—over the news that it was possible that Pro Hero Shouto would die. That he’d been hit with the particularly high stakes brand of aphrodisiac quirk and that if you didn’t trigger the release condition—that was: hot and heavy sex—his heart may very well stop or whatever happened on the other side of these troublesome quirks.

You wouldn’t know. After all, you hadn’t lost a single client yet.

So perhaps that was cold of you. Perhaps it would be more virtuous for you to be worried about him, fretting on the other side of the door with the guards over his ETA.

Then again, as stated: you’d never been one for virtue. Sin was much more fun. And surely it was better to make sure that whenever Shouto did show up, you had a wet pussy that he could waste none of his precious time sinking his cock into.

You groaned at the thought, dipping two fingers from your clit into your cunt and scissoring them. Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed against that front wall the flats of your fingertips, feeling that soppy wetness covering you and beginning to drip down your knuckles.

Yeah, you were ready for him.

In fact, you’d been waiting for Shouto longer than just today. After nabbing the number two pro hero, Dynamight, a few months back, you’d gone ahead and debased yourself further—how much further was there to go, though, really?—by creating a list of your dream clients. You’d written Dynamight just to check him off, the memory of him cumming in you raw and licking you clean still hot between your thighs.

Your near encyclopedic knowledge of heroes—naturally, you took a healthy interest in your job—had then led you to daydream about Dynamight’s whole hero cohort. You added Red Riot to the list, dreaming of his abs, imagining riding them, teasing sweet whines out of him before backing up and dropping yourself on his cock. You thought of Deku, what it would mean for your ego to nab the number one hero, the flash of jealousy that would rise on his face when you let it slip that you’d already fucked his biggest rival, fucked his goddamn brains out and yours to boot.

Of course, you couldn’t do that. NDAs, after all. You’d already signed away your rights to mentioning anything about what happened to or with Shouto today. Still, you could dream.

Then, of course, your thinking had truly devolved, and you’d thought about the boys being paired up, fighting a villain with an unknown quirk only to be hit by the ever common, ever unknown—thanks to you and your prudence; oops, there was another virtue—aphrodisiac quirk and having to take care of both of them. Spit-roassting, Eiffel Tower, a goddamn daisy chain—anything. Long story short, you’d ended up cumming twice more on your hands before the evening was done.

But also on that list, was Shouto Todoroki.

Who, if you weren’t mistaken, was now on the other side of the door.

After all, these walls weren’t soundproof. It provided quite the show for the lucky guards on the other side, but hey, if you needed to scream for help, they had to be there. By the same coin, you could hear the shuffling on the other side, the footsteps approaching, and the telltale sound of the lock on the door being activated. You pressed your legs together, resting them to the side, hiding your glistening pussy artfully with your legs for the sake of modesty. Everyone knew what was happening here, but you didn’t need to send Shouto’s poor handler back blushing to their colleagues.

Shouto was ushered into the room and, without eye contact, someone yelled to you, “Ready, ma’am?”

“Ready!” you called back, and the door was closed, leaving you alone with the number three hero.

Without modesty, your legs fell open, revealing the mess you’d already made of yourself to Shouto. You dipped the fingers you’d been using into your mouth, and cleaned them dutifully. After all Shouto was still wearing his costume, and you did so hate the agency having to send those to the cleaners with your fluids all over them.

“Hey, bud,” you purred, running a hand slowly up one thigh. “I heard you have a problem.”

Pro Hero Shouto was known for his stoic personality. News conferences and interviews he participated in always consisted of a slow, even tone, and little beyond cold facts. There was something pleasantly mysterious about that, sure, but it didn’t exactly hint that he’d be quick to jump into bed. Sexy voice, though.

But whatever quirk he’d been hit with must have been strong, because the next thing you knew, the index finger from his left hand was tracing down the front of his uniform, cleanly burning a line straight to his already tented crotch. His accessories had already been taken off—his belt, gloves, shoes, even the clasp at his neck had been undone earlier. So there was nothing in his way as he pulled either side of his scorched uniform to the side and off his arms as he approached the bed.

“All business, huh?” you asked, pushing yourself up off your pillows by your forearms, watching as Shouto climbed onto the bed on his knees, finally pulling his jumpsuit down past his crotch.

You’d taken a bet with yourself on the color of his pubes—it’s not like you’d be losing either way if you got to see them. They turned out to be dual-colored, but not the stark red and white of his hair. No, they were more neutral in tone, like yours. Unlike yours, they were nested above a heavy cock, already shining with precum—or actual cum, you didn’t know—at the head.

Shouto didn’t reply to your comment, and you weren’t surprised. Some people went totally nonverbal when hit by sex pollen quirks, and that was fine. You’d rather someone button their lip than ruin the mood by saying something off, after all. All business was fine by you—this was your job, after all. And no matter the size of his mouth, his cock was just fucking right.

You naturally lowered your legs as Shouto began kneeing over you, cock in hand. Your brain only just managed to catch up to what was going on when his legs stopped on either side of your ribs, his leaking cockhead crossing your eyes before you. Automatically, your jaw dropped open, and Shouto’s cock smeared pre against your cheek and the corner of your mouth before sinking deep into your mouth, drawing a first obscene moan out of him.

A humming moan fell out of you too, barely able to take in the taste of Shouto’s cock before it was pressing against the back of your throat, springing tears to your eyes automatically. Something about aphrodisiac quirks so often seemed to play with the taste of these heroes’ cum. No longer was it bitter, but just heady, salty, and more pleasant than it should have been as it coated your tongue and throat. You adored it, and purposefully relaxed your muscles so that you could take more of him in.

Shouto didn’t hold back. With barely half a breath in your lungs, Shouto was thrusting deep in the back of your throat so that your spit dripped from your mouth and smacked wetly between his balls and your chin. You blinked tears out of your eyes and looked up at him to find blown pupils staring back at you, gaze hot and pointed.

There was light behind those eyes. Whatever Shouto was right now, it wasn’t unthinking, not pure instinct. No, the way he was fucking your throat, the way his eyes had you pinned—it was intentional.

Abruptly, Shouto pulled out, a think strand of spit snapping from his dick, cold on your tongue as you panted from the rough treatment. You held your mouth open, expecting him to shove back in once you’d caught your breath, but Shouto seemed to have other plans. He moved down your body, soaked cock again in his palm, and his eyes now set on your pussy. You reached for one of the condoms you’d set out next to you, and held it in front of him.

“Hate to sound like an after-school special, but no glove…”

Shouto paused, eyeing you for just a moment before taking the square and making quick work of it, rolling it over himself.

Then, abruptly, he put a hand on your cheek, drawing your eyes back up to his. “Thank you for your hard work. It does not go unappreciated.”

“What the—”

You were left agog at his statement, wholly unprepared as he swiftly took each of your thighs in one hand, spread them, and plunged in you to the hilt. You gasped high in your chest, your throat still tender from being rawed by Shouto’s dick. He leaned over you, sighing with a relief that doubled then halved the size of his chest. His forehead touched yours in a strange moment of intimacy, and, for a moment, you wondered if that was it. Was that all the release condition took? Penetration? Or had he cum and you just hadn’t noticed?

Were you going to be left to tend to yourself with the bullet vibrator in your glove compartment yet again?

Then Shouto leaned back, looked at you again with those sharp eyes, and began smacking into you with abandon.

“Fuck,” you let out as Shouto’s balls, still wet with your spit, left their mark on your ass with every deep thrust he gave you.

Shouto manhandled your thighs, grabbing them firmly in each hand as he reared back fully on his knees again, taking the lower half of your body with him. You reflexively braced with your arms, and soon they were the only part of you still in contact with the bed, along with your upper back and head still resting on the comfortable stack of pillows.

As was often the case, you’d lost control of the situation. You could barely match Shouto’s thrusts on your own as he repeatedly used his upper body strength to bring you to him, and his lower body strength to send his hips right back in return. If you tried to reach him, your fingertips would barely brush his thighs, much less any other part of him. You were totally at his mercy.

You couldn’t help but eyeball his broad biceps, flexed by holding up the weight of most of your body. And aside from the sweat dripping from his forehead—probably quirk-induced—he was showing little to no strain.

He hadn’t always had muscles like this, you were sure. You couldn’t help but remember pundits sounding off on Shouto’s overreliance on his quirk over physical strength, or the difference between his body and the massive tank that was his father, Endeavor. They’d shown clips of his body—handsome, always handsome—but either Shouto had done a lot of bulking in the last few years or those newscasters had been particularly unkind. Likely both. Because now, drops of sweat were trickling from his body in rivulets; there were no straight paths to go down. A bulging muscle here to dip around, the crease from a flexed ab there to pool in. You were hypnotized by his form, even the thighs straining under the part of his uniform that he hadn’t bothered to burn off.

Your mind was so enraptured by thoughts of Shouto’s body that the sensations happening to yours crept up on you. All at once, you realized that your thighs were burning. Actually, one was burning, and the other was freezing cold, both just under his palms and branching up the fingers currently painting five bruises into each muscle.

A gasp flew out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back as your thighs suddenly began quaking unbidden. Shouto looked down at you, his expression easy save for those passionate eyes, little huffs escaping his slack jaw. “Too much?” he asked.

Your head shook side to side, a vehement no as Shouto dug his fingers even deeper into your flesh, bringing dull throbs of pain so close to where every thrust brought about sharp flashes of pleasure. It felt like a betrayal when he just then loosened his grip to slide his hands up to your knees and hook them over his shoulder. Then those hands, right at the brink of freezing and searing pressed into the meat of your ass as he brought your hips to his with redoubled force.

That first new thrust sent Shouto’s head turning to the side, digging a painful bite into the fleshy part of your calf, making you cry out. A moment later, he let go, his tongue passing over the teeth marks like a salve over a wound.

All the dueling sensations had you close. You’d been teasing yourself for so long before Shouto had even shown up and now he was fucking into you like…well, like his life depended on it.

God, was it wrong to love fuck or die quirks?

You were quick to take a hand and put it back on your aching clit, despite the strain it put on your neck and upper back to lose one arm of support. Part of a good fucking was being folded like a pretzel, and you’d just book a massage appointment tomorrow to deal with it. Surely saving the life of the number three hero was worth a reward.

Shouto’s eyes honed in on your fingers moving rapidly over your clit, and you bet he could feel the twitches of your cunt approaching climax. A hand left your ass and went behind his head to pat your ankles. “Cross them,” he instructed.

Obediently, you crossed your ankles, making your position a bit sturdier as Shouto continued to drive you back onto him with one hand. Then that second hand went to yours, brushing it away with the backs of his knuckles. A surprisingly gentle gesture for the man who was kneading bruises into your ass and biting your leg. Then, with his thumb, he painted one slow, hard, blazing stripe up your clit, and you came instantly.

“Fuck!” you shouted as your back arched in midair, the crown of your head digging into the pillows as your neatly crossed ankles came undone, your thighs shaking and falling from Shouto’s grip. His cock slid out of you as your lower half bounced once on the bed. Before the springs could vault you back, Shouto was on top of you, pressing himself back in your still convulsing cunt.

His thrusts were long, desperate as he breathed into your neck. He mouthed the base of your neck with light bites and suckles—never quite kissing. Your thighs came back up around his hips and his left hand went back to squeezing your thigh. Meanwhile, the right came between your thighs, surprising you as two fingers began prodding at your entrance.

Almost immediately, you could feel the heat of the stretch. Or rather, you would have felt the heat of the stretch, had his fingers not been ice cold against you. You cried out as he curled his fingers forward while his cock kept thrusting straight through you, the hot and cold contrast nearly too much. You wondered how much more intense it would feel if Shouto were unbound by the condom, and you able to bear its full heat.

“Please,” you whimpered as your orgasm began to rise again, too quickly, nearly as sudden as the first one had been, but without all the build up. This one felt like it was going to tear out of you.

Just then, the nips that Shouto had been teasing over your neck went away, and he planted one more good bite on your shoulder as his thrusts became insistent, the fingers petting inside you matched with a cold thumb over your clit. And neither of you could hold on a moment longer.

Shouto groaned low and bone deep in your ear while your voice, still raspy from early, keened in his. Your thighs went tight around his waist and his hand was trapped between you as you both rode out your highs. It took a full minute for your muscles to unwind, and your feet to fall flat to the bed. At that point, Shouto pulled out and rolled over next to you, both of you panting as the sweat dried on your skin.

Shouto pulled the condom off of himself and found a trashcan to toss it into before falling flat on his back again. After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he opened his mouth. “Thank you for your professionalism.”

You snorted. “You’re welcome,” you managed, keeping your laughter at bay. “That’s not what people usually thank me for.”

“Thank you for saving my life?” Shouto tried again, his gaze shifting over to you.

His eyes were still bright, but his gaze less sharp, obscured by dual-colored bangs falling over it. Suddenly, Shouto looked a great deal more innocent than the man who’d been fucking the life out of you just minutes ago. Perhaps an effect of the quirk wearing off, perhaps the effect of unfettered pleasure meeting relief.

“More common, yes,” you replied, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“You’re very good at what you do,” Shouto said, his eyes going to the spot where he’d bitten your shoulder. He circled it with one finger, brows furrowing. “You’re like a hero.”

“Hah,” you returned, looking up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to let this be the moment in your career that made you blush. “Vixen, the orgasm hero. I don’t think it would meet the commission’s guidelines.”

“Perhaps not,” Shouto said, sitting up and pulling up what remained of his costume, frowning at the spot where he’d torn it. You supposed you needn’t have worried about this costume going to the cleaners; the support team would likely toss it and make a replacement.

“There are clothes you can change into in the closet,” you said, pointing to the near invisible door in the back wall.

Shouto waved you away as he stood up. “This will be fine to make it to the locker room with.”

“Suit yourself,” you said as you pushed yourself up, trying to remember where you’d thrown your leggings before you’d started jerking of, grunting as your spine cracked.

Shouto plucked the leggings from near the foot of the bed and tossed them to you before heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and made eye contact with you one last time, the ghost of a smile you’d never seen before on his lips. “Thanks again…Vixen.”

As he closed the door, you could only blame your own impropriety, that utter lack of virtue that you first thought was:

Number two pro hero, Shouto: check.

#todoroki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #shouto todoroki smut #shoto todoroki smut #tw: sex work #tw: sex pollen #tw: masochism #tw: pain play #tw: dubcon #tw: biting #tw: temperature play

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