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dungeonpuppykai · 2 years

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|| Taming Her ||

Description: Where does a disgraced Princess end up in order for the royal family to save whatever dignity they have left? In a 'respectful' marriage with the greatest Grand General the royal army's ever known, of course.

Pairing: Dark Husband!Ben Hardy | Brat Wife!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Ben Hardy. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con (just to be safe), patriarchy, Dom!Ben, Sub!Reader, arranged!marriage dark!Ben, manhandling, historical!au, power imbalance, humiliation, degradation, age gap (Ben is early 30's and reader is early 20's), spanking, brat taming, slight breeding kink, hair pulling, groping, use of chastity belt, blow job, face fucking, fingering, deflowering, p in v, slight objectification, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, gagging, creampie.

Note: English is not my first language. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

"Small…" Were the first words to leave Princess Y/n's mouth as she was helped off her carriage, acting as if she wasn't the one at disadvantage here, pushing the veil supposed to be covering her face away that usually the husbands removed once as she examined her new home that was the Grand General's estate in disgust. "Pathetic." Unaware of what was to come once inside, she continued to arrogantly grumble in a condescending manner, her disdain obvious.

"Well," Ben, her husband, guardian and protector from this day forth, just smiled and snorted under his breath. This wasn't anything the man wasn't already used to. He had seen her grow up from a naughty child to a misbehaving adult. Working for her father directly as his most trusted General half his life now, he knew her through and through. "Now that you're here, you'll surely transform it all, won't you, dear?" Even though the fabric supposed to cover her face was pushed to that side on which Ben stood, he could very easily imagine her rolling her eyes at his words.

"You can only wish, peasant." The elbow he held out for her to take was left ignored as she gripped her wedding dress in bunches between her fists, stomping her way to the entrance before walking inside and starting to examine and toss things aside with the tips of her fingers, dusting them on her dress every once in a while to express her disgust in silence. As if they were dirty.

The male entered behind her and closed the doors to the estate for the day, lowering her luggage that he was holding next to the pile that the royal servants had made next to the door before joining the little brat that was his wife now, his eyes travelling down to her ass that the dress did nothing for.

Ben bit his lip as he took his time with just admiring the sight of Y/n walking through his- their house. Truth was, he had always adored her cute face and disobedient ways. If cute little girls such as herself didn't deserve to be spoiled then he didn't know who else did. Because then husbands such as himself could tame them and mould them into being whatever they desired. He couldn't sugar coat it if he tried, nothing compared to taming pathetic brats into becoming compliant little trophy wives. Reducing them down to nothing before building them back up however her man desired.

The Grand General wasn't a man of an overinflated ego or false pride. He embraced his truths and wore his identity proudly. Instead of trying to be what he was not, he rather revelled in all he could be, good and bad, with what he already was.

And in this case, he would be Y/n's dirty military man, as she liked to call him using her former standing in the kingdom. Holding her neat and supple body next to his hard and scarred one, feeling the tenderness her spotless skin would surely provide, drinking the sweet elixir of her body and adjusting it all based on his own preferences and tastes. Bending her however and wherever he desired, condition her to his commands, teach her discipline, give her appropriate training and of course, punish her whenever she'd stumble from the path he'd carve for her.

The reminder that even though he had taken mercy on her and her family's reputation and taken her hand in marriage when she'd been the one accused of committing adultery and running away, -which only God knew led her to whatever disgraceful circumstances before they brought her back home- she acted like she had done him a favour by accepting him.

It filled Ben's body with an icy excitement of the sick sort.

There would be nothing more beautiful than her broken form trembling underneath him, completely at his mercy, as he would be the sole decider of her fate; her ultimate destiny. Her God. The only law she will ever know from this day forward. Worshipping him for everything and anything, loving him and respecting him on her knees in absence of any sort of covers between them. Shying away from his hold when swell and heavy with his child, waddling as she'd surely whine about how uncomfortable it was yet thanking him and accepting it with gratefulness when he'd be plant another seed inside her soon after.

"Look at yourself pretending as if I couldn't have easily let your family give you off to some elderly nobleman as his personal little harlot instead of giving you my name, dear…" Y/n almost jumped out of her skin when she heard her husband's voice right in her ear from behind as she was standing next to the fireplace, Ben's rough fingertips finding her forearms although in a gentle manner as he caressed the soft skin, sighing in contentment at the unfamiliar feeling.

Y/n grumbled as she recovered from the shock. He'd been so silent in approaching her that she hadn't heard or felt anything. "W- What are you doing?!" Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt her back touch his hard chest that his uniform did nothing to create an illusion of softness for. "Ugh- stop it commoner or you'll get your dirt and sweat on me!" A thread of ice trailed down the length of her spine upon the realization of just how strong he really was when she couldn't pry herself free from his hold. And so far he was only holding her by the arms with the use of his fingers.

"Or you could let me take care of you and colour you brown and dirty with me, doll" he said that only to spite her as he was uncharacteristically clean today, having done no field work since he had taken a leave for his special day. A chuckle escaped him when she grumbled and tried to break free harder this time, huffing and mumbling surely profanities. "What, you don't like that idea?" His lips had found her ear again, nose taking long whiffs of her scent as they traced the shell of her ear, causing goosebumps all over her skin.

"S- Stop it, you're so…" She tried again, this time no different than the last, feeling herself sink further and further in the heat of his body. "So…"

He'd noticed the stutter in her words. Perfect. She was getting right where he wanted her. "You do know that you have to respect me from now on or there are going to be consequences, right? Remember? In sickness and in health, loving and obeying me always?" One of his hands snaked from her arm to her waist, his rough palm feeling the tenderness underneath over the dress. Another heavy chuckle rumbled in his chest when she squeaked in disdain at his words.

"Who actually ever follows some silly v- vows!" Gulping quickly to maintain the stability in her voice when his other hand palmed her breast, Y/n continued as she struggled to twist free from his hold. "Promises and r- rules are meant to be broken- hmmn~" the sound she made was completely unintentional, a product of him circling her now hard nipple before pinching it. She was starting to feel violated.

"Not in this house, they're not." Even though his voice was soft, a firmness coated his words as his lips peppered kisses down her unmarked skin. "We have rules in this house, upon the violation of which are consequences." His hand that was previously placed on her abdomen now slipped under the layers of her gowns, fingers brushing against her chastity belt, the action tearing a gasp out of her.

"I- I… am a P- Princess! And I d- decree you release me right n- now, you vile savage!" Y/n did her best to ignore the goosebumps and curls that formed in the base of her stomach when he traced the skin around the chastity that wasn't covered, fighting hard for her dignity.

Ben only laughed in response to her words, flipping her around before pushing her against the wall beside the fireplace so fast the girl could barely comprehend it. "Oh, did you not hear, love?" His hands met underneath her dress upon her ass cheeks now, groping and spreading the cheeks not for her but for his pleasure alone. The man was determined to memorize and explore every patch of skin on his wife's body.

"H- Hear what?" Her eyes gleamed with the thin covering of tears over them. She wasn't sure anymore if they were only those of humiliation and shame. Y/n feared that they were also perhaps in longing and desire for something… else.

The reason why she was in a chastity belt in the first place was because a few years ago the girl had been caught by her head maid, bent over her bath with a hand between her legs as she desperately tried to explore the feeling and whatever else laid at the end of the shivers and tingles she'd feel whenever something would brush against her sex. But before she could ever unravel that mystery, the Queen had been summoned and after a thorough spanking she'd been put in a chastity that her head maid had carried until this day, handing it to her husband before he brought her home with him.

"You were stripped of your title, my dear." The smugness was dripping off his smirk as he brought his hands to the top side of the dress again, grabbing a hold of the fabric. "Now you're nothing more than the Grand General's wife. Tch, you're so silly. Nobody wants a disgrace for a child" a loud yelp escaped Y/n when he suddenly tore the dress in half from the middle, causing her arms to fly to her chest in defense. "No, no, no" clicking his tongue while shaking his head, Ben tore the rest of the dress off her body before forcefully pulling it off her. "Now you know better than to do that, darling."

"Please…" Y/n gulped as her husband raised an eyebrow at how she sounded. "No, I mean, I mean, please!" She pleaded, shaking her head in denial towards the fact that she'd moaned the word at first, supplying him a mantra of no when he chuckled knowingly.

"It's okay, love. I am your husband, after all. Who will take care of you if not me" he could tell she was conflicted now, torn between stubbornness and desire, the girl struggled to decide what she really wanted. "You just have to get on your knees and submit to my authority. And then it'll be everything you've ever wanted" his eyes travelled down to her covered core that he held the keys to. "And more."

Her flushed face redenned at his words. "Y- You know about that?" If she wasn't so bare and… vulnerable right now, the former Princess would have had a complete opposite reaction to everything she had been subjected to in the last ten minutes. But he was making her feel so small and warm, utterly powerless in his mercy and unguarded in his wrath would she invite it.

Not to mention the familiar sensation between her legs that he had awakened even in the presence of the damned belt somehow. That she had not been able to even after all the years of trying.

"Walls in the castle have ears, love." Ben stole another gasp from her when his fingers curled around her elbows that were covering her chest, pushing them up and above her head to grant himself a view of her perfect breasts, pointing towards him as if daring him to attend to them, nipples alarmed and hard for his touch.

"Just think about it, hm? Nobody cares for you anyways. They never did. You were nothing but the unplanned problem child that they always wanted to get rid of." He could not deny that he did feel somewhat unpleasant saying such words to the only girl he had ever had eyes for. But the greater good had always outweighed the other factors for him. It was the sole reason for his success as a respectable man of his society today. "But me, I can give you everything you have truly desired and longed for" a shaky sigh tumbled past her lips as one of her feet kicked against the ground in response to the feeling of his warm lips encasing one of her sensitive nubs between them.

"G- Grand General!" He could not help but smirk against her skin as his tongue ran around and caressed the treat that he was sucking on. This was the first time she had ever referred to him by his title and not some insult.

Everything was falling into place. That was the only way, after all. It was a plan perfectly executed. Formed and performed solely by him, there was no way it could not work.

Making her surrender was nothing compared to the careful plot he'd put forward and set into action in order to have her, a girl he could never have had otherwise unless in an undignified way. Rising the proper suspicions, inciting the calculated rumours, feeding into the whispers and accusations against the actually innocent Princess from a distance, he watched patiently in all his glory as victory approached him like its title depended on him, like he decided it's fate.

He had once warned her that her disrespectful and arrogant ways would be her demise. She had brushed it off and shot him a petty insult in response. And look where it had gotten her. Misunderstood for being what she was not simply because she didn't feign nobility that was really just a system of generational hypocrisy.

Ben loved that about her. And that was exactly why only he deserved her. He just had to have her. There could never be another way. Nobody could ever hope to understand this beautiful and ferocious flame of the best and the worst like he could.

She could only ever belong with someone like him. And him alone.

Yes. It was wretched but it was also divine. It was the greater good that easily dominated the minor factors involved in achieving his most prized possession.

Y/n was a writhing mess by the time he latched his tongue onto her other breast, sucking and gently biting the skin as he firmly held both her arms in one of his hands above her head. "Please~ please! Ben-"

Letting go with a plop, the male clicked his tongue and raised his head to level their gazes, shushing her with a hot kiss before punishing her with a stern bite to her bottom lip, pulling a loud whine out of the bride. "Now, who allowed you to call me that, my love?" When her lust clouded head tilted to the side in confusion, the corners of his lips curled into a smirk. "It is Sir or Master for when you submit to me or when I want to use you, and husband for other times." As she gulped down bile, he brought his face so close to hers that their noses touched. "Which brings us right back to the first question; do you submit to me as my faithful wife to use and please whenever I desire?" While forcefully snatching and ripping something apart was fun, there was nothing more satisfying than breaking someone into submitting to what was inevitable. In this case that being him.

"W- Will you take this hideous thing off and make me feel… feel…" She didn't exactly know how it felt. "... However it feels…" Hanging her head low sheepishly, she bit her lip as her cheeks burnt in humiliation. Y/n felt exposed and vulnerable, wet in both arousal and with his spit.

"Why yes of course, dear." Enveloping the girl's lips in his, Ben took his time savoring the soft cushions of flesh and skin before letting go with quick chaste pecks. "All you need to do is accept your place and leave the rest to me. I will make it worth my best girl's while."

"Only girl, you mean" she quietly whimpered back, uncharacteristically submissive and meek as she dared to look up at him, whimpering when he deeply chuckled.

"Of course, my love." Letting go of her arms, Ben stood back to his height, easily towering over her not only through the inches but also due to how built he was, strong shoulders wide and body exuding a strong dominant aura foreign to and in contrast to that of the girl.

Y/n sighed and bit her lip, taking in one last breath before succumbing to the dull ache between her legs, desperate and helpless against her physical curiosities. And to be fair, he wasn't entirely wrong. She had always felt out of place. It was the primary reason she struggled to find herself a peaceful sanctuary, always at an edge, never relating to those around her and having trouble with expressing who she really was, careful and cautious of her covers and walls, afraid of coming off vulnerable.

Maybe this is where she would find it all. Under her husband and on her knees. After all the years of feeling like an outcast, maybe here, she could finally belong. Let go of the protective cuccoon of defiance, finally allowing herself to be vulnerable and not being met with disappointment because she did.

Or, this could all just be her desire toying with her rationality.

There was only one way to find out.

What else did she have to lose, really?

"Okay." Y/n finally spoke after what felt like an eternity, blinking as she came back to the present moment, looking Ben right in the eyes as he intently awaited the inevitable with crossed arms, taking in the sight of the girl's exposed body while completely clothed himself. Leaning forward, she pressed a timid kiss to his lips before going to lower herself on her knees only to wince when one of the man's hands suddenly found a bunch of her hair before curling the strands in a fist. "Ouch! Wha-"

"Ask for permission first next time" his commanding voice was stern, but definitely not as harsh as it could go. "Tsk, you might just need more discipline than I anticipated" tears welled up in her eyes from how rough his grip was.

"I- I am sorry, sir… I- I did not know" her voice broke towards the end, one shaky hand placing over his as it silently begged for mercy, the former Princess' body not used to anything harsher than a spanking but that too in the event of going beyond the line. "Please, sorry" Y/n sniffed as she blinked away the moisture in her eyes.

"You better be." Loosening his grip, Ben closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. "One should know their place to avoid a life of existential conflict" he repeated the words she would often tell him, causing her to flush. "And as much as I adore you, my sweet pea, yours is below mine." Hooking a finger under her chin, he raised her lowered head to be able to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Do you understand? Say yes sir."

"Y- Yes, sir." Y/n obeyed, sinking to the floor on her knees the moment the military hummed in satisfaction and let go of her.

"Now, what do we say?"

The girl gulped, hoping to get it right as she gripped her knees. "I- I accept my place as your… o- obedient wife, sir."

Although it was not what he fully wanted, this was tremendous progress and Ben decided to keep it as such, knowing he had all their lives to correct and improve her response to his liking. "See?" One of his heavy hands patted the top of her head. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" The girl shook her head as she peeked up at his form through her lashes.

"N- No, sir."

The male hummed in response, grabbing another fistful of her hair but much softer this time, turning towards the living room sofa before starting to drag her behind him. "Don't stand up" he warned when she went to get back up on her feet. "Good wives crawl for their husbands like worthy pets." Making sure the pull on her hair wasn't too hard, Ben looked back at her to admire the sight of her walking on all fours behind him, head slightly tilted towards him due to how he was holding her hair.

Could any other man ever make her look this perfect?

No.

She was beautiful in her submission, awaiting whatever he had planned for her, patiently kneeling before him when he sat down on the sofa and beckoned her closer.

"Between my legs, dear. You're doing so good." Ben decided to praise her, smiling when she bit her lip and blushed before lowering her head. "Now I know you're needy and it must be difficult for you, but before I open that belt, I need to make sure you deserve me. Will you be a doll and prove that you are worthy, hm?" Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers toyed with the strands of her hair.

"I- I will try my best, Master."

"Good girl" the bride found herself liking the praise that she'd despised all her life. Maybe, she figured, it was due to who was saying it that she finally liked it. "Now, I need you to fuck your face on my cock, can you do that?" There was something about sweetly luring her into his web that force or roughness would drastically lack.

"H- Huh?" That earned her another one of his deep chuckles as he leaned forward and held her face in both his hands, tenderly stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to her forehead. He couldn't afford to break his trophy on its very first day now, could he?

"Of course I'll instruct you, my sweet girl." Pressing a series of feather light kisses to her face, he continued. "Because I would have been really fucking disappointed, had you known what I meant."

"S- So I did good?" Y/n was thankful that he was not actually the beast she had always thought him to be.

Or, was he?

"We will see" he leaned back against the rest of the sofa before getting comfortable and increasing his manspread. "Come here and undo my pants" although a bit embarrassed by his demand, the girl convinced herself that it was okay and this was in the privacy of the estate and between two spouses, biting one of her lips and doing as she was told. "Just like that" his fingers disappeared between her locks as he gently scratched her scalp in an encouraging manner. "Now pull them open and show me some love, baby."

Y/n was uncertain as she fumbled with the rough clothing of his army attire, fingers shakily pulling the opening of the pants apart to reveal his clothed cock as she shot him a quick peek, the sight of his dark eyes watching her igniting a flame between her hips. He was watching her. Tilting her head to the side, the girl tried to decide how she was going to show her love to him.

"Go ahead, touch it." Ben encouraged, a bit breathless as he played with her hair. This sight alone could make him cum. "It doesn't do harm… unless I want it to" a grin made it's way on his features when she gasped under her breath and blushed at his vulgar words. "And if you show it a good time, I'll make sure it won't. How's that for a deal?" Avoiding the man's eyes, the girl nodded and touched his clothed member with one timid hand, almost pulling back when he released a sharp sigh along a praise.

Pushing all sense of dignity to the side, she finally came to a decision of how she was going to show it love and… a good time. Leaning forwards and feeling her breasts go into a hanging position, Y/n pressed a soft kiss to Ben's hard and restrained cock, unsure but hopeful.

"Fuck…" His responsive curse came quick. "Just like that. Keep going." Sighing in relief, the former Princess tried her best to touch and stroke it the best she could, kissing and tracing the shape with the tip of her nose as well as fingers. "Good, good girl. Take it out, don't be shy. It is only your husband's" ignoring the heat that the shame and embarrassment lit up inside her, the girl peeled the cover off his cock obediently, gasping when it sprang out before gulping at the sight of its girth as well as length.

"Pretty" the word betrayed her mouth before the could register it, gasping and covering her mouth as her widened eyes shot up to his face while hurriedly shaking her head. "N- No! I- I mean-"

"It's alright. I am glad you feel that way, darling." He couldn't help but feel his chest swell with pride. She was too good. "Because you are going to be seeing and taking a whole lot of it." Even though he wanted to savour this moment where the former brat worshipped and praised his cock, his testicles were growing impatient by the passing second. "Why don't you take it in your mouth and appreciate it's beauty then, hm?"

"T- Take it in my mouth, Master?!" The virgin was baffled at his words.

Ben raised an eyebrow as the grip he had on her scalp stiffened just a little. "Worthy wives take it wherever their husbands desire, little one." A wince tumbled past her lips at the burning sensation in her scalp and she succumbed to his authority without much fight, lowering her head and reaching for his cock. "Now, that's a perfect girl right there" caressing the hair at the back of her head, the male once again resumed his relaxed position.

Unable to contain herself, Y/n pressed a few more kisses to the length before reaching the tip, her inexperienced fingertips tracing the base and lips latching an open mouth kiss to the leaking opening on the top of the package, mouth scrunching just a little at the taste of his precum but not stopping there as her own knees were starting to shake both from being in an unfamiliar position for so long now and because the ache between her legs was now turning into a pulsating sensation.

"Fuck, you feel so good, doll." Ben's fingers curled against her hair unintentionally as Y/n finally let his cock violate the previously virgin entrance of the warm cavern of her mouth, tongue innocently moving to make way for his length but unknowingly providing him sweet stimulation. "Fuck, Y/n-" the man had to tilt his head back as he felt his back arch, hand impatiently pushing her face down a few inches only for his toes to curl when she gagged and choked in response to the tip coming in contact with the back of her throat, the flesh and moist walls tight and hot against his length, the coughing causing vibrations all the way down to his balls.

"Shit, you're so good for me, baby" allowing her to breathe once he realised that he had restricted her air flow by pressing her face all the way down to his balls, Ben mumbled praises to keep her motivated. "Keep going, you will earn yourself many rewards if you continue this course, sweetling." Simply the fact alone that today it wasn't just some whore he had to pay and pretend that it was Y/n -which he had been doing since the day he had first noticed her blossming breasts and sharpening figure as well as features which signalled maturity, ultimately igniting in him a desire unknown to him prior that instance- and it was indeed the actual girl in flesh sucking his cock obediently as her nostrils flared to inhale as much air as possible, Ben knew he was going to climax harder than ever.

Fumbling in his blazer pocket for the key of her chastity belt, the military pulled it out right before pushing her face down all the way to his balls and raising his hips off the cushion to fuck his approaching high down her slippery throat which he planned to open up and improve in the near future.

Y/n shakily held on to his knees for support as she loudly gagged, the air leaving her lungs as she felt her mouth getting stuffed full of his cock and balls with each thrust before he'd pull almost all the way out only to intrude the same way all over again before entering her throat one last time and fucking the cavity in short and rough thrusts, pulling her face up and down by her hair to aid his pleasure before releasing half his seed down her throat and the other half all over her pretty face while jerking it out of himself.

"Heavens, you look so beautiful, doll" Ben panted as he placed himself back down, letting go of his cock as he recovered from the best fuck of his life as of today. "Can any other man make you look so pretty?"

"N- No, sir" the girl struggled to respond as she gasped for air, the tight knots in her stomach a burning mess now as she felt something trickle down the urinal point of her belt.

"That is right. They can't. No one can except for I." Picking up the key now, he smirked. "And tell me this now, can you ever hope to be above me when you're kneeling in front of me like a personal fuck slave, face dripping of and mouth painted with my seed as you cannot even control your own pleasure, waiting for me to let you open and decide if you deserve anything at all, or not?" The smug smirk was back on his devilishly handsome face. "I still cannot understand why you ever thought yourself above anyone when you're so obviously nothing but a pathetic little girl meant to serve." Tears of humiliation welled up in her eyes as the girl realised her position, his taunts burning hot against her cheeks as she stared in her lap.

"T- Thank you for re- reminding me of my p- place, sir" Ben was a bit taken aback by her words, not expecting such a level of submission just yet. But perhaps she was more fragile than he had expected.

"But," not wanting to break her as she was still his dearest babe, the man cupped both her cheeks and tilted her head up to look into her pretty eyes. "This side and place of yours is limited only to me between the walls of this estate because I am your keeper and this is our house, yes? Anyone else hoping to disrespect my love will have to go through the perdition that is I" his words were determined and firm as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips, causing a smile to form on the bride's face as she lunged forward against rational thought, snaking her arms around his iron hard shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck as a muffled sob left her worked up and sensitive body.

Inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, Ben kissed the side of her head as he let her hold him, caressing the small of her back with one hand as the other silently undid the lock of her chastity belt, pressing soft kisses to her bare shoulder as he lowered the metal casing and frowned at the dents it had caused on her skin, briefly tracing one of them before letting his fingers find her core.

Y/n's back arched in response as her body jolted up and tried to back away from his body but Ben only held her tighter against him with one hand, the other toying with her dripping petals and flesh. Her breaths became quickened and heavy as she dug her nails into the hard skin of his shoulders, whimpering and mewling against the skin of his neck.

"You're dripping just from sucking my cock" the man whispered against the shell of her ear as he chuckled and placed a smack against one of her ass cheeks. "A pleaser, are we? Tsk, naughty little girl."

The girl jumped from the spank, whimpering before letting out a tiny moan right underneath his ear. "O- Only for you, sir… T- Thank you, sir… F- Feels so… ah~" her toes curled in defense when one of his fingers intruded the privacy of her sex, feeling the ridiculously tight ring of muscles before moving up to it's total length as his thumb caressed her nub.

"See where being good gets you?" Ben praised as he proceeded to finger fuck her tight entrance, free hand feeling her breasts. "Isn't this so much better than all that foolishness you like to indulge in?" Another slap resounded against one of her cheeks and the girl yelped loudly in response, her sweaty arms sliding off his smooth uniform blazer and elbows landing against his laps just in time to refrain herself from landing face first on his manhood.

"Thank you, sir. You're right. Thank you so much, sir!" Y/n cried from the pleasure, not knowing why Ben kept spanking her as his fingers scissored her virgin walls open to be able to accommodate his cock without the entrance ripping into becoming a mess, but the harsh stings forming due to the slaps sent jolts of pleasure and shivers down her abdomen and straight to her core. "This is so good, Master! You're so good! Thank you! Thank you!" Her hot tears fell in the form of thick droplets right on the male's sensitive cock and he winced, grabbing a bunch of the bride's hair with the hand that wasn't stretching her supple velvet walls and pushing her back against the small coffee table that was placed adjacent to the sofa.

"Fuck" he couldn't help but curse at the sight of her stretched open pussy clinging to his wet fingers as her breasts laid on her chest like sweet peaches awaiting to be devoured, face red and covered in cum with a continuous supply of tears cascading down her tender cheeks, elbows and knees violently shaking as they did their best to lean against the surface behind her for support. "You look so fuckable, dear."

Y/n's whole body spasmed at his filthy words. "Please, please, please, sir!" She had a rough idea of what she was begging for, but yet not familiar or trained enough to be able to word it. "Please! I'll be so good for you! So, so good! Please!"

"Well, that is the only way for you, my precious" Ben husked, painfully hard again. Who wouldn't be? It was a breath taking sight. Perfectly obscene and beautifully vulgar. "Fuck. I need to enjoy you and it's impossible here" effortlessly lifting the bottom half of her body up and off the ground and directly onto his erection like her soft walls were nothing but a mere sleeve meant to accommodate his cock and it alone, his tip easily found her sensitive bundle of nerves due to the position and his length, of course.

"Isn't this an alluring fucking sight?" Ben grunted, voice deep and skin shiny with a sheen of sweat covering it, a droplet falling off the side of his eyebrow as he hurried to the master bedroom with his cock stuffed wife sobbing against him, her walls spasming against the girth of his cock as her trembling legs dangled at her sides. "Look at your pretty little cunt seeming as if it is about to tear" placing her back against the mattress, Ben impatiently gave her a thrust as he kicked his shoes off and climbed into the bed, crotch attached to hers.

Maybe he would sleep like that tonight. Buried deep inside the tender and warm cavity.

"H- Hurts but feels so good, s- sir" Y/n whispered out in a sob, looking down at her husband as he groped and pinched her breasts, greedily kissing and sucking at the skin before moving up to her neck, his hips never slowing down as he gave her deep and rough thrusts, one of his hands playing with the folds of her clit.

Ben busied himself with colouring her soft skin purple and blue with his mouth, the hand that wasn't playing with her folds trailing up the length of her arm when he felt her tighten against his cock, fingers finding hers as he intertwined them, giving her brutal thrusts as she cried out and threw her head back, back arching as her toes curled and vision went black, ears going numb as jolts of pleasure reverberated throughout her trembling body in response to his hard length abusing her special spot whilst stimulating her labia.

"T- Thank… sir… I… God…" Y/n cried through her euphoria, at a loss of both coherent words and thoughts, body going still as she stared up at the ceiling aimlessly, blinking away the multi coloured stars forming in her vision, numb pussy defensively milking the male's cock in response to the overstimulation as he was still fucking her almost lifeless body just as relentlessly to chase his own orgasm.

"Now you know how that feels" still holding her hand just as tightly, Ben propped himself up on one elbow to get a look at her fucked out expression, his cock twitching at the beautiful sight of the distant look on her red face. "And next time when it approaches, you are to ask my permission to succumb to it first, else unpleasant consequences will follow." With another rough series of curses, he emptied his load in her and painted the walls around them white.

"Isn't that pretty?" Pulling himself out sooner than he wanted to, Ben panted as he pumped himself to fully enjoy his high, treating himself with the sight of her no longer virgin entrance oozing of his cum for the sacrifice he'd made of not fucking his high up her womb as the girl panted under him, thoroughly spread as well as fucked.

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maopll · 4 months

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imagine spoiler btw

If you tame Cerberus, you gain the title of the "Ruler of Underworld" right? Since MC is from a different timeline, what if upon an encounter with the fearsome beast, Cerberus is more calm and quite and not even that hostile towards MC since they still have that faint scent lingering on them that no one can feel but Carberus so....

It's odd, and very unusual. Cerberus is known as the most hostile creature that lives in the Devildom. Cerberus is so violent that its ferociousness has taken the form of a rumor. So were the rumors false? or was it your presence that changed the whole trajectory of the rumors. The brothers got into positions incase you were harmed since Cerberus was no talk. He circled around you a few times and leaped on you. With joy. The spectators were alerted yet they were frozen with shock by the scenes that were unfolding infront of them. Should they feel scared of Cerberus' presence or should they question the way he licked you with familiarity and happiness as if it was a little puppy.

Aside from you, no one knows, not even the Lucifer from the timeline from where you have come. You used to feed Cerberus meat jerky from time to time since it seemed lonely having to guard the underground tomb.

Cerberus smelled that you were no harm and you had that scent of love and care emiting from you so he licked your face and tackled you with joy and playfulness. "Oh my Cerbie! th—that tickles, oh!" you scratched his chin and petted him aggressively since that's how he likes it.

"Barbatos...is this...supposed to happen?" Lucifer asks quite clulessly to an equally clueless Barbatos who watches you behave with Cerberus as if you've known him for many, many years.

Meanwhile, the other 6 brothers watch you with jawdropped. "Hahah! now this isn't something you get to see everyday!" "Diavolo shouldn't you be concerned?" Solomon asks sweating profusely.

Looks like you earned yourself a new found fame and an easy access to be able to rule beside Diavolo as his significant other. Its a win-win !

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btsugarush · 11 months

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RAP SH!T | myg [teaser]

summary: when your boyfriend yoongi starts to get recognition as an underground rapper he gets a little fame hungry, and cheats on you, putting an end to your 6 year relationship. 2 years later your friends beg you to attend a show in los angeles, and guess who's the opening headliner?

pairings: ex boyfriend!rapper!yoongi x f!reader.

warnings: lovers to exes, exes to lovers, smut, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap that sh!t up), oral (f receiving), soft dom!yoongi, jealous!yoongi, drugs, alcohol, strong language, infidelity, fluff, mini series, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 498

“I thought that was you,” a familiar voice speaks over your shoulder, causing your heart to skip a beat. You turn around, coming face to face with none other than Yoongi himself– or should you say ‘Agust D’. “You really stand out in a crowd.” The corner of his lips tug into a sly smirk.

“Y-Yoongi…” you stutter, almost too tongue tied to speak coherently. You were hoping to not have an encounter with him. Wasn’t finding out that he was performing at the club an ambush to your heart enough? Now here he was trying to converse with you after two years.

You finally find your voice, mustering up something other than his name. “Hey… it’s been a while.” You smile slightly. The bartender hands you your Long Island iced tea and you thank him, taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage. “It has,” His tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes never straying from yours; though, the same couldn’t be said for you. “ So, were you fuckin’ with the show?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah! You were great. I’m really happy that your music career took off…” It probably sounded fake, especially since your breakup ended on a bad note, but you truly were happy for Yoongi. He worked hard. He was talented, creative, and simply a musical genius. You always knew that. You just wish it didn’t all get to his head. You could only imagine how much of a player he turned out to be now that his popularity went far beyond live shows at his friend’s basement parties.

“Appreciate that,” he expresses his gratitude. “Would’ve been better if it took off with that special someone though,” These words catch your attention, and you finally hold contact with him, caught off guard by the confession. Your mood had now gone from indifferent to indignant. The look in his eyes is affectionate, soft as he continues on. “Y’know… you’ve been on my mind heavy, y/n. Maybe this is fate–”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You blurt out, cutting the ginger short. “This is the first time I see you in two years since our breakup, and suddenly I’m on your mind? Do I look like one of your groupies?” The look on Yoongi’s face was unreadable, but you can tell that he’s taken aback by the outburst. “I refuse to let you reopen a wound that I stitched up long ago.” You hop down from the bar stool you were sitting on, grabbing your purse from the countertop. You don’t even care about your drink anymore.

“Y/n, wait…” Yoongi tries to plead for you to listen, but you’re not that same girl anymore. You moved on; at least that’s what you wanted him to believe. “The show was fun. Have a great night, Yoong– I mean Agust D.”

You leave him at the bar alone as you go on a hunt for your friends. You don’t even spare him a last glance.

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em-dash-press · 7 months

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How Authors Write Fictional Wars

Some of our favorite novels include wars. They might stretch over a trilogy or build within a single book. Writing one might seem staggering, but it just takes a different planning approach. Use these tips to write a fictional war for your next story and make your readers feel like it really happened.

Foundational Factors to Consider

1. Your Opposing Sides

Wars always have at least two opposing sides. Start there and develop them before deciding if you need a third or fourth side involved. Cover details like:

What does each side want?

What would each side settle for?

What is each side’s worst-case scenario?

What is each side’s hard no? (What wouldn’t they sacrifice or do to win their cause?)

2. Who Supports the Opposing Sides and Why

As a war progresses, each side loses resources. They start running out of money, soldiers, and whatever public support they had when they started the war due to citizens losing their loved ones or sacrificing for the cause.

Your protagonist and antagonist will need to ask for help eventually. Who would support them and why?

There are numerous reasons why someone might pick one side of a war over another. Politics and economics are often the first things leaders consider. The morality behind each side is another factor.

Consider the American Revolution. Many historians believe America would have lost without France sending money, troops, food, and supplies. Why would France support a budding nation over Great Britain? People argue it was because the French:

Wanted to humiliate the British king

Wanted to hurt their British military rival by partnering with America

Wanted to weaken the British kingdom by ending the colonial taxes they benefited from

Wanted to gain power on a global standing by overcoming Great Britain and rising as America’s first ally

These reasons are great examples of what your novel could include. Another country, kingdom, or group could rise in sudden support for your protagonist or antagonist, ultimately throwing chaos into the determined path of war for better or worse.

3. The War’s Terrain

People can break into battle almost anywhere, depending on your fictional world. Your characters could fight:

On land

On sea

In space

In the air

Underground

Online

Some terrain also comes with other considerations. If your war happens on an ocean, will storms and hurricanes affect battles or the ultimate outcome? How will the soldiers and leaders on both sides deal with the weather?

Note these possibilities as you plan your novel. You can add them in as background or crucial plot devices once you have a skeletal structure in place for your story.

Need help remembering everything you’ve imagined? Try making a map and keeping it wherever you write.

4. What Would Make Each Side More or Less Powerful

There’s always something that could give one side an advantage over the other. It’s often in an unexpected way, although you could make the advantage a goal. The bad guys might feel confident in their ability to win, but they have a secret mission to develop a new weapon just to give them a greater advantage.

Other factors to consider would be one side or another doing something like:

Discovering or enacting a magic system

Eliminating a crucial resource their enemy depends on

Removing funding that makes their enemy able to fight by befriending or overcoming their enemy’s financial backers

Changing the positive or negative public perception of the other side’s reason for fighting to change national morale

Doing something that makes one side’s leaders more or less moral (which could change public perception, the soldiers’ vigor, the leadership’s advisory team together, etc.)

6. What Kinds of Conflict You’ll Write

There are two types of basic conflict you’ll likely write when navigating a fictional war. You may not need both if your story is shorter, but adding both makes the plot more realistic.

First, there’s external conflict. You’ll have at least two opposing sides on some kind of battlefield, sneaking around on spy missions, planning surprise attacks, etc.

Secondly, there’s internal conflict. Soldiers might start fighting amongst each other, people in leadership positions could lose trust in each other, citizens might turn on their country’s cause for one reason or another, etc.

7. What Weaponry Your Characters Will Use

The weapons used in your war depend on numerous factors. It will draw from the genre you’re writing, the time period your story takes place, the advancements made in each civilization’s weaponry prior to the war, and any advancements made while the war goes on.

Examples of these could be:

Guns

Swords

Bows

Bombs

Drones

Armed ships

Armed space ships

You should also consider if one side’s weaponry is more likely to change during the course of the war. That’s more plausible if your story or characters change locations where regional cultures use different weapons. Also if the war spans years, people will naturally develop new weaponry during that time.

If you want extra details to daydream about, think about which weapons will become outdated during your story. Some will prove less useful due to complicated usage or cleaning. They also may not work, like if your science fiction characters follow their enemy underwater, but their laser guns require a dry atmosphere to function.

Include Emotional Plot Arcs

Writing always involves some kind of emotional work that results in a plot arc. It keeps the reader engaged by evoking their core feelings. That’s what makes a novel different from a textbook (in a very basic sense).

Work on details like these to find what emotions will be most present and relevant to your story:

Your overall theme

Your characters and what they experience

The action your characters will go through

How the above action will change your characters by affecting their loved ones

What your characters’ goals mean to them emotionally

If your characters’ will undergo things that change their perception of their world, leaders, country, or themselves

You don’t need all of these things to have an emotional plot arc, but they’re relatable human elements that can drive your plot right into your readers’ hearts.

Avoid Some War Story Tropes

Tropes have a bad reputation that I don’t think is entirely deserved. People recognize them as overdone stereotypes, but sometimes they’re useful.

When you’re writing a war, you’re going to have necessary tropes like:

The hero

The unit or squad

The antagonist

What they undergo and who they become is how you make them fresh concepts for your readers.

Some tropes aren’t helpful because they’re what readers expect from every story. If you give them what they expect, your story isn’t as engaging (unless you get the occasional reader who exclusively reads war novels and never tires of overdone tropes).

Keep these in mind as things to avoid, unless you have an ingenious way to make them a brand-new experience:

One soldier dying in another’s arms

A character dying by going out “in a blaze of glory”

Characters using guns in ways that are obviously wrong (i.e., firing more bullets than the gun-type/model holds)

Getting military rank incorrect (if your characters exist in a real-world, already existing military structure)

Injury-proof characters (even your protagonist will eventually encounter some physical harm, whether it’s illness in bad weather or getting shot on a battlefield)

You can check out this great resource to discover more tropes to avoid/consider as you draft your plot outline.

-----

If it feels like writing a war over the course of a book or a series is challenging, you’re not alone. There’s a lot to consider to make it have an engaging flow.

Keep notes on things like these to develop your story as much as possible before starting your first draft. You can always go back and add or edit things out as needed while developing it. Writers do this all the time—you don’t need to get any manuscript perfect on your first try.

#writing war #writing warfare #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing inspiration #writing community #writing help #writing resources #writing action #writing conflict #writing batlles

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xinmin-exe · 3 months

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Attack On Titan characters as Parents

Note: I haven't really watched attack on titan in years, so I'm sure all of these characters are gonna be OOC ALSO i am making it so everyone survived in the end and they all got their happy ending because these babies deserve it

WARNINGS: fem!reader, brief mentions of past trauma, mentions of miscarriage, very brief mention of the birthing process,

Eren

Eren was so traumatized after what his father did, he almost had a break down when you told him you were pregnant. It took him a couple weeks, and many, many late night talks with Armin until he was willing to try to be there for you. Eren was so nervous and worried he was going to be just like his father but the moment he saw his kid, everything just clicked. He was so gentle with them and always made time to talk and play with them during the day. As they got older, their bond grew even closer as Daddy and Aunt Mikasa took them out hunting every couple of weeks. Eren is an amazing father who despite everything he went through, made damn sure to do better for his child.

Armin

Armin never imagined having children, it just wasn't something he saw in his future. that was, until you came into his life and changed everything. When your little bundle of joy was born, Armin was in tears. He couldn't help but admire them and want to give them everything. Since then, Armin has done everything to nurture their ideas and passions. He even took them to the sea and let them play around. He wanted them to grow up with everything he couldn't have (aka, parents) so he did everything he could to stick around. Armin turned down multiple high government positions just to stay close to you and his child. Armin is the parent we all need in our lives.

Mikasa

When you approached Mikasa with the idea of wanting to adopt, she was speechless. Ever since her parents were killed, she never thought about having children. However, she loved you so much that she wanted to at least try. After all, she wasn't exactly motherly (at least that's what she will tell people) When Hange introduced you two to a young child (maybe 5 or 6) from the underground Mikasa's heart melted. She saw herself in this child so much that her protective instincts kicked in. She was so protective of this child, no one, and i mean no one besides you could be left alone with them. Even if it was armin or Eren, Mikasa was always in the room, one second away from glaring the other person into the next century. Mikasa really warmed up to the idea of being a parent and fit into the role well.

Jean

Jean was the one of the only in the group who wanted to still have kids. He knew what he wanted from life and was damned if some suicidal maniac was going to stop him. So when you were giving birth, Jean made sure he was right next to you, holding your hand and encouraging you the entire time. Even though you did scream at him "this is your fault! If i live through this i am going to KILL you Kirstein!" (the nurses thought that it was funny) But once your child was here, nothing else mattered. Once you were able to leave the hospital and go home, all Jean did was take your kid around and show off. Constantly saying "look at what i did" or "aren't they just gorgeous like their mom?" He always had something to brag about (even if the thing wasn't brag worthy), to Jean, anything your child did was amazing. Jean is very much the parent to scream at the back of the room while their kid is performing and embarrass the shit out of them.

Connie

Connie hadn't given having kids much thought. Afterall, he didn't even know if he'd be surviving long enough to be given that option. But once you told him you were pregnant, he was over the moon! Connie didn't let you move a muscle, ever. You need something from the top shelf? He's getting the stepstool. You want some food? He's already getting the ingredients out. And when you went into labor, he was right by your side. He let you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed to, and he made sure you were given everything possible to make birth as comfortable as it could be. Connie was so overwhelmed with love once he laid eyes on your child, the only time he let you hold them was when they needed to be fed. Connie got up to soothe them during the night, claiming it was the least he could do since you went though the pain of giving birth. Connie was there at every single milestone for their life, and he was never, ever going to stop being there for them; or for you.

Sasha

Oh boy, Sasha is the cool mom. When you two first adopted your child, she was admittedly a little awkward around them. But, after many late night snacks and a few bad cooking experiences, Sasha blossomed into a wonderful mom. She made sure they were eating properly and always had snacks on her. Your kids friends know that they will eat good when Sasha is around, and you two have become THE family. Sasha does tend to spoil them and say "yes" practically every time they ask for something, but they never try to manipulate that. You and Sasha both make sure your kid is kind and humble and thoughtful. With Sasha at your side, nothing is impossible and raising a child together was the best decision you two ever made.

Levi

Levi initially turned down the idea of having kids. Claiming that he was not fit to be a father, but fate wasn't having it. When you found out you were pregnant, you were worried to tell Levi. You knew he didn't want kids and you had grown to be content with that. What would he say when he found out? Would he leave you? Those thoughts sent you spiraling when Hange eventually let the cat out of the bag. Levi was silent but you could see in his eyes that was he happy. Even though he didn't want kids, he knew he wanted you. If that meant having to raise another brat then so be it. At first, he did the basics, changed their diapers, fed them, etc. But he never truly bonded with them until they were older and confided to Levi that they felt like an outsider looking in. He listened and did his best to offer advice and words of wisdom that might help. From then on, Levi was so much more involved and made sure that they were getting the life they deserved.

Erwin

Erwin was possibly the most excited to be a father. After everything, when things began settling down he approached you with the idea of trying for kids. At first you were the hesitating one, but Erwin was able to convince you to at least think about it. After a while, you were on board and baby, he got to work. It was along road, you had a miscarriage and that was demoralizing. Erwin made sure to support you the entire time. He understood that you may not want to try again and he was okay with that. It took you a year or so after for you to want to try again. But eventually, with enough effort and support, you gave birth to a beautiful baby. Erwin was in love with your child the moment he laid eyes on them. He spoiled them as much as he could, whenever he could. He was a dotting husband, and even more dotting father.

Hange

Oh boy, Hange is.. enthusiastic to say the least. They see it as a new experiment, at first. Hange takes your pulse every day, they measure how much you eat as well as your weight. When you gave birth, they were overwhelmed. There was a beautiful little bundle wrapped up in your arms and all Hange wanted was to hold them. Hange was so careful that you almost had to do a double-take. They held your child so gently, like glass. From then on, it was like the whole world vanished for them. They prioritized being there and being a parent over anything. Hange recorded all the milestones (first steps, first word, first tooth, etc) but they also recorded every other moment (like when they babbled for the first time, or when they first rolled over). But to Hange, they were all important moments.

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prettyinpurplelights · 1 year

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hii ur writing is SOO SOO good im practically going insane over ur mbappe writings. could u pls write smth about mbappe being sick and reader having to take care of him but he's just enjoying being a brat and clinging to reader ? like imagine taking care of this manchild. imagine the HAVOC he would wreck if he didn't get a kiss from his gf

HOUR OF NEED

Heyy, thank you for your lovely words, means so much 🫶🏿 hope this is okay!

“You’re leaving me here all by myself? This is your fault.” Your boyfriend sniffles, pouting as you put on your jacket, ready to leave the house.

“I warned you about kissing me last week when I was sick.”

“But your mouth was so nice and warm.”

“And now here we are.”

“So you’re going to abandon me in my hour of need?”

“Kylian, it’s just a cold. You’ll survive.” You roll your eyes.

“I hope you know those may be your last words to me. Ever! Who knows if I’ll still be alive and breathing when you get back.” He shivers dramatically and you grab your bag, placing your phone in your coat pocket.

“I spent all day yesterday playing nurse Ky, I have to go to the office.”

“And you think if nurses just left their patients before they got better, anyone would recover?”

“You are a ridiculous man Kylian Mbappe. You have a runny nose and a high temperature, just keep hydrated and take your pills. I’ll see you at 6.” You reach over to kiss his forehead and he rolls over and pulls the covers high over his head.

“You don’t deserve to kiss me.” His voice his muffled under the blankets and you laugh.

“Whatever you big baby.” You call as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

————

“So if we push the campaign from this angle, I think the overall engagement would-“

PING!

Your phone buzzes for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes since you started giving your pitch to the newest clients at your firm. You reach for your phone to turn it off, apologising profusely, when it starts ringing and you see your boyfriend’s face lighting up the screen.

“I’m so sorry, I just have to take this very quickly, I really apologise.” You hold your hands in a prayer sign before scrambling out of the office with the phone to your ear.

“Kylian, what the hell do you want.”

“Y/N…” his voices sounds strained and breathless, and you immediately begin to worry.

“Kyky? Baby what’s wrong?”

“I just…can you…” He coughs violently and you wince. He really doesn’t sound good, and you feel start to feel a little guilty for leaving him alone. “Can you…come home please? E…Emergency.” He croaks out that last part, as though he doesn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“Oh baby. I’ll be there as soon as I can okay? I’m sorry for not taking you seriously. I’m leaving the office as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” he breathes before hanging up abruptly and you think the absolute worst. Maybe it wasn’t just a cold, maybe it was something worse, and now he’s alone and confused and deteriorating. You head back into the conference room, chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Everything okay Y/N?” Your boss asks.

“Yes, ummm, it’s just my boyfriend is really ill right now, and he’s just called me and he doesn’t sound too good so I’m a bit worried that’s all. But we can get this pitch finished up and I’ll go and quickly see him on my lunch break-“

“Kylian is ill?” He says, shocked as if you’d just told him his own mother on was on her death bed. “Oh no, you must go to him right away. We have the PowerPoint and your notes, Lisa can finish your pitch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes of course, I hope he makes a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you so much, and I really am sorry.” You disconnect your laptop from the hdmi cable connected to the project and slide it into your handbag.

“Don’t worry about it Y/N, please let us know how he’s doing tomorrow, you don’t have to come in if he’s still not feeling well.” He smiles. You thank him one last time before rushing out of the office and down to the elevator to the underground car park. You barely lock your seatbelt in place before hightailing it out of the building.

“Kylian!” You yell as soon as you make it back into the apartment. You drop your bag at the door and hurry up the steps, taking them two at time. It’s not long before you’re bursting into the bedroom. “Ky, baby what’s wrong? Have your symptoms gotten worse?” You sit on the bed, taking his sweaty face into your hands. “I’m sorry for leaving you baby.”

“You’re back.” He croaks.

“Of course,” you sigh leaning in to kiss him and he lets you this time. “What was so urgent?”

“I…the bistro is out of chicken soup and I really want some chicken soup, I was wondering if you could make some for me please?” You drop his head, and he falls back onto the pillow violently.

“Ouch!” He moans, rubbing his head.

“Kylian…” you close your eyes, your right hand pressing on the bridge of your nose. “Kylian, do not tell me you pulled me out of work because you want FUCKING SOUP!”

“I missed you too?” He pouts.

“Kylian! I was in an important meeting with my boss!”

“The one that’s the PSG fan? I’ll have someone send him some tickets to our next game, he’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes.

“Of course that’s why he let me leave the office without hesistation….but that’s not the point Ky!”

“Look babe, I’m sorry for making you leave work.” He doesn’t look sorry in the slightest and it pisses you off even more. “But I mean…you’re here now? So…”

“So???”

He opens his arms, his eyes wide as he smiles. “Come spend the day in bed with me.” You throw a pillow at him, landing in the space his open arms created, before storming out of the room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out.

“To make YOUR FUCKING SOUP!“ you shout back. “Tu es un putain d’idiot!”

———

You feel someone’s arms wrap around you as you’re stirring the soup and you shrug your shoulders.

“Get off me Kylian.” You mumble.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, holding you tighter as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“Kylian Mbappe Lottin, I’m within an arms reach of very sharp objects. Get the fuck off me.”

“No.�� He insists, burying his head further into your neck. “I want to hug you. I read somewhere hugs and kisses when you’re sick are very healing.” He moves from behind you to stand by your side, his arms around your shoulders instead, leaning forward with his eyes closed and lips pursed. You shove the teaspoon you were using to taste the soup into his mouth instead and push him off you as you untie your apron and place it on the work surface.

“You can keep your kisses. I’m not trying to get sick again.”

“You kissed me earlier when you came back?”

“Yeah when I thought you were on your death bed you manipulative man child.”

“Oh Y/N, come on!” He whines, stomping his feet. “I’m not a baby.” You look at his stomping foot and raise an eyebrow. He stops and his lips turn up in a little smile. “Okay fine, maybe I am a baby. But I’m your baby. And your baby is sick and needs you. He needs your kisses. Desperately or he might drop to the floor right now.”

“Drop. I don’t care, I’m not kissing you.”

“But I said I’m sorry!” He groans.

“And you’re forgiven. But I’m not kissing you. I don’t want to get sick again.”

“Actually,” he says, coming up to you as you reach into a cabinet above the sink to grab two bowls. “Since I caught this cold from you, it’s the same strain, and you can’t catch a cold twice with the same strain of virus. So you can kiss me as much as you want.”

“And since when did you become Dr. Mbappe.”

“I did some reading in the 3 hours you abandoned me.” You slide past him and start serving up the soup in the bowls.

“Good for you.”

He takes the bowls from you and sets them on the island before backing you up against the counter. The blanket around his shoulders falls to the floor as he rests his arms either side of you on the granite worktop, trapping your body between his.

“Just one kiss.” He whispers against your lips, his face barely an inch from yours. “Please. Just one.”

“Fine.” You press your lips against his lightly, ready to pull away but his hands cage your face, and he presses his lips harder against yours, deepening the kiss. You both pull away eventually breathless, your hand around his neck.

“Better?” You ask in a low voice.

“I’m cured.” He murmurs, before he suddenly recoils and sneezes all over your face.

“DUDE!” You shout, pushing him away as you reach for a tissue.

“Well, almost cured.” He laughs, stopping when he sees your stone cold expression, your eyes shooting daggers at him. You shove his bowl of soup into his chest and go to sit on the sofa with yours. You soon feel Kylian snuggle up next to you, lying down dramatically with his hand over his forehead.

“I suddenly feel weak and dizzy, I don’t think I can hold myself up Y/N.”

“What? You want me to feed you the soup now?”

“If you insist.” He smirks.

“You are unbelievable,” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too as you pick up the bowl and hold a spoonful to his lips.

“I also think a kiss in between each spoonful will really help speed up my recovery process.” He nods as he slurps the soup from the spoon.

“You know what, you should legally change your name to Mbaby.”

“Haha funny.” He retorts. He points to the soup, then his lips before opening his mouth wide. You intentionally put the bowl down and pull out your phone, flipping the camera to selfie mode and holding it up so both you and Kylian are in the frame simultaneously.

“Look at this big baby here,” You start, as you press the live option on your instagram. “Big boy Kylian Mbappe lying here while I feed him soup because he’s got a little cold he can’t handle.” Kylian reaches up to grab your phone but you leap from the sofa to the other side of the coffee table.

“Y/N, turn it off.”

“Oh look,” you say into the camera. “Suddenly he has the energy to get up. You should’ve seen him merely a few seconds ago guys, acting as though he had the plague.”

“Y/N, I’m warning you.”

You laugh as you read some of the comments from the fans on your live, getting louder as you see one from his teammate.

“Ky, Achraf said stop being such a pussy!”

“That’s it!” Kylian says before leaping over the table, but you’re a tad quicker than he is, dodging his lunge and making a break for it into the kitchen. “Cut the live Y/N, or I swear-“

“Or what?” You taunt, flipping the camera so it’s facing him as he stares you down from the other end of the island in the middle of the kitchen. You quickly slip through the door and up the steps before he can reach you, but Kylian proves himself to be one of the fastest men in the world once again because he’s grabbing onto your shirt just as you reach the top of the steps pulling you to the floor, his full weight on top of you as you raise your arm as high as you can out of his reach.

“Okay guys, I have to go, it’s time to feed baby Kyky his cough syrup.” You say just as Kylian grabs the phone out of your hand and turns it off.

“Looks like you’re suddenly feeling better hmm?” You tease, laughing.

“You…” He starts but his sentence trails and he pulls the blanket over his mouth before sneezing into it loudly. He sniffs, rolling over so he’s lying next to you, wheezing and breathless. “You’re so lucky I’m ill. Once this cold is gone, you’re dead.”

———

Tried to make it a bit fluffy, I feel like it probably wasn’t that fluffy aksjsksk enjoy ! <3

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

at the other end of the leash

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

@vannyangelxoxo asked: can you write Felix beating someone’s ass for reader? Summary: You convince Felix to go with you to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in one of the last weeks of Summer before you begin your first year at Oxford University. While out on the town during the Festival, Felix finds himself enchanted with one of the performers, an avant-guarde acrobat named Magnus. The perfect night quickly goes south, however, as Felix discovers someone trying to take advantage of you, and he immediately steps in. Of course.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Set at the end of Summer before Felix and Reader start their first year of university at Oxford. Established Bi Felix.

Warnings: heavy themes; reader is slipped a roofie at a club and a stranger attempts to take them home, and it's heavily implied that he plans to assault them. felix gets there in time, which leads to the second warning of VIOLENCE. felix beats that motherfucker to a bloody mess. it doesn't get super gorey/explicit but there is a lot of blood. also there is discussions of nudity, non explicit sex, and recreational drug use in the club.

A/N: 6053 words. well, would you look at that. another request that got outrageously out of hand. this is also a personal homage to Edinbugh Fringe Festival, my beloved, my home for 6 weeks of the year. id also like to state that it's a wonderful place to be; the roofie plot is 100% fictionalised. the rest of it is a pastiche of real things that i have actually experienced. i cannot stress enough the raw animal attraction of a man named magnus who can and will flirt with anyone and everyone while getting drinks after his shows, who performs several times a week with his dick out, wearing eyeliner, heavily tattooed, who smokes and has pretty eyes. that's all i have to say about that.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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"Come on Fi, it's the last weeks of Summer before we start uni," you'd been rather desperately imploring, as if Felix had ever known how to refuse you when you actually wanted something, "you know Monty Python started there before they were even Monty Python," you told him knowingly, which was certainly interesting, though not particularly relevant. Finally you sighed, splaying yourself out over the sofa you'd been sitting, looking up at him from as he entered the room. Now you were spread out foolishly, childishly, looking up at him with imploring eyes, "Fi we've spent a month lazing around the house and I know your parents have no other events planned before we go back, except for the party on the second last night; we'll be back before then, I promise! I want to spend time watching strange show, meeting people I'd never imagine, and drinking cocktails named after famous poets from rustic bars!"

It had been your suggestion to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a few days, and despite the exhaustingly long train ride and the hotel prices that would probably cripple anyone less well off than you - Felix had agreed. Of course he'd agreed; you sounded so hopeful.

Which is how you'd found yourself in an underground club on a Friday night, dancefloor packed with more bodies than sense, and a twenty minute line for drinks. Tonight he'd been feeling especially bold, forgoing a jacket altogether, spending time in the mirror with you before heading out to see the show you'd chosen for the evening - a compelling one-man show about being gay in Australia, in a less compelling, cramped venue. So now here he was, in one of his more fetching dark, silk, button-down t-shirts, eyeliner on his waterline, mascara even though he claimed to not need it, a touch of glitter by his temples, and his favourite brown lipstick that he'd agonised over.

Not long after you'd come out, you'd tried wearing eyeliner with the male, private school uniform - I can- I should be allowed to do whatever I want, right? - and the minute after Felix had gotten out of suspension for smacking a kid who called you a slur, he went out and bought his own eyeliner. His collection had only grown from there. It really was a shame that people seemed to think it was reserved for femininity. Well, as it turned out, people who weren't part of things like Fringe Festivals.

Felix fit right in tonight.

It's a little thrilling; these people, in neon underwear and wigs and makeup that would forever outshine his own efforts, they look at him differently. Drugs passed around him - oh darling, would you like some? But once he'd ask what they were and the kind soul goes to check, they're pulled away by some other shiny thing to focus on. Always too close, tits out with nipple pasties being sweated off, he's sure he saw someone's dick out on the dance floor, the most beautiful, feminine, sculpted faces on the hairiest male bodies sporting only a gold speedo. Confusing and foreign and everyone smiling at him.

Felix wasn't quite sure where you'd gotten too, especially not since he'd found himself caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a stocky punk with a face tattoo and carefully loose hair pulled back into a low bun. Nose piercings and ears with stretched holes that Felix could see all the way through, black silicone bordering the void almost like it was intended to match the black makeup around his eyes, though it looks worn, half sweated through. Still, Felix can't help but be enchanted by the way it made his blue eyes peak so brightly through. Felix didn't think he had much of a type when it came to guys, but he'd always found something very charming about dark hair and blue, mischievous eyes.

"Magnus," he'd introduced himself as with much confidence and yelling over the music, and when Felix introduced himself, asked if he was here for the festival, Magnus smiles wider. Felix thinks very distinctly of biting. "Actually here blowing off steam after a show," a performer then, "part of an avant guarde acrobatics troupe," a very flexible performer.

"How... long have you been doing that?"

"About three years now," Magnus squints into the distance as he tried to recall, "since I was nineteen."

"Oh," Felix brightens up, adding without thinking, "I'm nineteen." And immediately hangs his head with embarrassment. Thankfully, instead of calling him a kid - despite only being twenty-two; everyone in their twenties seemed to like calling him a baby, even if they'd turned twenty yesterday - and laughs.

"Oh thank god," he claps Felix on the shoulder, "because I was definitely going to ask."

"It's a pub," Felix points out, as if no-one underage has ever snuck into a pub ever. Magnus gives him a sidelong smile.

"With no security in sight, mate," he snorted. Felix had noticed that drugs were being passed around like candy, but he hadn't really considered it beyond that. Magnus, however, points to a couple that have been grinding on each other on a bar stool several feet away, "he's been fucking her like that for the past fifteen minutes." Felix's brows shot up.

"Really?!" He gasped; Magnus grinned like the Cheshire cat, mentioning in a far too offhand way that they were also friends of his, "should we move?"

"It's the furthest you're going to be from some kind of sex act unless you want to go outside," he gave a loud, pleased sigh at the environment, seeming entirely at home. Felix is struck with the immediate and vivid image of Magnus in his beautiful leather jacket pressing him up against this very wall, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Felix's pants; the freedom of everyone seeing and nobody caring and -

"What's avant guarde about it-" Felix clears his throat awkwardly, "the acrobatics, I mean, if I may ask?" Felix tries to remain polite while he knows he's blushing all over. All he hopes is that this man beside him that he's just met can't tell how loudly he's thinking holy shit have I met someone who could throw me around the room with ease? Is that something I want? He's never really thought about it before -

"You ever seen three people stand on each other's shoulders all at once in the full monty?" As if that's a real question Felix is supposed to have a real answer to, but Magnus stood just a little taller, just a little prouder, "I'm the lad at the bottom, holding us all secure, cock out for the world to see." What a fucking mental image.

Magnus also informs Felix that the tattoo on his face, the delicate dagger, has its match somewhere else on his body. It's with a staggering amount of confidence that immediately flusters Felix that Magnus tells him he can either buy a ticket to the show, or buy him a drink if he'd like to see it. He's pretty sure he's never been so directly and effectively hit on before in his entire life. Yes, counting the trips you, he, Farleigh, and Venetia took to France that Summer in high school.

Standing in line, thinking about beautiful, punk, acrobat Magnus and what Felix can only assume is his tattooed cock, it takes him a long while to realise that he's nearing the bar and has been staring at some guy's drinks for a full minute. Something colourful and fizzing, something with vodka he's pretty sure. It takes another moment to register something falling into one of the drinks from between the man's fingers as he goes to take them away -

"Hey!" It could have been an accident, it could have been nothing, but Felix wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it wasn't, "dude, hey!" He tries to snatch at the guy's denim jacket, but he slips into the crowd. Trying to jam himself up to the bar, despite everyone else's annoyance, he tries to tell the bartender, but the man's already disappeared too far.

Vaguely distressed, but mostly dejected, he steps back to his place, and waiting another few long moments for his turn at the bar. Even as his gaze roams the crowd for the potential bastard, he can't seem to see him. But he looses track of his thoughts on the matter when he gets back to Magnus, leaning against the wall with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and those gorgeous blue eyes drinking in Felix as he approaches.

"Was almost worried I'd lost you there," he slings an arm around Felix's waist, drawing him in close, accepting the drink with a grin, and all Felix can think about is how warm he is, how he smells sweet and like rich herbs and smoke. He asks what Felix does, and Felix tries his very best not to sound as young as he suddenly feels -

"Remains to be seen," he leans into speak into Magnus's ear, musting the confidence he knows he usually has in spades, wrapping his own arm around Magnus's shoulders, "about to start at Oxford in a few days -"

"Oxford!" Felix isn't sure if Magnus is teasing him or not. He's also not sure that he minds, he kind of wants the man to keep looking at him- keep smiling at him like that.

He's so enraptured by the company he's found for himself that it almost startles him when you come stumbling out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, beaming and sweating, holding a half-finished drink.

"Fi, there you are- oh my, hi, hello!" You're already giving Magnus a million watt smile, clearly quite drunk. Felix catches you with his free hand, having finished his own drink not too long ago.

"Hello, sweetheart," Magnus greets you warmly, but with an unmistakable hint of reservation, gaze momentarily flicking between yourself and Felix, trying to reassess the situation in the blink of an eye. You don't seem to notice that, however, simply standing a little taller, subtly preening at the pet name.

"Y/N is my best mate," Felix leans in close to Magnus to explain, voice fond in his ear, "the reason I'm here at all." And there's that smile again, all warm and amused and Magnus' eyes shining in a way that makes Felix want to let him do terrible, unspeakable things to him.

"Lucky for us both then, that you have such a darling friend."

Performers are a different fucking breed of people, Felix can't help but think to himself, even as Magnus turns - arm never leaving it's place around Felix - to properly introduce himself to you. He thinks it again watching Magnus charm you just as easily, even if he wasn't trying to outright hit on you the way he had been with Felix.

"I was just- I was just-" you stumble over your words, taking another sip of your drink - something colourful and fizzing, vodka something, you'd said with an offhand frown, a lovely guy I've been dancing with bought it for me - while you take Magnus' offered free hand to steady yourself, "I was thinking of heading back to the hotel pretty shortly, I'm a bit -" you make a vague hand gesture. Before you can even finish the sentiment, however, the next song begins and you light up. Finishing your drink, you grab Felix's free hand with your own, tugging them both towards the dance floor, begging them for one dance.

"How could I say no to a face like that?" Magnus teases, letting himself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Felix adding with a fond smile.

"Trust me, I wouldn't know."

Glad for the company, you gleefully let loose amongst the crush of bodies, and there's something both endearing, and endlessly attractive, about how happy Magnus seems to match your energy. The three of you jumping around to The Sex Pistols, Magnus shouting along with all of the lyrics and seemingly impressed that you and Felix at the very least seem to know some of them.

After the song, however, you seem to slip back into the crowd on the dancefloor, as if once more transfixed by the lights and movement and heat of the night. Magnus, however, leans in and asks if Felix smokes.

Outside it's far easier to breathe. It's cooler too. Still, Magnus pulls off his leather jacket, ties it around his hips, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt. Felix has known in a roundabout way that he wasn't straight for quite some time, but damn did reminders like this not feel like being hit by a truck. Covered in tattoos and with the kind of arms and shoulders the Greeks could model statues of gods from, Felix knows he's staring but quite literally does not know how to stop.

Except then Magnus is pulling out an actual, metal cigarette deck, offering it to Felix for him to take one, and Felix is pretty sure this is the coolest person he's ever met in his life.

"I love these," Magnus takes Felix's hand in his free one, clicking the cigarette deck closed and sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, "these are cute," he's looking at the silly, little collection of stars tattooed on his hand. They look like nothing compared to the ink all over Magnus, but he seems genuine in his interest.

"Surprise gift for my sister," Felix hears himself say, cigarette between his lips as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter.

"For your sister?"

"Well it was a surprise to me too," Felix chuckles at the memory, "Y/N and I organised for me and Venetia to get matching tattoos of her choice for her birthday."

"You... didn't know?" Magnus snorts, dropping Felix's hand to take the half-cigarette out from behind his ear, holding it out for Felix to light.

"Well I'm not opposed, I've got a couple of tattoos - nothing like yours," he grins, and Magnus's gaze meets his, flashing with that same amusement and attraction as in the club that had so captivated Felix in the first place, "but I'm kind of surprised that that's what Y/N gifted her?"

"Did your sister not like it?"

"No, that's the thing, I've actually never seen Ven react like that to a gift before," Felix muses; smiling at the memory, "of course she was a menace about it at first; I was worried she'd been given too much power," he snorted, tipping his head to look at Magnus, only to see those blue eyes gazing back, as if hanging on Felix's every word, "do you know how close I came to having a tramp stamp?"

"As if you wouldn't look fantastic with a tramp stamp," Magnus snorted.

However before the story can even be finished, the door to the club opens and both turn at the sound of your voice.

"No, I need some water first -" you sound very wrong. The person beside you, a man who looks vaguely familiar, though Felix is sure it's not his face, is setting almost too brisk of a pace.

"Come on, there's water back at my place, remember?"

"I need to go back to the hotel," you tried to insist, "and water- 'm gonna throw up in the taxi."

"You'll be fine, I promise, I've got you." The man's hailing at taxi, while you're swaying on your feet, looking even more out of it than you had when they'd last seen you.

Felix is moving on instinct, without hesitation, without even thinking.

"The fuck are you doing?" His voice raises, and the man turns right as a taxi is pulling up, looking at Felix with blatant irritation, not appearing to be intimidated in the slightest.

"Back off man, my friend isn't feeling well-" the bastard lies through his teeth, even as you of course recognise Felix, and take his arm, mumbling that you felt sick, "see?" He actually tries to pry you away from Felix, "I'm taking care of them, no need to worry -" but Felix puts his hand on yours, secure. Just as well, since you start to list and lean and lose your balance.

"Fi," you mutter weakly, pitifully, "help."

And that's when Felix realises what he recognises about the man; the jacket that slipped through his fingers at the bar. The man he'd seen dose your drink, as it turned out.

Felix has never seen red in his life the way he has in this moment.

Fury simmers white-hot just beneath his skin, though he keeps himself calm and collected as he gently walks you over to the wall of the club, easing you into a sitting position. All the while the bastard that was with you is berating him, saying you just needed to get somewhere to lie down. Magnus, however, seems to understand what's happening, and sits himself down beside you at the wall, quietly asking one of the many onlooker to go inside and grab some water for you.

"Fine, sit 'em on the filthy fucking pavement in the middle of the city instead of letting them lie down in a bed to sleep it off; you feel good? You feel like a hero for not letting me take my friend home -?"

There is an audible crack when Felix's fist makes impact with the bastard's nose. He knows once his adrenaline wears off it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but it's worth it. More blood splatters across them both than Felix was anticipating from his wonky uppercut, but he doesn't care. The man half recovers, unsteady, but he gets a hit on Felix's cheeks with a fist full of rings, but he seems almost disorientated. Felix goes for the throat this time, satisfaction being the sound of the man choking on his gurgle of pain.

Felix isn't quite sure what it was that sent the bastard crashing to the ground, but he does know that he's tearing through that man's coat pockets like a feral beast before he finds the bottle of pills like the one he saw fall into your drink.

It's like the entire world stops for this one second.

His knuckles ache, covered in blood that isn't his own, clutching the same roofies that were now coursing through your blood, making you weak and vulnerable and prey to bastards like this. His head spins, fury spitting in his veins, blood singing to tear this man apart. There were on lookers, a gasping crowd, but for some reason no bouncer in sight, no-one stopping this.

And you, sitting against the wall of the pub, tucked up against Magnus who had a protective arm around you and was looking at the man beneath you with something cold in his eyes. His other hand was balancing a glass of water on his leg next to you, for you, but you didn't move, just looked at your hands, helpless. Magnus's cold gaze slides to meet Felix's, and there's something approving in his eyes. He gives the faintest nod.

Felix kind of blacks out after that.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into a taxi rather frantically, hearing Magnus shout - well get him on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood before the ambulance arrives. You're already in, leaning against the window seat, gazing vacantly out of it. Felix gently touches your shoulder once the door shuts behind him- fuck that seems like a lot of blood? When did that happen? You make a vague hum of acknowledgement, so Felix shuffles over to the middle seat and coaxes you to rest against him.

"Fi?"

"Of course," he cradles you against him.

"Fi," your voice is weak, he can hear you beginning to sniffle. Your words come out awkwardly, slurred terribly, "feels wrong, c'nt.. m've."

"I know, I'm sorry," Felix feels the tears in his own eyes, "you'll be okay, I'm here, you'll be okay." He can't believe he let this happen. The front door opens, and Magnus's voice greets the driver.

"Sorry about the state of them in the back -"

"'s Friday, laddie," the terribly aged, terribly Scottish taxi driver says blithely, "where shall I be takin' yas?"

Magnus looks over the back to you both, expression concerned, but genuine, and asks for the address of your hotel. Felix takes a moment to compose himself, but finally gives it, and the drive commences in silence.

It seems only natural for Magnus to also get out once you've all arrived, easily sliding into step with Felix as they both wrapped one of your arms around their shoulders and helped get you back through the hotel and up to your room.

"Thank you, Magnus," Felix says softly as he fishes the key from his pocket, "I'm so sorry about how the night turned out." Magnus actually laughed at that, and Felix opened the door.

"Felix, if the context weren't so dramatically, disgustingly awful, this would be the most fun night I've had all Fringe." And you all shuffle inside, Felix guiding you all towards the bedroom to lay you down, "nice room by the way," Magnus looks around as he passes through, "who's cock did you have to suck to afford it in the middle of the Fringe?"

"I..." Felix hesitates, "don't know if that's a first meeting kind of question."

"Well played, Oxford boy," Magnus says, but there's no malice behind the nickname, "I have my theories, though." Part of Felix is glad Magnus is there, to help lighten the load, lighten the mood, even a little.

They lay you gently on the bed, and Felix is just glad that you seemed to finally have fully passed out. He can't begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside your head. Then it's just the two of them. And the built in wardrobe across the room with it's floor to ceiling mirror.

And all that blood on Felix.

"I look the fucking American Psycho," it's fucking horrific! What did he do? Magnus, sitting on the end of the bed with one knee crossed over the other gives an amused smile.

"You actually kind of do."

"It's not good!" Felix approaches the mirror like he's in a damn horror movie, scrubbing at his cheeks with little success, but with a surprising amount of sharp pain, "the fuck did I do? Is this all his?" Magnus, in the mirror, is looking at him curiously, "Magnus, seriously, the fuck did I do?"

"You were fucking beautiful, Felix," Magnus says, sounding almost awed. Felix stopped; there was nothing flirty, nothing about it that wasn't genuine. Wait holy shit, Felix realises, are these fucking butterflies in his chest? Now of all times?

Then, in the next moment, Magnus blinks, clearing his throat loudly, like he hadn't meant to say that. For the first time all night he looks genuinely flustered, dropping his gaze.

"You hospitalised a fucking rapist, is what you did," he said matter-of-factly with a nod - he'd nodded before, it's the last thing Felix really remembers - "proved your point to everyone there finding those fucking pills; that was a good move. I mean, I had to explain what the fuck was happening to our little audience while I was dragging you off him - didn't think you wanted to kill him."

"Thanks," Felix says weakly. Then, softly, looking down at his shaking hands, "should I go to the police?"

"For doing a public service?" Magnus snorts, shaking his head, "no, there's at least a dozen girls who will attest to him acting threatening, and to Y/N's behaviour - who was thankfully taken away by an actual kind friend - and that he admitted in a fit of rage to spiking the drinks. He'll be the one in jail if anything." It's so... easy. So nonchalant.

When Felix asks, confusion, disbelief, innocence in his voice, Magnus just smiles like the easiest thing in the world, and says he's an actor, it's his job.

"You don't have to be doing all of this," Felix covers the room in a few short steps, knowing he'll never have the words to thank this stranger for all he's done tonight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be telling this story for the rest of my life," Magnus grins brightly, and his eyes shine just like that had hours ago, before everything went to hell. He leans in conspiratorially, "you broke his fucking ribs."

"I think I broke more than his ribs," Felix says with a tentatively proud smile. Magnus nodded in absolute agreement. Then, after a moment.

"Have a shower, Felix," he said, "I'm going to go downstairs to the petrol station, see what they have there, and be back in a bit; is it okay with you if I crash on the sofa -?"

"You don't have to do all this, seriously, it's late, please go home," Felix implores, taking Magnus's face in his hands. Magnus, however, looks at him like he's a fool.

"I'm going to make sure you're both okay," he pets Felix's hand on his cheek, smiling so sincerely, "and besides, if I'm down getting stuff, that way you can have a shower and know I'm not using that time to be a creep towards Y/N while you're busy."

After a moment of deliberation, Felix pulls Magnus in to press several kisses to his forehead, calling him an absolute Godsend, while Magnus laughs to hide how flustered it makes him.

The shower is where the adrenaline really starts to wear off and the ache of the fight sets into his muscles and bones. The mirror mists over and the droplets still cling where he wipes his hand over. His knuckles are bruised, as is his face, scratches and split lip and gashes where the rings had punctures his cheek. The makeup and eyeliner that he didn't think to properly remove before his shower probably makes it look a little worse than it is.

There's scratches on his throat, his collar, shallower on his chest where the bastard had tried to get him through his shirt while he was trapped beneath Felix on the ground. Scratches up his arms as the man fought a losing battle.

He takes one of the makeup wipes from the pack and cleans up his face as best he can as the first step. It helps, but not by a lot. Back in the bedroom, once he's dry, he searches his suitcase for pyjamas, getting himself dressed.

In there, there is a long few moments where he watches you sleep, watches the steady rise and fall of your breathing and sees the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Fi, help."

God, he's tearing up at the memory. He should have stopped that cunt at the bar when he'd had the chance, when he first saw it happen. Never in his life has he heard you sound genuinely weak until tonight; his hands shake.

Before he gets you cleaned up, however, he feels like he needs to check... Magnus really didn't have to come back. Yeah, sure, he said he would, but if he got tired, if he needed to call it a night, Felix would not blame him in the slightest. He really was surprisingly lovely, and part of Felix would probably regret not getting his number, but it was understandable -

Magnus is sitting cross-legged in the hall, across from his door, eating a slice of white bread from a grocery bag by his side. In his other hand, he's texting.

"Give us a second, just letting the troupe know I'm fine."

Felix blinks at him. Felix waits. Magnus's thumb works the digits of the Nokia he's focusing on, before he must hit send, satisfied. Then, tucking the phone back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he looks up, eyes still that same, bright blue. He looks genuinely pleased to see Felix. Felix, for his part, is genuinely pleased to see him too. Surprised as well, if he was being honest, but pleased.

"You look much better," Magnus comments, and pushes himself to his feet. Bag looped in his arm, Felix sees it's a few basic supplies, bread, maybe some spread, something he can't identify, and something bright red. He offers to pay; Magnus tries to shrug it off, but Felix finally gives a self deprecating smile, gesturing around to the rather luxury hotel room they were in. Magnus gives himself a moment to take it all in again, and finally sighs, smiles, gives in.

He does, however, insist on making them both food.

Grilled cheese; all he could find on short notice since it was getting to the early hours of the morning. Felix watches for a few long moments, the way Magnus moves around the kitchenette with practiced ease, like a man used to these spaces, to life on the road. Felix finds he enjoys just watching Magnus; perhaps this is how people have often felt about him. Magnus doesn't watch him, he feels rather free.

"Do you want to take off your makeup," Felix pipes up just as Magnus reaches for the stove. Magnus freezes, "if you're staying, and being so kind as to make me food, the least I can offer is for you to make yourself comfortable."

"Should have suspected you'd be a good host," Magnus grins over his shoulder, and gently puts the pan down, leaving the stove off for the time being. So Felix directs him to the bathroom and tells him to take all the time he needs, and himself heads to the bedroom. Fishing his wallet from the jeans he'd discarded for the night, he pulls out two fifty pound notes. It's far more than the contents of the grocery bag, but Felix definitely doesn't care. It's so little for how kind he's been.

Opening the bedroom door, however, and he almost runs into Magnus, startling the both of them. Even with the remnants of his makeup still clinging around his eyes, the faintest traces of stubborn eyeliner and mascara, he looks fresh-faced and beautiful. Startled, both by the abruptness, and the fact that he might be even more taken with this man without his makeup on, all Felix can do is hold out the money. Magnus seems to thaw first, chuckles, shakes his head, and calls Felix incredibly generous. Unsurprisingly, Felix insists that it's not generous, it's simply fair compensation for his kindness.

After a moment, Magnus peers around Felix, asking how you were. Felix finally relaxes, assures him that for now you're fine. Magnus's expression is understanding, but still very knowing, as his gaze flicks between Felix and you.

"You take care of them, I'll take care of food," he insists gently. Before Felix can even ask how Magnus knew what that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Magnus pats his chest fondly, "you beat a man half to death for them, I assume you want them to sleep in comfort."

Yeah. Fair. Good assessment of the night, and of Felix.

So Felix smiles, thanks him, and trusts him in the kitchen.

Felix treats you with such reverence in these moments, wiping off your makeup with such care, changing you into your pyjamas while he made sure there were no bruises, no scratches, no sign of this bastard anywhere on you. But no, thankfully not. He could have killed that bastard. Sounds like he almost did.

You frown in your sleep. Felix's heart hurts. But there's nothing more to be done for now.

Magnus is humming softly in the kitchen, a gentle sound amid the comforting sizzle of butter in a pan. Felix watches from the doorway for a long moment, the gentle, neutral expression, the focus on the food, the way he's retied his hair to catch all the hair that had so casually been hanging around his face back at the bar. There's something else different about him, however, and it's not the lack of leather jacket or makeup, it's something Felix can't put his finger on for a good few moments.

"Did you get shorter?"

Magnus stops humming. His gaze slides to Felix out of the corner of his eyes, expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the ground, and Felix follows; Magnus is wearing Christmas socks on the cold tiles. After a beat, Felix puts two and two together, and Magnus gives a vaguely sheepish laugh the minute he stalks around the kitchen island to the door. There's a pair of gigantic, black boots sitting primly by the door.

The absurdity of this, on top of everything else, finally has Felix laughing, collapsing against the kitchen island, face in his hands, as Magnus cackles quietly by the stove.

"What even is this night?" Felix groans through his fingers.

"One to remember," Magnus responds sagely as he served the first of the grilled cheeses onto a waiting plate, "the good parts, at least, and the good in the bad," immediately he puts another blob of butter in the pan, "and when you look back, you won't see the rage or the fear," he puts the second set of bread and cheese in the pan before picking up the plate with the first, finished dish, "you'll simply recall the love that inspired it all."

"You're so wise," Felix sighs fingers curling down so he could rest his chin on his fists, glad for the man he'd met by chance just a few hours before, "how'd you get so wise doing backflips in your birthday suit, Magnus?" He can feel himself growing tired, finally, as a yawn hits him, "is that something I should try?" Magnus laughs once again, putting the plate of food in front of Felix. He settles across from him, mirroring with his chin on his hand over the kitchen island.

"I take chances on people who intrigue me."

Somehow this terrible night has come full circle; you're comfortable and safe, there's nothing to worry about, and Felix desperately wants to kiss this damn acrobat who's in his hotel room making him grilled cheese at three in the morning.

"Magnus?"

"Yes, Felix," he murmurs back, smiling softly.

"Is that why you're still here, being so... lovely?"

But there's something in Magnus's eyes that dims at the question, just a little. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, his smile turns a touch awkward as he pushes off of the counter to check on the stove. Felix follows him with his eyes, confused, unsure of what he could have said that was wrong.

"I suppose that could be the short answer," Magnus offers, idly. Felix is quiet, crosses his arms on the bench and sinks down to rest his head there, almost childishly, waiting, "don't know if this is a first-meeting discussion either." Magnus finally comes to, though his tone is thankfully lighter.

Silence. Slowly, Felix sits himself back up and starts on the grilled cheese in front of him, quietly thanking Magnus who once again assures him it's no trouble. They sit and eat in silence together; it's not awkward, but Felix is growing more tired with each moment that passes.

"I'm five-seven," Magnus offers without prompting, halfway through the impromptu meal. Felix snorts so hard he starts almost choking on a lump of cheese. Magnus claps him on the back, snickering to himself. Felix, while trying to blink away the way his eyes are watering, peers over to the boots by the door once more, "six inch platforms."

"Fucking hell, how do you walk around in them?" Felix says between thankfully clearing coughs, "you don't perform in them, do you?"

"Fuck no," Magnus grins, "it's not that hard -"

"They'd make me near about seven foot!" Felix crows.

"Maybe next time you can try them on."

Next time.

Even as Magnus spends the next half hour tending to Felix's wounds, advising on how to take care of his muscles, Felix can't stop grinning to himself. Then Magnus says it again, wearing a grin of his own;

"I'm not kidding, I'm going to make sure you're taking care of yourself next time I see you."

"You promise?" Felix wears a wide, goofy grin, clearly giddy at the prospect, enough so that Magnus can't help but finally pull him in for a kiss.

"Promise, Felix."

#felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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hainuwelle · 15 days

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The third man theory

Note: This theory takes as starting point Aurora's Fun theory. It states that the invention in which Gaster fell was a new version of a warp door that would have allowed the monsters of the underground to escape to a timeline in which the war against the humans never happened. If this experiment were to work, it would have allowed for a happier ending than the True Pacifist one, because more accidents and deaths would have been prevented.

Sadly, Gaster's experiments went wrong and he was scattered "across time and space". The only other time in Undertale this expression is used is when we call Papyrus in Sans's room, the one that gets us lost in a seemingly endless darkness when we enter it, with a door that suspiciously looks like Mystery Man's grey door and Deltarune's warp doors. This key expression used by Papyrus tells us Gaster's creation and untimely demise should have something to do with these doors.

If this theory is correct, the invention in which Gaster fell would have been under our nose the whole time.

With the FUN theory video in mind, something about Mr. Elegance's dialogues caught my eye.

Evidence 1 - Mr. Elegance, if we didn't previously talk to Jigsaw Joe:

Evidence 2 - Mr. Elegance if we previously talked to Jigsaw Joe:

For a flaming teleportation door one would assume to be magical, the vocabulary used to talk about it sure sounds mechanical and mundanely machine-like : « Fix up », « working on it », « got this door workin’ », « it might break », « fixed that door », « it should work without any issues ». Intriguingly, it looks old, and yet, it is new to the Darkners, who have never seen it before. Is it really Darkner technology?

Of course, to an experienced Undertale player, it looks familiar, similar to the one to Sans's room.

This brings us to my question: Why did Toby Fox add these two different Mr. Elegance dialogues about this door? What purpose do they serve?

It can't be to alert the player that they could malfunction if we haven’t previously talked to Jigsaw Joe, since they always work properly regardless. It’s not like this triggers a side quest asking you to talk to the puzzle man if you don't want a 1/6 chance of the door teleporting you into the void. And they don't serve a comedic purpose either. There is no joke, no punchline. So why warn us about the breaking hazard, if the warp doors never break in the first place ? Why specify that 3 people are needed to get them to work smoothly?

Because this isn’t really about the Scarlet Forest shortcut. The door might not break in the game, but it might have broken somewhere else. This is really about what went wrong with Gaster's experiments.

Time to bring in evidence 3:

First, let's note that this tweet isn't exactly talking about the same situation as in evidence 1 : Mr. Elegance talks about a door that two people got to work and that might break, while Toby Fox talks about a machine that's already broken and that two people could never repair.

However, evidence 2 tells us that when three of them worked on it, the machine should work without a problem. So if we assume that these dialogues are really about the creation that led to Gaster’s demise, this means that the reason things went wrong is because one person was missing.

Two people worked on the machine instead of three, which led to Gaster's disappearance. Yet, we know that two people were trying to repair the machine once it was broken. This means that after Gaster's disappearance, the missing person came back.

Now let's imagine that Gaster formed a trio with two other colleagues that we'll name X and Y. The Royal Scientist is working on a door-shaped machine that would free the monsters from their imprisonment. As the fate of the Underground lies in his hands, a lot of pressure is resting upon his shoulders. The role that X and Y had in this creation is unknown. Gaster could have even built it on his own. But thanks to Entry n°17, we know that shared his experiments with two other people. And thanks to the Japanese translation, we know he was rather close to them.

After the construction of the machine, Gaster and X try to get it to work, but without Y. Maybe they walked away from the experiment, maybe the other two didn't trust them enough, we don't know.

Despite this, they manage to make it work with just the two of them. However, what Mr. Elegance predicts happens, and something goes wrong. Two people just wasn't enough to assure that the machine would work properly. It's too unstable. It malfunctions. Gaster falls inside, is shattered across time and space, and the machine breaks.

Now let's come back to the end of Toby Fox's tweet. ”Neither of them could fix the machine, no matter how hard they tried. No one can." Notice that "neither of them" means precisely two people.

After the incident, Y comes back, but Gaster disappeared. The trio is now a duo. Y and X do everything they can to repair the machine, but can't. No one can. Because Gaster, the person necessary to its reparation, is no more.

If this theory is right, what are X and Y’s identities? And why was Y absent during the creation of the shortcut door machine? A lot of questions have yet to be answered...

#deltarune theory #warp door lore #deltarune #gaster

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cuntess-carmilla · 1 year

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That person also said that caring whether something is Real Goth or not is silly and ykw, I would agree to that IF actual goth music had a fighting chance against everything else that gets constantly mislabeled as goth, but that's just not how it is. Metal, Industrial, and almost any other form of dark alternative music is much more mainstream than goth and we're constantly fighting against honest to God extinction.

It's not that when you go to a night advertised as a goth night you'll hear an equal amount of goth, EBM, Industrial, Metal and Alternative Rock. It's not even that you'll hear most of those other genres and very little goth. I wish!

You can go to any night advertised as a goth night without hearing A SINGLE goth song, from 10 pm to 6 am. And it's not like, a travesty that happens sometimes, it's the norm. The absolute RARITY is going to a goth night that plays a minimum of 45% unquestionable goth music with the rest being debatable or outright not goth at all. I end up jumping in excitement and glee at even the most BASIC goth song being played in a supposed goth night once.

I've said this before but Sisters of Mercy, which pretty much is to goth what Megadeth or Slayer are to Thrash Metal, is touring in NIGHTCLUBS. Fucking imagine Slayer attempting to fit a singular Thrash Metal scene into a small underground nightclub. I saw Two Witches play at a shitty underground BAR. You can argue that they're not as universally liked among goths as Sisters of Mercy and Bauhaus, but they're still legends in the scene who've been active since 1987 non-stop.

The new artists goths get UNIVERSALLY excited for have 55-75k monthly listeners in Spotify at best. Drab Majesty and She Past Away are an exception at... 113k and 223k respectively. Compare that to even Nu Metal revival bands coming out now. Compare that to the most mid Symphonic Metal or EBM bands.

We simply have NO fighting chance if we don't get more territorial and don't literally campaign to not be pushed out and erased. This isn't me bragging; we're a severely underground scene. I wish we weren't! But we are.

Successful goth nights in terms of attendance are PATHETIC compared to the numbers that emo nights pull, and unlike emos, a huge portion of goths actually remain consistently goth throughout adulthood and our subculture is older and more superficially hypervisible. On average goths tend to remain living an alternative lifestyle consistently while most emo adults are at most emo on weekends bimonthly. We either get territorial and firm, or we're fully pushed out and stomped over, and the music we love dies out.

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jupitercomet · 7 months

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20 Questions: In Three Parts

summary - You should have known to question when Bob suddenly appeared in your bakery and made his place in your life—but, in your defense, his smile was so charming! Five dates in and he’s already swept you off your feet completely with his thoughtful nature and kind heart. But the question still remains: what do you actually know about him? And why does he always come back to you covered in bruises?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, Bob is 6′5″ because I said so, no use of y/n, I added outfit links but you can imagine whatever you would like

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.5k

sweeter than sugar masterlist

“Okay, 20 questions.”

Bob raises his brows slightly. “20 questions?”

“Yeah,” you grin at him from over the counter. “20 questions.”

You didn’t exactly know what your relationship with Bob was. After your impromptu lunch, he started stopping by Sugar Plum more regularly. Then that turned to him staying until closing. Then after closing—Eloise was there too at first, but when you both deemed Bob to be an, at least, normal guy, she started giving you privacy. She certainly doesn’t mind going home an hour early either. Now he chats with you until everything is cleaned and put away—he offered to help, but you have a system—and then walks you to your car.

Bob looks at you before he lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Yeah, alright. Are you starting or am I?”

“I can start.” You tell him over your shoulder. “And that counts as one of your questions, by the way.” You add.

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair,” Bob chuckles.

You ignore him coyly. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Probably New York, just to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Bob says after a moment.

“You like art?” You pause from wiping down the countertop.

Bob’s lip twitches into a small smile. “I do. And that counts as one of your questions. What made you know you wanted to be a baker?”

“I don’t know, it was something I did for fun growing up. I used to sit my family down and force them to eat whatever crime against chemistry I concocted. But when I got good at it, and realized I could make a career out of it, I just kinda did,” you shrug, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

“Would you still like me if I told you I was unemployed?”

You laugh. “I know you’re not unemployed, Bob.”

“How do you know that?” Bob makes a slight face.

“Men who are unemployed don’t usually leave repeated 20% tips.”

The tips of Bob’s ears pinken. “Right well, I don’t know, I don’t really have a job. I… work at a gym, but I pick up odd jobs all over the place too.”

“That’s cool,” and you mean it, but you can also tell Bob is slightly embarrassed and he definitely shouldn’t be. “What do you do at the gym?”

He looks down and you think it’s rather sweet how shy he seems. “I’m a boxing instructor. Give lessons and all that.”

“Do you get a lot of boxers?” Your eyebrows raise. You’d heard rumors from Eloise when you first moved to San Diego. How there’s some elaborate underground boxing ring that connects all throughout the city. You’re not sure you believe it—it seems a little far fetched—but maybe there’s some validity to the fact that, at the very least, the sport is popular.

Bob lets out a hollow sounding chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure I would be. The only thing I punch is, like, stubborn dough,” you wrinkle your nose after a moment, freezing behind the counter. “That was a terrible joke actually, I’m sorry.”

Bob lets out a genuine chuckle this time, his head dropping as he bites back a smile, looking up at you through his lashes. “You ever tried standup, sweet pea?”

“No,” you stick your tongue out at him. “And that’s question number three.”

Bob holds his hands up in mock surrender, and though it hardly graces his lips, there’s a smile in his eyes as he watches you finish up the last of your cleaning. You seem somewhat deep in thought as you reach behind yourself to tug on the ties of your apron. The canvas strings catch and Bob stands as you fiddle with them.

“Want help?”

You nod gratefully, moving out from behind the counter so he can reach you. It’s quiet as he untangles the ties and you keep your gaze trained on your shoes because you really don’t want Bob to see how the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck is affecting you.

“There.” His hands drop and the untied apron now opens around your body. “Think it’s your turn to ask a question, sweet pea.”

You take off your apron with a shaky breath, gathering all your courage before you turn to face Bob again. You like hanging out with him and the way he just goes along with whatever antics you put him through. What other grown man entertains the idea of playing 20 questions? You like hanging out with him and you want to do it more. “Do you think you could, um, teach me… boxing? That’s— That’s my question.”

“I don’t know if—”

“I was planning on starting it anyway!” That’s definitely a lie but there’s no way you’d ever tell Bob that. “It seemed like good exercise and one of my friends has been raving about it. But I’d feel better if I knew the instructor.”

Bob swallows, looking at you with an unreadable expression before he finally nods slowly. “I guess I could— Yeah sure, I’ll, um, I’ll teach you. Does Wednesday afternoon work?”

“Yeah, that works,” you nod excitedly, turning away to turn off the kitchen lights—as well as hide your giddy expression. “That was another question, by the way. Now we’re even.”

“Well, someone’s home late,” Mickey lets out a low whistle as Bob closes the door to his apartment, his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he lounges on the couch.

“You know you don’t live here, right?”

Mickey looks up in mock offense, powdered sugar sticking to the corner of his lips. “Is that anyway to treat your best friend? Since childhood?”

“How is reminding you that you have your own apartment—” Bob stops, looking at the open—and very empty—purple box with white cursive font on it. “Did you eat my donuts?”

Mickey’s eyes flick flatly down to the identical box in Bob’s hands before going back up to his face. Sheepishly, Bob looks away, not wanting his best friend to catch on to the pink blush that is dusting his cheeks.

“Clearly, I did you a favor. Don’t think your trainer’s gonna be too happy that you’re stuffing yourself full of sugar,” Mickey licks some of the powdered sugar off his lips, before making himself comfortable again.

Bob’s blush deepens. “It’s not that much.”

“Sure. Is she cute at least?” Mickey wipes his index finger on the sugar covered parchment paper in the box, popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Who?”

“The girl you’re trying to impress by buying all this shit.” Bob opens his mouth to protest, but Mickey scoffs, “Don’t even try to act like you’re not. You did the same thing in middle school when you had a crush on Mindy Carverse.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bob calls over his shoulder, moving to the kitchen to put down the box of treats from Sugar Plum you insisted he take home with him—and to escape Mickey’s pestering.

“You forced me to join the mathletes with you because she was the captain. We were both in the lowest level math class, Bob!”

“Okay, well that— These are entirely different situations,” Bob argues back, peering through the wall cutout of his kitchen at the back of Mickey’s head. “She just makes really good desserts.”

Mickey jumps up, whirling around and pointing an accusing, powdered sugar covered finger at him. “Aha! So there is a girl, I knew it! Has Bobby boy found himself a girlfriend?”

“Would you stop it? You’re worse than my mom,” Bob groans, tossing an oven mitt at Mickey in retaliation.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with Sarah wanting her baby Bo to find a nice girl and settle down,” Mickey dodges the oven mitt easily and Bob huffs out a low scoff as it flops and then skids off the coffee table. “But you, sir, are avoiding the question. Who is she? When’d ya meet her? Does she like you? Have you kiss—”

This time he doesn’t dodge the second oven mitt that hits him in the face.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just— She’s just nice, alright?” Bob looks down at the swirly font of “Sugar Plum Bakery”, stark white against lilac purple, with a small smile. “She’s sweet.”

Mickey’s smile grows and he hurries around the couch to join Bob in the kitchen. “Oh, so you like like her then? You gonna ask her out?”

“No,” Bob deflates at the reminder, walking out of the kitchen to toss the empty box of treats Mickey finished before it starts attracting ants.

“What?” Mickey follows after him, brows furrowed. “Why?”

Bob sighs.

Guilt had been bubbling in his stomach since he’d agreed to see you again Wednesday, eating away at his stomach lining with every bitter reminder. He lied. He lied. He lied. Good people don’t lie, Bob knows that. He doesn’t need some children's book to tell him that, some rabbits or otters, he knows he shouldn’t lie.

But if Bob doesn’t lie, he admits he’s a bad person. If he doesn’t lie, he has to look you in the eyes—those same eyes that light up when you ramble about something you like, that hide behind your cheeks when you smile, that look at him so softly—and tell you that he beats the ever living shit out of people for a living. And good people don’t do that.

So he didn’t tell you that. He lied. He lied. He lied. And Bob told himself that he should leave you alone, that you don’t deserve to be with someone like him. That you don’t deserve to be with someone who covers his every mistake with reusable shopping bags and recycling bins—like cheap band-aids on a bullet hole.

Bob tells himself to leave you alone. But he can never seem to follow it. Instead he comes back, and keeps coming back, and asks you to share cupcakes with him, and agrees to teach you how to box. Because, even though he tells himself he doesn’t deserve you, it does nothing to outweigh the fact that he wants you anyway.

So Bob can’t ask you out—he can’t ask you to stay. Because, if he does, Bob knows he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you never leave. And you deserve more than reusable shopping bags and recycling bins. You deserve more than a liar.

Mickey’s lips suddenly part in understanding. “She doesn’t know.”

Bob swallows, looking down at the empty purple box with white cursive font in his hands.

“She doesn’t know,” he repeats.

You’re already waiting outside when Bob finally makes it to Maverick’s on Wednesday afternoon. The two of you had been texting back and forth in anticipation—which resulted in you sending him a very cute photo of you pretending to box pastry dough that he has since made your contact picture. But even with all of that, he feels slightly sick seeing you standing in front of white painted bricks of Maverick’s Gym and Boxing.

“Hi!” You wave excitedly as Bob gets closer, waiting until he’s standing in front of you to speak again. “You ready, coach?”

That puts a small smile on his face and he shakes his head as he opens the door for you both. “Coach?” He questions simply.

“Yeah, you’re coaching me, aren’t you? Like Rocky.”

Bob gives the girl at the front desk a small nod of acknowledgement. She knows him—most people at Maverick’s do—and only seems mildly surprised to see you walking in next to him. Bob doesn’t usually bring people here, even Mickey’s only seen the inside of Maverick’s a couple times.

“Is that the only boxing movie you know?” Bob teases lightly, your excitement making it marginally harder for him to feel uneasy about bringing you here.

“For your information, I saw the trailer for the new Creed movie, I just never got around to watching it. But there’s another franchise,” you put your hands on your hips as Bob turns around to grab some clean wraps and gloves for you. “And that definitely counts as another question for you.”

His eyebrows raise slightly and he cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at you. “We’re still playin’?”

“We haven’t gotten to 20 questions yet. We both only got to five— Well, now I’m at five. You’re at six.”

“Alright then, we’ll keep playing. Give me your hands please.” You hold your hands out for Bob to wrap them, watching with bated breath as his calloused fingers brush against your skin. “Gotta keep your hands protected, sweet pea. They got work to do decorating pretty cakes.”

You grin as Bob slides a glove onto one of your hands, before deciding it’s not the right size and taking it off. “They’re also very sick of decorating pretty cakes. I had to make, like, three wedding cakes in the past seven days.”

Bob finally finds a pair of gloves he’s happy with, sliding them on your hands and securing them with the velcro strap carefully.

“Decorating pretty cupcakes, then.” He gives you a small smile.

He pulls away once the gloves are secure, putting a step of space between you as he straightens to his full size. He’s not wearing his ball cap today and he runs a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face, soft looking strands peeking out under his ears. Bob crosses his arms, his biceps bulging enough to test the resilience of his t-shirt sleeves. You swallow thickly. Maybe Eloise had been on to something when she called him God’s gift to women.

“Alright then, let’s see your stance, sweet pea.”

You blink, pulling yourself from the trance of Bob’s biceps and meeting his eye. “My— My what?”

“Your stance,” Bob repeats. “Let’s say you’re trying to punch me, how would you start?”

“Like this?…” You trail off unsurely, attempting to keep your feet in line with your hips because that’s what most workout YouTube videos always said and you were hoping it would also be applicable here.

You feel a little silly, you realize, and not the least bit intimidating. Part of you wishes you’d just asked Bob out like you wanted to, instead of using his job as a pretense to hangout with him. When another tall, large man starts approaching from behind Bob, you drop the stance in mild embarrassment, like you’ve been caught trying something you shouldn’t, and Bob’s brows furrow.

“Hey Reaper, you lookin’ to—” When the man’s focus lands on you, having not been able to see you behind Bob’s towering frame, his eyes widen slightly. “Oh shit, my bad. Didn’t know you had a girl with ya, Reaper.”

Bob freezes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, um, maybe another time, Brigham.”

The man nods in understanding, throwing you a polite wave as he leaves. “For sure, man. Sorry for interrupting.”

You wait for him to walk away, nose scrunched in confusion. Bob seems to be acting like the whole event never happened, moving through his routine like it was never interrupted. It throws you a bit because, to you, that man seemed perfectly normal. But Bob’s almost putting up an act of normalcy. “Why does he call you that?”

“Why does he call me what?” Bob returns the question, not facing you as he grabs two strike pads.

“Reaper.”

He stills, a pad halfway on his hand and he keeps his gaze stubbornly trained on it. You almost feel like you’ve ventured into territory that you shouldn’t until he finally speaks.“I… I love spicy food. It’s Reaper like a Carolina Reaper.”

“Oh,” you nod and Bob finishes putting on the strike pads. “That’s cool! I guess that probably counts as my question too, huh?”

Bob swallows, not quite meeting your eye as he nods. “Yeah, um, you ready to start?” You grin at his question and it seems like Bob can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto his lips. “I’m never gonna learn anything about you if you keep counting these as questions, sweet pea.”

“That’s a shame. You’ll just have to get better at asking questions then,” you shrug and then look down in baffled surprise when the weight of your hands snapped your arms straight back to your sides. Boxing gloves are heavy.

Bob lets out a loud, honest laugh at your expression. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, you realize. Maybe the first time anyone has heard him laugh if the startled reactions of people around you are anything to go by. But you look up and Bob’s eyes are squeezed shut, his face all crows feet and smile lines, and he laughs.

You want to make him laugh all the time.

“Sorry,” he quiets down to soft chuckles, looking at you endearingly as his mouth returns to its usual small smile. “Sorry, that was just— I’ve never seen anyone make that face before.”

“It’s okay. I like when you laugh.”

Like some kind of fucked up Freudian slip, your mouth doesn’t stop when it’s supposed to, instead choosing to spill out the thought that’s been orbiting your mind for the past minute or so. The words hang in the air—your mouth choosing now to finally close, your teeth hitting each other audibly—and you almost wish you could punch them instead of Bob’s strike pads.

Bob’s bright pink from cheeks, to ears, to neck and he looks down. “Thank you… I, um, I also like when you laugh.”

“Oh.” Most of your mortification washes away as Bob smiles at you bashfully and you can’t stop the butterflies that are fluttering in your stomach. “Thanks.”

It’s quiet and you look down at your boxing gloves as you try to beg the butterflies inside you to go back to their caterpillar state so that you can calm down. Bob doesn’t seem to be faring much better, turning his neck to peer out one of the many windows in Maverick’s—a blush still very evident on his face.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” You blurt.

Bob turns back to look at you quickly. “Sorry?”

“For 20 questions.” You elaborate. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Oh, right,” Bob looks up for a moment to think. “Probably cookie dough, I think.” He holds the strike pads up suddenly and you cringe internally at the reminder of what you’ve agreed to do just to spend time with this man. “Sorry, you came here for a lesson. We can—”

Your eyes widen slightly and you try to prolong the inevitable. “It’s your turn to ask a question,” you interrupt hastily.

Bob drops his hands, looking at you thoughtfully and not saying a word. You wonder if he’s finally caught on to how desperate you’re acting. You’d hyped yourself up this morning and everything! And yet you are still acting like an idiot.

Bob swallows, lets out a breath, and then meets your eye. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

What Bob Floyd wants to do and what he knows he should do are two very different things, and it was in meeting you that Bob realized he is far more inclined to do what he wants. Because he told Mickey that he wouldn’t ask you out, that you’re too good for him, that he would leave you alone. And here he is waiting outside a restaurant you suggested, wearing a nice button up and slacks like he’s some sort of Mav clone after having spent a little over half an hour slicking back his hair and gathering his nerves.

Which is entirely the opposite of leaving you alone.

Briefly, he wonders if he should go. Act like a dick in that regard and make it so you don’t want him around you anymore. Leave you waiting for him at a restaurant wondering if Bob Floyd is really the good person you thought he was. But he can’t stomach the thought for more than a second. Because he doesn’t deserve you, he knows that, but you're both well past that now so there’s not much he can do about it. The least he could do is try.

“Oh gosh, sorry! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

Bob turns around at the sound of your voice, mouth opening to assure you that he really hasn’t been waiting that long. But his eyes land on you and suddenly words escape him. You’re so pretty.

“Fuck, I should have brought flowers.” He takes in your dress, and then his words, and then cringes. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t curse on a date.”

You laugh, looking up at him with a smile Bob thinks is far too large for him to be on the receiving end of. “It’s okay. And, um, next time we can both get each other flowers.”

Bob moves to open the door for you, which he knows he should do, so he can distract himself from the sudden urge he has to kiss you, which he really wants to do. You follow after him, sliding off your jacket as you enter the dimly lit restaurant. Bob hasn’t been here before and it seems you haven’t either, as you look a little disoriented searching for the hostess.

“Sorry, I’ve never actually eaten here,” you explain after the hostess makes her way to the both of you and seats you at a table. “I’ve just always wanted to check it out and their reviews say they have really good spicy food, so I thought you might like it.”

Bob has never been more grateful that growing up with Mickey Garcia meant being force fed every pepper in existence under the pretense of double-dog dares and weekly allowances. Because of that, he’s built up a fairly high spice tolerance to match the lie he told you at Maverick’s. Again, Bob’s stomach twists at the reminder.

“But anyway,” you wave off, pulling Bob’s attention away from his inner turmoil and onto you. “I’ve been thinking about what questions to ask you and I think I got the most important ones.”

“Alright, hit me.” Bob nods, rubbing the tips of his fingers together nervously under the table.

You make a sour face suddenly. “Don’t even use that as an expression around me, my arms are still sore from Wednesday.”

Bob chuckles, ducking his head down to hide his smile as you rub out your arms with a slight pout. “I’ll let you borrow a massage gun.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.” You narrow your eyes teasingly. “But you should know that I box now and my trainer is really good, so I know how to kick your ass.”

Bob smiles and he realizes he likes the sound of being your trainer—well, he likes the sound of being your anything. And he knows that isn’t a thought he should be having, not with how much he’s lied to you, but as the waitress takes your order and you tease him for the fact he ordered a soda, Bob doesn’t want to throw that thought away. He wants to keep doing this with you and listen to you laugh, and ask him questions, and tell him how you’ll kick his ass. He knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to.

“Okay,” you look at him seriously. “What’s the movie that means the most to you?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. “Probably The Notebook. It’s my mom’s favorite movie and we’d watch it all the time - movie nights, if I was home sick, it was just kind of our thing. So, yeah, The Notebook.”

When Bob looks up, you’re smiling at him, eyes twinkling under the orangey-yellow bulb that hangs from the long ceiling light above your table. Normally he would have picked a cooler movie, he doesn’t entirely know why he’s being so honest with you. Maybe it’s his brain’s way of combating the guilt that comes from when he’s lied to you. Maybe, if he’s honest enough, it’ll balance out.

“What about you though?” He asks. “Do you have a movie that means the most to you?”

Your mouth falls open. “Hey! You can’t just repeat my question, that’s cheating!”

Bob chuckles at your outcry—and the way you nudge his leg with your own under the table. “I don’t think you can cheat at 20 questions, sweet pea. Besides, maybe I really wanna know what movie means the most to you.”

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But you can cheat at 20 questions and you just did.” You nudge his knee again before thinking. “I’d say Ratatouille as mine.” Smiling softly, you recall a memory. “It’s what inspired me to care so much about food, I think. I’d watch it and dream of working in Paris just like Remy.”

“Do you still want to work in Paris?”

You purse your lips pensively. “No, I don’t think so. I love San Diego, I don’t think I could leave. Even for Paris. What about you? Do you see yourself staying a boxing instructor?”

“Yeah,” Bob swallows down a sip of his Coke, but it does nothing to push down the honesty erupting from his mouth. “It’s just one of those jobs that makes you feel like you couldn’t do anything else, I guess. But there are worse jobs to have.”

The waitress comes back with your food before you can respond—Bob’s somewhat grateful for that as he’s not entirely sure if he wants to hear what you’ll say to his answer. Your game of 20 questions is paused, conversation flowing easily between the two of you, and Bob finds himself smiling, and chuckling—and laughing—between mouthfuls. He likes you, he knew that already. But he wants you too. And he knows he shouldn’t, but right now, under orangey-yellow lights and with the taste of Coca-Cola on his tongue, he can’t bring himself to care.

It isn’t until you’re saying goodbye, as he helps you put your coat on and opens the door for you, that he even remembers you had yet to finish your game.

“Wait!” You stop at the sound of his voice, turning to look at him as you stand on the sidewalk and Bob takes a few strides to meet you. “It’s— It’s your turn. You have the last question.”

You bite back a smile and Bob’s glad it’s somewhat dark out so you can’t catch how pink you’ve made him—again. But you’re looking up at him so intently, he’s sure you’ve noticed anyway.

“I’m gonna save it,” you say.

“Save it?”

“Yeah.” And as you stand there, under the warm light of the restaurant's frosted windows grinning at him, Bob swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “So I guess we’ll just have to go on another date.”

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zanarkandskylines · 11 days

Text

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

( chapter 4 - the grey )

『 ♡ pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo; pro-heroes au | friends to lovers 』

status: on-going rating: mature (16+) #✩.hollowheart

꒰ summary ꒱ A glimpse of hope appears out of nowhere, giving Bakugo and Midoriya the lead they needed to pursue your location. It proves to be much more difficult than they imagine, so they call upon some friends for a search party.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance

"So...let me get this straight," Uraraka ponders, finger on her chin while staring up into her metaphorical thinking space. "She's underground?"

"Yeah, I know, it sounds fuckin' insane." Bakugo shakes his head as he crosses his arms defensively. "But we gotta try. She needs m- our help."

Midoriya nods in agreement and turns to the group. "Sorry to ask on such short notice, but thank you all for -"

"Like you have to ask!" Jiro interrupts, hands on her hips. "She's important to us, too ya know."

Bakugo and Midoriya had called all of their friends the following morning of your text, gathering an emergency rescue group. Uraraka, Kirishima, Jiro, Mina and Todoroki dropped everything they were doing and met up at Bakugo's apartment the following night. They needed a plan, one that the agency won't catch wind of before they can execute it. It wasn't going to be easy, that much the boys knew, but the consequences did not outweigh the reward - getting you home, safe and sound, was their number one priority.

"The agency doesn't give two shits about this, so we're takin' it into our own hands. I'm done sittin' around waitin' for a miracle." Bakugo's words are flat as he motions for the group to follow him over to the kitchen table to analyze the diagram that him and Midoriya drafted. He points to the left side to start explaining their plan.

"Ears, we'll need ya to figure out where the compound is located, see if you can hear vibrations or some shit. It's gotta be somewhere in this field. Pinky'll burn a hole to make an entry point for us. They'll keep guard while the rest of us go inside. I'm guessin' it'll have multiple floors, so we'll split into teams to cover it all. I'll take the first floor, Deku and Icyhot take the second while Cheeks and Red take the third. Get in, search for her and other hostages, get 'em out and fuck up anyone in our way." He stands back, shifting his gaze to everyone's faces. "Got it?"

"You sure you wanna go alone, Kat?" Kirishima asks, quirking his head to the side. "Not sayin' you can't handle it, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Bakugo grunts, casting his eyes to the floor. "It'll be fine. We'll have our comms and stay in contact."

Midoriya knew the reason why he wanted to go alone and didn't dare vocalize it to the group. He trusted Bakugo knew what he was doing, even if it meant going head first into danger by himself. They're top heroes - intuition is one of their strongest feats and he trusts his childhood friend with his life.

"Do we know anything about the drug they're making?" Todoroki asks, directing his question at Midoriya.

He frowns in response. "Not much, unfortunately. I tried to analyze it in the agency lab and couldn't crack anything about it, didn't have enough of a sample to properly break it down. The only thing we know is that one dosage lasts about an hour."

"Deku, come with me for a sec," Bakugo demands, stomping past Midoriya and into his bedroom away from the rest of the group. Midoriya obeys and follows him down the hall, stopping in the doorframe.

"What is it, Kacchan?" he asks, unsure of what he needed him for. Bakugo droops his shoulders in defeat, palming his face in embarrassment.

"Izuku, I need a favor." His voice is hushed.

Midoriya walks up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gather his attention.

"Anything, what is it?"

"Don't make me say it," Bakugo grumbles, shaking his head in disbelief that he was asking him for support a second time.

Midoriya knew exactly what that meant. He silently wraps his arms around Bakugo, enclosing him in a soft hug.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, I promise."

Bakugo loosely returns the embrace with one arm.

"What if I'm not strong enough to save her again?"

Midoriya pulls back to look him in the eyes. "That's not going to happen, we have your back - all of us."

Bakugo knows his friends would support him through thick and thin, but that's not what he's questioning. The possibility of letting you slip away a second time is slowly eating away at him, afraid he'll have to experience you disappearing all over again. A quiet 'yeah' is all he can muster before composing himself.

Bakugo pats Midoriya on the head as he leaves the room.

"Let's get goin'."

~ TIME: 8:39PM

An hour goes by as the group makes their way to Sector 42, enough time for the sunset to fade into a starry sky and help hide their presence in the night. The seven of them re-group in the same area that you'd previously disappeared in - the barren field.

"Where did you say the portal opened?" Jiro questions.

Bakugo walks over to a set of rocks, pointing at the area. "Right there. Deku marked it a few days after it happened."

Jiro nods and kneels to the ground. She plants both her headphone jacks to the dirt and focuses for a few moments, listening for any frequencies below them. She hears it straight away, the sounds of metal clanging faintly in her ears.

"Found it!" she exclaims, unplugging herself from the soil. "About 20 feet deep, and it's a huge facility. I can't quite tell how many floors, but it's big."

"Knew I could count on ya. Pinky, you're up. Make a big enough hole for us to fit through," Bakugo orders, standing back with the others.

"Roger that!" Mina gathers a coating of acid around her hands, forming makeshift armored gloves. She began to dig while oozing acid into the ground, carving out a tunnel for the group. The others stood nearby, keeping lookout for any potential sneak attacks. Bakugo can’t help but repeatedly thump his foot like an angry rabbit, his patience wearing thin as he’s forced to wait, not able to direct his anger at anything in the moment. He wanted nothing more than to blow the whole place to smithereens, scoop you up, and take you home. Uraraka notices his fidgeting and pulls him to the side.

"You wanna talk?"

"About what?" Bakugo grumbles, scrunching his brows at her in annoyance. Obviously, he didn't wanna talk about anything at all, let alone his feelings.

"Fair enough. How about I make you a promise?" she says, extending her pinky to him. "When we find her in there, you'll be the first one we call."

Bakugo stares at her, blinking a few times before sighing contently. He wraps his pinky around hers.

"Thanks, Cheeks. I...really miss her." He lets his hand fall away from hers as she gives his shoulder a light squeeze.

"Me too. You better make a move once she's back!" Uraraka bats at his arm playfully before skipping back to the others. Bakugo's got his arms crossed and nose to the sky, failing awfully at hiding his flustered expression. Meanwhile, Mina crawls out of the hole she's dug, covered head to toe in dirt.

"Hah...okay," she pants, out of breath and wiping the sweat off her brows with the back of her hand. "It's wide enough for two people. It takes you to a hallway...that's all I could see. Bit of a drop, so just be careful."And with that, the plan was in motion. The five infiltrators shimmy down the hole one at a time, dropping into the hallway as quietly as possible. Bakugo and Midoriya exchange quiet glances, noting how off-putting the silence is to their entrance.

"Eyes up, keep a low profile, and call immediately if something happens," Bakugo whispers. "And try not 'ta get hurt."

The four of them nod in agreement at him, partnering up according to plan and going their separate ways.

~ TIME: 9:18PM

Things are quiet in the compound tonight - eerily quiet. It's been days since your distress text was sent to Bakugo, leaving you yearning for escape to the outside world. Did he have a plan? Are him and Midoriya on their way? The lady who helped you steal your phone hasn't returned since that night, not since she took your phone back to the contamination room. Something felt wrong about this setup, that same gut feeling invading your body like the night of your abduction. You can't help but feel guilty about pulling the boys into potential danger, but what choice did you have? There was no possibility of you being able to escape yourself, much to your dismay. It was physically impossible without your quirk. Being helpless has been humbling, but a fucking aggravating experience.

You roll over on the cot, tracing imaginary drawings on the metallic wall as a distraction. The annoying 'beep!' of a keycard sounds from the cell door, but no footsteps follow. You're expecting a barrage of harsh commands, but they never come. Even though that's peculiar, you don't turn over to investigate - you couldn't give two shits about anything in the place any longer.

~ TIME: 9:43PM

Once they've successfully navigated their way through the compound, Uraraka rounds the corner of the steel corridor on the third floor with Kirishima at her side. She stalks slowly down the hall, taking time to examine all their surroundings.

“Hey, up there! Looks like another cell,” Kirishima mutters, pointing over her shoulder. She silently nods in response.

The two of them approach the glass wall of the cell and carefully peer inside. Uraraka audibly gasps and she scrambles to the door, anxiously fidgeting with the electronic lock. She kicks the door as a last resort and is shocked when the cell door pops open, loosely swinging inward on its hinges. She pushes her way inside, a soft smile crosses her lips when she spots your form on the small cot. You don’t move out of habit, assuming it’s a pissed off guard coming to grab you for another round of testing.

“Found ya,” Uraraka sighs, desperately trying to hide the tears pooling in her doe eyes.

Is that…?

You flip over at the sound of her voice, bewildered at her physically standing before you.

She’s not an illusion...right?

“Ochaco?” You compose yourself as you sit upright. “Is that…really you?”

Uraraka doesn’t hesitate any longer as she’s rushing toward you, wrapping herself around your frail form. One of her hands makes its way to hold the back of your head, trembling fingers clutching a handful of your messy locks. Her warmth engulfs you and coaxes the emotions to the surface that you previously submerged, soft hiccups bubbling in your throat. You return the hug, squeezing her tightly and shrinking in her arms.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m really here,” she assures, quietly stroking your hair. Kirishima comes into focus over Uraraka's shoulder.

"Hope we didn't scare ya!" he says while wiping a tear from his cheek. He strolls over to the cot and takes a seat next to you, gently patting your back. "Good to see ya!"

Uraraka pulls back and moves her hands to your shoulders. Her eyes are glassy as her lips curl into another smile, her signature dimples adorning her cheeks. You haven’t seen the sun in a months time, but seeing her euphoric gleam more than made up for it in the moment.

“Before we talk about anything, I promised someone a small favor,” she says, nodding her head. She clicks the earpiece that adorned her helmet with one hand while thumbing away a stray tear off your chin with the other.

Promise?

“Hey, Dynamight,” she says over the intercom. The mere mention of his hero name from Uraraka is enough to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter ferociously. You can barely make out his voice through the device, but hear Bakugo’s signature twang when he replies. It makes your cheeks flush strawberry.

She grins at you as she replies to Bakugo, "I've got a message for ya."

Your heart stops as Uraraka releases her hold on you and reaches for her helmet. Her hair ruffles from underneath when she tugs it away and shifts to place it over your head. She runs her fingers over your hand delicately, urging you to talk to him.

She mouths ‘go ahead’ while holding the intercom button for you. Kirishima pats you twice on the shoulder for encouragement.

How does she know?

You swallow, hard. Every nerve in your body is firing on all cylinders. There’s an endless amount of things you want to say to him, but that moment isn’t here yet. You choose to settle on a greeting, praying you don’t start bawling your eyes out.

“Hey Katsuki,” your voice quivers as his name leaves your lips.

You hear Bakugo suck air through his teeth over the radio communication, knowing he’s probably cycling through a million emotions over the sound of your voice, too.

He clears his throat briefly before responding. “Hey…y’doin’ okay, Lite-Brite?”

You can tell by the way his voice trembles that he’s doing his damndest to keep his shit together. Uraraka continues to hold the button on the helmet, motioning for you to continue talking.

“Never better,” you joke, huffing out a laugh. “Food sucks here, though. I had to trick myself into thinking it was your cooking to even stomach it.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “I’ll make ya whatever you want when we get home. Now get your ass movin’ so we can get the hell outta here.”

The signal turns off with a click. Uraraka takes the helmet from your head carefully and places it back on her own.

“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about you two when we get home!” she exclaims, pinching your pink cheeks lovingly. “I’ve missed you - we all have.”

“It’ll be a relief to have you home,” Kirishima chimes in. “C’mon, lets get a move on.”

He stands from the cot and extends his hand for you to take. Him and Uraraka help you to your feet as you brush yourself off and fluff your hair over your shoulders.

“Are you hurt at all?” Kirishima asks, removing his arm from your back. He takes a look at your arms - they're covered in bruises of varying sizes and colors.

“Not on the surface, no. It’s a long story,” you explain. “The condensed version is they’re formulating a quirk suppressing drug. The experiments they’re running down here are fucking horrific.”

His face morphs into shock and slowly fades into sympathy. Flashbacks of the Overhaul situation from high school come flooding back to him, wincing at the thought of another anti-quirk uprising.

“But you’re okay?” Uraraka asks a second time as she takes your hand in hers, one pinky lifted to prevent her quirk from activating.

You decide to spare her the mental agony you've been through, saving it for later. “...yeah, I think so. Just exhausted. My quirk isn't fully restored, either.”

Kirishima’s earpiece beeps twice when a muffled voice comes through. He turns his head while clicking the button to respond.

“Yeah, we’ve got her. How’s it goin’ up there?” he asks. The voice that responds faintly resembles Midoriya's. He responds once more before clicking off the communicator. "Alright, we'll head up now. Hang tight!"

“There’s one stop I’d like to make before heading upstairs,” you say, knowing you do not want to leave the prison in your current hand-me-down clothes. “It’s around the corner.”

~ TIME: 9:54PM

Once you've successfully retrieved and changed into your hero suit, along with collecting your cellphone, the three of you proceeded to the second floor to meet up with Midoriya and Todoroki. You can't help but notice how the material hangs from your frame and no longer hugs you comfortably. It's to be expected, all things considered. Even though they fed you, the stress was more than enough to cause you to lose weight and muscle strength over the course of the month. If anything, it pissed you off to know you'd have to work hard to build back your prior stamina.

They didn't bother to wash the damn suit, either. It thankfully didn't smell, per se, but was covered in aged splatters of dirt and grime. Your phone screen was also cracked, hinting that the lady who helped you dropped it "for effect," or some other stupid excuse to inconvenience you.

Your ears perk up at the sound of voices around the corner as Uraraka, Kirishima and yourself are approaching the second floor corridor.

"There's only 10 hostages here, that's strange," Midoriya explains aloud, presumably to Todoroki. "I thought the reports noted more than 10. Maybe I'm misremembering..." his voice tapers off as he begins mumbling to himself. Oh how you've missed the sound of his rambling, something so minuscule but endearing about him.

The three of you come into view, catching both of the boys' attention. Midoriya's eyes whip up toward you, emeralds glistening when they widen under the pale hallway lights. He’s charges down the hall to you, tripping over his own steps from the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"Izuku!" you cry out when his body engulfs yours, gripping onto the back of his costume and squeezing the material as you buried your face into his shoulder. You can't help the tears reforming in your eyes as he spins you around, overwhelmed with joy to see you safe and sound. Before you can stop the tears, you're sobbing into the crook of his neck - a combination of relief and dread.

"Hey...it's alright, Y/N. You're safe," he soothes. "It's okay."

Midoriya places your feet back on the floor, pulling back and cradling your face tenderly. Not surprising, he's got tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, too. He wipes some of the tears from your eyes with his gloved hand.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" he asks, dropping your face from his hands while assessing your body for any visible harm.

"N-no. Couple bruises, but that's about it," you stutter, a sudden tremble taking over your body. "Quirk's not..." you trail off while your vision dilates out of focus for a second. Midoriya doesn't skip a beat and catches you by the shoulders.

"Save your energy, Y/N. I'll carry you upstairs, okay?" his smile is genuine, but you can tell it's laced with anxiety. "We'll get you back to the entrance with Ashido and Jiro, they're keeping watch outside. We'll get the hostages out of here, too."

You nod, the vitality within you draining at a brutal pace. Could it be withdraw symptoms of the quirk suppressant? Is it possible to get addicted to such a drug? You're not sure what in the hell they mixed with the drug itself, it seemed to be different concoctions with each test. You're praying to any deity that would listen to be free of this hell.

Midoriya gives you a quick peck to your forehead before turning around, arms out and ready to lift you onto his back. Uraraka places a hand on your back to help you into his hold, securing your arms around his neck and legs tucked at his sides.

"Uraraka, Kirishima, come help me gather the hostages," Todoroki notions, waving a hand to the cells at the end of the corridor.

"Go ahead, I'll regroup with Kacchan upstairs and get her to safety," Midoriya vows with determination. The others hum in acknowledgement as the party separates.

~ TIME: 10:02PM Bakugo's stalking the area of the first floor, seeing a bunch of empty laboratories and rooms with no one in them. No one has reported any sightings of scientists, workers, or anything since they broke into the compound.

What the hell? Ears said this place was rattling with vibrations. Somethin's not right.

He's habitually calm during patrol missions, but now? His nerves are on fire, shoulders tensed from the stress in his heart. Bakugo couldn't shake his intuition, guts churning with unease at the silence of the facility. A faint scraping sound catches his attention, spinning on his heel with an arm raised. Taking careful steps, he makes his way back toward the entrance and into, what he presumed, the large concourse.

"It's about time one of you shows up," a woman's voice calls out, reverberating off the walls. Bakugo jumps back a few feet, gauntlets raised and hands prepared to fire explosions at any second.

"Who the fuck are you?" he seethes, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his anger from overflowing.

He hates that his gut feeling was right. ~ TIME: 10:12PM Midoriya is taking his time with you on his back, vigilantly navigating the two of you to the first floor. He's attempting to keep you as steady as possible, even though you've told him multiple times you're unharmed. Your head is tucked against the back of his shoulder.

"You holding up okay?" he asks, tilting his head back toward you.

"Yeah, thank you. I feel like if I let you go, I'll float away," you mutter, bitting your lip to prevent more tears from spilling out of your eyes. You're so fed up with crying, not wanting to be perceived as weak - a damsel in distress. Midoriya would never think you're anything less than strong, and you knew that in your heart, but still can't help feeling powerless in the moment.

He gives a reassuring squeeze to the back of your thighs. "Don't worry, no one will take you away from us ever again."

BOOM!

Midoriya halts in surprise, looking upward as the floor shook. The sound shakes you out of your self-deprecating chain of thought.

"Kacchan?! What's going on?" he asks frantically into his earpiece. There's static on the other line - no response. A few more explosions ring out above you two, increasing in succession.

"Dammit! Hang on tight," Midoriya warns, rocketing down the hallway while green energy begins crackling around his legs. ~ TIME: 10:14PM "Talk about jumping the gun," the woman taunts Bakugo, sneering in his direction from across the lobby. "Afraid of the presence of a strong woman?"

Bakugo stood his ground, eyes fixated on the woman in the lab coat before him. Was he scared of her? Fuck no, not in the slightest. The thing that frightened him was she was alone - no one else showing their face in the facility thus far. Where was the man that took you away into the portal? Or any of the "henchmen" from that night?

"What an honor to have a top ten hero visit our lovely establishment, especially number four himself."

"Don't flatter yourself, especially 'cause you're alone," Bakugo yells back at her. He's trying to weed out the possibility of a sneak attack and rile up the woman to reveal her hidden defense. He knows she's got backup here, but where the fuck are they be hiding?

"Am I, though? I thought heroes were trained to have keener senses."

Shadows appear on each side of her as her words hang in the room, revealing two more white cloaked men armed with dart guns. They simultaneously aim at Bakugo, the canisters reflecting the dark liquid in the chambers under the dim lighting.

Shit...! ~ TIME: 10:15PM Midoriya is approaching the open lobby with Bakugo in his sights in the main concourse. You can see over his shoulder that he's standing defensively, presuming that the enemy finally played their ace.

"Izuku, I need you to launch me in front of Katsuki," you instruct, pointing a finger to his location.

"What?! No! I need to get you out of here," he retorts, shaking his head.

"Izuku. Please."

Midoriya huffs, knowing you will not take no for an answer. Your heart is in the right place - he's right. You're in a weakened state, you should be rushing to the exit.

But that's not what heroes do. ~ TIME: 10:16PM "It was nice of that naïve little bitch to drag more heroes into our testing ring! Want a sample, darling?" She boasts, one hand on her hip as she points toward Bakugo with the other. "I think he'd benefit from it."

Bakugo hears a dart gun fire, but is distracted by a burst of energy shot out of a nearby corridor, blinding him momentarily with its radiance. He covers his eyes with his gauntlets, bracing himself for a surprise attack from the front as he takes a knee to the ground. He could hear the sounds of feet scuffing in front of him, along with glass hitting the ground, as if someone slid in from the sidelines.

It wasn't an attack - no, it was a defensive shot. He squinted to sharpen the image of the shadow of whoever rushed to his defense, assuming it was Midoriya.

Time ceases its natural flow as Bakugo realizes who’s standing in front of him. He was speechless, mouth agape as he couldn't help the few stray tears fall from his awestricken eyes and roll over the leather of his mask.

A glimmering energy shield danced in front of the two of you as you peer over your shoulder, shooting him wink and a smile.

"It's fine now, Dynamight. Why? Because I am here!"

Bakugo snorts, laughing hysterically at the absurd comment. His laugh is contagious and gets you giggling - your heart soars into the heavens hearing his laughter again, his joy curing the darkness swirling in your head temporarily. You never thought a moment like this would return to you anytime soon, and yet here you are, cackling at a dumb joke with your best friend on the damn battlefield.

"Get up already, idiot," you chuckle, turning toward and extending a hand for him to take. His signature shit-eating grin spreads over his lips as he takes your hand with no hesitation.

"You came," you whisper, his hand lingering in your grasp.

Bakugo smiles, his eyes the gentlest you've ever seen them. "You called."

He tugs you into a hug, careful not to crush you too much with his gauntlets. He wants to melt into a puddle with the way you're clutching onto him like you can't get close enough, burrowing your face into his chest. You breathe him in, the faint scent of burnt sugar filling your senses while clawing at the back of his hero suit, not able to contain the heartache of being apart for so long - how it could have been your final days in this wretched hell.

Finally - you're reunited. You've found him, and he's found you.

Everything's going to be...okay.

"Y/N, Kacchan - watch out!" Midoriya calls from hall, black whip vines reaching for the two of you.

But it's too late.

Again.

The energy barrier crackles behind you as it evaporates into the air. Everything begins to fade into a haze, that all too familiar filtered vision returning to you. Soon enough, you're slumping into Bakugo, your feet failing to keep you upright.

"H-hey! What's wrong?!" he panics, clutching you tighter as your arms go limp, letting go of his back. "Talk to me, Y/N! What's happening?!"

That's when Bakugo peers over your shoulder and sees one of the dart capsules stuck in the back of your thigh, the injection mechanism switched on with an empty vial. There's a set of broken glass nearby, but that was only one of the darts. The second broke through the forcefield, your quirk not strong enough to parry both shots.

You can take it - you've endured it for a month.

What's one more dose?

"Fuck! Lite-brite, hang on, I got ya," he reassures while taking a knee, lying you down as daintily as he can before ripping the dart from your thigh. You don't react - shit, you can't even feel the needle being pulled from your skin. He watches your eyes glaze over, their usual shine lightless under whatever chemicals are working their way through your system.

"K-Ka-Kat-suki...," you whimper through broken syllables, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Bakugo strokes your shoulders. “I’m here, I’m not leavin' ya.”

"Aww, what a lovely reunion!" the woman chimes in mockingly, regaining Bakugo's attention. The guards next to her have sheathed their guns and stand with their arms crossed.

"Color me surprised that she not only has connections to top ranked heroes, but close relationships with them? Talk about luck."

"What did you do to her?!" Bakugo's chest tightens, fury brewing hotter within himself. Midoriya makes his way over and slides to the ground beside Bakugo in a defensive stance.

"Little miss hero has been such an obedient subject, our best results thus far. Her quirk factors are strong - exactly what we were looking for."

"What did you give her?!" Midoriya repeats, eyes narrowing in her direction.

The lady cackles to herself, proud of her accomplishments in breaking you from the inside out for her own benefit.

"She was gullible enough to believe I was an undercover hero! I let her reach out so it would be easier to round up more test subjects - especially heroes. These civilian quirks were getting tiresome and boring to study."

You were so fucking stupid for believing her. How could you be so naïve? The torture of this place was getting to be too much...you needed a miracle, no matter how narrow the possibility of escape looked. The desperation to be free was stronger than the ability to see through her lies.

"She fell into our laps at the perfect time. Her psionic energy quirk has been groundbreaking for our serums, especially the hallucination and forced quirk exertion compounds. Speaking of, that one should be kicking in any minute now."

On queue, your body begins to twitch on its own, a surge of energy zapping you back to life. It's as if you're being puppeteered by an invisible handler, rising from the ground and to your feet.

Both boys rocket to their feet, taking a guarded step back from you. Your head hangs low while your fingers flex, a glow emanating from your palms. Before they can ask any questions, your head snaps up at them, a spellbound look in your now flickering irises.

"-the fuck?" Bakugo mutters, a horrified expression on his face. The pain is excruciating as the pressure of the energy is begging to be released in any way possible. You can't vocalize the pain through your quivering lips, the only hint at the anguish being the lone tear streaming down your face.

"Now, subject 57 - begin sequence 23," the lady dictates, clapping her hands.

The instinct to fight becomes impossible to ignore, drowning out all of your attempts to regain control of your body. Instead, you're on auto-pilot, launching an attack toward Bakugo and Midoriya. They dodge out of your range, but you pivot lightning quick toward Midoriya, gunning to attack him.

"Hey, it's me! Izuku!" he yells as he weaves through your strikes, thinking it could wake you up from the mind control of the drug. "You know me!"

You successfully land an energetically charged punch to the right side of Midoriya's jaw, knocking him backward before kicking him in the chest and sending him skidding across the concrete.

Bakugo approaches you from behind while you're distracted, gripping your shoulders firmly.

"Calm down! We can work-"

You silence him by placing a hand on both his gauntlets, not bothering to turn and face him. Shockwaves of energy come bursting from your hands - his gauntlets shatter into pieces instantly, leaving his arms and face cut open from the shards. Next thing he knows, your fist is connecting to the underside of his jaw.

Bakugo grunts from the impact, gritting his teeth as he's trying to hold onto you a second time.

"Hey! I know you're in there!"

Should we answer the door, or slam it in his face?

…who the fuck is in my head?!

The devilish grin settling on your lips is enough to send shivers down his spine - that's not you. Something’s gotta be fucking with you in your head from the drugs. He swallows nervously, not knowing what to do to help you. You shove him away from you with an energy blast to the chest, sending him careening to the concrete like Midoriya.

Your chest is heaving, huffing and puffing as the drug surges through every avenue of your body. You can barely form a cohesive thought, let alone understand what's happening around you. It's as if you are seeing yourself through a kaleidoscope lens - this unknown version of you in the drivers seat.

“What a marvelous display of success!” The woman cheers, hands clasped in front of her happily. “The ‘Overdrive’ serum is exceptional in true combat.”

Something whips at you from behind and wraps around your arms and torso.

“Stay…still!” Midoriya shouts, pulling the black whip vines taut to keep you in place. You wiggle in its grasp, grunting and thrashing around like a caged animal.

“Ah, fuck that hurt…Deku! Let her go,” Bakugo calls out as he’s picking himself up off the ground, wincing at the pain in his jaw. “I got her. Take care of that bitch in the coat!”

“But Kacchan, the drug-”

“Trust me, dammit! Let her go before I make you!”

Midoriya retracts black whip as it releases its hold on you. He’s about to leap toward the group of scientists when the rest of the rescue team appears with the hostages in tow, scurrying down the far hallway. He motions for them to keep going to their exit as planned. Uraraka shoots him a nod and thumbs up.

“Huh? Who opened the cell locks?!” The lady yells, pointing to the rescue team as they disappear down the corridor to freedom. She’s about to charge after them when Midoriya stomps in her path, fists raised in preparation to fight.

“Your fight’s with me, lady. No matter what, you’re under arrest according to the laws of hero society. You can surrender, or I can make you surrender.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a threat to bring us in, hero. We’re making world changing progress that's far beyond your jurisdiction.”

Midoriya winds back and jumps into action against the scientists. Meanwhile, Bakugo’s got his eyes locked on you on the far side of the room, gesturing for you to come over to him.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, I don’t wanna fight,” he starts, taking cautious steps in your direction to close the gap between you two. “I wanna help, Lite-brite. I know you're in there.”

You can't trust him, he's a monster and you're his prey. He's only here to hurt you, to keep you down. Don't let him near us...don't let him near us!

He stops in his tracks when you visibly recoil, clutching your head in your hands with a blood curdling scream. Midoriya whips his head around to the sound, catching him off guard and causing him to take a hit from one of the men. He shakes it off, trusting Bakugo with your well being instead of rushing to your side.

Bakugo sprints to you, wrapping his blood stained arms around you with no hesitation. You flail, smacking at his arms with open palms, weakened energy pouring out of you with each hit.

Hurt...kill him. Take the monster down.

"Let go of me, Katsuki!" you shriek out of nowhere, hopelessly trying to shove him away from you.

"No! I'm never letting you go again!" he shouts back, squeezing you tighter. The bursts of energy from your palms are kicking up in strength again as you continue to swat at his body, red marks forming on his exposed skin.

"I'm not fuckin' losing you a second goddamn time!"

He can tell that you're spiraling, that this serum is driving you mad inside your head. If only he could go into your mind and pluck out those vicious thoughts, free you of the agony and take some of that weight onto his shoulders.

If you don't take care of him, I'll make you.

"I don't want to hurt you, I can't control this!" You're sobbing, the looming thoughts forcing you to wallow in the pain. "Please...!"

Bakugo grapples the back of your suit, the neoprene material bunched in his shaky hands, locking in his decision to stay put. "I can take it...don't you dare let me go!"

Something in his declaration to stay by your side snaps you back to reality, enough to control the output of your quirk for a split second, stopping the outbursts of energy. The clouds in your eyes start to disperse, clearing the fog from your sight.

You can fight me all you want. I'll always be part of you, waiting in the shadows for you to break again.

No words leave you as tears gush from your swollen eyes, bawling against Bakugo's chest in defeat. He loosens his grip to pull you away from him, forcibly making eye contact with you. His heart sinks at the sight of your bloodshot stare, but he can see that you're eyes are not as nebulous as before, energy no longer dancing around your pupils. Maybe the drug is wearing off? It's hasn't been an hour, but it's possible this version has a shorter fuse than the normal quirk suppressant.

"No need to cry," he comforts, thumbing away the tears dribbling off your chin. "Everythin's fine. See? Just a few scratches." He points to his biceps and cheek, tiny cuts from the shards of his gauntlets explosively bursting apart.

That well-known lightheadedness from past experiments returns tenfold, your body's energy depleted to nothing. Bakugo must see the exhaustion in your body language as he helps you settle onto the ground. He takes the mask off his face, untying the back of it.

"Sit back for a sec."

Bakugo pushes the hair out of your face and runs his hand into your hairline, brushing it back as he stretches the leather of the mask over your forehead. He ties a small knot at the back and tucks it under the remainder of your hair, creating a makeshift headband. Once he's satisfied with it, he taps the earpiece to call into the rescue team.

"Need someone to call the agency, get the cops here an' round up these assholes."

Kirishima responds instantly. "You wanna call the agency? I thought-"

Bakugo cuts him off. "Change'a plans. Get on it, Red! And have Cheeks come back down, need her to lift Lite-brite outta here." He huffs before tapping the earpiece a second time to disconnect the line and casts his eyes toward Midoriya. Two of the scientists are knocked unconscious, the only person left being the witch that started it all.

Bakugo's attention is drawn back to you at the sound of your sniffling. Your tears have dried on your cheeks, faint stains reflecting in the light. He knows you're safe now, no longer lashing out uncontrollably from the fucked up substance in your system. You look like you could collapse and pass out at any moment, but are fighting the urge to let yourself rest.

"Hey," he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. You turn, head tilted to the side like it's too heavy for your neck to hold, blinking lazily at him.

Even in this disheveled state, Bakugo is aching to kiss you. He knows it's not the right time, not even close to the perfect moment, but the desire burning a hole in his chest is difficult to ignore. Fuck - he didn't even know if he was ever going to see you again outside of his dreams, and here you are. ~ TIME: 10:38PM "You think you have me cornered, don't you?" the lady jeers at Midoriya. "A revolution is upon us - my revolution. My masterpiece is ready."

Without warning, she pulls a dart gun out of her lab coat, positioning it against her jugular vein. The sounds of her wicked snickering fill the concourse as the dart gun fires, injecting an unknown toxic into her bloodstream.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya cries out, catching Bakugo's attention. "We've got a problem!"

The dart gun clatters to the ground as the scientist convulses, her limbs spasming unnaturally as she wails in pain. She composes herself after a moment, raising her gaze from the floor to Midoriya, her eyes aflame with energy pulsing out of them.

Holy shit.

She's got your quirk.

"Not so tough now, boys! Now come on, let's dance!"

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — i'm so, sooooo sorry for the delay on this chapter! hopefully it being the longest in the series makes up for it! i honestly just kept writing, deleting, writing, deleting for over a month. but i'm content with this. enjoy the ride! ⇢ tag list! @bakugouswaif @k1tk4tkatsuki @bells2319 @st0nedbitch @deftonianfr @musicbecky @bakubae-by @slayfics @maddietries

#bakugo x reader #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #mha bakugo #my hero academia x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #☆.rei writes #✩.hollowheart

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